Recycled

by Selina Rosen

  "Because it makes you look bigger," the director said. He addressed them."Now, when I cue you, you will stick these pills into your mouth." He handed them out."They will then start to foam. Let the foam erupt naturally from your mouth, and snarl and look like ravenous beasts. This is your motivation. You have come here to make your home, but no sooner have you bought your property and started to set down roots than these bastard Lockhedes start bombing your new homeland. You're a warrior race, and you're not going to stand for that. So you will don the uniform of a Barion soldier and do your part at the front lines to protect your new homeland. Do you have that?"

  They all nodded.

  "Let's see it then! A little maniacal but righteous anger . . . without the pills." The Chitzskies all started growling."Very good, I'm living it." He turned to Drewcila."You, my queen, need no direction." He turned away from her and shouted."Lex! Lex, get over here!"

  The actor who had been playing the Captain of the starship Intertwined ran over, a wardrobe woman still fussing over his general's uniform.

  "No offense, but aren't people going to recognize him and realize that your top military advisor is a two-bit TV actor?" Van Gar asked in a whisper at Drew's shoulder.

  "No, they'll think, Gods! Why that general is so good looking he looks just like that actor Lex Icon. People like to follow and take orders from attractive people, everybody knows that," Drew explained.

  Van Gar threw up his hands and walked over to join his Chitzsky brothers and sisters in front of the blue screen, practicing looking mad.

  "Dartan, are you ready?" the director asked.

  "I suppose so," he said, adjusting the glasses the director had made him wear because he said they made him look smarter.

  "Everyone! Take your places and remember you have to get it right the first time. This is live television people, there will be no second take. Are we ready?" He looked around quickly."Then start shooting in three, two, gods! I hate shooting live television, one!"

  Ralling was watching their doctored report of the events at Hepron Station for the fortieth time, thinking what a stroke of genius it had been, when suddenly his monitor phased out, and then there was a Barion reporter in glasses looking at him. The man was standing in what appeared to be some huge underground chamber carved from solid rock.

  "The queen has called a press conference, and we are waiting now for her to enter the war room from where she plans to make her monumental speech concerning the Lockhedes' most recent attack and the state of our military readiness, which has been under fire from the Lockhedes. We are currently in a secret underground bunker, miles below the surface of the planet. This war reaction base was set up three years ago to harbor the king and queen and top aides in case of attack. A facility from which they could conduct a war safely. Special communications equipment has been set up to boost the signal so that the people of Barious can be kept abreast of all that is going on even though we are many miles below the surface of the planet . . . It appears the queen is now prepared to speak."

  Then Qwah's face filled his screen. Ralling wondered if his enemies knew that by boosting their signal to get it above ground they had boosted to every monitor on the planet. Stupid woman. He had but only to watch his TV to learn all of their plans.

  "People of Barious. Since these are such urgent times I will try to speak to you in language you understand, so that we won't need an interpreter between us. This is not a time for mirth. I, your Queen, must address you on a matter of grave importance. As you know, the nobles did push us into a war with the people of Lockhede. I have tried to explain our position—that of your king, my dearly departed husband, and my position as well—but most of the leaders of Lockhede want to bring death upon their own heads. Only one of their leaders, who shall remain nameless for his own safety, has spoken out to try and save his people. Unfortunately, the others would not heed."

  The camera panned out then, and Ralling could see that Qwah was flanked by a large, good looking Barion man, and a Valtarian lizard woman. All three wore stunning black uniforms with literally dozens of medals hanging from them. All around them were maps and charts and sophisticated electronic devices of all kinds.

  Qwah continued, "Still, despite their stubbornness, I have given them forty-eight hours in which to stop this madness. I do not believe that they will. Some idiot has told them that they are militarily superior. Rest assured, my people, and sleep soundly, because this is not the case. They have doctored tapes of the battle of Hepron Station, bringing lies to their people. But you, my people, have seen the reality of what happened and know that while we were out-numbered and out-gunned, we did utterly smite them . . . That's like queen talk for we killed the shit out of them. I can only guess that they have done this to raise the morale of their demoralized people. These people are hungry, they're poor, and the man who is their president was not even elected by them, but is a man who—unlike the nobles of our country—led a successful coup against the people of his country.

  "We should not be angry with the people of Lockhede, for this is not their war. Oh no, this is the war of their filthy rich leaders. Leaders who will put their people in harm's way to take that which is rightfully ours. The sad truth, my people, is that they never wanted trade agreements with us. They don't want to enjoy the same wealth as we do—they don't want to share. The leaders of the Lockhede nation want it all, or they want nothing. They want what you have, what we have worked for. They want to take our homes, our factories, our spaceports. But they will not succeed.

  "I have made an agreement with the Chitzsky people. They have purchased the land the nobles are being evicted from, and the money they have paid for this land will be used to further add to our defensive capabilities. The Chitzskies had just made payment on this land when the first of the bombs rained down on Hepron Station. They rushed to our aide, and this is how we did so utterly smite . . . I can see why everyone likes that word so much . . . utterly smite the Lockhedes at Hepron Station. Our homeland is now their homeland, too, and they consider the attack on us to be an attack against them. They have joined our army, are currently being put into position, and even as I speak to you, my people, they are ready to attack on my command. And now a few words from Four Q General Jurak on the state of our military readiness."

  The camera panned up at the big man standing behind her."Let me first say that our armed forces stand firmly behind the queen. Any confusion caused by the nobles' uprising is firmly behind us. We have never been more willing and more able to serve any monarch in the history of our country. There are rumors flying around that much of our military arsenal has been scrapped. This is simply not true. Yes, military equipment has been scrapped out and sold, but that was defective and/or obsolete equipment, and money from the sale of it has been used to buy state-of-the-art equipment and build underground, covert bases all over the country. It has also been used to place anti-aircraft guns on all of our larger buildings, and to purchase many tanks. We have never been as militarily strong as we are now, and let us not forget that the last time we fought the Lockhedes, we did . . ."

  "Say utterly smite. I just like the way it sounds," the queen prompted.

  "We did utterly smite them. Let me close by saying . . ." he seemed to be rattled then, as if not quite sure of what he was going to say next. Then his voice rang out strong and true, and with a strength of purpose the likes of which Ralling had never heard before."We are determined that if they continue to travel in these temporal streams, we will knock them back to a time where they didn't even exist!"

  "Very well said. Thank you, General," the queen said."So, my people, kick back, pop a brew, and wait for the fireworks." An interpreter suddenly appeared in a little box at the bottom of the screen, and was busily explaining the queen's words."If they will not make peace with us, then we're going to kick their asses up around their shoulders so that they have to wear them for collars, walk with their fingertips, and eat with their toes. The decision rests on the shoulders of their c
ountry's leaders. They must make peace and start negotiations for trade agreements, or we will turn their country into a smoldering hole. Which, by the way, I understand would be an improvement."

  She nodded her head, and the reporter was back on camera fidgeting with his glasses and his earpiece.

  "I'm told we have footage of some of the Chitzsky troops and the new tanks which are on the move heading towards a destination unknown. Apparently these are shock troops, and will be deployed at a moment's notice if any attack is made on Barion soil. This is live via satellite and . . . There we go."

  The monitor showed acre upon acre of huge Chitzskies foaming at the mouth and pounding on their chests while uttering alien battle cries. There were thousands of them. The scene changed swiftly to long, straight lines of high-tech tanks rumbling along to a destination unknown. Thousands of them, extending as far as the eye could see.

  The reporter was back on the screen."We will try to keep you updated on all the recent events as we have the details."

  The screen went black, and then returned to the fake video Ralling had been watching.

  He punched a button on his communicator."Tryte! Get down here now!"

  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 inj
ury? 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."