"I just wanted to report that all seems to be going as planned as concerns the banquet."
"You're a good man, Fitz." She started to go through the papers on her desk, but realized that he was still there. "Is there anything else, Fitz?"
"I was just wondering if you have heard anything this morning concerning Margot."
"I'm afraid there's been no change. The doctor says it could be hours, or it could be months."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Margot was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's a shame."
He walked away, and Drew went back to her rat killing. She looked at the papers regarding the ship she was preparing. Decision time was just around the corner, and she still had no idea what she was going to do. Since they had argued the other night, Van Gar had kept his distance, and Drew could feel a rift growing between them. She also felt a growing attachment to the country she was running, and she liked the power. She liked watching the newscasts and realizing that she was making the news. She liked the giant salvaging empire she was building. But Zarco would be back soon, and what then? The only way she could keep all this power was to keep Zarco gone, or make him dead. But Stasha loved Zarco, and she couldn't do that to her only sister. If she went back to Salvaging . . . she just didn't know if she could now. Go back to a hard life where nothing she did really seemed to matter, and the only important things in life were keeping your ship running, getting a good load, and getting shit-faced drunk.
She had become far too accustomed to snapping her fingers and having the world change to suit her needs and her dreams. It would be very hard to go back to food processors which spit out brown goop three times a day, and re-cycled water. But what could she realistically expect here? The people loved her, but the nobles hated her. Recent public opinion polls showed that ninety percent of the population was happy with the way she was running things. Zarco would have to listen to her.
Zarco. He was a major problem. He said he loved her, but she didn't love him. Stasha loved Zarco, and he didn't love her. And Drew absolutely refused to love Van Gar as long as he wouldn't love her. Someone hated her enough to kill her, and that damn Earth man was still missing. Sometimes it seemed to her that it was a hell of a lot easier to deal with the problems of an entire country than it was to tackle a single one of her personal problems.
When Fitz woke up on the morning of the day of the banquet, it was to the sound of power tools running and workers screaming. He threw on his robe and ran in the direction of the noise. When he walked into the banquet room, there were ladders and scaffolds everywhere, and twenty to thirty aliens of all descriptions were running around the room with their hands full of wire.
"What's going on?" he screamed.
"The Queen wants new lights put in for the banquet." A worker explained as he approached Fitz.
"Are you aware that the banquet takes place tonight?"
"Hang onto your hat, pops. We'll be outtah here in a couple of hours."
"Just make sure that you are." Fitz stormed off towards the Queen's office. The guards stopped him at the door and checked him with the objects detector. "What the hell . . ."
"By the Queen's orders, everyone entering her presence must be checked."
Fitz stormed into Drew's office. She stood in the middle of the room, modeling a black leather loin-cloth and vest. The vest was covered in gold chains. She looked at Fitz.
"Don't you really think you should be dressed?" he asked.
She spun around. "So, what do you think?"
Fitz threw his hands up in the air and stormed right back out of the office again.
"Maybe he's right. OK, Lulu. I'll take the black pants with the silver studs down the side and the red wrap-around shirt."
"Good choice," the leather lady said. "Anything else?"
"Ah, what the hell. I'll take this outfit, too."
The alien workers got out of the banquet room barely in time for the staff to get the room decorated and prepared for their guests. In fact, it had been so close that the finishing touches were being done as the first guests arrived. But now the guests were all present. Everything was right on schedule, and the Queen and her retinue stood poised, waiting for the last of the guests to be seated.
"This is stupid," Drew mumbled.
"Just this once, Drew," Stasha begged.
"They all have to be seated so that we can walk in and make them stand up again. That is just the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard."
Facto stood in the very back, and tried to shut the Queen's latest tirade out. He felt a tapping on his shoulder, and turned to face a young page.
"What is it, boy?"
"It's Margot, sir. She's just come to, and she says it's urgent that she speak to the Queen."
"The Queen is preparing to meet the nobles of the country. I'll go receive the message, and give it to the Queen."
The page nodded and was off.
Facto tapped on Fitz's shoulder. "I've got to go. Go on without me. I'll be back as soon as I can." Fitz made a face. "With any luck I'll be back before we go in. But it is urgent." Fitz nodded and Facto was off.
Facto ran all the way to the infirmary. The guards stopped him only briefly. He went to Margot's bedside. "My Lady?"
"Facto, where's the Queen?"
"She's getting ready to address the nobles of . . ."
"I know who's trying to kill the Queen."
The band played the Royal anthem, the huge doors opened, and the Queen entered the room followed by her retinue.
"Nice touch," she whispered to Stasha, speaking of the band.
"Harlot!" A woman in the crowd screamed and stood up. "What right have you got running our country? You're not even one of us!"
"Guards," Drew said calmly and with a smile. "Get this bitch out of my palace." The guards ran in and seized her, but she put up a fight. Then the door burst open and Facto ran in, gasping for breath.
"Stop him!" Facto screamed and pointed his finger—at whom, no one was quite sure. There was a loud hissing noise and the Queen fell to the ground. The assassin was now obvious, and having lost all hope of going undetected, he started to fire another shot at his target. Facto ran across the room and tackled him, and his weapon went spinning across the floor.
Drew lay still on the ground. Stasha leaned over her, shaking her and crying.
"Drew, Drew can you hear me?"
Drewcila coughed, "I see a light, a bright light and someone is calling me." She coughed again.
"What are they saying?" Stasha asked through her tears.
"They're saying . . ." She coughed, and her body was racked with spasms. "They're saying 'come into the light, Drew, join us.'"
"Don't listen, Drew," Stasha cried. "Don't go into the light."
Van Gar made a face. "Give it a rest, won't ya?"
"My sister's dying, you beast!" Stasha screamed back.
"I wasn't talking to you." He kicked Drew. "Come on, asshole, get up."
Drew sat bolt upright, and Stasha grabbed at her chest and gasped in shock. Drew leaned over and kissed Stasha on the cheek. In response, Stasha slapped Drew on the shoulder so hard that she rocked backwards.
"Geeze! Learn to take a joke, sis . . . So, who was it?" Drew asked.
"Fitz," Van Gar said in disbelief. He looked at Facto. "I really owe you an apology."
Facto shrugged.
"Why?" Drew asked Fitz. "I thought you liked me."
"You're destroying the dignity and beauty of our kingdom. You've turned this country into a festering heap of dung, where pageantry and honor have no place . . ."
"I disagree." Zarco walked into the room.
"Oh, Honey, you're home!" Drew skipped up to him and hugged his neck. He hugged her back, tightly. "So, can we eat now?"
Later, they all stood around Margot's bed.
"So, why did he try to kill Margot?" Stasha asked.
"I thought I saw him walk out of the archway, but I immediately dismissed it because Fitz rarely goes into the courtyard. He has violent allergies," Margot said.
"He knew Drew hadn't seen him, but he couldn't be sure that Margot hadn't, and he couldn't take any chances," Facto said.
"He must have known I'd seen him," Margot said, shaking. "I'll never forget his expression when he held that bag over my face. He looked more scared than hateful."
"Well, I for one refuse to feel sorry for him." Zarco gave Drew's shoulders a squeeze.
"Please don't misunderstand, but I want to know why the laser shot didn't hit you. He couldn't have fired it from more than six inches away." Facto said.
"Oh, it hit me. At least it would have, but I figured there would be an attempt at the banquet. Too many people were pulling for it besides Fitz—including yourself. And since everyone kept insisting that the force behind the assassin must be a member of the nobility, I figured that walking into a room full of them unprotected would have launched me right into the stupid category. That's where my old friend Jack Knife came in. As you undoubtedly know, sometimes the best offense is a good defense. Jack has weapons of all types—even the defensive ones. I had him hook up a system keyed to my body chemistry. As long as I was in the banquet room, I was protected by my own personal force field."
"The workmen Fitz was so excited about! The lights . . ."
"There never were any new lights. It was all part of the security system," Drew said.
"My King," Facto said. "It is good to have you back. And may I say that you look none the worse for wear."
"My captors were very good to me," he said.
"Do you have any idea who they were?" Facto asked.
"No, I never saw their faces. They weren't a bad lot, they just wanted change. I guess Taralin gave them something I couldn't."
Van Gar crept quietly from the room. He started down the long hall, feeling very much like a fifth wheel.
Drew looked around and noticed Van Gar was gone. She pushed away from Zarco and started for the door.
"Where are you going?" Zarco asked.
"Give me a break. I've got to go to the can, if that's all right with you."
"The bathroom," Facto interpreted.
Drew nodded and was gone.
"I think we'd all better leave and let Margot get some rest," Stasha said.
"I've been asleep for weeks," Margot protested. "I think I've had enough rest."
"Even so, I have to agree with Stasha," Zarco said. "Come on, we can talk in my office."
"About your office, Sire." Facto began yet another explanation.
Drew caught up with Van Gar.
"Van!" He stopped and turned to face her. "Where are you going?"
"I don't know, Drew. Why don't you tell me?"
"Boy, you're in a mood."
"Give me a ship, Drew. I think you owe me that for putting up with all this palace shit and being your step and fetchem boy."
Drew had an angry retort poised on the tip of her tongue, but swallowed it. "I got you a ship," she bit out.
"One that flies—now. I'm tired of being a pawn in your waiting game."
"The ship is ready for take-off, and the pilot is on board."
"Why didn't you say so?"
"I was hoping you'd want to stay here with me."
"Why? For what reason?" Van Gar looked at her in disbelief.
"I was hoping that you could answer that."
"There is nothing for me here, Drew," Van Gar said. "I just want to go."
"Vista Port, dock 19." She hugged him and stood back. "Good luck."
"You, too . . . Taralin." He hugged her tight, then let her go and walked toward the exit.
Zarco looked around his office and made a face. Beer stains on the walls and carpet. Cigar burns in all the furniture. Papers stacked haphazardly everywhere. He sat down in his chair and stretched. "There's no place like home."
"It's good to have you back . . . but . . . well, I hope I'm not out of line, Sire, and don't tell Drew I said this, but . . . well, the country's healthy. I don't approve of her methods. But while she would never admit to it, she has a genuine care for the people, and she knows how to get things done. I hope you'll listen carefully to her council in future."
"Facto, if I have learned anything from my experience, it is not to take anything lightly. Drew got the job done because she didn't care whose toes she stepped on to do it."
Zarco looked up as Drewcila walked into the room. "What's wrong?