Sharon Green - The Warrior Within

“You might try learning to use a chair, barbarian!” I snapped, longing to throw something at that blond, shaggy-haired head. “But have no fear. I’d never think of suggesting a knife and prong. They’re obviously too far beyond you.”

I turned my back on him and strode out, still seething. Slamming my bedroom door helped, and slamming the bathroom door helped even more, but it still wasn’t enough. I walked back and forth a few times while the tub was filling, then climbed in and scrubbed myself briskly and quickly. I toweled down hard, slapped on body lotion, then put my face in the makeup applicator. The applicator was set for Alderanean accent styling, and I was in no mood to change it. I pulled my face out again, checked the black outlining, peach background, and three blood-red diagonal stripes on left cheek in the mirror, then moved to the hairstyler. The styler matched the makeup by piling and curling all of my hair to the right, pointing up the red stripes of high social position. Then, and only then, did I go for clothing.

The Alderanean day suit was a perfect match to my makeup and my mood. I wound the triple-stripe red legging around my right leg, then pulled on the peach and black tunic. The tunic came down to mid-thigh, showing off my figure with a pleasing number of pluses, the high-heeled ankle boots doing nothing to detract from it. I admired myself in the mirror a few moments, went to add filigreed loop earrings, then checked the picture again. This time it was perfect, so I strolled out of the room.

Tammad wasn’t in sight on the upper floor, but I found him down-ramp in my central hall, apparently waiting for something. He rose from his crouch when he saw me, showing he had his swim trunks on again. He studied me intently for a good deal longer than a minute, and what began as a smile ended in a grin.

“Your collat is tempting, woman,” he said, looking down at me with that annoying stare again. “Sorry I am that I must go now to the Sandy Kemper’s house. The Murdock McKenzie has sent clothing for me such as that of your world’s men. I shall take the clothing quickly and return to seek you. See that you do not leave until then.”

He leered at me again then turned away to go through the front door, and I let him go without saying a word as I was totally beyond words. As soon as the door closed I continued down the hall past the front door to my speedster hangar, and climbed into the speedster to warm it up.

“Collat indeed!” I muttered, watching the dials and waiting for the necessary RPMs. As if I would dress myself for the express purpose of tempting him! He had too high an opinion of himself, and it was time he got taken down a peg. As soon as the RPMs met minimum I released the hangar door, rolled out to the landing circle, and took off straight up.

Tallion City was only twenty minutes away, and that’s where I was heading. I leaned back in my seat, piloting manually instead of on automatic, thinking about what Sandy’s quadriwagon had done to the Neighborhood lawn. There had been two straight furrows all the way through the grass from Sandy’s landing strip out in the direction of the service mall. I’d seen them clearly from the air, and the Neighborhood Chairman was bound to see them, too. Sandy would have his head beaten for destroying the lawn, and it couldn’t happen to a more deserving fellow. lf we’d wanted ground traffic in our Neighborhood, we would have put in roads and walkways.

I was blinked into the T.C. traffic pattern and ordered to automatize my destination. Manual flying in Tallion City was prohibited, and for good reason. Out of thousands of people going to hundreds of different places, it’s not unreasonable to expect at least one to experience loss of control. Since even one flyer out of control can kill hundreds of people, flyers flew automatically or not at all. If the flyer itself failed, it was caught in the traffic net that was waiting for it. You can’t expect a traffic control computer to provide for a failing flyer that isn’t meshed into its network.

I was landed easily on my parking building in almost no time at all, took my shoulder bag and left the speedster to be put in its slot, then took the express drop to ground floor. I had a good deal of buying to catch up on, so I dove into it with enthusiasm, but the enthusiasm soon paled. The newest clothing styles were dull and colorless, this year’s furniture was heavy and repelling, and even the jewelry was badly set and lustreless. After hours of wasting my time, I gave up and went to my Neighborhood eating center. I could have gone elsewhere, of course, but after the day I’d had, I was in no mood for inferior courses.

The green and brown room was dim and inviting after the crowds in the buying audiences. People sat companionably at small tables while soft music played, and as I stood still a moment to let my eyes adjust to the lower lighting, I heard my name being called. I peered around through the privacy shimmer-strands, and saw Lenham Phillips coming toward me.

“Terry!” He laughed as he reached me. “It’s hard to believe you’re finally home! Let me offer my table in appreciation of that breathtaking outfit. It will make the food taste so much better.”

“Len Phillips.” I smiled fondly. “As big a liar as ever, but welcome in spite of that. How have you been doing?”

“Not badly,” he said, taking my arm and leading me to his table. “Not as well as you, my dear Prime, but not at all badly. How was Dremmler’s sector?”

“Don’t remind me!” I grimaced, taking a chair opposite his. His gray street suit fit well on his athletic body, his smile making his dark-blond handsomeness even more attractive. “Dremmler’s sector probably has the hardest heads and densest minds in the entire Amalgamation. Just pray that you never have to mediate there. It isn’t even worth a class-one vacation leave.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.” He laughed, taking my hand in both of his. “From now on, we’re going to have to do something about our timing. You just got back, and I have to leave tonight. All that gives us is this afternoon. Will you go to a real with me?”

At first the idea wasn’t very appealing, but then I changed my mind. “Why not?” I asked lightly. “Being with a civilized man is just what I need.”

“I should hope so,” he said with raised eyebrows, watching as I chose my meat from the table’s chef. “Have you been spending much time with any other sort?”

“Not really.” I laughed. “It’s just that being away from Central makes me colicky. I’ll be fine as soon as I’m back in the swing of things.”

“I’m sure of it.” He smiled. “I saw Jan the other day and she made a point of asking if I’d seen The Terror lately. She said if I did, I was to be sure to insist that you call her.”

“With her temper, she has a nerve calling me The Terror,” I muttered, moving in the gold, deep-cushioned chair in annoyance. “I don’t know who she picked it up from.”

“I do,” he grinned, “but I think it would be more diplomatic if I kept it to myself. I don’t want you walking out on me before we get to the real.”

“I’d better not pursue that,” I decided, watching the sauteed valmin I’d ordered being slid to the table in front of me. “In the mood I’m in, walking out would be more of a certainty than a risk.”

He patted my hand in appreciation, then turned to his own food. We ate in companionable silence until we were through, then left to find a real.

“I know just the one,” Len said as we moved down the slidewalk. “Guy and Vera experienced it, and couldn’t rave about it enough. It’s a double, or I would have gone on my own before this. How does that sound?”

“I suppose it’ll do.” I said grudgingly “I have no preferences one way or the other.”