The Bodyguard

"Better?"

"Much. You're far prettier than I was lead to believe."

"No one looks good in ID pictures."

"True enough. So, can I take it your interested?"

"I'd like to see the world from a viewpoint other than looking up. I'd like to eat real food, drink real liquor and wear fancy clothes, so yeah, I'm interested. But you still haven't answered my question. Why me?"

"There were twenty-five people on that pad charged with guarding my daughter's life. Ten of the best bodyguards to be had, a ten man navy detachment, and five super heavy combat guards. And they're all dead. And my daughter would be too, if there hadn't been one Imperial Marine on hand."

"I got lucky."

"In my line of work, I don't believe in luck."

"Fair enough."

"So where to begin."

"Why are you evening making a pitch? If you own my contract?" she asked.

He laughed then. A rich, mellow sound, so unlike the false joviality she was used to from corporate types.

"I wish I could just do that. I almost wish I was low class enough to let you believe I could. But, I'm not," he said, taking out a folded piece of paper and placing it on her desk.

"Your contract is my thanks to you, if you take the job or not."

"So, I'm like, not a Marine anymore?"

"Technically no. You can reup of course and be serving on two contracts at once. Drawing double benefits and double pension, if that's what you choose to do. I'm hoping you'll come to work for me though."

"What's it pay?"

"Forty thousand creds a standard year."

"Hell, I make fifty in the corps."

"No, you make fifty every service year. That's every 365 standard days out of stasis. I'll pay your forty for every standard year, regardless of your status and I'll even guarantee at least 100 years to every service year you put in."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Jala means that much to me and infinitely more," he said quietly.

"Jala's your daughter?"

"One of them," he said, his face taking on a softer, far away look that seemed incongruous to that of the sharp, business tycoon.

"I have ten kids. Nine married off to suitably rich spouses. They all expect to inherit part of Adlewiess, but they aren't going to. I'm leaving my entire controlling share to Jala."

When Sotina didn't say anything the old man shook himself and smiled.

"This isn't like any interview I have ever conducted. You aren't like anyone I've ever tried to hire. You aren't even trying to impress me. And you haven't once attempted to kiss my ass. I find it appealing."

"I am who I am. No excuses."

"Quite. I built this company into the biggest mining concern in the Authority. Starting with one failing mine on Henshaw-6-9. Part of my success was in marrying the daughter of a shipping magnate. She bore me ten children, and we were comfortable, but she was born to money and raised our children in that same arrogance. Only Jala rebelled. Putting herself though school and earning her citizenship with a stint in the pioneers. She hated my wife and her siblings and we were estranged until Margiella passed some decades back."

"She hardly looks eighteen."

"And how old do I look?"

"Mid fifties," she said with a shrug.

"Try two thousand and fifty, you'd be closer."

"Spacer?"

"Not as such, but I traveled extensively to keep up with and on top of my concerns."

"And her?"

"She travels now. My personal troubleshooter. She's twenty–three now, in standard years, but she was born over nine hundred years ago, on old earth."

"Older than me."

"Quite a bit older, but age no longer imparts experience as you are well aware and while competent in the extreme, she is still rather naïve."

"Who's trying to frag her?"

"You are, I assume familiar with the free worlders?"

"Yeah. Separatists, but they aren't generally violent."

"No, but there has been a disturbing trend lately. Splinter groups who have lost patience with peaceful means."

"What would they hope to gain by acing your daughter?"

"Apparently, they would prefer to see Adlewiess broken up into many smaller, less powerful concerns. And it's just as apparent they have seen my will. I had the lawyer who drew it up killed for his carelessness, but that does nothing to protect Jala."

"And you think I can stop them?"

"I think no such thing. I think you can provide her with the best protection I can offer, while other agents work on eliminating the particular cell."

"Fair enough. 40,000 a year. What about equipment?"

"I've had a suit of Mk II combat armor commissioned for you, in black of course to differentiate you from a marine. And I've ordered a mk 7100 assault cannon, as well as smaller arms. I have tailors ready to put together a less intimidating wardrobe and a full line of more...concealable weapons. I've also arranged for you to keep your bio-enhancements."

"Deal."

"Welcome aboard....what should I call you?"

"Gunny is fine."

Sotina stepped off the small transport and waited for someone to claim her. Most of the people were employees of Adlewiess and wore standard business attire. Sotina wore an olive drab jumper. She hadn't owned civvies in a long, long time and had seen no reason to spend on them when she had no idea what was expected of her.

She was still standing there when all the others had gone. A small man in a business suit approached her hesitantly.

"Are you...Gunny?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting..."

"No sweat."

Sotina could tell by his slightly disapproving look that her earthy vocabulary wouldn't go down too well around here. Not that she gave a shit. But it was something to remember. They took a lift up about ten thousand stories. Since she was still breathing easily, she figured the whole building must be pressurized. That was how it went on old Earth, there just wasn't enough space so everything went up and up and up.

When the lift finally stopped and the doors open, the small man led her to an office and quietly bowed her in.

"Glad to see you made it all right, gunny."

"Thank you sir."

"Jala is in her apartments, waiting to meet you. She'll take you down to security and get you into the system and then shopping. I hope you ate well, shopping with my daughter requires the stamina of ten men," Max said with a good natured smile.

"I'm not armed," Sotina pointed out.

"Oh, of course," he replied, hitting a button on his desk.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked, moving to a wet bar.

"Bourbon, neat," she replied.

He made drinks and handed her one. Sotina nearly spit it out when it first hit her tongue. It was real. Real bourbon. Not synthetic. She took another swallow and savored it. She was already liking this new gig a hell of a lot better than Dukenau.

He was explaining some of the pictures on his wall when a small, ferret like man entered.

"Ah, gunny, this is Richard Freely, head of security."

"Pleased to meet you," he said, extending his hand.

"Likewise," she replied shaking.

"Max wasn't sure what you favored as a personal sidearm, so I took a stab in the dark and figured you for a big hit kind of woman," he said opening his briefcase.

Inside was an Ingram Arms Co. M-257 12mm automatic. In matte black carbon composite with a shoulder rig.

"That's me," she replied, unzipping her jumper and strapping on the shoulder rig.

"That's a special order, made just for our security corps. It has integrated thermal sights, and a built in silencer, you can activate with a touch of a button."

"I didn't think you could silence one of these babies."

"You can do anything for a price. We were willing to pay Ingram to develop the technology."

Sotina racked the slide, to find it already had one in the chamber. She picked it up, dropped the mag and added it to the top, noting the rounds had color coded tips.

"Colors?"

"Red's Armor piercing. Black has a fast acting neurotoxin, Yellow's incendiary."

"Stagger load?" she asked snapping the weapon from its holster several times.

"That mag is. You have three on the shoulder rig that are solid. Never know what you'll meet, but once you do, I expect you'll prefer to choose the correct munition for the job," he said.

He seemed very pleased with her familiarity and her questions. He nodded slightly to Max, which she didn't fail to notice.

"Do I have any hollow points?"

"No. We haven't found much use for them in our security work."

"Get me a box. Preferably Winchester Isometrics, if you can afford them."

"May I ask why? Our research is very through on the best rounds to stock."

"These aren't high tech assassins Mr. Freely. They're suicide jockeys. None of those on Dukenau had even basic armor. It seems to me the greatest threat isn't an armored pen team, but a lone nut dressed to mix with the population just stepping up and shooting her with an old-fashioned slug thrower. An Ap would go right through him at close range. Same with the NT rounds and even the incendiaries. First round needs to be something that'll waste a man at point blank. Nothing is as good for that kind of wetwork as Winchester Isos."

"I'll have you a box within the hour," he said, obviously very impressed.

"Thanks," she replied, zipping her coverall back up.

When he left Max smiled at her.

"Well, you passed the easy part," he said.

"Impressing your weapons man was the easy part?"

"Yep. Shopping with my daughter will kill you or make you stronger," he said with a genuine laugh as he refreshed her drink.

The lift stopped at 11005 and Max pressed a button.

"Well, here we are. This is Jala's floor."

"She has her own floor?"

Max laughed and gently clapped her on the shoulder.

"Stop thinking marine gunny. This is big money, high society. All of my execs live in the building and the VP's have entire floors for private quarters. Jala's have their own turbolift from the ground floor, so she can entertain...guests, without her old man knowing."

"That doesn't sound very secure."

"So I've tried to tell her. But it's either that or she moves into her own place. Frankly, she goes out of her way to be discreet, but I've known for a long time. Still, I'm giving away more than is my place. I'm sure she'll explain. Have a care gunny. She's never had such close security and she's very independent."

"I won't cramp her style if I can help it."

"I know you won't."

Sotina stepped through the open doors into an open airy room with a stunning view through the floor to ceiling glass panes. The room was set up like an oriental prayer garden, with pools and bonsai trees. Standing at the windows, in a wispy red dress was a lone figure with her back to the lift.

"Welcome to my domain," she said softly, without turning around.

"Thanks."

She turned suddenly and approached Sotina, curiosity written on her pretty features.

"You aren't quite what I expected," she said with a smile.

"Too short?" Sotina said with a grin.

They both laughed and she felt the tension between them drain away. Jala showed her into another room, with comfortable chairs and a bar. Once they both had drinks and were seated the pretty girl started to speak.

"I thought you were a guy," she said.

"You seem disappointed?"

"No and yes. You're going to be living here and basically with me all the time, so you might as well know, I'm a lesbian and I'm a top. When not at work or entertaining business clients, I dress and act very butch. So I'm pleased to see you're a woman on one level, but I'm not thrilled with the idea of trying to compete with you when I have women over."

"Well damn."

"Now you seem surprised," she said with a smile.

"Yeah, that's a mind fuck and no question about it."

"I like mind fucks," she said with a toothy grin.

"I haven't been fucked in so long I don't even remember what kind I like."

"Well, we're going to have to fluff you up. I have fuck all chance of looking butch next to you otherwise."

"Fluff me up?"

"Yes, do you object?"

"I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Good, then you won't have any objections," Jala said with another of those brilliant smiles.

Their first stop was a salon. Jala watched as Sotina's long hair was shampooed, shaped and styled. Next came a facial, manicure, pedicure, bikini waxing, and what seemed to be hours while a "color consultant" and Jala picked makeup and perfumes, shampoos, gels, sprays and more. The girls were all intimidated by the pistol she refused to remove, but after a while they chatted about things she had no inkling of.

From there, the chauffer driven limo took them to a very exclusive high end lingerie shop. If the salon had her impatient, this stop had her blushing like mad.

"You don't look so tough now," Jala teased as they entered.

"Is this really necessary?"

"You're going to be with me 24/7, that means everything from corporate board meetings to tea parties. And you're going to have to look as unobtrusive as possible."

"How does anyone look unobtrusive in this shit?"

Jala laughed and steered her towards the counter.

"You can't wear skivvies with a dress."

"May I help you?" the girl at the counter asked, coming around to their side.

"Yes. My friend here has just completed her time and has nothing to wear."

She looked at Sotina dubiously and the Ex-marine wondered if she was running a mental credit check on her.

"Well, I'm sure we can..."

Her voice trailed off when Jala placed the glossy black cred stick on the counter. Even Sotina was impressed. A black stick had no limit, no number attached to it. It was basically infinite and therefore drawing from an account that had creds enough to buy planets.

"What exactly is she looking for?" the girl said, addressing Jala like Sotina wasn't even there.

"The whole smash," Jala said.

Suddenly Sotina was surrounded by no less than five perky salesgirls, armed with measuring tapes and clipboards. They basically gave her an examination the Corps. Medical staff would have been envious of. They didn't even balk when they saw her piece, but insisted she remove it. Sotina finally agreed to remove the rig, but she held the pistol in her hand while they measured everything they could find.

Hips, waist, bust, boobs, inseam, outseam, arms, wrists, ankles, feet, distance from boobs to hip, from shoulder to knee, she felt like a damn specimen in a lab before they finally put the tape measures away.

She thought eight hitches in the imperial Marines had removed every bit of self-consciousness she possessed. She could strip naked in front of a squad of men and not feel a thing. So she was surprised when she stepped into the first pair of panties a girl handed her that she blushed. Jala was watching with an expression that was partly amused and partly intrigued. It only got worse as they moved to thongs, bras, nighties, camisoles, corselets, stockings, garter belts. By the time it was over Sotina felt sure she would never blush again. She refused the offer to wear something nice home and slipped back into her skivvies, t-shirt and jumper as the girls bagged up a truckload of things and Jala paid for it all.

And then it was shoes, then dresses, skirts, tops, boots, blouses, accessories and on and on and on. By the time they finally returned to Adlewiess tower, she was beginning to think maybe the Marines hadn't been so bad after all. It took the servants three trips to bring everything up and she found herself sitting on the big bed in her room, staring at a mountain of boxes.

Jala came in and handed her a drink, which she gratefully accepted.

"Tired?"

"Yeah. I'm glad that's over."

"It's far from over babe. Tomorrow I'm taking you to Genesis to get some custom made stuff."

Sotina groaned and took another gulp of her drink.

Genesis turned out to be the civilian branch of TacCo, the same company that produced the combat armor Imperial Marines wore. She was fitted for several business suits, dresses, and pants suits, all with ceramite plate inlays and made from ballistic Kevlar weave. The only embarrassing moment here was when they rolled out a set of five corsets, all beautifully made and sporting garters and delicate lace.

"What the hell? Bulletproof undies?"

"Yes. There are times you'll want to wear regular garments, these will provide protection to your torso in those situations where your outerwear has to be normal."

"Well, if you say so," she replied dubiously.

It had taken four months for Sotina to learn how to be a woman again. She did her own makeup now and moved as efficiently in the five inch heels Jala preferred on her as she did in her combat boots. She almost always deferred to her charge when it came to what she wore, refusing only the suggestion she carry a smaller weapon so it wouldn't ruin the line of her dresses. Her lingerie was as frilly as a French whore's, but she secretly had come to love the way it made her feel. The soft materials and their sensuous caress made her feel sexy and alive. The delicate garments made her feel less like an oaf, more graceful, elegant, and even sexy.

She had turned down several invitations for dinner, from execs and the other bodyguards. Nothing had happened since she arrived and every day without an attempt on Jala's life, Sotina became more watchful and worried.

They were scheduled to head out to TransusIV tomorrow and Jala was holding an impromptu going away party in her rooms. Waiters mixed with the men and women in formal attire. Jala was at her butch best, in a pair of leather pants and a leather vest. Most of the women were with escorts, but a few were there trying to catch Jala's eye and Sotina knew one or more would probably be spending the night with her charge.

Her feelings on that were rather confused and she didn't want to dwell on it too much. Her eyes went back to Jala and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a waiter moving towards her. He was carrying the tray awkwardly, using both hands and Sotina felt her hand going for her piece well before her conscious mind could comprehend he was carrying a weapon in his hand beneath the tray.

People screamed when the heavy automatic appeared in Sotina's hand. They were still frozen when the big automatic snorted and the 12mm Iso round covered the distance between her and the assassin. It was deforming before it left the barrel and was the size of a dinner plate when it hit him, the exit wound sprayed guests in blood and innards.

His gun, a hand held short-barreled shotgun turned a pretty deb's chest into hamburger as it reflexively went off. Sotina was moving, even as men and women were diving for cover. A second waiter was drawing a weapon from the back of his pants when her shoulder connected with his sternum and sent him crashing through the delicate Japanese screen he had stepped from behind. A hollow point followed him, splattering the deep carpet with brains and blood.

Sotina turned and with a three-step run, executed a diving tackle, dragging Jala down to the carpet as the guy at the food cart pulled out a 20MM auto shotgun and opened up, indiscriminately blasting startled party goers. She felt shot rip through her delicate dress, but the plates in the corset stopped them cold. The lights failed before she could locate the gunner or the other two waiters.

Sotina scrambled up and hauled Jala to her feet. She dragged the terrified girl across the room and threw her into the personal protection pod behind another screen. Once it cycled shut, she waited.

People were crying, groaning and trying to find a way out. Another blast from the shotgun sent a crouched figure to the carpet. Sotina clipped three probing rounds towards the muzzle flash and was rewarded with a grunt and the sound of a body hitting the floor.