Recycled (32 page)

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 injury? 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."

He raised his head and looked into her eyes, searching for even a slight glimmer of mercy there."The words you speak are true, my queen, but I swear to you, had I to do it over again, I would throw all my support behind you and serve you. If you but give me a chance, I shall live out my life in service to you, even if it means washing dishes the rest of my days."

"Who is this butt-kissing scum bucket?" the Chitzsky male called Van Gar asked.

"He's the doctor who withheld treatment from our woman," the lizard woman answered.

"You know what, guys? That was only funny like the first fifty times you did it."

"
We
still think it's funny," the Chitzsky and the lizard woman said at the same time.

"And I asked you to quit doing that," Drewcila hissed, apparently at least momentarily forgetting him. She looked down the table to where her sister was picking at her dinner."What do you think, Stasha?"

"They seem to be getting along very well, and you all seem happy with the arrangement, so maybe you shouldn't worry about something as trivial as the fact that they suddenly seem to be sharing a brain as well."

"As interesting as it is, I wasn't talking about my love life. I was talking about Dr. I'm-not-going-to-give-you-the-antidote-so-that-you-puke-up-small-organs-you're-most-probably-still-using."

He looked appealingly at Stasha. He had treated Stasha for many years, and felt he had a rapport with her. Besides, she was no doubt still angry over Drew shooting Zarco in the leg.

Stasha shrugged."I don't know. I can't think about anything but the funeral."

"How's that coming?"

"All right I guess. Mother and father are coming in tomorrow. They aren't terribly happy about having a Chitzsky for a neighbor, but said they were happy that at least you weren't slinging them into the streets with the rest of their friends."

"Yeah, well, you tell them I want a birthday present this year, or that could change real quick."

"I think we should kill him," Arcadia said, fixing him with a stare that made his blood run cold. She got up and started moving towards him. Sortas steeled himself for the coming attack, but the Chitzsky grabbed the lizard woman's shoulder and stopped her forward progress.

"I have a better idea," Van Gar said, and fixed his eyes on the ugliest creature Sortas had ever seen, who was sitting halfway down the table.

The lizard woman let out a laugh, then yelled, "Hey, Shreta! Come here!"

The creature got up and lumbered over to them."What do you think of this one?" Van Gar asked.

"He doesn't have much hair."

"So?" Van Gar asked.

"He's kind of dirty and old."

"Shit! He'll clean, girl," Van Gar said."Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'Beggars can't be choosers'?"

"Yeah, you got a point there," Shreta said. She looked him up and down."Could I maybe see his down-below?"

"Yes, that's reasonable. Sortas, rise and show us all your down-below," Drewcila said with a broad hand gesture and a smile.

Sortas got to his feet, "My Queen, I'm afraid I don't understand . . ."

For answer, the queen poked her finger at his crotch.

"Your package, Sortas. You said you'd serve me the rest of your life if I would pardon you. Well, it seems we've found you a suitable position, and the lady wants to see your package."

Sortas looked the ugly woman up and down as he realized what they had in store for him."But, my queen . . ."

Drewcila's blaster seemed to all but fly from its holster, and then she was pointing it at his head."Drop your pants, show us your goodies, or die."

Sortas wouldn't have thought he could have exposed himself any faster. The creature looked at his privates, licked her lips, and smiled. The queen nodded, and he pulled his pants up and fastened them, feeling as humiliated as he was sure he could feel . . . until the huge hair-covered creature grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him out of the room screaming, "Come on, baby! Mamma's gonna ride you like a bull!"

"Noooooo!"

"Well?" Ralling asked as Tryte walked in flanked by the generals of the Army and Navy.

"There are tanks, lots of tanks. We can't really say how many, though. We saw aerial photos, but . . . well, they also have anti-aircraft guns, and . . ." He cleared his throat and continued, "We've sent out three piloted planes and six drones, and none of them have been able to do more than get a couple of pictures back before they were blown out of the sky."

"So . . . why am I getting the feeling that you somehow think all of this is good news?" Ralling asked.

"Well, sir, because we know right where they are, and they couldn't possibly have many more tanks. It shows that while she may be a good public speaker, she is a lousy general. I'd say she's put all her tanks and those Chitzsky ground troops all in the same place, and we know where that is. So, we send a full aerial assault, and in three or four passes we've wiped them out completely. We cripple their ground capabilities, and without that they can't fight a successful campaign. They're expecting us to hit one of their bases, and then they're going to hit Yeoul base in retaliation with these weapons and troops. But they can't do that if the target we hit are the troops they plan to retaliate with. Her military ignorance will be her undoing. That General of hers is far too pretty to be any good. He gives great speeches, but he's no strategist."

"Tryte . . . if we go to bomb these tanks and the alien ground troops, and we fail, I'll see you court-martialed and hung before I sign a treaty with Drewcila Qwah. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. President. I won't let you down this time."

Sortas had never taken such a long shower in his life, but it hadn't stopped the inevitable. He walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist into a room so dark he couldn't really see where he was going.

"I figured it would be easier for you this way," she said.

"Thanks," he answered back. He steeled himself, threw off the towel, stumbled through the dark, and crawled in bed with the huge female, who was easily six inches taller than he was. It was really dark, and it was true that that made it easier, but she was still covered with hair. Of course, when he let himself get over the initial shock of it, he had to admit that it actually felt pretty good against his skin.

"You don't really have to do this if you don't want to," she said in a quiet voice."I understand, and I'll tell them that you did."

"No! I mean, I told the queen I'd serve her if she would spare my life, and if this is what I must do to please her . . ."