Asarlai Wars 1: Warrior Wench (6 page)

Chapter Five

The crew loaded the ship in record time, with only a few fistfights along the way. The problem arose because there were more crew quarters on the
Warrior Wench
than had been on the
Victorious Dead
. More variety meant more fighting over the selection. She now had forty-five of the best mercenary-trained five-year-olds in the Commonwealth.

Unfortunately, as much as she might like to space most of them right now, she needed all of them. The Commonwealth consisted of an eclectic collection of planets ranging from state-of-the-art technology to one level above hunter/gatherers. A few even mixed it up, creating odd conglomerations of technology. The Commonwealth kept its worlds culturally intact when it added them, and allowed autonomy for each world. Strictly enforced autonomy. They frowned on any group who brought the wrong level of tech to a planet. Since mercenary crews had to be hired through Commonwealth channels, the most successful crews were ones gifted in multiple styles of killing. Vas knew that her people were experts in their fields, each one with a unique skill set. Nevertheless, they were going to drive her mad
with arguing.

“You’ll deal with this?” Vas nodded to Gosta as the squabbling continued. The last twenty-four hours had left her drained and irritable. It would be safer for her people if she didn’t deal with them right now. She might accidentally space a crewmember she’d need in the next fight.

Trying to get her quarters in order might bring her peace. At least it would get her away from the bickering.

****

Vas was just starting to feel better, and her collection of antique blasters and martial arts edged weapons had found a perfect home on her walls, when her door started rattling.

After almost dropping a rare Nlarian two-handed ritual death sword, she yelled for the door to open.

Deven leaned in the open doorway.

“What do you want?” Talking to him right now was one-step above dealing with her fussy crew.

Without waiting for her to invite him in, he walked in and sat down on her bed. “We need to talk.”

“What is it? You’ve been saying we need to talk since I found you. Which, by the way, was not a lot of fun. Most captains don’t have to grab their second-in-command out of a brothel. At least not the charging end of the brothel.”

“How do you know I charged them?”

She swung her desk chair around and sat down facing him. “Don’t give me that. I swear, between you, Mac, and Jakiin I’m spending more time babysitting than I am earning money. Do you think it’s easy supporting an entire planet? In case you haven’t noticed we’ve lost about half of our smuggling space on this damn trollop of a ship. Even if we can mask the idents, which seem pretty damn secure, we won’t have room to carry enough cargo to pay for living expenses.” She bounced to her feet and stalked the room. “Which is another thing. Damn it, they took
my
ship! And now I have to deal with this thing.” She pounded an offending bulkhead. “Do you realize what those other companies are going to say when we get to Lantaria?” She didn’t know where all of that came from but it felt good to say it out loud. With a sigh she resumed her seat. “So what did you want to talk about?”

“A few things.” He looped one long arm around his knee and rocked back. “That being one of them.” He held up his other hand. “No, I didn’t scan you. You’re projecting so loud any esper within eighty miles felt you on Tarantus IV.” His eyes darkened. “It’s more than being mocked for the name of this ship. Although you’re trying not to show it, that poisoning scared you. But you have to get your emotions under control before we set camp for this battle. There will be espers there.”

Vas stewed as he spoke. She never lost control. He couldn’t feel anything. “I know they are sanctioning espers.
I’m
the one who made the contract for this fight. What is your point?”

“If I can feel your unease, other espers can too.”

“If there happens to be any others out there as strong as you. Which I seriously doubt.” Trusting telepaths didn’t come easily for her. Her home planet practically worshipped them, and that had almost ended very badly for her as a child. But she trusted Deven as much as any. He might be telling her the truth about projecting. She’d felt out of sorts since she hit the space station yesterday.

And that was before she knew how exciting her life had become.

“That’s the problem. A level-one esper would read you from a mile away on the planet. Hell, you probably ruined every espers’ game in that casino planet-side.” He leaned forward. “It’s more than the ship, or the attempt on your life. You’ve had people trying to kill you as long as I’ve known you. Whatever is causing the problem, we need to shut it down before we get to Lantaria.”

She stared out the porthole. The answers certainly weren’t in the docking bay before her. If they were anywhere they lurked in her own head. Deven might be able to help her, but she had lifelong rules about telepaths. They were an asset on her crew, great as friends, but she would never let one in her head, her bed, or her heart.

“For the record, most people only try to kill me in battle. Never with centuries-old poisons from the Westergail Wars. I think I have a right to be unnerved about that. As for whatever I’m projecting?” She shrugged; she couldn’t deal with this now. “I have no idea. I am pissed about my ship. However, I also want to know who ordered it to be taken apart. There’s no way even an idiot like Skrankle could have confused the two ships, and this one isn’t anywhere close to a decommissioning. He honestly didn’t think I’d be returning.”

Deven nodded. “What happened to you on your trip? Skrankle is a moron, but he’s also a coward. It’s not good that he felt safe enough dismembering our ship.”

“My ship,” she said, but only half-heartedly. Semantics aside, the
Victorious Dead
belonged to the entire crew and meant a lot to them. “Nothing I can think of.” She couldn’t think of much that happened during her trip that could be deemed threatening. Nothing beyond bad pick-up lines in a few bars anyway, and a few nights with that trader. A recon to go see about a planet for sale. It ended up being longer than she’d intended, nothing to be concerned about.

Except that something in her didn’t want to talk about it to anyone. She shook off the undefined feeling of unease that rose whenever she thought about talking about her trip.

“Look, since we’re not going to find out what’s causing this great psychic leak anytime soon, and since you think it’s going to be a problem, can’t you find a way to block it? Do some of your mumbo jumbo?” She wiggled her fingers at him.

Now it was Deven’s turn to look away. When he turned back to her the lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened. “We have a few days before Lantaria. We should try and get to the bottom of this. Any patch I do may or may not hold since I’m not sure what I’m patching.”

She took an involuntary step away from him; a feeling of utter terror at him prying into her head flooded her. Which was stupid on many levels. One, she never gave in to fear. And two, she trusted Deven with her life.

Granted, she’d never allowed telepaths in her head, but this feeling went beyond that. Her stomach threatened to climb up her throat at the thought. “No. I’ve got too much work to do before battle. We have to be spot on, and the month off won’t have helped.” She waved her hand at him. “Block it.”

He sighed, but went ahead and placed a simple telepathic block that should keep anything in her head from leaking. He’d had to put one on once before for a mission, and he’d explained it very thoroughly at that point. He didn’t explain it this time, but the feeling was the same—sort of as if he’d just put a swimming cap on her head.

There was nothing more to be said, so they went to see how the crew was faring. They were almost back on the bridge when they were slammed to the floor and bounced along the corridor a few feet.

Vas rolled to her feet and ran the rest of the way, expecting to see part of her new ship blasted apart before they even got out of dock. Deven was right behind her.

“What was that?”

“Are we under attack?” Both Deven and Vas spoke at the same time, and looked to do so again when Gosta raised his hand.

“The explosion was on the station.” He flipped the screen toward them and showed what had blown up—Skrankle’s office. Actually his office, the building it was in, and two unlucky nearby scout ships. A gaping hole opened the bay to space before the station’s seals locked in. The sirens that filled the station indicated help would be there soon.

Vas ran her fingers through her hair, finally ripping out the remains of the braid. Who in the hell would want Skrankle killed? Okay, lots of people would want Skrankle dead. And dismembered. And strewn to the far corners of the universe. Nevertheless, she didn’t think most would go so far as to blow him up. Joy at an irritating life blown to bits collided with annoyance at being beaten to the punch. In addition, the fact he might have actually come through on getting back parts of her missing ship.

“Damn it, we’d better see if there’s anything left, I’m positive he knew more about what happened to the
Victorious Dead
.” She turned toward the corridor leading to the hatchway.

Deven blocked her. “You probably shouldn’t go.” His frown was as solid as his arm.

“I have a right to see what happened.” She glared at him.

“Can I talk to you first?” He propelled her toward her ready room. It probably looked like she walked with him by choice. She couldn’t pull away without looking like they were fighting. Which would only lead to more drama and gossip. Her crew might be some of the best at what they did, but they gossiped more than a gaggle of grandmothers.

With a sigh, she followed him into her ready room and shut the door. “Why don’t you want me out there?”

“Who do you think is going to be the number one suspect in Skrankle’s demise?”

“Me? Because I had a disagreement with Skrankle? I only kill people I’m paid to kill, no freelance. Besides, I’ve been with all of you.” Vas paced around the small room. She hadn’t taken the time to personalize it yet, so the room still felt cold and sterile.

He nodded. “Yes, and if you hadn’t been poisoned where would we be by this point?”

“Probably half way to Lantaria if Mac had his way….” She swung around. “You think someone wanted it to look like I did it? Someone stupid enough to not check if we’d left dock yet?”

He raised his hand, the esper bracelets clinking lightly. “Or someone desperate enough. This ship was probably being fitted to be sold to someone, they might not have been happy about him giving it away. And, you said yourself that you roughed him up pretty bad. He had more than enough time to tell the entire station about your attack on him.” He shrugged, the movement tightening the fabric across his chest. “Maybe someone decided to take advantage of a merc captain with a noted temper.”

Vas rolled her eyes to the ceiling; she swore Deven had the nagging skill of a matron. “The minute the masses stop believing I’m a tough-ass bitch is the minute we stop getting jobs.”

“So you’re going to say that you’re not a tough-ass bitch?”

“Not at all. If anyone knows how much of a tough-ass bitch I am, it would be you. But, that image has to be built upon. I built upon it for Skrankle’s benefit. In this case, an obvious waste of perfectly good bitchiness.” She frowned. “I had to dump my second favorite boots because that slime ball oozed on them.” She paused and shook her head. “What the hell were we talking about?”

“How you were going to stay on the ship, and that you’d get Flarik to talk to the station security that you’re sure are coming this way.” Deven folded his arms and leaned against the door.

“I didn’t say that.” Although she agreed with his logic, she had a policy of never giving in without a fight. Especially when it involved Deven.

“No, but it’s a good idea.”

The grin had moved into insufferable by this point. Vas toyed with banning grins on her ship. No matter how nice he looked wearing them, she never trusted any of Deven’s grins.

“I suppose so,” she said finally. “What gender is Flarik this month? Isn’t it in hibernation yet?” Wavians had the ability to switch genders on a regular basis, the male version being more difficult to deal with most of the time. They also had a habit of sleeping through space flights. As a lawyer, Flarik was rarely needed until they reached their destination, so the sleeping habits worked well.

“Female, and yes, she started her sleep cycle as soon as we got on board. But you’re going to need her.”

She rubbed the side of her face in thought. Getting Flarik involved might be a good idea for more than station security deferment. “Wonderful idea. I’ll call her immediately.” She fussed with papers on her desk, then glanced up, feigning surprise at his appearance in her ready room. “Isn’t there something you should be doing?”

The sly grin flashed again, someday she would really have to number them, and he slid out the door.

Vas’s annoyance level rose when she had to search to find the code for Flarik’s room. She knew all the rooms on her old ship by heart. A twinge reminded her that those rooms were missing now. She swore again at the recent explosion. Killing Skrankle should have been her job.