Beauty and the Fleet (Intergalactic Fairy Tales Book 2) by Robert McKay
Authors: Robert McKay
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it better by taking me and my friends hostage and torturing us to the point that we try to commit suicide." If she could have run away from him she would have; she had to settle for turning her head and closing her eyes, hiding her tears.
"That wasn't me, Beatrix. I'm sorry. It's hard to explain. I can feel the leech worming its way back in."
"You apologize for murdering my father and then try to say that it wasn't you. Don't think that I don't recognize you. Your ugly face haunts my nightmares," shouted Beatrix, her words filled with rage. Her anger was so potent and hot that it overworked her feeble body, making her words tremble. "I just wish that I had more strength back then so that I could have cut all the way to your brain instead of cutting off part of your little buddy above your eye."
Josh, or Arryn, or whatever his name was, nodded solemnly. "As do I, Beatrix. It doesn't mean that we don't have to do the best we can with what we've been left. That's what I'm trying to do, but I need your help. I can fight the leech indirectly and propose changes to your treatment in the guise of getting better results. We can talk about idle things for a time without attracting their attention, but everything we talk about must be very circumspect. If you get too direct, the leech may reassert itself with devastating consequences, like it did with your Hands. Just know that I'm trying to help you."
"I'll believe that when I'm on a ship and flying away from here," said Beatrix, shaking her head. "I imagine there will be a pig flying wingman for me that day."
Josh, as Beatrix decided to continue calling him for simplicity, was losing it again. His teeth gnashed and he struggled for every word. "Do not talk directly of escape. It will only lead to the leech taking notice and making life harder for you and your friends. Instead, let us refer to your porcine wingman. Since I don't understand the reference, it should be abstract enough to escape notice."
"I'm pretty sure you don't make any sense at all, Josh," said Beatrix, rolling her eyes. He'd probably hit himself too many times in the head and shaken something loose. "What the hell is all this talk about leeches?"
Josh let out a bellowing roar and hunched over in his chair. He rocked back and forth again, clutching at his head. His screams were mostly nonsense, or in some other language, until he finally hissed out "Syyyymb!" before abruptly resuming a stiff sitting posture, all traces of distress gone from his face. He crossed his hands in his lap and frowned.
It was so disconcerting, Beatrix found herself asking if he was all right before she realized that she shouldn't care.
"We are fine," replied Josh, his words crisp and precise in a way they weren't just a moment before. "Thank you for asking. We really must be going. We're not sure what we're doing here anyway. Do not leave this room. There will be guards posted outside. Should you set foot outside the room, you will be shot on sight."
"I hear you loud and clear, Josh," replied Beatrix, not able to come up with a snappy retort. Her skin crawled and it wasn't because of the threats. There was nothing in that voice that even slightly resembled the conversation she had just had. It was far colder than even his usual timbre with her. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would have sworn they were two entirely separate people. No, not people— monsters . Josh was a monster. Unbidden, a question sprung to the front of her mind: But was Arryn? No, she wouldn't play his games. This had to be some sort of trick to win her sympathy.
"Good, we wouldn't want our investment in you to be wasted," said Josh, rising to his feet and heading toward the door.
"Oh, and don't forget to work on that porcine wingman, Josh," said Beatrix, unable to write the whole incident off. "I'll expect a status report the next time I see you."
"I don't understand what you're talking about," said Josh without a hint of curiosity. He reached
"That wasn't me, Beatrix. I'm sorry. It's hard to explain. I can feel the leech worming its way back in."
"You apologize for murdering my father and then try to say that it wasn't you. Don't think that I don't recognize you. Your ugly face haunts my nightmares," shouted Beatrix, her words filled with rage. Her anger was so potent and hot that it overworked her feeble body, making her words tremble. "I just wish that I had more strength back then so that I could have cut all the way to your brain instead of cutting off part of your little buddy above your eye."
Josh, or Arryn, or whatever his name was, nodded solemnly. "As do I, Beatrix. It doesn't mean that we don't have to do the best we can with what we've been left. That's what I'm trying to do, but I need your help. I can fight the leech indirectly and propose changes to your treatment in the guise of getting better results. We can talk about idle things for a time without attracting their attention, but everything we talk about must be very circumspect. If you get too direct, the leech may reassert itself with devastating consequences, like it did with your Hands. Just know that I'm trying to help you."
"I'll believe that when I'm on a ship and flying away from here," said Beatrix, shaking her head. "I imagine there will be a pig flying wingman for me that day."
Josh, as Beatrix decided to continue calling him for simplicity, was losing it again. His teeth gnashed and he struggled for every word. "Do not talk directly of escape. It will only lead to the leech taking notice and making life harder for you and your friends. Instead, let us refer to your porcine wingman. Since I don't understand the reference, it should be abstract enough to escape notice."
"I'm pretty sure you don't make any sense at all, Josh," said Beatrix, rolling her eyes. He'd probably hit himself too many times in the head and shaken something loose. "What the hell is all this talk about leeches?"
Josh let out a bellowing roar and hunched over in his chair. He rocked back and forth again, clutching at his head. His screams were mostly nonsense, or in some other language, until he finally hissed out "Syyyymb!" before abruptly resuming a stiff sitting posture, all traces of distress gone from his face. He crossed his hands in his lap and frowned.
It was so disconcerting, Beatrix found herself asking if he was all right before she realized that she shouldn't care.
"We are fine," replied Josh, his words crisp and precise in a way they weren't just a moment before. "Thank you for asking. We really must be going. We're not sure what we're doing here anyway. Do not leave this room. There will be guards posted outside. Should you set foot outside the room, you will be shot on sight."
"I hear you loud and clear, Josh," replied Beatrix, not able to come up with a snappy retort. Her skin crawled and it wasn't because of the threats. There was nothing in that voice that even slightly resembled the conversation she had just had. It was far colder than even his usual timbre with her. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would have sworn they were two entirely separate people. No, not people— monsters . Josh was a monster. Unbidden, a question sprung to the front of her mind: But was Arryn? No, she wouldn't play his games. This had to be some sort of trick to win her sympathy.
"Good, we wouldn't want our investment in you to be wasted," said Josh, rising to his feet and heading toward the door.
"Oh, and don't forget to work on that porcine wingman, Josh," said Beatrix, unable to write the whole incident off. "I'll expect a status report the next time I see you."
"I don't understand what you're talking about," said Josh without a hint of curiosity. He reached
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