CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lord Fragg kept his lips firmly pressed together, as his private airship slowly lowered toward Landing Pad 324 in Mantin City. The capital of Glukksonia was the largest and most fearsome industrialist port found on Mudos, and as such had never been threatened by Abe or any of his nearly-obsolete kind.
Only a day ago, Fragg would have rendered Abe’s kind as being completely obsolete. But after the feared Mudokon had just showed up in MeechCo, and forced everyone to evacuate the factory, the Glukkon was forced to admit that the Mudokons were not as subdued as he would have liked. Abe was a major threat to everything that the industrialists held dear – their own lives, slaves, and money – and since he was a Mudokon, and all Muds were evil, they had to get rid of Abe somehow.
Fragg rocked at the slight tremor that ran through the airship as it landed on Pad 324. He turned to the Slig at the controls. “Unlock the door.”
“Right away, boss!”
As soon as he heard the click announcing that the door was ready, the Glukkon was striding across the deck toward the exit – and as he went, he considered he might be the only Glukkon who was able to take real strides. He actually wore pants over his mechanically-extended legs, unlike the restrictive one-piece suits that all the others wore.
As he approached, the exit door hissed open. One Slig crewer was already standing on the bow deck, gripping his Barrage-30-D Laser Carbine with both hands. The guard straightened as the Glukkon emerged from the interior of the vehicle.
“Come with me,” Fragg ordered.
The soldier nodded and moved after him, mechanical legs creaking loudly. The Glukkon walked forward, pushed aside the gate that barred him from the metal floor of the landing pad, and hopped down the tiny ramp connected from the tip of the airship to a designed slot in the ground.
Ahead of him was a huge metal door, a full meter of steel barring him from the inside of King Glok’s castle. Two small electric turrets swiveled slowly on either side of the door. Standing several feet in front of the door was a line of eight armored BigBro Sligs, all armed with the Donner Packer 2B guns, the most powerful bullet rifles known to Glukks.
Fragg raised an eyebrow. Apparently, Glok didn’t trust him very much. But then, why should he?
Fragg continued forward without a pause in step. It wouldn’t do if any of the BigBro guards saw him hesitate at the sight of so many deadly guards at the palace gates.
One of the BigBros stepped forward, holding his Donner Packer in his right hand and gesturing back toward the palace with it. “You’re to follow us to the throne room, immediately.”
Fragg smiled thinly. “Excellent. I always hated waits.”
Four of the BigBros turned to the huge gate, which slid upward into the upper parts of the palace at their approach. The patrol leader gestured for Fragg and his guard to follow them, and, left without any choice and ready to speak with the king, the businessman followed.
The inside of Mantin Palace were different than most Glukkon architecture. Whereas most Glukkons designed the buildings for the work they contained rather than art, the Glukkon rulers had obviously had the palace made just so visitors could take their time and admire the marble floors, exquisite paintings lining the wall, and crane their necks to look up at the reconstructed “missing link” bone pieces that supposedly connected Glukkons with Oktogi somewhere in the past.
Fragg, of course, wasn’t impressed by these “scientific” items. Who would be stupid enough to assume that the perfect species had ever been anything different in the past? How could anyone be stupid enough to think that time and chance alone could define the way the universe worked?
On Oddworld, Fragg knew, they were guided by the Hand of Odd. Usually it was against the Glukkons, and for the Mudokons, because in most cases, the Glukkons’ factories ended up in ashes and the distraught businessmen were either dead or ruing their fate in the poorhouses. Sligs were usually just fountains of messy pieces where Abe left them.
The Glukkon kept his gaze forward as they walked through the hallways. He wasn’t going to be impressed by Glok’s choices of artwork, not when he had business to take care of.
The throne room door was similar to the outside door – thick and strong, with another twin set of electric turrets swiveling slowly around. Two more armored Big Brother Sligs guarded the door, but since Fragg was the king’s guest this morning, he didn’t feel overly threatened by the guards.
The door slid open at the four guards’ approach, and Fragg followed right behind them into Glok’s throne room.
Fragg had never been into the royal throne room before, nor had he ever spoken face-to-face with King Glok before, but that didn’t mean he was going to bow and scrape and act amazed and respectful like all the others. He was Lord Fragg, the greatest business-Glukkon to walk Mudos since the famous Molluck, and he was not going to bow to anyone.
He kept his attention on the throne set on the raised dais at the back of the room, and the figure sitting in it. Like most Glukkons, Glok wore a one-piece suit and walked on his hands; as far as Fragg could tell, Fragg was the only one who had undergone the extension of his legs. Glok’s suit was gold and sparkly, completely unadorned except for two similarly gold and shiny epaulettes that showed his dignified rank as king.
As Fragg marched across the throne room, Glok spoke, in a slightly high-pitched voice. “You wanted to speak to me in private?”
The businessman stopped about ten steps away from the throne, and nodded. “Yes. King Glok, I know we have our differences, but – ”
“But we can all join together and crush this Abe guy, and go on living without a problem?” Glok finished airily. “I don’t think so, Fragg.”
The businessman folded his arms across his chest – yet another action no other Glukkon could do. “And why not? As soon as I have another factory up and running, I can pay you 20% sales interest – ”
“And to start it, you would have to borrow government money,” Glok pointed out. “You would therefore have to put it up to a 75% interest rate to satisfy me. And I know you wouldn’t agree to that, so scratch the idea.”
Fragg gritted his teeth. “I take it you don’t see Abe as a threat.”
Glok laughed. “Of course I do, Fragg! He’s destroyed more of our factories and ruined more Slig laborers than any other being in the history of Oddworld, and you think I’d take him lightly?”
“Why else would you refuse to give me an army?” Fragg asked.
Glok smiled. “I simply fail to see where you factor into all this.”
Fragg saw two BigBro Sligs moving forward with Donner Packers raised, and for the first time in the palace, felt a quick burst of fear. “You need me to provide you with money, King Glok. You may get taxes every year, but my factory sells items every day.”
“There are other factories.”
“None that sell as well as mine!” Fragg snapped. “None of them sell Meeches!”
The king nodded. “Perhaps not now…but perhaps after a few hours in the interrogation center, you will have revealed the secret of the Meech beetles’ location.”
Fragg bit his lip. Glok was slipperier than he’d anticipated he would be. But then, they hadn’t elected him king for nothing, had they? “I have a sizeable force of Sligs heading for Mantin City at this very moment, Glok. And when they hear you have me imprisoned, have me tortured, they’ll be on you in a flash.”
“I have far more Sligs than you,” the king chuckled. “And mine are four-legged and on steroids. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“Some of your Sligs will die. A lot of them, in fact.”
Glok nodded. “I understand. But so do they. All of my guards understand that their task involves risk, all the way up to death.”
The Glukkon shook his head. “Guards, take him away.”
The two BigBro Sligs grabbed Fragg around the arms with their steel grip—
Fragg took a deep breath, and said, “I also have slaves.”
“Hold him there.” Glok tipped his head to one side. “What do you mean by that, Fragg?”
“All the slaves from MeechCo,” Fragg said, thinking quickly. “I could hand them over to you in exchange for leadership of your army.”
Glok shook his head. “I could just take them.”
“My Sligs know what to do. If anyone tries to take the slaves, and I haven’t ordered it personally, voice-to-voice, they’ll mow the Mudokons down, and there goes a lot of profit for you.”
“There are always more Mudokons where those came from,” Glok said. “I could just get more in a few years –”
“With Abe on the loose again, you’ll need all the slaves you can get your grip on,” Fragg pointed out. “You know how Abe feels about slavery.”
Glok began to look as if he were taking the suggestion seriously. “True…but you’re no soldier. What could you do at the head of an army?”
Fragg smiled. It looked as if he was going to get out of this situation after all. “I can lead them – I’ve studied military tactics. Besides, once I rebuild MeechCo, I can simply give them a small portion of the proceeds.”
The king nodded. “I see…your suggestion is sensible, Fragg. I will take it into consideration.”
Fragg narrowed his eyes. “That’s what you said before.”
“So I did, so I did…” Glok looked up at the ceiling. “Having an army is soon to be a fact. The question is whether to put you in charge of it.”
Fragg held his breath. This was where it came down to the serious moment – whether he was going to be tortured in a prison cell, or lead a Slig army to destroy this blasted Abe guy for all the trouble he had caused? Would Glok come to realize how useful Fragg would be without torturing him, or would Fragg have to go through even more pain in the game of industrial might?
Glok returned his gaze to Fragg, a friendly-enough smile dawning on his face. “I’ve made my decision, Fragg: you may lead this army against Abe.”
Fragg breathed out in relief. “I’m glad you came to see –”
“And to prove that you’re a worthy general,” the king went on cheerfully, “you will show your toughness in a torture session…where you will reveal to us the location of the Meech beetles.”
Fragg groaned, as the BigBros dragged him out of the throne room toward the detention center.
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