by Selina Rosen
"Oh, please," Drew drawled. "In his mind he was always faithful to you . . . Please! What a lot of fucking hooey."
"I had hoped you would never find out."
"You must really love him," Drew said softly. "To be willing to let him go on with his life with me and pretend like nothing ever happened between you. To even be happy for him, and he's such a shit."
"It helped that I was glad to have my sister back. But then you didn't have all your brain, and someone kidnapped Zarco, and everything is just so messed up!" Her crying raised in pitch. "You have no idea what it's like to love someone who doesn't love you."
"Yea, I think I do," Drew said heavily.
"But he does love you," Stasha dried her eyes.
"I wasn't talking about Zarco. That cheating bastard doesn't flip my bacon."
"I wasn't talking about Zarco, either. I was talking about Van Gar."
"Van Gar doesn't love anybody but himself," Drew scoffed.
"He wouldn't stay here if he didn't love you."
"You don't know Van like I do. Right now, he doesn't have a ship. Erik's gone, and I'm not running ships. All of his contacts are through me. If I gave him a ship and someone to work with, he'd be gone tomorrow."
"I think you're wrong, Drew. He risked being shot to save you . . ."
"I didn't say Van wasn't a good friend. I said he didn't love me. What's funniest about that is that until recently, I didn't think I wanted anyone to love me. But now I want him to, and he won't, and it's really starting to piss me off."
"I know what you mean." Stasha sniffed. "Do you forgive me?"
"Yeah, I suppose so . . . I'm such a push over. You won't say anything to the walking talking ego, will ya?"
"No."
"Good. Now, let's celebrate making up the way normal sisters would."
"How's that?"
"Let's get sloshed and talk about what dicks men are."
Marcus sat down carefully in the seat across from the Queen.
"Marcus, do you know why I've called you here?" Drew asked solemnly.
Marcus swallowed hard. He looked from the Queen to her sister, to the alien and swallowed again. He very much feared a double cross. He shook his head no.
"Here's what we want you to do."
Marcus sighed with relief and listened.
Chapter 17
Drewcila watched the newscast happily. Everything was going as planned, and without a hitch. There hadn't been an assassination attempt in a week, and all the preparations for the banquet seemed to be going smoothly. The only dark cloud on the horizon was that Margot was still in a coma.
"I wonder whatever happened to that human?" Drew asked.
"Wow! That's the first time you've asked about him in awhile," Van Gar said."You know, Drew . . . I've been thinking,"
"Well, don't hurt yourself."
"Drew, this is kind of serious. Zarco will be back soon, and . . . Well, maybe it would be better if I wasn't here when he got back. Give me a ship and I can start working. Then, when and if you decide you're tired of playing Queen . . ."
"I've got a ship in dock for you now, but it won't be done before Zarco gets back," she said stiffly.
Van Gar took a deep breath. "I think it's best. Don't you?"
"I suppose . . ."
Stasha ran in. "Drew! Margot just came to!"
"Finally," Drew pushed away from her desk. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to put in that intercom system." She followed her sister to the infirmary, but as they got there, crash carts came around the corner at a run, heading for Margot's room. "What the hell?"
"Someone tried to smother her by holding a plastic bag across her face," the palace Doctor answered.
"Did anyone see who it was?"
"No, my Queen. The person wore a mask, and I'm afraid they escaped capture."
"You fucking morons!" Drew pulled at her hair. "Will she be all right?"
"We think so, but I'm afraid she's lapsed back into a coma."
"Damn! Well, keep me appraised of her condition." She turned to one of her personal guards. "You stay here. I'll send a replacement. I want a twenty-four hour guard put on this door."
"Yes, your Majesty."
"Kind of like shutting the hanger after the rats get in. Come on, Stasha. Let's get back to the office. I want to know where every fucking person in this palace was."
"Why would anyone try to kill Margot?" Stasha asked.
"Because she saw the assassin."
Zarco sat in his cell. His days seemed endless. His life had no meaning or purpose. He felt unloved and unwanted. He watched the screen in front of him and listened to the reporter.
"A few weeks ago the Queen asked to be called Drewcila Qwah, the name that she used in her five years away from us."
Zarco grimaced.
"The Queen's popularity among the working class is phenomenal. Most people now refer to their queen as Queen Qwah. Behind me is a beauty salon. As you can see, the sign in the window says they now do the 'Drewcila Do'. With me today is Bartis, a stylist at the Beauty Wave Salon. So tell us, Bartis, what is the 'Drewcila Do'?"
The man smiled for the camera and waved big, before he spoke. "It's the fabulous cut that our marvelous Queen Qwah is sporting. It's simple, dramatic and easy to care for. The perfect do for the busy working woman on the go."
"Thanks, Bartis. We'll now join Yarta down at the Rags clothing store. Yarta?"
The picture switched to a middle aged woman in a "Drewcila Do". She was standing at a counter in the clothing store. "Thanks, Jar."
"Hello! I'm Yarta, and I'm here in the Rags store on the corner of Rock and Stone, speaking to Bobit who owns the Store. Bobit, tell us what has become your number one selling item."
The man held up a palace guard's uniform. "These. I can't keep them in stock. They sell as fast as I get them. Everyone wants to look like the Queen."
"And what do you think of the Queen, Bobit?"
The man smiled broadly. "Long live the Queen! She's an absolute doll, and not bad looking, either. Now remember, we have all sizes in stock, and best of all, these uniforms are made of fifty percent recycled materials."
"Thanks, Bobit." The reporter walked away from the counter. "And that's not all. There is a Drewcila doll. A board game called Salvagers' Paradise. And you can get Queen Qwah trading cards, or a T shirt featuring either the Queen, her sister Stasha, members of the palace guard, or the queen's alien body guard, Van Gar. To top it all off, the Queen has opened her own brewery, and soon you'll be able to go to the store and pick up a six pack of Salvager's Grog. This is the very same beer that they serve in the palace, and the Queen's picture will be on every totally recycled can."
"Marcus!" Zarco screamed. Marcus ran in. "Turn it off! Turn it off!" Marcus turned the set off, and looked with concern into Zarco's crazed eyes.
"You OK?"
"Can't you see, boy? It's too late now! Too late! There's no going back!"
Drew looked at the fancy frocks paraded in front of her, and made a face. She was tired of trying to find something suitable to wear to this banquet thing.
"Enough!" She waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "Call Lulu the leather lady."
"Drew, the point was to show the nobles that you can act with regal grace and dignity!" Facto protested.
"Let me tell you something, Facto," Drew said. Then she took a sip of the smoking drink she held in her hand, smiled with appreciation, and went on. "Class has nothing to do with how you dress, or how you act, or how you carry yourself, or even the way you talk."
"Heaven help us," Fitz mumbled.
"What's that?" Drew asked.
"Ah . . . I was just saying that whatever you choose will be heavenly," Fitz stammered, his face scarlet.
Drew laughed, and shook her head. "Stasha, call Lulu. I must have something suitable . . ."
"Just for one night, couldn't you . . . well, wear something tasteful?" Stasha pleaded.
"Leather is tasteful, and it's cert
ainly not cheap."
She thought for a minute, and then turned to Van Gar. "Van, get me Jack Knife."
"The arms dealer? But he's a . . ."
". . . very charming business man. I know. You'll find his code in the files."
"What do I tell him when I reach him?"
"Tell him that Taralin Zarco, Queen of all Gildart, wishes to do business with him. But quickly. What I need, I need within four days."
"Can't you just order it over the computer direct from him?"
Drew looked at Van Gar in disbelief. "No, I can't."
She cut a quick glance at Facto.
"Oh. Oh!" Van nodded his head in understanding. After all, it would be very easy for any member of the staff to access the computer and extract information. There were three common terminals in the building, and Facto, Fitz, and several other upper level staff had their own terminals. With this antiquated system, anyone could link into anyone else's terminal.
Till now there had never been any real need for secrecy within the palace walls. Back in the "good old days," everyone was to be trusted. But that was before Marcus abducted the King and someone tried to kill first Drew and then Margot. Whatever happened, Van Gar had a feeling that trust like that would never again be part of life in the palace. He was shaken from his train of thought by raised voices.
"You still have not explained why you can't deal with an arms dealer from our own country. Or for that matter go through the military." Facto was obviously hot under the collar. "Why would you rather give kingdom funds to some alien instead of your own people!"
"Don't get uppity with me, Fucktoad. I could still have your ass beheaded." She laughed loudly. "Behead your ass, that's funny."
"Perhaps if we knew what it was that you wanted . . ."
"Shut the fuck up, Fatso! You're getting on my nerves, besides which I'm not at all sure that you're not the asshole who keeps trying to kill me, so why the hell would I tell you anything of importance? You are all dismissed. And for the record, I don't mean that in a 'kindly leave so I can get some work done' sort of way. I mean that in a 'you're pestering the shit out of me, get the hell out of my face' way. Stasha, get me Lulu the leather lady. Van Gar, put in that call to Jack Knife."
They started to file out; Fitz stopped in the doorway.
"I just wanted to report that all seems to be going as planned as concerns the banquet."
"You're a good man, Fitz." She started to go through the papers on her desk, but realized that he was still there. "Is there anything else, Fitz?"
"I was just wondering if you have heard anything this morning concerning Margot."
"I'm afraid there's been no change. The doctor says it could be hours, or it could be months."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Margot was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's a shame."
He walked away, and Drew went back to her rat killing. She looked at the papers regarding the ship she was preparing. Decision time was just around the corner, and she still had no idea what she was going to do. Since they had argued the other night, Van Gar had kept his distance, and Drew could feel a rift growing between them. She also felt a growing attachment to the country she was running, and she liked the power. She liked watching the newscasts and realizing that she was making the news. She liked the giant salvaging empire she was building. But Zarco would be back soon, and what then? The only way she could keep all this power was to keep Zarco gone, or make him dead. But Stasha loved Zarco, and she couldn't do that to her only sister. If she went back to Salvaging . . . she just didn't know if she could now. Go back to a hard life where nothing she did really seemed to matter, and the only important things in life were keeping your ship running, getting a good load, and getting shit-faced drunk.
She had become far too accustomed to snapping her fingers and having the world change to suit her needs and her dreams. It would be very hard to go back to food processors which spit out brown goop three times a day, and re-cycled water. But what could she realistically expect here? The people loved her, but the nobles hated her. Recent public opinion polls showed that ninety percent of the population was happy with the way she was running things. Zarco would have to listen to her.
Zarco. He was a major problem. He said he loved her, but she didn't love him. Stasha loved Zarco, and he didn't love her. And Drew absolutely refused to love Van Gar as long as he wouldn't love her. Someone hated her enough to kill her, and that damn Earth man was still missing. Sometimes it seemed to her that it was a hell of a lot easier to deal with the problems of an entire country than it was to tackle a single one of her personal problems.
When Fitz woke up on the morning of the day of the banquet, it was to the sound of power tools running and workers screaming. He threw on his robe and ran in the direction of the noise. When he walked into the banquet room, there were ladders and scaffolds everywhere, and twenty to thirty aliens of all descriptions were running around the room with their hands full of wire.
"What's going on?" he screamed.
"The Queen wants new lights put in for the banquet." A worker explained as he approached Fitz.
"Are you aware that the banquet takes place tonight?"
"Hang onto your hat, pops. We'll be outtah here in a couple of hours."
"Just make sure that you are." Fitz stormed off towards the Queen's office. The guards stopped him at the door and checked him with the objects detector. "What the hell . . ."
"By the Queen's orders, everyone entering her presence must be checked."
Fitz stormed into Drew's office. She stood in the middle of the room, modeling a black leather loin-cloth and vest. The vest was covered in gold chains. She looked at Fitz.
"Don't you really think you should be dressed?" he asked.
She spun around. "So, what do you think?"
Fitz threw his hands up in the air and stormed right back out of the office again.
"Maybe he's right. OK, Lulu. I'll take the black pants with the silver studs down the side and the red wrap-around shirt."
"Good choice," the leather lady said. "Anything else?"
"Ah, what the hell. I'll take this outfit, too."
The alien workers got out of the banquet room barely in time for the staff to get the room decorated and prepared for their guests. In fact, it had been so close that the finishing touches were being done as the first guests arrived. But now the guests were all present. Everything was right on schedule, and the Queen and her retinue stood poised, waiting for the last of the guests to be seated.
"This is stupid," Drew mumbled.
"Just this once, Drew," Stasha begged.
"They all have to be seated so that we can walk in and make them stand up again. That is just the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard."
Facto stood in the very back, and tried to shut the Queen's latest tirade out. He felt a tapping on his shoulder, and turned to face a young page.
"What is it, boy?"
"It's Margot, sir. She's just come to, and she says it's urgent that she speak to the Queen."
"The Queen is preparing to meet the nobles of the country. I'll go receive the message, and give it to the Queen."
The page nodded and was off.
Facto tapped on Fitz's shoulder. "I've got to go. Go on without me. I'll be back as soon as I can." Fitz made a face. "With any luck I'll be back before we go in. But it is urgent." Fitz nodded and Facto was off.
Facto ran all the way to the infirmary. The guards stopped him only briefly. He went to Margot's bedside. "My Lady?"
"Facto, where's the Queen?"
"She's getting ready to address the nobles of . . ."
"I know who's trying to kill the Queen."
The band played the Royal anthem, the huge doors opened, and the Queen entered the room followed by her retinue.
"Nice touch," she whispered to Stasha, speaking of the band.
"Harlot!" A woman in the crowd screamed and stood up. "What right have you got running our country? You're not
even one of us!"
"Guards," Drew said calmly and with a smile. "Get this bitch out of my palace." The guards ran in and seized her, but she put up a fight. Then the door burst open and Facto ran in, gasping for breath.
