Recycled (35 page)

"But why did no one see the assassin?" Dartan asked.

"Now he wouldn't be a very good assassin if he could be seen and caught, would he? They have a device—very expensive and very tricky—but when used by someone who knows how to use it properly, it bends and reflects light so well that the wearer is almost invisible . . ."

"So you weren't talking to yourself that day in the office," Van Gar said.

"Of course not. Now that would just be crazy."

"Drewcila!" Arcadia called out, weaving with her drink as she walked through the crowd."Your tongue! It's finally back to normal."

Drewcila held up the champagne glass till she could see herself, and then stuck out her tongue."Well I'll be damned. It is! Now doesn't that just figure!"

"So what now?" Facto asked.

"What?"

"You can't leave, Drewcila. Not now."

She put a friendly arm around his shoulders."Now, Sucknoid, I think you're forgetting your place. You don't tell me what to do."

Van Gar was anxious to hit the road, board the Garbage Scow and get the hell off this planet. He didn't know why he had ever for a second embraced the notion that he could be happy living planet side.

It was more than two months since the war, and that was more than enough time to spend in one place.

Drewcila was walking down the hall towards him, carrying a small bag. Arcadia, who had apparently spent the entire two months they'd been stuck here buying new clothes and accessories, was pulling along a trunk as big as she was. Facto was chasing along behind them. Stasha, Dartan and Dylan were following Facto.

"You cannot go!" Facto insisted, shaking his head frantically.

"You keep saying that, and yet here I am, me, still going," Drewcila said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"There are matters of concern which you need to address . . ."

"Look, I married a nice Barion boy just like you asked," she said pointing a finger at Dartan.

"Your sister married him . . ."

"The people don't know that. I bought a studio, so now it should be easier than ever to make people believe that she's me. All the press meetings, royal this and royal that, will look better than ever. Anything big comes up, you just ask me and I'll tell you what to do. Dylan, Shreta and Sortas are going to run the recycling business planet side. Hepron Station's almost back on line. The Lockhedes are completely under control, and well on the way to becoming a productive part of our little salvaging empire. There is nothing more for me to do here but lay around drinking and screwing and getting fat, and you don't want me getting fat, do you Fractoady?"

"Drewcila, please reconsider," Facto pleaded."What about the nobles who picket the castle daily demanding that their family members which you have enslaved here be freed, and that they be treated fairly?"

"I've just this morning dealt with that, and they will all be gone by the end of the day. Don't ya get it, man? I trust you to handle the little shit, and I know you'll contact me if anything big enough to warrant my attention should occur in my absence," Drew said, patting him on the back."I have places to go and people to do."

Van Gar and Arcadia turned on her, growling. She smiled her most winning smile."I was, of course, talking about you, dears."

She moved to nudge Dartan."You know how it is, man? The old balls and chains. He has the balls, she's into the chains."

They all exchanged goodbyes, and then watched as the three walked to their ship.

"Where do you suppose they'll go?" Stasha asked Dylan, no doubt because he was like them—a salvager.

"I have no idea," Dylan said, drying a tear from his eye. He'd really miss Arcadia, but didn't begrudge her happiness. Everyone had to do that which made them happy, and at least for the time being, what made him most happy was servicing as many of the Barion women as he could. It still seemed like a calling to him.

Dylan was glad that Stasha had decided not to hold a grudge. It would have made it hard for him to continue working here if she had. She seemed very happy with Dartan, and he with her, and the whole kingdom was rejoicing over their coupling, even if they didn't exactly know the truth, which was that Dartan wasn't really their Queen's Consort, and that their queen had taken off for parts unknown with her two very different alien "companions."

Everything was happily back to normal, and to celebrate the normalcy, he walked off to the bar. On the way, he passed the guards who were hustling the nobles out of the castle, and from what they were saying, they were gathering up the picketers out by the front gates as well. He didn't know what plans Drewcila had for them, and he really didn't care. The bastards had killed Pristin and upset his normal routine. They deserved whatever they got, as long as it was bad.

He walked in the bar, and found Shreta and Sortas already there.

He laughed as he sat down at the bar next to them."So, you two decided to start the day early, too."

"Yeah, dude, thought we'd grab a couple ah brews and get in the mood for work," Sortas said. Dylan bit his lip to keep from laughing at him. Sortas' effort to sound just like a salvager would have been really funny if he wasn't so damn sincere. This guy had done the fox hole conversion from hell. He walked, talked, dressed, and acted like a salvager. Hell, he even smelled like one of them, and in a couple of months he had learned almost as much about the business end of it as Pris had known.

Dylan looked from himself to his two new friends and realized the bitch had done it again. Drewcila had put together the perfect crew.

Drewcila sat at the helm. It was good to be in space again. and even better to be in space with her two favorite people. She was very happy with the arrangement. Not that she was ever likely to tell them that. In her experience, other people were only truly happy with an arrangement if they thought you were at least a little unhappy with it.

She was also pleased with her decision to leave Barious, and the direction she now wanted to take with her life. Being queen was only really fun when she got to do it in short bursts. Doing it all the time could turn into a real drag.

"So, where to, Captain?" Arcadia asked.

"In search of Salvagers Gold," Drewcila said.

"You mean . . ." Van Gar started excitedly.

"That's right. We're going to search the galaxies for the biggest salvaging scores. The rich stuff that's been lost in space so long that no one knows where it's at, or where it came from, or if it's even real."

Pard Jar looked up at the incoming ship. It would carry away the rock they had gathered, and as payment it would leave them food and clothing and farming implements—all by the grace of Qwah-Co Industries. He snarled. He supposed he was reaping what he had sown. But he'd had all kinds of really cool shit, and now he had nothing, and that hardly seemed fair to him.

Twenty of his "followers" had refused to leave his side, which of course proved that they were the very stupidest of a pretty damn dense race. So he spent his days hauling rock with the imbeciles, and his nights sleeping in a dome he shared with "his" female. She smelled so bad, and was so stupid, he'd almost have rather lived alone if it wasn't for the fact that the nights got cold.

Like children, they all eagerly ran towards the landing pad, hopeful that their "parents" had brought them gifts. Something to eat other than that green glop would be nice. The glop was worse for him than it was for the others because he actually knew what was in it.

The engines died, the dust settled, and then the hatch opened. To his amazement, several hundred Barions, wearing the robes of the brotherhood were forced off the ship onto the surface of the planet. A Chitzsky walked out of the ship, unrolled a scroll, and began to read. Pard Jar wondered why they couldn't have just used a palm pilot.

"By order of Her Royal Majesty, Queen of Barious, we do claim this planet, and announce its use as a prison colony." He rolled his scroll up and put it away, then addressed the group as a whole."Bring rock, and we shall supply you with all you need. No rock? No food."

A Barion man who had obviously been bounced around upon entry limped up to Pard Jar with pleading in his eyes."Please, sir. This is all a dreadful mistake. I am of noble birth."

Pard Jar looked with total disdain at the man in front of him, then turned to the Chitzsky who stood beside him.

"Well, there goes the neighborhood."

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15