Teleporteus, conscious of the muskiness of his magnificently squalid quarters and the lewdly entwined statues displaying every form of copulation known to his degenerate mind, looked at Queen Beia with disdainful arrogance. He didn’t like her. In fact, he didn’t like queens very much on principle, for why should any woman be equal to a king? And yet, there was something about her that teased his mind. For a women, she seemed unusually devious. Almost equal to me, thought the prince.
“I get the feeling you’ve been trying to attract my attention,” he drawled, eying her figure up and down like a stockbroker at a financial meltdown. “Now, why would that be? Are you randified? Do you seek the embrace of the two-backed beast?”
“I like strong men,” breathed Queen Beia, playing up to his gaze. “For too long I have ruled over drones. I believe I am worthy of bigger things – worthy of an empire!”
“Apparently you already rule a tinpot little world.”
“Simulacra may be small, but my word is law,” she said proudly. “You cannot make that claim of Skorpeo.”
“Your word was law,” snapped Teleporteus. “Now you are my prisoner. And my word is law, as far as you are concerned.”
“Together we could rule Skorpeo!”
“Let’s see what you have to offer. Strip! Show me your assets!”
This command was scarcely necessary as Queen Beia was already attired in the skimpiest of torn rags – nevertheless, she obeyed. She belly-danced, she undulated, she contorted, wriggling like the lewdest of whores as she slid each rag along her limbs before letting it drop to the chilly obsidian floor. Slyly, she glanced at the arrogant young prince to gauge the effect of her libidinous display, but he remained aloof. A cool customer indeed!
“An empire together, oh Mighty One! – with me as your queen.” She concluded her nude cavortings at his feet.
“Why should I share Skorpeo with a Replicoid?” asked Teleporteus.
“I am no Replicoid,” insisted Queen Beia. “I am an original being – a queen in my own right!”
“According to my information, you are part of an experiment by the greatest evil scientist in the galaxy.”
“Perhaps,” she said in a surprisingly mollified tone. “Yet I live, and I breathe, and make love like no one else. I can give you great pleasure, Teleporteus!”
He said nothing in reply. Though he had not been unmindful of her charms, he could not stop thinking about the impending battle, and the Skorpean fleet was strong…
“My Lord’s brow is vexed,” observed Queen Beia. “What troubles his great mind?”
“I know you’re just flattering me to get on side and further your ambition. I have used such methods myself, so do not think I will fall for your tricks.”
“I speak only the truth,” she said. Glistening with sweat, her face was a cameo of sincerity. “And would the mighty Teleporteus prefer a lily-white maiden of milk by his side?”
“I admit you have a point. Very well – I’ll tell you my problem, and you may offer a solution. If I like your ideas I will spare your life and may even make you my que… well, we’ll see. If you fail, I’ll hand you back to the Octopus or throw you to the Slothlings. I believe they make love very slowly and in the most unusual ways – unfortunately, no one’s ever lived to tell the tale!”
“Speak on, oh Emperor-To-Be,” Queen Beia crooned. “Your words are music to my ears, for they are always hungry for tales of naked ambition, extraordinary evil, and smouldering lust for power.”
He settled into his chair. “My father Zoah believes I am vanquishing the Punkoids and annexing the kingdom of the Rhomboids,” he said, “whereas I have made them my allies in my bid to wrest Skorpeo from his senile grasp. He will expect me to return in triumph –”
“And so you shall, My Lord,” cried Queen Beia. “So you shall!”
“With any luck the Volgogthians will have defeated the thunderous fossil on their own. Somehow, I don’t think they’ll manage it. They are coarse, unimaginative brutes who believe the best way to take anything is by pure force.”
“Not so, My Lord – one needs guile as well.”
“Precisely,” said Teleporteus. “So we need a plan to fool Zoah and wrap up my victory.”
“Here’s what you should do,” said Queen Beia without hesitation. “Send a message to Zoah telling him that you and Rhameo have been captured, and that Zoah must come alone and unarmed to the camp of the Octopus if he hopes to see you alive again. Of course, he will come, which will leave Skorpeo without its head – that is the time for the Volgogthians to strike in greatest force, and by the time he reaches the Sargasso, Skorpeo will have been taken. When Zoah arrives you take him prisoner, then return in glory to Skorpeo where you tell the people that he betrayed them to the Volgogthians, and in turn, you overthrow them. You then de-tentacle the Octopus, who is far too powerful for his own good, and leave him wallowing perpetually in his own slime. You will rule the galaxy as the most powerful overlord in its fifteen-billion-year history, and I will be at your side, ever ready to give Machiavellian counsel.”
Teleporteus looked at the queen in admiration. The woman, Replicoid or no, was absolutely brilliant! Not even he would have dared to think of de-tentacling the Octopus – and yet it was logical. The finest logic in the universe was always that of complete ruthlessness.
“Your scheme has merit,” he conceded. “All right, you can be my queen.”
Queen Beia embraced him and kissed him with the enthusiasm of a true space harlot. “Mighty lord, let us cement our great union in the ways in which I am so skilled.”
She undid the top button of Teleporteus’s tunic. He felt aroused by her devious ways, though it was the nakedness of her ambition rather than the brazen exposure of her svelte body that brought him to a sudden pitch of desire. Quickly, he shed his battle gear; within seconds they consummated their concupiscence with a series of lecherous expletives that would have made Juraletta blush.
As they lay panting on the floor a few minutes later, Queen Beia turned to look at Teleporteus.
Now I have you where I want, you arrogant, shamefully endowed little Prickoid, she thought.