Recycled (24 page)

"Dylan, can you hear me, man?" Drew asked.

There was a muttering sound that echoed from his lips.

"What did he say?" Arcadia asked at her shoulder.

"Sounded like, go on, leave me here, save ourselves." Drew started to leave, and Arcadia grabbed her arm and shook her head no.

Drew sighed, and she and Arcadia put their shoulders to the chunk of rubble."Hey, you think some of you stupid media fucks could stop filming long enough to help us out here?" Drew ordered.

They slung their equipment down, still running—after all, they didn't want to completely lose the moment—and helped. Arcadia pulled Dylan out as soon as his leg was free and slung him unceremoniously over her shoulder. They started running again. They finally made it out of the building and onto the loading bay. Above them was an air fight of epic proportions, and it was impossible to see who was winning. Not that it really mattered, because down here on the ground, where they all were, all that really mattered was that all the shit that was being shot off machines above them was falling around their heads.

They made a run for the Garbage Scow. When they were all in, Drew closed the hatch and ran for the flight deck."All hands prepare for escape velocity."

"What?" Arcadia asked in a near panic.

"Hang with me, chick, I've got a plan. Everyone strap in, secure the wounded." Drewcila launched herself into her seat, punched some buttons, and the ship's engines came on line and started powering up."Take off in ten, nine, eight . . ." She punched the launch button, and they shot up in the air like a cat with a firecracker up its ass. Debris and a small ship or two bounced off their hull, doing little or no damage.

"You skipped a bunch of numbers, Drew!" Arcadia accused, hanging on for dear life to a seat she hadn't had time to fasten herself into.

"Well, here they are. Pulling the warp engine off line in seven, six, five, four, three . . ."

"Are you fucking crazy!" Arcadia forced herself into the seat, and quickly fastened her harness.

'. . . two, one." Drew took the warp drive off line, and the ship stopped abruptly, and then started falling. She put the interplanetary engines on line, and their decent slowed. They finally stopped just a few thousand feet above the dog fight below.

"Arcadia . . .

"Can't talk. Stomach in tail," Arcadia said with a gulp.

"Take command of the weapons console."

Arcadia nodded, silently unstrapped herself, got up, staggered to the appropriate console, and strapped herself in, double-checking her harness.

"Van Gar, this is Drewcila. Where are you?"

"I was on my way to the capital. What in hell's name are you doing? Trying to rip your ship in two?"

"It would take a hell of a lot more than that to blow my ship. I'm in a fucking planet of trouble here, Van. Hepron Station—you know, the same Hepron Station where all my iggys are?—is under fire. I swear, it looks like the Lockhedes sent their entire fleet. I blew out of there quick because I wanted to be on top of the bastards, not under them."

"Well, that at least makes sense."

"I'm going to attack."

"Are you fucking nuts?"

"I didn't know that was ever a question. Get your ass over here and back me up."

"Drewcila . . ."

"I'm going in. Are you going to come back me up, or leave me blowing in the wind?"

"I'm coming, but at least wait for me."

"No can do. They killed my favorite lackey, and I'm royally pissed," Drew said simply and started the ship moving again. She looked at Arcadia, who was silent now."Well, aren't you going to tell me that we don't need him here?"

"No. I know you well enough to know that whatever you're planning probably is insane. We definitely do need Van Gar now. His skill was never in question." She smiled then."If it had been, he wouldn't have been any competition whatsoever."

Dartan had forced his crew to follow him to the bridge where the queen had said they could stay, but that they would have to find something to strap themselves to, as she fully intended to join the battle. Dartan had never stopped reporting, and his crew had never stopped shooting, and they were running live all over Barious. This was the story, this was the moment for which he would be remembered throughout the history of Barion journalism, and since he might very likely get killed in the next few minutes, he was going to make it count.

"The queen has moved her ship into a position where she can very easily see the battle going on below us and over Hepron Station. Our forces are obviously taking a beating. But the queen's ship is a large class freighter with a very thick hull, and we are told it carries more weapons than it's legally allowed to carry . . ."

"Hey, idiot boy!" Drew screamed."Did it ever dawn on you that the Lockhedes might actually watch TV, too? Why don't you just go ahead and tell them exactly where we are and how to kill us!"

"Sorry," Dartan said sheepishly.

"Don't be sorry, be smart."

Dartan nodded."Cut the audio. For now stick with visual."

The queen stuck a cigar in her teeth and lit it with her laser side arm. The ship seemed to have momentarily stopped. The Queen took a long draw on the cigar and holstered her side arm. Leaving the cigar clenched between her teeth, she puffed the smoke out and then announced through her teeth."Hang on, boys and girls. It's party time!"

She punched it, and the ship went screaming into the battle. It hit two small enemy planes, and they blew up. Apparently the ship was big enough and strong enough that such impacts did no damage at all.

Then the ship seemed to spin completely around.

"Targeting frigate," Arcadia announced. The ship lurched with the recoil as the guns fired a large missile. The frigate exploded in a ball of fire, and Drewcila pulled the nose of the ship up and over the burning wreckage.

Dartan figured out what was happening. The queen was maneuvering the ship into the best firing position, and the lizard woman manning the weapons station was targeting and firing at the precise moment that it would do the most damage. To do this as successfully and as seemingly effortlessly as they were doing it, it couldn't have been the first time. Drewcila moved the ship through the corridors of both enemy and friendly planes and ships, targeting the bigger and more dangerous Lockhede ships. The Valtarian aimed and fired, picking them off with deadly accuracy. But they were starting to take hits themselves now, and the computer was squawking about where and to what extent the ship was being damaged. It looked like they had met their end when they came nose to nose with a large frigate that had her canons aimed right at them. If they both fired, they'd both get hit, and one of them would go down. The other ship didn't seem as damaged as theirs sounded like it was. Then suddenly the ship in front of them exploded.

"What took you so long?" Drewcila asked with a hint of laughter in her voice.

"I hit traffic," a strong male voice replied.

Dartan looked at her, and longed to tell the people what he was seeing. She wasn't afraid. There was part of her, perhaps the larger part, that was actually enjoying this. There was no fear on her face, nor in the voice of whoever had just ridden to their rescue.

"Target?" the male voice asked.

"Ship eight," she answered, and Dartan assumed they had some grid that marked the ship's locations and numbered them to make it easier to target."You go starboard."

"Got you. On your command."

"Now."

The entire complexion of the battle changed in that moment. No longer were they the defenders; they had become the aggressors. As he had watched the queen and Valtarian work together as if one, these two ships and their crews now worked together—creating a greater unity. Two ships moved as if with one mind, zeroing in on targets, watching each other's backs, and totally crushing the enemy. All around him he could see the ship's crew—he guessed they were techs—running around making repairs even as the ship lurched and bucked and changed speed. They were on long harnesses which he assumed gave them some protection from the ship's lurching, but didn't keep them from being knocked down. They would get knocked down, get right back up again, and continue the work they had been doing as if nothing had happened. This ship's crew was a strange mixture of Barions and aliens from every corner of the universe, and at least for this moment it was only their appearance that was different.

It seemed like hours, but it probably wasn't more than fifteen minutes before the Lockhedes turned tail and started to run. They were retreating, and Dartan was sure they would be allowed to retreat.

"Run them down and destroy them!" Drewcila ordered.

"But, my queen . . . they are retreating," Dartan objected.

"Then it will be harder for them to fire on us, won't it?"

And it was. In minutes the remaining Lockhede vessels were blown out of the sky.

"Hepron Station, do you read?" Drewcila asked as they turned to head back in the direction of the station.

"Aye, aye. The tower's hit, but still standing," a female voice replied.

"Good . . . Call all ships back to the station. Remain on Dirty-Red-Dog-Alpha-6-Alert until told otherwise. Start repairs at once. If they have intelligence anywhere near, I want them to think that they have done minimum damage. Get rid of the bodies as quickly as possible. We want morale to stay high, and there is something about dead bodies that just brings down the spirit of the whole place."

"Sorting the bodies from the rubble alone could take weeks," the voice answered.

"Then don't sort the bodies from the rubble. Find an empty canyon. Shove all the debris, bodies and all, into piles. Cart it off and dump it in the canyon. I don't even want you to worry about the recyclable materials. Right now image is everything. If they think they have lost a huge chunk of their fleet and haven't given us more than a scratch, their morale, which was already low to begin with, is going to plummet."

"But Drew . . . people will be asking about their loved ones. They'll want to bury them . . ."

"They're going to be buried. I don't have time for a whole lot of sentimental bullshit. If I can throw away perfectly good trash, then they can deal with losing a few bodies. If someone doesn't call home, it means they're dead. When we get done cleaning up the mess we'll cover the debris with dirt, and I'll have a huge memorial erected there with the names of all the dead on it to commemorate those who fell because of Zarco's absurd stupidity."

"Zarco's?" Dartan asked in confusion.

"Did I say Zarco? I meant to say Atario. Their names sound alike. Don't you think they sound alike?"

"Ah . . . I guess so," Dartan said.

Drew smiled broadly at him."Oh, I do so love a man who humors me."

Van Gar lay in the huge bed, stared up at the ceiling, and didn't even try to pry the stupid grin from his face.

Drew lay with her head on his chest, almost but not quite asleep, and at least for the moment all seemed right with his world.

"You suppose blue blood is going to be any harder to get out of the carpets than regular blood?" Drew asked sleepily.

Van Gar laughed."Could you have really just run off and abandoned them?"

"If I could have gotten my iggys? In a fucking heartbeat. This kingdom is like a bad investment, if you can't sell the son of a bitch you grab all the liquid assets and walk away. Unfortunately, I couldn't get to my liquid assets."

"If you say so, Drew," Van Gar laughed.

"Don't you start with me. I'm ruthless and self serving, and I like me that way," Drew said emphatically."I wish everyone would quit insinuating that I've grown some kind of conscience! Why the very thought makes me want to vomit."

Van Gar wrapped his arms tightly around her and kissed the top of her head."I was . . . it was stupid for me to leave you, Drew, over something so trivial . . ."

"As four guys, two chicks, a midget and a goat," she supplied.

"For any reason," he said through gritted teeth.

"It certainly was. And joining a crack pot religious cult run by some second-rate grifter . . . well, that was just fucking priceless," Drew said with a laugh."Next time you're going to punish me, you might try something less masochistic."

"Well, I did turn all that around," Van Gar reminded her quickly.

She picked her head up and turned to look at him momentarily."Oh, do tell?" She kissed him, then lay her head back on his chest.

She sounded genuinely interested, so he told her the whole story, adding special emphasis to the parts where he had been particularly clever, brave and/or tough. Skipping over the part where he was stupid enough to actually believe Pard Jar, instead insisting that it had been his plan to take everything away from the religious freak all along. He completely left out the part where he'd gotten his ass kicked by the foremen and had been forced to work for green glop.