notwithstanding. In a word: unbeatable.
She knew it too. Enjoyed the reputation and attentive awe that went with it. Men were at once intensely enamored with and terrified of her. She simply could not be bested with a sword—not at Colony Six, anyway, and in a place where the men outnumbered the women three to one…well, it made for an interesting career.
They were all in love with her; all the men and many of the women. She was beautiful, exotic, talented, lethal. It’s easy to love people like that. Even the Colony Commander wasn’t immune; him with his stuffy little paneled office and his stuffier little shirt…
* * *
“Come in, Sheffield, yes…”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sit down, please.” My God, is THAT her uniform! Is she running around the halls like that?
“I prefer to stand, thank you, sir.” It shows me off better.
“As you wish.” >ahem!< “ Now, as you’ve no doubt heard, we’ve got an AWOL as of last night, Sheffield. A cadet…uh…papers and name here somewhere…”
“’Leakwood,’ sir.”
“‘Leakwood,’ yes. Cadet Leakwood.AWOL as of 0730. Our first AWOL in seven years. Seven years, Sheffield. The first ever on my watch. I don’t like it. Don’t like it a bit. I want him back, do you understand? I want him alive. I want him disciplined. Do you understand me, Sheffield?”
“I do, sir.”
“It’s a blemish, Sheffield. You can appreciate that.”
She looked down a moment at her perfect arms, unblemished breasts. “Yes, sir.”
“We can rectify this thing, Sheffield. Cleanly. Efficiently. Without it getting upstream, if you take my meaning. We have the training, we have the technology. We’re one of the best, Sheffield, one of the very best. We don’t want a blemish like this on Colony record, on everything Fleet stands for.”
He cleared his throat, found himself staring at her torso without approval. “That…ah, uniform you’re wearing. Has it been officially recognized?”
“It has sir. I designed it myself. After the Princess Dejah Thoris.”
“The who?”
“Dejah Thoris, sir, a fictional creation of Edgar Rice Burroughs.”
“Burroughs…”
“Twentieth Century novelist, sir. He’s all the rage now.”
“Is he now? Huh.” Furrowing of brow, shaking of head. “What they’re passing for regulation these days. Now, in my day, we… anyway, you’ll wear something else for this mission. Something less…revealing.”
“Sir, I prefer to go as I am. This is designed as a combat uniform.”
“Perhaps, Sheffield, but it’s hardly…I mean, your…bosom—it’s unprotected.”
“Bare breasts are quite common on Cylis 4 now, sir.”
“I’m aware of what is and isn’t vogue, Sheffield, but—“
“Sir, I believe my present uniform will afford me with the greatest amount of comfort, familiarity and physical dexterity for the mission, thereby serving as the best asset to my abilities.”
* * *
Clever, that speech. But then, she’d rehearsed it thirty or forty times before entering his office in anticipation of his remarks. Self-designed combat uniforms were more and more commonplace on Fleet soldiers now, but this one was almost too radical. Like everything else about her.
She smiled a confident little smile as she moved through the forest. Every female at Colony Six was jealous of her ability to handle the Commander. If they only realized how simple it was; how, under all the brass and bluff, he was just like all men. Weak.
Ahead and to the right a twig snapped.
Her smile broadened. She was on Leakwood’s trail to be sure; he had, in fact, made little attempt to conceal it. But an ambush in this clearing? Not likely. Leakwood just wasn’t the type. Besides, unless she’d missed her guess, Leakwood liked her.
It wasn’t surprising, then, to find a stranger confronting her when she rounded the next tree.
She knew it too. Enjoyed the reputation and attentive awe that went with it. Men were at once intensely enamored with and terrified of her. She simply could not be bested with a sword—not at Colony Six, anyway, and in a place where the men outnumbered the women three to one…well, it made for an interesting career.
They were all in love with her; all the men and many of the women. She was beautiful, exotic, talented, lethal. It’s easy to love people like that. Even the Colony Commander wasn’t immune; him with his stuffy little paneled office and his stuffier little shirt…
* * *
“Come in, Sheffield, yes…”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sit down, please.” My God, is THAT her uniform! Is she running around the halls like that?
“I prefer to stand, thank you, sir.” It shows me off better.
“As you wish.” >ahem!< “ Now, as you’ve no doubt heard, we’ve got an AWOL as of last night, Sheffield. A cadet…uh…papers and name here somewhere…”
“’Leakwood,’ sir.”
“‘Leakwood,’ yes. Cadet Leakwood.AWOL as of 0730. Our first AWOL in seven years. Seven years, Sheffield. The first ever on my watch. I don’t like it. Don’t like it a bit. I want him back, do you understand? I want him alive. I want him disciplined. Do you understand me, Sheffield?”
“I do, sir.”
“It’s a blemish, Sheffield. You can appreciate that.”
She looked down a moment at her perfect arms, unblemished breasts. “Yes, sir.”
“We can rectify this thing, Sheffield. Cleanly. Efficiently. Without it getting upstream, if you take my meaning. We have the training, we have the technology. We’re one of the best, Sheffield, one of the very best. We don’t want a blemish like this on Colony record, on everything Fleet stands for.”
He cleared his throat, found himself staring at her torso without approval. “That…ah, uniform you’re wearing. Has it been officially recognized?”
“It has sir. I designed it myself. After the Princess Dejah Thoris.”
“The who?”
“Dejah Thoris, sir, a fictional creation of Edgar Rice Burroughs.”
“Burroughs…”
“Twentieth Century novelist, sir. He’s all the rage now.”
“Is he now? Huh.” Furrowing of brow, shaking of head. “What they’re passing for regulation these days. Now, in my day, we… anyway, you’ll wear something else for this mission. Something less…revealing.”
“Sir, I prefer to go as I am. This is designed as a combat uniform.”
“Perhaps, Sheffield, but it’s hardly…I mean, your…bosom—it’s unprotected.”
“Bare breasts are quite common on Cylis 4 now, sir.”
“I’m aware of what is and isn’t vogue, Sheffield, but—“
“Sir, I believe my present uniform will afford me with the greatest amount of comfort, familiarity and physical dexterity for the mission, thereby serving as the best asset to my abilities.”
* * *
Clever, that speech. But then, she’d rehearsed it thirty or forty times before entering his office in anticipation of his remarks. Self-designed combat uniforms were more and more commonplace on Fleet soldiers now, but this one was almost too radical. Like everything else about her.
She smiled a confident little smile as she moved through the forest. Every female at Colony Six was jealous of her ability to handle the Commander. If they only realized how simple it was; how, under all the brass and bluff, he was just like all men. Weak.
Ahead and to the right a twig snapped.
Her smile broadened. She was on Leakwood’s trail to be sure; he had, in fact, made little attempt to conceal it. But an ambush in this clearing? Not likely. Leakwood just wasn’t the type. Besides, unless she’d missed her guess, Leakwood liked her.
It wasn’t surprising, then, to find a stranger confronting her when she rounded the next tree.
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