Drew stomped into her room. She took her holster off and slung it at her bed, gun and all.
"Well, that's real safe, Drew," Van Gar said.
She swung around to face him, not at all surprised to see him. "You'll never believe what that pompous Royal fuck wanted."
"I can guess."
"Yeah, well he wanted me to do it, and he wouldn't give me a car. He expected me to have sex with him and not get anything out of it."
"Wow! What a strange guy," Van Gar said facetiously.
"I would have done it for a car, but there's no way I'm doing it for free."
"You'd sleep . . . For a car, Drew? You'd really fuck him for a car?"
"I don't know what you're bitching about! The car was for you."
Drew flopped down on the bed beside her gun.
"What a day!"
She reached back and picked up a book off the middle of her bed, and opened it.
"Did you ever find the human?" She asked.
"No," Van gar looked at the book in Drew's hand, and made a face, "when did you start reading the classics?"
"It takes my mind off of all the shit. But I'm not sure that these books which have been translated and rewritten twenty times follow the original text."
"What's it about?" He sat down on the bed beside her.
"It's about a piece of farming equipment that's possessed by the spirit of an undead creature. The possessed tractor has these huge rows of blades and it runs around tearing the groins off of people, twelve at a time."
"That sounds like a happy little story."
Van Gar lay down beside her and propped himself up on an elbow so that he looked down at her.
"I know something else that would take your mind off the day's events, and help you to relax."
The look in his eyes left no room for misinterpretation.
"I wouldn't want to disappoint you."
"Drew, at any moment that mob may reform outside the palace walls and we could all die. Do you really want to die . . ."
"You've used that line already," she interrupted with a smile.
"I'll get you a car."
She jumped up and took his hand.
"You're on, you sweet talker, you."
"Where are you taking me?" He allowed himself to be pulled along.
"Why, into the wall, of course, you silly boy!"
He gave her a skeptical look.
"It's a hologram. According to Margot, she and I are the only ones that know where the controls to shut it off are. So, no one will be able to see us. And if someone comes in, I can sling on my robe and walk out, and no one will even know you were here."
"You've planned this all out."
"I wasn't the one that was disappointed."
She dragged him through the hologram into the closet. The copy of Rob Deed's novel, Succumbind, lay forgotten in the middle of the bed.
An hour later, the door opened and two men rushed in.
"So, where is she? Where is the Queen?"
One of them walked to the bed and picked up the book. Then he slung it down in disgust.
"We don't have time to look for her, come on. We've got what we really need."
They ran out and the door closed behind them.
Drew had almost finished putting on her robe when they ran out. She looked at Van Gar and shrugged.
"I guess it couldn't have been very important." She started taking the robe off.
"Who were they?"
Drew shrugged, and slung off the robe. "I don't know, but they certainly have no regard for art."
"Drew, Drew!" Stasha screamed. "Oh, no!" She looked at the two guards with her. "They must have gotten her, too. Go and tell the others . . ."
"My lady, perhaps one of us should stay with you . . ."
"That won't be necessary. Go! Go!"
As soon as she was sure they were gone, she flopped down on the bed and started to cry. Suddenly she felt a comforting hand patting her shoulder. She assumed it was her mother or father, and she cried all the louder, knowing that she had support.
"Geez, Stasha, what's wrong?" Drew asked in the most comforting tone she could muster.
Stasha spun around.
"Drew!" She hugged her sister tightly.
"Stasha this is to kinky, even for me."
"I thought they took you, too."
"What the hell are you talking about, Stasha?"
"Some of the guards," she wiped her nose on the back of her hand in a very un-lady-like fashion. "They were apparently part of some internal rebellion. They are holding Zarco, and they say that unless their demands are met, they'll kill him."
"I guess that's who those two clowns were who ran in here last night. I was in the closet so they didn't see me."
"Why were you in the closet?" Stasha asked. She saw the evil grin on her sister's face. "On second thought, don't tell me." She started to cry. "Oh Drew, they're going to kill Zarco. You have to do something."
"Ah, they ain't gonna kill him. Rough him up a little maybe. But if they kill him, they'll lose their bargaining power, and they're not so stupid as to think that we could let them live. I doubt they are desperate enough to want to die for their cause."
Stasha dried her eyes.
"Where were you?"
"I told you, I was in the closet."
"Why?"
"You said you didn't want to know," Drew said with a smile.
"He's here, isn't he?"
"Who?" Drew asked with well-fiend innocence.
"Well, unless you're a bigger whore than I think you are, Van Gar."
Drew smiled eagerly and clapped her hands together. "If it is Van Gar, does that mean I'm just a tiny whore?"
Stasha shook her head as Van Gar walked out of the closet wearing the Gildart guard uniform that he, like Drew, had taken to as everyday attire.
"Oh, Drew! What about Zarco?"
"No, I'm not sleeping with him."
"That's rather the point, Drew. You're not even giving him a chance."
"Hey!" Drew said in self-defense. "He wouldn't even give me a car!"
"What?"
"Don't ask." Van Gar warned dryly.
"We'd better go tell them that you're still here. Come on." Stasha got up and started pulling her sister along after her.
"Oh, it's so good to be Queen," Drew droned in a dull monotone voice as she allowed herself to be pulled along.
"I can't believe it," Fitz said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Members of the palace guard abducting the King—traitors among our own ranks."
"Remember what the Queen and her friend said about low pay? Perhaps they were right," Facto said.
"The King and the Queen stolen right from under our noses! Abducted while they slept!"
"Well, like it or not, Fitz, you know who that leaves in charge."
The door opened and Stasha swept into the room, pulling Drew behind her.
"The Queen!" Facto screeched in horror.
Drew smiled broadly, rubbing her hands together. "Well, boys, there's gonna be some changes roun' here."
Fitz fainted dead away.
Drew sat in the King's throne, wearing her uniform and her side arm. She had a beer in one hand a cigar, in the other.
"Whenever you're ready, my Queen," the camera man said.
Drew took in a deep breath. This was it, the biggest scam of her life. This was the deal she was going to be talking about when she got old. This was the story all salvagers would know by heart. This was the moment of truth. She was about to become a legend. "Roll em!"
She watched the light they had told her would indicate when the cameras were running. When it lit, she began.
"My friends, I'm afraid the news I must relay to you is not happy. In the night, some misguided souls broke into the palace, killed several guards, and abducted the King. I was only spared capture by the diligent efforts of the palace guards. The abductors now ask for a huge amount of money to release the King. As you know, it is not the policy of this reign to negotiate with terrorists. My five year absence is the proof of just how rigid we are on this matter.
"Until the King is released, I will be in charge, and I hope that I can serve you well. The cards and letters have been flooding in, and I am reading as many as possible. Hopefully, the terrorists will realize that their only chance for survival is to deliver the King safely to us. But, in the meantime, I will fill my empty time by working night and day to cure the ills of our ailing country. Thank you." She worked up a tear.
The cameras went off, and she stepped down. She looked at Facto. "Call a meeting of the advisory Council at once."
"Are you sure, my Queen?"
Drew glared at him.
"At once my Queen." He bowed and went off to do her bidding.
The advisory council and the newsmen waited patiently for the arrival of the Queen. When she appeared, Fitz, Facto, Van Gar, Stasha, and five well-armed guards accompanied her.
"All hail Taralin Zarco, Queen of all Gildart," the herald announced.
She smiled at him as she walked by. "Nice touch." She walked over, flopped down in her chair, and the others assembled themselves around her.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. Now, let's see, what did I have in mind? Oh, yes. You're all fired."
The noise from the group was deafening.
"Silence!" The herald ordered.
"You are all fired. Your salaries are to be stopped at once. Why am I being such a hard-ass? Well, maybe it's because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Or maybe it's because my cereal lost its crunch in milk. Or maybe it's because I have a whole lot of trouble believing that a bunch of fat-assed bureaucrats, whose idea of struggling is when their holo-deck won't work, have any grasp of what real people go through at all. Maybe it's because I believe that being unemployed in the middle of a post-war depression will give you a better grasp of what is really needed to turn this country around, and make you more able to advise me in the future. But for now, consider yourselves on the unemployment line with everyone else."
She paused for effect, then went on.
"Now, a message to the people. A hundred positions are now open. The jobs will pay minimum wage, and will be temporary. The job is to read the tons of mail we are receiving from the public, and keep a tally of the gripes and recommendations so that I may tackle the most egregious problems first. Apply at the palace gates. Oh, and before I forget. Former members of the advisory council are eligible to apply. That will be all for now."
As the room started to empty, Drew turned to Fitz.
"Get me all the files pertaining to the war. Specifically, any files which deal with the statistics on the loss of equipment in the field, and where that equipment was last known to be. Also, I want to know the location of every re-cycling plant in the country, and how much of what it puts out is used here."
"I can answer that now," Facto hissed. "Gildart does not use its trash. We throw it away."
"Then you're all idiots!" Drew screamed in his face. "Don't talk to me in that tone of voice, Fuckto, or I'll have you beheaded, or something like that. While Zarco's away, I have the power." She laughed wickedly. "Now," she cleared her throat authoritatively, "I want to know how much trash we make a year in tons. I want to know how many spaceports we have, what we import, what we export, and how many ships there are in the Royal Navy."
"So, that's it, then," Facto frowned. "In the King's absence, you're going to implement your maniacal plan to make Gildart the center of the Salvaging universe."
"Ooh you're pushing the beheading thing, Fatso." Drew smiled. "I didn't get to be the best Salvager in the galaxy by not jumping on opportunity. Trust me. Yes, of course I am doing this for purely selfish reasons, but the country will benefit from it. In fact, it will thrive."
Facto nodded. This at least was something he could believe. Drew would do what was best for the country, as long as it profited her.
"What about the King?" Fitz asked.
"What about him?" Drew asked.
"Shouldn't we try to find him?"
"Do you know where he is?"
"No," Fitz answered.
"Well, neither do I," she shrugged. "OK, we've wasted enough time on that shit. On to more pressing matters. I need an inter-stellar comlink, and I need it yesterday."