"One Hundred Over Ten"
A Last Frontier story
By Marina Twelve and Thomas R.

 
 

Chapter Four

     Leslie and Morris set up a telescope camera on a nearby hill that formed part of the rim that enclosed the hilltop meadow. By morning they had an excellent view of the surrounding countryside.

    About a mile away was what appeared to be a major road—or what passed for one on this planet.  It seemed less than twenty feet wide and appeared to be paved with white looking flagstones.    There were people walking in small groups, in both directions and the occasional horseman.

   “We are not going to be able to wear our normal clothes.” Said Leslie as she watched several small groups of people walk by on the com Screen that was connected to the camera.

    “Well, I left my tunic at home.” Said Morris, “But I see what you mean. We don’t want to attract any unusual attention.”

     “Bed sheets!” Said Bainbridge, who was listening in. “You have never been to a toga party?  Old college tradition.”

     “They’re Not wearing bed sheets,” Said Leslie.

     “No, but we can make some passable tunics or something that looks normal for these people, out of sheets.”

      “You have a point, but are you a seamstress?  I sure as hell ain’t.”

     “I bet Portia could help us,” Bainbridge replied.  “With your permission, Captain . . .”

     “By all means,” Said Leslie.  “See what she can do for us.”

     “We have one more problem,” Morris spoke up.  “What are we going to use for money?  What do we have that these people will value?”

     “Shit, you have a point there Morris.” Leslie replied. “All I can think of is gold or copper.  Neither of which is kept on the ship.”

      “What about Jewelry?”

      “Save for this pendant of Adrienne’s and my wedding ring, I have no jewelry.  I’m not the typical woman you know.”

     “What about Melissa or Zee?”

     “Zee has a few silver trinkets and I saw Melissa with a pair of gold looking ear-rings once.  Then there is that gold nugget I took from that Enforcer Ship Captain near the Antarian Llimit.”

     Bainbridge was listening to the conversation.  “Salt!  Use salt.”

     “Salt?” replied Morris.

     “Yes, remember your military history.  The Roman soldiers were actually paid with salt.  It was a valuable commodity in ancient times.”

     “Salt we got.” Said Leslie. “We can see what we have in the ration bin.  In any event, I suppose that we will need to bring all of our food with us and be prepared to camp out in the open.  For all we know, all of our salt may not be enough to buy us a night in an inn or even a loaf of bread. A soldier’s pay never has been extravagant by any means.”

     A couple of hours later, Portia had fashioned “passable” tunics for Doc, Morris, Bainbridge, Pyramus and Marcus.  There was very little actual sewing involved.  They used leather belts and ropes to secure them at the waist.  Zee, Leslie and Portia wore similar garments, only longer.

     Bainbridge supplemented his costume with a robe, and a more elaborate version of his bath towel turban.  Zee wore a hood over her head, not only for personal reasons, but to guard against the very real possibility of sunburn.  Portia and Leslie each had a makeshift veil made from the leftover fabric.

     Zee, Morris, Leslie, Doc and Bainbridge strapped their holsters to their thighs and kept their weapons hidden beneath their tunics.  Yes, It would be harder for Zee and Leslie to quickly reach their firearms should the need to use them arise, but hopefully, such a situation would never occur anyway.

     Leslie was sure to hide both of her shives in easily accessible places in her clothing.  Zee kept her 14 inch “Pigsticker” in her sheath, behind her neck, as usual.  Morris strapped his sword on his back.

     Melissa and Bill were to stay on the Retribution.  Not only to guard the ship, but to be able to fly it to the crew’s rescue, should the situation warrant it.

     “OK,“ said Leslie as she addressed the crew. “As we are dealing with humans here, I am ultimately in charge. Is that all right Morris?” He warily nodded his consent.

     “I’m the Sheriff and Morris is the soldier.  That is our agreement.  He will be in charge of all military type action.  No one will use or draw their firearms or use any twenty-third Century technological devices without my consent.  We cannot afford to create any incident that could be attributed to a technology beyond what these people are capable of.

      “The REPs are monitoring events on this planet.  If they should hear of any incident involving firearms, com systems or whatever, they will be on to us and the game will be up.  Firearms will be used only as an absolute last resort.---GOT THAT!”

    “Yes Captain!” replied Zee

    “Uh . . . Yes . . . Les . . . Captain” Doc replied.

     Bainbridge only nodded his assent. Morris didn’t have to,  he understood the situation very well.

    “Our Mission will be to travel to Remos and investigate the so called “demon temple”.” Leslie continued.  “Marcus and Portia will serve as guides.  Bainbridge, you will do the talking for us.  Those of us with translators can understand, but cannot yet speak the language.  Morris, you and Doc will be our security team.  Me and Zee will be the investigators.”

     “We will determine all we can about the REP influence and presence on this planet and then report the location and the situation to Space Command Central, when we can get within range of a Terran J-com relay.”

     “Might I ask a question?” Asked Bainbridge.  “Why are we bringing the boy along?  Wouldn’t he be safer on the ship?”

     “Well, if we get a chance to insure Portia’s and Marcus’s freedom, Pymamus must be freed with them.  We might not have time to go back to the ship to retrieve him.”

    

     The “secure” landing site of the Retribution posed yet another problem.  There was no path down the mountainside.  The group would have to climb down to the level of the road.

      The climb was not very difficult.  Mostly “inconvenient”.  The “Mountain” was part of a small chain of rugged hills that rose only a few hundred feet above the surrounding countryside. The slope was not excessively steep, but a lot of rocks and boulders had to be negotiated and climbed over and around.

       Portia seemed to need a lot of help.  It wasn’t easy for Zee or Leslie either.  Their long tunics kept getting in the way and afforded little protection against minor dings and scrapes. Morris and Doc came to Zee’s aid on a couple of occasions.  They BOTH knew better than to attempt to assist Leslie.

***************

     The bed-sheet tunics were quite dirty by the time the group reached the road.  But that was good, it looked like they had been traveling for several days.  They sat by the roadside for about an hour and rested before continuing their journey.

     Bainbridge and Morris lead the way, Leslie, Portia, Zee and Pyramus followed. Doc and Markus protected the rear.

     From the milepost, it could be determined that they were about forty miles from Remos.  Given the time of day, they would have to spend at least one night on the road.

     Despite their efforts to “fit in” however, they still did not look quite right.  To be sure, they appeared as first Century travelers, but still, other people passing by on the road were staring at them. 

     Not only were they dressed somewhat strangely, perhaps appearing as foreigners, but Leslie noticed that very few of the other small groups of travelers had hardly any women with them.  To see three women in such a small group of travelers was quite unusual indeed.

     “Make a note Morris, “ Said Leslie. “As soon as we find a marketplace or some such place, we’ll get us some local clothing, the genuine article.”

      Morris, also noticing the suspicious looks of passers by, agreed.  “Yes, hopefully, before we attract the WRONG kind of attention.”

    Morris had no sooner spoken, when from around the bend, appeared a column of about twenty marching foot soldiers, accompanied by a military-looking man, with a red cape and gold adorned helmet, riding a horse.  They looked remarkably like “Roman” soldiers in the pictures and on the old videos and movies. 

    Leslie’s group stood to the side of the road to let them pass.  The man on the horse stopped as his men continued to march by, and he closely scrutinized the strangers.

 

    “Hail Strangers!”  The man spoke.  “Who are you and from where do you come?”

    Although everybody, except Doc, could understand the man, Bainbridge was the only one in the party who could speak the language.  Bainbridge stepped forward.

     “I am Saleem.” Bainbridge replied.  “We come from the land far to the South.  We are traveling to Remos.”

     The horseman looked at Bainbridge skeptically. “The SOUTH?  He laughed.  You hardly appear to be one of the cold Forest people.”

     Bainbridge had forgotten about the ‘inverse geography’ of the planet.  He attempted to recover.  “Oh, I beg your pardon sir, I meant to say the NORTH.  Your tongue is still new to me.”

    “Well, Which is it?”  The horseman suspiciously demanded. “North or South?”

     “North sir, NORTH!”

     “Then why do you approach Remos from the South?”

      “I have purchased these slaves from the City to the South.”  Said Bainbridge, as he pointed at Marcus and Portia.

    The horseman Held up his hand to signal his troops to halt, and then dismounted.

    He walked over to Portia and Marcus and pulled their tunics back to examine the brands on their shoulders.  The officer seemed satisfied.

    “Who are these others?”

     “My traveling companions, sir.”

     “You travel with two women?”

     “No, I plan to sell these two women in Remos, where they will fetch the better price.”

      Leslie cringed, but she had to admire Bainbridge for being able to think so quickly on his feet.

     The man looked admiringly at Leslie and then walked over to Zee.  He pulled her hood down revealing her bald head.  It only surprised the man momentarily as he was distracted by Zee’s other more attractive features.

     “Where is she from?”

      “I know not, sir.  She is from some land far to the West of my own country.”  In Zee’s case Bainbridge could make a case for either direction, if need be.

     “I wish to purchase the fair haired one!”

     Leslie couldn’t believe her ears.  She gave Bainbridge a look that said he had better talk himself out of this one or she would have his shinny head on a pole.

      “But sir!  I must take these women to Remos.  My own Master would not take it kindly if I did not get the highest price possible . . .”

     “Silence!” said the officer.  “Do YOU know who I am?”

     “No.”

     “I am Antonius Marcellus, Senator of Amelda and Tribune to the Southern Remonian Legion.”

     “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

      Antonious straightened up.  “I will forgive your insolence this time, foreigner.  It is apparent that you know little of our country.  Here!” He thrust a small, but heavy leather bag into Bainbridge’s hand.

     Bainbridge, opened the bag and looked inside.  It was full of glittering GOLD coins.

     “That’s TWICE what she will fetch in the markets of Remos.  Your master will be very happy.”

     Bainbridge stared with open mouth, wondering what to do or say next.  Leslie’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

    Morris stepped up between Leslie and Antonius. 

    “Don’t Morris!” Leslie said in English. “ We can’t fight off all of his men--- At least not without causing a commotion that would soon be brought to the REP’s attention.”

     “Then what do you propose we do?”

     “Nothing yet.  Follow us at a safe distance and I will attempt to escape from his camp tonight.”

     “You are going to let him TAKE you?”

     “I don’t see that we have much choice at the moment, we . . . “

     “Silence!” said Antonius as he roughly grabed Leslie by her arm, put her across his shoulder and bodily sat her precariously, “side saddle” on his horse.

     Bainbridge stood with his mouth open as events unfolded.

     “Does she speak Remonian?”  Antonius asked.

      “S . . . She understands, but does not speak it . . . Yet.”

       Antonius took some leather lashing and tied Leslie’s hands together, and tied the loose ends around her waist. He then climbed back upon his horse, behind Leslie, signaled his men forward and proceeded with them to the North.

     Morris was Stunned! “ Bainbridge! What did you DO?”

     “I don’t believe it myself! I just sold Captain Webber!  What else COULD I do?”

     “We’ll do what she suggested, We will follow them until they make camp.  Let Leslie make her move and then help her to make good her escape.”

***************

    Leslie said nothing as she sat on Antonius horse.  She didn’t know whether to be angry or afraid.  Everything had happened much too quickly. 

     Antonius was astride his saddle sitting directly behind her.  His arms were on either side of her body, so as to keep her from falling off the animal and to handle the reigns.  The way Leslie’s hands were tied, she could not reach either of her shives. 

     It was frustrating!  She could stick the man and steal his horse.  His men would not be able to do anything about it as she galloped off.----Low tech and effective---but not to be.

     It was late afternoon when the soldiers left the main road and set up camp in a clearing in the woods.  Antonius supervised the operation from horseback.  The tents were set up very quickly.  Everyone knew just what to do and did it.  Leslie admired the efficiency of the men.

     “Hail Antonius!” spoke a voice from below and to Antonius’s side. “I see you have acquired a new accouterment for you tent.  Very Nice.”

     Leslie looked down to see a smiling man wearing a clean white tunic, a red cape and a gold buckle on his belt.   

      “What is your name woman?” Antonius asked.

      

      “Leslie Webber”

      “Lesliewebber?  A strange name.  But all barbarian names are strange.”

     “LESLIE!” Leslie reiterated.

     “Leslie? Still strange, but better.  Lucius! Take her to my tent.  Don’t untie her until you thoroughly search her. Get her ready.  I will return shortly.”

     “As you wish, lord Antonius.”

     “Now LESLIE, will go with my servant, Lucius, here and I expect you to obey him as you shall obey me.”

     “And Lucius, I expect you to treat Leslie properly.  Do your job, but don’t put your hands or any other body parts where they need not be.  Am I understood?”

    “Yes, lord Antonius.”

    Antonius pushed Leslie from his horse and Lucius caught her as her feet struck the ground. 

     Lucius put his hand on Leslie’s shoulder and guided her to a large tent.  He untied the leather bindings from her waist, but still kept her hands tied.  He then re-tied the bindings on the central tent pole, so Leslie’s hands were above her head.

     Next Lucius took a small iron rod and showed it to Leslie.  It was a branding iron, with a symbol on it not much different in size than the marks on Portia and Marcus.  He stuck it into the brassier to heat it up.

    “If you come near me with that thing again, you better know a very good proctologist!”  Leslie snarled at the man.

    Unfortunately, Lucius didn’t understand a word of what she said.

     While the iron was heating, Lucius began to disrobe her.  It didn’t take him long to find the shives.

     “Tisk Tisk, my dear, we can’t let you go running around with these can we?”  He thrust them into his belt and finished removing Leslies clothes.

    “My , My, very fine indeed.” He said as he admired Leslie’s body. “And hardly a mole or blemish anywhere.”

    “Ah, what is this?”  Said Lucius as he noticed the glittering object secured by a leather band to Leslie’s Right thigh.    

Lucius examined the strange object strapped to Leslie’s leg.  He tried pulling it off, but then noticed the buckle.  As he attempted to rotate the strap around to a more convenient position to unfasten, He noticed that the shiny metal object slid upward along a side slot, and off of a small metal clip in the strap.      To Leslie’s relief, she saw that the gun was still in its safety mode.  It was incredible!  Lucius had absolutely NO idea of what he was holding in his hand---or even HOW to hold it.     As Leslie held her breath, Lucius held the weapon upside down, while looking into the barrel.  With his thumb, he tried to pull back on the trigger, but thanks to the safety, it wouldn’t move.  He inverted the device in his hand and, by chance, grasped it properly.

    He inadvertently pointed it directly into Leslie’s horrified looking face as he played with the “anti muzzle rise jet adjustment” and slid the selector switch to the full automatic position.

     By now Lucius had found the device more interesting than Leslie herself.  To Leslie’s relief, Lucius left her tent, and proceeded outside to examine his new toy more closely.

***************

     Meanwhile, Morris was as good as his word.  As soon as Antonius’s men had disappeared around the bend in the road, He and the others began to follow at a safe distance. 

     They stayed back far enough so as not to be recognizable by anyone in the column.  They stopped to rest when the soldier’s stopped to rest, and resumed their journey when the soldiers resumed their march.  After several hours, the troops, along with Antonius, and his horse, turned off the road and marched into the forest.

      Morris ordered Bainbridge and Doc to stay with and guard the others,  and stay well to the rear while he, himself, led the way as he followed the soldiers down the forest trail. 

     Less than a mile from the road, He heard the command and the soldiers begin to set up camp.  He moved in closer through the bushes, to see if he could get a glimpse of Leslie.

     Suddenly, he almost bumped into one of the rear guards.  The man was startled as much as Morris was, but reacted much more quickly. 

    Morris backed away just as the guard drew his sword.  By the smile on his face, the man thought Morris an easy target.  It then dawned on Morris that he WOULD have to KILL this man---or be killed himself.

       To his horror, he actually asked himself the question “Can I do it?”. Curse WEBBER! and her head games!

     In one clean motion, he grasped the hilt of his Ninja sword, and brought the weapon down on his foe.  The blade sliced from the left side of the guard’s neck and under the right armpit.  The head and right arm of the man was detached in one gory segment.

     “Holy shit!”  Thought Morris as he surveyed the damage and looked at the bloody blade.  It had cut through the man’s body, flesh and bone, like butter. He had not realized how dangerous it was.

     As far as killing a man went, One question was answered.  He COULD do it and he had.  He also knew he could do it again if he had to.  Fortunately, Leslie had not damaged his self-confidence as much as he had feared.

     The immediate threat removed, Morris edged closer to the camp.  He now could see several tents, including a couple of taller ones.  A man emerged from one of the larger structures carrying a shiny object in his hand.

    Morris couldn’t quite see exactly what it was, but it could very well have been Leslie’s “Hundred over Ten” automatic.

*************

     Leslie frantically began to rub the leather thongs that bound her hands, against the tent pole.  She had to get to the ground, and fast!  As soon as Lucius releases the safety on the gun, and he soon would, all hell would break loose.  Bullets could be flying everywhere.

    With a final effort she broke the weakened bonds and pressed herself flat to the ground.   So far so good.  Leslie began to crawl slowly to the opening of the tent.  Damn!  A guard was standing out there.  She began to search for another way out from under the tent, where she wouldn’t be seen ---Then it happened.

     BRAAAAAAAAAP! Leslie expected it, but it still took her by surprise.  And it was LOUD!

      ZIP!  ZIP!  At least two stray projectiles shot through the tent fabric, AND the guard, at about chest level.  Leslie pressed her face into the dirt.  The horse, sans rider, galloped past her in a panic.

       She peeked from behind the guard’s body, over towards the center of commotion.  A VERY shocked looking Lucius was staring in open-mouthed awe at the object in his hand, and the three apparently dead men at his feet.  Several other men were, lying or writhing in pain, on the ground, either dead or wounded at various other locations around the camp.

     Leslie cringed in horror, as Lucius, not sure himself as to what had just happened, turned the weapon around in his hand, looked into the barrel of the gun to see what was there.  Of course, his thumb was on the trigger . . .

     BRAAAAAAAAP!  As the upper half of Lucius’s head was chopped into bloody shards, those still around him panicked and ran off in all directions.

    Leslie now saw her chance.  Yes, she was naked, but she had other more important concerns now.  She ran over to Lucius’s body.  The soldiers in the immediate vicinity were either incapacitated or running about in confusion and panic.

    First things first!  She pulled the gun from Lucius’s dead fingers and moved the selector switch to the three shot burst position. Next she grabbed the first covering she could get her hands on.  It was a long, blood spattered, red wool cape that was lying near Lucius’s body.

   She pulled the cape under her right armpit, quickly wraped it around her body and tied it over her left shoulder. It covered her just barely, but good enough.

    She turned to see Antonius and three of his men running in her direction.  She wasn’t sure if they were coming for her or were checking on what had happened to Lucius, but that didn’t matter.  She pointed the gun at them.  They appeared not to be phased at all.  They looked at the dead men on the ground, looked at her and continued walking towards her.

     Leslie held up her left hand to signal them to stop, but the gun, something they had no concept of, failed to impress them.

     Leslie, a C.O., herself, noted Antonius’s subtle signal to a man on his left, who then proceeded to approach Leslie as if to grab her.

     P-P-POWWWW!  Leslie fired a three shot burst into the mans chest.  It stitched three holes into his breastplate and through his sternum.  He fell down like a tree.  To her surprise, the weapon had nearly wrenched itself from her hand.

    “Damnit!” She thought.  Lucius had gotten the anti muzzle rise jets out of adjustment. There was no time to re-adjust them to her settings.  She switched the selector to single shot mode.

     The other two men accompanying Antonius, ran away in a blind panic, frightened either by what they saw or the loud noise of the gun itself.  To his credit, Antonius stood firm.

    He drew his sword and approached Leslie.  She hesitated for a second and then . . . KPOW!

     Antonius went down in pain.  Leslie had shot him in the leg.  If Antonius was important as he said he was, Leslie figured, it might not be a good idea to kill him. 

     “No sense in making the situation any more serious than it already is.” She thought.  “Something like the mysterious death of a Senator and Tribune might be just serious enough to attract REP attention.”

     She walked over to the incapacitated Antonius, pointed the  “Hundred over Ten” at his head, and smiled.  THIS time the man flinched.  He had learned to take notice of the barrel of a gun. “Very good” Leslie thought.  He NOW had a healthy respect for her capabilities.

     Leslie noticed his helmet lying on the ground next to him.  KPOW!  It jumped nearly as high as Antonius did as she shot a hole through the center of it.

    “Don’t mess with the goddess of thunder and lightning.” She remarked. Yes she knew that the man didn’t understand a word of what she said, but she couldn’t resist.

    Leslie ran towards the edge of the camp.  The soldiers that hadn’t run away in panic were now rushing towards Antonius and the site of the commotion, Leslie, despite her scantily clad condition was virtually ignored.

    Leslie Nearly shot Morris as he stepped out from behind some shrubs, but caught herself just in time.

     “Don’t do that!” Said Leslie angrily, “I nearly killed you.”

      Morris shook his head in wonderment. “Damnnn!  I have to hand it to you, Webber. You are certainly keeping true to form. Already you have left a trail of carnage and mayhem, made a powerful enemy, and you haven’t been on this planet a day yet.” He said with a grin.

     “How many did you kill this time?”

     “Only one. Antonius’s friend did the rest for me. I should be proud of my self really.  Antonius is the first foe I have let live since my change.  Not only does he know that I am capable of killing him, he also knows that I have I spared his life.   Given his position, he might be of some use to us.”

     “He’ll be hunting you---US down!  We will have to return to the ship.”

    “No need for that.  We have money now.  We can get us some normal clothes and blend into the population.  Antonius will be no problem. I frightened him. I doubt if he thinks I’m even human.”

     “I wonder about that sometimes myself.”

     “Did you hurt yourself?” Leslie asked as she noticed the blood on Morris’s Tunic.

     “I encountered a bit of resistance.  Great Grandpa’s sword has proven itself quite efficient.”

     “I’m proud of you Morris. I really didn’t think that you had it in you, to kill a human face to face like that.”

     “No thanks to YOU.  I could still hear your words echo in my mind when I faced the guy.---But I did what I had to do anyway.”

    “Sorry about that.  The first time is always the most difficult.  It gets much easier after that.”

   

*************

   As Antonius’s men might be searching the local inns, Leslie’s party slept in the woods, that night, not far from the road.

     Portia, Morris and Bainbridge left for Remos the next morning.  At least Portia looked “normal”, Bainbridge could speak the language, and they needed a big guy like Morris to protect them if they got into trouble.

     Money was no longer a problem.  Bainbridge still had the bag of gold that Antonius had given him to buy Leslie.

     Leslie, Zee, Pyramus, Marcus and Doc, stayed behind at their camp in the woods.

     Morris was quite surprised by the city. The architecture was hard to ascribe to any one particular era or place.  Most of the buildings reminded him of the 1930’s stucco, tile roof type buildings, even down to the window panes, vestiges of which could still be seen on north America’s West Coast.

    A few other structures soaring up to seven stories high, With stores and shops on the ground floor and apartments above, looked a lot like the nineteenth century vintage buildings that lined the streets in most Earth cities in previous centuries.

     There were a LOT of shutters and awnings, owing to the obvious shortage of window glass and the sunny, warm weather.  One striking feature was the COLOR.  Red, blue and yellow paint decorated everything, even to the point of gaudiness. The place looked more “Gypsy” than the typical idea of “Roman”.  Even the few “Roman looking” buildings, with their columns and pediments were garishly painted with all kinds of bright designs and patterns.  There was hardly any of the expected classic “white marble” to be seen.

    “What kind of a crazy place IS this?” Morris spoke aloud to himself.

     “Welcome to ancient Rome.” Replied Bainbridge. “Only here its called Remos.”

     “It looks like a Bohemeian carnival in California.“ said Morris.

    Bainbridge laughed. “What did you expect?  White marble buildings and columns?  Hey, this is the way Rome really was.  Even the ancient Greeks weren’t much different. That white marble stuff was only a romantic notion based on looking at the bare ruins.  If you have ever studied archeology, you would know that they painted everything—even those beautiful white marble statues were painted up like plaster figurines given away at the amusement park.”

     “Why didn’t they call it “New Rome” then?”

     “I don’t know.  Remus was the brother of Romulus, whom Rome was named after.  I supposed that they wanted to be a bit more creative.”  Bainbridge replied.

     Portia led them to the Forum. Market stalls were everywhere, as were people.  The first priority was to obtain some real Remonian clothing.  That was a task more easily said than accomplished.  All they could find, for the most part, was fabric.  But after a few hours, they found the occasional robe, toga, tunic and purchased enough to clothe themselves and the others.  Some of the women’s garments would still have to be sewn, from fabric, by Portia herself.

    Morris now sported a military looking skirt made of leather strips, and metal rivets, that protected him down to his knees and a good heavy pair of leather sandals.  He toped his white tunic with a red toga that he draped across his right shoulder, so as not to interfere with the hilt of his sword that emerged above his left.

    Portia found a light blue dress and a darker blue hood.  Bainbridge, now looked the part of a merchant, with his long green robe and a white, “burnoose” style headdress that hid his head and looked less “foreign” than the turban.

    In addition to the clothing, They also purchased a sword and scabbard for Bainbridge, Doc and Marcus.  A man who did not wear a sword was looking for trouble in this world.

    Leslie was not forgotten.  She had lost her shives along with her clothing at Antonius’s camp.  Steel was hard to find, but Morris located a couple of square steel rods in a blacksmith shop.  They were each about three sixteenths of an inch on a side and less than a couple of feet long.  Yes, Leslie would have to sharpen them herself, and file the square corners off, but she needed something to do anyway, to keep herself “amused”.

     Later, that afternoon, Portia took the men to a street on the north side of the city.  All of the stores served hot food just like the “fast food” places used to do on Earth.  Bainbridge and Morris didn’t know how sanitary the shops were, but most of them looked reasonably clean.  And as most of the items were deep-fried, any bacteria they may have harbored would have been killed anyway. 

   The smells were mouth watering. There was fish, chicken, beef, pork and the meat of other animals prepared in various fashions.  There were also beans, vegetables, cheese and drinks, mostly wine, and bread available.

    Fortunately, Portia had convinced them to buy their own bowls, cups and utensils at the forum market.  They would not have to use the shops’s own tableware, which, more often than not, was not washed between customers.

     They washed down their supper of bread and fried chicken with red wine.  And then looked for a place to spend the night for the evening.  Again Portia was of some help.  She directed them to a “Mom and Pop” inn near the North gate of the city wall.  Morris and Bainbridge were surprised to find that not only did their beds have sheets, they were clean.  The fleas, however, took some getting used to.  Despite the insect problem, they all slept fitfully, and set out for the camp the next morning.

    As they walked out of the gate, a man on a horse, pushed by.  Morris looked up into the eyes of Antonius himself.

    “YOU!”  Antonius exclaimed as he immediately recognized Morris.  “Seize them!”

    Before Morris could react, several men appeared out of the surrounding crowd, seemingly out of nowhere, and grasped Morris and Bainbridge by the arms.  Portia was also held.

     Morris struggled, but two, perhaps three or more men had grasped him. He was taken to Antonius.  A bloodstained white bandage, wrapped around his thigh, was visible.

     “WHERE is the woman, the one who calls herself Leslie?” Antonius growled.

      “Sir!.” Bainbridge interrupted “He does not speak your tongue.”

       Bainbridge was then dragged to the side of Antonius’s horse, himself.

     “Then YOU tell me where the woman is.” The officer commanded.

    “But sir, did you not purchase her yourself?”

    “She escaped, killed several of my men and wounded me.  And YOU were reportedly seen near the camp with her.” Said Antonius as he pointed at Morris.

     “Now I ask you again, WHERE is she?”

     “I . . . I cannot tell you where she is.  I must show you.”

     “Then DO it.”

     “Uh . . . Sir, you DO know that she is very dangerous. Are you not afraid that she will kill you.  You and as many men that you may send after her?”

     The stern expression on Antonius’s face softened somewhat.  “Yes, I know that she could kill me, but she didn’t. I know that she only threw her lightning at those that she had to in order to escape.”

     “She showed ME her power too” Antonius continued. “so that she would not be forced to kill me, should I strike out at her out of my own ignorance.”

    “So you DO know she would not hesitate to kill you if she had to.” said Bainbridge.

    “Yes, but she will not have to.  Who is SHE?  Is she one of the goddesses come down to Earth, to deliver us from the demons?”

    Bainbridge looked at Morris and then turned back to Antonius. “Yes, you might could say that, but NO ONE is to know.  She has given myself and my companion the power to control the lightning ourselves and strike down anyone or any demon that may jeopardize her mission.”

     “I MUST see her!  Can you take me to her?”

     “Only if you come alone.” Said Bainbridge, translating Morris.

     Antonius waved his men away from Morris and Bainbridge and signaled them to release Portia.

    “Stay here. Remain silent.” He ordered his men.  “If I do not return before noon on the morrow, then you may look for me.”

    Leslie had been right about Antonius.  He was too frightened of her to even think of her as an enemy.  That she didn’t kill him when she had a chance, mutated that fear into a form of respect.  Antonius may indeed be useful, but how useful remained to be seen.

     Bainbridge and Morris led Antonius on his horse several miles down the road, before turning off into the forest.  Antonius was obviously in pain from his wound, but he did not complain about it. 

    Just short of the camp, Morris sent Portia ahead to tell Leslie that they were coming.  Their clothing was different now, and there was a horseman with them.  They were afraid that Leslie and Doc might shoot first and ask questions later.  They would at least give a woman a break.

    Portia took the bag containing the new clothes with her.  Leslie should greet Antonius more properly attired.

    Even so, Portia still found Leslie’s gun pointed at her as she entered the camp.  But Leslie put the weapon away when she recognized her friend.  Portia knew that Leslie could understand what she was saying, and briefed her on the situation.

    Leslie still could not speak Portia’s language, but she indicated that she understood and sent Portia back to Morris when she was ready.

     Leslie stood straight and regally on the other side of the fire, as Morris Bainbridge and Antonius approached.  She was now dressed in the new white gown that Portia had selected for her, along with a “golden” looking silk cloak draped across one shoulder. 

     Morris helped the man off of his horse.  He could barely walk.  Doc came up to Antonius and had him sit down in the grass.

     “But is it right to sit in the presence of a goddess?”  he asked.

     Leslie let Antonius think what ever he wished to think about her.  She said nothing, but continued to look into his eyes.  It had the desired effect.  The man began to tremble.

    Doc removed the bandage.  “Damn! The man is on the verge of getting blood poisoning.” He commented.  Doc then pulled out a leather bag and selected an injector.  He selected and placed three different capsules on the receptacle ports, and injected Antonus’s leg.

      “Fortunately it’s a through and through wound.  I’ve given him an anti-inflammatory agent, a pain suppressant and an antibiotic.  He should be fine in a few days.  In fact he should feel somewhat better immediately.”

     Antonius, to his delight, found that he could stand on his own two feet once again.  Surely these people were gods.

     Bainbridge translated for Leslie.

     “I apologize for inconveniencing you Antonius, and also for killing your friend, but I did only what I had to do while confined to this mortal body.”

    Awestruck, Antonius replied, “It is I who should be apologizing to YOU, great goddess, for treating you as a mere slave.  I am grateful that you have seen it fit to spare my life.  Can you forgive an ignorant fool such as myself?”

    “You are forgiven.  But now I need your help.  What are the demons doing to mankind.”

    “Until reciently, they have just demanded slaves, from time to time. Now they have demanded twenty virgins at every full moon. My brother has been ordered to provide at least one of the virgins to the Demons.  If we cannot find a slave to substitute for her he will be required to give up his own daughter.”

     “That’s odd.” Leslie remarked to Morris in English.  “What difference could it make to the REPS if their conversion specimens were virgins or not?”

     “I can’t see any kind of advantage virginity would have in a DNA conversion process myself.” Morris Replied. “But what else could it be?  What use is a virgin human female to a REP?  I can’t conceive of any kind of sexual attraction . . .”

      “Prostitutes?” Wondered Leslie aloud. “Wait a minute!”

     “Bainbridge! Translate for me.”

      “Antonius, do the Rep, er, DEMONS have any human friends?  Other than the temple priests?”

      “Yes, the black clothed men.”

       “Did the black clothed men ever help with the slaves?”

     “ No, they only help with the virgins.”

     “Son of a Bitch!---Don’t translate that Bainbridge!” Said Leslie.

     “What are you getting at Webber?” asked Morris.

     “That’s IT!” Leslie replied. “Virgin slave prostitutes.  That’s what the syndicate is being paid for the jump technology.”

     Morris looked puzzled.  “What? Why deal with the REPs?  Virgins slaves could be found in several places in Terran space.”

     “Yes, but as you know every birth in Terran controlled space is registered and a DNA sample is logged in the central data base.  This planet is NOT in Terran controlled space, not yet anyway.  Indeed, save for a few Syndicate operatives, WE are the only Terrans that know that this planet exists.”

    “The girls would have NO DNA records on file in any of the Terran databases.” Leslie continued.  “As far as the law or any legal matter is concerned, they would not exist.  They would be non-entities in the Terran zone.  They would be totally untraceable. Their value to various criminal enterprises would be incalculable.”

     “So they WOULD be a suitable currency after all.” Morris remarked. “One only the REPs could provide, in exchange for something only the Terrans could provide to the REPS.”

     “You got it.  Now we need to see who is behind this operation and close them down.”

     “But you said so, yourself, the Syndicate.”

     “The Syndicate is not one monolithic unit, Morris.  It is a loose association of various criminal groups, presided over by a board.  At this moment the chairman’s position has been, shall we say, ‘vacated’ and several individuals are at present vying for the job.  I dare say that this little operation is one individual’s attempt to make a lot of money fast and in effect, BUY the chairmanship outright or hire the help or the ‘muscle’ he needs to install himself into the position on his own.”

    “So what’s next, sheriff?”

    “I propose that we send someone undercover amidst the virgin shipment and find out who the Syndicate Connection is.  Then we can close him down, get this planet under protection of the Terran Confederation, and put the REPS out of the Jump Tech business.”

     “Who are you going to send undercover, Captain?  No offence intended, but I would venture to guess that we have NO virgins on our ship.  And you KNOW that any candidates WILL be examined, just to make sure.”

     “Doc,” Leslie asked, “Can you do a hymeneal reconstruction?”

     “You aren’t serious!” Morris replied.

     “Yes I am.  Both Melissa and myself are young and attractive looking enough to be considered as ‘currency’.  With Antonius’s help, I am sure that we could be selected as part of the shipment."

      “What about it, Doc?”

      “. . . Uh.  I can do it.”

     “But what if you are wrong?” asked Morris.  “What if the virgins are all slated for conversion.  How would YOU like being a Half Mute?”

     “You, with the help of Zee, will be tracking us.  If anything seems to go wrong, I trust that you could attempt a rescue.”

     “Yes, I could, but what about reporting this planet to the Terran Confederation?”

     “Assuming everything else goes all right, don’t report it until I identify the Syndicate operative who is running the operation.”

     Leslie once again turned to Antonius.  Bainbridge translated.

       “If you agree to help me, I will save your neice from the demons.”

     “Yes! Yes!”  Said Antonius “I will help you in any way I can.  What do you need me to do for you?”

     “Can you use your influence to get me and my companion included into the group of virgins?”

       “Perhaps.  My brother has been ordered to provide at least one of the virgins to the Demons. Two would be better as some other father would also be spared his daughter.”

     “When are the virgins to be delivered?”

     “Twelve days from now.  But they must be from legitimate sources, either our own daughters or certified slaves.  The Emperor has directed these conditions so that women will not be kidnapped from the streets.”

     “Is your brother old enough so that I could pass for his daughter?”

     “Alas, no.  He is not yet forty years of age.  You would have to pose as a slave.  But my brother would need a bill of sale from a dealer.”

     “Would such a bill from “Saleem”, here be sufficient?”

     “Yes, but Saleem would also need a good reference.  I shall provide it.”

     “I will meet you here in eleven days.” said Leslie.  “Bring your brother. “The Demons have ears. Tell him nothing of me and nothing of our plan.  Order you men to be silent concerning anything concerning me or the most unfortunate incident of yesterday.”

     Antonius agreed, but word of the carnage at the soldier’s camp was already circulating from reports of the previous day.  Fortunately, neither Leslie nor a weapon had been mentioned in the stories.  Antonius would try to take the “edge” of the rumors by spreading word that it was the unfortunate result of an exploding vessel left on a fire.

***************

     A day later found Leslie and the rest of the crew back aboard the Retribution.  Melissa was told of the plan and had agreed to accompany Leslie on her mission.  To Leslie’s surprise, Melissa revealed that she did not NEED a hymeneal reconstruction. Even at thirty years of age, SHE was still the genuine article.

     Were it not for the rape, soon after her change, Leslie would have been a “virgin” herself, technically at least, after the DNA reconstruction.

     Leslie asked Doc to give her a general anesthetic, rather than a local, prior to the necessary operation, for psychological reasons.  Leslie still considered such work “down there” as being VERY humiliating. The operation went well and Doc assured her that she would be completely healed in a few days.

      With the help of Bainbridge, Marcus and Portia, both Melissa and Leslie began a crash course in learning the Remonian language.  They would not be experts, by any means, in just ten days, but they would be able to answer simple questions and speak necessary phrases.  Having the ability to understand the language, courtesy of the translator implants, would be a BIG help.  After learning these basics, they would be able to soon learn the rest of the language, rapidly on their own.

     There was but one more detail to attend to.  Doc spread a clear liquid on the right shoulders of both Leslie and Melissa.

     “This is a cyano acrylate based plastic paste” he explained.  “It will protect you skin where we apply the brand.  Only the surface of the plastic will be scorched, the “brand” will adhere to the skin for about two months.  It will look just like the real thing.” 

*************

     The morning of the appointed day Leslie, Melissa, Portia, Marcus, Pyramus Morris and Bainbridge were waiting at the agreed meeting camp in the woods.

     Two horsemen appeared, One Leslie recognized as Antonius, The other, she did not recognize.  Behind them, they led a string of three more horses.

     Antonius introduced the group to Neronus, his brother.

Antonius had kept his word.  Neronus was completely in the dark as to who Leslie was and what was going on.

     “This is Saleem” said Antonius, as he introduced his brother to Bainbridge.  “He has agreed to sell me two virgin slaves.  Lucilla will be spared.”

     Neronus was overjoyed.  “Thank you brother!  Thank you!”  He said tearfully.  “How can I ever repay you?”

     “I purchased both for twenty Denari.”

     “I shall repay you tenfold dear brother”

      “That is not necessary, Neronus, after all, Lucilla is MY neice.”

     This time Bainbridge did all of the talking.  There was no sense in letting Neronus in on the plot.  The fewer other people knew, the better.

     “Have you the proper papers?” asked Bainbridge

     “Right here Saleem.  I am transferring my ownership of the slave known as Leslie and the other one to my brother.”

     “That’s MELISSA.” said Bainbridge. “Here, I affix my signature.   But there is one more item of business I must discuss with you.”

     “What is that?”

      “The lady that makes this all possible has but one more request. You are to arrange the proper documentation to secure the free status of Marcus, Portia and the boy Pyramus.”

     “I will be glad to do that Saleem.  And convey once again my thanks to the lady.  Neronus has invited all of us to his home, so that we may prepare Leslie and Melissa for their appointment in the temple, tomorrow.”

*************

  

     Although Neronus was not “rich” he was not a poor man either.  He had a fine house in the countryside, not a mile from the walls of Remos itself.  It resembled very closely the houses of Pompey, with the atrium and the enclosed garden.

    

     Saleem and Morris were treated as the “guests of honor” and were treated to a evening meal in the “triclinum” area while Leslie and the other “slaves” took their meals in the rooms assigned to them.

    The next day, the “virgins”, Leslie especially, had to be specially “groomed” to appear as a Remonian women.  Something also had to be done to make her less “recognizable”.  Everyone of any consequence, in the Syndicate knew all too well what Leslie looked like.  Fortunately, Leslie was one of those women who had features that were very versatile and could support a variety of “looks”. Just a little paint and a different hairstyle could change her appearance drastically.

    Leslie’s hair was pulled into a “ponytail” and secured on the crown of her head.  Her lips were painted a deep red, and slightly fuller.  The effect was quite stunning, she looked almost like a different person.----Yes, the “Leslie” resemblance was still somewhat evident, but, considering the planet where she was coming from and the fact that she was a ‘certified virgin’ should allay any possible suspicions of any Syndicate personnel.

     Melissa was less a problem.  Her face was less well known.  A hair extension, in the form of a braid originating at the top of her head, was sufficient to give her the proper look.

     At sundown, the party delivered Leslie and Melissa to the temple.  The structure was quite impressive.  It was located on one of the highest hills in the city.  The “Temple of the Demons” looked very similar to the Parthenon and was located across the street from the very similar appearing “Temple of Zeupater”, the Remonian chief god.

     To the trained eyes of Morris and Leslie, the walled enclosure to the rear of the building was obviously the landing pad area where the REP transport shuttle could be landed and would remain hidden from the eyes of the local populace.

     The other eighteen or so women had, by now, also been delivered.  Neronus and Antonius took Leslie and Melissa to the Chief priest.  Bainbridge accompanied them, so that he could attest to the authenticity of the paperwork.  Morris came along just to be available in the event of trouble.

     Leslie and her people immediately noticed the man standing in the rear of the reception area.  The black leather vest, boots and facial hair immediately identified him as a “Syndicate man”.  In a way, it was a relief. Not only had she guessed right as to who the slaves were for, she now felt sure that she was not going to be delivered to the REPS for conversion.

     The Virgins were then directed into a rear room.  She and Melissa were now on their on.  One by one, they were ordered to sit in a carved stone chair, where they were poked, prodded and otherwise examined in the crotch area by two old ladies.  One girl didn’t pass the “test” and was sent to another room.  Leslie thought that she caught a glimpse of a “Half Mute” through the half open door as the unfortunate girl was escorted through it. Fortunately, there were a few extra girls available for just such a contingency.

     To Leslies relief, she passed the test with no trouble, as did Melissa.  They were then herded into yet another room with the other girls that “passed”.  Here the “Syndicate man” whom, from overhearing conversation, Leslie concluded was named “Guiley”, looked them over.  He appeared quite pleased. 

There was a nervous moment, however, when he approached Leslie.  “What is your name girl?” he asked in Remonian.      “Lucilla, master” Leslie replied, using the first name that came to her head.      “You have a very interesting face.” The man remarked.  “No, that’s impossible” he muttered to himself in English and as he shook his head and suppressed a laugh.      “Yes, I will have some fun with you.”       “Yes, you are to be commended” Guiley told the priest in the Remonian language. “These are excellent specimens.  I trust that you will bring us twenty more by the next full moon.”

     From Leslie’s calculations, the full moon occurred every TWO months on this planet. By then, one way or another, she should have this operation “rolled up”.  The priest needn’t bother.

     The women were then herded out one of the back doors. They were now within the walled enclosure behind the temple.  A dirty looking brown, rectilinear craft, not unlike the one Leslie and Morris rescued The human slaves from, stood on four retractable legs on the paved area.

    A metal stairway led to a door on the side of the vessel.  A human woman, likely another Syndicate operative, directed the women, one by one through the opening.  Guiley urged the women in the back of the line onward.  He was the last to board.

     To Leslie’s surprise the interior of the ship was brightly illuminated.  Another surprise was that the room that the women were ushered into was actually quite clean.

      All twenty of the women were directed to sit on a bench that ran along the longest wall.  The woman that Leslie had seen by the door, buckled a seat belt across the lap of each of them.  The lady appeared to have a good command of the Remonian language.  From her actions, she appeared to be both interpreter and comforter for those put in her charge.

     After everyone was strapped in and calmed down, she and Guiley ensconced themselves in chairs on the other side of the room.  Leslie was sure to act frightened and confused.  Guiley had already noticed her “resemblance” to herself, but apparently was convinced that “Lucilla’s” appearance was only a coincidence.  There was no reason to make him suspect otherwise.

    The door to the room opened once again.  A Half Mute stepped through.  The women began to scream hysterically, a couple of them passed out.  Leslie screamed as loudly as any of the others and Melissa also was able to turn in a suitable performance.  The “interpreter woman” had her hands full, quieting the terrified girls down.

    Apparently, The Half Mute had something to discuss with Guiley.  Leslie couldn’t hear what it was, as a few of  the other women still were vocalizing their fears, but it looked routine.  Apparently the half mute’s masters were just checking to see if Guiley and his cargo was settled in and ready to go.

     The half mute soon left the room and Leslie felt the ship slowly lift off.  Where they were going and what they would do when they got there, was a big mystery for now.

     With no streetlights, or any other efficient outdoor lighting, The darkness provided an excellent cover for the lift off of the REP ship from the courtyard.

      Morris and Bainbridge spent the night at Neronus’s house and rode two of his horses back to the mountain the next day.  Now they had to wait.  The Rep ship might take a month , perhaps two, to get to wherever it was going. It would not be wise to stay on the planet, and risk detection, that long, so Morris decided to take the ship back into Terran controlled space in the interim.  Zee would check on Leslie’s position and condition twice a day.  So long as they stayed within seven parsecs of the REP ship they should be able to rescue Leslie or Melissa should the need arise.

Continued in Part 5 SOON !