[The bee-man appears dazed. His ship is melted in spots, but hanging together well. Debts are paid, and there star-bits in his account. But things are moving fast. Revolutions by night are never painless, they’re usually cross-eyed with their facts cutting a whole in us all. He clears his throat. He realizes may have been muttering aloud.]
So many Captains lost, so many crews returned to dust and smoke.
In whose memory I’ll forego a smoke of my own – Barkeep, friend! Set me up with a glass of your finest Talaxian Space-Gin, if you please!
Fellow Captains: Raise your drinks on high, and seal your fate forever, Our best years have past us by: the golden age of space-Captains.
[he starts singing here, somewhat tunelessly - more of a droning buzz that goes high into the ears past where you think couldn’t hear anymore, and down deep into the belly and bones, gut and carapace, gently ratting the coins in your pocket, the pincers on your claws, the antlers on your head, the chitin on your back; but not unpleasantly so.]
So grab your rose and ring side seat
We’re back home at Ducky’s bar
The blond lizard with her tattoo
Reds and wine, honeymeades of course
Oh my Nillah, my Nillah
Why did we ever start
It’s morning now, you’d never know
The gin, the gin, glows in the dark, glows in the dark
And underneath, the black light
Underneath it all
Four and forty red-lobs meet
Come to doom 'til the dawn
With threats of antimatter and rose motif
Their claws apart like a swollen rose
Their antennae extend and then retract
A redcap, a redcap, before the kiss, before the kiss
Doors like flint and window panes
An endless inflatable bar
The Unizone lobs have gone to work
To stop big deals behind the bar
While outside on the space-pike
They got this new hit tune
Where thrills become as cheap as antimatter
And antimatter as cheap as thrills
One thrill and mundane here at last
Expect the cross one more
Lecherous invisible
Beware the limping lizard
Whose black teeth grip between loose jaws
Still ripe and fully bloomed
A rose that’s not from anywhere
That you would know or I would care
And the Unizone drones act most cheerfully
Back home at Ducky’s bar
When their patrons’ thoughts at last
Grow too big for their skulls
And awful things are happening
We’ve let this drama fold
And now the time has come at last
To crush the motif of the rose
So grab your rose and ring side seat
We’re back home at Ducky’s bar
The blond lizard with her tattoo
Reds and wine, honeymeades of course
Oh my Nillah, my Nillah
Why did we ever start
It’s morning now, you’d never know
The gin, the gin, glows in the dark, glows in the dark
[The bee-of-space is silent for some time. Which many are grateful for. Then he speaks again.]
I’m going to go sober up. Can’t hold gin worth a damn. Never could, and certainly not now. When I return, I’ll tell you what it’s like trying to pass for human in this damn insect-hating galaxy. And about the ships we lost. And why we fight each other as though we’re covered with the stink of different queens. We need to Kill the Masters.
#FUCK UNIZONE: THEIR HIVES MUST BURN
[The bee takes one more drink of his gin which is, unlike everybody elses, glowing. Wipes his face with what looks like a red cloth with a yellow-hive motif, then passes out on the floor with a sound more like jello dumped from the top of a building. Golden drool drools from his mouth, pooling into a small pool of drool, and attracting a single space-fly. After a quick sampling with his tiny Gieger-counter, it hurriedly buzzes off. In another minute a waxy but well-buffed drone hovers in and loads him on the float-plate, and buzzes back out the door.]
Duck calls at the back of the retreating drone: THERE’S NO CREDIT. YOU’LL PAY UP OR STAY OUT.
