Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,113

will make them the most money. I’ve been paying them off for years.”

Moe nodded. “Classic mercenaries. They’re probably waiting for their cut of the loot, which might be the best way to get them to leave.”

“Perhaps,” Velkma said. “However, should they wish to make their homes here, we will not deny them the opportunity.”

Moe thought this would be a mistake, but considering that the revolution couldn’t have happened without their assistance, the Haedusians owed them some thanks. “That’s up to you, of course. Although, you might need some extra muscle to rebuild the city.”

Klara nodded. “The hard part will be deciding where to start.”

Once again, Velkma laughed. “We will need building materials first, most of which must be imported.” She shook her head slowly as her expression sobered. “We have a long, hard road ahead of us. I only hope we are up to the task.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past the Ladies Auxiliary.” Moe ladled out a cup of punch and tasted it. “Not bad.” He poured another cupful and handed it to Klara, whose piña colada was long gone. “Can’t taste any booze, so it should be okay for you to drink, and certainly good enough for a toast.” He held up his cup. “To the women of Haedus Nine. May they continue to prevail against adversity.”

Everyone within earshot stared at him as though he’d just sprouted antennae.

“Don’t guess you have that tradition,” he muttered. “To make a toast, you clink your glasses together and drink to someone’s health or whatever.”

“To the women of Haedus Nine.” Klara tapped her cup to Moe’s, apparently catching on to the idea as quickly as she’d gotten the hang of the waltz.

Velkma and Yirland joined in, despite appearing somewhat doubtful. “To the women of Haedus Nine.”

Moe grinned. “By George, I think they’ve got it.”

Klara eyed the banquet laid out on the tables with a much better appetite than she had when the Zuterans had served up her lunch earlier that day. Not surprisingly, roast chicken and fish were among several items she couldn’t identify. She gave Moe a nudge. “See any hot dogs?”

“Nope,” he replied. “But then, that was too much to hope for anyway. Although Mom probably has some on her ship.” With a short laugh, he added, “Come to think of it, I should have some on my ship, if Nevid hasn’t eaten them all. He tends to be something of a stress eater.”

If Klara had possessed a similar tendency, she would’ve outweighed a Nedwut by now. Stress had always tended to have the opposite effect on her, which, given the scarcity of food, was probably for the best. Otherwise, her gang would’ve revolted against her long ago.

Staring at the feast laid out before her—which was still substantial, even given the hordes of revelers who had already eaten their fill—it shocked her to recall that nearly the entire population of Srekatoa had been living on the brink of starvation for years. That such a basic need often went unfulfilled made her angrier than ever. She and her gang had lived on the fringes of society; for them to go hungry wasn’t too surprising. But the everyday lack of food among the general population was unacceptable and apparently preventable. Pelarus had so much to answer for.

She glanced at Moe, who seemed to have lost interest in what happened to Pelarus—or at least forgotten about it for a few brief moments. She, on the other hand, hadn’t forgotten for one second. A fitting punishment for such a cruel tyrant was beyond her imagination.

Unless…

A low growl escaped her. “Banishment won’t be enough. We really should put Pelarus in a cage and watch him starve to death. Or at least make him beg for food.” She could picture the passersby tossing scraps to him, laughing as he groveled in his own filth. “Everything he’s done to this world should be done to him.”

“I don’t think the Ladies Auxiliary are that vindictive,” Moe said gently. “But I see your point. He deserves much, much worse. Still, stripping him of his wealth and power may prove to be enough. If he ever had to struggle to earn a living, he’s probably forgotten about it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe he’s ever had to worry about where his next meal was coming from. He strikes me as the type who was born to wealth and privilege. Born lacking perspective into how the rest of us live. Moreover, he cares nothing for anyone else’s welfare. He only cares