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.
After a few minutes she found the number and tapped it into the ship’s comm system. “Flarik? I know you’re going down for sleep, but I need you.” Vas tried to sound as understanding as possible but she’d had a shitty twenty-four hours and wasn’t in the mood. However, pissing off a sleepy Wavian often led to a radically shorter life, even for a mercenary captain.
A low voice chimed in after a few seconds. “What is it, Captain? I need to hibernate.”
“You’ll have time to go under before we take off. But I need you to come to my ready room.”
A sigh on the other end told Vas that Flarik fought off her sleep. “I will be there.”
Terse, but not bad for a Wavian who had been awake for a month.
Deven’s idea of bringing in the lawyer was a sound one, even if he did it to keep Vas out of the space station cops’ way. She also needed someone who enjoyed mystery, deceit, and drama to look into other things for her. A lawyer, particularly a Wavian lawyer, would be the perfect choice.
Flarik had only taken a few minutes to get to her ready room, yet as always, she arrived impeccably dressed and groomed. No matter which gender she chose, or those disturbing times of being neither, Flarik always appeared immaculate. Vas fingered her wild red hair and sighed in envy.
She waited until Flarik took her seat with a slight ruffle of her perfect white feathers. The feathers were very short, but perfect, whatever color they were at that moment. Along with switching genders, Wavians could change their coloring at a whim.
“What did you need to see me for, Captain?” Flarik folded her delicate, clawed hands neatly in her lap. She looked prim and proper until she went into action with those claws. Vas would have hired her regardless of her legal skills based on the claws alone.
“Sorry for dragging you out. But there’s been an explosion.” Vas called up the images from outside the ship on her screen. She quickly played the explosion and resulting fireball. “That was Skrankle, the bastard who’s responsible for us being on this ship.”
Flarik nodded as Vas spoke. “You mean the fine individual who gave us this ship as recompense for the accidental dismemberment of our own? He did give you the papers, yes?”
Vas laughed softly. “I forced him to give them to me, but yes, he gave me the papers. This is ours.”
“Excellent,” Flarik said. “I will explain this to the officers when they arrive. I’m sure they will not wish to detain us.” She flashed a grin, but unlike Deven’s it didn’t comfort. Even after all these years Vas still wasn’t used to those teeth. Three rows of razor sharp, albeit very tiny, teeth. She didn’t want to think about the rumors that went around about those teeth before the Wavians joined the Commonwealth.
“It’s a good thing that we were still in port when this happened. It might have appeared as if you were leaving the scene of a crime.” Flarik rose and turned toward the door. “Good day, Captain.”
“Actually, us still being here is something else I wanted to discuss. How long will you be sleeping this time?”
Flarik clicked her teeth in thought, literally reading her body. “I’d say through the arrival at our next battle. It is in six days, yes?” At Vas’s nod she continued. “Yes, I would say I should wake right when we get there.” She cocked her head. Her golden eyes focused sharply, giving the unhealthy impression of staring down prey. “Why?”
“There have been too many unhealthy things happening lately. I need someone to see what the pattern is. I’d like to have Gosta start looking into it. He can hand off anything he finds once you wake.” A surge of embarrassment snuck in, but she pushed it aside. Vas had always dealt with her personal problems on her own, asking others was a new and uncomfortable situation. Delegating was needed for her line of work—she didn’t like it in her personal business.
Flarik gave a tight nod. “That will be acceptable.”
Vas waited a few minutes after Flarik left then went back on the bridge.
“Gosta, can you come here?” Vas motioned for him to come over to a small console near the command chair. “We need to find our ship, our real ship. I pulled up the idents before I left Skrankle’s, but I couldn’t get a clear fix. I need you to find at least the star systems where the Victorious Dead’s parts went.” She frowned. “Skrankle might be gone, but the damage he did continues. Can you locate the parts?”
“I think so,” Gosta said as he fiddled with the computer. When he didn’t find anything immediately, Vas went to her own console and fussed with pulling up system records for Lantaria.
“Captain? You may wish to see this.” Gosta beamed, a few minutes later. “A few bits of ship you might want to see again.” He tapped a few green spots on the crowded screen. “It looks like Skrankle parted the ship out quickly once you didn’t show. Or he did it right after you dropped it off. Regardless, those parts took a fast trip to the outer rim. But most of them aren’t incorporated into any ships yet.”
She studied the screen; once he pointed them out she saw where the parts were. “So, fourteen? He split her up into fourteen parts?” Not too bad. The main part to find would be the core. That held the brain of the Victorious Dead. “You said they weren’t all incorporated. Which parts? Are they in a nearby ship?” The idea of raiding a ship stupid enough to take illegally removed parts sounded lovely. Especially after the way things had been going lately.
Gosta practically rubbed his hands with glee. “That, my dear Captain, is the best part of all.” He pulled the screen toward him and fiddled with adjustments. “See here? This is the Warrior Wench, as we sit in dock waiting to leave.” He tapped the center. “And this is the core of the Victorious Dead.”
Vas poked at the screen. That idiot Skrankle had put a warship’s core in a pleasure cruiser? “Are you certain? Is it damaged?”
“Yes, I’m certain. And it’s not damaged. Skrankle put a block on it so the Warrior Wench would work without tapping into the Victorious Dead’s memory portion of the core, but she’s there. He didn’t clean her. He simply overlaid the block.”
She allowed herself her first real smile that day. The most important part of her beloved ship was with her; she only needed to dig it out. The rest of it would have to be gathered, on principle if nothing else.
Finally she shook herself. No reason getting too happy. Things were still far from normal. “Can you check to see if the Warrior Wench’s core had been dam
aged?”
The grin faded from his face. “Already thought of that, Captain. No damage. The Warrior Wench is only a few years old, her core still factory perfect and I hate to say it, more advanced than the Victorious Dead.”
She swore. “So why did Skrankle gut my ship to add its core into this one? We’re missing something.”
“We may never know now that Skrankle’s gone.”
Flarik broke up the introspection as she came on deck. “The officers completely understand our loss, and hope that we continue to enjoy this ship as the last gift of our gallant supporter, Skrankle.”
Vas continued to be amazed at Flarik’s ability to keep a straight face in any circumstance.
“If you no longer need me, I will resume my sleep preparations.” More statement than request, but Flarik did wait until Vas had acknowledged her with a nod before turning and marching down the hall.
“Why do I always feel like I’ve been chastised when she does that?” Deven spoke from behind her.
“Because you are being chastised,” Vas said. “We all are. I’m grateful she’s on our side. Now, Gosta—”
“Now, Captain,” Terel cut her off as she came into the bridge. “I’ve been calling you for the last ten minutes. We have to get another shot into you. And I want to do more tests on that poison.”
Vas started to argue but Terel wouldn’t let her. “If you’d prefer we can stop the treatments and see if what’s left of that stuff in your system can find a way to kill you.” The look on Terel’s face said there were two options: her way or her way.
“So be it.” Vas raised her hands. “I’ll go let you shoot me with that archaic torture device. Let’s get this over with.”
****
Deven waited until Vas and Terel were gone before turning toward the rest of the room. “Mac, prepare to move out. Gosta, you have the bridge.” He turned toward his own small ready room. There were too many things that he needed to sort out.
One of the most disturbing items concerned his recent reaction to Vas. The last two days he felt an odd tingle in his telepathic senses whenever she stood close. Like he would when near a lover. However, while he and Vas were close, they’d never gone past a solid friendship. Not that he would say no—his captain was a stunning woman. However, she made it clear from the first time they’d met that she would never be involved with a telepath. So why was he thinking about it now?
Asarlai Wars 1: Warrior Wench Page 6