Free Asarlai Wars 1: Warrior Wench by Marie Andreas Page A

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