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the time I arrive, I expect to see a peace agreement and salvaging contracts written up. If you don't settle this, and settle it quickly, there will be hell to pay."
     
    Zarco had heard her, and his anger boiled inside him, but, there was something so distracting that concentrating on anything else was impossible."What happened to your tongue?"
     
    Drew mumbled something completely inaudible that he was sure were horrible curses meant only for him before she answered."It's dye. It will wear off in a few days," she explained, slinging her hand around dismissively. Then she added in a hardly audible whisper, "I hope."
     
    His question answered, Zarco's anger reared its ugly head again."You will not give me orders. I'm not that trained dog of a hair-covered beast you keep in your bed. I am the king, and I will make policy concerning the country and the war. We will not make peace. We will not make trade agreements or sign contracts with the Lockhedes our sworn enemies . . ."
     
    Drew waved her hand at him dismissively, in that moment looking every bit like the queen she had once been, instead of the salvaging whore she had become."My people will be there in an hour. You will sit down with them and try to sort this thing out so that all I have to do when I get there is finish cleaning up the mess that you have made. Close transmission."
     
    Zarco leapt from his chair at the console, slamming his hand down upon it. She'd openly defied him! She looked like death warmed up and she had just closed out on him, yet in that one instant he had seen back to what she once was and he couldn't deny that he still had strong feelings for her.
     
    However, all of this had the opposite of Drewcila's desired effect, for Zarco rose from his chair more determined than ever to carry out his war effort against the Lockhedes. And this time there would be genocide. This time he would rid the planet of their blight forever.
     
    Zarco looked up at the clock on the wall. Drewcila's "people" would be on their way by now. Alien scum, every one of them, and why did she assume that he'd cave in to them anymore than he'd cave in to her?
     
    He'd had just about enough of Drewcila, and more than enough of her little salvager friends. He smiled.
     
    "Come on, salvaging swine," he mumbled, "I've got quite a surprise for you, and for your boss. Quite a surprise indeed."
     
    * * *
    Dylan Allen looked with distaste at his two friends."Why?" he whined.
     
    "Because that's what the bitch said," Arcadia hissed. She wasn't angry. Valtarian lizard people always spoke with a hiss, which made them sound mad to everyone who'd never actually seen one of them mad. Once you had seen an angry Valtarian, you didn't forget how they looked or sounded. That was if they let you live.
     
    "If she can't talk him into a treaty and trade agreement, what makes her think that we can?" Dylan seemed permanently fixed to his bed, making no indication that he was going to move."We're just going to be wasting our time. Let's concern ourselves with trying to keep the operation running as smoothly as possible under the circumstances, and let Drewcila handle the pompous ass herself when she gets here."
     
    "Get your worthless, lazy ass up!" Pristin ordered authoritatively.
     
    Pristin, an Ontorian, was only three feet tall and almost as wide and looked for the most part like a deranged, turquoise hand puppet. However his twelve inch mouth held two rows of razor sharp teeth and the little bastard was amazingly fast. So when Pristin talked, his subordinates listened. This, as much as the fact that he was a brilliant businessman, was no doubt why Drewcila Qwah, the queen bitch of the salvaging empire, had put him in charge of running her operation on Barious.
     
    Dylan sighed and got up, straightening his clothes. They were all wearing basically the same thing—the sleeveless blue jump suit with the Qwah-Co logo. Of course, since they were big shots, their suits were better cut and