After dinner, Antoinette stretched. “I would like to go for a swim, and then go to bed.” Tracker and Red walked beside her.
Dim lighting came from lamp-posts placed throughout the evening-darkened Plaza. She stripped, then removed the clip from her hair and shook her long, flowing ponytail free. She arched her back and stretched. Red sat down, openly admiring her naked form. She smiled, savoring his enjoyment. Outgoing and extroverted, she was proud of her body and loved to be admired. That was one of the main reasons she was a dancer. She stretched again, then turned and dove into the water. Tracker’s tail moved almost imperceptibly as he lay on his side in another lounge chair and watched her.
Walter came over as well and sat down, watching as she sported in the water. She broke surface and rolled over, floating easily as she sucked in air. “You swim well and you’re quite lovely” he said to her.
She smiled. “I am glad you like watching me,” she said. She sucked in another lungful of air, then twisted and dove, her form taking on the aspect of a mermaid in the subdued light.
Tracker and Red both arrived to take her to breakfast the next morning. She wore a loose, dark grey blouse and a charcoal grey skirt. While the clothing she’d worn previously showed some wrinkling from their storage in the duffle bag, these were pressed and smooth, giving her an almost professional appearance. Red whistled as he studied her. “I just can’t believe how good you look! Every time I see you, I’m dazzled all over again!”
She laughed and blushed with pleasure, then took his hand. She took Tracker’s in her other hand and started for the dining area. Tracker couldn’t believe that she still wanted to hold his hand, despite Red’s courting her. If it hadn’t been for her attentions to him, he would have left her to Red already.
They are so different from the ones at the Snake base, she thought as she glanced up at them fondly. The fear and the pain came flooding back for an instant, and she shivered. Tracker glanced at her sharply. “What’s wrong, Antoinette?”
She smiled at the concern in his voice. “Nothing. Just a memory that I have not yet laid to rest.”
At the Mentalists, they waited while she went in. After a moment, she returned. “Every day now, I am to work with them from seven-thirty until eleven o’clock. Then I may go to lunch. After lunch, I go back to the Mentalists from one until three, then to the Training Room to work out until five. After that, I am free until the next day.”
Leaving her at the Mentalists, Tracker went to the Quartermaster’s office. “Has anyone bought a guitar recently?” he asked McCall, who was seated behind the counter reading a magazine.
”Nope. No one’s ordered any guitars since Scott Nolan bought that fancy thing of his a couple months back.”
Tracker hesitated a moment, unsure of himself. “Well…, I want to buy a guitar for someone and I don’t really know anything about them. Would you help me?”
“Sure,” McCall replied. “Electric or Acoustic?”
Tracker stood there for a moment with a blank stare on his face. Before he could respond, McCall continued. “I see. Here, let me pull up a couple catalogs and you point out the style you want.” He turned his display so both he and Tracker could view it and keyed in some queries. Tracker immediately pointed to a guitar that looked something like Antoinette’s broken one.
“Ah!,” McCall exclaimed. “An acoustic guitar.” He keyed a new query and a large number of acoustic guitars by different manufacturers and styles appeared. “You said this was for someone else,” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Do they know how to play?”
“I think so. The one she has was broken and it seems to have meant a lot to her.”
“I see. Based on that I’d guess she was pretty good with it. That means you want to get her a better quality model.” McCall keyed in a different search, eliminating most of the ones on the screen and bringing up several more whose craftsmanship was clearly superior. Tracker studied those and McCall continued to modify the search until the fox pointed to one made of dark wood with pale highlights.
“Obviously I don’t have one of those in stock,” McCall told him, “but I think I can get it in within two days. That soon enough?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Anytime, Tracker. Come back more often. I don’t get to see you as much as I’d like.”
“Um…, sure,” he responded, ears sagging slightly as he turned away.
After lunch, Tracker and Antoinette wandered slowly across the Plaza. A splash of brilliant color in a small alcove caught her eye.
”What is this?” she asked, turning aside to investigate it. As she approached it, her eyes widened. “Tracker! It is beautiful! What is it?” She had stopped in front of a sculpture made of traceries of light. “It is a reef. An ocean reef, with fish!” A grouper swam slowly into view, circling the reef. Smaller fish darted away.
”Lisa made it, Lisa Worthington.” Tracker said. “She’s an artist; an EP who sculpts with light. The mentalists say that she is somehow creating holograms out of thin air but their analyses can’t determine how she does it. Most of her work is static, but she’s made a few with motion. She says that motion is harder to do, which is why you don’t see more. If you like, we can go to the Gallery sometime. She’s done all the light sculptures in there.”
”Does she live here?”
”Yes. Somewhere on second level, I believe.”
Antoinette spent several minutes in rapt silence, studying the sculpture from all angles. Then she turned away and held out her hand to Tracker. “If you see her when I am with you, introduce us, Tracker.” He nodded and they wandered on.
They sat in friendly silence at the foot of the garden next to the pool and watched people coming and going.
”Tracker,” she asked suddenly, “why do you wear the sword, instead of a pistol? Would not the pistol be better against foes?”
Tracker shrugged. “The sword is the traditional weapon of the Valani male, and is what I was trained with, though I was trained on firearms as well. Also, for close-in fighting, the sword is much better than a pistol and with my speed, I can get in close.” He thought for a moment and added, “Still, I could have used a ranged weapon against Pneumata and Lumen the day we fought them off of you. I’ll go to Magnum and see what he says.” She nodded.
Red crossed the Plaza and Antoinette waved. “Red! ‘allo.” He waved back and came over. Tracker’s ears drooped.
”Hi, pretty lady,” Red said as he sat down on the foot of her lounge chair. “So, what have you been doing?”
”The mentalists have finished testing me, though they still want me to come in weekly. They have told me what my abilities are, and have started to show me how to control the tigresse. The tigresse, she has a strong will. They said when I am her, my human mind is buried under that of the tigresse, which is why I do not have control of her.”
She stopped as she saw Magnum step out of the elevator, escorting another fox-man. The fox-man stalked along, valtan swinging at his side, wary and inspecting everything. As if he means to buy the base, she thought. He came up to Tracker and spoke to him in a strange tongue. Tracker answered in kind. The other gave a curt nod and stalked off.
”What did he want?” she asked Tracker.
He shrugged. “He asked me if I wanted to come with him, and I said no.”
”Who is he?” she asked.
”His name is Shal-ir. He is the consort to the Clan Mother of the exiled Valani ruling clan.”
”Ah, that is right. Scott told me about him when we were driving to the base.”
As she came out of the Mentalist section that afternoon, Red stepped up. He smiled and held out his hand. “Hi, pretty lady.”
She smiled back and took his hand. “‘allo, Red. How are you?”
”Just fine, now that I’m with you.”
She laughed. Tracker hung back with a pang of loss. I am glad for her, he thought. I like Red. It will be good for her to be mated with him. At least with him I’ll be able to keep seeing her.
”Where is Tracker,” she asked, trying to peer around Red. She spied him and smiled. “‘allo, Tracker.”
”Hello,” he said.
She frowned slightly. “What is wrong?”
”Nothing.”
”Then come here,” she demanded and held out her hand. After a moment, he took it.
At the Training Room, the operator, Frank Austin, glanced at Red and frowned. “Something wrong?” he asked. “You just left a few minutes ago.”
”Nope,” said Red. “Just escorting Miss Duval around.”
Frank nodded, then turned to Antoinette and explained her task. She listened silently.
“Basically today is just another examination for you. The purpose is to evaluate your strength, agility and endurance.” He continued, detailing what she would be facing.
”So, I am to go through the, ah, the obstacle course, as many times as I can, for the two hours, and I must stay on the yellow path. Oui?”
He nodded. “That’s right. We’ll time each run and let you see how you’re doing. The clock starts when you leave the launch point. Any questions?”
”Non.”
Red winked. “I’ll be up in the control room so I can watch you. Have fun.” He turned and climbed the stairs to the control room. Tracker followed him.
Frank glanced at Tracker in surprise since he never before watched others’ training sessions.
She entered the Training Room and eyed the obstacle course. She took a deep breath, planning her first move. She started to run, but hesitated at each obstacle. At the rope swing, she stopped, reached out and grabbed the rope, then swung across. She clambered through the rope net, jumped over each of a series of waist-high hurdles, crawled under a fence and climbed over a wall just beyond. She ran off the end of the path where it came to an abrupt stop and had to back up. A board lay beside the path, bathed in yellow light. Beyond the board lay four islands of yellow, eight feet apart, before the path resumed as a solid line. At last she reached the finish, back at the launch point. She stopped and looked up at the control room window. Her loose clothing was hung in disarray on her body.
”Thirteen minutes, forty-one seconds,” Frank said over the speaker.
She frowned and shook her head. “That is too slow. I can do better.” She hesitated. “May I take off my clothes?”
”Uh, I suppose so. Would you like a bodysuit?” Frank asked.
”Non, thank you.” She peeled off her loose blouse and skirt. “Where can I put them?”
”There are cupboards by the door where you went in,” Red suggested. She nodded and disappeared through the door.
She was back in a moment. She rubbed her hands down her bare thighs and took a deep breath. She sprinted for the hanging rope. She jumped and grabbed it, swung across the gap, and dropped off on the other side. She ran towards the hurdles and dove over them in a series of forward handsprings.
”She is so beautiful,” Red breathed. Tracker could smell the waves of healthy lust that radiated from the man. For some reason didn’t understand, he wanted to challenge Red over her. No! he told himself firmly, Red will make a good mate for her.
Tracker watched as she came through the hurdles with fluid grace. Much better than the first time, he thought. It’s not just the lack of clothes. Nor is it just a better familiarity with the course. She’s doing something different. He zoomed in his sight. Her lips moved, as though she were chanting silently. She’s singing, using music to time her movements. His tail waved in long slow sweeps as he appraised her run.
Frank looked at Tracker and raised his eyebrows, then scribbled on his report sheet.
She threw herself sideways, rolled under the fence, then sprang to her feet, jumped, caught the top of the wall and dove over it like water going over a dam. She sprinted along the path, following its twists and turns and running the board like a balance beam until she came to the islands. She dove forward, caught herself on her hands, rolled to her feet, took one step to the edge and dove for the next one. She reached the end of the course and stood. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed deeply and evenly. “How did I do?”
”Much better. Nine minutes, seven seconds,” Frank said.
She nodded. “Bon. Now to try for eight minutes.”
Two hours and several runs later,Tracker and Red met her at the doorway. Sasha passed them on the way in with a door-sized vehicle, her grav-sled, following at shoulder height. Antoinette watched her curiously. Sasha walked with a light, springy step, too much energy pent up in her agile wiry frame. The sled was about ten inches thick. In the top side of the sled she could see an indentation that seemed a perfect likeness of Sasha’s body and head, as if moulded to her from ears to paws.
Frank’s voice came over the intercom as Sasha entered the Training Room. “Okay, Sasha. We are going to try to hit you with anything and everything. You are to evade them only. Do you understand?”
”Yess,” Sasha said. “Dodge attackss. No counter attack.”
”Right,” Frank said. “Get ready.” In a lightning spring, Sasha landed on top of the sled and lowered her face into the mask. Her fingers and toes curled into glove-like indentations as bands of energy curved up and over, locking her into place across shoulders, hips, thigh and calf. A force field, nearly invisible, enveloped both sled and pilot, then the sled darted out into the middle of the room.
Red handed Antoinette a towel from another cabinet. She took it, smiled at him, and began to rub down as she watched Sasha through the open door. A missile rocketed from a hidden tube and the sled cartwheeled away from it. It changed course to come at her again, and the sled jinked at the last moment to let the missile streak past. The projectile changed course again and the sled looped in an Immelmann maneuver that put it behind the missile. Then Sasha chased it, staying behind it. Another missile roared down from the ceiling and the sled darted away, barrel-rolling to confuse the missile’s simple guidance system.
Antoinette shook her head in wonder as she closed the door and handed the towel back to Red, who tossed it in the laundry hamper. Then she walked over to the cupboard where she’d put her clothes and dressed quickly. “Thank you. That was fun. Now I want to eat, I am starving.”
After dinner, she sat with them in the lounge and chatted.
”What name will you take in tiger form?” Red asked.
”What do you mean?” she asked.
”Well,” he replied. “You aren’t really Antoinette when you are in tiger form, are you?”
She shook her head doubtfully. “I suppose I am not.”
”So, what’ll we call you in your tiger form?” ? ”I do not know. What would be a good name for the tigresse?” she asked.
”What about ‘Tigresse’?” Red suggested.
She hesitated. “Tracker? What think you?”
”Tigresse is a fitting name for you,” Tracker said. “The French has a more feminine sound than the simple English word, ‘Tigress.’”
”And it’s also beautiful, just like you,” Red added.
She hesitated a moment more. “Do you like it, Tracker?”
”Yes, I guess so.” The question made him vaguely uneasy.
”Then, that is what I will choose. I am Tigresse in my beast-form.”
After a while, she stood and stretched. “I will go take a shower, then go swim.” Since Red made no move to accompany her, Tracker remained as well, anxious to not appear too interested in her.
After her swim, Tracker and Red escorted her back to her room, then left after wishing her a good night. She sat on the edge of her bed and brushed her hair, letting the repetitive movements relax her as she thought. Everything is so new, so different. My new friends — some are human, like Red or Scott, with the training and equipment to give them their powers. Others, like Marsha, or that young giant, Jerry, are human, with special powers; like myself, with the tigresse. And others, like Shal-ir or Sasha, are not human at all. Tracker is of Shal-ir’s kind, I think, but he acts more like a human than Shal-ir does. Perhaps Tracker was raised here. She smiled. I like him and he likes me, but he is so shy. He is sweet. She laughed softly. Red is not shy. He is a charming rascal, but kind. I trust him. I trust them both.
Her thoughts jumped to Carl Royden. Ah, Carl, if only you could see me now. Once I am trained, I could share in your work. Perhaps I will find Carl and see if he wants me, if things do not work out here. But that would mean giving up Tracker and Red and all the others here. We will see.
After ten minutes, she put the brush away and turned out the lights.
