Recycled (21 page)

They were battle ready, and he said as much as they followed them down the hall with their cameras.

"My Queen, you look as if you are ready for anything . . ."

"Can't talk now. Busy," Drewcila said waving her hand in the air dismissively.

"But, my Queen . . ."

The lizard woman turned on him and hissed, at which point he threw up his hands and backed away.

"My sister is having a breakdown. I will call for you when I'm ready to address the nation. In the meantime, color some pictures, or study flash cards . . . you know—busy work."

Surprisingly, Dartan, who normally would have thrown a fit over being treated in such a manner, wasn't upset at all."As you wish, my Queen."

Atario looked out at the sea of angry citizens rioting outside the castle walls. He had just made yet another speech on TV, discrediting Drewcila and trying to defend all his recent policy decisions. He had even replayed the speech Zarco had given, telling the people that he wanted them to take up arms and smite—that was the word he used—the Lockhedes. If they were watching that channel at all—and from the mob outside he doubted anyone was watching anything but the long line of propaganda Drewcila and her people were feeding the other station—they weren't listening. And if they were listening, they weren't buying it.

He could tell that the news crew he had with him were close to bolting. They didn't want to be forever seen as the network that had helped the hated nobles in their attempt to take over the kingdom. The head reporter had said as much, at which point Atario had him carted off to the dungeon.

"You'd better think of something, Atario, and you had better think of it fast," Sortas hissed at his shoulder."Several nobles have been dragged from their homes and beaten to death in these riots. Many of those who stood with us fled before we raised the gates in an effort to distance themselves from us and to save themselves. Several others have hanged themselves rather than face the wrath of the mob. The gates—even the walls—will not hold forever, and there's word that the military is standing down, waiting until they have orders from the queen . . ."

"You act as if this is all my fault. It is not. It is yours. You had a chance to kill her. If you had killed her, she . . . none of them would have escaped, and my plan would have worked brilliantly. If anyone is to blame, it's you . . . only you," Atario accused.

Sortas laughed, though he was obviously not amused."Like the people, you give this salvaging whore way too much credit. She was slowing her friends down in their escape. Without her, they still would have escaped, and we'd be facing a mob angry because we'd killed both monarchs, not just one. How would you have explained it away? If both of them were dead, who would you have blamed then?"

"If she was dead, there would have been no reason for me to kill Zarco."

Sortas smiled smugly then and whispered to Atario."I believe the salvagers call it saving my own ass." He looked back towards a closet in the back of the room."You boys get that?"

The reporter that Atario had locked up and a camera man stepped out of the now open closet door."Every bit of it, and it went out on live feed."

"Why you!" Atario launched himself at Sortas, and felt something hot and painful pierce his chest. He hit the floor with a thud. Looking up, he saw the blaster in Sortas' hand.

"I thought he had a gun," Sortas said in an agonized voice.

He might fool them, but he didn't fool Atario, at least not this time.

Atario died, and Sortas and the newsmen used his body as part of the barricade they stacked against the door to save them from the remaining nobles. Once the door was secured, the news team went about trying to save their own asses.

By the time Drewcila reached the room, Stasha had given up her fight—although it was clear by the shiner and the ripped clothes hanging on Facto's sweat covered, scratched-up body, that she had put up quite a fight—and was just sitting in the middle of the floor in a huddled mass, crying.

"Ah," Drew said, not without real compassion. She knelt beside her sister and put her hand on her shoulder."I'm really sorry, Stasha. I know you loved him . . ." Stasha shoved her, and because of the way she was perched on her feet, Drew fell right over, landing unceremoniously and very un-monarch like on her butt. Arcadia rushed to help Drew to her feet.

"I hate you! I hate you! You killed him. You said you wouldn't, and then you did," Stasha said accusingly.

"Facto! My sister is upset. Quick, go now, draw from the pool of assholes, and bring her someone to flog!"

"How can you make jokes after what you've done?" Stasha cried.

"I didn't kill him. I shot him a little, but I didn't kill him," Drew defended.

"I know you murdered him. You don't have to lie about it. Just get away from me, or murder me, too, and have it over with."

"That's a little dramatic, even for you, Stasha," Drew said, losing patience with her sister."I didn't murder him. You ought to know me well enough by now to know that. If I'd killed him, I'd crow and do a little dance about it. I might lie to the public, but I wouldn't lie to you . . . Well, I would, but not about this. I mean . . . come on! I shot him right in front of you! That's got to mean something."

"Exactly! And as soon as I wasn't looking, you killed him."

"Drewcila left before Jurak and I did, and he was still alive when Jurak and I left," Arcadia said helpfully.

"You . . . Why on earth would I believe you? Like every male creature who falls within her aura, you are completely and totally infatuated by her. You'd kill for her, so why on earth wouldn't you lie for her?"

Drew looked at Arcadia."She's got you there, chick."

"I tried," Arcadia shrugged.

"Come on, Stasha, use a little common sense. This guy was a bastard. He wanted to treat me like a possession. He treated you like dog shit. He didn't give a flying donkey dick about the country. And as if all of that wasn't bad enough, the guy was a lousy lay. I guarantee, you get you one good fuck . . ."

"You killed the man I love, and now you find it necessary to remind me that you had sex with him."

"Gods! Is there no winning with you?" Drew sighed deeply."I screwed him, and I shot him, but I sure as fuck didn't kill him. If you keep screaming that I did, then someone's going to hear you, and there's a very good chance that you'll wind up helping the person who really did kill the egg-headed bastard. I have to go save the country now. You just lay here and wallow in your self-pity. I have better things to do . . . Arcadia?"

Drew turned and left, and Arcadia followed her out, not that Arcadia really needed to be ordered.

Facto secured the door behind them. Margot got the sheet, brought it over and covered Stasha with it. Stasha buried her face in Margot's shoulder and just cried.

Drew sat down behind her desk in her office. She started keyboarding as Arcadia sat in a chair on the other side of the desk and just watched her.

"Finally a little good news. The Garbage Scow has just docked. Atario's dead. Good. The bastard poisoned me and killed Zarco."

Arcadia cleared her throat."Ah, Drew, you poisoned yourself."

"Oh yeah, but it was his fault."

"Actually, it was Zarco who locked you up."

"Yeah, that's right."

"Atario killed Zarco, but since you wanted to kill him, he sort of did you a favor."

"Ah . . . poor Atario," Drew said. She looked across the desk and smiled at Arcadia."Now stop it. It works better if I actually believe my own lies."

Van Gar patched the communication through with a trembling hand. It could be very bad news. Last time he had talked to Hepron Station they still had no news about Drew. His fear turned to adulation when Drew's face appeared on the screen.

"Drewcila! You're alive!" he said stating the obvious.

She smiled."Really? Do you think the others know?" She frowned then, seeming to remember how and why they had parted. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she hissed."Do you have my ship?"

"Yes, yes I do. It's so good to see you . . ."

"Is that my ship you're flying?"

Van Gar swallowed hard."Yes."

"What the fuck did you do to it? Looks like a Hepelon drag queen threw up in there."

"It's a long story . . . It runs fine, no worse for the wear. This can all be fixed, a little paint, a little wall paper." He laughed nervously then added."I'm on my way to Hepron Station, I figured with everything that's going on you could use my help . . ."

"We don't need him here," a familiar voice hissed out.

"Arcadia!" Van Gar answered in a voice dripping with acid.

"Van Gar," she said in an equally disgusted tone.

"Knock it off!" Drew ordered."So . . . what happened with the religious cult? God and goodness and shit not all it's cracked up to be or what?"

Apparently Drewcila was not yet ready to let bygones be bygones, and he wasn't ready to tell her the whole truth. He lowered his voice to a whisper."Drewcila . . . I can't talk about it right now, but I have run the scam of scams, and if you help me out, I'll help you out and split the profit with you seventy-thirty."

"Seventy for me, right?"

"No. Damn it, Drew! Seventy for me, thirty for you."

"Sixty-forty."

"Sixty for me?" Van asked carefully.

"Oh, I guess so," Drew said reluctantly. She smiled."How fast can you be here?"

"Twelve hours tops." He swallowed a little more of his pride."I shouldn't have left. I've missed you, Drewcila."

It looked like she was about to apologize to him, or at the very least tell him she'd missed him, but no such luck."No, you sure as fuck shouldn't have left me, and stealing one of my ships . . . well, that was totally uncalled for!" Drew snapped back and closed the transmission.

Van Gar sighed and relaxed into his chair.

"She's a very beautiful creature," Shreta said behind him, making him jump."I can see why you love her."

Van Gar laughed."Well, I'm glad someone can. Right now I have half a mind to turn this tin can around and go anywhere else in the galaxy."

"But you won't." She walked around to face him."I can see it in your eyes when you talk to her, and I could see it in her eyes when she looked at you." She sighed longingly."No male will ever look at me that way."

"Don't say that, Shreta. You're a nice girl. You have a great personality. Someday some man will . . ." Van Gar looked at her, and the words died on his lips to be replaced by: "They make some really great sex aids. I've heard they're just like the real thing."

"We don't need him here," Arcadia said with a pout.

"Don't start that shit, Arcadia. I want him here," Drew said."No one's hanging a 'property of' sign on my ass. Not him, and not you."

Arcadia nodded silently."I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just don't do it," Drewcila said."You know how I feel about him."

"Yes . . . What I don't know is how you feel about me."

Drew smiled at her."Yes, you do."

President Ralling sat in his office with his chief advisors, thinking how unfortunate it was that the vice-president had decided to attend this meeting. This seemed like about the twelfth strategy discussion they'd had that day, and he wasn't really a strategy kind of guy. He was more a sitting-on-his-ass-reveling-in-the-power-and-passing-stupid-assed-laws-that-only-he-gave-a-crap-about sort of guy.

The vice-president was yelling that they needed to try and negotiate a truce, while all the war-mongering military heads were calling for a blood bath. He was inclined to agree with the military guys, just because they sounded like they knew what they were talking about, and because he hated that idiot Trailings. He was about to tell them all to shut up because he was tired of listening to them, when his aide walked in, bowed then straightened.

"Mr. President . . . The Barion Queen is on line one."

There was a sudden hush in which they all just stared at each other. Finally Trailings said, "We'd better listen to what she has to say."

Ralling nodded and hit the button on his video phone. There she sat, the reigning Barion Queen, flanked by some strange reptilian alien and their country's High Chancellor, Facto.

She was examining her nails, and took several moments to make eye contact. Her way, he supposed, of showing utter contempt for them.

When she spoke she said simply, "Fellows, we've got us a little problem."

"What we've got is a war," Ralling said hotly.

"Hey . . . you started it."

"We asked for trade agreements, and you tossed them in our face," Trailings said.