The BLTS Archive - Goblins
second in the Ghosties & Goblins series
by R. Schultz (cousindream@aol.com)

---

Disclaimer: Paramount and ViaBorgCom owns all Trek, but deserve it
not. I am using their discarded characters, but not for money. Story
mine under Berne Copyright Laws. 11,550 words long. Written October,
2002, for the FFF. May be archived.

---

Of course there was gambling inside. Rick owned and managed the Casino
as well as his Cafe'. The dark-blue uniformed Chef de Police was one
of his best customers and friends.

In return for existing within the precepts of the Casablanca, he paid
a percentage of the net to the Hotel. A percentage which was actually
somewhere between what Rick claimed was his minuscule profit margin
and what the Hotel considered its very fair and extremely low share.

For my part it took only a few visits to find I felt better inside
myself when I saw Rick standing outside the doors of his Cafe'.
Resplendent in his white tuxedo jacket and with some exotic smelling
cigarillo between his lips. His face always looked so used and craggy,
and to me somehow friendly.

Rick always hummed a tune as he stood there, estimating profits,
trouble, police spies and ways to boost his customer base. He'd made
the few obligatory rollings on me when I first appeared on this
planet, but apart from the by-now standard caress of my butt whenever
possible, he'd become both friendly and harmless.

He dropped by to give me his usual wry smile when I sat down at one of
the tables in his sidewalk section of the Cafe'. The price of my first
Chocolate Latte was way too much, but the second and third were free.
He nourished his almost-elite in small ways, but nourish us he indeed
attempted to do. For one thing he didn't bother us if we lingered all
evening over coffee and conversation.

I was part of what passed as an intelligentsia in this small town and
Spaceport, and he enjoyed the prestige of running a place where the
foreigners and exotic types gathered. I was more exotic and foreigner
than intelligentsia, but I was also prettier than most of the regulars.
Being male, Rick appreciated the pretty. Being so black-skinned I also
stood out from the rest. But I knew the pretty was what made Rick
purr.

So did most of the others. Being intelligentsia seemed to mean that if
the pretty female brushed you off, you didn't overtly get pissed, but
put up a facade of indifference until the hurt went away. Which was
galaxies better than getting pissed and getting on the muscle.

I'd had more than enough of the very masculine and obnoxious
testosterone-driven suitors to welcome a little variety. And these
males didn't carry knives. Openly, at least. The red-head, Fonnse, his
face looked like he'd been in a war somewhere. He carried something
knife-like on both shins.

Being raised in the Empire I could spot things like that. He'd noticed
my look, and flashed me the sheaths and a thin smile. Somehow, some
way, we both knew each other to be veterans of a dill someplace. His
first name was Hugo, and we'd played bridge as partners a few times.
Everyone played games of one sort or another at Rick's Place. Sexual
games, card games, word games, but rarely testosterone-driven Alpha
games.

For my part I enjoyed the interplay of minds and words, a little
Chess, Scrabble, Canasta, Kadis Knot, gossip and Poker, and people
watching. Mostly the people watching. It was utterly fascinating the
way humans peacefully interacted with the other races here.

I'd never seen my species do that before. The Empire conquered, put in
an Army of Occupation and recruited the mentally disturbed to be
mercenaries in the next planet's Army of Occupation.


It was also a pleasure not having to keep my back to a wall.

Excepting the twice-yearly brief rainy seasons, the outside part of
the Cafe' was always open for business. The Presidential Palace is
down the street there, the Vulcan Embassy was kitty corner across the
Place DeGaulle, the Federation had a consulate further down the Rue
Victor Hugo, and the most expensive Hotel on the planet was behind me.
They had twenty-nine varieties of chocolate ice cream in their
replicator menu.

That was my daily luxury. A dish of chocolate ice cream.

If you cared, you could see the occasional Sub-Orbital flight come in
at the Spaceport, as well as the periodic arrival of some freighter
down from orbit. They'd been talking about putting in an orbital
station and an elevator down to the planetary surface below, but so
far it was only talk.

There was no hurry. It was that sort of a planet. Once named Hare
Krishna by a few under-funded nut cases who first settled here,
inevitably re-named Harry's Crotch, and now Provencal. Evidently most
of the spacers still called it Harry's Crotch.

No one seemed in a hurry to induct it into the Federation, OR the
Vulcan hegemony, and that suited the locals to a T.

No one knew where, if any, of the original settler's group lived.

With so much of the planet's water locked up in two monstrous ice
caps, the rest of the planet was pretty arid.
The Vulcans didn't mind. Hundreds of them had taken to Villa building
like fish to water. They liked the climate on the arid back slopes of
the low mountains I could see to the west.

The place could have been terraformed, but no one was that interested
in spending that much Credit on a place with only a million or so
inhabitants on each continent. There were a few continental slopes
which were nice, due to prevailing rain patterns. Most of the rest
belonged to the Vulcans and the Goblins. And the Fremen.

Judisar there, he dealt with the Fremen some. Harold was my boss, and
a factor, suttler, for a lot of the Vulcans on the back slopes of the
Hare Kush mountain range. Not much of a mountain range, and the humans
called them the Hairy Tush.

I was delighted at being surrounded by humans who had a sense of
humor. No one in the Empire had a sense of humor. They were too busy
killing each other and making money.

Me? I was Judisar's office staff. Me and a few Computer AI's, and a
bank of Comm equipment. The rest of his operation consisted of
warehouse staff with AI's, truckers and muscle to ride shotgun on the
trucks. The trucks were big blower airflow jobs, made a racket like
you wouldn't believe when they lifted on their giant duct fans.

The muscle was considered necessary because once there had been types
outback who weren't above hi-jacking and murder. In the present, the
Fremen were still long on showing weapons when they arrived to do a
little bartering. So Harold had his people ostensibly armed as well.

The Fremen brought in rough jewel stones and they walked away with
tons of overage Military iron rations, boots, pretty clothes for their
women and whatnot.

For the most part Harold worried about costs, merchandise arriving,
the going market price of the jewel stones the Fremen came up with,
and fitfully trying to talk me into going out with him. And have sex
with him, but that's a given, isn't it?

A contingent of Vulcans sauntered across the Place DeGaulle. They
liked the chatter and the occasional nugget of true wisdom thrown out
by the humans loitering here at the Cafe'. I liked scoping out the
girls. The ones at the Embassy all seemed to like short skirts and had
the legs to go with them.

There were quite a few nice Vulcan girls working there, but
unfortunately they all appeared about as approachable as a singularity
drive. Didn't stop me from looking. And perhaps the unapproachability
appealed to me as much as anything else. I'd always had a yen for
straight gals.

Previously I had liked blondes, but these females were choice.

*Sigh* If only one or two liked females as well, but so far it
appeared I was the only one. There HAD to be other lesbians in this
town....

I smelled the fresh iron stink of blood and knew one of my Ghosts had
arrived. I'd learnt long ago not to physically react to their
presence. Trying to explain Number One, or Commander Gary Mitchell, or
Yeoman Colt to strangers was a losing proposition. I knew from the
start it was no use explaining I was from an alternate universe, so
I'd never mentioned THAT to anyone outside of Starfleet Intelligence.

Excepting my persistent Ghosts, the Empire and the Imperial ENTERPRISE
were gone. The Imperium was minus one Uhura, me, and this universe had
two Uhura's. There was one on the ENTERPRISE, who had my job as Bridge
Communications Officer, and had my woman, Christine Chapel, in her
bed.

Helga -- my Number One -- whispered in my ear that she liked the
Vulcan gal on the left. I liked the concept of being fabulously rich,
but I didn't expect that to occur any time soon, either.

Singed leather was Commander Gary Mitchell. The Commander then opined
that he preferred the one in the center. The burning bacon smell
preceded Yeoman Colt. Naturally she had to put in her two sous worth.

She thought I should try the elder male conversing with the Vulcan
women. Colt was forever trying to get me in bed with a male. She hoped
fervently that I'd switch to guys. Faint chance.

My right palm itched again, so I scratched it. I was wearing Yeoman
Colt's right arm and hand, courtesy of a little emergency transplant
surgery. My hand always itched when she was near.

At least they'd matched the skin pigmentation perfectly.

One of the female Vulcans sat down at the table next to mine. I
realized I knew her from somewhere, besides here at the Cafe'. She was
one of the new and possibly unmarried ones. At any rate she was not
usually accompanied by a familiar glowering male. Vulcan males always
seemed to glower.

It being local noontime and it being the local custom during the hot
dry summer for an extended lunch and leisure period, the Cafe' began
to bustle. Not excessively. Like I said, it was that sort of a planet.
Everyone took it for granted that life would go on swimmingly even
with a little pause added on.

When I finally realized who this haughty one was, or who I presumed
she was, I slid into a metal chair next to her.

"I'm Uhura Nyota," I said into her perfect face. "You're T'Pring,
aren't you? You're new to the Embassy staff, aren't you?"

It had been well over a year and a half ago, Terran time, but the
entire ENTERPRISE had been plastered with images of her, Spock, and
the short bloody fight between Spock and Lt. Stiles. He'd been neatly
suckered by T'Pring, and our McCoy had been unhappy at receiving Lt.
Stiles' body so badly cut up he had to waste almost all the internal
organs. Spock in a roaring seizure was lethal to go near.

My Kirk had laughed when the Doctor had gotten into another tizzy with
Spock regarding the small number of usable transplant organs left to
Stiles' corpse.

Our McCoy and Spock always fought, and I'd always wondered if this
universe's Spock and McCoy were constantly at odds.

In any event I'd noticed what a rare combination of beauty and
lethality the Vulcan woman was.

I hadn't been expecting to see her again, and I corrected myself
abruptly. The mismatched struggle between Stiles and Spock had
occurred in MY universe. Maybe not hers.

"Aren't you the one who almost married Commander Spock?"

She came the closest to reacting as any Vulcan I had ever seen. She
froze and slowly panned to where she could look me straight in the
eyes. In the minute before she eventually spoke, I had the leisure to
contemplate how sweet it would be to kiss this perfect face. Excepting
the fact that being Vulcan, the kiss would probably be closer to
necrophilia than passion.

Maybe Vulcans reproduced by spores. I couldn't imagine them doing so
by customary straight sex. And I couldn't imagine them having lots of
kids if rumor was correct and the males only got the urge once every
several years.

Vulcan must be the perfect place to set up a lesbian rendezvous bar, a
cruise bar, if true. All the straight girls would need a little
relief.

Dream on, I told myself.

"Yes," T'Pring admitted. Silence. She was waiting for me to continue.

I could ask her what happened to Stonn. I could ask her why she was on
this planet. I could ask her if she'd like a game of 3-D chess. I
could ask to buy her a cup of coffee or a glass of wine or juice. I
could ask her to get naked with me.

"Have you ever had a woman tell you how beautiful you are?" I asked
instead.

"Many," she replied. "I know I am beautiful. It is not a surprise to
be so described." Pause.

"You are beautiful as well," she added. I preened a little, glad I'd
prettied myself a bit before leaving Judisar's little office. Inwardly
sighing. Letting my imagination place us nude and sweaty on my bed.
Panting and groaning. Wondering what a Vulcan's sex tasted like. Maybe
this Vulcan didn't eat meat. She'd probably taste superb.

*Sigh* Dream on. It had been a while between willing females.

Now what to talk about? Might as well ask....

"I know about Stonn, and I'm wondering.... What ever happened between
you and him? I know I'm being dreadfully invasive of your privacy, but
I'm dying to know. Can you forgive me for asking?"

Good excuse to be paly and hold her hand a little. Soft skin, no
surprise, I could feel the bones of her hand. I wanted to kiss the
palm. Lick between the fingers. Nibble on those pointed ears.

She didn't disengage her hand, but she also didn't immediately answer.

"You are correct in stating that you are invading my privacy.
Nonetheless I shall engage you in what will be in all probability
meaningless conversation. If you wish to know -- things -- about me,
that is ill-mannered of you, but I shall allow it. You Terrans
intrigue me. Therefore I shall forgive you. I shall learn about
Terrans from you.

"Stonn is my husband. Stonn has also felt it polite to leave our home
planet for a period of time which shall allow our families to retain
balance. In twenty-two and a half years we shall both return. As
mates. This is acceptable to all.

"It was to be expected for there to be the unavoidable necessity of
regaining balance. We had outmaneuvered both our familial groups, and
had expected this temporary exile."

"Punishment?" I ventured.

"No. Merely a period in which it would be good manners if we were not
to appear in the assemblies of our clans.

"Yes, I suppose your Terrans would call it a punishment. We knew being
out of sight on other planets for twenty-two and a half years would
fulfill the accepted patterns of behavior in our society.

"In truth we had planned for twenty-two and a half years apart from
each other and away from the Mother Planet of Vulcan. It was
necessary. It is no hardship. We shall reunite in twenty-two and a
half years."

For some reason I asked; "Terran or Vulcan years?" She answered they
were Vulcan. Small talk wasn't a skill taught at the Imperial StarNavy
Academy.

"Do you like to dance?" I asked. Dumb question. Vulcans didn't enjoy
themselves, I surmised.

"Dancing is that pattern of holding another person close, and then
moving in synchronous movements approximately matching that of your
rhythmic Terran noises called music, is it not?"

I had to think a moment before answering yes.

"It is customarily practiced as part of your human preliminary
maneuvers before engaging in copulation, is it not?"

I just nodded my head to that one, then realizing she might not
understand the motion, said; "Yes.".

"I am not positive I would enjoy this dancing. It is, however, very
vigorous, is it not? It is a form of exercise as well as a means of
heightening sexual awareness?"

I agreed that it could indeed be construed as vigorous exercise, but
not always. It depended on the pattern of music. This felt strange.
Was she rolling on me?

"This is satisfactory," she stated. "Physical exercise is always
healthy for the body.

"Do we dance now?" she asked.

"There's a place inside, part of the Casino, where they dance," I
explained. "Dancing occurs there."

"Good. I have eighty-four minutes in which to dance before I must
return to my post in the Embassy. Is it difficult to learn to dance?
You shall teach me."

"But they aren't quite open yet, I don't think," I quickly said.
Feeling equally parts dazed, and tingly/edgy at the thought of holding
that busty young body to mine.

T'Pring thought for a minute. Then she asked me; "Are they "dancing"
tonight? I am finished with my Embassy work at Seven O'clock local
time. We may dance after work cessation.

"Is it expected that we shall copulate after this dancing? That might
not be pleasing if it does not include your "romance". I have heard of
your "romance" as an intriguing and massively elaborated experience. I
would wish to experience it. It would be interesting.

"Isn't a period of "courting" necessary first? I would not wish to
violate human norms and protocols. You must tell me what is a
preliminary norm.

"Are not Terran mating rituals more complex than that? Is not Terran
"romance" a part of your "love" obsession?

"Experiencing "love" would be fascinating. We have heard much of
Terran "love". I want to experience human style "love". Does "love"
occur after or before copulation?"

Had she just said what I thought she'd said?

So I explained to her that dancing was pleasing to Terrans in its own
right. And that "love" occurs by chance, not by premeditated
collateral fall-out from lust. Then I had to try to explain all the
phrases I'd just used. She understood approximations and similes,
though she stated she did not approve of such imprecision in speech.

Mentally noting she hadn't backed up screaming at the possibility of
-- copulating -- with me.


Had I just gotten lucky or was I the victim of bad Standard to Vulcan
translation and a cross-cultural misunderstanding?

Not to worry. Anything that got me rubbing my body against her body at
some point was not to be scorned. Attempting to make small talk I
further explained to her that sometimes a change of clothes was
appropriate before dancing. We would both be perfectly attired in our
present dresses, however, in this case, as we would be dancing for
"enjoyment".

Now she's got me using quotes.

Having broken the ice to a small degree, I proceeded to explain to her
some Terran customs. What a date was, first of all. We would be
enjoying a "date" I told her. Which I had to explain. Unfortunately
neither one of us understood what a date was by the end of my
explanation.

T'Pring keeps using the word copulation. If she's TEASING me...

Also about business lunches, Poker, and chocolate ice cream. She had
some of my ice cream after I ordered. She liked it, for she got a dish
of Rocky Road on my recommendation.

I had to explain to her that the parts of the ice cream were intended
to be impossible to separate before eating.

I told her about the Fremen, this planet's version of wild tribesmen,
who lived in the outback, in the dry lands. She was amazed to discover
it rained in the meters during a wet season in the capital city. She
already knew there was an indigenous large more or less (maybe)
intelligent bipedal fauna called the Goblins. The Embassy told them of
the Goblins as part of their initial orientation here. Goblins were
taller than most Terrans, ugly as sin, and they howled at the moon.
Literally.

There weren't many of them, no one knew much about them, no one really
cared, but the Planetary government had reserved some immensely big
tracts as reserves for them. They seemed to prefer living in a dry
desert environment. The Reserve back of the Hairy Tush's was as large
as Terra's Africa.

Like I said, there weren't that many inhabitants on Harry's Crotch,
and reserving half the planet's usable land surface for a few Goblins
kept the Federation observers happy.

It also kept the Vulcans from complaining too loudly about restricting
an intelligent indigenous species. Needs come to must, the Federation
and Vulcans could probably relocate everyone off the planet to
someplace else. Naturally the planetary authorities presumed the
Vulcans and Federation would pay the piper.

Of course I then had to explain the phrase "paying the piper".

From there I explained about Terran Goblins and Trolls and Elves, then
about Halloween, and how it had evolved from All Hallow's Eve,
Walpurgis Nacht, a night when evil supposedly reigned. Then I tried
explaining European history, witches, wizards, and dragons. Then I got
to explaining Fairie, Gnomes, Beowulf, Leprechauns, Ireland, and
Ragnorak and Fimbulwinter.

I was feeling extremely frazzled by the time we rose to return to our
mundane jobs. We being T'Pring and myself, three other cute female
Vulcans, and the Vulcan Vice-consul.

They were all fascinated by tales of the little folk, the Gnomes,
Leprechauns and Elves especially.

It was gratifying to be the center of attention. As for me, I had a
pretty alien who was trying to suck me dry, and I continued in part
because of the challenge she set me, and because I hoped to suck her
dry.

Some time in the future, hopefully.

In any case, I enjoyed immensely being drawn out this way. No one on
my ENTERPRISE had given a damn what if anything I knew about, or
outside of my job. I was a female Comm Officer. I was a life support
system for a vagina, and a worker drone. Period. End of description.

We were standing at the corner, T'Pring and these four other Vulcans
were standing and listening to me, and I was happy but worn about the
edges. That's when the big commercial carrier flic pulled up alongside
our little group.

There were ordnance's concerning traffic and parking vehicles on the
street, but like I'd said, they didn't get very excited about some
things here. So we ignored it, and waited for it to move out of our
way.

Instead four Terrans boiled out of its suddenly opened side bay
doors. They surrounded us, the Vulcans and me, and told us to get into
the cargo carrier flic.

They were armed with what were lethal hand weapons of assorted
varieties and vintages, and a knife or two. The Vulcan male at the
heart of our group protested, but he got a clout across the side of
his head for his trouble. After that it seemed politic to bend to
their demands.

Damn, just like they said, Vulcans had green blood.

The kidnappers were rank amateurs, obviously. They didn't seek to
disarm us, if we had been armed. I had my knife in my boot, but I
decided not to voluntarily turn it over to them.

There were bench seats to each side where we could sit and brace each
other during some possibly extreme evasive maneuvers in the "getaway".
As we began moving, I had a chance to closely view our kidnapers.

I noticed they had extremely dark hands, and brows. Male Caucasian
humans who had been out in the sun for extensive periods. But the rest
of their faces were much lighter.

Fremen!

Normally they wear veils in the desert outback. Cuts down on the
amount of grit they would otherwise wind up eating.

What the hell did a bunch of Fremen want with a few assorted and
mostly female Vulcans?

Well, there WAS that possibility, of course. But I didn't much believe
we were destined to be sequestered in some desert seraglio. Possible,
but for some reason my mind told me these yokels didn't have sex on
their minds.

Kidnap for ransom? Not hardly. Bad planning if so. Say they got the
ransom? First time a bunch of Fremen showed up somewhere with a lot of
monetary chits or a filche or two, their next stop would be at a
re-education center.

In the year and more since I had crossed over from the ENTERPRISE, I'd
observed Planetary re-ed centers tended to be a great deal more direct
than the Federation variety.

No one wants to re-emerge from one of those centers with a dreamy
creamy happy smile perpetually spread across their ecstatic face. The
rehabs always struck me as people who were never ever after able to
keep both their oars in the water.

In the event we had an erratic trip that lasted only a few minutes.
Then we stopped, and were ordered out of the carrier. Our guards and
kidnappers had a shuttle craft for us when we were forced to leave the
flic, and our next part of the kidnapping involved us haring off into
the sky at what was probably a breakneck speed. We'd had a change of
vehicles!

My estimation of their planning went up from being conceived by
severely retarded Fremen to being conceived by mentally challenged
Fremen.

Spaceport or Government Center should be able to track us easily, but
that supposed there was anyone at the screens and they were awake. Not
likely on Harry's Crotch.

It might be hours before anyone back in the Capital even realized a
mass kidnapping had taken place.

I was mentally estimating the possibility of escaping and not liking
the probabilities.

The driver had a Klingon disruptor, and one of the Fremen had a 2cm
stored-charge cyan auto-pistol. I'd determined they also had three
antiquated slug-throwers amongst themselves. Pistols. Not to mention
some fairly long knives in waist belt sheaths. Not encouraging. I
might get away, but there'd probably be way too much green blood
spilled in my wake.

These yokels were rank amateurs, and there was no telling what they
might do in a panic situation.

Besides which, to get away I'd probably have to terminate one or two
of these fools with my knife first. Considering how much enjoyment I
obtained from living in an almost murder-free Federation, I didn't
want to begin assassinating any time soon.

Besides which, any knifed Fremen'd probably come back to haunt me.
Literally. It's bad enough living with the three ghosts I already
have. I didn't relish adding to the crowd.

Speaking of which Number One and Commander Mitchell finally showed up,
and Yeoman Colt after. Colt had eyes as big as Tricorders. I'd always
known she was a misfit in the assassination-happy Empire. If the trio
shooting up the Salt Creature had shown better fire-control and let
Yeoman Colt live past the encounter, she still would have been dead by
now. She wasn't a survival type, not on the Imperial ENTERPRISE.

Helga, Number One, agreed with my assessment of the situation. Colt
suggested relaxing and waiting for the authorities to rescue everyone.
Like I said, naive as hell.

Mitchell and Number One both pointed out that the level of
incompetence displayed by the kidnappers was probably matched or
exceeded by the level of incompetence probable to any planetary
government's rescue attempts. Not on Harry's Crotch.

In the event our non-verbal argument was eventually solved by the
Fremen kidnappers themselves.

In less than thirty minutes we were wherever it was we were supposed
to go. Which was a wind-sculpted cave-riddled red-stone wasteland,
somewhere in the outback of this continent. Obviously they didn't
understand how easy it'd be to pinpoint every large humanoid being
from high orbit. One pass by something akin to the ENTERPRISE and
everyone on the continent could be counted. With their age, race and
gender identified.

Again, however, you'd have to have the skillet before you made the
omelet. I wasn't sure the planetary authorities had the brains to
enlist the services of an up-to-date space freighter, or possible
nearby military spaceship.

I had to presume I, we, were on our own.

Nearly the only plus to this farce was the fact I'd been able to stay
close to T'Pring and occasionally caress her. Those smooth thighs of
hers felt like heaven. She hadn't objected to a little touch here or
there. I think she'd backed up on me when my palm was carefully
estimating her backside.

God! she was lovely.

So maybe my priorities were skewed. No one's perfect.

We were met by another three Fremen and escorted into one large
cave/overhang. I last saw the shuttle edging into another immense hole
in the stone walls. We had reached the "hide-out", such as it was.

In a gloomy spacious central node, we were treated to a rousing speech
by what was likely the Ringmaster of this circus. It was a long boring
statement intended to convey the justice of their cause and their
willingness to go to any length or extreme in their efforts to remove
the invaders from "their" planet.

DAMN! those quotes!

These self-styled Revolutionaries may have been willing to harm a few
innocent hostages for their idiotic ideal, I could believe that.
Fremen were known to be erratic and dangerous on occasion. But I
wondered what they'd say after a few months in a rehab center? Not
much. Drool a little, but not say much.

It struck me that they didn't have a very realistic notion of what the
authorities might do. Or even whether the government had yet realized
a kidnapping had taken place.

Amateur city all the way around.

In the Empire the first response would be to locate the kidnappers, or
some likely group, and then phaser a few thousand kilometers into a
bubbling glass wasteland. Or drop a Boron Horizon bomb on the region
and let half the planet enjoy the fallout.

Thinking about that made me realize maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to
allow and encourage local authorities be a mite slow and incompetent.
Beats the hell out of becoming a cloud of stray excited ions dancing
in a radioactive atmosphere.

After that stirring speech by Super Brain, we were left to sit on
projections of stone with one or two Fremen to watch over us. Two
showed up in more traditional rag wrappings, and took over the
guarding.

Eventually they realized they had to feed us, water us, and let us
find an outhouse. And after a few hours they had the revelation that
we had to be put somewhere a bit softer to gain a little sleep. Light
came from a few dozen cheap glow strips.

We were split up into three groups, and by dint of determination and a
few hostile growls one of those groups consisted of myself and
T'Pring. They left us in a cave nook with lots of fine grained sand on
the floor. Great. All the luxuries.

My estimation of our kidnapers had retreated to that of retarded from
merely mentally challenged.

Finally after two or three hours of trying to sleep on a layer of cold
sand, I shook T'Pring awake. We huddled for warmth a while, until my
anger finally got the better of me.

I walked up to our squatting guards, bold as brass, obviously with a
full head of steam. The pair rose up and started yelling at me and
gesturing me back to my comfy cozy bed of sand.

So I reached down, pulled my knife out of my boot and stabbed one in
the meaty part of the thigh.

He went down like he was pole-axed. I twisted the knife out as he went
down, and smashed the hilt into his nose. He went down and stayed
down. For the other one, using my knife hilt as weight to my blow, I
gave him a good one in the solar plexus. He doubled over promptly and
I clipped him in the side of the head with the hilt. Once they were
down I kicked them into silence and (hopefully) possible sub-dermal
edema.

They'd probably thought they were strong desert warriors and hunters
and similar bullshit. But I'd grown up in the Empire, and that was a
much harsher school than a piddley assed desert environment. I also
had to admit it was remarkably therapeutic to kick a little ass after
a day of being treated to their stupidity.

That then begged the question as to what to do next.

"C'mon, babe," I told T'Pring. "We're leaving this fiasco. We're
toppling the Revolution. Something.

"Follow me, kid, and we're going places. Someplace on this goddamned
desert there had better be a soft bed and a blanket. Anything would
beat the hell out of sleeping on cold sand."

Like any good femme, she let me take her hand and we began to
negotiate the twists and curves of this ill-lit warren. There were
glows stuck to the walls in a few places, and we followed the light
towards what soon developed into a home sweet home for four Fremen.

They were praying, chanting, something. "Hairy Christmas, Hairy
Christmas," over and over again, crouched and rocking on the balls of
their feet.

I suddenly had a good idea as to what happened to the original
religious cult settlers of this planet, the Hare Krishna's. The aspect
that brought a smile to my face, however, was that this four were
wrapped in some heavenly looking blankets.

Me want. Me goddamned cold, excuse me to hell and back. Short dresses
were for show, not survival.

These four had rifles, antique bullet projectors. I'd used rifles back
on Imperial Earth, in my Youth Leader summer camps. These rifles were
sturdy, made of plastron and metal, and incidentally, made wonderful
clubs.

I'd forgotten T'Pring was a Vulcan, for all her sweet soft voice and
lush body. She gave two the Vulcan neck pinch, putting them down for
the count. I did for the other two morons.

She was very butch and incredibly sexy appearing while dispatching the
two. I felt like stripping our clothes off and copulating on the
blankets.

Now she's got me using the word.

I could hear yelling behind us by the time this group was oblivious.
Of course one Fremen here was still groaning. He was seriously unhappy
after being butt stroked in the groin, but I managed to feel little
sympathy for him. Just another male, to my mind. I presumed the
yelling indicated our initial guards were back in service. Telling all
and sundry both T'Pring and myself had escaped.

There was a good breeze to our front, so T'Pring and I headed for what
I thought must be the great outdoors. Laden with blankets, rifles, a
belt of ammunition, two canteens of water, and two bags of something
that had been lying on the floor.

There hadn't been a lot of time to spend shopping around for survival
gear. This would have to do.

In the dark night outside we had to slow down, but eventually our
vision adapted to the night. A full moon was sliding up the sky, so we
had light to run and hide by.

T'Pring and I went to earth about three hundred meters from the
lighted cave entrance. We were in a swale with a few straggly bushes
in it, and not in immediate view. I poked my head over the berm, and
viewed the milling Fremen lighted from behind.

To give them a little to chew on I sighted down the rifle and put
three bullets to one side of the kidnappers. One of them went down,
then ran back inside holding his arm. Hadn't meant to actually hurt
anyone, just scare them into waiting until morning to look for us.
Which I seemed to have done.

Commander Mitchell told me I hadn't allowed for windage. Number One
congratulated me on my shooting. Yeoman Colt was indignant that I
hadn't intended to shoot any of my kidnappers. I hadn't realized she
had a bloodthirsty streak in her.

Trying to sleep on that cold sand must have been a burden to ghosts as
well as organics.

Gary Mitchell advised me to move down the swale, and be ready to take
another shot or two to discourage the Fremen from again attempting to
follow us. I agreed, and moved to what had to be the east, motioning
T'Pring to follow me.

No sooner had I laid prone and put the old rifle up, than figures
again showed at the cave mouth. There was still light behind them,
making them perfect targets. Definitely retarded.

I allowed for windage, but still nailed one in the foot. I think. He
was holding his foot and hobbling back inside the cave as the lights
were finally extinguished deeper inside the cave.

When I rolled over on my back, T'Pring was staring at me.

"Who was it you were talking to?" she asked.

"My Ghosts," I blurted.

"They exist?!?!" she asked. "I had assumed they were part of your
Terran folklore. Do all Terrans have Ghosts? This is fascinating."

"Just me," I explained. "And just the three of them."

I introduced the three to T'Pring, and she was courteous when speaking
to them.

"Will you inform me when your Ghosts are in attendance? This is a
unique and exciting phenomenon. I am extremely gratified to be able to
study this aspect of Terran existence."

She sat and thought before continuing.

"You just rescued me from our kidnappers, didn't you?"

"Us."

"Us," she corrected. "That makes you my hero, doesn't it? In the
Terran HoloDramas I have seen, if you are the hero, then I must be the
heroine. The heroine usually falls in "love" with the hero, and they
have a "romance". Are we having a romance?"

"We're having an adventure, I think," I said. "Not the same thing. Not
that a romance would be impossible, but I think we should get out of
this situation first, don't you?"

T'Pring looked quizzical in the moonlight. "Then we are not going to
copulate? I would like to copulate right now. Don't you copulate with
females? Everyone does on Vulcan. You are very pretty and you are my
hero. If we copulate does that mean this adventure will become a
romance?"

I put up my hand, and she stopped abruptly.

"Answer me a question," I demanded. "Did you just say you -- copulated
-- with other females on Vulcans?

"I mean, do YOU have sex with other women, females?"

"Of course. Most adult Vulcan females have a series of female sexual
partners in their long lives, especially during marriage.

"Are not you a female who has sex with other females?" she asked.
"When we talked at the Cafe' today, I presumed you wanted sex with me.
I decided I would like to copulate with a human female. You are very
pretty."

Well, so much for T'Pring being a straight gal.

"Yes," I admitted, "I prefer women as my sexual partners. But you're
married?"

"It is customary for females of our species to fornicate with other
females on Vulcan. Four and a quarter percent of all Vulcan wives will
leave their husbands to live with another female of our species. Seven
and a half percent of Vulcan's females opt to live celibate lives, and
have neither husbands nor female lovers. They do not like to copulate
either with Vulcan males or other women. However, the majority of us
engage freely in casual or long-term relationships with other women.

"I fully intend to maintain a female lover, perhaps three, throughout
my marriage."

She looked at me and I suddenly remembered Vulcans could see better
than humans in the dark, they could also see a few degrees into the
infrared. She could probably see me perfectly.

"You are intriguing, perhaps more so than an average Terran female.
Quite apart from your undeniable physical attributes, I think it would
be immensely satisfying on many levels to have you as a lesbian
lover."

She reached out a hand, caressing my shoulder and arm, then my neck. I
leaned into it like a cat, wanting more. Shivers went through me, and
I caught her hand in order to kiss the palm.

In a second we were both lying on the sand of this almost-gully and
kissing. She was all over me, and any doubts I may have still had
about her liking girls burned away in seconds.

She laid on top of me, rubbing her body on mine, kissing, licking my
face and chin, and her hand quickly found my belly and then my groin.
Her hand wormed into me, parting me, tearing my composure into shreds.

I had to stop this, however.

"T'Pring, darling, oh my sweet Vulcan," I said into her ear, "oh shit,
we can't do this quite yet, we shouldn't. We have to escape first.
We're WAY too close to our kidnappers, and we should get away and find
refuge for the night elsewhere."

This Vulcan, however, had a one-track mind.

"The Fremen are no threat for the next forty-six minutes," she calmly
stated. "We have enough time to copulate. You are wet in your groin. I
presume that means you are anxious to copulate. A wet groin indicates
a positive response to imminent sex in our species. It means the same
in yours, does it not?"

She was back to kissing, and her fingers were so delightfully all over
my wet groin. Definitely a positive reaction to imminent sex in my
culture as well.

"T'Pring....."

She mumbled something, her thumb busy on my clit, her tongue in my
ear.

"T'Pring, sweetheart," I tried again. "We have these blankets, dear,
why don't we us them? Please? I'm freezing my ass off out here in the
night...."

She pulled us onto our sides and immediately manipulated my ass
cheeks, which was nice in its own right, but not what I meant.

"Your ass is cooled from lying on nighttime sand, but is not freezing.
You have a pleasing ass. Later I shall enjoy kissing and caressing it.
That should warm it.

"Do you wish me to kiss your ass right now? I am perfectly agreeable.
The thought of kissing one hundred percent of your ass excites me. I
enjoy being excited.

"Nonetheless I shall wrap us in the two blankets. You used an
aphorism, did you not? Or was it a simile?"

"It was a complaint. Gimmee those damned blankets, will you? Ahhh,
much better. Now let's snuggle a little bit, warm up a lot, and get
back to some serious fondling. I want to do you too. Let's lay on our
sides, okay? Please? That's better....

"Yeah, lift the one leg and I'll lift mine. Oooh, your groin is wet
also. Does that indicate a positive reaction to a little lesbian sex?
I hope so, because I want us both to come together..."

"You wish us to achieve mutual simultaneous orgasms? That is
satisfactory to me. Rub my clit with your hand, no, spit on it, yes,
yes, spit on it some more. Make your fingers slick.

"In my apartment I have thirteen different scents of masturbation
lubricant. I want to take you to my bed and masturbate you with the
aid of my oils. The oils become more fragrant as masturbation warms
and lubricates the groin. The oils fragrances increase exponentially
as a woman's groin becomes wet and hot.

"I enjoy a fragrant pussy, including my own.

"We use the term hot, do you also? I am hot. Spit on your hand again.
I enjoy clitoral rubbing when your fingers are lubricated. Pinch my
clit between your finger and thumb. I also enjoy mild and irregular
spanking of my groin. Do you want your sex patted vigorously, or
spanked?

"I love to masturbate. I can do it for hours. Do you masturbate for
long periods of time? You'll enjoy my oils on your groin. Your pussy.

"I ejaculate whenever I want to. Do human females control their
ejaculations as Vulcans do? Many of my fellow Vulcan females sit naked
in a circle of comfortable chairs and masturbate for each other. I
enjoy watching other females masturbate and ejaculate. We enjoy the
visual aspect of sex. Do humans?

"When we have the leisure I wish to orally satisfy you. I enjoy the
taste of a female's orgasmic fluids. Do you enjoy the taste? Vulcans
frequently rub their faces with their female lovers fluids, then allow
the fluid to dry. We greet each other, rub cheeks and enjoy the scent
of our lovers fluids.

"I have frequently watched human pornographic HoloDramas, especially
human females performing cunnilingus. You humans call it eating pussy.
I love to eat pussy. It is emotionally and physically satisfying. You
do like to eat pussy, don't you? The human females in the pornographic
HoloDramas liked to eat pussy. Some of them did not eat pussy very
well. I am very expert at eating pussy. I shall demonstrate my skills
to you at the first opportunity.

"Do you enjoy rim jobs? Is that not your human phrase for anilingus? I
shall give you many rim jobs if that pleases you. T'Pata, the
short-statured Vulcan female kidnapped with us, she enjoys rim jobs.
We had sex last night. She says I do rim jobs with remarkable
enthusiasm.

"Do you like T'Pata? She would enjoy giving you a rim job. When we
regain the Capital, I shall introduce you to her and tell her to give
you a rim job.

"You humans don't smell in as wide a range as Vulcans, do you? We have
a very sensitive olfactory sense. I do not think our taste buds are
superior to humans, however. Do you like to have your female lovers
ejaculate on your face?

"You fist, I presume. T'Pata has small hands and enjoys fisting her
partners during a first sexual encounter. She can fist without the aid
of any additional lubricant other than copious amounts of saliva. She
is tireless. She is a very dedicated and experienced fister."

In one sense her non-stop dialogue was driving me wildly hot beyond
easy telling, in another she was driving me to total distraction.

I HAD to shut her up, somehow, so I aggressively began kissing her
again. Which wasn't a bad idea. T'Pring liked to nibble on her lovers
lips, just a light nibble, and intersperse that with some straight
kissing and tongue touching. Very genteel. I had a feeling she could
be brutal and bruising if I showed any desire for kissing that
unrestrained and passionate. Genteel suited me just fine, this night.

I could get to like Vulcan girls.

As soon as I called up a mental image of T'Pring with her hand inside
that little Vulcan doll, I had to come. And come hard. I guess I was
more visual than I thought.

Just as advertised, T'Pring came as I wobbled up the crest and then
wobbled back down again. She finally subsided in a welter or moans and
indistinct groans or words. She shuddered constantly, until the worst
or best of her spasms had ended.

I was surprised when T'Pring burrowed under the blankets and used her
Vulcan strength to pull my panty hose down to my ankles. Squirming
like a salamander, she then forced her head between my legs and
happily nursed on my wet groin and especially my pussy entrance.

She was positively musical as she suckled on me. She hummed and made
chortling noises. As she did so I realized I was already cranking into
another come. A much better one this time. Gradual, yet fast, and
centering on her frantic little lips licking and sucking and biting
and probing me. She lifted my ass and spread my legs so that she could
sop up my girl juices as fast as I could make them. All this with both
of us tangled in those blankets and my ankles still locked together.


She kept twirling her tongue in my entrance, and licking me and
teasing my clit with her teeth and sucking it deep inside her mouth
and releasing it and biting on it again and then her tongue was trying
to get all the way inside me and I just

HAD

to come and

come again or

just keep coming on that damned strong supersonic fast long tongue in
me as I

had to push her away. I think I was crying in pain, but it was good
pain.

I panted, and Number One clapped her hands in joy for and with me.
Commander Mitchell patted me on my head and told me that was all very
good, but wasn't it time to move on? The Fremen kidnappers weren't
going to hide in that cave all night.

"T'Pring," I murmured, my hands lovingly mussing her hair. "I think we
should get up now and find a new hiding place, further from this cave.

"Can you tell direction, by any chance? We should head east, I think,
towards the Capital. We should make it in a few days. The Hairy Tush's
were not far, from what I saw when we were bustled into that cave. At
least they're not all that rugged, and we need a goal, someplace to
make for."

She looked at the moon for a minute, then pointed in a direction which
I presumed was the east.

"It is 2241 hundred hours local sidereal time and the moon is in 80
minutes and four seconds of arc in the sky, therefore due east is in
that direction. Heading due east would bring us to a probable pass in
the mountains within four days of walking.

"Unfortunately the probable odds are that our kidnappers would be
searching for us along such a straight line."

I finished getting myself back in my clothes and gave T'Pring a nice
kiss. She oozed onto me like a giant amoebae, prompting an immediate
surge of tingly and warm, especially in my groin. If only we had the
time right now.... But we didn't.

"I think you are correct," I said. "Therefore we should move out along
an angle, then move gradually east. I shook the canteens, welcoming
the weight and limited gurgle, signifying they were filled almost to
the top. I opened both and took a sip. Water. Just exactly what we
needed. There should be four to five days in them for the both of us,
enough to last us until we got over the mountains at some point. With
any luck at all we could strike a stream or spring along the way.
Perhaps improbable, but possible.

The bag contained packaged iron rations, survival rations. The sort of
thing I'd helped my boss sell by the ton to the Fremen in previous
months. Cheap remainders from Federation ships and other planets.
Nothing very tasty by my standards, but nutritious. The expiration
date for freshness was probably years in the past, but I doubt if
either of us would object. If I could see what the packets were, I'd
wolf down something right now. Then I had a bolt of inspiration.

"T'Pring, new jewel of my heart," I cooed. "Do you think you could
read the labels on these packages of food? Those hard crackers the
Fremen gave us have long since been converted into my digestive system
and I am hungry enough to eat the next Fremen that comes my way."

"Of course....lover," she said. "I am going to call you lover when we
are by ourselves, from this point forward in time. Unless you have
another name you wish me to use with you?"

"Lover is fine," I said. "The food....?"

"This is a tube of squash and soy concentrate with pork by products
and beans in cranberry sauce."

Pass on that one, I think.

"Here is Evasberry jellied concentrate with additional sugars. I like
Evasberry. Do you enjoy Evasberry? A high-energy concentrate like
this would be beneficial to our bio-systems if we are to walk out of
this desert."

"Gimme, gimme," I drooled. It was divine. T'Pring and I went halves on
it, then we each had a swallow of water.

T'Pring informed me Vulcans needed twelve and a half percent less
water than a Terran human did. She estimated my weight at something
almost exactly what it was last week, and said she was four and a
third kilos of weight less than me. She would measure and adjust her
water ration to allow myself an exact and greater portion of the
water. The canteens were three-liter capacity. She estimated we would
run out of water in one hundred and nine hours and seven minutes local
sidereal time.

A little Evasberry in the night, a little water, and T'Pring's hands
on my body and I felt like we'd be back in the capital by tomorrow
night.

As the movement would warm me, us, and T'Pring could lead, we
immediately set out on our way. I stumbled a lot before I got back
into the lift-the-foot-higher patterns I remembered from my Youth
Leader days. We'd done a lot of marching back then. One reason I'd
opted for StarNavy was because of those exciting and constant marches
across hill and dale.

I still stumbled a lot. Once I fell down, and I think T'Pring
purposefully found pathways not so rocky thereafter. It had felt nice,
though, when she kissed my scraped knee.

By the time sunrise occurred, T'Pring estimated we'd gone twenty-one
kilometers, and we allowed ourselves another three hours in the light
before we called it a day. By that time it was getting hot, and we
looked for a laager where I could look back on our trail.

There was more brush than there had been around the cave, and I
allowed myself to hope we might run across a functioning watershed
during our journey. Thus far we had managed to walk without too much
pain, though we both had blisters. I thanked fate for making practical
boots fashionable on Provencal. We could have used thick socks,
though, that was for sure. Modern panty hose was warm enough, but
didn't prevent chaffing.

T'Pring slept and I took first watch. She under the slight overhang
that kept the sun off her, and me on top of it. Chewing on soft baked
pork and a tube of vegetable whatever. In four hours I crawled under
the rock, and T'Pring then wore the blankets as sun protection. We
both stunk by this time, even if Vulcans sweat only half as much as
humans did. I wrapped myself in the last blanket and went into a
troubled sleep.

It was dark by the time T'Pring woke me, and we ate, drank, kissed,
and set on our way again.

It was hell, and only by washing our broken blisters did we manage to
keep on our way. A waste of water, maybe, but necessary. I couldn't
smell anymore, or taste. I opened a tube of something and ate. Period.
Excepting another tube of Evasberry jelly. That still tasted divine.

During the morning's walk we wore blankets over our heads and back,
for sun protection.

It was that day, when T'Pring had the watch, that the Fremen found us.
Almost.

I heard the first shot, which propelled me upright, and had me
frantically crawling out of my brush-and-tree hide. T'Pring was
standing to the other side of the warped tree bole, sighting the rifle
back the way we'd come. She fired again, the shot loud in the
stillness of late day.

"Where are they?" I asked.

"There," she answered, then fired again. I hadn't even known, really,
she could fire an antique like that. I had my rifle up by that time,
looking for our pursuers.

"I'll try to flank them," I told her. "Cover me, give me covering
fire, and I'll try to drive them off."

T'Pring fired again, then she put the rifle down, butt first.

"There is no need. All four Fremen are now dead."

I'd been steeling myself to kill one or two and acquire their ghosts,
but T'Pring had acted instead.

In the end we carefully approached the Fremen's last location, and
inspected the remains.

All four had been shot in the head. Their bodies had lost bowel
control, and the head shots spread a lot of brain and etc. around.
Already they were drawing flies. Middle of a desert, and there's
flies. The smell would be unbelievable in hours.

I was really impressed by T'Pring's marksmanship. She said all Vulcans
were capable of being perfect marksmen, at least with a larger weapon
like a rifle that allowed for proper aiming.

I was beginning to see T'Pring more as a butch than a femme after that
little display. And feeling that I'd bitten off more female than I had
a ghost of a chance of being the Dom over.

She explained that as these sentient humanoids were obviously intent
on inflicting great bodily harm on both of us, up to and including
death, she felt justified in terminating their lives.

Wonderfully practical sort of pacifistic philosophy this Vulcan had if
it allowed lethal response in a life-threatening situation.

The deceased Fremen had a treasure trove of goodies on them.

Socks. Nice big beautiful (if smelly) soft heavy socks. They didn't
need them any longer.

More water. Food, more iron rations, including a half-dozen sweet
jellies of various fruits. And their hooded jibella's would be ever
more practical than wearing blankets. We wasted a canteen of their
water in washing them first. T'Pring suggested washing them in loose
sand first, brushing that off, and then washing them. Seemed to get
most of the blood and etc. out.

My desert-wise Vulcan. I was proud of her.

The real prize was a small flat box containing medical aids and
bandages.

First thing we did was burn and medicate our blisters with some cream
that worked immediate wonders. We used a little on our noses and
cheeks, and my knee. Don't laugh. Black skinned humans like me get
sunburn too. It just didn't show in the same way it did on T'Pring's
olive skin.

We were on our way within minutes of easing our almost-pain-free feet
into socks and our boots. Maybe the sandals two of the Fremen were
wearing was the better way to go, so we carried them along. Later on
we'd try wearing them, see how practical they were. For now we took
another mouthful of water and left. The two small Comm units they had
carried along were just so much mangled plastic and circuitry filches
after a little banging.

It stopped bothering me about the deaths once all three of my own
ghosts had chimed in, stating it was necessary and helpful to our
chances of success. We were going to make it now.

We found a shallow cave with overhang, and decided to sleep for a few
hours, into the night, before continuing.

I woke to T'Pring's kisses. Nice way to wake up.

"We are going to walk more to the south now," she said. "We will reach
a spring tomorrow before nightfall, early, and the next night we will
be at a Vulcan villa."

It felt nice with my new sweetheart rubbing herself over me.

"How did you figure that out?" I teased.

"They told me," she said, waving a hand to our front.

Three Goblins shuffled a little in our cave mouth, then turned and
howled at the moon.

---

Goblins were more than a pair of meters tall, and that's the stunted
ones. Two and a half meters was more like it. Their faces looked they
had been wax masks once, but had melted in the sun. The eyes
(bivisual) and nasal openings were lost in the vertical gashes, and
the mouth folded over onto itself when not in use. In effect, they
could button close their head openings when bad weather hit. Like a
sandstorm.

Their arms and legs ended in dewlap cutting spurs, meaning they had
formidable natural defenses. But their prehensile hands had opposable
thumbs and they made tools and clothes. Intelligent. They each carried
a harness, and one had a dressed sun-dried carcass in a bag. Creature
unknown, but half again as big as a Terran jackrabbit.

They also had slings at the end of sticks. I'd seen slings like that
back in my Youth Leader days, and they could be quite lethal for
hundreds of meters. Ammunition, in the form of stones, were
everywhere.

What I hadn't known about Goblins was that they were moderately
telepathic. Nothing so usable as what the Vulcans had, but they could
read minds and talk via mind touch with my companion.

The Vulcans had been building their Villas on the edge of the Reserve
in part so that they could mind commune with the Goblins. They would
sit beside their villas, little springs bubbling outside their walls.
Attracting Goblins and their small prey. And the Vulcans would mind
chit-chat with their big ugly neighbors. Vulcans being Vulcans they
hadn't said much to the humans about the Goblins being mildly
telepathic.

It wasn't exactly a secret. It was just that no one had happened to
ask the Vulcans if the Goblins could telepathize.

Goblins had long necks and furry-feathery bodies, with legs with shins
half again as thick as their thighs. Their genitals were evidently
interior, because I'd been thinking they were females, but T'Pring
said two of them were male.

To my surprise T'Pring stripped completely for them, and wallowed all
over them like a child with three giant teddy bears. Each of them did
mildly obscene things with my Vulcan girl, but she giggled throughout.
They were just curious, she said.

This bunch were from deep in the outback, and had never met a Vulcan
before. Or a black-skinned human. They were on a journey to see a
Vulcan, any Vulcan at all, when they ran across us. Fremen they
avoided. Not nice creatures, they said to T'Pring. Tell me about it.

Egged on by her, I joined her in becoming a nude pet. They were
fascinated by my much darker skin. Frankly I got excited being fondled
by them. I liked being fondled, in a friendly fashion. A girl just
wants to have fun. These Goblins were fun, and made these immensely
sorrowful moans throughout their examinations, indicating joy. I felt
protected and safe with them.

They also usually avoided humans. Humans thought in terms of zoos and
hunting trophies. T'Pring and I thought in terms of survival, lust,
love and gentleness. They weren't bothered by T'Pring's successful
assassination of our Fremen stalkers. They understood the concept of
self-defense. They too were pacifistic towards humanoids, but could
kill if unavoidable and necessary.

They'd been studying the two of us for a while. Since T'Pring and
myself had escaped from the Fremen kidnappers. They'd watched us have
sex, and hoped we'd do it again soon. They'd gotten the fun vibes from
our lust, and enjoyed them. They wanted encores. A Goblin just wanted
to have fun.

All this through my Vulcan translator.

What was immensely pleasing was their offer to carry us onward in our
quest for water and civilization. They were big enough to do that. We
both examined the idea, weighing the pluses and minuses before
agreeing. Took us about three seconds.

A fireman's carry wasn't very comfortable, but once we'd tried sitting
on the tops and backs of their necks, we both knew relief. Just from
being off our feet. G'ap horsey!

Eventually their gait rolled us around enough to the point where the
insides of our thighs got worn and painful. Then we all walked for a
while. Their fur wasn't very silky, but that wasn't their fault. Using
Fremen blankets as a sort of saddle helped, but we were glad to come
up against a series of ancient weathered Vishnu basalt outcroppings.

A small stream wandered a klick or so down hill, beginning with a
wonderfully sputtering spring of clear COLD water. The Goblins
helpfully dug a pool for us past the rock surfaces, one deep enough
for us to bathe in. Eventually a small shallow pool formed there.
T'Pring and I wallowed in it, and then dried off with our smelly
clothes. I couldn't remember feeling quite so clean before.

Goblins sweat in their lungs, or something like that. They smelled of
dirty fur and that was that. Not a bad smell, really.

We were definitely going to make it now! To celebrate we laid down
nude on our blankets, on sand still hot from the day, and I tried to
ignore the fact the Goblins were eavesdropping on us through T'Pring's
randy and willing mind.

Her pussy was as sweet as Evasberry jelly with blueberries. So okay,
an exaggeration. But not much of one.

The relief, the lifting of strain from our minds, was cataclysmic. We
were liberated, we had life ahead of us, the night was cold, and
T'Pring's ankles waved in the air as I feasted on her delightful
groin.

It was party time. She had a gorgeous pussy.

Her pubic hairs were straight, and there weren't very many of them.
They were such fine, small, soft hairs. I could weave my fingers or my
tongue through them for hours. She tasted subtly different, she
tasted.... How should I know? After a few days in the desert she
tasted like the essence of every beautiful woman in the quadrant.
Sweet, fragrant, smoothed, nectar.

Just before her first wonderful come, I said she could ejaculate on
me. She did, and I drank her down as if she gave me the water of youth
itself. She moaned and squirmed and sighed deeply, before lightly
crossing her delicate feet upon my neck.

When I looked up, it was to see the Goblins centimeters from my face,
watching my face gleam with T'Pring's juices in the moonlight. She was
petting both their splotchy skulls of two, and gazing down at me with
such a smile on her face that it shone in the darkness.

At the time I didn't give a damn. We were going to make it now, and
the Goblins were our friends. One of them had just carried me ninety
klicks, and you gotta like someone who'd put themselves out like that.
All without wanting to get me in bed.

The three rocked back on their haunches, and howled loudly at the moon
in the sky. Sort of all-purpose howling. Having fun howling. I felt
like joining them, and almost did. Instead I brought my mouth to
T'Pring's groin and once more began eating her incredible pussy. She
murmured non-stop.

This time, though, T'Pring moved us, interrupted me, squirming until
each of our bodies were side to side, head to pussy.

Not my favorite position, I kept losing track of what I was doing as
it got better and better for me. Or else had trouble coming myself
while I concentrated on my lady's pleasure.

It worked good, this time. Maybe it was T'Pring's telepathic abilities
that brought us into synch. I think we became linked through our minds
and our pussies.

Telepathy as a sexual aid. Oh God, it was good!!!

Afterwards the Goblins asked if we wanted to join them in howling at
the moon. They said my three friends could join them, us. They'd
consider it a favor. After being on display, I was suddenly too
self-conscious, but we wished them good voice. They went off a bit, to
spare our ears, but I was asleep before they finished howling.

We slept as babes in each others arms. The Goblins rolled our blankets
around us, and protected us. They were our friends. They also enjoyed
squash and soy concentrate with pork by-products.

Bon appetite!

In the light of dawn a large flic alighted beside us. I was suddenly
afraid, but the Goblins cued us to be non-afraid.

Later, when we were on the flight back to the Capital, we discovered
our Goblins had relayed news of us to other Goblins, and they'd
informed the nearest Vulcan where we were. He'd commed the Chef de
Police, and that sane notable had deputized Rick to go get us. End of
story.

Otherwise the local government was still in committee, trying to
decide what to do about our kidnapping. It had been Rick and my boss,
Judisar, who had been out looking for us. I was impressed. Rick had
stopped worrying about money and was worrying about me, and the other
victims.

T'Pring could find our cave, and I had images of the Space Marines
tossing in a few dozen Sleep-Nite gas cannisters, and accidentally
stomping the hell out of the Fremen during a rescue. Yeoman Colt
wished she could get a few licks in.

I had to remind T'Pring to get into some clothes for our guests. Not
that I didn't appreciate that exquisite body prancing on top of the
rocks. It was just a matter of manners. And jealousy.

Anyways, the first person out of the flic was Rick, the owner of the
Casablanca Cafe' and the second was my boss, Harold Judisar.

On second thought, fuck the clothes. These weren't just rescuers, they
were friends.

It was very gratifying to feel Rick growing wood for me, poking me in
my nude hip. I must have looked like something the Goblins drug in,
but I was happy to see this man, and he was happy to see me. I turned
around and got the same reaction from my boss. Happiness and wood
poking me in my belly.

I may be a dyke, but I still appreciate a little positive feedback
from a friend.

We both kissed the Goblins before we left. There wasn't much else we
could do for them, or any way to show our appreciation. They were
welcome to all our iron rations.

They'd learnt enough from T'Pring to wave at us as we lifted into the
air, and we waved back. I actually shed a few tears to see them vanish
in the distance.

"Go back!" I shouted, beating on Rick. I was determined, Harold took
one look at my face and practically flipped us in his hurry to return.

I bounced out of the flic when it skidded to a stop, realizing my
Goblins were gone. Already they had disappeared. I sat down on a rock,
feeling more than a little lost. I ignored the hand on my shoulder
until I realized it was big, hairy, ugly, and had a sharp claw at the
wrist. I rose into the welcoming arms of the Goblin, huddling, and crying a little.

T'Pring was beside me, patting me, the other two Goblins touching us
both. I took the hands of two of them, and pointed my face into the
sky.

I howled, and so maybe it was a little unsure at first, but my second
howl was better. This could be fun.

The Goblins joined me then, and T'Pring adding chorus. T'Pring said
the Goblins asked if my three friends wanted to howl also, and they
were welcome if they wished to do so.

They could see my Ghosts.

So we howled at the sky, all of us in good voice. The three Goblins.
T'Pring. Myself. Number One. Commander Gary Mitchell, and Yeoman Colt.

---

End -- the Ghosties & Goblins series