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the other, and stood up staggering—obviously drunk. She grabbed a shirt, half way threw it on, and grabbed the neck of a bottle, from which she took a long drink before addressing her sister.
"Hey, sis, how's it hangin'? I was a little busy," she slurred out.
"I could see that," Stasha said pulling a face."Drewcila, we need you to come home. The country is at war, and Zarco isn't thinking clearly. The people need their queen."
"You can do it. You do a perfectly good job of fooling them. They all think you're me." She walked over and started to rub her free hand up and down the oiled naked body of one of the alien men.
"But I'm not you, Drew. I'm afraid that without your guidance our country will fall into the hands of the Lockhedes." Stasha shook her head then, not quite believing her own words. That she expected this drunken, over-sexed mercenary to save their homeland would have sounded absurd to anyone who didn't know what Drewcila was capable of when she was sober—or at least approaching it—and motivated.
"I told the stupid bastard to open up trade with the Lockhedes—to sign salvaging contracts with them. He didn't listen to me. Why should I give a fuck what happens on Barious? Qwah-Co is very diversified. We'll survive. I have my own problems to worry about, you know. Van Gar gave away one of my ships!"
"While I'd like to believe you weren't engaging in the kind of conduct I just—unfortunately—witnessed while he was with you, I doubt that's the case. Drewcila, what did you expect him to do?"
"Well, I certainly didn't expect him to steal one of my ships and join some hokey-assed religious cult. Oh, tell me, Clod. Why do all my men turn on me?" she said looking up at the big man as she bit one of her knuckles.
"My name is Clote," he said, betraying the IQ of a turnip.
"What . . . ever." Drewcila released him and turned to the monitor, at least for the moment giving her sister her undivided attention."I cannot even start to fuck away my resentment."
"Drewcila . . . I'm not kidding. You need to come home. You have to talk sense into Zarco. He really thinks . . ."
"See, that's the real problem. If you were screwing him right, there wouldn't be enough blood in his brain for him to do any thinking . . ."
"Damn it, Drew . . ."
"My God, Stasha! You said damn it! Do you even know what it means?"
"Not really, but I'll say something worse than that if you don't quit interrupting me, stop drinking, and put the kingdom first for once."
"Screw the kingdom. What has it done for me lately? As a matter of fact, I'm thinking of pulling my salvaging operation from Barious and taking it someplace where they want to make a profit," Drewcila hissed out. Then she took a long swig from her bottle just to accentuate her point—that she wasn't listening to Stasha.
Stasha took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She knew Drew well enough to know that screaming at her wasn't going to do anything but make her more determined than ever to do just exactly what she pleased."Drewcila . . . our people are dying. They're in pain. Can you feel nothing for them? What about showing a little compassion, is that beyond you?"
"Ah, that's too bad." Drewcila took her knuckle and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye."Boo fucking hoo! Now back to what's really important: me, me, me."
"Must you make everything impossible?"
"No, I only make things difficult. Only you can make them impossible."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Stasha asked in confusion.
"How the hell should I know? I got it off some movie I saw. I didn't get it then, and I don't get it now, but it sounds good," Drew said with a shrug. She finished the bottle in her hand."Boys, look around and see if you can't find another one of these."
The two naked men started crawling around on all fours looking through the rubble that covered the floor.
"Is this how you
"Hey, sis, how's it hangin'? I was a little busy," she slurred out.
"I could see that," Stasha said pulling a face."Drewcila, we need you to come home. The country is at war, and Zarco isn't thinking clearly. The people need their queen."
"You can do it. You do a perfectly good job of fooling them. They all think you're me." She walked over and started to rub her free hand up and down the oiled naked body of one of the alien men.
"But I'm not you, Drew. I'm afraid that without your guidance our country will fall into the hands of the Lockhedes." Stasha shook her head then, not quite believing her own words. That she expected this drunken, over-sexed mercenary to save their homeland would have sounded absurd to anyone who didn't know what Drewcila was capable of when she was sober—or at least approaching it—and motivated.
"I told the stupid bastard to open up trade with the Lockhedes—to sign salvaging contracts with them. He didn't listen to me. Why should I give a fuck what happens on Barious? Qwah-Co is very diversified. We'll survive. I have my own problems to worry about, you know. Van Gar gave away one of my ships!"
"While I'd like to believe you weren't engaging in the kind of conduct I just—unfortunately—witnessed while he was with you, I doubt that's the case. Drewcila, what did you expect him to do?"
"Well, I certainly didn't expect him to steal one of my ships and join some hokey-assed religious cult. Oh, tell me, Clod. Why do all my men turn on me?" she said looking up at the big man as she bit one of her knuckles.
"My name is Clote," he said, betraying the IQ of a turnip.
"What . . . ever." Drewcila released him and turned to the monitor, at least for the moment giving her sister her undivided attention."I cannot even start to fuck away my resentment."
"Drewcila . . . I'm not kidding. You need to come home. You have to talk sense into Zarco. He really thinks . . ."
"See, that's the real problem. If you were screwing him right, there wouldn't be enough blood in his brain for him to do any thinking . . ."
"Damn it, Drew . . ."
"My God, Stasha! You said damn it! Do you even know what it means?"
"Not really, but I'll say something worse than that if you don't quit interrupting me, stop drinking, and put the kingdom first for once."
"Screw the kingdom. What has it done for me lately? As a matter of fact, I'm thinking of pulling my salvaging operation from Barious and taking it someplace where they want to make a profit," Drewcila hissed out. Then she took a long swig from her bottle just to accentuate her point—that she wasn't listening to Stasha.
Stasha took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She knew Drew well enough to know that screaming at her wasn't going to do anything but make her more determined than ever to do just exactly what she pleased."Drewcila . . . our people are dying. They're in pain. Can you feel nothing for them? What about showing a little compassion, is that beyond you?"
"Ah, that's too bad." Drewcila took her knuckle and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye."Boo fucking hoo! Now back to what's really important: me, me, me."
"Must you make everything impossible?"
"No, I only make things difficult. Only you can make them impossible."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Stasha asked in confusion.
"How the hell should I know? I got it off some movie I saw. I didn't get it then, and I don't get it now, but it sounds good," Drew said with a shrug. She finished the bottle in her hand."Boys, look around and see if you can't find another one of these."
The two naked men started crawling around on all fours looking through the rubble that covered the floor.
"Is this how you
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