Sharon Green: The Warrior Within

The infernal banging had no trouble breaking through my sleep. I wrapped the pillow around my head and that drowned out most of it, but as soon as I drifted off to sleep again my grip loosened, and the pillow was pushed aside by the din.

“Fatherless son of a female trajg!” I snarled in Baldochi, struggling out of the covers and to my feet. I didn’t know what time it was, but as far as I’m concerned, a racket like that is a challenge day or night. I made it out of my bedroom and down the ramp to the first floor, then headed for the front door.

I caught a glimpse of myself as I passed the hall mirror, and would have turned back if I hadn’t been in such a foul humor. My hair, unfashionably long and unfashionably dark brown, was hanging every which way, including over my eyes. My yellow sleep suit was brief enough to earn me a citation from any peaceman alive, and I wasn’t even wearing any makeup. All in all a pretty outrageous sight, but I didn’t give a damn. Id needed the sleep I’d lost, and somebody was going to pay for it.

I was out into the sunshine before I realized it was there, and I had to squeeze my eyes nearly shut to keep from being blinded. The banging started again from my left, and I knew I’d been right. Sandy Kemper was at it again, but this time he wasn’t going to get away with it. Tinkering belongs in the privacy of your workshop, not in the public nervous system.

With my eyes opened to mere slits, I stalked through the bright, windless sunshine across the grass to the verge of Sandy’s landing circle. Sandy was there, in a dark green one-piece, leaning into the guts of his deep blue quadriwagon, and the banging was coming from the inside of the access breach. I was vaguely aware of someone or something stretched out under a nearby tree, but I paid no attention. Sandy was my target, and a very tempting target he made.

I stopped about a foot away from him, dutifully restraining myself as I called out his name, but the noise he was making drowned me out. I shrugged a little with what I knew was an evil grin, stepped a bit closer, then booted him in the behind with my bare right foot.

The banging stopped with a muffled, “Hey!” then there was a hollow-sounding clank, followed by Sandy twisting himself out of the quadriwagon. He straightened up with one hand on his head and a pained expression on his face, but he went wide-eyed at the sight of me.

“Terry,” he said weakly and for some reason nervously. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard your summons so I came right over,” I answered, folding my arms. “Or maybe I was mistaken and it was supposed to be a mating call. I’ve never heard the mating call of a quadriwagon.”

“It won’t envelop,” he explained apologetically gesturing vaguely toward the wagon. “What good is a quadriwagon that won’t envelop?”

“What good indeed.” I agreed pleasantly “All you can do with it then is take ground trips. Long, distant ground trips. Why the hell don’t you try it!” He flinched a little at my almost-shrill roar, then pushed his palms placatingly at me. “Now, Terry no need to lose your temper. I had no idea you were home yet, or I would have...”

“Well, now you know!” I snapped. “It isn’t bad enough that I had to spend four months straightening out that mess in Dremmler’s sector, just to get back in time for the Nervous Nellies’ Annual Hysterics and Fit-Throwing Convention. Oh, no! After fourteen solid hours of diplomatically assuring every neurotic xenophobe on the planet that we are not in imminent danger of being invaded by the nearest alien barbarian horde, I really needed your symphonic rendition of `When Worlds Collide’! Sandy you may be a colleague of sorts, but so help me if I hear even one more tinkle out of you, I’ll call the peacemen and activate an action against you for fire, flood, pestilence and rape! Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear,” he groaned, covering his eyes with one hand. “Very, very loud and perfectly clear.”

“You’d better,” I told him flatly. “Your XD-5 rating will be as worthless as that quadriwagon if I press charges. Just remember that.”

I gave his tall, thin form a last glare, turned to go back to my house, and promptly bounced off a brick wall instead. I “oofed” and went down, my hair obligingly covering my entire face.

“Terry, are you all right?” Sandy asked anxiously as I pawed the hair out of my eyes. He reached down fast to help me to my feet, but I ignored his outstretched hands in favor of the brick wall I’d collided with.

The man who stood there looked ten feet tall from where I sat in the grass. He also seemed about six feet wide, and every inch of his deeply tanned body was hard-muscled and trim. He had brilliant, light blue eyes, a mane of thick, light blond hair, and a grin pasted on his broad, rugged face. He stood easily relaxed with his brawny arms folded across his enormous chest, and all he wore was a pair of brief, dark gray swim trunks. I frowned as I looked at him, seeing something very out-of-place about him, there in the suburbs of Tallion City For some reason, he did not belong.

“Here, let me help you up.” Sandy fidgeted next to me, but I’d already decided to try out a theory that had just occurred to me. I raised my knees a little and leaned on them with my forearms, then smiled sweetly at Sandy.

“I think I’ll add assault to that list of charges.” I told him, and watched his face go pasty yellow “Who’s your coassailant?”

“Terry please be reasonable,” Sandy begged, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “This is just a friend of mine from Ashton who’s visiting me for a week or two. You don’t really want to make trouble for him, do you?”

“Why not?” I asked mildly “What’s his name?”

“It’s—ah—Fred. Fred O’Herlihy,” Sandy stuttered. “Fred O’Herlihy from Overton”

“I thought he was from Aston,” I commented, staring at a Sandy who looked like he was about to faint.

“That’s right, that’s right, Ashton. He moved from Overton to Aston.”

“Or vice versa.” I said disgustedly and got to my feet unaided. “Sandy, who do you think you’re kidding? That story wouldn’t have got past a retarded seven-year-old, let alone a Prime XenoMediator. Come on, now, give. Who is he and what’s he doing here?”

“I can’t tell you,” Sandy said in agony, just about wringing his hands. “Terry please. Just go back to your house and forget all about this. You have my word that I won’t make another sound.”

“I’ll bet you won’t.” I drawled, staring at “Fred O’Herlihy.” Good old Fred still looked ten feet tall, but his grin had widened. “Sandy, I have a hunch that Murdock McKenzie has another lark going. How’s my hunch quotient?”

“As high as ever” Sandy acknowledged miserably, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry Terry but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to come into my house. Murdock will want to know about this.”

“Not as much as Jack will want to.” I grinned. “I can’t wait to see the fur flying between those two again. This time Murdock will lose his ears. Let’s see whose call gets through first.”

I started back toward my house again, gleefully eager to pass on the word, and half-heard Sandy say something like, “Tammad!” It meant absolutely nothing to me, so I ignored it, but three steps later I got a very strong hint about what it might mean. A giant hand covered half my upper arm, and I was pulled definitely and firmly to a halt.

“Let go of my arm, Fred.” I said in exasperation to the still grinning giant. “I have a top-priority call waiting to be made, and you’re wasting my time.”