Asarlai Wars 1: Warrior Wench (3 page)

Loud gambling halls, with daylight-mimicking lights, were another reason for her dislike of this world. Tarantus IV had even less to offer for survival than her own unlamented home world. But thanks to an ingenious miner six hundred years ago, it had gambling—lots of gambling—the types of gambling that were illegal everywhere else.

She hated gambling. Her money was earned at the cost of lives. The idea of wasting that money didn’t set right with her.

The cool night air smelled fresh and clean once she got away from the landing pad. That is, until she approached the mass of giant buildings known as Liltikin. Not really a city in the proper sense, Liltikin was a collection of massive casinos that cooperated for mutual benefit. Each one was a kingdom unto itself with its own unique style and odor. Moreover, all of those smells hit her about a hundred yards out from the first behemoth.

Stepping inside the casino, she knew her second-in-command wouldn’t be in there. He had a level of class that warred with his chosen lifestyle. The flashy pink signs, horrific pink carpeting, and pink–colored air didn’t even come close to Deven’s requirements. She wasted a few seconds wondering just how or why someone would color air. Shaking her head, she fled for the next casino.

The second den of ill-lost funds appeared promising. The open entry was wide enough for a small shuttle to dock, and provided a view of the elegant interior. Light golds and sea blues dominated the color palette, with a few dark wood accents on the ceiling and far walls. Carefully draped fabrics from thousands of worlds flowed from the five-story-high ceiling to be gathered against the walls creating a space both intimate and generous at the same time. The gambling tables were all carved out of pure rare stones. The five-card ta-long table immediately before her was once a single block of rare Elierian jade. The fast-paced calir game table gleamed an ebony that could only have come from a single lump of Wavian coal, a substance so protected that a single ounce could buy a fleet of ships. The entire decor invited those of delicate sensibilities to come in and donate their money.

She definitely didn’t fit in.

For the first time she realized she still had on the clothes she’d worn yesterday. And her duster carried more than enough proof of its name. She couldn’t remember when she last braided her hair; but the telltale red wisps near her waist told her it had been a while. The sneer on the face of the casino host told her the same thing. She glared back. Robots should never be programmed with facial expressions.

She held up one hand instead of reaching for her blaster, as she wanted to. “I don’t want any trouble and I’m not staying.”

The skinny droid rocked back on his metallic heels.

When the droid didn’t say anything, she continued, but kept her voice low. “You don’t want me here; I don’t want to be here. I’m trying to find my second-in-command. The sooner you help me find him, the sooner I can stop leaving dust on your floor, got it?”

A faint humming emanated from the yellow man-shaped machine, and it nodded. “Agreed. Who is it you are searching for? What does he look like?”

She did a quick surveillance around the gambling floor even though she knew Deven wouldn’t be there. His gambling usually took place in private rooms. As a rule telepaths, or espers as they were commonly called, didn’t like crowded spaces. Deven might be different from most espers, but he had reasons for gambling alone.

“He’s about 6’2”, a bit taller than me, pale gold skin, likes to show lots of it, and has tar-black hair hitting past his shoulders unless he hacked it off again. He’d probably be in your tao-go room or a private suite.” She’d give the thing Deven’s name, except that he never used it on casino planets.

The droid cocked its head, another annoying mannerism, and then froze. An instant later it turned in her direction. “I believe I have found your friend. He is indeed in a private suite.” The droid’s eyes gave pale reflections of the images he scanned. Most likely tapped into the security cameras. “You did not say he was an esper.”

She frowned when an image of Deven entering a suite appeared on the droid’s eye-screens and focused in on the two linked metal bracelets on Deven’s right wrist. No esper above a level one could travel without them. The laws may have given them equal rights eighty years ago, but that didn’t mean people felt safe around them. Which was one reason that Deven usually wore a heavy inlaid bracelet over the telepath-blocking metal bands.

“I don’t think that’s a concern. He’s not breaking any laws; you obviously have seen the bracelets.” She folded her arms and glared at the droid. Not really at the droid, more at the small army of security most likely watching her every move through the droid. “Tell me,
droid
, is there a problem here?”

“Not a problem. However, he will leave with you, yes?” The droid turned on a metal heel and quickly strode toward the depths of the casino where the private rooms were.

Vas jogged to keep up with it.

The droid’s sharp rap on the door lead to muffled swearing in two different languages. Which told her two things: they’d found Deven, and he wasn’t gambling for money.

Her second-in-command had many appetites.

She stepped around the droid and added her own pounding to the door. “Deven, it’s me. Get your ass out here.” She paused, and added, “Clothed. Get your clothed ass out here.” Better to be safe. He preferred stark naked.

An increase in the swearing signaled his acknowledgment of her command. The door swung open and a curvaceous blonde stumbled out of the room, a dazed glow on her face. Obviously, Deven had been the one making the extra cash in this scenario.

Her second-in-command was next through the doorway, looking as fresh as if he’d had time for an hour-long sonic shower before he dressed. Tall and exotic looking, Deven seemed to glow himself as he came out of the room. His standard issue flight suit looking like he’d had it personally tailored to fit his body like a glove. He’d always been good looking, but he seemed different now. She shivered. Maybe absence did make the heart grow fonder. However, it certainly wasn’t going to make her break her rule about getting involved with a member of her crew. Or a telepath.

Deven’s sharp green eyes glinted with mild amusement at whatever he thought was going on in her head. Then he smiled and pulled his hair into a ponytail at his nape.

She hated him for always looking perfect. No matter the situation, Deven stayed calm, clean, and relaxed. Somehow she was sure he did it to piss her off. Maybe that anger could chase off whatever other unhealthy feelings were going on in her head.

“We’ve got a problem, a job, and a missing crew.” She didn’t wait for him to respond before she marched toward the casino floor.

She didn’t hear his steps, but the powerful presence at her side told her he’d caught up.

“You were supposed to be here two weeks ago.”

“Yes.” A two-foot-tall Jerlian in a permanently wrinkled suit, sloshed synth-cohol on her boots as he tried to hug her knees. Had Skrankle not already managed to ruin said boots, she would have seen how far she could kick a Jerlian on a low-grav planet. Instead, she took two steps around him and moved toward the exit.

“You didn’t call.”

“No, I didn’t. My being late has nothing to do with you or our next job. Can we move it, please?” She didn’t want to discuss her recent travels, and certainly not in the middle of a casino. Nothing had happened. She was just late. There just wasn’t a reason to talk about it. She squashed the tiny voice that said she needed to talk about it.

“Vas saying please? Now I know something is wrong.” Deven pulled up short before the casino exit.

It would take a week to get off this rock if her entire crew decided to be this chatty about her private issues. “I don’t ask what you’re doing,” she said and held up a hand. “I don’t want to know. I’m not going to tell you what I was doing. We have a job and we have a ship. Do you want to earn some money on your feet for once or not?”

“Ouch, got me.” The smile he flashed caused two nearby women to swoon as Vas and Deven left the casino.

“Turn it down, damn it,” she hissed with a glance down at his bracelets. There were times he pulled a glamour that had to be esper powered, bracelets or no. He didn’t need it; he was freakishly good looking enough on his own. “I can’t have you jailed at this point.

“Do you have any idea where—” She stopped mid-sentence as Deven suddenly turned toward a dark alley. With night vision far better than hers, she let him take the lead. He hadn’t gone for any of the dozen or so weapons she knew he had on him, so she relaxed, the tension fleeing down her arms.

Deven moved toward the entrance of the alley.

“That’s sad. I didn’t think he came back here.” His voice dropped while he flicked on a glow rod.

Vas followed him in. The alley lived up to expectations: dingy, nasty, and smelling worse than a week-old dead Ilerian. She stayed at his side as Deven approached the tall man who sat in the wide beam of light from the glow rod, muttering to himself. Odd, but not as odd as his seat. He’d created a throne out of what had to be biscuits stolen from the nearby casinos and restaurants.

Only Deven would be friends with someone who used baked goods as furniture. Vas kept her hands loose and waited to see how this would play out. The pathetic being before her didn’t look dangerous, but fatal mistakes often came from underestimations. Dozens of people had died at her hand for that very reason before her reputation caught up with her.

“Who approaches? Who dares to interrupt Jeof, the God of Biscuits?” His slurred voice gave evidence to the alcoholic assistance he’d had getting to his current state. The way he leaned dangerously to the left reinforced that assessment.

“I’m surprised this is the first time I’ve seen him, he’s usually in one of the main thoroughfares.” Deven lifted his right wrist to her face. “I can help him if you help me?”

“No. You can’t keep taking those things off when you feel like it. Do you want to end up in jail again? Cause you’ll be alone this time, bucko. I’ll tell them you overpowered me and made me take them off. Within city limits. Which is illegal.” Vas hated Deven’s charitable streak. It was going to be the death of him one of these days. Or her.

“Point one, you didn’t get me out of jail on Pallite, I got you out,” Deven said. “Point two, you never quibble about laws when it’s for your benefit. Point three, this guy used to be royalty. Maybe if you help him now he’ll repay you with unimagined riches.”

She glanced at the loony behind Deven. Former royalty or not, he wasn’t the man he used to be. His hair seemed to be shaved down the middle and the remaining chunks stuck up like braided rat-tails. His clothing consisted of a collection of fabrics and posters stolen from various casinos. She wasn’t sure how it stayed on him and didn’t care just as long as it did. “I’m not going to address the other two issues. But if he’s royalty I’ll eat one of those biscuits.”

Deven laughed. “Which will be a fine sight I’m sure.”

She sighed and reached for his wrist. “I’ll code it off. But do it quickly. I have no idea how tight their sensors are, and I
will
turn you in if they get triggered.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything as she coded the bracelet off with a few keystrokes on the thin command bar. The metal itself started out as an inert gas, but settled into a metal outer skin once coded properly. The gas inside the metal shorted out all esper skills.

Honestly, she had no idea what esper level Deven was. However, the highest of them, the tens, were all insane, so she knew he couldn’t be one of them. His goal was to drive her crazy, not go for a trip himself. The bracelets were coded to one person with the ability to deactivate them for specific purposes. The code consisted of not only the right keying in, but also the touch of her skin. And her skin had to be warm. She made a point of regularly reminding Deven that he’d best work on keeping her alive unless he wanted to be trapped in those things forever.

He rubbed his wrist after she removed the bracelets and tucked them into her pocket. He seemed the same to her, but she knew any sensors would pick up his telepathic abilities in minutes. That was the major reason why she made it a policy to never take jobs on gambling planets. Too many damn sensors.

Deven slowly approached the self-proclaimed God of Biscuits. His voice dropped to a tone one would use with a scared infant and he seemed to shrink in height. The tall, skeletal man before him peered at him with squinted eyes as he approached.

“Hello, Jeof. How are you tonight? Do you remember me? We talked a few months ago.”

Jeof frowned and pulled at one of the disintegrating baked goods. “It’s God of Biscuits; Jeof, God of Biscuits.” A pouty undertone filled his voice now, but the influence of clearvac alcohol lingered. No doubt he’d stepped out on his drinking bender a few days ago.

“It’s okay, Jeof, God of Biscuits. I’m a follower.”

Vas felt the tendrils of Deven’s mental influence flow over Jeof. A faint low-level tickle floated in the back of her mind as if she’d forgotten something and it was just out of reach. Deven’s influence hit its target as true as any blaster. Within a few seconds, Jeof’s face took on a look of mild confusion as Deven’s mind encouraged him to rest.

“But I need to speak to my people today. They told me to come here, give away the biscuits…there was someone I had to give a biscuit to….” Jeof’s voice trailed off as he plucked another molding biscuit from his throne. Vas’s stomach turned when she thought he was going to put the nasty thing in his mouth. Instead he turned his watery eyes toward her and shoved it into her hand. It happened so quickly she held it for a second before dropping it to the ground. With a shudder, she wiped her hands on her duster and took a judicious step backwards.