Chapter Four
Total consternation reigned in the palace of the Hwangawine District of planet Ypiupi. It was an immeasurable improvement over the previous reign, but all present were still eager to get things sorted out.
“Bright idea of mine,” said a smug-looking Duke, “making her suffer total existence failure. Buggers me why you all laughed when I suggested it.” It was apparent, however, that the Queen’s disappearance was as much a surprise to him as everyone else.
Eventually they figured that it didn’t matter why she had gone, only that she was gone, Hallelujah; and matters turned to what they would do in her absence. All eyes, naturally, turned with them to Princess Jamillika.
“I’m flattered,” she said, “but I must protest –”
A belch came from somewhere below, and seemed to rumble through the entire palace’s superstructure.
“Whoops! Excuse me a moment,” she said, and disappeared back down the secret passage, which was suddenly no longer very secret. In a couple of minutes the others saw her enter the dungeon and approach Kahlo’s prone form.
She leaned over him and gazed into his eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked gently.
He winced. “I’m in a dungeon missing a limb and about to lose the others, but yeah, pretty much, now that you’re here.” He forced a grin.
“Here,” she said, “Let me help you.” She forced her arms in under his body and tried to lift him up. Bobocitos licked its chops, but kept a respectful distance from the woman who looked like its Queen.
“No, please…” he groaned in pain as she jostled him. “This is humiliating. Just let me die. I’ll be a martyr.”
“Come on, you know you don’t really want that…”
Suddenly Bobocitos sniffed the air and seemed to realize something was up. The woman did indeed look like the Queen, but to its sensitive nose she smelled quite different. And that was what really mattered, after all. It growled menacingly at them.
“You know what, you’re right,” said Kahlo. “Let’s go.”
She finally managed to lift him, and gazed into his eyes again, this time more thoughtfully. He gazed back. Her silky black pupils were dilating within gorgeous irises of violet. They seemed to carry every emotion he had not been allowed to feel over the last ten years, emotions of joy, peace, security… and love.
Their lips parted simultaneously.
“Kiss her!” yelled Berrik from above, less than helpfully, and the others nearly pushed him in.
But just then Bobocitos attacked, scooting towards them on its wicked bloodstained scythes, mouth reared open. It was aiming primarily for Jamillika, whose pampered palace flesh would provide a luxurious change indeed. She darted, stumbling with Kahlo’s weight, inches ahead of drool and rancid breath, right back out the secret door, and managed to kick it shut just in time. She realized the creature had taken the bow from the back of her dress but, unlike her sister who would have flipped, didn’t particularly care.
The moment was quite thoroughly ruined, so they headed straight back up the secret passageway. Not love, Kahlo berated himself, just the infatuation one would naturally feel about being saved from certain death.
Back in the throne room, she gently set him down on the throne itself, ordered a medical robot to fit him with a prosthetic leg, and returned to the other item at hand.
“Er, sorry, where were we?” she said sheepishly.
“I was about to receive commendation for my idea of making the Queen undergo total existence failure,” explained the Duke.
“We were going to make you our new ruler,” corrected Gavolt, pouting only slightly.
“Ah yes,” she said. “Now I remember.” She cleared her throat. “I’m flattered, but I must protest this. I’m afraid I don’t think I’m qualified for the job.”
“You can’t do any worse than her!” someone shouted, and no one could deny this point.
This brought them to the subject of what they should do with the much-despised former monarch’s thirty-foot tall statues. The general consensus was that they should be blown up or pulled down, until somebody realized that the prison camps were in the same vicinity and would be destroyed in either process, and although they weren’t much in the way of houses they were so far the only thing available and it would be best to postpone that train of thought.
Then an even cleverer person pointed out that, since Australia and Jamillika were nearly identical, the statues could be kept and merely thought to represent the new monarch who deserved them.
“But I would never dress like that,” said Jamillika, hoping to derail the whole shebang and dissuade them from making her Queen in the first place.
“We’ll worry about this later,” decided Gavolt, “the important thing is to set our new Queen apart in the first place, before the citizens foolishly decide to revolt.”
Jamillika had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized this wasn’t going to work after all. “How’s the leg?” she asked Kahlo, who had just had the procedure finished and been given a sticker for good behavior from the robot.
“Well…” he tried it out, rotating it in several directions, half of which had been physically impossible with his original leg. He then wiggled all the toes; which as an afterthought struck him as rather unnecessary little doohickeys and a waste of time to put on a prosthetic, but had the psychological benefit of being like old friends. “Great!” was his verdict.
Their eyes met again, and they shared a thought, that perhaps they should give the kissing thing another go. Their lips parted again, and they slowly moved closer.
There was a slight beeping noise behind them. “Incoming transmission,” said a servant, and a moment later, “Aw, fiddlesticks…”
Jamillika spun around, catching Kahlo a nasty blow on the nose as she did so, terrified at the thought of what could have possibly prompted such strong language from one of their mature, professional servants. When she saw what it was, a lump caught in her throat and was the only thing preventing her from using the word herself.
On the communications screen loomed an unspeakably disgusting, vile creature, blown up to several times actual size and looming over the proceedings.
No one had expected to see her again, but the real shock was the even more disgusting, vile and furthermore atheistic creature which held her firmly in its claws.
For a moment, no one spoke.
For a further moment, no one continued to speak.
Finally Jamillika managed to say, “What do you want?”
The Skreel, as if waiting politely for such a cue, bowed slightly, though the inherent mockery was unmistakable. It spoke in a docile upper-class British accent, which, although the Ypiupians had never heard of the British and certainly had no idea about their class structure, seemed more suitable for proposing a nice, hot cup of tea than, say, threatening a roomful of people it would have dearly loved to destroy, which is what it was now doing.
It said, “Your cooperation.”
After a suitable pause to let this revelation sink in, it went on. “The Hwangawine District has considerable ties with the others on planet Ypiupi. It would not be difficult for you to render them completely helpless in the face of our opposition.” It leaned closer to the screen. “Tell us everything you know about their military strategy etcetera, feed them lies and keep them vulnerable, stuff like that, and your entire kingdom will be spared. Most notably, of course, your precious Queen.”
It leaned back and shoved Australia’s face into the screen. “Hi, guys,” she said.
Gavolt wasn’t sure what to make of this; it seemed too perfect to be true. “She’s not the Queen any longer;” he explained, “we have a new one.” He waved at Jamillika. The Skreel turned its cold, heartless beady eyes on her.
“What!?” Her lack of enthusiasm about taking her sister’s place had suddenly increased somewhat. She adopted her apologetic smile, the most commonly used one in her repertoire by far, and tried to stand firm under the creature’s unblinking gaze.
“You tell ‘em, Jamie,” said Gavolt, slapping her on the back. She had a feeling someone was enjoying this situation far too much, and she knew for certain it wasn’t her.
“Well, we haven’t actually had the coronation ceremony, as such… per se… so to speak…” she faltered for a moment. Standing firm did not seem to be working out, at least in the metaphorical sense.
“These are desperate times,” countered Gavolt, “what with the apparently imminent invasion of our planet and all. The ceremony can be waived for a while.”
She couldn’t think of an argument for that, and if she could she knew it would be countered again. Gavolt knew the law inside, outside and upside down, particularly the loopholes and gaping flaws not the least of which had allowed Australia to be such a creep to the peasants, dress like a slut and so on. She wondered for a moment if he was trying to get her kidnapped as well, and quietly edged away from her current position where she was sure she felt a teleporter getting a target lock.
“You are the Queen, then?” the Skreel demanded.
“Y-y-yes,” she said, not daring to lie. She edged away from her new position and started doing a little dance to and fro for good measure.
“You don’t care about this, then,” it continued, nodding to Australia whom it was still holding in, shockingly enough, complete silence.
It hadn’t been phrased as a question and it was no contest to find the answer. Gavolt still wasn’t sure what to make of this, and it still seemed to perfect to be true, but he decided to play along for the sake of whether it turned out to be. “Not a sausage,” he said. He realized then that perhaps he had been overstepping his authority a bit this whole time, but what the heck, he was speaking in the people’s best interest and the Queen hadn’t had her coronation ceremony anyway.
Jamillika was frantically running the perimeter of the throne room by this point, even as she suddenly realized that for some reason the Skreel had no interest in her. At about that same moment she also realized that last she knew even they couldn’t just teleport someone off the face of a planet, so what had happened?
The reason, by the way, for Australia’s continued silence was that she simply couldn’t think of a thing to say because she hadn’t the faintest notion what was going on. This was unprecedented in all her thirteen years of ruling, and even if she had known a Skreel from her own belly button she wouldn’t have conceived what it could possibly want with her, except insofar as any half-sapient being would of course be crazy about her because she was the sexiest thing on two feet, was she not?
The Skreel suddenly increased pressure on her neck. She wasn’t the brightest star in the proverbial cluster, as if that needed telling by this point, but she was beginning to realize that whatever was going on was not fun, and that the person for whom it was going to be the most not fun was going to be her. This did not fit into her natural order of things, and she could not immediately think of how to cope. Panic began to creep into her eyes.
The court, however, began to laugh in relief, hesitantly at first, than loud and boomingly. It took a good five minutes for things to settle down, during which Australia, who didn’t get the joke, began to sweat a little; and the Skreel, who didn’t seem to care, waited patiently for them to settle down.
“Kill her, please,” said Gavolt finally, wiping away tears of mirth, “you’ll be doing us a favor.”
This definitely did not fit into her natural order of things, but it was simple enough for even her to plainly comprehend. She was aware, of course, of not being the most popular monarch ever, but still, it came as a complete shock that they would really want to get rid of such a wonderful sexy person as her. Australia let out a primal screech of pure terror, and even the Skreel seemed to flinch a little.
“What!?” she shrieked. “Come on, guys! Do as he says! Get me out of here!”
Gavolt gave her the same gesture Kahlo had done earlier, amid thunderous applause.
In desperation, she turned her panic-stricken eyes to her sister, but Jamillika could not meet her gaze. She figured correctly that Kahlo wasn’t even worth a try, wondering as she did how he had escaped anyway; and Bobocitos, though certainly willing, could not reach the viewscreen from where he stood.
“Very well, then,” said the Skreel, making no attempt to argue. “Since it gives you such pleasure, you may watch her die.”
This was not a creature that made hollow threats. The image zoomed out as he roughly forced her into the metal chair which was suddenly visible. It resembled an electric chair of ancient times and far-off places, but differed in that it had no headpiece and its sole purpose was to keep the prisoner restrained while her captors did unspeakably worse things to her.
“We had this new throne custom-made for you,” the creature explained. “It fits your dimensions perfectly. Nothing but the best for our honored guests.”
It was true. As she slipped in it fit like a glove, or rather more like a pair of pants although as she had no experience with those the analogy would have been lost, but then she was stuck tight. The creature didn’t have to even bother strapping her in.
“Wait,” she said, and it seemed to oblige for a moment, which she used to think of a reason why it should wait. She had never paid attention to official matters and couldn’t deliver the information it wanted, and it seemed to be aware of that because it hadn’t asked. There were only a few things on her mind all the time, and it wasn’t hard to pick one which was usually at the forefront, hoping it would suffice. “You can’t possibly kill someone as totally sexy, gorgeous and drool-inducing as me;” she insisted finally, “it would be a heinous crime against the forces of nature.”
The Skreel patiently explained what she and the forces of nature could go do to each other. The court scribe, who up until now had impartially recorded all of the proceedings including the earlier “Fiddlesticks” comment, raised his eyebrows, contemplated for a minute, and opted for the sake of decency to strike it from the record.
Australia merely gaped in shock.
“Is that possible?” she said at last.
“Nothing’s impossible with us,” the Skreel said proudly. “We will gladly continue our demonstration of that fact, if you don’t mind.”
Australia minded quite a bit, but she realized with a gut-wrenching certainty to which, aside from contemplating her sexiness, her mentality was completely unaccustomed, that this was it, her life was over, and there wasn’t a blasted thing she could do about it. She remained silent.
Another Skreel hustled up, and produced a tiny metal straw to the original who, as the court watched, stuck it directly into the top of Australia’s head. It stung terribly, as it would have even were she accustomed to pain beyond the occasional spot of indigestion. She winced and clenched her teeth on her lip, trying to ignore the sickening crunch she had heard or the sticky wetness that was beginning to permeate her hair. Show no fear, she decided, show no pain. That would be decidedly unsexy for her last moments.
Things were getting bad, and even her detractors realized something had to be done. “Quickly, get some snacks,” a Duchess ordered a robot.
No one quite knew what they expected to happen at this point, but they were all looking forward to it immensely. All, that is, except for Jamillika, who could not stand unpleasant things and still felt the pain of familial bonds. She turned away completely, crying, and with sudden audacity Kahlo put his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest and let the tears run freely.
The Skreel watched her suffering with a certain amount of satisfaction, and then turned back to the task at hand. There was much more to come.
It lowered its mouth, if it could be called that, to the straw’s other end and began calmly to suck.
Australia’s eyes widened to the size of small planetoids. Her brain was not much to speak of, but having it sucked out through a straw was nonetheless a decidedly unpleasant experience. She searched what was left of it for a suitable reaction, but could find nothing in its rapidly dwindling recesses. She opted to simply be paralyzed, though whether she had a choice is questionable.
The Skreel paused, letting a little backwash into her head. “I do love brain food,” it said. It didn’t understand the pun itself, but its research had led it to believe that this audience would find it incredibly disturbing. It patted the place where its stomach would have been were it a humanoid, a gesture specifically designed, again, to be incredibly disturbing, and continued.
A hidden microphone in the straw broadcast the sucking noise loud and clear over all else, and those watching began to feel ill. Even she didn’t deserve this, they began to think. Well, okay, she did, but they weren’t feeling particularly inclined to watch any more. The duchess waved the robot to take the snacks away and bring her a bucket instead. Gavolt accidentally bumped the viewer controls and shut it off. No one made a move to correct this mistake.
Jamillika seemed to wake up. Embarrassed, she gently pushed Kahlo away, turned to face the crowd, and unruffled her dress. “Now that we’re alert, they’re going to step up the invasion,” she said. “We must contact all the other districts and send out a distress signal.”
“Can’t,” said Gavolt, “we’re already being jammed.”
Seeing a way to kill two proverbial birds with one stone, she said, “My kingdom to whoever can get a message through.”
“Oh come now, Highness,” he chided gently, “that won’t be necessary. We serve you out of true loyalty.” With that said everyone huddled around the communications screen and tried to fiddle with it at once.
The new Queen sighed and turned to Kahlo. “I seem to be having considerable trouble with my lifestyle,” she said.
“I think you’d be a great Queen,” he insisted, “if you’d just accept it and get on with things.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” she admitted grudgingly, and then her face hardened and her last vestiges of reluctance were momentarily swept away. “Corporal Hijra, go find Bardo and send out all available fighters to meet the attack!” she commanded. “We’ll prepare an evacuation!”
There were cheers of approval as people rushed to carry this out. Ypiupi wasn’t like Gragalla for the most part, in that it helped other planets out like a good neighbor, but due to the Hwangawine District’s former incompetent and unlamented leadership, it had taken a slightly different stance thus far and as a result had rather more fighters left than the average. They would not, of course, stand a whelk’s chance in a supernova by themselves, but very determined whelks have been known to do great things. Even on Ypiupi, where no one had heard of whelks, people seemed to understand this.
“If there are any fighters left over, I’ll take one,” Kahlo offered.
Jamillika smiled at him, but her heart wasn’t in it. “That’s sweet,” she said, “but I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“No sacrifice is too great for my district, my planet… and my Queen.” He looked at her meaningfully, but she was distracted and didn’t catch it.
“You’ve suffered such atrocities at the hand of your previous Queen; I’ve no right to ask you for such favors.”
“You’re not asking,” Kahlo insisted. “I’m volunteering.”
She considered this. “Thank you,” she said at last, “but we’ve more than enough able pilots and you can’t even fly, can you? Don’t worry, you can be of more service here with me. We’ll have to prepare for a ground assault.” She realized she had left this out of the plan so far. “Prepare for ground assault!” she called out for the benefit of anyone who wasn’t busy fiddling with the communications screen, getting to a fighter or preparing the evacuation.
“We’re going to stay?” he blanched.
She sighed. “There aren’t nearly enough ships for us and your people, you know that,” she said. “And, besides, we can’t abandon the homeworld completely. Someone will have to stay.”
“You can’t stay, you’re the Queen,” he said incredulously.
“A Queen’s place is with her planet,” she said sadly. “I’m determined to be a good Queen, if I have to be one at all which unfortunately seems to be the case.”
“I couldn’t help but overhearing,” said Gavolt, turning away from the screen, “and I’m afraid I for one can’t stand for that. We have to get you offplanet, fast. You know why you have to go in person to –”
“I’m the Queen; don’t argue with me. I’m staying.”
“In that case, it may finally be time for my revolution,” Kahlo said, and those around him cheered. This surprised him until they turned out to be cheering because they had miraculously discovered a frequency which was not completely blocked. Things were looking up.
“Quickly,” he said, assuming a leadership position even though none of his new subjects knew what was going on, “send a distress signal to anyone within range. And kidnap her, will you? She has to get out of here safely. You know what, never mind,” he quickly added.
Her eyes brightened. “You’re reconsidering this madness?” she asked hopefully.
“No,” he said, “I’m taking you myself. I got nothing to lose.” A hint of a smile played across his lips. “Don’t get feisty. We revolutionaries tend to have itchy trigger fingers.”
“I told you I wouldn’t make a good Queen;” she said to no one in particular, “this has to be the shortest reign of any monarch in history.”
***
Outside, in the royal hangar, pilots rushed to their ships for the first time in over a decade. There were distressingly few of them, they realized. Perhaps the whelk analogy was a bit generous. Still, they had their orders, and it was the only course of action they could really take anyway, so one by one they jumped in and started the engines.
“Right, now, listen up,” said Sergeant Bardo Pikkes, leader of the squadron, somehow managing to make himself heard above the deafening roar in the enclosed hangar without the benefit of a megaphone. This was it! He was back in action! He quickly adapted the redneck drawl that had been his trademark as a pilot. “When we get up there, there’s gonna be no communications, so y’all are on your own,” he continued.
“I’ve been proud to know ya, boys, so I’m sorry it has to end this way but I’m sure y’all know without support it’ll be a suicide mission. We’ve been through a lot together, and I don’t have time to go over it here, but it would mean a lot if y’each could play a sort of montage in yer heads as yer flyin’ to certain doom. I’ll leave ya with a last word of advice before we shove off.” Tears glistened in his stern eyes despite his attempts to force them back. “Watch each other’s tails, and show those garmy cretins who they’re dealing with. When it’s over, it’s over, but hey, we can keep goin’ for a while.”
As he jumped into his own fighter, the engines were again drowned out, this time by thunderous applause.
***
“The next order of business, I think,” said Kahlo, the new King for the time being, “is getting Bobocitos to a zoo somewhere.”
“Not it,” chorused the court.
Jamillika looked at him appreciatively. It was remarkable that he could look beyond his own problems to those of a lesser creature that wanted no truck with any of this madness and take pity, particularly when said creature had tried to kill him slowly and painfully. It was safer where it was, though, underground in a cell of solid rock; than a natural zoo habitat, at least when the Skreel reached the planet. She mentioned this to him.
“All right then, never mind,” he said. “That’s it then. Let’s go.”
“Fiddlesticks,” she muttered.
***
Bardo Pikkes looked out over the vacuum of space. It never failed, even after all these years, to instill a sense of awe and wonder in him. No matter how hardened his heart grew from the horrors of battle, it was always moved by the sight of so many pinpoints of light, twinkling away silently in the inky blackness.
What distressed him now, however, was the lack of anything else. He didn’t want to face Skreel ships, of course, but since they were invading the fact that he couldn’t see them spelled trouble. They must have been nearby, after all, to have teleported Australia like that. He looked in every direction from the planet when he got far enough, and still nothing. His sensors, of course, were being jammed as well as communications.
Well, he thought, this sucks.
There were a few possibilities; namely a. that the Skreel had lied about invading them for some reason, which would be good, although whatever they were doing instead certainly wouldn’t; b. that they had gone into hyperspace and were waiting for an ambush, perhaps when his fighters got farther from the planet, which would be bad; and c. that they had developed some sort of cloaking device technology, which would be very, extremely dreadful.
A sudden flash of laserfire came from his port side. He jerked his head to look and gasped at how close by the Skreel fighters had materialized. No one knew if they were capable of tracking other ships through hyperspace, so either they had planned it to be intimidating, or it was one heck of a close shave and probably scared them out of their skins as well.
At least it hadn’t been c. Here we go, he thought. Time to get this party started.
Next: Chapter Five
“Bright idea of mine,” said a smug-looking Duke, “making her suffer total existence failure. Buggers me why you all laughed when I suggested it.” It was apparent, however, that the Queen’s disappearance was as much a surprise to him as everyone else.
Eventually they figured that it didn’t matter why she had gone, only that she was gone, Hallelujah; and matters turned to what they would do in her absence. All eyes, naturally, turned with them to Princess Jamillika.
“I’m flattered,” she said, “but I must protest –”
A belch came from somewhere below, and seemed to rumble through the entire palace’s superstructure.
“Whoops! Excuse me a moment,” she said, and disappeared back down the secret passage, which was suddenly no longer very secret. In a couple of minutes the others saw her enter the dungeon and approach Kahlo’s prone form.
She leaned over him and gazed into his eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked gently.
He winced. “I’m in a dungeon missing a limb and about to lose the others, but yeah, pretty much, now that you’re here.” He forced a grin.
“Here,” she said, “Let me help you.” She forced her arms in under his body and tried to lift him up. Bobocitos licked its chops, but kept a respectful distance from the woman who looked like its Queen.
“No, please…” he groaned in pain as she jostled him. “This is humiliating. Just let me die. I’ll be a martyr.”
“Come on, you know you don’t really want that…”
Suddenly Bobocitos sniffed the air and seemed to realize something was up. The woman did indeed look like the Queen, but to its sensitive nose she smelled quite different. And that was what really mattered, after all. It growled menacingly at them.
“You know what, you’re right,” said Kahlo. “Let’s go.”
She finally managed to lift him, and gazed into his eyes again, this time more thoughtfully. He gazed back. Her silky black pupils were dilating within gorgeous irises of violet. They seemed to carry every emotion he had not been allowed to feel over the last ten years, emotions of joy, peace, security… and love.
Their lips parted simultaneously.
“Kiss her!” yelled Berrik from above, less than helpfully, and the others nearly pushed him in.
But just then Bobocitos attacked, scooting towards them on its wicked bloodstained scythes, mouth reared open. It was aiming primarily for Jamillika, whose pampered palace flesh would provide a luxurious change indeed. She darted, stumbling with Kahlo’s weight, inches ahead of drool and rancid breath, right back out the secret door, and managed to kick it shut just in time. She realized the creature had taken the bow from the back of her dress but, unlike her sister who would have flipped, didn’t particularly care.
The moment was quite thoroughly ruined, so they headed straight back up the secret passageway. Not love, Kahlo berated himself, just the infatuation one would naturally feel about being saved from certain death.
Back in the throne room, she gently set him down on the throne itself, ordered a medical robot to fit him with a prosthetic leg, and returned to the other item at hand.
“Er, sorry, where were we?” she said sheepishly.
“I was about to receive commendation for my idea of making the Queen undergo total existence failure,” explained the Duke.
“We were going to make you our new ruler,” corrected Gavolt, pouting only slightly.
“Ah yes,” she said. “Now I remember.” She cleared her throat. “I’m flattered, but I must protest this. I’m afraid I don’t think I’m qualified for the job.”
“You can’t do any worse than her!” someone shouted, and no one could deny this point.
This brought them to the subject of what they should do with the much-despised former monarch’s thirty-foot tall statues. The general consensus was that they should be blown up or pulled down, until somebody realized that the prison camps were in the same vicinity and would be destroyed in either process, and although they weren’t much in the way of houses they were so far the only thing available and it would be best to postpone that train of thought.
Then an even cleverer person pointed out that, since Australia and Jamillika were nearly identical, the statues could be kept and merely thought to represent the new monarch who deserved them.
“But I would never dress like that,” said Jamillika, hoping to derail the whole shebang and dissuade them from making her Queen in the first place.
“We’ll worry about this later,” decided Gavolt, “the important thing is to set our new Queen apart in the first place, before the citizens foolishly decide to revolt.”
Jamillika had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized this wasn’t going to work after all. “How’s the leg?” she asked Kahlo, who had just had the procedure finished and been given a sticker for good behavior from the robot.
“Well…” he tried it out, rotating it in several directions, half of which had been physically impossible with his original leg. He then wiggled all the toes; which as an afterthought struck him as rather unnecessary little doohickeys and a waste of time to put on a prosthetic, but had the psychological benefit of being like old friends. “Great!” was his verdict.
Their eyes met again, and they shared a thought, that perhaps they should give the kissing thing another go. Their lips parted again, and they slowly moved closer.
There was a slight beeping noise behind them. “Incoming transmission,” said a servant, and a moment later, “Aw, fiddlesticks…”
Jamillika spun around, catching Kahlo a nasty blow on the nose as she did so, terrified at the thought of what could have possibly prompted such strong language from one of their mature, professional servants. When she saw what it was, a lump caught in her throat and was the only thing preventing her from using the word herself.
On the communications screen loomed an unspeakably disgusting, vile creature, blown up to several times actual size and looming over the proceedings.
No one had expected to see her again, but the real shock was the even more disgusting, vile and furthermore atheistic creature which held her firmly in its claws.
For a moment, no one spoke.
For a further moment, no one continued to speak.
Finally Jamillika managed to say, “What do you want?”
The Skreel, as if waiting politely for such a cue, bowed slightly, though the inherent mockery was unmistakable. It spoke in a docile upper-class British accent, which, although the Ypiupians had never heard of the British and certainly had no idea about their class structure, seemed more suitable for proposing a nice, hot cup of tea than, say, threatening a roomful of people it would have dearly loved to destroy, which is what it was now doing.
It said, “Your cooperation.”
After a suitable pause to let this revelation sink in, it went on. “The Hwangawine District has considerable ties with the others on planet Ypiupi. It would not be difficult for you to render them completely helpless in the face of our opposition.” It leaned closer to the screen. “Tell us everything you know about their military strategy etcetera, feed them lies and keep them vulnerable, stuff like that, and your entire kingdom will be spared. Most notably, of course, your precious Queen.”
It leaned back and shoved Australia’s face into the screen. “Hi, guys,” she said.
Gavolt wasn’t sure what to make of this; it seemed too perfect to be true. “She’s not the Queen any longer;” he explained, “we have a new one.” He waved at Jamillika. The Skreel turned its cold, heartless beady eyes on her.
“What!?” Her lack of enthusiasm about taking her sister’s place had suddenly increased somewhat. She adopted her apologetic smile, the most commonly used one in her repertoire by far, and tried to stand firm under the creature’s unblinking gaze.
“You tell ‘em, Jamie,” said Gavolt, slapping her on the back. She had a feeling someone was enjoying this situation far too much, and she knew for certain it wasn’t her.
“Well, we haven’t actually had the coronation ceremony, as such… per se… so to speak…” she faltered for a moment. Standing firm did not seem to be working out, at least in the metaphorical sense.
“These are desperate times,” countered Gavolt, “what with the apparently imminent invasion of our planet and all. The ceremony can be waived for a while.”
She couldn’t think of an argument for that, and if she could she knew it would be countered again. Gavolt knew the law inside, outside and upside down, particularly the loopholes and gaping flaws not the least of which had allowed Australia to be such a creep to the peasants, dress like a slut and so on. She wondered for a moment if he was trying to get her kidnapped as well, and quietly edged away from her current position where she was sure she felt a teleporter getting a target lock.
“You are the Queen, then?” the Skreel demanded.
“Y-y-yes,” she said, not daring to lie. She edged away from her new position and started doing a little dance to and fro for good measure.
“You don’t care about this, then,” it continued, nodding to Australia whom it was still holding in, shockingly enough, complete silence.
It hadn’t been phrased as a question and it was no contest to find the answer. Gavolt still wasn’t sure what to make of this, and it still seemed to perfect to be true, but he decided to play along for the sake of whether it turned out to be. “Not a sausage,” he said. He realized then that perhaps he had been overstepping his authority a bit this whole time, but what the heck, he was speaking in the people’s best interest and the Queen hadn’t had her coronation ceremony anyway.
Jamillika was frantically running the perimeter of the throne room by this point, even as she suddenly realized that for some reason the Skreel had no interest in her. At about that same moment she also realized that last she knew even they couldn’t just teleport someone off the face of a planet, so what had happened?
The reason, by the way, for Australia’s continued silence was that she simply couldn’t think of a thing to say because she hadn’t the faintest notion what was going on. This was unprecedented in all her thirteen years of ruling, and even if she had known a Skreel from her own belly button she wouldn’t have conceived what it could possibly want with her, except insofar as any half-sapient being would of course be crazy about her because she was the sexiest thing on two feet, was she not?
The Skreel suddenly increased pressure on her neck. She wasn’t the brightest star in the proverbial cluster, as if that needed telling by this point, but she was beginning to realize that whatever was going on was not fun, and that the person for whom it was going to be the most not fun was going to be her. This did not fit into her natural order of things, and she could not immediately think of how to cope. Panic began to creep into her eyes.
The court, however, began to laugh in relief, hesitantly at first, than loud and boomingly. It took a good five minutes for things to settle down, during which Australia, who didn’t get the joke, began to sweat a little; and the Skreel, who didn’t seem to care, waited patiently for them to settle down.
“Kill her, please,” said Gavolt finally, wiping away tears of mirth, “you’ll be doing us a favor.”
This definitely did not fit into her natural order of things, but it was simple enough for even her to plainly comprehend. She was aware, of course, of not being the most popular monarch ever, but still, it came as a complete shock that they would really want to get rid of such a wonderful sexy person as her. Australia let out a primal screech of pure terror, and even the Skreel seemed to flinch a little.
“What!?” she shrieked. “Come on, guys! Do as he says! Get me out of here!”
Gavolt gave her the same gesture Kahlo had done earlier, amid thunderous applause.
In desperation, she turned her panic-stricken eyes to her sister, but Jamillika could not meet her gaze. She figured correctly that Kahlo wasn’t even worth a try, wondering as she did how he had escaped anyway; and Bobocitos, though certainly willing, could not reach the viewscreen from where he stood.
“Very well, then,” said the Skreel, making no attempt to argue. “Since it gives you such pleasure, you may watch her die.”
This was not a creature that made hollow threats. The image zoomed out as he roughly forced her into the metal chair which was suddenly visible. It resembled an electric chair of ancient times and far-off places, but differed in that it had no headpiece and its sole purpose was to keep the prisoner restrained while her captors did unspeakably worse things to her.
“We had this new throne custom-made for you,” the creature explained. “It fits your dimensions perfectly. Nothing but the best for our honored guests.”
It was true. As she slipped in it fit like a glove, or rather more like a pair of pants although as she had no experience with those the analogy would have been lost, but then she was stuck tight. The creature didn’t have to even bother strapping her in.
“Wait,” she said, and it seemed to oblige for a moment, which she used to think of a reason why it should wait. She had never paid attention to official matters and couldn’t deliver the information it wanted, and it seemed to be aware of that because it hadn’t asked. There were only a few things on her mind all the time, and it wasn’t hard to pick one which was usually at the forefront, hoping it would suffice. “You can’t possibly kill someone as totally sexy, gorgeous and drool-inducing as me;” she insisted finally, “it would be a heinous crime against the forces of nature.”
The Skreel patiently explained what she and the forces of nature could go do to each other. The court scribe, who up until now had impartially recorded all of the proceedings including the earlier “Fiddlesticks” comment, raised his eyebrows, contemplated for a minute, and opted for the sake of decency to strike it from the record.
Australia merely gaped in shock.
“Is that possible?” she said at last.
“Nothing’s impossible with us,” the Skreel said proudly. “We will gladly continue our demonstration of that fact, if you don’t mind.”
Australia minded quite a bit, but she realized with a gut-wrenching certainty to which, aside from contemplating her sexiness, her mentality was completely unaccustomed, that this was it, her life was over, and there wasn’t a blasted thing she could do about it. She remained silent.
Another Skreel hustled up, and produced a tiny metal straw to the original who, as the court watched, stuck it directly into the top of Australia’s head. It stung terribly, as it would have even were she accustomed to pain beyond the occasional spot of indigestion. She winced and clenched her teeth on her lip, trying to ignore the sickening crunch she had heard or the sticky wetness that was beginning to permeate her hair. Show no fear, she decided, show no pain. That would be decidedly unsexy for her last moments.
Things were getting bad, and even her detractors realized something had to be done. “Quickly, get some snacks,” a Duchess ordered a robot.
No one quite knew what they expected to happen at this point, but they were all looking forward to it immensely. All, that is, except for Jamillika, who could not stand unpleasant things and still felt the pain of familial bonds. She turned away completely, crying, and with sudden audacity Kahlo put his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest and let the tears run freely.
The Skreel watched her suffering with a certain amount of satisfaction, and then turned back to the task at hand. There was much more to come.
It lowered its mouth, if it could be called that, to the straw’s other end and began calmly to suck.
Australia’s eyes widened to the size of small planetoids. Her brain was not much to speak of, but having it sucked out through a straw was nonetheless a decidedly unpleasant experience. She searched what was left of it for a suitable reaction, but could find nothing in its rapidly dwindling recesses. She opted to simply be paralyzed, though whether she had a choice is questionable.
The Skreel paused, letting a little backwash into her head. “I do love brain food,” it said. It didn’t understand the pun itself, but its research had led it to believe that this audience would find it incredibly disturbing. It patted the place where its stomach would have been were it a humanoid, a gesture specifically designed, again, to be incredibly disturbing, and continued.
A hidden microphone in the straw broadcast the sucking noise loud and clear over all else, and those watching began to feel ill. Even she didn’t deserve this, they began to think. Well, okay, she did, but they weren’t feeling particularly inclined to watch any more. The duchess waved the robot to take the snacks away and bring her a bucket instead. Gavolt accidentally bumped the viewer controls and shut it off. No one made a move to correct this mistake.
Jamillika seemed to wake up. Embarrassed, she gently pushed Kahlo away, turned to face the crowd, and unruffled her dress. “Now that we’re alert, they’re going to step up the invasion,” she said. “We must contact all the other districts and send out a distress signal.”
“Can’t,” said Gavolt, “we’re already being jammed.”
Seeing a way to kill two proverbial birds with one stone, she said, “My kingdom to whoever can get a message through.”
“Oh come now, Highness,” he chided gently, “that won’t be necessary. We serve you out of true loyalty.” With that said everyone huddled around the communications screen and tried to fiddle with it at once.
The new Queen sighed and turned to Kahlo. “I seem to be having considerable trouble with my lifestyle,” she said.
“I think you’d be a great Queen,” he insisted, “if you’d just accept it and get on with things.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” she admitted grudgingly, and then her face hardened and her last vestiges of reluctance were momentarily swept away. “Corporal Hijra, go find Bardo and send out all available fighters to meet the attack!” she commanded. “We’ll prepare an evacuation!”
There were cheers of approval as people rushed to carry this out. Ypiupi wasn’t like Gragalla for the most part, in that it helped other planets out like a good neighbor, but due to the Hwangawine District’s former incompetent and unlamented leadership, it had taken a slightly different stance thus far and as a result had rather more fighters left than the average. They would not, of course, stand a whelk’s chance in a supernova by themselves, but very determined whelks have been known to do great things. Even on Ypiupi, where no one had heard of whelks, people seemed to understand this.
“If there are any fighters left over, I’ll take one,” Kahlo offered.
Jamillika smiled at him, but her heart wasn’t in it. “That’s sweet,” she said, “but I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“No sacrifice is too great for my district, my planet… and my Queen.” He looked at her meaningfully, but she was distracted and didn’t catch it.
“You’ve suffered such atrocities at the hand of your previous Queen; I’ve no right to ask you for such favors.”
“You’re not asking,” Kahlo insisted. “I’m volunteering.”
She considered this. “Thank you,” she said at last, “but we’ve more than enough able pilots and you can’t even fly, can you? Don’t worry, you can be of more service here with me. We’ll have to prepare for a ground assault.” She realized she had left this out of the plan so far. “Prepare for ground assault!” she called out for the benefit of anyone who wasn’t busy fiddling with the communications screen, getting to a fighter or preparing the evacuation.
“We’re going to stay?” he blanched.
She sighed. “There aren’t nearly enough ships for us and your people, you know that,” she said. “And, besides, we can’t abandon the homeworld completely. Someone will have to stay.”
“You can’t stay, you’re the Queen,” he said incredulously.
“A Queen’s place is with her planet,” she said sadly. “I’m determined to be a good Queen, if I have to be one at all which unfortunately seems to be the case.”
“I couldn’t help but overhearing,” said Gavolt, turning away from the screen, “and I’m afraid I for one can’t stand for that. We have to get you offplanet, fast. You know why you have to go in person to –”
“I’m the Queen; don’t argue with me. I’m staying.”
“In that case, it may finally be time for my revolution,” Kahlo said, and those around him cheered. This surprised him until they turned out to be cheering because they had miraculously discovered a frequency which was not completely blocked. Things were looking up.
“Quickly,” he said, assuming a leadership position even though none of his new subjects knew what was going on, “send a distress signal to anyone within range. And kidnap her, will you? She has to get out of here safely. You know what, never mind,” he quickly added.
Her eyes brightened. “You’re reconsidering this madness?” she asked hopefully.
“No,” he said, “I’m taking you myself. I got nothing to lose.” A hint of a smile played across his lips. “Don’t get feisty. We revolutionaries tend to have itchy trigger fingers.”
“I told you I wouldn’t make a good Queen;” she said to no one in particular, “this has to be the shortest reign of any monarch in history.”
***
Outside, in the royal hangar, pilots rushed to their ships for the first time in over a decade. There were distressingly few of them, they realized. Perhaps the whelk analogy was a bit generous. Still, they had their orders, and it was the only course of action they could really take anyway, so one by one they jumped in and started the engines.
“Right, now, listen up,” said Sergeant Bardo Pikkes, leader of the squadron, somehow managing to make himself heard above the deafening roar in the enclosed hangar without the benefit of a megaphone. This was it! He was back in action! He quickly adapted the redneck drawl that had been his trademark as a pilot. “When we get up there, there’s gonna be no communications, so y’all are on your own,” he continued.
“I’ve been proud to know ya, boys, so I’m sorry it has to end this way but I’m sure y’all know without support it’ll be a suicide mission. We’ve been through a lot together, and I don’t have time to go over it here, but it would mean a lot if y’each could play a sort of montage in yer heads as yer flyin’ to certain doom. I’ll leave ya with a last word of advice before we shove off.” Tears glistened in his stern eyes despite his attempts to force them back. “Watch each other’s tails, and show those garmy cretins who they’re dealing with. When it’s over, it’s over, but hey, we can keep goin’ for a while.”
As he jumped into his own fighter, the engines were again drowned out, this time by thunderous applause.
***
“The next order of business, I think,” said Kahlo, the new King for the time being, “is getting Bobocitos to a zoo somewhere.”
“Not it,” chorused the court.
Jamillika looked at him appreciatively. It was remarkable that he could look beyond his own problems to those of a lesser creature that wanted no truck with any of this madness and take pity, particularly when said creature had tried to kill him slowly and painfully. It was safer where it was, though, underground in a cell of solid rock; than a natural zoo habitat, at least when the Skreel reached the planet. She mentioned this to him.
“All right then, never mind,” he said. “That’s it then. Let’s go.”
“Fiddlesticks,” she muttered.
***
Bardo Pikkes looked out over the vacuum of space. It never failed, even after all these years, to instill a sense of awe and wonder in him. No matter how hardened his heart grew from the horrors of battle, it was always moved by the sight of so many pinpoints of light, twinkling away silently in the inky blackness.
What distressed him now, however, was the lack of anything else. He didn’t want to face Skreel ships, of course, but since they were invading the fact that he couldn’t see them spelled trouble. They must have been nearby, after all, to have teleported Australia like that. He looked in every direction from the planet when he got far enough, and still nothing. His sensors, of course, were being jammed as well as communications.
Well, he thought, this sucks.
There were a few possibilities; namely a. that the Skreel had lied about invading them for some reason, which would be good, although whatever they were doing instead certainly wouldn’t; b. that they had gone into hyperspace and were waiting for an ambush, perhaps when his fighters got farther from the planet, which would be bad; and c. that they had developed some sort of cloaking device technology, which would be very, extremely dreadful.
A sudden flash of laserfire came from his port side. He jerked his head to look and gasped at how close by the Skreel fighters had materialized. No one knew if they were capable of tracking other ships through hyperspace, so either they had planned it to be intimidating, or it was one heck of a close shave and probably scared them out of their skins as well.
At least it hadn’t been c. Here we go, he thought. Time to get this party started.
Next: Chapter Five