Recycled (15 page)

So Atario walked carefully into the room himself. He saw the broken window and the king clutching his leg on the floor. He ran to Zarco's side."Sire, are you all right?"

"Do I look all right? The bitch shot me. She shot me, Atario. She wanted to kill me. My great love, my wife . . ."

Atario had heard enough. All of this trouble had come from one source, and he could easily kill two birds with one stone. He pressed the business end of his laser to the king's head.

"Oh, sire! What has that traitorous whore done to you!" he cried out.

"What the . . ." the laser beam seared through Zarco's skull and brain, killing him almost instantly.

Finding the Reverend Pard Jar hadn't been very difficult. Especially since the on-board computer came complete with a schedule of all the Reverend's appointments, and the programmed flight plan would take them right to him.

It was really a no-brainer. Pard Jar held a revival meeting, got a bunch of converts, then shipped them off to the planet before they had a chance to realize how stupid everything he said was and change their minds. Van Gar pretended like he'd known this all along, because he just felt too stupid that it hadn't actually dawned on him until he looked at the travel log.

After they had cleaned up in the flight crew's quarters and fought over who got to wear the crew's clothing, Van Gar and his recruits, for the most part, blended right in with the rest of the Chitzsky mob that had surrounded Pard Jar in the middle of the station.

He listened to Pard Jar spout his drivel and let it feed his already large stock of righteous anger. Shreta nudged him.

"You can stop kicking yourself now. I'm listening to him and wondering how any of us could have bought what sounds now like a three-day dirty Chitzsky smells," Shreta said in a whisper at his shoulder.

Van Gar turned to her, baring his teeth in an evil grin."I wasn't kicking myself. I was thinking of the many and varied ways I am going to kick his ass."

'. . . A man looks at a mountain. It is very tall, but he will climb it one step at a time," Pard Jar said.

"Why?" Van Gar yelled out.

"What, my brother?" Pard Jar asked.

"Why does he want to climb the mountain?" Van Gar screamed back.

"Because it's there, my brother," Pard Jar said with a smile."Every great journey starts with a single step . . ."

"Isn't that sort of stupid? I mean, why climb a mountain if there's nothing at the top? Now if there was a really great bar up there, or a strip club, it might be worth the trip."

Pard Jar painted on a patronizing smile before he went on as if Van Gar hadn't interrupted him."So, we as a people put our first steps upon our new homeland. Through our hard work and our conviction our world shall bloom, one step at a time, one dream at a time. We are all our own power, we feel and are felt, heal and are healed, love and are loved . . ."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Van Gar asked with a laugh."Let me get this straight. You're like this superior enlightened dude, and you can't say anything more relevant than vague shit like,
We are all our own power. We feel and are felt, heal and are healed, love and are loved.
"

He'd finally managed to rub the Reverend's fur the wrong way."Perhaps, my brother, this is not the path for you."

"Got news for you, Jack, this ain't the path for anyone. See, me and my friends bought your pretty line of bullshit. We've been to your promised land, and we feel like you screwed us out of our shit. Healing . . . that's what you're going to need after we get done beating you to a bloody pulp. And love, well we'd simply
love
to shove your crappy home planet right up your lying, cheating, thieving ass."

Pard Jar and his two "assistants" tried to make a run for it, and Van Gar's people—who had been positioned strategically close to the "Pride Leader"—grabbed them. No one in the crowd moved to help the good Reverend. In fact, they had started growling and screaming profanities at him.

Whatever spell he'd held them with had been broken, and he had instantly gone from the dimpled savior of their race to the scourge of their universe in a few short seconds.

After a few gratifying moments of them begging, pleading, and denying any knowledge of what evil Pard Jar was involved with, Van Gar decided to release the two assistants, even though he was pretty sure they were full of shit concerning their lack of involvement. He didn't want any distractions. Van Gar wanted to focus all his anger and energy on the self-proclaimed "Pride Leader."

Van Gar grabbed Pard Jar by the short hairs on the back of his neck and started dragging him back towards the ship, stopping every few feet to kick the good Reverend in the ass with his heavily booted foot."You are going to give us all of our shit back, and if you do that, I might just let you live. With a heavy emphasis on
might
."

"My brother, all of that money has gone back into the colony," Pard Jar cried.

"Hey! Dumb fuck!" Van Gar stopped long enough to haul Pard Jar to his feet. He knocked on Pard Jar's head with his fist."Is anyone home in there? We've all
been
to the colony, remember? And we've seen the ship's manifests. Not only have you got all the shit you took from us and others like us, but that stupid shitty rock we've all been hauling around is actually worth some fucking money to the Yorgites, who apparently need a mineral in the rocks as a food additive. We want all that money, too. Since we hauled all the rock, it seems only fair."

Security ran in from all directions, saw what was going on, threw up their hands to show they had no intention of interfering, and then quickly ran away again. There was no way they were going to take on an angry mob of Chitzskies, especially when they seemed content to torture one of their own.

Drewcila and her entourage walked to the nearest safe haven, a bar. It took the clientele a minute to realize who had walked into their space, but when they did, the bowing and scraping started.

"Get up, guys," Drew said as Arcadia and Facto helped her sit in a chair close to the bar."Listen, dudes, the shit has hit the fan up at the palace, and I need your help."

"Anything, my queen," the bartender said with a bow.

"I need a vehicle large enough to carry me, my two ambassadors, my councilor, and my sister."

"You can use mine," the bartender said, wading forward and putting the keys into Dylan's outstretched hand.

"I need someone to take Margot and Jurak to the nearest TV station. The people must be warned about the coup."

"I'll do it," a client said, stepping forward.

"I need your loyalty now more than ever, and I desperately need a beer," Drew said.

"Our loyalty to the queen forever!" The patrons of the bar said in unison, as the bartender opened a bottle quickly and started to pour it into a glass. Drewcila shook her head, and he handed her the bottle.

"Ah, you guys are the best," Drewcila said with a smile."I knew you'd come through for me."

"My queen, if I may . . . What has happened?"

"The nobility . . . isn't it always those assholes?" Drew took a long swig of the beer. While she was trying to keep her stomach from slinging the offering out at a high rate of speed, the patrons of the bar and the bartender all mumbled their agreement that the nobility were indeed a lot of assholes. As soon as she was sure she wasn't going to hurl, she continued."They tried to kill me with poison. They shot the king. We barely escaped with our lives."

Stasha opened her mouth to knock holes in her sister's story, and Drew shot her a look which was backed up by Dylan's hand on her elbow.

Drew set her beer down without finishing it, and got shakily to her feet. Arcadia moved quickly to steady her, and Drew looked at her with a smile."You just want to touch me, don't you?"

"That was never a question," Arcadia answered.

"I'd love to sit and chat with you, but we're awful busy. You know, saving the country, and little shit like that. Thanks for all your help, you will be adequately repaid for your service to the crown. Drinks are on me, I believe we have a fund for such things."

They started to leave, Margot and Jurak going with their ride and their instructions, as the bartender showed the queen and her entourage to his car. Behind them the bar yelled out choruses of "Long live the queen!"

Drew looked up and saw Jurak and Margot walking the other way. Jurak still had his silly hat—a rainbow colored beret—on his head.

"Wait!" Drew screamed, stopping short."Jurak, come here."

Jurak trotted over happily, thinking that perhaps he was after all important to her mission. He was feeling a little left out, and wasn't enjoying at all being treated as a common errand boy. Surely the woman could do this job without his help. His rightful place was at the queen's side.

"My queen?" he said.

"Give me that hat. I think I need it more than you do," Drew said.

Jurak looked dejected, and reluctantly pulled the hat from his head and handed it to Drew, who put it in her pocket.

"What's with the hat?" Facto asked as he watched the young man walk away with his shoulders slumped.

"I'm afraid it's over your head."

They had tied Pard Jar to a chair with self bonding duct tape.

Van Gar had let him stew there and think about what they were going to do to him for several hours. Now he paced back and forth in front of Pard Jar, a look of concentration on his face, the neck of a beer bottle in one hand and a cigar in the other. Except for Shreta, who he still didn't seem to be able to shake, the other Chitzskies were making up for lost time spending the large amount of cash they'd found in the good Reverend's hotel room on the space station to buy food and booze and anything else money could buy.

Pard Jar looked at him, tears running down his face and matting his fur."I swear to you, brother, I did none of this for my own personal gain. There is no other money! All of the money has gone to buy things for the colony and to pay for the use of the ships, for food and . . ."

"Before you go on lying out your ass, I think it's only fair I tell you that I've spent the last few hours thinking of different ways of torturing the information out of you . . ."

"Brother, what was in my room . . . That was all the money that there is, and . . ."

Van Gar stopped in front of him and stuck his cigar to the fur of Pard Jar's face, holding it there in spite of the man's thrashing until it had burned through his fur and into his flesh.

"You crazy son of a bitch!" Pard Jar screamed in pain.

Van Gar removed the cigar and took an experimental puff off it. He smiled appreciatively and took a longer drag before he spoke."Let me explain something to you. I am Van Gar, and before a moment of insanity in which I actually bought the line of crap you were selling, I was a salvager. Not just any salvager, I worked with Drewcila Qwah, I was her right hand man. In fact, I gave you one of the bitch queen's ships, and here's the thing, see? I can't go back to Drew without that ship, and if I don't get to go back to Drew soon, I'm going to get very, very cranky. I have seen the shipping manifests. You've made a small fortune off the damn rock. More than enough to buy a gazillion recycled domes. You haven't used even one ninetieth of what you've taken in on that one project alone. So you can quit wasting my time, and your breath, lying to me. I want all the money—every last cent of it. And I want my ship back, and I want it now."

"I'm telling you . . ."

Van Gar bent over, putting his face right in Pard Jar's and growled, "You better tell me what I want to hear, or I'm going to wrap my rather large fist in barbed wire and shove it up your ass!" he straightened."And that's just for starters."

Pard Jar wet his pants, giving Van Gar a whole new smell to hate."Your ship's at the end of the docks," he sobbed.

"Do I look like an idiot? I know you must have sold the ship by now and pocketed the money."

"No, I swear. It was so much better than my ship. Besides . . . have you ever tried to sell a Qwah ship? Why is everyone so afraid of your boss, anyway?"

"Because she's very rich, very powerful, and completely crazy. And she's not my boss, she's my . . . girlfriend," Van Gar growled angrily.

"Oh."

"And the money?"

"That's another reason I kept the ship." He sobbed louder."It had room for the big safe I wanted."

"You mean . . . the money's on the ship?"

Pard Jar nodded.

"All of it?" Van Gar asked in disbelief.

"Hey!" Pard Jar defended."When you're scamming your own people out of all their money, and sticking them on a stinking hole of a planet, you know there's a good chance someone's going to get pissed off and come after you. And when they do . . . Well, you want the iggys with you, don't you? Besides, if I had put the money in a bank, even several banks, someone would have figured out what I was really doing long before now. Damn! I can't believe this shit. I should have quit long ago, but no! I had to get greedy. I kept thinking, just one more space station, what could it hurt? I mean, I've been doing this shit for two fucking years! I kept deciding it was time to stop, and I'd almost do it, and then I'd remember just how God damn dumb our people are. Then when the bastards just kept mining the rock, trying to actually terraform that piss hole, and I found out that some other idiots would pay a small fortune for worthless rock . . . Well, it was just so damn easy, wasn't it?"