TITLE: Warrior Wench
GENRE: SF (Light)
“Where the hell is my ship, Skrankle?” Captain Vaslisha Tor Dain slammed the Ilerian salvage dealer against the crumbling wall and leaned hard on his neck. Swearing, she stepped sideways to avoid the putrid slime he oozed in self-defense. If he ruined her second favorite boots, she was going to do more than choke him. His round face turned deep purple, but that wasn’t too far from its normal reddish color. Although the dark blue patches weren’t probably good for him.
More orange slime dripped down the wall. Skrankle’s left front tentacle twitched out and tried pulling her hand away from around his fat neck. When that failed, he coughed, then spoke, “I told you, um, Captain, that the Victorious Dead is in slip five. Been there all month.”
Vas tightened the pressure on his throat until he turned yellow, then released him and let him collapse. “There is nothing in slip five, Skrankle- NOTHING. The Victorious Dead is missing. You were supposed to fix her. Not lose her!”
The Ilerian gathered himself and slithered to his desk. With a heavy sigh and very nasty sucking sound, he slurped into his chair. The rustle of bureaucratic skill that he demonstrated in calling up his vid-screen indicated he’d recover from her stranglehold. Unfortunately.
“Well, Captain, as you see,” he said while he frantically typed in a few more commands, “the Victorious Dead docked here twenty-nine days ago. Scheduled for decommission ten days ago…” His voice trailed off when his eyes read what shouldn’t be there.