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Vas was a simple sort of mercenary. All she wanted in life was her ship, her crew, and a good fight.
“What the hell are you trying to pull? That’s the Warrior Wench. I can’t be seen taking my people for mercenary jobs in a brothel cruiser. Get me another ship.”
Vas believed there were always a finite number of problems in any situation. The name of the game was to find them all before they became fatal.
Vas knew the futility of fighting with Deven about staying in bed; he stayed in bed when he had a good reason. Being injured didn’t happen to be one of those reasons.
they could have been rich, if they would stop spending money on get-rich-quick schemes.
“Keep recording. We need to send the data to the Commonwealth.” She’d also be contacting the holder of this contract. Or she would have had if they’d most likely not just been blown apart with their planet.
“How did I end up with this crew? I mean really?” Vas asked the corridor in general. “You picked us,” Terel said.
Personally, I would be concerned about unknown ships attacking a Commonwealth planet if I were in charge of the Commonwealth. Apparently, the council has their own agenda.”
“If you didn’t have such a stubborn jaw, I wouldn’t have hurt myself punching it.”
“Bring it on, boys!” The drinking hadn’t been what she needed; it was this. Too much weird shit going on and not enough things to beat the crap out of.
Vas nodded and led the way out. Who needed therapy when there were bar fights?
“Captain Tor Dain, this is in response to your recent message about the events on Lantaria. Rest assured the Commonwealth is aware of the situation and has it under control. You are encouraged to forget about the last engagement and go about your business. Thank you for your concern.”
Sounds like a copy-paste Tech Support message.
Inventing things was his hobby, and about half of the gadgets even worked. Just not always as intended.
He carefully soothed her entire back and then started in on her neck, deftly separating the muscles and relaxing them one by one. Why the hell was this man a merc? He could make fifty times what he made in a year doing just this, even more, if he added sex.
After a few moments, he flipped her beneath him, his eyes searching for something as his mind kissed hers. Their minds merged into one in an even more passionate reaction than the one taking place between their bodies. The climax was so intense that Vas screamed once and then lost consciousness in a comforting world of gray fog.
Them telepaths have quite some ways...
Vas
“There are too many players involved.” He held up a fist, flinging up his fingers as he counted. “Whoever took the ship. Skrankle. Whoever poisoned you. The owners of that fake pub on the space station. Whoever slammed into you.” Vas thought he gave her an odd look at that, but he went on quickly, adding his other hand. “Plus, the ambush at Lantaria, the bodies, the Starchaser parts, the ore ship, Marli, Graylian monks, and Rillianian idiots.”
She hated when people lied to her about what she was smuggling. It was simple: she ran a clean ship, and she had an almost 100% success rate in terms of getting cargo safely intact to its destination without the Commonwealth being the wiser. All she asked for were a few simple things. No people, no live animals, no drugs, and no explosives or arcane Asarlaí-based archeology. And no damn lying.
“What are Deven’s skills? Being a pain in my ass?” Terel scowled. “No. His two strongest areas are sex and fighting. It’s odd that he has two. Most espers only have one. But both are particularly strong. If he got exposed to that dust and starts projecting, we’re going to have the galaxy’s largest orgy followed by the galaxy’s fastest mass slaughter.”
At first she just thought they were horrific fighters, and then she realized they were poisoning themselves with some sort of capsule embedded inside their cheek, as they were overwhelmed. She recognized the distinctive bite, grimace, and crumble to the ground maneuver from other campaigns.
Future problems require 1945's solutions.
