treated as if I really mattered, as if not just any warm body could take my place. So now I'm here, in hell, and there's no one, no one at all, to stop Drew from doing just exactly what she wants to do.
Van Gar started yelling, and didn't appear to have any stopping point. His Chitzsky brothers and sisters all around him thought he was in a home planet-type rapture, and they all started to sing a hymn as Van Gar wished for death.
Drewcila sat at her place on the bridge, at least for the time being everything but business forgotten. They were on their way to Barious as fast as the ship and the hyperspace by-way would allow them to go.
She looked at the figures that poured onto her screen on the left, even as she watched news reports from Barious on the right. Neither made her very happy. Her stock was plummeting all over the galaxy, and the reason for it was clear from the newscasts. Zarco had closed down all recycling operations on the planet and put everyone to work, either drafting them to military duty or rebuilding the military equipment he needed for the war he wanted to wage.
She was shifting shipments of salvage that were supposed to be landing on Barious to be reworked for resale to three of her smaller operations on other worlds and satellite installations, but they couldn't keep up. Key shipments were being delayed, production couldn't maintain their quotas at this rate, and salvage was stacking up everywhere. It was an incredible mess.
Suddenly the screen showing the newscast went blank. For the next several minutes she tried without any luck to reach Barious. Either the entire planet had just blown up, or more likely someone had detonated a communications disruptor. Technology had advanced to the point that such weapons didn't do permanent damage, however it could be hours—maybe even days—before they could repair the damage done by such an attack. Her stocks plummeted still more sharply.
"Heads will roll," Drewcila mumbled.
"What's that, my Queen?" Jurak asked.
"Detonating such a device at a time of war hardly gives anyone the upper hand. You wipe out communications on the entire surface of the planet, and that more or less puts everyone in the dark. So you have to ask, 'who would gain anything from this?' Zarco, of course. Zarco is purposely keeping me in the dark. This could mean only one thing, that he is up to something—something he knows I won't like. The question is what? He doesn't have sense enough to pour piss out of a boot without directions on the side, and his only real motivation, ever, seems to be his winky. So someone else must be pulling the strings—but who?"
She got up and started pacing back and forth, tapping her chin with her forefinger."Who would benefit by the country going to war?"
Jurak thought for a moment."No one, my Queen."
"Precisely . . . So the war isn't the main objective. Closing down the salvaging operation is, and who wants the salvaging operation closed down?"
"No one, my Queen. Salvaging has made the country prosperous."
"Which is why they hate it," she laughed out loud, and then walked over and plopped back into her chair."It's the nobility, the rich fucks, Jurak. They don't want the country to be prosperous, or the people to be happy, because then they aren't in control. They would have been against treaties with the Lockhedes from day one. It would have been easy for them to sway King Panty-waist to their side, because he's one of them." She looked back at her monitor."So, how deeply and completely are they entrenched?"
"I . . . don't know?"
Drew sighed."Jurak, don't take this the wrong way. You're a nice guy and all, but damn you're lame."
"I'm sorry, my Queen."
"Crap, not even going to argue with me," Drew muttered under her breath. She sighed again."Forget about it and get me a beer."
"Yes, my Queen." He went over to the cooler, dug a beer out of the ice, opened
Van Gar started yelling, and didn't appear to have any stopping point. His Chitzsky brothers and sisters all around him thought he was in a home planet-type rapture, and they all started to sing a hymn as Van Gar wished for death.
Drewcila sat at her place on the bridge, at least for the time being everything but business forgotten. They were on their way to Barious as fast as the ship and the hyperspace by-way would allow them to go.
She looked at the figures that poured onto her screen on the left, even as she watched news reports from Barious on the right. Neither made her very happy. Her stock was plummeting all over the galaxy, and the reason for it was clear from the newscasts. Zarco had closed down all recycling operations on the planet and put everyone to work, either drafting them to military duty or rebuilding the military equipment he needed for the war he wanted to wage.
She was shifting shipments of salvage that were supposed to be landing on Barious to be reworked for resale to three of her smaller operations on other worlds and satellite installations, but they couldn't keep up. Key shipments were being delayed, production couldn't maintain their quotas at this rate, and salvage was stacking up everywhere. It was an incredible mess.
Suddenly the screen showing the newscast went blank. For the next several minutes she tried without any luck to reach Barious. Either the entire planet had just blown up, or more likely someone had detonated a communications disruptor. Technology had advanced to the point that such weapons didn't do permanent damage, however it could be hours—maybe even days—before they could repair the damage done by such an attack. Her stocks plummeted still more sharply.
"Heads will roll," Drewcila mumbled.
"What's that, my Queen?" Jurak asked.
"Detonating such a device at a time of war hardly gives anyone the upper hand. You wipe out communications on the entire surface of the planet, and that more or less puts everyone in the dark. So you have to ask, 'who would gain anything from this?' Zarco, of course. Zarco is purposely keeping me in the dark. This could mean only one thing, that he is up to something—something he knows I won't like. The question is what? He doesn't have sense enough to pour piss out of a boot without directions on the side, and his only real motivation, ever, seems to be his winky. So someone else must be pulling the strings—but who?"
She got up and started pacing back and forth, tapping her chin with her forefinger."Who would benefit by the country going to war?"
Jurak thought for a moment."No one, my Queen."
"Precisely . . . So the war isn't the main objective. Closing down the salvaging operation is, and who wants the salvaging operation closed down?"
"No one, my Queen. Salvaging has made the country prosperous."
"Which is why they hate it," she laughed out loud, and then walked over and plopped back into her chair."It's the nobility, the rich fucks, Jurak. They don't want the country to be prosperous, or the people to be happy, because then they aren't in control. They would have been against treaties with the Lockhedes from day one. It would have been easy for them to sway King Panty-waist to their side, because he's one of them." She looked back at her monitor."So, how deeply and completely are they entrenched?"
"I . . . don't know?"
Drew sighed."Jurak, don't take this the wrong way. You're a nice guy and all, but damn you're lame."
"I'm sorry, my Queen."
"Crap, not even going to argue with me," Drew muttered under her breath. She sighed again."Forget about it and get me a beer."
"Yes, my Queen." He went over to the cooler, dug a beer out of the ice, opened
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