FRENCHY

by George Olney

  "We want to get out again," he added dryly.

  "Evan," Grae continued, "you and Maev go up the left tunnel. Father, Mother, you take the right. Frenchy and I will go up to where the tunnel enters the storage area and keep that blocked until you join us. Once our back’s secure, we sweep the remaining space and call in an Enforcer Strike Team. If things get too hot, we call in the Strike Team anyway. One’s on standby waiting. Got it?"

  It went without saying that "sweep" meant they were going to kill every smuggler they could find. Every member of the gang had escetepus and the disease was both incurable and always fatal to the host. Killing them was a mercy. It was also vitally necessary because an escetepus carrier was maniacally hostile to any uninfected intelligent life. A person with escetepus delighted in causing pain and suffering in normal sentient beings. Killing a carrier did nothing more than protect innocent people. That was why every Federation Arm Agent considered neutralizing an outbreak to be an urgent priority. It was also Grae's mission tonight.

  Everyone nodded to show they understood their assignments.

  Frenchy asked a question. "If the smugglers all have escetepus, isn't everything in there contaminated? What will we do about that?"

  Grae nodded. "Good question.

  "Again." He grinned and she blushed at the compliment.

  "Escetepus doesn't survive well outside an intelligent host, Frenchy, but we won't take chances. We never do. The Strike Team will have decontamination capabilities and we will all use them when we finish.

  "We will recover whatever information will lead us to any other possible infections or show we've got this one neutralized," he returned to his briefing again. "The Strike Team will then blow the headquarters once we're all out with whatever we can get. That will destroy all of the Somnolent, but our real mission is to neutralize the infection by destroying the gang. The leader will be here, tonight, and the leader is the one we must kill. She’s the most dangerous. If we get the rest of the gang and miss the leader, the gang can be formed again and the infection will continue. She must be destroyed. That will be my job."

  That was the reason he didn't want the Strike Team there before they'd cleared the underground cache. He had to kill the leader himself. It was his duty.

  "Frenchy, by the way, is immune to escetepus," he announced to the startled glances of his audience. "Locar confirmed that when he gave me the layout." He didn't add that Locar also tried to talk him out of going in alone.

  "I told you many of the inhabitants of Frenchy’s home world were immune to escetepus... Yes, Mother, I know it's yours, too... Frenchy turns out to be one of the lucky ones.

  "You went through a medical screening as well as the other checks when you entered Locar’s office, mistress," Grae said to her. "We used some of the information I got from your world to develop the check for immunity and he just got the results several days ago. The rest of us are not protected, but it won't matter in this case. We are not going to be inside long enough for the disease to fully incubate before decontamination, even if we do get infected."

  Grae looked at each one in turn. "Okay, recap. We'll leave the gorts where we left them this morning and work our way to the ridge where Weykhaz, Evan and I were. The men will go forward to eliminate the sentries, return to pick up the women then we'll all go forward to blow the door and enter the tunnel. Just a simple in and out, hit everything we can, and clear the place so the Team can blow it when they are finished. We'll go in around an hour after midnight.

  "Questions?"

  There were a few, but everybody was in general agreement that they knew what to do.

  After the briefing broke up, Maev walked over to Frenchy. She appeared a little nervous. "Ah, Frenchy?"

  "Hm?"

  "I, ah, just want to talk to you about something after this smuggler thing is finished tonight."

  Frenchy cocked an eyebrow. She was pretty sure what Maev wanted and it didn't take any special mental powers to figure it out. A blind woman could see what was happening. Just for fun, she decided to poke. "What about?"

  It still tickled Frenchy a little to see Maev squirm. "Oh, just something. I don't want to talk about it now. We'll have plenty of time later."

  Frenchy made a show of puzzled reluctance. "Well, if you're sure it can wait..."

  Maev blushed. "Well... err... yes! It can wait."

  "Okay."

  Maev grinned. "Great! See you later."

  Frenchy watched Maev make a beeline for Evan and smiled. Yep, there was no doubt what Maev was going to say, given the goofy Tribal customs. That was okay. Evan had better get ready. She was planning her own surprise.

  They rested for a while, taking a rotating watch as security, then ate dinner as the sun was setting. The meal was fresh game, courtesy of the hunting team of Evan and Maev. It tasted delicious and Frenchy wondered if it was the food or the tension of upcoming danger that made it taste so good.

  Thinking of the night's attack, she decided now would be a good time to see to her weapons. In the movies, that was always what soldiers did to get ready. Lacking better guidelines, that was good enough for her. Seating herself in the firelight, she carefully sharpened each head of her ax, just as Grae taught her to do. As she checked the charge in her bopper and made sure her spares were full, she looked up and noticed Weykhaz and Grete, sitting by themselves a little way off. He was carefully polishing his sword, but Grete was pressed next to him, whispering in his ear. Laughing, he put the weapon down and kissed her gently. The looks they exchanged spoke volumes. Frenchy felt a little like a voyeur.

  It also made her realize Grae was nowhere around and she decided to go find the bum. There were other things she wanted to do besides work on weapons before they went out to risk their lives. First, though, she had another little chore.

  She found Maev and Evan in another of the cave's rooms. They had their own tiny little fire going. By its light, she could see that Evan had already painted his face, commando-style. Maev, apparently, was going him one better. She was standing, rotating slowly and giggling while he applied the camouflage paint in a streak pattern over her whole body. That girl sure knew how to mix business with pleasure!

  They looked up as she approached. "Maev," she said, "come over here for a minute."

  Frenchy gritted her teeth. She really hated what she was going to do, but Grete agreed it was the right thing. Reaching out, she lifted the name pendant from around Maev's neck. Maev's look was a peculiar mixture of shock, surprise and hurt. "No, you're not free," Frenchy said in annoyance. "I just don't have what you'd call an honorable reason to do that."

  Maev's look of relief irritated Frenchy, but she could understand the way the girl thought by now. That meant doing this the Tribal way, damn it!

  Walking over to Evan, Frenchy roughly pressed the pendant into his hand. "Here, she's yours. She was going to ask for it, anyway."

  Turning to the surprised Maev, she said wryly, "I don't like giving one human being to another like a piece of goods, but I think he'll find a way to honorably unbind you, much easier than I could."

  Looking at the equally surprised Evan, she added, "She's your responsibility now, buddy, by Tribal custom. You've either got to find a way to unbind her that she will accept or marry the wench. Hope you guys are happy with whatever you work out."

  As Frenchy turned away, a happily squealing Maev shot past her and wrapped herself around Evan. Frenchy looked over her shoulder at the pair. She couldn't see Maev's expression, but Evan had the look of a man suddenly presented with a new car - and the payments.

  As she walked off looking for Grae, Frenchy paid a little attention to the sounds behind her. Off hand, she thought, the unbinding option wasn't going to be Evan's choice, not if Maev could help it. She was becoming familiar with the Tribes by now. When Tribal men – and women – fell, they fell hard, fast, and completely. As far as Maev was concerned, Evan was it for her. Case closed.

  Evan was so sure of how to get Maev's attention, F
renchy remembered. Well, he had it now. She chuckled at a thought. He was going to spend a long time wondering just who caught who.

  She found Grae, sitting on the hillside in the night outside the cave. "That rock got room enough for two?" she asked.

  Without a word or a glance at her, he patted the spot next to him. As she sat down, he gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She cuddled next to him and held him tightly around the waist. Together, her head on his shoulder, they looked out at the barren land, given its own kind of beauty by the full moon in the sky overhead. They sat like that for a long time. Finally, she brought up something that was bothering her. "Somethin's eating at you, bub. Care to talk about it?"

  He was silent for a while, still watching the night. Then, without turning his head, he said softly, "I wish I could, mistress, but it's a burden for me alone. When the time comes, you'll know. For now, let's let it be."

  She turned her head to look up at him earnestly, but found further argument stilled by a gentle finger on her lips. He was looking at her. Even in the dark, she could see the love in his eye. More than that, she could feel it in his thoughts. He took the finger away and replaced it with his lips.

  "You know," he whispered a few moments later, "there's one other urge that danger generates."

  She could feel his hands behind her back, working the fastenings on her leotard. "I think I can guess what that is," she whispered back. "Can I help you get this damn thing off?"

  #####

  As they finished saddling and loading the gorts for the move to the ridge, the tension in the air was palpable. Frenchy was nervous and could sense it in the other five. All six were now camouflage painted to blend into the night – to include Frenchy and Grete’s bare arms and legs as well as chests and arms on Grae and Weykhaz - and that gave the total appearance of the party a nightmarish quality Frenchy thought was right out of a horror movie. She and Grete also had their lustrous blonde hair put up under cloths to hide the possibility of light reflections.

  Maev gave her saddlebags a last pat, took her rifle from its saddle scabbard and looked around for a moment, then said to Evan, "I'll be back in a few minutes. There's something I have to do."

  Curious, Frenchy watched her walk to the mouth of the cave and stand, arms outstretched and rifle in hand as she faced the night. After a moment, she began to sing. Frenchy was surprised to hear her singing voice was high and sweet. The song was both haunting and ethereal. With memories of American Indians from the movies, Frenchy looked over at Grae and asked, "Can the smugglers hear her? Is she praying?"

  Grae shook his head. "No they can't hear her and no, she isn't praying. Bitter Water women have their own war song. That's it."

  Frenchy shuddered as she realized the beautiful song symbolized a challenge and a threat to an enemy. "Like I said, isn't she giving away our location?"

  Grae smiled grimly. "We're too far way for anything but animals or a passing lee'thal to hear us. Any lee'thal hearing her will give this place a wide berth. They know what that song means and they won't come within a mile of the singer." His smile became a wolfish grin as Frenchy shuddered.

  Evan, with an appreciative ear cocked towards Maev's singing, commented, "Now that's a nice sort of thing to do, but tribal songs don't fit our mission tonight."

  Weykhaz, tightening a last saddle strap, grunted, "And just what do you think fits this night?"

  Evan grinned at him and mounted his gort as Maev returned. "Taking out an enemy installation is a Scout mission, not Tribal war."

  He turned to the already mounted Grae, "Cap'n, remember what we used to sing goin' in on a drop? That'd be right tonight."

  Grae grinned back at him. Instead of answering him, Grae reached out and grabbed an imaginary handle at arm’s length with his left hand. Cupping his right next to it, he rapidly drew it back towards his chest, then forward in a ratcheting motion. Evan replied with the same gesture.

  Maev, seeing Frenchy's puzzled expression, leaned over and said, "That's the cocking motion used to charge a vehicle mounted, Mark Fifty heavy bolt gun. It's almost a Scout recognition signal."

  With a flourish, Evan drew his stutter gun, a short barreled and short stocked weapon about the size of Frenchy's bopper, and inserted a long rectangular charge magazine into the left side of its receiver. The other five also drew their personal weapons. Evan scanned the group then looked back at Grae. "Ready to ride, Cap'n," he reported.

  Frenchy noticed the normally laid back and laconic Evan was acting like a football fan with tickets to the Super Bowl. For that matter, Grae's personality was different, too. He was showing what books called a "command presence". The ghost of a smile on his lips told her he was feeling just as good as Evan. She wondered if all old soldiers got this big a charge out of putting on the uniform one more time. No uniform, she thought, but having a Scout mission was good enough for them.

  Grae checked the group himself then said, "Let's move out.

  "Troop S'ar'nt Major."

  "Aye, sir!" Evan responded.

  "Say we're comin'."

  "Aye, sir."

  Grae added, "But softly, S'ar’nt Major, softly."

  "Aye, sir!" Evan returned with a grin, then, in a low voice, began singing a jaunty little tune.

  "Oh, my mother was a lady,

  so she didn't love me,

  "Hey-y, Hanta Lay Ya,

  "She said my father was a bastard,

  so a soldier I'd be,

  "Hey-y, Hanta Lay Yo!"

  At first, it was just Evan and Grae singing, but the other Lycanthi, who obviously knew the song, quickly joined. Frenchy found herself chiming in on the choruses, as softly and merrily as the others sang. The song was funny, a happy-go-lucky little tune, but it was the war song of the most deadly soldiers a galactic civilization could produce. It said, more clearly than any rousing anthem, that somebody was going to have very serious and well deserved problems before the night was over.

  When the song ended and Evan began it again, Frenchy sang every word right along with all of them. She suddenly realized the purpose of the music. It was the same reason Maev sang before they mounted. It was like a war dance. It calmed the nerves and got the mind and body ready for battle.

  The magic in the music was working on her. She could feel her fear and nervousness ebbing away into the night, being replaced by an eager readiness. Okay, you bastards, she thought as she sang, you've tried to kill me twice and hung me out to dry once. Now I'm back, so look out!

  They were riding under disciplined silence long before they approached the point where they left the gorts the previous day. To her relief, Frenchy found she didn't have to crawl to get to the ridge where they were going to wait for the men. During the earlier reconnaissance, Grae found a route that was totally screened from the hill's view and they used it to move forward. Moving in a slow, careful stalk, Frenchy gave most of her attention to where she was putting her feet, leaving the rest of the surrounding night to the more experienced members of the group. She figured if there was trouble, they would see it coming long before her, anyway. She just didn't want to make some misstep that would alert the sentries and blow the whole thing.

  They settled quietly onto the ground on the ridge where the men had watched earlier, just below the crest. Frenchy carefully lay down next to Grae, with Evan on her left and Maev past him. Weykhaz and Grete were on the other side of Grae. Then they all slithered forward so they could see tonight’s target.

  Grae took his distance lenses from his belt pouch, studied the hillside facing them for a moment, and slowly handed the lenses to Frenchy. "Look at the hill, halfway down the crest, left hand side," he breathed into her ear.

  Puzzled, she did as he told her with equal slowness. She almost jerked away from the lenses in surprise. She'd heard of starlight scopes, but these things made the entire hill as bright as day! She could see every bush. No wonder Grae was careful about how they moved!

  There was a low glare coming from the point Gra
e wanted her to look at, almost like an arc light seen during the day. She handed the lenses back to him and tilted her head in silent question. Putting his mouth to her ear, he whispered, "Glow from his search screens. He ought to have them shielded, but he's too dumb to know that. That's where I'll be going."

  She nodded in silent comprehension. He reached over, put his hand behind her head and kissed her gently. Then he slipped his sword from his back and pressed it into her hands. "Care for my steel, mistress. I will be back to get it soon."

  Over his shoulder, Frenchy could see Weykhaz doing the same thing with Grete. By now, she knew what his action meant. She wasn't sure of the ritual reply, so she improvised. "It will be ready for you when you return," she whispered. Grae smiled and kissed her again.

  She heard movement behind her, and she turned to see Evan handing his stutter gun to Maev. "I don't have a sword," he said in very low tones, "so this will have to do. Be back soon."

  Even in the darkness, she could see the bright sparkle in Maev's eyes. The girl's entire body posture showed excitement.

  Reaching out, she grabbed Grae just as he was starting to move off. "Does he know what he's just done? That’s a marriage gesture." she whispered urgently in his ear.

  Grae leaned close and whispered back, "Evan was raised in the Port. He knows."

  Grae kissed her one more time, briefly, then moved silently down the ridge in a low crouch. Frenchy tried to follow the men with Grae's distance lenses, but, even with the hillside totally revealed by the lenses, she couldn't see them. Girl, she said to herself, those boys are good!

  Looking at Maev for a moment, she could see her staring dreamily out into the night, concentrating on the hill in front of them and hugging the stutter gun to herself like a bride's bouquet. That thought was pretty accurate, she decided.

  Turning to look at Grete, she could just make out the maternally smug smile on her face, even in the dark. Grete, it appeared, also saw the lovebirds.

  Catching a movement out of the corner of her eye, Frenchy glanced at the full moon in time to see a small group of shapes fly across it. Lee'thal! They were out tonight!