Rath rubbed at the blood splotch on his sleeve, massaging it into the fabric in a hasty effort to make it less noticeable right before he barged into Highness' study.

Her fists clenched atop maps strewn over her desk as she shot up out of her chair. "You are begging for a bloodletting."

"Apologies, Highness," he said, letting the right amount of concern slip into his drawl, "but it appears we're off course."

"So right the coordinates," she snapped, plopping back down into her chair, attention already back on places to pillage.

"The minion's tried to no avail."

"You know I hate you calling them that."

"Sorry. Must be a subconscious loathing."

Her eyes threw daggers at him.

"Must I do it all, then?" she spat, pushing back up from her desk, then muttered something about monkeys playing at puzzles.

"Evidently," he droned.

Elsie shot him a flinty glare as she strode past him and out into the hall toward the control room, her expertly tousled hair, bobbing against her cashmere.

Giddy with anticipation, Rath trailed closely behind.

The doors that led to the honeycomb-shaped control room her minions had nicknamed The Hive, opened as quickly as diligent servants step aside; queens don't need keys--a minor spell casted with a drop of her blood, courtesy of daddy dearest, had seen to that. Exuding dominance, she stalked around the room like a pack leader, eyes roving over every shoulder. Monitors lined the wall, and before each one a loyal starbird sat, their spines a little too straight, eyes trained on their screens and furiously typing away.

Rath stood in the center, ready for the show, as Highness came around to the starbird at the global positioning unit. In truth, it had been Rath who tampered with the ship's flight pattern in plain sight after getting the man drunk. He had once let slip his weakness for sherry. Alcohol wasn't permitted aboard the ship, but Rath had snagged a bottle more than an orbit ago on a ground excursion in the event it would prove useful to pocket this sot. Sure enough, he had come to the bottle with all the reserve of a vampire bat lustily descending on a cow.

Now his head was resting on his chest, and Rath could detect a faint snoring. Elsie stood behind the swindler, observing him the way a mother might eye a son who has gambled away the family fortune—her face crumbled like the crust above an earthquake, she swung her arm back and slapped the back of the man's head with a resounding thwack. The inertia swung his swivel chair around as he woke and looked groggily about before his lidded gaze shot back to Highness. Naked fear tainted his ruddy countenance as he toppled from his chair and hit the floor with a thud, then proceeded to stare dumbly up at her.

"Stand up," Elsie said, each word clipped.

He got to his feet, using his chair for support, which only added to his tottering like a Grizzly being taught to walk on its hind legs. Once upright, he scanned the room, fishing for a sympathetic eye to no avail. His bloodshot gaze lingered on Rath and the threat that he might blab may have chilled a weaker man, but the dastard's rope was short, and he knew his master was about to hang him with it. They all knew. Help was beyond him.

Rath's mouth crinkled at the edges as the man turned his drooping gaze back on Elsie.

"Explain to me why we've been off course for the last hour and—" she gave his monitor a swift glance, "twenty-three minutes."

The man blinked like he was seeing double and trying to decide which head was truly hers.

Elsie balled up her fist and slugged him, propelling him into his monitor and knocking his cap askew. An alarm squealed as he slid down his keyboard and gravity returned him to the floor. Using his unreliable swivel chair for balance, he stood up again, quicker this time. The threat of a mad woman has a way of sobering a man. Nose bleeding, he looked her dead in the face.

"Highniece, I 'ave contribooted to an uh-undeliable error an' wi-ill promptly right it," he slurred, then swallowed a burp.

Elsie moved in close with a scrunched up nose and assessed him as if he were a giant, putrid slug as he cringed at the diminishing space.

"You stink of alcohol."

A few starbirds quit typing to grant the scene the tails of their eyes.

"No," he spurted. "I 'aven't—"

"Are you calling me a liar?"

His mouth gaped, emitting guttural sounds. Rath imagined moths flying out.

"No, Highness," he resigned.

"Go stand in the center."

Rath was already backing away, moving out of the danger zone.

"No. Highness, please."

She needn't say a word but simply looked him in the eye and he started to back up like a beaten dog, stumbling toward the center of the room. He halted atop the sky door and started to cry.

Elsie grimaced. "I don't keep on broken parts."

"Please," he whined, shaking his head. "P-Please don't s-send me through."

She seemed to give it a thought. "OK."

Bemused, the man looked around at his peers—most of whom had now turned fully around in their chairs to see a man die—before daring to take a breath of relief and show a wobbly smile. "Oh, Highness. Thank—"

Elsie pulled a .22-caliber revolver from her belt and shot the man between the eyes quicker than his smile could falter and blood and brains shot across the marble as the man fell with a thud for one final, undignified time.

Elsie cursed, returning the gun to her belt. "I loathe the spineless ones.

"Open the door," she barked over her shoulder.

Without hesitation, a minion sitting at the front flipped up a glass cover and mashed the blue button underneath. A circular door opened in the floor and the sky swallowed the dead man. The minion pushed the button again, closing the door, all with the composure of one throwing out the trash.

"Get us back on course," Elsie said to the room.

A starbird who had stood guard at the door quickly took a seat at the global positioning unit.

"Sometimes a lesson is worth the stain," Highness said to Rath, eyeing the splatter. "Clean that up," she barked to no one in particular.

Another starbird at the door exited, presumably to find something to soak up the guts.

All the busy bees were back to work, a fresh reminder that they were disposable meat suits swirling around their skulls.

But there was only one methuselah.

Rath's time at Elsie's side had slugged on like a life sentence, but in truth, the transition to trust had gone smoother than he had ever thought possible. Because she fancies herself superior to mortals. I am the next best thing.

Today she would learn what a grave mistake she had made. Rath finally allowed himself that smile.