THE PATSY
Gregor burst into his cabin, practically floating on air. “He likes me,” he burbled. “Lord Fehrle really likes me.”
Mitzi sat up in bed, letting the sheet drift artfully down so that it barely covered her snowy white bosom.
They bounced enticingly, as she clapped her hands, exclaiming, “How wonderful, sweetie. It’s like I said. He just needed time to see your true worth.”
“You were so right, Mitzi,” Gregor said, as he strode to the bar, inset beneath a faux porthole which showed a vid display of starry space. “He even said that I was like the son he never had.”
“You see,” Mitzi exclaimed. “You’ve just been sick all this time, sweetie. And who wouldn’t have been? Stuck on dreary old Wichlandia with nothing to do but think about the nasty old days with mutineers.”
“I blame father for that,” Gregor said, as he poured himself a hefty shot of Pulinka, that heady, highly addictive liqueur made from a poisonous New Brovarian fruit tree.
“Want some?” he absently asked Mitzi, displaying the bottle of clear liquid that shimmered under the cabin lights.
Suppressing a shudder, she shook her head. It took twenty distillations to make Pulinka drinkable and although it would no longer kill you, the stuff ate away at the brain, separating the real from the fanciful. In the end stages, Pulinka addiction led to constant nightmares and suicidal obsessions.
“No, you go ahead sweetie,” she said. “I’ll stick with my usual.”
She came off the bed, noting Gregor’s lustful reactions as she slipped on a sheer, rose-colored robe.
He tried to embrace her, but Mitzi slipped under his reaching arms, giggling like a little girl.
“Not now, silly,” she admonished him. “First, I want to hear all about your meeting with Lord Fehrle.”
Gregor was so full of his imagined victory over the cold, forbidding Tahn overlord, that he was only mildly disappointed. He downed his drink, poured another, then plopped on the bed.
“Father has always kept me far away from his business dealings,” Gregor said, as Mitzi fetched a red clay bottle from the fresher.
It contained nothing more than lemon infused water that Gregor thought was a special cognac from Mitzi’s homeworld.
“When mother died he shipped me off to military school,” he continued. “And then, when I was falsely accused of stealing from my roomie, he talked me into joining the Guard. Saying service to the Empire would repair my reputation, so I could hold up my head when I joined him in business someday.”
He shook his head. “But that day just never seemed to come,” he said. “There was always some technical reason or another that kept me from taking my rightful place in his businesses.”
Mitzi sat beside him, sipping her drink. All rapt attention. “Why anyone would believe you’d steal is beyond me,” she said. “I mean, you’re rich. You can have anything you want. What reason would you have to steal?”
The shift of Gregor’s eyes gave away his guilt. The item in question had been a pearl-handled hunting knife his roommate had won in a shooting competition. A competition that saw Gregor come in last. The reasons for the theft were jealousy and greed. But Gregor would never admit to that.
“That’s exactly what I told the headmaster,” Gregor said. “But he wouldn’t listen. He said it was proof that I was no gentleman because I wouldn’t admit I was in the wrong. And take my medicine.”
Gregor downed yet another drink and Mitzi didn’t make him wait for more. She had the bottle handy and quickly poured another shot.
She bent low as she poured, so he’d be captivated by her breasts spilling from the robe. Meanwhile, she flipped open the lid of an antique Borgia ring and dumped its contents into the glass.
Gregor drank and smacked its lips, then said. “Pulinka always tastes so much better when you pour it for me.” He frowned. “I wonder why that is?”
Mitzi giggled her most charming giggle. “It’s just love, silly,” she said. “Things always taste better when its offered by someone you love.”
Gregor’s frown vanished. After another sip, he said, “Father didn’t even bother to defend me, much less hear my side of the story.” He wiped away a stray tear. “Father just took their word for it.”
He thumped his chest. “Me. His own son.”
“That was so unfair,” Mitzi said, nudging his elbow so he’d remember to drink more Pulinka. “And then those dirty smeg heads in the Guard treated you any better.”
“They all acted like I was just an ordinary person,” Gregor said, voice shaking with outrage. “Especially Sten. He was the worst of the lot. He said I was no better than anyone else. Me! Gregor Wichman. Son of the great Lord Wichman. Confidant of the Emperor.”
“I’ll bet Lord Fehrle didn’t treat you that way,” Mitzi said.
“Just the opposite,” Gregor said. “When I entered his cabin he got up and shook my hand. And then he apologized for seeming to ignore me during the journey. He said Skink and the other pirate captains were meeting crazy. Every time he turns around they want another meeting to discuss the mission. And then they quarrel with one another and it takes all the energy and tact that he possesses to keep them from killing each other.”
Gregor took another hit of Pulinka. “I swear, the man has the patience of a saint. I don’t know how he puts up with them.” He shook his head. “Especially Skink. He’s such a barbarian.”
He lapsed into silence, reflecting on the meeting, a smile playing at the edges of his lips as he remembered the warm handshake, the lovely dinner Fehrle’s servants laid out for them and the intimate talk that they’d had.
“Lord Fehrle even told me about his own childhood,” Gregor said. “About how his father had underestimated him as well. And he advised me to be patient. That the day would soon come when I’d replace my dad as the CEO of Wichman Enterprises. Just like he’d replaced his own father when the right time came.”
It was Mitzi’s guess that Fehrle had probably assassinated his old man. She’d never know how right she was. The senior Fehrle had caught his son plotting a takeover with other discontented young Tahn. But before he could act, the young Fehrle had cut his throat and then paid a fortune to have the body disposed of. To the rest of the Tahn world the old man had tragically vanished while vacationing in the mountains.
Gregor said, “Lord Fehrle told me that now they were nearing our destination he’d be busier than ever and to forgive him if he seemed to be neglectful in the coming days and weeks.”
Mitzi’s eyebrows rose. She said, “Oh. Near the end are we?”
Gregor shot her a suspicious look. “What do you care?” he asked. “Not getting bored are you?”
“Oh, Sweetie,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. “How could I ever be bored when I’m with my lover boy?” She pursed her lips in a lovely pout. “But you did promise that you’d buy me some new clothes and jewelry when we got to a place with shops and stuff.”
She ran her hands down the silken robe, which cost more than most working folk made in a year.
“Everything is getting worn out,” she said. “And pretty soon you’re going to get tired of seeing me in the same old things.”
Appeased, Gregor laughed. “Women!” he said. “You’re all addicted to shopping. It must come with the extra X chromosome.”
He polished off his drink. Mitzi quickly helped him to another.
“Sorry to disappoint you, honey,” he said, “but I don’t think they have very many glamorous shops where we’re going. In fact, I doubt if there are any.
“They’ll be setting up the ambush at old pirates’ lair. A place called Punta Royal, in the SaganGx6 sector. Wherever the clot that is.”
* * * *
Later, when the drug took effect and Gregor passed out on the bed, Mitzi got a little device from her stash of sex toys. It had two leads, which she attached to his temples. Soon as she pressed a little button Gregor began squirming and moaning in ecstasy. In his mind, he was enjoying a marathon sexual bout with Mitzi, where nothing was forbidden and all was welcome.
She’d kept him happy this way for months now, without ever having to actually allow a real sexual act to take place. She shuddered. He was such a creep that it made her sick just to think about it.
Tucked into another toy was a remarkable little comm device just out of the Mantis labs. She keyed it, then slipped it into her ear.
Static. Then a voice.
It was Ida.
“Punta Royal,” Mitzi said. “In the SaganGx6 sector.”
Gregor moaned.
“What was that noise?” Ida asked.
“Oh, just another satisfied customer,” Mitzi said with a laugh.