Recycled (10 page)

"Oh, my darling," Zarco embraced her."Thank the gods you are all right. When I heard you had been caught up in the fire fight . . ."

"Fire fight, what fucking fire fight?" Drew shoved forcefully away from him."What the hell are you talking about? A Lockhede battle cruiser locked on us and opened fire. We fired back. They lost. We won. Yay, good guys! Unfortunately, our ship was buggered up, and we had to make an emergency landing. Not the easiest thing to do on a good day, and made worse because some moron screwed up all the communications on the planet and surrounding space. So, I guess what I really want to know is . . . Are we the morons that fried all the communications on this planet, or would that be them?"

Zarco turned to glare at Atario.

"Sire . . . Our ships had been ordered to that sector. I naturally assumed . . ."

"You're a lying little worm, aren't you, butt kiss? I can call you butt kiss can't I? Me being queen, and you being a flunky and all?" Drewcila said, glaring at Atario with utter contempt. He turned a very gratifying shade of red, and was visibly seething."That's what I thought." She turned her attention back to Zarco."All right, idiot, what did you do with Facto, my sister, and for that matter, all my people?"

"You will not talk to me in such a way, Taralin . . ."

"Oh, you're on that kick again, are you? So let me guess, you have put the whole country at war, ruined my profit margin, and destroyed the economy of our planet because years ago the Lockhedes kidnapped me . . ."

"The Lockhedes are our sworn enemies."

"It's in our best interest to make trade with them now. They are crippled as a nation. Let them trade with us, and they in fact work for us. We hold all the contracts, we control all the shipping, we tax the living shit out of them, and we take them over slowly, economically, and so painlessly that they don't even know what's happening till it's too late. I say let bygones be bygones, and get on with the business of commerce."

"I will not be party to mollycoddling the Lockhedes. For the gods' sake, Tara . . ." Drew glared at him. '. . . Drewcila. These monsters stole you away from me. They tortured you. They took out part of your brain."

"Gee! And what a loss that was! I could have gone on being one of you boring royal fucks the rest of my life. Oh, boo hoo, boo hoo. Get over it, move on, next page already." Drew started to walk towards the castle."You didn't answer my questions. Where are my sister and Facto?"

"I have sent Facto, his wife, and your sister, as well as your advisors to a place of safety. We can't very well have all the heads of state in one location during a time of war," Zarco answered quickly.

"Gee, now that didn't sound like bullshit at all," Drewcila whispered to Jurak, who nodded silently.

"What's that?" Zarco asked quickly.

"I asked him if, after we go through all this boring formal bullshit, he'd like to ball."

Zarco grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and spun her around to face him."Damn it . . . you will not talk this way to me. You will not. You will show me respect!"

His fingers were pressing hard on the flesh of her shoulder, hard enough to leave a bruise, but Drewcila canceled her conditioned response which was to knee him in the nuts. Right now he held all the cards. She didn't believe for a minute that he'd sent Stasha, Facto and Margot off to some safe house, and there was no way he could have forced Arcadia to leave when she knew that Drewcila was on her way. No, he had done something with them, and she had to play this game his way a couple of hands, until she found out just exactly what he had up his sleeve.

Of course, it would be easy for her to play his game, because she knew exactly what his weakness was. It was easy for her to understand, largely because she was sitting on it about half the time.

Instead of attacking him she leaned into him so that her lips brushed his ear."I like it rough." She moved and winked at him."I'll be good, daddy." She turned and started walking again, and the others followed.

"Where's your big friend?" Zarco asked, nervously looking around.

"Which one?" Drew asked a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Van Gar."

"He left me to join a religious cult," Drew answered. She didn't have to fake the sad, slightly confused tone that entered her voice.

"Is this one of your twisted jokes? A trick?" Zarco asked a hint of anger in his voice.

"Don't I wish. The bastard stole one of my best ships."

"Why?" Zarco asked curiously.

Drewcila turned, but didn't stop walking, seeming to walk backwards as easily as she walked forward, reminding him of the perfect grace she had once displayed in court."Why do you think? I started to remember." Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper."I started to remember you, being with you. Our love . . . He couldn't stand it."

Hope bloomed within Zarco, and he knew in that moment that he had his wife back. Oh, she still needed some tutorage on how to act and stay in her place, but if she remembered their great love, then everything else would come easily.

Soon Van Gar had successfully gotten the support of most of the colony. It wasn't actually very hard to convince most of his "brothers and sisters" that they were not actually better off here on Utarus than they had been when they were "strewn across the heavens." The evidence was all around them. In the hard physical labor they did daily, which brought the reward of bowls of green gloppy stuff twice a day. It was there in the constant stench from each other, and in the remembrance of what their lives had been before they had been "saved."

The real problem was that most of them had no place to go. They had given away their worldly possessions and signed over all their property and anything else they had of value. If they left here, where would they go?

That was, of course, how Van Gar had picked up all but a fistful of stragglers, by promising them that if they helped him get off the planet and topple The Reverend Pard Jar, aka the Pride Leader, that he would find them a better homeland. He didn't really figure this was too tall an order. Anything with water and plant life would be an improvement.

This angle had occurred to him one night as he lay staring at Drewcila's name stamped on the plastic-coated cardboard ceiling above him. Most of the Chitzskies had been close, so close to following him, but many were still unsure. After all, even a cardboard box on a planet of dust and rock, and green glop twice a day, was better than nothing. He'd needed something to convince them.

They'd all understood that the next ship that landed would be their chance at escape, but it wouldn't hold them all. Most of them would be forced to stay behind until other ships could be sent to evacuate them. The ship that landed wouldn't be empty, either, it would be filled to the gunnels with their Chitzsky brothers and sisters, consumed with the fever of the recently converted. They'd have to be deprogrammed. They weren't likely to give up their dreams of Utopia without a fight.

That was the real rub. Van Gar was asking them to fight their own people—something he'd learned the hard way was no small task—to make it possible for some of them to leave the planet while the rest would be expected to stay behind with the hope of being rescued. Towards what end? They had nowhere to go. They had given up everything to be here.

So leaving just didn't sound like such a great idea.

While Van Gar had been lying there trying to figure out what he could use to tip the scales in his favor, he found himself asking what Drewcila would do, and the answer had been clear. She'd feed them a line of bullshit. She wouldn't stop at just getting off the planet. Oh, no! She'd find a way to get everything that the good Reverend had stolen from his people, and she'd find a way to keep it while making all the Chitzskies believe that she was their great and unselfish savior.

So he told them that if they worked together they could get off the planet. He would take all the best fighters with him. Together they would find the "Pride Leader" and take back what was theirs. Then Van Gar would take the money and go in search of a better place for them all while they went back for the others. It wouldn't be hard to keep his promise. Property that would be deemed useless by most planets would look like heaven after Utarus. He'd buy a big plot of land for the "colony," he'd pocket the bulk of the money, and be half a galaxy away before they had a chance to realize that they'd been swindled yet again—if they ever did. And he wouldn't feel guilty, because they'd still be a hell of a lot better off than they were now.

This would be a scam worthy of the great one, and he might finally gain some respect in her eyes. Drewcila couldn't possibly ignore such a great swindle, and he'd have riches of his own, be his own man. He'd be her equal.

Of course she'd never see it that way, or at least she'd never let on that she did. But in the end, as long as he knew different, what did it matter what Drewcila or anyone else thought?

Now the plans had been made, the trap was ready, and all that was left was to wait for the ship to land.

Shreta moved to lay beside him, and he cringed."Can't sleep?" she asked.

"Not yet. I'm trying," Van Gar mustered a smile.

"Worried about tomorrow?"

"Not really. The ship will land. If everything goes as planned, by this time tomorrow we should be half a galaxy away."

"Then what were you thinking about?"

Van Gar sighed. They said it was good to talk about your problems. Who knew? Maybe if he talked about it he could get a handle on things. At the very least, maybe if she understood that he loved someone else, she'd quit her not-so-subtle attempts to have her way with him.

"Her," Van Gar said pointing at the ceiling.

"Who?" Shreta said, looking to where he pointed with confusion.

"Qwah . . . Drewcila Qwah. Do you know who she is?"

"A salvaging mogul, isn't she?"

"Yes, and Queen of Barious, and a giant pain in the ass, and . . . the only woman I have ever or will ever love," Van Gar said, his anguish clear in the tone of his voice.

"Oh," Shreta said, looking crushed."Then it's not just me?"

"No . . . Well, yes, it's you, too. I like you, but I find you sexually repulsive. Nothing personal."

"Because you love someone else?" Shreta asked hopefully.

"Yes, I suppose so," Van Gar answered kindly.

"If you love her so much, then what are you doing here without her?" Shreta asked gently.

"I . . . we had a fight. She's basically . . . well, she's an egotistical little bitch with the morals of a Farak in heat . . ." He found himself pouring out his soul to her. Even telling her what he'd come home to find."She doesn't understand why it should upset me," he finished.

"A goat?" Shreta asked.

"She said it belonged to the midget."

Shreta nodded, as if that made perfect sense."What are you going to do?"

"Clean up this mess and go back to her. Back to my life with her."

"On her terms?" Shreta obviously disapproved.

Van Gar laughed, "That's the nature of Drewcila. There are only her terms. I know that in her own way she loves me. If I just let things go, when I'm not trying to make her behave the way I want her to . . . Well, we have a really good time. We used to go everywhere and do everything together. We laughed a lot, fought side by side, and there were even moments of great tenderness. Then I . . . Well, I loved her, so I wanted things between us to change. But Drew was happy with things the way they were, and the more I tried to change things . . ." Realization suddenly dawned upon him, "the more I tried to make Drewcila do things, the more distance she put between us. The more I tried to keep her all to myself, the less time she spent with me, and the more lovers she took. She's right . . . Oh, my gods! The bitch was right. She didn't change. I did. I started making demands, and I should know better than anyone else that when you order Drew to do something, then that is the last thing she will be likely to do."

"You're actually blaming yourself for her bad behavior," Shreta said in disbelief.

"It's not bad behavior, Shreta. It's just Drew behavior." Van Gar settled back onto the floor trying to get comfortable."The way to handle Drew is not to handle her at all. Just let her do whatever she likes, and then she's happy. And when she's happy, I'm happy. Thanks, Shreta."

"Ah . . . you're welcome . . . I guess."

Zarco was exhausted. He looked over at Drewcila draped in a satin sheet, puffing on a cigar.

"That was so . . . professional," Zarco said.

"Thanks. I pride myself in being efficient," Drew answered."So now . . . let's get down to brass tacks here. You put us in a war. I don't want the war. I want it over. I want my recycling centers turned back into recycling centers . . ."

"We just made love," Zarco reminded gently.

"Gee, I said thanks," Drewcila said."What do you want, applause?"