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Chapter 9

General Tryte looked at the incoming data. Just after nightfall the Barions had started pounding their capital. Their own plans to bomb Hepron Station were thwarted as they pulled their planes and ships back in an effort to save their homeland. But even as their planes got into a position to defend against the attacks, the Barion planes turned and ran away like the cowards they were. They hadn't chased them for fear of leaving the air space over the city unprotected, fully expecting and waiting for a second wave of attacks which never came.

After they had intercepted several newscasts from Barious, Tryte began to wonder whether this was just brilliant war tactics on the part of the Barions, or if Barious was as completely politically crippled as the reports would have them believe. Their king was supposedly dead. Either killed by his treacherous, salvager wife, or the greedy self-serving nobility, depending completely on which channel you chose to watch.

Whatever the case, he as General of the Air Force couldn't afford to drop his guard.

His aide walked into the room, "General Tryte."

"Yes?"

"President Ralling wants to see you in his office."

"I figured he would." He rose from his chair and followed the aide out of his office and down the hall.

They had made all military decisions together—he, the president, the president's advisors, the General of the Army, and Admiral of the Navy. However the "elected"—a term used lightly since everyone was well aware that the social elite chose a candidate and then bought him into office—official had a habit of assigning blame to someone other than himself. Since it had been Tryte's idea to bomb Hepron Station, he was sure it was going to be his fault that they'd had no way of defending their own capitol against that first wave of attacks when they'd come.

Tryte didn't really care. He could roll with the punches. He had no respect at all for this president, whose election seemed even more suspect than elections of the past. The social elite had for generations bought the candidates they wanted, but in the last election the common man had come out in force and refused to vote with the upper classes. The people's candidate had won by a popular landside. That was when the rich started to bring out antiquated laws and dust them off. Before the common folks could say "screwed," their candidate had been thrown out on a technicality, and this joker Ralling had been placed at the head of their country.

Ralling was the idiot offspring of some rich politician. He was Teflon-coated, and crap simply didn't stick to him. However, even if Tryte didn't respect the president, he was glad he'd won, and didn't really care how. As was their law, the loser of the election was their vice-president. Trailings was a highly intelligent man with the people's best interests at heart, and he scared the living shit out of Tryte.

See, Tryte wanted the war. It proved they needed a strong military, and gave him job security. More importantly, he wanted to finally stomp the Barions' asses. In the past they had usually lost wars, just like the last one. But the Barions had gotten soft, and being fat and well fed they weren't in a fighting mood.

Trailings had wanted to make trade agreements with the Barions. It was what he had promised in his campaign, and was the main reason he had won the popular vote so easily. Trying to gain his constituents' approval, Ralling had agreed to work on trade agreements as well. Of course, at the first sign of Barion rejection, and at the general's not-so-gentle urging, he had threatened the Barions with military retaliation, something which the general knew would cause Zarco to go on the attack. When they declared war on Barious, it was way too late for any kind of agreement.

No matter what any of the reports said, and whether he was dead or alive, Tryte knew one thing for a fact. There was no way that Zarco would ever willingly make peace with them. Tryte knew what losing Zarco's wife had done to him. He knew, because he was the one who made and executed the plans to capture, torture, and mentally mutilate the Barion queen. And it was he who had given her to Eric Rider, who had then turned her into Drewcila Qwah.

Now that same Drewcila Qwah had shot his battle cruiser out of the sky, and it looked like there was a very good chance that he was going to wind up going toe-to-toe with her militarily. A deeper man might say that he was reaping what he had sown. General Tryte just wished he had killed the bitch when he'd had the chance.

 

When he entered the president's office, the other generals and the vice-president were already there.

"Glad you could make it, General," Ralling said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Sorry I'm late," Tryte said, although he couldn't really see how the hell he could be late since he had come as soon as he'd been summoned. It was always a good idea to kiss a little political ass. The president waved him into a seat, and he sat down.

"What the hell happened?" the president demanded.

All the generals and the vice-president started talking at once.

"One at a time!" Ralling screamed."You," he pointed at Tryte."What went wrong? We were supposed to be bombing Hepron Station last night, and instead they're bombing our capital. The capitol building has taken extensive damage. My wife and I barely escaped with our lives. Six skyscrapers were hit. They're saying an estimated twenty thousand people are dead. The whole country's screaming."

Trailings didn't give Tryte a chance to answer, which just proved to Tryte what a rude bastard he actually was."I told you. I told all of you that it was wrong to attack the Barions. They have slaughtered us out right in the last three wars. That has left our country in financial and military ruin . . ."

"With all due respect," Tryte bit out."The Barions are in a very vulnerable position. They have scrapped out most of their military equipment . . ."

"So you've said. Meanwhile they are stomping us, and our people are going hungry and getting killed, for what? We aren't going to force them to do anything. We need the trade agreements."

"When we totally annihilate them, we will have their trade agreements," Tryte said, his face getting red.

"What are we going to annihilate them with?" Trailings demanded."The only attacks we have successfully deployed are a few minor border skirmishes and a lot of idle threats."

"There is nothing idle about our threats." Tryte could now feel his heart racing in his chest."We are militarily superior. While we have continued to build our war machine, they have been tearing theirs apart."

"I see no proof of that," Trailings said.

"Well I do," the president said with conviction. The stupid bastard knew nothing about the military, and had no doubt been going to ream Tryte out good 'til he saw that Trailings was attacking him. Since Ralling hated Trailings, Tryte suddenly found himself in the pleasant position of being—at least temporarily—the golden haired boy."What should our next move be, Tryte?"

"You're actually asking this moron?" Trailings said in disbelief."So far he's managed to get one of our battle cruisers destroyed and our capital bombed."

"Everyone has a bad day," Ralling said.

Trailings threw up his hands and left the room, which suited Tryte just fine.

 

Drew woke up with a slight throbbing in her head, which meant she was more or less back to normal. She shook Arcadia till she woke up and then put a finger over her mouth. She got up and motioned for Arcadia to follow her a little out of camp. When they were a sufficient distance away, Drew stopped. At which point Arcadia proceeded to wrap herself around her.

"Honey, I've got puke breath, Drew protested.

"I don't care, Drew . . . it's been so long, and I've missed you so much."

Drew kissed her gently on the mouth, then pushed her away."I promise you that as soon as we get to Hepron Station I'll make it up to you. Right now I need to fill you in on what's going on, and then you can tell Dylan . . ." Drew relayed the news cast to Arcadia.

"But you didn't kill him . . ."

"You think my sister's going to believe me?"

"But I was there! I know you didn't do it."

"And you think she'd believe you any sooner than she'd believe me?"

"I suppose not." She saw the way Drewcila was looking at her, and mistook an attack of gas for accusation."I swear to you, Drew, that I didn't . . ."

"I know that. Jurak would have had a fit if you did. I also know he didn't do it, because . . . well, he just wouldn't."

"Then who?"

"I imagine the evil Atario. Power hungry and stupid . . . He killed Zarco and blamed it on me, which really pisses me off, because I wanted to kill Zarco and blame it on him. It's just so unfair."

"So that's why all the police and military are after us. They think you killed the king."

"And so will Stasha. Like I said, she won't believe you, and she certainly isn't going to believe me. She might believe Jurak, I don't know. At any rate, I don't want her to find out Zarco's dead just yet. She's bitching enough now when she thinks all I did was screw and shoot him. Besides . . . the dumb ass actually loved the bastard."

"So did you . . . once," Arcadia reminded.

Drew smiled and looked back towards the camp and her sister."See . . . I just don't believe that for a minute. I don't think a person could change that much. They might have removed my memories, but they didn't remove me, and I just never felt anything for him but contempt."

"And Van Gar?"

"What about him?"

"Do you love him?"

Drew smiled and ran her hand down the side of Arcadia's face."Are you jealous?"

"You know that I am."

"Well, do yourself a favor and STOP IT! Don't you start that sentimental bullshit, too, I just can't take it right now. Van Gar left because he couldn't live on my terms. Why does everyone have to get so damned serious? Doesn't anyone just want to have fun anymore?" Drew laughed then and popped Arcadia on the back."Hell, girl! Isn't life throwing enough crap at us right now?"

Arcadia nodded, although she wouldn't look at her.

Drew took Arcadia's claw in her hand."Come on, let's get this show on the road. The sooner we get to Hepron the better."

"They will be waiting there for us?"

"Most probably. However, I'm hoping that by then Jurak and Margot will have gotten to the news media. If so, I'm expecting a rather uneventful arrival."

"And we'll be together?" Arcadia asked carefully.

"Of course we will," Drew answered enthusiastically.

 

Dartan woke early, which turned out to be a total waste of time because there was still no sign of the queen. Overnight, news had broken that they'd bombed the capital of Lockhede, and that there was a huge demonstration outside the castle. It was reported that several nobles had committed suicide rather than face the wrath of the population outside the castle walls should they fall.

Of course he wasn't reporting on any of that; in fact, all the things that were news-worthy he wasn't being allowed to report on at all. Hepron Station was run by Salvagers, most of whom were alien. Everyone here was an employee of Qwah-Co, and as such all highly loyal to the queen. No one was going to allow him to report that the queen was still missing or where she was heading. Any of that might give away where she was. And although it seemed that the military, which had arrived in force sometime during the night, was currently awaiting orders—not from the reigning regent, Atario, but from their queen—no one was willing to take any chances.

Vehicles, both land and air, were being prepared, and it was obvious that a reconnaissance mission was being launched. However, no one was telling him anything. He sighed. He had been sure he'd been handed the assignment of his life, and now the news seemed to be happening everywhere but here. It just wasn't fair.

 

Arcadia continued to play with her wrist com."Well, it's obvious that communications are back up."

"But?" Drew drawled, standing close to the fire to warm her freezing ass.

"I haven't been able to get an open channel to Hepron Station yet."

"Keep trying."

"Drewcila, we had a plan. A plan to go to civilization and seek help. I think that was a good plan," Dylan said.

Arcadia laughed and looked at Drew."Little Dylan's afraid to stay in the big dark woods another night."

"Bite me, Arcadia," Dylan snapped."I don't care what any of you say, something big was breathing on my neck last night, and something with way too many legs to be anything but creepy was crawling on my face when I woke up this morning. If God had meant for us to live in the woods, he would have given us shells like turtles so that we could carry our home with us."

"And no doubt your shell would contain all the modern conveniences of a space station," Arcadia teased.

"A little piece of heaven for him and his blow-up doll," Drew laughed.

"Fuck you, Qwah!" Dylan said angrily."I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm cold. I don't think either of you pathetic bitches are particularly funny this morning. I surely-to-fuck never had to resort to screwing some blow-up plastic piece of shit."

"I'm guessing Stasha wouldn't screw you," Drewcila said.

"Most certainly not!" Stasha said, her head snapping up from where she'd been sitting staring at the fire."Unlike you, I don't bed everything with legs."

"Neither do I . . . That thing that crawled across Dylan's face? I don't care what that lying bastard says, I didn't fuck it," Drew said with a laugh.

"She's never screwed me either," Dylan said with a pout.

"I told you . . . you're too normal," Drew said.

"I'm not having any luck getting a link with Hepron Station," Arcadia sighed.

"May I?" Facto asked holding out his hand. Arcadia handed him the communicator.

"Why not give it to my sister? Maybe she could have sex with it," Stasha said.

"All right, but you have to set it on vibrate mode, and I don't know how good an antenna I'm going to make." If Drew was at all upset by Stasha's obvious jabs it wasn't showing.

"I vote we start walking," Dylan said.

"I say we stay put and let our people find us," Drew said.

"And I think it's more likely that the army guys will find us," Dylan insisted.

"Quiet, I think I've reached Hepron Station," Facto reported.

 

Dartan heard the commotion, and he and his camera men moved towards it. A hovercraft landed on the pad just outside the door, and armed Qwah-Co soldiers climbed out and took up position, followed by the queen and her retinue, and the word that jumped immediately to Dartan's thoughts was 'competent.'

It was evident in their movements and in those of their queen's. These were people who understood who they were and knew exactly what they were doing.

"Can we please start filming now?" Dartan asked the angry looking gray alien who had spent the better part of the night before and this morning telling them what and when they could and could not shoot.

"Knock yourselves out."

"Jesop . . . bring us on live now," Dartan ordered into his head set. And then the words just flowed as they had never flowed for him before."I'm here at a secret location where the queen and her retinue have just arrived." They were digging their way through the crowd as he spoke."In the face of tragedy and treachery, our queen stands tall. All our hopes, all our fears rest on her shoulders and hers alone, and looking at her now surrounded by those she trusts most, I personally have no doubt that we as a nation shall surely triumph over any adversity. She saved us before, and she shall save us again." The queen suddenly stumbled, and was quickly caught by a man he recognized immediately as Chancellor Facto."I don't know if you can see her clearly, she just stumbled, and Chancellor Facto caught her. Her color is very bad, and she appears to be very weak, which would seem to confirm the reports that she has been poisoned. She was supposed to have met us here last night, and she is just now arriving with a reconnaissance team that was sent out earlier to locate and retrieve her. The gods alone know what horrors she has endured through the night, and yet despite her obvious physical weakness and her crushing loss, she's here. And I have to believe that she will be able to sew our troubled nation back together. We are almost through the crowd now." He forced his way past the last few bipedal obstacles in his way, and found himself face to face with the queen, who looked at him and smiled.

"I'm glad you could make it," she said.

"My Queen . . . so much has happened, and your great personal loss . . ."

"Someone please give my sister a sedative. She's very distraught because of our ordeal," the queen ordered quickly.

"I'm wha . . . ?" Stasha collapsed into the arms of the medic who had given her a shot, and was hauled quickly away towards the medical facility with Margot right behind them.

"My sister . . . she's a delicate flower, and she's been through a great ordeal." Drewcila stumbled again, and Dartan found himself supplying a supportive arm to the monarch.

"My Queen . . . are you ill? What happened to your tongue?"

"Ah . . . There's something wrong with my tongue? Must be the effects of the poison. I sure ain't feelin' in the pink if you know what I mean. Atario had me poisoned, and I have just a few moments ago learned that he had my dear husband killed. Then the bastard had the nerve to try and frame me for it! His attempt at a coup shall not, will not, succeed. My sister and my husband . . . they were very close, and I'm afraid she just completely lost it. I'm still very sick, and it's been a very long, stressful night. You'd be surprised to know how much one person can puke . . .

"I have much to think about, and consume, and I'm a little overwhelmed right now. I'm not going to lie to you: the nobles have put our country in a position of grave peril. Give me a few hours to rest, time to eat a warm meal and absorb all the data, and I will better be able to address the problems we all face." She nodded her head, and the Valtarian lizard woman took the queen from him, and started mostly carrying her towards what Dartan assumed were her chambers. The rest of the queen's entourage followed.

"Cameras off," Dartan ordered. For the moment all his reporter's instincts were on hold. He motioned for the camera men and his crew to stay behind as he rushed to catch up with the queen."May I help you, my Queen?"

She smiled broadly at him."Whatever floats your boat."

He took her other arm and helped to move her along."My Queen . . ." words which had flowed so easily just moments ago momentarily left him. '. . . I have heard so much about you."

"Ah, you can't believe everything you hear," she warned.

"Most of what I've heard has been very good," he assured her.

"That's exactly my point," she said laughing out loud. They had reached the door to her chambers and stopped. She raised a hand and gently patted the side of his face."Don't get too far off. I just need to get a shower, recharge my batteries, and figure out just what in hell's name is actually going on. When I know all the details and have made a plan of action, I'll want to address the nation. Four hours," she looked briefly at the lizard woman and smiled, "five tops. In the meantime, extol my virtues and make damn sure you don't allow anything in a frame that would give away our position. Hepron Station is a prime target for our enemies as it stands, and with me here . . . well, that's just bonus points if you know what I mean, and I'm sure you do. You look like a sharp guy. Oh, and see if you can't incite the people to riot on the castle, start kicking some noble butt-boy ass. Those guys have really started to piss me off, and it would be nice if they had been crunched by the time I woke up from my little nap. Something to look forward to in these darkest of times."

"As you wish, my Queen." He bowed low and departed. Drew opened the door, and she and Arcadia entered. The others started to follow, but Drew held up a hand."Where the hell do you yahoos think you're going?"

Jurak, Dylan and Facto just shrugged.

She sighed deeply."My brain is tired! Why do I always have to do all the thinking?"

They shrugged again.

"Great. All right. You," she pointed at Jurak, "keep an eye on the reporter and his crew. And you," she pointed at Dylan.

"Damn it, Drew, I'm tired and I'm hungry . . ."

"And you whine more than my fucking grandmother. Get something to eat, and then make sure Hepron Station is secure, that all our early warning systems are intact, and that all our anti-aircraft guns are operational. Make sure my ship is actually here, or at the very least on its way. We're a prime target for the Lockhedes. I wasn't just bullshitting him about that. I want to be able to jump planet if I have to." This got her a dirty look from Facto, which she mostly ignored."I want the station put on the highest possible alert . . ."

"What would that be?" Dylan asked curiously.

"How the fuck should I know? Call it ugly-puppy-delta-red-six-alert for all I care. I just want to make damn sure that if any Lockhede bastard thinks it's a good idea to attack us, we show them real quick that it's not. And you," she pointed at Facto."You make damn sure that my sister talks to no one, and that she doesn't find out that Zarco's dead until I get a chance to talk to her."

"Why can't I do that job?" Dylan whined.

"Because I think in your fragile, hungry, tired state, it might be a good idea if some of the blood actually got back to your brain. When you put us on hair-pie-beta-blue-five-alert, go and get some sleep. You can return to your quest to bone my sister when you wake up."

Dylan snapped a salute, "Yes, sir!"

Drew looked at the three of them and sighed again."Key-rist! What the hell are you still standing her for? Get your asses in gear, and do my bidding."

Drew walked the rest of the way into the room, and Arcadia shut the door. Her chambers here were large and lavish, fit for a queen or the galaxy's leading salvaging mogul, and she was, of course, both. Truth was she had rarely used them, and yet had still spent more time here than she had at the castle. She looked at Arcadia and smiled."Gee, I thought they'd never leave." She walked over to the bar and started mixing herself a drink."So . . . let's see. Jack Be Nimble with a shot of Barcadian Rum."

"I'm surprised you remember," Arcadia smiled."These days I'm mostly drinking Hurling Monkeys."

Drew looked momentarily surprised."Me, too. I like mine with a twist."

Arcadia laughed."Well, I didn't expect you'd drink it straight." Arcadia sat on the couch, moving her tail out of the way. Keeping her spikes from puncturing things had become as natural to her as a human not sitting on their hands. Of course there were times when she had to actually remind herself that she was permanently attached to a dangerous weapon. Safe sex for her meant corking the tips of her spikes. Drew mixed the drinks, walked over and handed Arcadia hers, and then flopped on the couch next to her, successfully spilling both drinks. She mumbled curses and wiped her hand over the liquid on her jumpsuit and then licked it off.

"I'd never actually heard you speak on camera before. Very impressive with all the shall-nots and big words and all."

"It's just like bullshit, only a little more formal. You have to be just stiff enough that you sound like you know what you're talking about, yet honest enough that the common folk buy your line of crap."

"So . . . what was with the act? I mean . . . you hardly seem worse for the wear right now."

Drew leaned against Arcadia and sipped at her drink."Sympathy. Besides, I need a little time to think about everything that's happened and go over all the events of last night as reported on all sides. Find out just where my ship's at." She pointed at her head."Work up a good getting all the people over to my side speech."

"Oh . . ." Arcadia said a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Drewcila laughed at her."Arcadia . . . my planet is in chaos, my business is falling into the toilet, and I'm a widow, which means I'm now the reigning monarch if I can get those noble rich fucks out of my castle . . . My castle. That has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? I'm a little hurt, though. I thought you knew me better than that. Of course I wouldn't think of tackling any of that shit without a good stiff drink and a really good tumble first."

 

Stasha woke to a strange whirling sensation in her head.

"You're all right," a familiar voice was saying."We're safe, you were a little over-wrought." It was Margot. If she squinted her eyes a little she could put the face with the voice.

"Margot . . . what happened to me?"

"You were very upset . . ."

Memory flooded in as the fogginess left her head."No I wasn't. I wasn't upset at all. My sister had me drugged. She had me drugged so that I wouldn't tell the reporters that she's the one that shot Zarco. That's it, isn't it?"

"Now calm down, Stasha. Getting upset isn't going to help anyone." That was Facto.

She was alone in a dark room with Margot and Facto. She tried to get up, and found that she was strapped to the bed."What madness is this? How long does my sister think she can bind me here like this?"

"Calm down," Facto ordered, moving to undo the straps."You aren't being restrained. The straps were only to keep you from rolling out of the bed."

"Don't lie to me, Facto. Why would I roll out of my bed? Do I normally roll out of my bed? No." She rubbed at her wrists."Where is she? Where is the Queen of Whores now?"

"She's sleeping."

"Alone?" Stasha asked in an accusing way.

"No, I don't think so," Facto said.

"But I'm alone, all alone . . ."

"We're here for you, Stasha." Margot said in a comforting tone that was wasted on Stasha.

"No you're not. You're here because she ordered you to be here. You're not my friends, you're my guards, and I'm not the idiot my sister thinks I am."

"You're just talking nonsense now, Stasha," Facto said throwing up his hands.

"Oh really? Well here." She sat up and slid her feet off the bed."I'm getting up, and I'm . . ." she started walking towards the door, '. . . going to leave!"

Facto quickly moved to stand between her and the door."Stasha, you aren't thinking clearly."

"Why's that Facto? Could it be because I'm trying to leave the room, where you've been ordered to keep me so that my sister can weave whatever lies she's going to weave? Would that be why you'd say I'm not thinking clearly?"

"No, actually, I was thinking you were confused because you're naked," Facto said gently.

Stasha looked down, noticed that she was indeed naked, ran back to the bed and covered herself with a sheet.

"Where . . . where are my clothes?" she demanded.

"They were very dirty and torn. The medics cut them off you and gave you a bath. We all thought you'd rest better this way," Margot explained.

"No . . . no you didn't. You took my clothes to make me vulnerable . . . To make it so that I can't leave without making a spectacle of myself." Stasha pulled the sheet more tightly around her."I want to see Drewcila. I demand to see her at once."

"Your sister has been sick, and there are matters which need her attention. She needs her sleep," Facto objected.

"Facto . . . you get me my sister, or I swear I will walk out of this room naked and scream until the reporter finds me."

"You will not do that," Facto said sternly.

"You watch me."

"You will not do it, because I will not let you do it."

 

Her comlink was making that god awful noise that comlinks make when someone was patching an emergency call through. Drew pulled a pillow over her head and tried to ignore it.

"Drew," Arcadia started rocking her body."Drew, you'd better get that, it's a distress call."

"What? A distress call in the middle of a coup and a war? Unthinkable!" Drew sat up and slung the pillow aside."All right, hand me the fucking thing." Drew ran her hands down her face as Arcadia grabbed the buzzing comlink and handed it to Drew. Drew opened the channel."What! What the fuck do you want?" she screamed into the receiver.

"It's Stasha. She's out of control," Margot said in a panic.

"I told you not to let her find out that Zarco was dead."

"We didn't, she doesn't know that Zarco's dead," Margot said.

"Dead! Zarco's dead! Oh my gods!" she heard Stasha cry out.

"Oops," Margot said.

"Yeah, big fucking oops, Margot."

"She killed him! Drew killed him, didn't she? Oh, gods . . ."

"Where are you?"

"Med unit, room six," Margot answered.

"Don't let her leave. Sedate her if you have to. I'll be there as soon as I get dressed."

 

Dartan was waiting with his crew outside the queen's chambers, hoping she would emerge soon, since he had exhausted all other possible newsworthy venues within the station. The door opened, and she walked out wearing tight black leather pants with zippers where zippers shouldn't be, and a dark blue shirt with no sleeves which didn't quite hit her belt and was open all the way to her navel. A huge blaster in an elaborate black leather holster hung on her right hip. She looked well, awake, and ready for action. Out the door behind her came her bodyguard, the Valtarian lizard woman, wearing the plain blue sleeveless jump suit with the Qwah-Co logo that most Qwah-Co employs wore. Her blaster was also prominently displayed on her person.

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."

 

 

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