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  "You . . ." Stasha fought her tears."I love you, Zarco. Does that mean nothing to you? Has our time together . . . all these years . . . was it all just a farce? Do you love me not at all? Do you truly believe that I would want to be your queen knowing that I am now, and always shall be, your second choice? Have you gone so completely crazy that you believe I would have anything to do with a man who would kill my only sister simply because she didn't love him?" She did cry then."Listen to what you just said. Last night, only last night, you assured me that you loved me. Today you have decided to once again leave me to go after my sister, and if she refuses to be the person you love, then you'll kill her and make do with me. And you think that after all that I'd marry you! I swear, Zarco, I thought this whole war was just you using your usual bad judgment in running the country, but I now see that in reality you are completely and totally obsessed. You have, in fact, gone quite mad."

  Facto walked over to comfort her, and she collapsed in tears on his shoulder.

  "Sire, surely . . ."

  Zarco laughed."Ah, and Facto, my old friend, my loyal advisor . . ." He hit a button, and the monitor played back the conversation Facto'd had with Drewcila that morning. It was pretty damning."How long have you been working for the queen?"

  "My duty is to serve both the king and the queen . . ."

  "You know what I mean, traitor. How long have you been working against me with Drewcila Qwah?"

  Facto stood tall and looked proud as he held the shattered woman."Ever since I realized that money grubbing salvager cares more about the people and the country than you do. Stasha's right; you are crazy and my duty, my real duty, isn't to serve you or Drewcila. My real duty is to serve the people of the kingdom."

  "Guards!" They appeared seemingly out of thin air."Take my sister-in-law and Chancellor Facto to the dungeon. They are both charged with high treason."

  Two guards each grabbed Facto and Stasha harshly.

  "Zarco! I beg of you, seek help, reconsider this madness!" Facto yelled as he was hauled out of the room."What crime has Stasha committed?"

  Zarco held up a hand and seemed to reconsider. He looked at Stasha, who now held her head high even if tears were still streaming down her face."Stasha, will you make a speech to the people as I asked you to do?"

  Stasha's tears stopped flowing as anger gripped every fiber of her being, and she tried to pull away from the two guards that held her. She looked at Zarco, her mouth set in a determined snarl, and for the moment she looked so much like her sister that it made Zarco flinch."I would sooner die and rot in the dungeon," she hissed.

  "Take them away!" Zarco ordered hotly.

  "Men, I beseech you," Facto started, as they were pulled towards the dungeons, "the king's thinking is skewed. He must not be allowed to do this thing."

  The guards laughed.

  "Have you failed to notice," the largest of the guards, and the one wearing Captain's insignia said, "that there has been a changing of the guards?" He laughed."Your precious salvaging whore demoted the nobility. Made us nothing. Turned our country into a land of garbage diggers. No more. With our help our good king will return the pride of our nation, and we will finally lay waste to the Lockhedes. We will use the wealth the Queen of Filth has filled her pockets and the country's coffers with to build an army that no one can stand against, and topple all who would stand in our way."

  Facto shook with the implications."Don't you see, man? You will only destroy the country. There will be great loss of life, and . . ."

  "Shut up, old man! Only the peons will die, and we shall regain our true station."

  They were shoved roughly into a cell. The door shut with a clang and locked behind them.

  Facto looked defiantly at the guard as he spoke."If you allow this lunacy to take place, all that you will have for your trouble is a smoking hole where our once great country stood. I beg of you . . ."

  The guards laughed loud enough to drown him out and walked away.

  Stasha went to sit on the hard wooden bed, which was the only furniture in the cell, and tried to contain herself.

  "My sister is walking into a trap. One that not even she can escape from," Stasha said.

  "Margot is still out. My good wife will find a way to warn the queen." As if to mock him, two more guards walked in, dragging Margot between them.

  Stasha looked up and sighed."Well, as my sister might say, we're fucked!"

  Chapter 3

  Van Gar hadn't really thought much about being unstrapped, without the benefit of seats, in the cargo bay of a ship during reentry and landing on a planet's surface. Several Chitzskies were badly injured, and no one walked onto the surface of the planet without several bad bruises.

  To make matters worse, after talking to several of the others at length, he began to get a picture of just how badly they were being scammed. If Drewcila found out what he had done, after she beat him senseless for giving away one of her ships, she was going to laugh herself into a coma at his stupidity.

  He should have known better. A lifetime as a salvager and over eight years in the company of the Queen of Grifters should have made him immune to even the best bullshit line. And the "Pride Leader" just didn't have that good a line.

  He felt like the universe's biggest idiot.

  Utarus' surface was bare and desolate, with a sparse scattering of blue and red geodesic domes—the only structures in sight. There were the beginning of what might eventually be plants, and many Chitzskies doing the work of machines—moving dirt and rocks in buckets or pushing around wheel barrows. The "Planet Coordinator's" speech started with, "This is our home . . ." and as far as Van Gar was concerned, it went downhill from there. They learned that the "Pride Leader," Reverend Pard Jar, hadn't come to the planet with them, and that no one knew his actual name. He was "sacrificing" himself, staying in space, roaming the galaxy. And he would continue to do so until he had gathered up the remnants of his people and brought them all here to fulfill their destiny.

  What the hell have I done? I left the only woman I've ever loved and a lifestyle I enjoyed to do what? Come to this godsforsaken wasteland to work myself to death. All to punish Drewcila. Drewcila, who is probably drinking the very best of alcoholic beverages, screwing whatever she likes, and living in the lap of luxury while I bake here, working my ass off to make some scam artist—who's not good enough to wipe the sweat from Drewcila's feet—rich. What the hell was I thinking? . . . That I was sick to death of being that whore's trained boy, that's what. That just once I wanted to be treated as if I really mattered, as if not just any warm body could take my place. So now I'm here, in hell, and there's no one, no one at all, to stop Drew from doing just exactly what she wants to do.

  Van Gar started yelling, and didn't appear to have any stopping point. His Chitzsky brothers and sisters all around him thought he was in a home planet-type rapture, and they all started to sing a hymn as Van Gar wished for death.

  Drewcila sat at her place on the bridge, at least for the time being everything but business forgotten. They were on their way to Barious as fast as the ship and the hyperspace by-way would allow them to go.

  She looked at the figures that poured onto her screen on the left, even as she watched news reports from Barious on the right. Neither made her very happy. Her stock was plummeting all over the galaxy, and the reason for it was clear from the newscasts. Zarco had closed down all recycling operations on the planet and put everyone to work, either drafting them to military duty or rebuilding the military equipment he needed for the war he wanted to wage.

  She was shifting shipments of salvage that were supposed to be landing on Barious to be reworked for resale to three of her smaller operations on other worlds and satellite installations, but they couldn't keep up. Key shipments were being delayed, production couldn't maintain their quotas at this rate, and salvage was stacking up everywhere. It was an incredible mess.

  Suddenly the screen showing the newscast went blank. For the next several minutes she
tried without any luck to reach Barious. Either the entire planet had just blown up, or more likely someone had detonated a communications disruptor. Technology had advanced to the point that such weapons didn't do permanent damage, however it could be hours—maybe even days—before they could repair the damage done by such an attack. Her stocks plummeted still more sharply.

  "Heads will roll," Drewcila mumbled.

  "What's that, my Queen?" Jurak asked.

  "Detonating such a device at a time of war hardly gives anyone the upper hand. You wipe out communications on the entire surface of the planet, and that more or less puts everyone in the dark. So you have to ask, 'who would gain anything from this?' Zarco, of course. Zarco is purposely keeping me in the dark. This could mean only one thing, that he is up to something—something he knows I won't like. The question is what? He doesn't have sense enough to pour piss out of a boot without directions on the side, and his only real motivation, ever, seems to be his winky. So someone else must be pulling the strings—but who?"

  She got up and started pacing back and forth, tapping her chin with her forefinger."Who would benefit by the country going to war?"

  Jurak thought for a moment."No one, my Queen."

  "Precisely . . . So the war isn't the main objective. Closing down the salvaging operation is, and who wants the salvaging operation closed down?"

  "No one, my Queen. Salvaging has made the country prosperous."

  "Which is why they hate it," she laughed out loud, and then walked over and plopped back into her chair."It's the nobility, the rich fucks, Jurak. They don't want the country to be prosperous, or the people to be happy, because then they aren't in control. They would have been against treaties with the Lockhedes from day one. It would have been easy for them to sway King Panty-waist to their side, because he's one of them." She looked back at her monitor."So, how deeply and completely are they entrenched?"

  "I . . . don't know?"

  Drew sighed."Jurak, don't take this the wrong way. You're a nice guy and all, but damn you're lame."

  "I'm sorry, my Queen."

  "Crap, not even going to argue with me," Drew muttered under her breath. She sighed again."Forget about it and get me a beer."

  "Yes, my Queen." He went over to the cooler, dug a beer out of the ice, opened it and brought it to her. She sighed again as she took it from him, and waved her hand dismissively.

  "Go on, get out of here."

  He bowed low and left.

  Drew screwed up her face and mocked him."Yes, my Queen, I'm a fucking idiot. No, my Queen, I don't have any brain at all. Who would have ever thought that the day would come when I'd grow tired of all this bowing and scraping?" She took a long drink of her beer and settled back into her chair to watch her stocks plummet and feel her blood pressure rise. She smiled as she made a decision. No doubt it would be an unpopular one, but it was one that she could live with.

  Dylan and Arcadia made their way through the palace greenery towards the back gates to the palace grounds. The gates were well guarded, and the guards well armed, so Dylan had no idea how she thought they were going to get out when they got there. Arcadia stopped short and pulled him against her into a bush full of thorns against the palace wall. As Dylan plucked a thorn from his ass, he remembered one of the reasons he hated nature so much. He soon saw the reason for Arcadia's sudden movement as two guards walked past, just inches from them. Dylan started to breathe again only when they were well gone.

  "What now?" Dylan asked in a whisper.

  "I was hoping you had a plan," Arcadia said with a hopeless sound in her voice.

  Dylan sighed. Short of an all-out attack on the rear gate, and some really good luck, he didn't have a clue."Have you noticed that they have changed the palace guard?"

  "No, they all look the same to me."

  "Well, they have. I didn't think anything of it, just thought it was part of a rotation, but now I realize that what they've done is to change guards who were loyal to Drewcila for guards who are loyal to the King. Drewcila's people would never have killed Pristin, and they certainly wouldn't be hunting us down now. I mean, you are, after all, one of Drew's favorite toys."

  "And she mine," Arcadia said in a voice filled with a smile. She suddenly jerked him around, and all sign of mirth left her face."He's setting a trap for Drew."

  "Damn! And I was counting on her to rescue us."

  "We have to get out and warn her."

  "And again I ask how?"

  Arcadia started looking around in all directions. She'd never admit it, but her feelings for Drewcila Qwah went far beyond friendship. Otherwise, she more than likely wouldn't have agreed to be one of the multitudes of people Drew slept with. Unlike their boss, Dylan got the feeling that Arcadia wasn't into screwing people just for fun and profit.

  "A frontal assault on the main gate?" Arcadia finally said, seeming to come to the same conclusion he'd come to—that it was really their only option.

  Dylan shook his head."Suicide. I'm not ready for that yet."

  Arcadia tried her wrist-com for the thousandth time, even more frantic now than she had been before, because she realized that Drew was the real target. Their communicators weren't working—some kind of jamming device had no doubt been implemented to make sure that the people on the outside were kept completely in the dark.

  "We have to do something. The courtyard isn't big enough for us to elude the guards indefinitely," Arcadia said, adding to the list of things for Dylan to worry about. Till then he had just assumed that Arcadia was so good at this that she could keep them hidden.

  Arcadia's eyes suddenly lit up, and she grabbed his hand and started pulling him along again. When he saw which way they were heading, he pulled her to a stop."Are you crazy?" he whispered."That's the bunkhouse."

  "Exactly," Arcadia said excitedly."Lots of flammable stuff . . ."

  "We start it on fire, and create a diversion," Dylan finished, looking at the blaster in his hand. He nodded his head in agreement, and they started moving again.

  He had a clear shot through the door at a mattress inside, and he took it. They moved quickly to a better hiding spot and waited. In mere minutes the bunkhouse was in flames, and as they had planned, nearly every guard on the premises went to where the excitement was. They left the back gate with only one guard, and Arcadia shot him.

  "I don't like it. I don't like it at all," Drewcila mumbled. Stocks were still plummeting, and Barious was still a complete communication wash out. She'd had to re-route still more barges loaded with salvage.

  "Jurak?"

  "Yes, my Queen?"

  "Re-route all scrap to one of our other facilities until further notice, or we have stopped this idiotic war, whichever comes first," Drew said thoughtfully.

  "But, my Queen . . . our . . . our other facilities cannot possibly handle the extra pay loads. Many people on Barious . . . They'll be without work if we . . ."

  "I know all that," Drew said hotly, pounding her fist on the console and losing all the data on her screen."Shit!" she punched buttons till she got the data back."Don't you think I know all that, Jurak? That's exactly why I didn't want this war. But your idiot king has apparently forgotten who wears the pants in the castle. Which would be who, Jurak?"

  "Definitely you, my Queen."

  "And why is that, Jurak?"

  "Because my king is an idiot?" Jurak guessed.

  "Precisely!" Drew looked up at him and smiled."See, I think you're a great guy. I wonder why none of the others like you?" She looked thoughtful for a moment."I can't be sending expensive ships loaded with expensive salvage into spaceports in a country on a planet where a war has been declared—not while I'm blind. That would just be insane. Who knows but that the entire country hasn't been overrun by the Lockhedes?"

  "What about us, my Queen?" Jurak asked nervously.

  "What about us, Jurak?"

  "What about us flying into a spaceport blind? Maybe into hostile territory?"

  "Why, it sucks, of c
ourse. Still, what choice do we have? After all . . . I am losing a shit-pot load of money." Drew got up, practically skipped over to the ice chest she kept on the bridge at all times, opened it and extracted a beer. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jurak giving her a disapproving look. She stood to her full height and popped the cap off the bottle on the corner of one of the consoles."Don't get your panties in a knot, Jurak, it's only a beer."

  "My Queen, with all due respect . . ."

  Drewcila coughed, "And that would be a lot, 'cause ah me being queen and all."