Embassy War by Walter Knight Page B

general. “It is poor precedent not to send a strong message to the humans and the rest of the galaxy that murdering royalty will not be tolerated. Our new stealth starships are just now coming online. We are ready as ever for the humans.”
    “Quite right,” replied the Scorpion King, after giving the matter some thought. “We can’t allow royalty to be abused. Summon the American Ambassador to file a formal protest of this outrage!”
    “With all due respect, your Majesty, a formal protest is not enough. It is a matter of national honor. We need to send a stronger message.”
    “We will deal with national honor in the time-honored traditional way,” advised the Scorpion King. “When the Ambassador arrives, eat him!”
    “Yes, Your Majesty. Barbecued?” “Must I micro-manage everything? Handle it!” “Yes, Your Majesty.” “You are absolutely sure the Queen is dead?” asked the Scorpion King, hesitation in his voice. “I want to see the video.” The general replayed the assassination on his pad. There was not doubt the Queen was dead, and the humans were responsible. It was that legionnaire Colonel Czerinski, causing problems as usual. A real trouble maker, remembered the Scorpion King. The full implications of the dastardly deed were becoming more evident to His Majesty.
    “You know what this means?” asked the Scorpion King, pointing at the screen. “This means I can stay out as long as I want! It means I can drink as much as I want. It means I can have group sex in the street with as many loyal subjects as I desire!”
    “Not in the streets,” advised the general. “Think about what the intergalactic tabloids would say and print.”
    “Bunch of alien busybodies is what they are,” groused the Scorpion King. “I do not care what inquiring minds want to know. Call 1-8-PARTY-BABES right now. I want Scorpions Gone Wild party babes summoned to the Palace as soon as possible. I want group sex now!”
    “I love that show, but what about Czerinski and the humans?” asked the general.
    “Czerinski can get his own females!” fumed the Scorpion King. “I heard about that pervert. Did you know there is video of Czerinski on the Galactic Database, having sex with spiders? The degenerate bastard!”
    “Your Majesty, if we are not going to go to war with the USGF, we need to at least demand the arrest and extradition of Colonel Czerinski. Justice demands Czerinski be brought here to our home world, tried, and publicly executed. His death should be as slow and painful as possible.”
    “Quite right,” agreed the Scorpion King, again. “And then we eat Czerinski!”
     
     
    * * * * *
     
     
     
    Death met me again in my burned out office. The room still smelled of smoke. I sat at my desk, emotionally drained and tired to the bone. Bones! The Grim Reaper loomed over me, menacingly waving his scythe.
    “You passed my little test,” he started. “Good job! I knew you could do it.”
    “Happy now?” I asked. “I removed the large diamond stud from my ear. It seemed heavier as of late, and the pull on my ear was annoying. I placed it on my desk.
    “I am ecstatic,” replied the Grim Reaper, eyes fixated on Skyhook’s diamond stud. “I have big plans for you, Czerinski.”
    “What are you? You are obviously humanoid, so your origin must be Old Earth. But, you are inexplicably held together by what? Some sort of gravitational field? Is there hidden technology keeping you together? Or maybe camouflage, or illusion?”
    “I am the all-powerful, omnipotent Grim Reaper. I do no need your puny human technology for my power. The Force is with me!”
    “What?”
    “I always wanted to say that,” replied the Grim Reaper with a shrug. He sat on the rickety burned chair in front of my desk, crossing his boney legs. “Great movie, Star Wars . What I am is beyond your comprehension!”
    “Yet you want something from me. What? Stop playing around and come out with it, or I will embrace death and be done