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Chapter 13

"That's a wrap!" Sabtos screamed."Dartan, you were beautiful," he said. Dartan nodded back from where he stood in the fake cavern that had been built in the hallway by hanging a black sheet behind him and spraying foam on the walls, rounding the corners off with it and then cutting, shaping, and painting it so that it looked like rock.

Sabtos walked back into the "war room" and gushed.

"My Queen! What can I say? You were exquisite! Chitzskies, I was totally believing your anger and ability to tear Lockhedes limb from limb." He turned his attention to Lex and clicked his tongue."Lex . . . what the hell were you thinking?"

"That . . . that bumble-fingered grip dropped the cue cards, and I couldn't remember my lines," he said throwing up his hands.

"I thought it was brilliant improvisation," Drewcila said, patting him on the shoulder. Lex made a face at the director and stuck out his tongue.

"How soon will the tanks be done?" Drew asked the director.

"The boys in special effects are wizards. I'd say twelve more hours. Tops," he assured her.

"Good. And the real general tells me the area is well guarded with anti-aircraft guns," Drew said almost to herself.

Van Gar walked over to her, taking off his too tight shirt as he did so, and making her smile appreciatively."I don't get it, Drew. Why are you pulling protection away from real targets to protect fake tanks?"

"All shall soon be revealed." She looked from Arcadia to Van Gar."Whose turn?"

"Mine," Arcadia said with a smile.

"All right. Come on, I need a recharge." She looked back at Van Gar."Meet you in about . . ." she looked back at Arcadia.

"Hour and a half."

'. . . in the dining room. We'll all have dinner." She kissed Van Gar on the cheek, took Arcadia's claw and started dragging her out of the room."You know, this is just twisted enough that it might work."

 

As Tryte walked into Ralling's office, he was already explaining himself. "The computer has located the area in which the tanks supposedly are. Mr. President, I think I can say without fear of contradiction that the Barion's report is no less a fabrication than our own. I have already ordered reconnaissance to fly out and see if they can send us back proof that these so-called tanks even exist."

"And if they do, what then? You assured me that we had a military advantage. Now the Queen of Barious has a Chitzsky army and thousands of tanks heading towards our borders."

Trailings walked in then without knocking, further adding to Ralling's irritation."My gods, man! Will you now make peace with this woman before she kills us all?"

Tryte glared at Trailings."Surely even you know that this was nothing but bold faced lies . . ."

"What I know is it was no accident that the broadcast we just saw was sent out on such a strong signal that it knocked out every other station on the planet. I know it was no accident that she pretended to feel the plight of our people, or that she purposely reminded them that you were not elected by them. She is trying to tear us apart from the inside out. Even if there is no Chitzsky army lying in wait. Even if there aren't acres of tanks. You couldn't match wits with this woman if she was in a coma—and she's not."

"So what do you suggest I do, Trailings?" Ralling hissed back.

"What I've been saying all along. Make peace with Barious, accept trade agreements on their terms."

"You are a traitor, Trailings. You want us to give our country over to that Salvaging Whore because you know if we try to work with her, if we make deals with her, it won't be long 'til she's taken over here the way she's taken over Barious. Then she'll be running our country as well."

"And that would be so terrible? Why? Oh, I know . . . because everyone would have proper food, and housing, and health care. The lives of our people are in peril as you stand here and worry about such unimportant things as who's going to be in charge. Wouldn't you rather be a simple citizen in a thriving country than President of a dead one?"

Ralling seemed to think about that a minute before he answered with a simple and truthful, "No."

 

Sortas now found himself working in the kitchen doing dishes. There seemed to be a never-ending pile of them. He had never thought about how many dishes a staff large enough to serve the palace must make. For the first time, he thought about the people who must normally do these dishes. He had worked days in the palace, going home at night unless some emergency kept him here. His primary duty was to care for the queen and king, as well as the chancellors, but his duties occasionally extended to tending the injuries and illnesses of the household staff and guards—particularly if the injury occurred at work.

He'd never actually bothered to talk to any of them, just treated them and sent them on their way. After all, they were beneath him. Now one of them was barking orders at his back, enjoying the task immensely, and Sortas could hardly blame him. After all, when Sortas had been above this man, he had treated him in the same manner—like a slave.

How many dishes had he dirtied in the years he'd worked here? He'd never once thought about the man or woman who had to wash them. Whether they'd had dreams, aspirations, things they wanted to do with their lives that didn't include cleaning up after other people.

This queen was more than just cunning and resourceful. The woman was wise. And he only now realized that she was also fair. It didn't really match the reputation she had built for herself with the nobles and most of the galaxy. She could blow all she wanted, but when it came right down to it, she cared deeply about what happened to the people—all of the people. The common people of Barious had embraced her as ruler because they had known this all along.

In the end, it turned out that the commoners were smarter than those of noble birth, and that was perhaps the hardest pill for him to swallow.

"You, soap boy!" His foreman popped him on the rear with a wet towel."The queen is calling for more beer in the formal dining room. Run it out there."

"But, sir . . ."

"You aren't going to talk back to me, are you, boy?"

"No . . . no, sir."

"Bring out a six pack. It's in the refrigerator. Get the bottles, she doesn't like the cans."

He got the beer, his hands shaking the whole time. If the queen saw him, she'd recognize him. And if she didn't, it was a sure bet the lizard woman would. Then the queen would no doubt have him executed on the spot. One of the guards opened the door for him, which was good, because in his state if he'd had to do it himself he probably would have dropped his precious cargo. One of the guards had told him that even before all of the recent occurrences, dropping and breaking a full bottle of beer had been reason for dismissal. He could only wonder at the punishment that would be heaped upon the head of he who broke an entire six pack! Of course, he was most likely walking to his death anyway. But why add insult to injury? There was always some hope that mercy might bring about a swift departure from this world.

The guard followed him out, totally washing all thoughts of a possible escape from his mind.

"Put that puppy right here," Drewcila said, pounding her fist on the table beside her. He assumed she meant the beer, since when he looked around he seemed to be the only one bearing any cargo. He tried to keep his face down as he did so, and was careful to make eye contact with no one, but it didn't help.

"You!" Drewcila thundered in an accusing voice.

Sortas quickly set the beer down on the table where indicated. Then he dropped to his knees on the floor, bowing till his forehead touched the ground."My queen, please! A thousand pardons! When I had realized the error of my ways, I did try to set things right."

To his dismay she laughed."When you saw you'd chosen the losing side, and that the castle was about to be overrun by the very people you so despised, you did the only thing you could do to save your own ass. Why, if I hadn't continually poisoned myself by drinking large, most probably lethal, amounts of alcohol over the course of my life, and if I hadn't gotten to a hospital where they administered the antidote to the poison, I would have been very ill for many more days."

He raised his head and looked into her eyes, searching for even a slight glimmer of mercy there."The words you speak are true, my queen, but I swear to you, had I to do it over again, I would throw all my support behind you and serve you. If you but give me a chance, I shall live out my life in service to you, even if it means washing dishes the rest of my days."

"Who is this butt-kissing scum bucket?" the Chitzsky male called Van Gar asked.

"He's the doctor who withheld treatment from our woman," the lizard woman answered.

"You know what, guys? That was only funny like the first fifty times you did it."

"We still think it's funny," the Chitzsky and the lizard woman said at the same time.

"And I asked you to quit doing that," Drewcila hissed, apparently at least momentarily forgetting him. She looked down the table to where her sister was picking at her dinner."What do you think, Stasha?"

"They seem to be getting along very well, and you all seem happy with the arrangement, so maybe you shouldn't worry about something as trivial as the fact that they suddenly seem to be sharing a brain as well."

"As interesting as it is, I wasn't talking about my love life. I was talking about Dr. I'm-not-going-to-give-you-the-antidote-so-that-you-puke-up-small-organs-you're-most-probably-still-using."

He looked appealingly at Stasha. He had treated Stasha for many years, and felt he had a rapport with her. Besides, she was no doubt still angry over Drew shooting Zarco in the leg.

Stasha shrugged."I don't know. I can't think about anything but the funeral."

"How's that coming?"

"All right I guess. Mother and father are coming in tomorrow. They aren't terribly happy about having a Chitzsky for a neighbor, but said they were happy that at least you weren't slinging them into the streets with the rest of their friends."

"Yeah, well, you tell them I want a birthday present this year, or that could change real quick."

"I think we should kill him," Arcadia said, fixing him with a stare that made his blood run cold. She got up and started moving towards him. Sortas steeled himself for the coming attack, but the Chitzsky grabbed the lizard woman's shoulder and stopped her forward progress.

"I have a better idea," Van Gar said, and fixed his eyes on the ugliest creature Sortas had ever seen, who was sitting halfway down the table.

The lizard woman let out a laugh, then yelled, "Hey, Shreta! Come here!"

The creature got up and lumbered over to them."What do you think of this one?" Van Gar asked.

"He doesn't have much hair."

"So?" Van Gar asked.

"He's kind of dirty and old."

"Shit! He'll clean, girl," Van Gar said."Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'Beggars can't be choosers'?"

"Yeah, you got a point there," Shreta said. She looked him up and down."Could I maybe see his down-below?"

"Yes, that's reasonable. Sortas, rise and show us all your down-below," Drewcila said with a broad hand gesture and a smile.

Sortas got to his feet, "My Queen, I'm afraid I don't understand . . ."

For answer, the queen poked her finger at his crotch.

"Your package, Sortas. You said you'd serve me the rest of your life if I would pardon you. Well, it seems we've found you a suitable position, and the lady wants to see your package."

Sortas looked the ugly woman up and down as he realized what they had in store for him."But, my queen . . ."

Drewcila's blaster seemed to all but fly from its holster, and then she was pointing it at his head."Drop your pants, show us your goodies, or die."

Sortas wouldn't have thought he could have exposed himself any faster. The creature looked at his privates, licked her lips, and smiled. The queen nodded, and he pulled his pants up and fastened them, feeling as humiliated as he was sure he could feel . . . until the huge hair-covered creature grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him out of the room screaming, "Come on, baby! Mamma's gonna ride you like a bull!"

"Noooooo!"

 

"Well?" Ralling asked as Tryte walked in flanked by the generals of the Army and Navy.

"There are tanks, lots of tanks. We can't really say how many, though. We saw aerial photos, but . . . well, they also have anti-aircraft guns, and . . ." He cleared his throat and continued, "We've sent out three piloted planes and six drones, and none of them have been able to do more than get a couple of pictures back before they were blown out of the sky."

"So . . . why am I getting the feeling that you somehow think all of this is good news?" Ralling asked.

"Well, sir, because we know right where they are, and they couldn't possibly have many more tanks. It shows that while she may be a good public speaker, she is a lousy general. I'd say she's put all her tanks and those Chitzsky ground troops all in the same place, and we know where that is. So, we send a full aerial assault, and in three or four passes we've wiped them out completely. We cripple their ground capabilities, and without that they can't fight a successful campaign. They're expecting us to hit one of their bases, and then they're going to hit Yeoul base in retaliation with these weapons and troops. But they can't do that if the target we hit are the troops they plan to retaliate with. Her military ignorance will be her undoing. That General of hers is far too pretty to be any good. He gives great speeches, but he's no strategist."

"Tryte . . . if we go to bomb these tanks and the alien ground troops, and we fail, I'll see you court-martialed and hung before I sign a treaty with Drewcila Qwah. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. President. I won't let you down this time."

 

Sortas had never taken such a long shower in his life, but it hadn't stopped the inevitable. He walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist into a room so dark he couldn't really see where he was going.

"I figured it would be easier for you this way," she said.

"Thanks," he answered back. He steeled himself, threw off the towel, stumbled through the dark, and crawled in bed with the huge female, who was easily six inches taller than he was. It was really dark, and it was true that that made it easier, but she was still covered with hair. Of course, when he let himself get over the initial shock of it, he had to admit that it actually felt pretty good against his skin.

"You don't really have to do this if you don't want to," she said in a quiet voice."I understand, and I'll tell them that you did."

"No! I mean, I told the queen I'd serve her if she would spare my life, and if this is what I must do to please her . . ."

"Ride me, stud boy, ride!" she ordered, and because he felt like he was being forced to do this, he tossed all his inhibitions aside. He did things with the Chitzsky female that he'd never done with any Barion woman and she did things to him that he'd never imagined possible.

It turned out this wasn't nearly the punishment they had all intended, so that part he'd have to fake.

 

The door to Drewcila's office—also known as the "war room" in the underground bunker—was open as it normally was. What wasn't normal, even for Drew, was that she seemed to be having an intense conversation with . . . well, with no one. When Van Gar stopped in the doorway, she looked startled, but much to his astonishment she just kept talking to herself.

"Yes, well, you just do a good, quick, clean job of it, and I'll give you twice that on your return. Do it at the exact moment I want it done, and I'll triple the amount." She stood up then and seemed to shake hands with the air. She sat back down."Be careful." She waved, and then her eyes returned to the desk in front of her. Van Gar walked on in, and looked around to see if the director or some of the camera crew were there. Seeing nothing, he laughed and sat down in the chair across from Drewcila."Drew . . . what the hell were you just doing?"

"It's not important. Hey, listen . . . When are the first of our ships getting here with your people as crew?"

"Half of them will be here in another couple of hours, tops. Why?"

Instead of answering him, Drewcila got up and started pacing, making symbols in the air and occasionally erasing them with her fist as she did so. At least this was normal behavior. Drewcila was like a walking calculator, and she could figure out even the most complex problems—especially when it concerned money—in just this way. More amazing, Drew could do things a computer really couldn't do as accurately. Drew knew beings, and she knew what they were capable of. More importantly, she seemed to know what they were likely to do, how they would or would not react to a given situation. She stopped suddenly in mid-calculation and looked at him.

"All right, get on the horn. Tell them to gather here," she pointed to a spot on the map, "in the space just out of the atmosphere, and hopefully out of Lockhede detector range. They shouldn't be expecting an attack from deep space, so we should be OK. When we give them the signal, they are to go here," she pointed to a spot on the planet map, "without delay, and open fire. I don't want anything to fly away."

Van Gar nodded and moved to the console, where he'd no doubt be the rest of the day, grumbling, "Good morning, it's good to see you, too."

Drew just laughed and mostly ignored him. She didn't have time to mollycoddle anyone this morning. She was at war. She called the admiral of the imperial fleet, who, when his face appeared on her screen, looked as if she might have gotten him out of bed. She just clicked her tongue and shook her head to show her disapproval. In this outfit she looked so damn intimidating she didn't really have to do anything else.

"My queen . . . I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, be ready," she said, working at keeping the smile from her face with an effort. This really was just a hell of a lot of fun."Do we know the position of the last two Lockhede battle cruisers?"

"We believe so, yes."

"Don't believe so, know. Find them, and then at precisely twenty-hundred hours I want you to take every available ship in our fleet and pound them till they fall from the sky."

"But, my queen . . ."

"But me no buts, man. This is war. We don't have time for buts. By twenty-two hundred hours I want those ships to be nothing but burning husks littering the planet. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, my queen, but surely . . ."

"What did I tell you about the buts?"

"My queen, if we attack them with every ship in the fleet, that will leave the rest of the country without defense from an aerial strike," the admiral objected.

"Are there no ground to air missiles? Are there no anti-aircraft guns?" Drewcila thundered."Did it sound like I was asking? Because I wasn't. That was an order, and you have to do what I say because . . . well, because I'm queen and all."

The admiral bowed low, and answered, "Yes of course, my queen, your every wish is my command. Please pardon my ignorance, for I know that your great wisdom shall lead us to victory."

The transmission ended. As Arcadia walked into the room and took her place behind her own computer console she looked at Van Gar, "Did you hear that drivel? Is it any wonder that her head is so incredibly swollen?"

Van Gar just mumbled something incoherent and nodded.

"A little respect, peasant," Drewcila said with a laugh.

Arcadia laughed and started keyboarding."Woo hoo! Take a look at this baby." She transferred the data from her screen to Drew's.

Drew read the numbers and started laughing.

"Well?" Van Gar asked.

"Qwah-Co stock is on the rise again," Arcadia announced.

Drew got up and started pacing."Yes, Qwah-Co stock is on the rise, even though the entire operation has come to a near halt because of this war. Do you know what that means?"

"That you're no longer losing money?" Van Gar answered.

Drewcila stopped pacing and turned to glare at him."Besides that?"

"I can't guess, but I'm sure you're dying to tell me."

"It means I'm going to win the war. My plan is going to work, and the war will be over by tomorrow afternoon."

"You've garnered all that information from the fact that your stocks are on the rise again?" Van Gar asked skeptically.

"Hey! Stockholders are never wrong." She sat down and made another call, this time to the "real" general of the Barion army. Unlike his naval counterpart, this man was fully dressed, alert, and ready for action.

"General, good news! My stock is up. That means we shall be triumphant in battle."

"Uh . . . all right."

"That's right, everything is all right. Now, here's the plan." She lined it all out for him in great detail, ending with, '. . . after they have pounded the area for several minutes, they will fly out, and that's when you will move in. You will sweep the area, taking prisoners and killing any who resist until that area is clean. Then you will hold that ground until the Lockhedes either surrender or we are forced to move further inward."

"I understand, and will carry out all your plans, my Queen."

The transmission closed, and Drewcila started laughing. When her laughter failed to get the attention of either of her mates, she laughed more maniacally until they both turned to give her their undivided attention.

"That's better." She stopped laughing."Those Lockhede bastards. They failed to understand who they were up against. They looked at our country and saw that we were militarily inferior to them, but they failed to understand the strength of my company. By combining the strength of the country with the strength of my corporation we will slam those bastards back into the stone age."

"Was that really necessary, or did you just need to gloat?" Van Gar asked, returning to his work.

"Hey! Gloating's necessary."

 

Dartan walked in, minus the film crew. The queen appeared to be in deep thought."My Queen, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I was wondering if you'd like me to make any sort of report for you this morning, or if you'd perhaps like to make a statement before you go to the funeral."

She seemed to think about this for a moment, then looked at him and said, "I don't think people should actually say anything during orgasm. What do you think, Dartan?"

Dartan was more than a little taken aback, and he didn't appreciate at all the giggling from the two aliens, who were no doubt laughing at his expense."Excuse me, my Queen?"

"When you're having orgasm, you just sort of open your mouth and words come out. You know, things like, 'Give it to me, give it to me!' Well, obviously they already are. Then there's the ever-popular begging, as in, 'Please, baby! Please!' As if they're going to stop doing something that's obviously working. And what about the, 'Oh gods! Oh my gods!' It just seems to me like that's a strange time to become religious. And what's with the whole saying everything twice thing? Do you just assume that they didn't hear you the first time? The problem is, of course, that you aren't thinking anything, because there is no blood in your brain. So, what have we learned?"

"I . . . I'm not really sure?" Dartan said in confusion.

"That you shouldn't speak during orgasm," Arcadia and Van Gar said in unison, which made the queen cringe.

She recovered quickly, "Yes, that's exactly right."

Dartan still didn't understand."Is that to be a royal decree then?"

"Most certainly not! We are at war. We can't be wasting our time with such trivial pursuits. It was just an observation. What was it you wanted again?"

"My Queen, the funeral. It's in a few hours, and . . ."

"I just said I can't be bothered with such trivial things."

"Do you maybe want to say a few words about your dear, departed husband?"

"I would, but I'm afraid none of them would help my popularity with the people of Barious. Between you and me, Dartan, he was sort of a prick. My sister will be playing me today . . ."

"Your sister? I . . . I don't understand."

"My sister, Stasha. She will be playing the role of myself in today's production of The Funeral Of A Well-Loved King, while I will be dealing with more important matters."

"Like whether or not people should talk while they're screwing," Van Gar mumbled. He and Arcadia both laughed, and Drew glared at their backs across the room before turning back to Dartan.

"Like the war and such. The director has gone all out, a large cast has been hired, and I'm told it will be the most beautiful of funerals."

 

 

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