

IceFlight

Book One of the Iron Altar Trilogy

Casey Lea

© Casey Lea 2012

The authors assert the moral right to be identified as the authors of this book.

ISBN - 978-0-9922632-5-6

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors' imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photo-copying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

To Grandma,

Who always provided the encouragement to keep writing.

With love and thanks to Gary, Mike, Taryn and Miffy.

Thank you also to Lesley, for your invaluable expertise, Carolyn Jewel for your oh-so-accurate prologue prejudice and Michelle for that first, constructive criticism.

Love Struck

A Casey Lea Novella

For another gut-wrenching adventure, click here for a free copy of our latest release.

Haze is a man on a mission. It was never his plan to be a gladiator, but plans change. When Harvesters steal his wife he tracks them down. It takes a year, all the money he has and most of his soul, but Silk is worth it. When he finds her she's a slave, fighting for her life in the worst arena in space. His search is over, but his problems are just beginning.

Haze has to face gigantic killers hardened by battle, feral beasts trained to stalk gladiators, weaponized weather and the most dangerous enemy of all \- his wife.

Silk is a deadly fighter, so it's too bad she doesn't remember him...

Memory stripped and struggling to survive she has no interest in Haze. The idiot claiming to be her husband is just another target. One more body standing between her and freedom, but not for long. She'll take down anything and anyone she has to.

Can Haze live long enough to win Silk's love? Unlikely. It's the end of the season and this is the last fight. They're about to enter the Carnival of Death, which leaves only a single survivor. Today one of them will die...

One Love. One Arena. One Day.
1

Taken

On her second mission past Jupiter, Science Officer Darsey Ice was abducted by aliens. She never saw it coming, although she was the first to see them arrive.

They showed on her screen as colors, replacing the black void of space ahead of her tiny craft. She started, then leaned forward and there was a moment of stillness, with her mind as blank as the void had been. What she was staring at unblinking was impossible. A rainbow vortex spun in front of her, growing with each turn to fill the monitor.

A hand fell on Darsey's shoulder and she jumped, until it gave a warm, familiar squeeze. "What the hell is that?" Will murmured in her ear and she finally moved to relay her image to the main monitors. Red, gold and violet shot from every screen on the Victor's bridge, drawing a low whistle from Will.

Darsey looked up to offer him what she hoped was a steady smile and the ship's engineer grinned back, before raising his eyebrows in amazement.

"You ever seen shit like that, Cap?" he drawled over his shoulder and Darsey turned further to check her Captain's reply. The Victor's leader was on the lip of his seat, glaring at the strange rainbow ahead. His face was statue still, apart from the scar that caught his upper lip in a permanent sneer. The disgusted look suited Hito, who tended to take anything unexpected as a personal insult.

Darsey's smile became more natural and she swivelled back to her own screen. The Captain used to terrify her, but Will's easy banter had made it clear that Hitoshi Moriwaki was actually a teddy bear. At least with his crew. She relaxed further and swiped her fingers across her screen to bring up a range of spectraI scans, but before she could learn more the impossible vortex began to spin faster. It gathered momentum and within seconds became a brilliant cone with a dark centre.

Darsey could only stare and even Will had nothing to say. All five of the Victor's crew sat silent and transfixed. Lightning streaked the surface of the vortex as it turned with increasing speed and colors streamed toward their ship from a giant whirlpool hanging in space. Darsey swallowed hard, before managing to look from the funnel confronting them to the four men who shared her small, steel world.

"Science Officer Ice," her Captain growled, "what readings can you get from that?"

Darsey gulped again, but managed to turn back to her view screen. Her motion seemed to cue another change in the image before them. The darkness at the centre of the glowing circle began to grow. It distended at the upper edge to become an arrow, and then a wedge. The new silhouette lengthened and then abruptly broke free, leaping forward into the swirling tunnel to grow with startling speed. A dark diamond, sharply flared along each edge, broke into the solar system. Darsey realized what it was at the same time as the ship's engineer.

"Damn," Will gasped, with his usual disregard for protocol. "It's a ship."

"What do you mean a ship?" the Captain demanded sharply.

"An alien ship," Darsey agreed, and was surprised by the steadiness of her voice. "I'm analysing as fast as I can, but I think we should redeploy the sail. Full spread."

"Indeed," the Captain agreed grimly. "Deploy the sail, Pilot."

"Solar sail deploying, sir," Jeetan answered laconically, but his actions were quick and precise.

Darsey licked dry lips, while continuing to throw scan results at the main screen.

"Remind me why we colonists were so keen to get out here," Will murmured behind her. "In a damn jerry-rigged sardine can, at that."

"For the fun of doing this first," Darsey answered, and this time her voice did tremble.

Will squeezed her shoulder again and leaned forward with a grin, his teeth flashing against dark skin. Darsey had a sudden irrational urge to kiss him, as if it might be her last chance, but instantly crushed the idea. This was no time for emotion. She looked back to her monitor, but was jerked from her work by the rattle of a hatch opening beside her. Had they been boarded? By... something?

Darsey crouched frozen in her seat, her eyes so wide she could hardly focus. A figure stood over her. It wore a bulbous white suit, hard and gleaming, with a curved helmet that reflected her face. She saw her mouth gaping even wider than her eyes and then thought returned. She was looking at a spacesuit. Her own spacesuit. It must have been ejected from storage by emergency release.

"Party clothes, people," the Captain ordered, and Darsey concentrated on levering herself from her seat and into the rigid shell that stood over her. She slipped into that bright, white armour and it clicked shut, sealing around her.

Darsey shuffled forward to free herself from the extended arms of the suit's delivery cradle, grabbing the padding for her helmet as she went. She pulled that soft inner layer on brusquely, calmed by the routine actions, although the clinging fabric was always hard to position. The bulky protection for her head and face, which included computer interfaces, made it thick and unwieldy. However, the struggle was a familiar one and her heart had slowed to its normal rate by the time she finished.

A glance around the bridge calmed Darsey even more. Everyone was in their suit and Dr. Trilligar was already wearing his helmet. Trust Trill to do a rabbit and be the quickest dressed. He took good care of all the crew's health, but always looked after himself first.

Darsey reached for her own helmet and glanced back at the video feed. Abruptly her pulse became glacial. She felt as if she had truly frozen. She stood completely still with her helmet clutched to her chest.

The alien ship had closed on them and it filled her screen. It was an enormous vessel, far bigger than anything mankind had ever sent into space. Dark specks appeared around it as aliens swarmed from the strange craft. They were abruptly lit by the white glare of an energy discharge. Two lines of light shot past the Victor, one on either side. Darsey blinked, but that was the only movement she could make. On her screen the attackers accelerated hard and their front ranks leapt into focus. It was clear they were humanoid, because they hurtled through the void without spacesuits of any kind. Somebody behind Darsey swore and then something hit them. Their small craft shuddered as it was tossed backwards through the dark.

Darsey was thrown from her feet. She was briefly weightless, before momentum slammed her into the shuddering floor. She skidded over it and her magnetic boots scrabbled for grip. She tumbled the length of the bridge to collide with the far wall and lay there stunned, while cracks appeared in the metal behind her.

Will pushed off to join her and tugged at her helmet with one hand, ignoring his own, but she was too frozen to help. He yelled at her over the rush of escaping air, his face pressed close to hers, but she still couldn't move. He tried to pry her fingers from her helmet, but she clung to it grimly.

Darsey forced herself to shape a single word that was impossible to hear over the wind. "You." Her eyes moved between his bare head and his helmet, still dangling from his other hand. However he released it and it spun away in another blast that made the ship buckle.

Darsey's eyes followed it vaguely. What was Will thinking? He needed his helmet, needed to put it on now, but he grabbed for hers instead. He managed to pull it away from her using both hands, but she watched in confusion when he raised it over her head and tried to push it into place. Too late.

Before Darsey could convince him to save himself her air was gone. She drew a desperate breath, but instead of filling her lungs they were sucked empty. Will's hands flew to his throat and his cheeks seemed to collapse, even as his eyes bulged and his mouth opened in a silent scream.

Horror sliced through Darsey's brain, freezing all thought and darkness tried to follow.The vacuum reached for her too, but before her blood could boil a shadow fell over her. She cowered away from that darkness, but the shade grew, stretching across the crumpled floor and then further still, up the far wall. She turned her head awkwardly in its padding to stare up at a hulking silhouette. This time, something had come for her.

2

Meet and Greet

Darsey Ice dangled helplessly, head down and eyes shut, lost to the world. Her mind floated all alone, serene and still with no link to its distant flesh. She was dimly relieved at such unexpected sanctuary, but, despite that, an innate stubbornness forced her to struggle for consciousness. The slow return to her body began with pain. Pain that drove through the darkness like headlights. Darsey moaned and something laughed in response. The laugh sounded achingly human, but Darsey knew it was not. She knew with soul deep certainty that the rest of her crew were dead.

She shuddered, helping her mind and body rediscover each other. That link strengthened, with an awareness of light and the grasp of impossibly huge hands. Alien hands that were hooked like claws in her armpits. She realized she was moving, the toes of her boots scuffing helplessly as she was dragged face down, along a smooth surface. Still blind and limp, she felt nausea rise, along with her last memory of Will. His face had looked so strange wearing a scream instead of a ready smile. Voices intruded on her private agony. Voices that seemed to speak English before breaking into rough laughter.

Insane, she thought sadly. Will would have loved it. Aliens using our language, aliens with a sense of humor, oh yeah.

She blinked hard, struggling against tears, and her eyes started to clear. She made an effort to focus, but failed. It didn't matter. Darsey was far distant from her surroundings. She was locked in the past, reliving her ship's last minutes. Her memories returned with gut-wrenching force and she let them take her, until they finally led her back to the vortex and the ship that first appeared as a diamond in the dark.

Darsey quivered with the realisation that she must be aboard that alien ship. One of her captors shifted a huge hand from the armpit of her suit to her wrist and his companion did the same on the other side, so that they could keep pulling her along in tandem. She was vaguely aware of a dirty lavender blur on either side that was matched by a stained cream floor passing far too close to her face. She realized she was being dragged along a corridor. That knowledge reoriented her, but, just as she had started to build a picture of where she was, her surroundings changed.

The creatures holding her tensed and their grip tightened, crushing the shoulders of her suit. Darsey winced at the pain, but it brought her closer to her surroundings. She felt the bunching of massive arms and then a surge when her captors leapt forward.

They dragged her into an open space and the three of them were suddenly falling.

Darsey cried out when her stomach dipped and knotted. It took all of her remaining courage to stay calm enough not to throw up. She belatedly realized that she wasn't falling, even though the floor had disappeared. The sensation that twisted her insides was familiar.

I'm floating, she realized. I'm weightless again.

The dim lighting of the alien craft was unchanged, but their surroundings were now black. Darsey was being wafted along the middle of a tunnel. It extended into darkness ahead and she could see doors opening on every side, including the curves that should have been the ceiling and floor. One guard raised a solid forearm, with a wrist as large as Darsey's thigh. That wrist was circled by a flat bracelet of plain gray. The strange jewellery fired a pulse that Darsey felt against her skin, even through her space suit padding, and all three of them accelerated. Her captor's wristband fired repeatedly and their speed increased with each thrust, until Darsey's eyes were streaming in the wind of their passage.

Bright ovals shot past and were lost before she could see where they led. A tiny patch of Darsey's skin was exposed to the rushing air, where the padding and interfaces for her spacesuit finished, leaving only her eyes free. She was thankful for the suit covering the rest of her body and grateful that her lack of a helmet had caused her no more than discomfort.

Not like Will, she thought, caught by memory again.

A pulse stronger than the rest startled Darsey from her past. She looked up to see the largest opening yet, directly ahead. Her escorts halted again and, as they slowed, her heart pounded faster. It seemed that the end of their journey was close. They drifted from the tunnel into an open chamber that dwarfed any bridge she had ever seen. The room they entered was a hollow globe large enough to enclose her entire spaceship. However, much of that startling space was empty, dark and abandoned in comparison to its centre, which was crowded. The middle of the hollow was packed with a dizzying array of seats and consoles. They were randomly slotted in, filling the globe's hub and floating at all angles, with no common orientation.

Darsey had to squint against unexpected brightness when the centre of the chamber was suddenly lit by multiple projections. A series of pictures tumbled through the globe, giant images that displayed and exchanged information at bewildering speed. Darsey blinked and narrowed her eyes. The seats that had been vague silhouettes now appeared in surprisingly garish detail, along with their occupants. A silent alien reclined in each gaudy chair. They all looked surprisingly human, but were dwarfed by the holograms around them. Shifting patterns towered over Darsey as she was propelled toward the centre of the room. They blazed from the curved consoles attached to each chair and surrounded every crew member.

The guards held Darsey tight and began to thread a path through the randomly seated crew. She struggled against a growing sense of detachment as her capture became surreal. The chamber was as silent as a giant tank in some strange aquarium. The aliens around her seemed to be swimming through holograms and she shivered in her suit. What kind of creatures were they? Not a single blank face turned her way.

Darsey was almost too numb to feel her body shake, as she was towed into an empty space at the heart of the globe. It held a single, huge chair, without holograms or an occupant. She stared blankly at a monstrosity of gold, pink, purple and yellow that floated in majestic solitude. The enormous seat should have been terrifying, but she almost laughed. Designed by Liberace she thought and her lips twitched, but her amusement leached away, because Will would have found it hilarious.

Another pulse changed their direction again and Darsey was steered in among the last of the crew on the far side of the central chair. She flinched when a piece of braid hanging from the bottom of a seat brushed her face. She swallowed a nervous laugh and looked up to see an alien seated above her, a woman so close they could almost touch. Darsey stared at the stranger as they wafted past and willed the woman to look at her. To acknowledge her at all, but there was no response.

Didn't these people have any curiosity? Or were new species so common they were boring? Surely that wasn't possible. Darsey was so distracted by the thought of a Universe teeming with sentient life that she scarcely noticed the remaining aliens. She was unaware of passing the last seat, until her captors paused and she was jerked to a halt in front of a massive, curving wall.

The far side of the hollow globe. She floated between her guards like a kitten held by lions. One tapped his gray bracelet and it projected a beam of light at a huge, metal door in the wall above their heads. It seemed they were knocking at the captain's lair.

Darsey swallowed and another possibility occurred to her. Perhaps the aliens had ignored her because of their boss. Perhaps if they ever stopped working, even for a second, they'd be punished.

A blast of white light from the monstrous door overhead made her flinch and a final surge sent her flying into a solid slab of metal. Darsey cried out as she was thrown headfirst at the door above. She closed her eyes just before her face slammed into it and felt... nothing.

Huh? Could death possibly be that quick? She opened an eye in time to see the apparently solid metal surface sliding past. It fell away as she passed through it, to leave her staring at a room that seemed to be on its side. The floor was at right angles to the door and rose in front of her like a wall.

Darsey had no idea how to stand on it and pushed back against her captors, who dragged her with them anyway. Gravity abruptly reclaimed them and Darsey's head spun, followed by her stomach when she stepped down onto the wall. She staggered, but managed to right herself as her mind adjusted to new directions. She was finally standing on a floor again. The floor of a shiny, tangled alien magpie's nest admittedly, but at least she had her balance back.

Darsey's captors stayed close, while she looked around the circular room in amazement. She gaped helplessly, then checked her surroundings again. A riot of clashing colors and shiny surfaces threw distorted reflections of the room back at her, making her dizzy. A lime green ceiling swathed in banners of gold, purple, brown and pink ended awkwardly against black and white walls. Each zebra stripe was studded with tiny disks that reflected a rainbow array of colors and with larger strips of... tinfoil? Darsey's vertigo returned and she ducked her head to stare at the floor, which was covered by a scarlet rug that threatened to tangle her boots.

One of Darsey's guards grunted nervously and she looked up in alarm. It was her first chance to study the pair and they were even less appealing than the room. She was tall, but her two captors dwarfed her in every way. They were built on a different scale, from their bulging noses and jaws, to long, thick arms and stubby legs. One bristled with hair, while the other was bald. The furry individual had a thatch of silver on his head and over much of his body, while his companion's bare skin was broken only by ridges of cartilage or bone. Both were clothed in layers of tasselled cloth that fell from heavy shoulders to leave their arms bare.

Darsey's escorts stared straight ahead and showed no further interest in her. Her open scrutiny was unmatched by any curiosity of their own. The strangeness of the ship and its riotous décor was nothing compared to its crew's inhuman reaction to a new species. Darsey's eyes burned with sudden tears, but she managed to hold them back. Her grief was joined by fear and she had to look away from the huge aliens. She studied her boots instead, searching for courage, but could only find a growing determination to do whatever she had to, despite the fear. She raised her head and managed to look from one guard to the other in a deliberately insolent survey. Her heart raced, but her bravado was convincing and this time she got their attention.

"I can't wait to meet the master of this menagerie," Darsey drawled, and stared calmly at the hairy guard.

He frowned in confusion and looked uncertainly at his companion.

"Where's your boss?" she elaborated, and ignored their hulking presence to step confidently forward.

"Wait!" they bellowed together, but Darsey took another stride.

"Hello!" she called ringingly.

She tried to move further into the room, but an oversized foot hooked around her calf. The crazy room spun again as she staggered and fell. She toppled forward and the tangled surface of the rug rushed at her face, then hit her hard. The rigid space suit protected her body, but the padding around her head was less effective and only partially cushioned her cheek. She sprawled across crimson tufts, furious and dazed.

She had to struggle to bring the scarlet haze surrounding her back into focus. It slowly resolved itself into a forest of scratchy strands. They seemed impossibly large so close and Darsey flinched when they flattened in front of her nose. A pair of dark boots stepped into her field of vision. She blinked in surprise at footwear that was noticeably smaller than that of her escorts. Darsey looked up as the boots' owner crouched before her, and weightlessness caught the pit of her stomach again. She cursed the disorienting effect of the gaudy room and concentrated on the newcomer instead.

His striped trousers and slashed, silver jerkin managed to seem muted compared to the clothing of her guards. They also seemed too subdued to belong to the owner of this impossibly garish room. Darsey frowned, shifting her attention to his head and stopped. She had to make an effort not to shake as she studied the most alien features she had yet encountered. The stranger's face was a pale gold. His skin seemed to shimmer, most noticeably over angled cheekbones and the narrow bridge of his nose. Like the prow of a Viking longship she thought vaguely. Flared golden nostrils sat close to that central arch and were narrower than their human equivalent. The differences were subtle, but combined to make the newcomer's features disconcertingly strange.

Her captor's eyes were just as alien and the same fierce gold as a bird of prey's. He stared at Darsey without blinking, but at least he seemed curious. She was relieved to realize that someone in this distorted world was actually interested in her. One of his strange eyes was shadowed by a wave of dark hair that fell forward over his forehead. The rest was held back from his face by a gleaming crest. It looked like a stylised sculpture of the alien ship and trailed silver strands that were woven through his hair.

In contrast, the rest of the stranger's body was surprisingly normal, apart from the golden gleam of his skin and the fact that his neck was framed by the most exotic of all his odd features. Two feathery strands, apparently attached behind each ear, stirred against his collar. Darsey focused on one as it uncoiled from his shoulder. Soft golden bristles stirred along its length when it darted forward. She flinched and the strange frond twitched in response. More of the strands lining it swivelled to face Darsey and it seemed to stare at her. Simultaneously, she shuddered as something cold touched her mind. That intrusive chill scared her more than anything else since her capture.

Darsey had always been a loner, but abruptly realized that she had never been truly alone before. Even on solo shift, far from the sun's warmth, she had always known that she could and would return to her own species. That home was simply a flight away. She looked into this alien's hawk-like eyes and understood that this time there was no easy return. Perhaps no return at all.

She swallowed again, but hid her fear behind the most ferocious glare she could muster. The newcomer looked startled, and then frowned in response. The exchange became a test of wills and neither looked away, despite the noisy approach of another pair of boots. They were large and silver and their owner stamped around Darsey twice. This tour of inspection was accompanied by a tuneless humming that she was vaguely aware of as a nasal background to her glaring competition. The silver boots finally stopped circling Darsey, to settle beside her opponent.

"Well, Nightwing, is it a particular sex?"

That harsh question intruded on their mutual examination and both Darsey and the alien started. He rose smoothly to stand straight and stiff beside the questioner. Darsey cursed her inability to do the same and started to struggle upright in her space suit.

"Leader," her examiner acknowledged crisply and with obvious deference.

He watched Darsey's efforts to rise, but offered no help and she had to lever herself upright from a knee. Her stomach churned, as much with fury as fear and, although she made it to her feet, she refused to look up at her captors, simply because she sensed it was what they expected. It was a small defiance, but it helped her hold fast to her courage.

"The scan shows female," the alien called Nightwing continued dispassionately, "but, as you can judge, sah, the prize has little worth. She's slow, weak and ugly. She won't even repay feeding. I recommend full release along with its ship."

Silver Boots snorted angrily, but there was no disagreement. He was equally unimpressed by Darsey and she had to bite back an indignant response. Only the possibility of being released kept her quiet. She still refused to look up and restricted her glower to the aliens' boots. One of the silver pair tapped in annoyance.

"Telepath? Empath?"

The dark-booted alien shook an amber finger in Darsey's line of sight, in a gesture that obviously meant 'no'.

"Does it speak, Bridge?"

"Yes, Leader."

"Look at me, alien." The order was clearly directed at Darsey, but she ignored it. The silver boots fidgeted impatiently. "Are you sure it has full thought, Nightwing?"

"Ye, sah. She was talking to the mutt before and spoke full well. She has some strange phrases, but she speaks and thinks more clear than most mutt."

"Why don't you look up, female?"

"You didn't say please," Darsey answered clearly.

There was a gasp from the owner of the black boots. Beside Darsey, one of the enormous guards quivered and the other moaned softly. The silver pair of boots was completely still for the first time and the only movement was the faint trembling of her massive escorts. Their terror was contagious and Darsey had to search for her courage again. She found enough to keep herself from shaking and stared stubbornly at the ground. Her ordeal was terminated by an unexpected laugh.

A nasal guffaw of astonishment escaped Silver Boots as a snort, and then he laughed with unrestrained glee. The raucous release bounced crazily from the textured walls and was quickly joined by laughter from the gold-skinned alien. There was a marked pause before rumbling chuckles from the guards added to the merriment. The tension gripping the room eased and Darsey swallowed a sigh of relief.

"Please," the leader gasped. "Please indeed! It's ages since I was docked for bad manners. I'm proud of my courtesy and I'm sure I've shown all that a primitive's due. Yet, she strangely wants more. So... would you look at me, please?"

Darsey immediately looked up and tried to smile pleasantly. Her friendly expression became vacant and fixed as soon as she focused on the male before her. He was smaller than her guards, but still a huge man and clearly related to them. His short hair was silver-blond and his eyes gleamed with the same cold reflection as his boots. His skin was very fair, with a hint of violet across his cheeks, but, despite that, he appeared more human than any alien she had met so far.

Unfortunately, that made him even more terrifying. Darsey could read his features easily enough and they showed such delight in her predicament that she blanched. He unexpectedly bowed, bending low with surprising ease for such a large man, and Darsey wondered what to think of the courtesy, but when he straightened his expression was mocking.

"Welcome aboard the Bandit, my lady," he sneered. "I am Leader Greon and I trust you find us satisfactory. Truly, I can't say such for you. Your primitive technology and bulky body are a waste of passage. I find you disappointing and that will have a bad result... for you."

Greon paused to watch her reaction to his threat, but Darsey managed not to flinch. Looking scared was usually a good way to encourage bullies. At Ieast her face was still hidden by the spacesuit lining and she suddenly understood his comment about her bulky body. The aliens attacking her ship had moved freely through space, without obvious protection, and Greon must have assumed her rigid spacesuit was normal clothing. He probably thought she was just as round as her protective bubble wrap.

Darsey had to set her teeth against an indignant response and held Greon's gaze instead, until his lips puckered in sudden amazement. He bent forward and a hand flashed for her face. She tried to avoid his grip, but he was fast and the suit slowed her. Greon grasped her chin firmly and tilted her head to a painful angle as he stared into her eyes. He raised his left arm and a band of gold around his wrist flashed to momentarily blind her. She was aware of a chill that swept across her iris and then penetrated the pupil, making her gasp. The pain passed and she blinked furiously in an effort to re-focus the bright but blurred colors swimming around her. She glared at the still hazy alien, but he ignored her to study a stream of data projected from the golden bracelet.

"Ye-es," he said consideringly. "The DNA reads true. They are genuinely blue. Strange-as. Actually blue, with no cosmetic mods. You have beautiful eyes, my dear, of a most unique color. Do many of your species have such?"

Darsey trembled and looked dazed as he studied her closely. "It's – it's a mutation. They teased me about i-"

"Drak." Greon released her with a rough push and she staggered awkwardly, tripping again as the rug snagged her boots.

She fell to the scarlet floor, but the aliens ignored her. Greon stamped angrily away and his subordinates gave him plenty of room. "There's no way to recover the cost of this drakking detour now. And no use to snatch more of her kind. The best we can hope is to sell those one-time eyes for some credit. They're the only genetically produced blue eyes in space and should be worth something. I'll bet my Luck on it. Remove them, Nightwing, and dispose of the rest."

"Ye, sah," the wearer of the black boots answered instantly and bent to help Darsey to her feet.

She had to quell a moment of absolute panic and let him pull her upright as she regained control. She wanted to leap at Greon and release all of her fear and anger in attack, but she knew that the suit and his guards made that impossible. She needed to wait for a better chance. She lowered her eyes again and turned obediently after her captor, trying to look submissive while adrenalin shook her.

Nightwing steered Darsey carefully around Greon, toward the opposite side of the cabin, but then stopped her, just short of a small door in the far wall. His fingers tightened in her arm and she almost lashed out anyway. Tension screamed through her temples and she just wanted to do something. Anything.

Nightwing ignored her to bow to Greon. "Leader, I've given thought to your earlier advice."

"Indeed?"

"It's good advice and I've decided to take it."

"Certain-sure. When we dock, you may find a suitable slave."

"I'd rather not wait, sah. We'll have to be out for an age now, just to recover credit from this tour. I wish to buy this alien and gain a slave full quick."

Darsey and Greon both gaped at the suggestion, before Greon's mouth tightened to a single gash.

"She's our only loot from this ex and I want some return. A mermaridian lady or gentik geneticist will pay well for those blue eyes, but she'll be a poor slave without them. I'm not wasting tek to fix her, Senior. She's not worth the credit and I'm out of profit as-is."

"You needn't be, sah."

Greon was suddenly still again and his silver eyes glinted when he glanced at Darsey. She held her breath while the two males faced each other. She wasn't sure what her dark-haired captor was offering, but she prayed that it would save her life. Her heart began to hammer for lack of air and she took a small, gasping breath. It went unnoticed by the two aliens.

Greon tapped his pursed lips and then reluctantly shook his head.

"You're a good Senior, Nightwing. Truly, the best I've had and I'd like to indulge you, but blue eyes are unique. They could be worth multi-credit."

"You're right, Leader, and I appreciate that. I'm willing to cover all loss. I'll trade my full ship's share from this flight."

"Hmmmm. Not enough."

"All right. This trip and the next."

"Make it three full trips signed to me, not the ship, and we deal."

Darsey felt the alien standing close to her, stiffen with anger. "I'd still have to make full repayment to the ship for its loss."

"Truly, truly," Greon agreed airily. "I estimate that will take your total share from another two outs. That's five profitless tours. Are you sure you want such?"

Darsey heard her captor's teeth grind. He glanced at her and she appealed to him with her eyes. She could only hope the plea was as clear as if it was spoken. He turned back to Greon and answered curtly, "Deal."

"Deal," the captain agreed.

They both raised their left arms and Darsey saw that Nightwing wore a bracelet similar to Greon's. They were wider than those on the guards' wrists and gold, rather than gray. The intricate patterns engraved on the strange bands started to glow, then flashed simultaneously and a line of light briefly linked them. Darsey realized that the gesture was an exchange of information, presumably the details of her sale and resolved to try to to steal one of the useful bands. She was distracted from her thoughts by a tap on her shoulder.

Darsey looked up at her new owner, who was slightly taller than her six-foot height. She smiled at him, but he ignored her expression to jerk his head curtly at the door. She felt a surge of anger in response, but didn't hesitate. The small, curved door was close and Darsey headed awkwardly toward it, her boots dragging in the thick crimson pile.

A shimmering screen filled the doorway, but dimmed when she approached it, to reveal a long tunnel exactly like the one she'd been floated along earlier. It could have been the same passage, but there was nothing for Darsey to positively identify.

She reached the oval opening and shuffled through it with undisguised enthusiasm. Her owner followed immediately and she guessed that he was equally relieved to escape from Greon. They tumbled back into weightlessness and, by the time Darsey stabilised herself, the door behind them looked firmly shut.

3

Alien Welcome

Darsey floated down a tunnel in the heart of the strange ship and wondered whether she was dreaming. As nightmares went it was frighteningly good. It might have been helpful to pinch herself, but gripping skin through her space suit was impossible. Great, she'd found a design flaw. A strange giggle started to rise in her gut, but a voice from behind her strangled it.

"Are you well?" Nightwing asked and Darsey twisted to face him with a yelp. He was floating just behind her and looked disturbingly solid. "Do you require calming?"

Was this guy for real? "Do you always start your dates with that one?"

They eyeballed each other again and for a moment Darsey thought they were going to slip back into a staring competition, but Nightwing's cold, gold eyes narrowed before he looked away.

"Our dates usually begin with the day of the week. Day one, 273, or ten, 54. The year depends whose territory you're in."

Darsey felt her face crumple and made an effort to smooth it. "What... what's the date? Here. Today."

For the fist time she saw what might have been sympathy in the alien's eyes. "It's day 201, 2340 Rim and the time is 4:78."

Oh, God. None of that made sense. But then nothing had made any sense since she saw that damned anomaly in space. "Sh-should have ignored it," Darsey whispered. "Looked the other way." She was shaking, but it seemed impossible to stop. Dammit. She had to get if under control. Looking vulnerable, especially in front of aliens, wasn't her style. She looked back down the tunnel and found inspiration in the small, shimmering door behind them.

"Must be fun to work for," Darsey ventured, with a nod toward Greon's quarters, and her companion laughed, naturally and without restraint.

The unexpected response shocked her after his previous dourness and she regarded him uncertainly. His expression eased to a reassuring smile, which Darsey managed to return.

"Greon? He's sweet once you know him."

"Really?"

"Sadly not. He's as sharp as a cut from a friend, but don't fear. I know how to best Greon."

Darsey inwardly rolled her eyes, but assumed an outward expression of awed admiration. "Wow, really? You must be the real leader-"

"Quiet," the alien interrupted, and Darsey's mouth snapped shut as she looked at him in bewilderment.

His tawny eyes regarded her coldly, until he suddenly smiled again. However, that friendly grin was not for Darsey. His gaze moved past her to someone approaching along the tunnel. There was a whisper of air and a female figure glided to a halt between Darsey and Nightwing. The newcomer pretended to ignore the human, but Darsey glimpsed curiosity in her gray eyes before she turned away with a shake of long, silver hair.

"Hey, Senior."

"Hey, Jileea."

"New?"

"Single species that seems base grade primitive. I'm keeping it for service, but I'll be lucky if it's fit for such."

"It's female," the stranger commented. Her remark was a statement, not a question, and Darsey was grateful to meet someone who could actually recognize that.

"Ye," the male agreed guardedly. "So?"

"Soooo," the other drawled in response, "will she bring any profit? Can we take her to auction, or to a brothel? Was this detour worth it?" She looked over her shoulder at Darsey again and her mouth frowned, creasing her pale upper lip. Her expression was unimpressed and she made no effort to hide her doubts about their new acquisition's worth.

"Yes," Nightwing answered loudly enough to make Darsey jump, "there will be profit. I bought her as my slave and Greon pushes hard bargaining. You know he doesn't seal until satisfied. You'll share a good ship's due."

The female's head snapped round to face him and her voice rose too. "You bought her? She's not to go to auction? There's no outer credit? No cash in?"

"That's right, Data Senior, but there's no loss-"

"How can you know that?" the other interrupted fiercely, making Darsey jump and float gently away from the arguing pair. Her owner's eyes remained fixed on his subordinate, but one of the feathery strands that framed his throat rose higher when Darsey moved away. It tracked her path and then settled, pointing straight at her, until she drifted to a halt. She scrunched her hands into fists and drifted without moving, even when the female crewmember's voice rang down the tunnel.

"Don't act the ignorant kres, Wing. You know it's important. A profit-light tour can draw bad Luck. We may be pirates, but most of us are mermaridian and we won't let anything curse our Luck. If the mutt think something has, there'll be disaster. Most of the crew will mutiny."

"Led by you, maytell?" Nightwing asked softly.

The female's silver hair bristled, while her lips creased even further. "Don't cast shade on my loyalty. I've been Data Senior for three years past, with no sign of revolt. I'm warning you with good intent, because this unsold slave could be death to morale. The ship's Luck should be purged. Now."

She spun to face Darsey before Nightwing could protest. Jileea's lips twisted and her right arm rose, hand held flat in a fist, so the silver bracelet around her wrist was revealed in unmistakable threat. Darsey flinched and drifted backwards. Far too slowly. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but how? The alien's arm moved to track Darsey, who kicked out hard in response aiming for the sloping tunnel wall.

Her foot connected with enough force to throw her across the passage. She rebounded from the curve of its far side, but Jileea's hand followed the movement and then steadied as Darsey stopped just short of the exit she had hoped to reach. She groped desperately for that oval opening, but the spacesuit's bulk slowed her again. Jileea's eyes narrowed in concentration as she aimed down the corridor.

"Enough." Nightwing's order was quiet and deceptively casual, but his fist came to rest against the back of his subordinate's head. His golden wrist band was humming so loudly that even Darsey could hear it and Jileea's hair rippled with that vibration, like a silver curtain in a breeze.

She quickly raised her arm to aim at the ceiling instead of Darsey and much more slowly turned her head. She studied her crewmate grimly, but her tone was apologetic. "No need to blow holes in the ship. Greon wouldn't thank us for such."

Darsey hardly heard her. The sudden, inexplicable threat to her life had finally released the horror building since her capture. She started to tremble and took a deep breath as adrenaline shook her. The two aliens were oblivious. They confronted each other and Nightwing's grim words echoed in Darsey's head.

"Don't ever raise an arm to my property, DS, or you'll lose it, I swear."

"Swear on your honor?" the other challenged and Nightwing's face grew taut.

His amber complexion paled and two faint scars, one along each cheekbone, glittered gold against it. "Do you taunt me, Jileea?"

Darsey took another shuddering breath and managed to bring the tense couple back into focus. She could see that the woman was tempted to say yes. The two measured each other for a charged moment and then Jileea relaxed with a wary smile.

"Not so, Wing. You're my friend and I've no thought to argue, even less to fight. I regret acting so fast. I more-so regret what I just said. I was simply curious..." Her voice trailed off with a questioning lilt, but Nightwing stared at her until she nodded in submission, without asking again about his honor.

"I'll have no more talk of cursed luck," he ordered softly, "from you or any other. The ship made a profit, which all will share, and the slave's not to be touched. There'll be no more words on this. Agreed?"

"As you say." Jileea pouted, but then seemed to relent and smiled more warmly at her superior before raising her wrist.

Darsey tensed, but the silver bracelet moved past her to fire a pulse that sent its owner flying along the corridor. Jileea shrank in seconds to a receding streak of silver. Darsey sagged deeper in her suit in relief, but Nightwing ignored her to stare after his subordinate. He watched Jileea until she vanished in the darkness, and his expression was brooding. He started when Darsey finally touched his arm and when she drifted into him, he looked down at her with a rueful grimace.

"She would have killed me," Darsey stated as flatly as she could, but her voice still shook. "Why?"

Nightwing's features hardened again as he considered the question. "She certainly would. She's mermaridian, as-with Greon and the mutt who escorted you aboard, and they're a species that has some extreme superstitions."

"About good luck?"

He raised a finger and then his arm, to grip Darsey's wrist. His gold bracelet pulsed and they started to move. The passage flowed past them in a seemingly random stream of well-lit openings.

"Mermaridian believe that luck flows in currents. They think once they're in a stream of such they can't lose. They take crazy risks when they're winning. Unfortunately, they're also total obsessives about bad luck and what might draw it. If they see you as a curse magnet, they'll kill you in a purge ritual."

"Great," she groaned. "This day just keeps getting better. At the moment, I do feel cursed."

Nightwing swung to face Darsey as they floated down the passage and shook her by the wrist. She tensed at the sudden movement and they glared at each other.

"Don't ever repeat that," he said fiercely. "Don't even think it. Especially near a console. Such will get both of us killed."

His grip on Darsey tightened and he extended his wrist again. The resulting surge was so strong it forced the breath back into her lungs. They hurtled down the tunnel, and entrances passed as a golden blur. She tried to find enough air to protest, but, before she could, the trip was over. They braked hard and Darsey was swung into a corridor where her weight returned. She stumbled again, although her companion made the transition to gravity smoothly. Great. Her body had clearly embraced its role as the bulky, clumsy alien. She sighed and made an effort to look around, despite the padding holding her head.

The passage in front of Darsey was claustrophobically cramped. It was lucky she was used to living in a tin can. Doors were crowded along the corridor, recessed ovals of faded orange set in dirty lavender walls. The surfaces appeared smooth, yet the floor beneath her shuffling feet offered plenty of grip. Light glowed uniformly from the ceiling and walls, but, as they passed the junction with another passage, the section around them flickered and faded. Only the dim light from the corridor ahead remained.

"What a dump," Darsey blurted in disbelief, and Nightwing looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm sorry your first alien ship disappoints. We've little here to rival inner system technology."

"Not unless you steal it," she snapped, but he ignored her.

"Here," he said abruptly and grabbed her wrist to halt her before a faded orange door. "My quarters."

Darsey drew a sharp breath and if felt as if her spacesuit was pinching her in the middle. Which was ridiculous since there was plenty of room, enough for her to pull her arms into its hard shell if she wanted, but some sort of vice was definitely tightening in her gut. She jerked her hand angrily and Nightwing released her straight away. They glared at each other yet again, while she awkwardly crossed her suited arms and braced her feet. She had no intention of being dragged anywhere else.

However, Nightwing paced away from Darsey, then turned back and threw his arms out wide. "Do I have to carry you from the corridor before more of my crew try to claim your eyes? Do you lack all but the most basic protective instincts?"

"My instincts are just fine and they're screaming at me to stay out of your parlour." Darsey pushed her spacesuit into a slight crouch, ready to resist if the alien tried anything, but instead he paused before walking slowly back to join her.

"My name is Nightwing. I'm a kres. I claimed you as my share of the plunder to protect you. I've no intent to harm you and I've no habit of keeping slaves. I'm not like Greon. I repeat, it should be obvious I won't hurt you."

Darsey tried to place her hands on her hips, but they slid off the hard curves of her suit, so she frowned at the alien instead. "There's hurt and then there's hurt. How do I know you don't have other designs on me?"

One of Nightwing's brows shot up, his eyes flicked briefly down, then up as he checked out Darsey and then he started to laugh. He managed another glance in her direction before he threw back his head and roared. Tears started to flow down his checks and he stamped his feet, while she felt fire spread under her helmet padding and across her face. She stamped her foot too, but it seemed he couldn't stop and she had to speak over his guffaws.

"You! You are not a gentleman."

Nightwing wiped a hand across his cheeks, still chuckling. "I don't understand what that is, but I am amused. You're the most entertaining primitive I've met."

"And you're the rudest, most arrogant prick I've ever met. Didn't your mother teach you manners?"

A hand closed tight around the back of Darsey's neck, making her yelp. Nightwing pulled her close and thrust his face into hers, until all she could see were amber eyes above angled scars. Impossible to read, but she was guessing he was pissed. Perhaps aliens didn't have mothers. He jerked her closer still and ignored her small cry of protest to lean lower until his breath was hot against her cheek.

"Out here," Nightwing growled, "polite will see you dead." His fingers tightened in the padding round Darsey's neck and he half-lifted her to propel her straight into the door. She cried out as she was slammed at a dirty orange oval and closed her eyes, but there was no contact. No bones breaking, no blood. No pain at all.

Perhaps she was unconscious. Darsey tried slowly opening one eye. Darkness. Well, that didn't help at all... until she felt the alien move behind her.

"Lights on. Full," Nightwing snapped, and a faint glow grew rapidly to reveal a tiny, windowless rectangle.

She glanced at the kres, who looked back without expression, before brushing past her. "The lights should come up automatically," he explained.

"Where... where are we? I mean, what happened to the door?"

"It was open. The lock wasn't lit, so there was no energy field. That door's just a projection, an optical illusion. You can walk straight through without stopping."

Darsey leaned closer to the dull orange surface, but it still looked convincingly solid. "After you next time," she said firmly, and Nightwing laughed. He seemed to swap emotions as rapidly as a diva dealing with her stylist. Or as randomly as a psychopath. Darsey pushed that thought aside at once and left it cowering with all the other horrors she was ignoring.

"Welcome to my quarters," Nightwing announced and spread his arms wide until his fingertips touched either entrance wall.

"Palatial," Darsey murmured, ducking under one of his arms to shuffle into the room and look around curiously.

The chamber was dominated by a bed in an alcove at the far end. There was a curved console of featureless gray that ran the length of the wall to her left. The wall on the right had the only other door in Nightwing's quarters, which was flanked by a translucent panel of dirty pink. Darsey wrinkled her nose and ignored the console as she studied the room. Access to the ship's computer was her only hope of escape, so it seemed a good idea to look disinterested.

The alien joined Darsey in the main room and tapped her on the shoulder, drawing a hollow thud from her suit. "Listen well," he ordered. "The Bandit's a pirate ship and no place for a stroll. If you want to stay safe until we reach port, you'd best play the working slave. I've just spent a drak of a lot and I don't want it wasted. It cost thousands to save you and I'd appreciate some gratitude."

"Really?"

"Really." Nightwing gave a tight smile. "I hope I'll not regret this deal."

"You might. I'm not making any promises."

He managed another slight smile and gestured at the door behind them. "Believe me, the safest place for you is in my cabin."

Darsey remained unconvinced, but she had a depressing lack of options. She sighed and looked around the chamber instead, shaking her head at the lack of space. "Where am I going to sleep?"

"In my bed.You'll go to bed early-on to warm my side. You can roll across when I arrive."

Darsey stiffened and Nightwing frowned when she glowered at him. "Don't you have electric blankets? Powered heating for your blessed bed," she explained at his obvious surprise.

He flicked his fingers dismissively. "If I used power for such pampering, Greon would gut me."

"So you'll use me instead?"

"It's needed." Nightwing wandered further into the room and settled against the curved edge of the console, apparently untouched by Darsey's anger. His expression was cold, but his gaze was all fire and made her feel as if she was about to be pinned by talons. She had to lock her knees to stop from backing up. This guy was better than Greon, but not by much. She gave him a look that was meant to be withering, but he yawned in response, then sagged against his perch and hung his head, so he could ignore her while he spoke.

"In truth I've little time and less energy for your concerns. You're my property and if I treat you well the crew might notice. That could lead to challenges, duels, assassination... I've been through such already, just to hold my rank, and I've no wish to be tested again. So keep this place tidy and supplied and search the menus to see if the kitchen console can find any decent food. Deal?"

Darsey was fuming and she made no effort to hide it. "All that and I get to warm your bed too. I must be the luckiest girl on this side of space."

"Many females would kill to warm my bed," he agreed.

Darsey's eyes narrowed, but Nightwing seemed oblivious. He stretched and yawned before pushing himself to his feet. He ran a finger down the diagonal fastening of his vest and it swung open at his touch. Darsey's disgust shrivelled to a sliver of ice that sat cold and sharp in her stomach. She stood quite still, trying to be inconspicuous, while her owner stripped. He pulled off his top and shook himself like a dog leaving water, then turned to toss his discarded clothing at a dark strip on the wall. The vest hit its target and disappeared.

Darsey gaped. "How?" she wondered aloud, intrigued despite herself. She was still staring at that dark vanishing point when a pair of boots was thrown and swallowed in turn.

"Compression storage," Nightwing answered heavily. His voice was now thick with fatigue and he spared only a hooded glance for his curious guest. "It compresses molecules, pressurises them, if you like. Removes all that empty space within and between, so they take up little-as room. Don't try such with living tissue, though. It destroys the energy-matter matrix and decompression gets messy."

Nightwing yawned again, before taking a single stride to fall face-first onto the bed. He collapsed on top of the main cover and kicked a spare blanket aside, before rousing himself enough to turn his head and look at her, but then yawned again before he could speak. "Gods, it was full hard breaking through to your system. That's my job, you know... to break and enter. New passages are always most difficult and I truly need to sleep." He looked at her and his drooping eyelids flicked open with belated realisation. "You must have had an awful day too."

Darsey simply shook her head at the ridiculous understatement. Nightwing actually looked ashamed and pushed himself onto an elbow to access the band on his wrist. His fingers danced over its surface and a piece of shimmering cloth fluttered from compression storage in response. It drifted to land on Darsey's boots and draped her feet in soft gold billows.

"Nightwear," he explained. He looked at her spacesuit appraisingly. "Don't worry. It stretches."

He waved vaguely at the internal door. On one side of the truncated oval door, the wall was solid, while on the other there was a dirty, frosted panel. Nightwing gestured to the opaque side. "Blutions," he mumbled indistinctly, "for bodily wastes." He pointed at the translucent wall and made an effort to speak clearly. "Cleansing bay. You can wash if you wish. Just tell the cleanser what field setting you want. Don't worry 'bout bed-warm tonight."

"Thank you so much," Darsey answered with withering sarcasm, but the alien turned away and collapsed to sprawl across the bed again. Her jaw clenched at such an abrupt dismissal and she made no effort to claim the clothing pooled around her feet.

"I'm Darsey," she said loudly. "By the way and just in case you're interested." She stamped awkwardly to the bed, but Nightwing's breathing had deepened already and he was clearly oblivious to her clumsy approach. He gave a single, deep sigh and then settled as sleep claimed him.

"Darsey Ice," she announced over him, but there was no response. She raised her eyebrows indignantly and opened her mouth again, but then let it snap shut. Despite her need for information and for the simple comfort of conversation, she had no desire to waken this arrogant and selfish alien. It was a sudden, overwhelming relief to be alone. She stopped holding memories in check and let them come unhindered. There was a rush of familiar faces and actions, swept aside by violence, and Darsey had to suppress a sob as pain bent her double. The grief was overwhelming and she stuffed a fist into her mouth in an effort to stay quiet.

She had no intention of letting Nightwing see her weakness, but a moan escaped before she could regain control. She drew two deep breaths, calming herself and managed to stand straight again. There was no response from the alien, but she glared at his still form with growing suspicion. The sudden thought that he might be spying on her, that he might be secretly amused by her pain, was horrifying. He seemed deeply asleep, but she felt an imperative urge to be sure. She stepped forward slowly, making an effort not to creak in her suit, and bent over to touch him.

Before her hand could reach the curve of Nightwing's shoulder, a shock surged through her arm. It came from nowhere, a burst of physical pain that flashed from fingers to shoulder. Darsey fell back with a cry and a curse, clutching her throbbing hand. She felt the crisping of her flesh and had to force herself to look down, expecting to see a melted suit and blackened skin. Amazingly, her gloved hand looked normal and her arm seemed equally unharmed. She took a single shaking breath and her mind regrouped enough to think, what? Her unspoken question received an unexpected response.

"Refrain from physical contact," a disembodied female voice ordered, and Darsey snapped upright again, her hand still cradled against her chest. She swivelled awkwardly to survey the room. "Your present distance is acceptable," the voice murmured smugly, apparently whispering in Darsey's ear, but Nightwing's small quarters seemed as empty as before.

Darsey took a deep breath before looking around slowly, careful not to move more than her head, but Nightwing's protector remained hidden. She shook her hand experimentally and let it fall when the gesture proved painless. She knew that she was angry, furiously angry, but was too tired to connect with the emotion. Her body and its feelings seemed suddenly very distant. "Damn," she muttered, in a listless echo of annoyance. "You could have warned me."

"That was a warning," the voice responded calmly.

"Great." Darsey's assailant was still unseen and she had no energy left to be subtle. "Who or what are you anyway?"

"I am Pertwing and I am Nightwing's... friend. Sleep now, alien slave. I will watch."

"Charming." Darsey sighed and blinked back tears again. She swivelled slowly, although, as she expected, the room was still empty. However, a tiny golden globe now floated above the console, reflected from its dull gray curve. It was the only change since the strange conversation began and she abruptly realized what it meant. "You're the computer."

"I am Nightwing's personal program," the voice admitted curtly. "This conversation is terminated. I do not wish to disturb Nightwing's rest."

"He doesn't look too disturbed to me. I'd say he's out for the count. Hello? Pertwing? You could at least say goodnight. Pertwing?" Darsey bit her lip, but a ragged laugh escaped anyway. "You're his program, all right. I didn't think it was possible for a computer to be so offensive."

Darsey turned back to the bed, but there was no response from its occupant. She made a rude gesture at his unconscious form, finally satisfied that he was really asleep. Although he had sprawled across the mattress, there was still plenty of room for her.

However, Darsey was never going to sleep beside one of the creatures that had murdered her friends. She staggered back in disgust and moved to the far wall, a journey of two paces. She took a deep breath and her eyes burned again. She forced away thoughts of her crew... of Will... of her ship and of her lost home. Then she started to strip, concentrating instead on forcing her weary fingers to free her from her spacesuit.

It was half-an-hour later when Darsey finally kicked off the last piece. Her boot skidded across the floor and hit the base of the bed with a satisfying thump, but there was no response from Nightwing. She sighed, but then her hands flew to cover her mouth, when she realized the kres had something she needed. She tip-toed to the bed, suddenly anxious not to wake him and get caught stealing his spare blanket. Too bad if the alien got cold, her need was greater.

Darsey clutched the thick, gray cover and retreated all the way to the tiny cleansing cubicle. She stood there until her pulse slowed. The only sound was Nightwing's soft snore and she realized she was holding her breath, but there was no point delaying any longer. It was time to get naked. She gulped for air and courage, before pulling off the last of her suit padding with rough jerks. She grabbed the nightgown off the floor and yanked its silky folds over her head. It rippled down her body to settle smoothly into place. At any other time she would have paused to enjoy its clinging softness, but not tonight.

Darsey quickly threw the cover she'd stolen around herself, making as many layers as she possibly could. She stopped, breathing hard and almost relaxed. She was finally free of the cumbersome suit and ready to fight if she had to. She wouldn't panic or hesitate next time. Well, she wouldn't hesitate at least.

Darsey had to push herself to leave the tiny cubicle. She finally sidled back into the main room, and edged further from the bed. She dropped to the floor with a shiver and wedged herself in the farthest corner from Nightwing. She wrapped her arms around her legs, fixed her gaze on the alien and prepared to stay awake. She'd sleep later, when she could finally face the nightmares.

4

Loyalty

Another alien ship cruised much further from Earth than the Bandit. It looked insignificant against the darkness around it – a simple sliver of gold that was the only Royal Fleet presence in this remote system. It patrolled an area that was nominally kres territory, but was seldom visited, even by the fleet and never by civilian kres. Only the most desperate merchants dared this perilous run, which was at least a dozen passages away from more civilised systems.

However, such a barren stretch of space seemed to suit the small and battered craft. The scars of recent battle blackened most of its golden skin and one flared edge of its diamond-shaped body was jagged and torn. Its name had been re-inscribed to stand out boldly against the partially seared fullerene. Honor. The purple letters caught the gleam of a distant sun and then started to shimmer. They wavered like writing seen through rippling water. The entire ship seemed to writhe, and then vanished.

The invisible Honor slowed, to drift silent and unseen. It was hidden from sight and from every scan, except the most focused. Its crew waited patiently at combat stations. The only activity was in the nest, where the senior crew worked weightlessly to control their ship.

"The trap's set, sah, and our camouflage is secure," Sub Clearwing Pinion said softly from her seat at the secondary data console.

"Full camouflage?" inquired the ship's Leader, tilting his chair to study the new sub's projection.

She spared him a shy smile and a cloud of blonde hair that had largely escaped its braid floated around her head as she turned back to her projected data.

"Ye, sah. Everything that's hitting us is being on-sent to the opposite side. Starlight, radiation, space dust and traces of solar wind. It's as if we're not here."

"Good work," said Leader Freefall FarFlight. He finished scrolling through the sub's collection-transmission matrix and tilted his head at his senior officer, who hung motionless above him. Senior Gull gave the faintest smile of approval. Freefall relaxed and turned back to the main hologram, which showed a freighter convoy moving slowly toward the system's nearest passage point.

"The bait looks good, sah," Gull observed, "and certain-sure to tempt pirates."

"They're close," the Leader stated softly. "I can feel them." He looked around the Honor's nest with quiet satisfaction. His chair hung in the middle of a hollow globe, surrounded by his crew at their consoles. They floated around him in orderly rows, all with the same orientation as their leader. Everyone was neat and alert, unlike the savages they hunted.

Freefall tapped his upper lip with silent satisfaction. Control was vital. Control of appetites and emotions. Fortunately his crew showed their usual perfect calm, with one aggravating exception. His gaze slid quickly past the padded monstrosity of purple and gold that was his own armrest, to lock on the less ornate but equally gaudy seat of the senior data console.

Lord Cliff BackBeak, second heir of his clan and Data Senior on the Honor, failed to notice Freefall's scrutiny. The officer should have been engrossed in his hologram feeds, but instead was scowling at his new subordinate.

Freefall glanced at Clearwing too, but the Sub was oblivious, concentrating only on her data. She leaned forward slightly, into the holograms with her lips parted and his gaze drifted back to her. Which was strange, because she was not the problem. Sadly, that was Data Senior BackBeak, who remained incompetent despite Freefall's best efforts.

The Leader looked back to his DS, who was still grimacing at young Clearwing. It seemed even a fool could recognise his replacement. Unfortunate. It would take real skill to stop this from getting messy.

Freefall rested his aching eyes briefly and cursed the pecking order that dictated the bright stripes and braid of every seat around him. The wildly varied shades regularly gave him a headache. Senior navigation and tactical were presently above his head, and both were particularly gaudy. Freefall longed to spin his chair and place them behind him, but they were vital systems and he needed to watch them closely while the ship waited to pounce.

He briefly envied his Senior. Gull Snowbeak was the only unseated member of the crew and moved through the nest with practiced ease, positioning himself wherever he wanted. He had an uncanny ability to be exactly where he was needed and, as usual, he discretely responded to his leader's unspoken distress. A gentle pulse from his com wafted him into Freefall's line of sight, so that he hid most of tactical, with its neon pink seat and orange braid.

The leader gave his Senior a grateful smile and Gull nodded before turning away to watch tactical for him. The Tactical Senior shifted awkwardly under his critical scrutiny, but she was an experienced officer and soon settled back to her routine work. The nest's quiet efficiency was finally interrupted by the new sub.

"Sah!" Clearwing stated eagerly, looking up at Freefall through the secondary data console's display. "There's a fluctuation at passage point. It could be opening."

The leader glanced at her data stream as a ripple of amusement expanded to fill the nest. He felt unexpected disappointment, but still found a smile for his newest officer. "It could be, Sub, but it looks more like Comet 17-35 in its standard orbit."

Clearwing's hair stirred in embarrassment, trying to stand on end despite its length, and she flinched at the revealing rustling. Her brown eyes peered miserably at Free, from a halo of golden wisps.

"Never stress," said Gull dryly. "If you ever want a career mapping comets, you'll do well."

"Yes, sah," she whispered, with her eyes now riveted above her console.

Freefall casually swiped a finger through his control field to see what she was staring at. A message tag scrolled across the air in front of him, its ident clear, because its sender had made no effort to hide behind privacy protocols. It was sent by Sub BackBeak, another recent recruit and the nephew of Data Senior BackBeak. Congratulations, comet-girl, Freefall read. You completely failed to impress the leader. Thanks for gifting me the next sub-plus promotion.

Freefall stretched and looked casually across at Clearwing. There was a slight frown between her eyes, but her hand was steady as she swiped the taunt away. Good. A sudden ripple appeared in the scan and Freefall's head snapped back to study his feed. The disturbance was faint and intermittent, but likely to be a ship jumping in. He glanced at his Data Senior, but he was still glaring at Clearwing and Free bit back a curse. Control.

"Sah," a voice called, but it was the Data Sub not Backbeak. Her blonde braid twisted with embarrassment when everyone stared at her, but she spoke up clearly. "There's another fluctuation at point. I think it's an early jump trace-"

She was interrupted by Data Senior BackBeak.

"Sah," he cried, "we've got a post-passage signature. It's confirmed. A ship's come through. Ident pending."

"Good work," Freefall replied calmly and pivoted his chair to face Clearwing's station directly. "Both of you. Sub Pinion, run the ident please."

"Yessah." Clearwing's hair stirred again, but she ran the analysis with smooth precision. If her Leader's close scrutiny worried her it didn't show. Freefall's spirits rose as he watched her confident movements and he dared to hope that she would justify the use of his entire crew-request quota for the next three years. She had cost his command dearly, but he was determined to fill his ship with the best officers the fleet could produce and, despite her inexperience, he believed Clearwing had the potential to be one of them.

"It's certain-sure pirate, sah," she announced after an impressively quick analysis. "A non-registered Carrion Class strike ship, with ch't'kar propulsion and t'ssaa augmented weapons."

Freefall glanced at the Data Senior for confirmation and Clearwing's superior belatedly finished his match.

"Energy field?" the leader demanded, and it was Clearwing who answered first.

"On and strong. They're showing level ten with full deployment."

Senior Gull Snowbeak grunted in surprise. "Which explains why they're not trying to run camouflaged. They must be putting their total power to the drakking field, but how can a raider hold so much?" He glanced sideways at his leader and they exchanged unspoken concern. However, Freefall hid his uneasiness.

"Defense fields are static and take little holding once generated. It was likely a one-time power up while they were at their base." He sat straight and looked confidently around the nest. "Wherever they found the power, it's good for us. We're due for a challenge. Let our pirate snag the convoy and then move straight in."

"We could try to sneak up on them, sah," young Sub BackBeak suggested loudly from the outer ring of consoles and Freefall suppressed a sigh.

"That convoy's still in our lap and as cosy as a pet chick. This is snuck up, Sub. Anyway, unless they're asleep, they'll read our engine sign at first power-up."

"Ye, Sah," Sub BackBeak agreed quietly, but the words were forced past a scowl.

The leader responded with a neutral nod and swivelled his chair to face external visuals. Gods save us from the idiot nephews of idiot lords, he thought grimly, before focusing on projections of the pirate ship as it approached the convoy.

"They're coming in at a creep," Gull observed. "Any slower and they'd be in stasis."

He and Freefall shared a grin. They knew that caution couldn't save the pirate. His vessel was no match for the Honor, even behind a level ten defense screen. Freefall had spent much of his personal wealth to ensure that the ageing ship he'd been assigned was more than it seemed. The pirate was about to be most surprised.

Senior Gull lifted a bristling frond to share an emotion with Free and they were briefly linked by mutual satisfaction. The pirate ship braked to intercept the convoy and sent out a field to take the automated freighters in tow.

"All right, let's go. Full propulsion, NS. Let's get their most focused attention. Send a link, CS. I want out-talk with their leader."

"Link confirmed, sah," the Communication Senior announced as a new image was projected to Freefall.

A hologram grew in the air before him and the tightness in his jaw eased at the sight of the pirate leader. She was mermaridian, as he expected, but she had a beauty for which he was unprepared. Good looks were usual in his technologically advanced civilisation, but the pirate had a rare and striking combination of features that was almost impossible to achieve artificially. Her face looked like the unique product of nature and not fashion. Short silver hair was braided into gold extensions that floated around her without restraint to frame light silver eyes highlighted by purple lids. The pirate leader shifted nervously in her seat to expose a shapely thigh and flank.

"This is embarrassing," she stated gravely and slid gracefully from her seat, to float in front of it with her legs tucked under her. She bowed forward while kneeling in a gesture of surrender. "This is clearly a Luckless day's thieving for us. I'm Leader Lamidia of the Reaper. I won't offer insult to your abilities by lying, Leader...?"

"Leader FarFlight of the Honor."

The pirate's eyes widened in recognition of Freefall's royal family name and she offered another supple bow.

"You and your crew are now in arrest," Freefall announced coldly. "You have trespassed in kres space and appropriated kres property. Your ship will be confiscated and held while you face trial. Power down your defense field now."

The mermaridian spread her hands helplessly. "I'm optionless, aren't I? Very well, I accept your authority, Leader FarFlight, and will deliver as ordered." She paused to flick a finger and Free tensed, but she smiled sweetly. "Our defense field is down and propulsion cut. I'll wait for you here, Leader. I'm ready for boarding." Her smile grew warmer and she stretched in an apparent release of tension. She beckoned with a finger and then her image was gone, replaced by a hologram of the Reaper.

"I need a vomit strip," Sub BackBeak muttered from the outer layer of consoles, but Freefall ignored him.

The pirate ship glided on unpowered and for the first time that modest vessel looked menacing to Free. Its surrender had been suspiciously quick. A flick of his finger enlarged the projection and its black curves grew to hover over him. A hand fell on his shoulder and he almost started. He looked back at Gull, who was floating just behind him. His Senior glared at the projection of the pirates' now-motionless ship and fed com power to his fronds to silently share his concern.

Way too easy, sah. Look at them, as still as a monsoon bird waiting to fall with the rain. They'll drift down and rip out our throat.

Free relaxed and smiled for the crew, but his thoughts were grim. I know it's a trap, Senior. Pirates usually scan us and float about laughing. They always need convincing that surrender is a good idea. And renegade mermaridian have to be dragged flapping and pecking into kres criminal rehab. They never just give up, but what would you have me do?

Blast them, Gull suggested, but his hair stirred under his leader's stare. I'm sorry, sah. I agree we can't do that. Sometimes I hate being fleet.

I know, Gull. It plucks. But we can't start shooting people who've offered surrender. We'll go in cautious-as. Like all the ships before us, he realized. All the ships that have disappeared in this sector. Drak it, Gull. They know we're suspicious, but they've made no attempt to fight. They didn't even protest or threaten to call their ambassador. Their capture was completely unconvincing. What does that tell us?

His senior looked at him sharply. They have no care if we guess it's a trap. They're certain-sure we can't escape, no matter how careful we are.

"Exactly," Free snarled, and his chair twisted along with his upper lip. The nest spun dizzyingly, but he was used to the sensation and the colors were no bother now that he was distracted. His chair rose, to stop beside senior navigation. "Full braking now. I want us stopped, NS."

She was startled by the unexpected order, but instantly obeyed. The data and visual projections filling the nest blurred as figures and perspectives changed. The Honor slowed rapidly from its careful advance. The approaching pirate vessel seemed to swing above the Leader's head as they stabilised at new co-ordinates. The sorriest ship of the kres fleet glided to a halt and hung in open space. Freefall let his breath escape very gently, so that no one heard the sigh. His caution was justified, because everyone in the nest was watching him expectantly.

He nodded gravely for their benefit, then turned confidently to the Communication Senior, hoping that only Gull realized he was guessing their enemy's next move. "Any-all from our pirates, CS?"

The officer shook his head. "No, sa... yes. Yes, they want in-talk."

Freefall nodded as though he had expected nothing else. "Put them through."

The projected image of the enemy ship shrank and was replaced by a hologram of its leader. The mermaridian female seemed bewildered and shook her gleaming hair in confusion. Yet, the look she gave Freefall was coy and she let her eyelids droop to show their purple pigment.

"Leader FarFlight, I'm looking forward to surrendering to you. I know we can't match you. I'm not stupid, Lord, and every pirate has heard of the ships captured throughout these systems. I knew at first intro that you must be responsible. The royal family would only send one of their own out here to good purpose. I repeat, I surrender and invite you to board. Is that not what you wish? Why do you stop?"

"Leader," Freefall responded curtly, "I propose a change of procedure. A specialist ship is due to arrive and take charge of your vessel. You will abandon the Reaper and escape in rescue fields. Have no concern. I promise we'll retrieve you full quick. I want to meet you too."

The pirate tried to smile, but there was a sulky twist to her lips that marred her beauty. "Very well, FarFlight. Your request is unusual, but I'll trust your word. Please proceed with all speed to retrieve our escape fields. It will take us less than ten minutes to exit."

The kres nodded. "I understand. Be assured I'll see you soon."

He mentally severed the connection and the now-brooding mermaridian vanished. The tension gripping the nest eased with her disappearance.

"Creepy," Sub BackBeak stated with his usual lack of tact. "She's a typical muck gat. They're all gamblers or pirates and we won't be safe 'til their luck runs out. Permanently. We should blast them now."

Freefall was clear of his seat before he realized it. An expert flick from his com sent him hurtling across the nest and into BackBeak's space. The startled youngster squawked and quailed, pressing back into his seat.

"Don't ever say such again. I won't tolerate bias in my nest, nor back world prejudice, nor its ugly names. Understood?"

The Sub stared blankly and his fronds retracted sharply, disappearing behind his ears.

"Do you?"

"Yes, sah."

"Good." Freefall passed a hand across his damp forehead and realized that he had not only lost control, but lost it very publicly. His short hair rustled against his collar in shame. "Thank you, Sub." He braced himself and twisted back to the rest of the nest.

Around the hollow chamber, his crew was uniformly busy despite the ship's undemanding drift. However, there was no mental touch of embarrassment and no deliberate avoidance of his gaze. Instead, there was a strong sense of approval from the combined minds of the crew. Their preoccupation was simply designed to give him a private moment to recover. He floated thoughtfully back to his seat and Clearwing glanced up through her data projections as he passed. She rolled her eyes in BackBeak's direction and smiled. Freefall had to suppress a laugh and managed a neutral nod instead.

He settled into his seat again and was shocked to realize that he had been distracted from the Reaper. His hair actually brushed across his forehead this time. He couldn't afford mistakes like that. Not after his past disgrace.

"DS, can you get any data from that ship?"

"Their internal fields are still up, sah. I can't read a thing."

Freefall grimaced and pain traced the length of the two scars on his cheekbones. He was caught by memory and suddenly felt blood washing his face, while the tip of his own knife sliced deep. The only sound was his Uncle's laughter... Free gulped for air, unable to see his ship or crew. He dug his fingers deep in his padded armrests, but was somehow still trapped in the palace dungeons. Trapped with that drakking laugh.

"Sah," a clear voice called, demanding Free's attention and he was back. He blinked at Clearwing and she smiled shyly in return. "Actually, sah, the lack of data is most revealing."

The Data Senior scowled at her, while his fronds ordered her to be quiet, but Freefall overrode the emotional directive and gestured for her to continue.

"It tells us they have something to hide, sah. We should get some information from a ship without a defense field. Not much mayhaps, especially if they're strong on internal integrity, but we should read power sources, some infrared, bulkhead fluctuations. Instead, there's nothing. It's as blank as an avalanche face, or..." Clearwing stopped and frowned as she considered options.

"Or what, Sub?" the leader prompted gently.

"This is just an idea, sah, but what if...? What if it's a camouflage field?"

The Data Senior's derisive laugh interrupted Freefall's reply. "Return to your watching, Pinion, and don't bother us with your stupid theories," DS BackBeak ordered. "We've tracked that ship from point and have total data lock on it, plus a visual. We can see them. They're not hidden and that should be obvious, even to a chick."

Freefall was furious again, but this time took a calming breath and gripped the arms of his seat more tightly to keep himself from rising. He glared at his Data Senior, but before he could reprimand the officer, Clearwing continued. She was tense, but clearly undeterred by her superior's caustic comments.

"Yes, we can see them, sah, and what we see fits all our expectations of a pirate ship. We're seeing exactly what we hoped and yet the readings disagree. They don't match what seems to be there. So perhaps what we're seeing isn't right. It could be a disguise. Some new type of camouflage field. Not a collection-transmission matrix to make them vanish, but something more subtle. What if they're hiding in a giant hologram?"

The DS laughed again and smiles appeared around the nest. Even Gull looked grave and Freefall felt another pang of disappointment.

"A hologram that can fool a deep sensor sweep?" he asked doubtfully. "That would take power plus. The energy drain would be incredible. Certain-sure no pirate ship could sustain it."

Clearwing's shoulders hunched under the criticism, but she took a deep breath and ploughed on. "I did think hard, sah, and you're right in all you say, but it could still be done. A level ten power source would be needed..."

She paused when Freefall leaned forward with a hiss of sudden comprehension.

"The level ten defense field," he stated, and she nodded in silent agreement. "We scanned it when they entered the system. That field could have been a hologram projector. It was simply disguised as the defense field. If you're right, they're still using all that energy, but to hold a hologram. It makes sense. Why invest in a level ten power source without a plan to use it? Good work, Sub. Now, how do we break through and find out what's truly there?"

"An actively modified probe could do it, sah. I'm good at harmonising with fields, but pushing past a level ten hologram to fetch honest data would need all the power we have. Every-all would have to be diverted to the scan."

"Internal fields? Gravity?"

"Yes, sah. Cutting bracing fields would be helpful too. The more power I have, the quicker I can break their disguise."

"Do it," Freefall instructed the Data Senior, and BackBeak glowered, but quickly re-routed the power.

"Be ready to shift all energy to propulsion and defense when I say," the Leader ordered, but his attention was on Clearwing.

The entire nest watched that cloud of blonde hair as she bent into the field projection and began her analysis. The initial data came slowly, but the power of the scan and her skill at re-configuring it quickly yielded more. She drilled expertly through the fluctuating layers of energy designed to fool their instruments.

"Close-as now. I'll have to slow down, sah, if you don't want them to know we've broken in. I can take out a single amplitude wave for a quick scan. Any more and they'll detect the breach."

Freefall raised a finger in assent, but Clearwing was intent on the images around her and missed his sharp gesture. "Do it," he ordered instead, and the tip of her tongue appeared, pink against the gold of her lips, as she made delicate adjustments to her probe.

Her shoulders tensed abruptly, but the subtle interface of her hands and mind seemed unaffected. An invisible line of light peeled a single pulse from the pirates' hologram and color blazed through the nest. Data exploded from every console and new images formed to fill the hollow sphere. The information flowed for less than a second and then Clearwing gently withdrew. Her intrusion remained undetected, but the Honor had gained a wealth of vital data. It hung in the air before Freefall in ominous detail.

"Ye Gods," Gull muttered irreverently, and the Leader silently echoed his sentiments.

Their nest was now dominated by the image of three attack ships.

"They're Harvesters," young BackBeak quavered from his post near the wall.

Freefall spared a glance for the youngster, who looked fearfully back through the garish hulls that now surrounded them.

"Harvesters," the boy repeated hoarsely. "They've come for us. They'll take us..." He stopped to gag and his fronds tucked hard against his throat.

"No one's taking us anyplace. Ever," Freefall said calmly, and the boy managed to stop retching. The leader smiled and sent support but BackBeak scowled and looked away, his hair writhing in embarrassment.

"They're mind-lost to try harvesting in kres space," Freefall continued. "The mermaridian Lucks must be mad to think we'd allow it."

"They're gambling," Gull stated flatly. "That we won't find out, or that when we do we won't act if they apologise full quick. They know how much we hate war. What are they up to now, Sub?"

No one doubted who the Senior was addressing. Every crewmember looked expectantly at Clearwing.

"Sah... there are fluctuations in their hologram. I sense some changes. I can only take superficial readings, but I think they show an alteration. I can't be certain-sure-"

"Best guess?"

"They're changing their false face. They want to show us something else."

Freefall frowned and rubbed his aching cheek. "I wonder what?"

"Sah, it's expanding. I'll have to pull my outer scan right back."

"Sah," the CS interrupted. "In-talk."

He relayed the call to a space above his Leader's head without having to be told. Freefall tilted his chair so that he could see it clearly and checked that none of his scans showing data on the Harvesters could be seen in return.

"Leader Lamidia."

"Leader FarFlight. We've done as you asked and are leaving our ship. My crew has ejected and I'm soon to go too." She smiled winsomely, with another flash of lavender lids. "I told them you were honorable and would never leave us to drift. We trust you, Leader. You can move in for pick up now. I'll see you soon."

The mermaridian's image disappeared and was replaced by an external view of the Reaper. It appeared to be a single ship, now surrounded by the clinging bubbles of escape fields. A final translucent orb joined their cluster and slowly drifted free from the parent vessel.

"Power up propulsion," Freefall ordered. "Let them be certain-sure we're coming in. Do we have a position on any of the real ships?"

The DS cleared his throat. "We know where they were, sah, but they've most likely shifted," he offered.

"Actually," Clearwing said, and spared her senior an apologetic smile, "the biggest ship can't move. It's the source of the hologram. The demands of keeping that opaque to our scans while changing what we see are huge. Any movement would risk discovery. It's likely that the projecting Harvester is holding at the co-ordinates we know."

Freefall nodded without hesitation. "That's a sound assumption. We can't outrun three Harvesters, so we need to get creative. Let's stake a gamble and move in on that ship. Navigation, target the lead ship for ramming. Use its previous co-ordinates."

"Targeted, sah."

"Good. Divert power to the engines and be ready to push them hard, Nav Senior. Take us in looking cautious-as and then move to total thrust as we enter the hologram."

Freefall settled deeper in the grip of his chair. It rearranged itself around him, its restraint field ready to engage. He studied the slowly wheeling external visual, not bothering to look for his roving senior. He knew that Gull would have his safety harness programmed and in perfect order.

"We're entering the front edge of the energy field, sah," Clearwing announced.

The leader glanced across at his silent Data Senior, who seemed to be sulking. He ignored the angry officer and turned back to his visual. He made no effort to hide a savage grin as the Honor abruptly leapt forward. Projections in the nest blurred and then steadied as space streamed past. The energy orbs that supposedly held the pirates leapt to alarming size. The visual display compensated automatically, but the globes shrank, only to bloat again.

They flew past Freefall like bubbles rising through water. He heard the younger BackBeak gasp, but hardly registered the inexperienced reaction. He was too tightly focused on Clearwing and her data projections.

She bit her lip and leaned even further into the hologram. "Due to clear the fake feed, sah... now!"

The silver globes that seemed to grow as they passed through the nest abruptly vanished. A wall of gold, vermilion and bronze replaced them. This time, Clearwing gasped and BackBeak cried out. The Harvester hull filled every projection and its massive curve grew steeper as the Honor hurtled into it.

5

First Blood

Clearwing opened her mouth to scream, but the Honor screamed first. Metal shrieked as her ship rammed into the huge Harvester vessel. She had scarcely registered their speed when they hit. She quivered and tried to brace herself for death.

The universe shattered around her into shards of gold, purple and bronze. The Honor shuddered and squealed again, but it was the Harvester ship that broke. Clearwing belatedly realized that Freefall had transferred all of their power to a ramming field as they struck. She checked the figures on the exchange and was impressed. The transition was flawless and perfectly timed to maximise the speed at which they hit. Another tremor ran through the nest and she trembled with it. She longed to look up at her leader and be reassured by his calm competence, but no one in the nest could move. Automatic restraint fields gripped them firmly as the Honor ripped through the vitals of the Harvester vessel.

Clearwing's scanners continued to gather data and she found it impossible to look away from the visual feed. It showed a medley of twisted parts - pieces of the enemy ship flying past. She flinched when a bulkhead cartwheeled by and still their momentum drove them on.

Something duller and less garish than the Harvester interior filled her visual. Drops of blood flew into Clearwing's face and that spray seemed to hang in the air around her long after their screeching passage had left it behind.

The realisation that people were dying around her was enough to bring her to the brink of tears. She blinked furiously when her data streams blurred. She was rescued by a gentle touch on her shoulder. The restraints had eased and she looked up at the understanding face of Senior Gull. He nodded to an external projection. It showed broken spars and a motionless bulkhead before them. The only movement came from drifting clouds of debris.

We've stopped, his mind stated calmly. The leader will need information on the remaining ships. He wants you to gather it. Data lock on both, with full tracking and weapons-defense analysis. He knows you won't lose them.

Sah, isn't that the Data Senior's job, Clearwing projected in response, and Gull looked grim.

Yes, it is, and he'll be given full chance to do it, but the leader wants your sure eye on this fight too.

Clearwing flicked a finger in understanding. FarFlight had sent Gull with his private orders to avoid humiliating her superior. She looked across at Data Senior BackBeak, who was watching the Leader anxiously. FarFlight raised a finger in his direction and he slumped with obvious relief. He straightened immediately and spared Clearwing a triumphant glance before turning to his console. She tried to remain unperturbed by his malice as she powered up her own data locks.

"Very good, Sub," Gull murmured, and then wafted away with a touch of his boot to Clearwing's chair.

However, the young officer scarcely noticed. Her mind was already busy firing orders at the computer. Her mental commands created new images in the air before her, but the Data Senior was too distracted to notice.

"One ship's behind us, sah," he informed the leader grimly. "It's in wait mode outside the breach we made and now blocks our retreat."

Freefall acknowledged the information with a casual lift of his finger. He seemed utterly relaxed, but Clearwing wondered whether the faint crease in his forehead was a sign of alarm. It was impossible to know, because the leader kept his mind and emotions as carefully blocked as ever. "Where's the other ship, DS?"

The Data Senior looked back to his projections and stiffened. His dark brown hair stirred and writhed around the ship's crest braided through it. "I'm not sure. It was there a moment past, beside the other Harvester vessel. It's disappeared. Sah. They must be hidden again. In their camouflage field."

Freefall looked sharply down at his officer. "Are you certain-sure? Isn't that a faint engine trail in your data?"

"That's simply an engine residual. It's too weak to be fresh. I must lodge a formal protest against you, Ship Leader. I can't do my job with your constant interference. I ask you to refrain from trying to interpret my data."

The silence in the nest was absolute. Freefall's response was calm, but his words were clipped and something in his tone made Clearwing shiver. "I will refrain from interpreting data, DS, when I'm dead. Can you tell me anything about where that second ship could be?"

The two males glared at each other and Gull rose slowly to float behind the Data Senior. That officer's back was tight with anger and he gripped his console until his knuckles showed gold.

"They're in camouflage," he choked. "It's all that's possible. That's why they're gone."

"Gone where?"

"Noplace. Just gone."

Freefall held the other's gaze for a final second, but now his voice was as calm as his face. "I'm sorry, but that's not good enough. You're dismissed, DS. Go home and tell your family they can buy you rank, but not ability."

The Data Senior's expression was outraged, but the Leader ignored him. Instead, he spun his chair and dropped to face Clearwing. "Where are they, Clear?"

The Data Sub had to rip her gaze away from her disgraced superior, who was plucked from his seat by Senior Gull. She gulped and her eyes met Freefall's. She swallowed again and struggled to remember what she was doing.

"Your tracers, Sub," the Leader prompted and she jerked in response. Hair whirled around her, along with her holograms.

"Yessah. I've got them. The missing ship did leave that engine trail, sah. It's faint for two reasons. They used low power and there's interference from the hull surrounding us. They slipped my lock 72 seconds past, when the remains of the ship we rammed masked them. They've not reappeared and any trail from an active engine vanished. I think they're holding still and hiding on the far side of this wreck. I'd say they have us bracketed, one ship behind and the other ahead."

Freefall raised a finger in instant agreement. "I thought such. It's also perfect-as. They think they have us trapped, because we only have two options. They're waiting for us to run back through the breach, or to blast our way free and come out far-side. So let's surprise them. Tactical, engage all lock clamps and tractor fields. I want us totally attached to this hulk. Be prepared to release at my signal. NS, plot this course."

He flicked a string of co-ordinates toward the Navigation Senior's console. She integrated them smoothly into her display and her mind diverted all free power to the engine.

"Ready, sah."

Freefall raised a finger in acknowledgment, but his attention was fixed on his own data projection. Clearwing brought up his feed and saw that the Honor was well embedded in the remnants of the Harvester vessel. There were fitful life signs from pockets in the ruptured enemy hull that made her flinch, but the Leader ignored them. He highlighted the remaining two ships instead. One was clearly visible and stationed beyond the rent made when the Honor had rammed its companion. It floated ominously against darkness, but occasional flashes from the disintegrating craft around them lit its hull in an inappropriately cheery display.

Clear grimaced at its positioning. Its leader was clearly wary and had placed his ship close enough to cover their exit, but far enough away not to be easily hit in return. The Harvester had a clear advantage, with the ability to maneuver in open space.

Her attention shifted to the faint engine trail that had been left by the other vessel. It vanished as it passed to the far side of the wreck around them, but its likely destination was obvious. It must have been stationed to attack if the Honor tried to blast through the hull on that side. The Harvester's path had been tight and close to the ruptured ship as it tried to hide from her scan, but she was sure it was still there and using the wreck for cover.

Above her Freefall sat back comfortably then stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankles. His hand rose toward the high-braided collar of his purple uniform, as if to tug at it, but he managed a relaxed smile instead and looked up at navigation.

"Execute," he ordered, and the NS instantly obeyed.

There was no sense of physical movement within the shielded nest, but projections wheeled around the crew as the Honor drove forward. It leapt from rest to full propulsion and pulled the Harvester hulk with it. Clear would have been crouched on the edge of her seat, if her safety field hadn't forced her into it instead. She lay there pressed flat and watched acceleration data.

The Honor was deceptively powerful and had no difficulty pulling the pirate wreck to full speed. The linked vessels leaped forward together, but then the hidden kres ship pivoted. All drive shifted to one side and the dirty gold diamond spun, to throw one half of its ruined foe ahead, while the other turned into line behind it.

"Release clamps," Freefall ordered, and Clear blinked when the Honor dropped its hold on the straining hulk around it. What was the Leader thinking? The pirate ship would sail right on and eventually spin into them.

However, when the fields were released the forward half of the enemy wreck was hurled into its hidden comrade. The flash of an explosion filled the nest and the kres ship shook. Clearwing was stretched flat on her seat again, while the world around her turned to red and the scream of tortured carbon mimicked the unheard cries of the dying. The Harvester ship that they had first rammed finally ruptured completely. One half spun away, while the other continued to disintegrate, along with the ship it had hit. Open space appeared before the Honor and Freefall ordered them forward. They soared away from the ruin around them and accelerated in a sweeping arc to come up behind their final target.



The remaining Harvesters watched the displays in their nest with helpless horror. The target they were waiting for had reappeared in a way they had never anticipated. Their young Leader struggled with the shock of having their own ships used against them and abruptly being alone in what should have been another easy victory.

"Evasive," Lamidia screamed, and her NS shook off his horror to react barely in time.

The intact half of their rammed mother ship spun through space toward them. Its considerable momentum powered its tumbling rush and Lamidia's ship darted sideways before it. A glancing blow jarred one fluted wing, but the smaller craft staggered clear. Damage logos flashed in the air before the fuming leader and she cursed. "Where the Luck is that inbred kres?"

"Coming round behind, Leader. They've got data lock."

"Full power evasive. Tuck us behind the remains of the Kill."

Her officer's mind and fingers flew as he complied. The Reaper lurched forward vibrating and groaning from structural damage. The ship veered toward the tangled mass that was all that remained of its companions, but that shelter approached at erratic speed and Lamidia cursed again. She could scarcely believe their latest battle had been so quickly lost and her heart chilled at the truth in that thought. This battle was lost and even the chance of escape was slim.

"Low odds are better than none," she muttered, "and sometimes they pay best of all."

The nest abruptly brightened with the projected image of an energy pulse and the Reaper was slammed sideways. Lamidia felt her ship lift and split around her. The already damaged strut that used to curve to follow the hull disintegrated. Its loss caused a ship-long rupture and containment fields struggled to seal the breach. Lamidia sorted through the images floating before her, hands and mind flying as she absorbed data. She realized that the strike was not a direct hit and that the energy bolt had struck the remains of their defense screen. She traced its vector from the kres ship and it was clear that the miss was deliberate. The fleet vessel had aimed to one side in an effort to stun them with concussion from the blast. The kres captain clearly wanted prisoners as part of his victory. She snarled and felt wetness above her lip. She reached up to wipe her bloody nose and a streak of purple smeared her hand.

"Curse all kres," she choked. "Luck leave them forever." She looked up at the sound of a com chime.

The image of Freefall floated in the air before her. His expression was serious, even sympathetic, and she cursed again at the hypocrisy of the Royal Fleet.

"A truly good fight, Leader," he said grimly, and she sneered in response. "Your luck is lost today. We're not here to be harvested. Kres will never be fodder for your arenas and auction pits. We demand the return of every slave and gladiator kidnapped from our territory."

Lamidia's eyes widened and she pasted a look of bewilderment over her sneer. "What, me, Leader? Kidnap mighty kres? I deny your accusations and suggest you talk to the Lucks. I certain-sure shall. I demand instant communication with my embassy and-"

"You are under arrest for violation of kres territory, attempted theft, unprovoked hostility and suspected complicity in the snatching of seventeen kres vessels," Freefall interrupted coldly. "Make ready to be taken."

Lamidia tried a smile, forcing her lips upwards in an effort to look inviting, but saw instant disgust in her enemy's eyes. She snarled in response and felt her bloodied lip curled back from her teeth. "Agreed, you win, kres. This time, cheat it. But I swear on my Luck that you'll regret it. I'll drakking make you sorry. Make you pay at any odds and make it deeply hurt. Do you hear, kres? Do you?"



Freefall shook his head wearily and made a curt gesture to cut the communication. His image of the dishevelled mermaridian Leader vanished. He watched his display intently until the Reaper was in tow and his strike teams had boarded it safely. The strike senior relayed an image of Lamidia being dragged to the hold, biting and cursing. Freefall sighed and finally relaxed. A faint murmur of relief and congratulations sounded around the nest.

"Well done, sah," Clearwing said fervently, and he managed a smile for his newest officer before projecting his voice through the ship.

"It's never a solo effort. You all did super. I need to be able to trust my crew and I do. Completely. There'll be a docking bonus from me on set down. Don't spend it all in bars." He waited for the murmur of amusement to subside. "I also need to thank our newest officer. I'm certain-sure you'll congratulate our new sub-plus, Clearwing Pinion. Her gain in rank is deeply deserved."

He looked down at Clearwing with a grin and she gaped back, while her hair stirred in embarrassment at the very public and unexpected promotion. Freefall laughed and the rest of the crew reached out with friendly minds or voices to express their pleasure. However, the general delight was marred by a touch of anger. Freefall managed to keep smiling, although he could feel his forehead crease. His mind traced the thread of malice into the link. He moved casually, as though stretching, and called up an ID. There were two crewmen floating there, just out of sight, Sub BackBeak and his older cousin, ex-Data Senior BackBeak.

No surprise there, he mused, but not good either. Why does the aristocracy think it owns the fleet and can simply buy rank for its useless offspring? He sighed and stretched as his chair returned to its default position. Because it does and it can. Drak, where did I glide off course with those two?

Freefall stretched again and almost groaned as fatigue hit him. Clearwing caught his eye with a shy smile, but he had no smiles left to return. "Good work, folks," he stated. "You're all on-rest. Shift crew has the nest."

Freefall rose slowly and had to concentrate to push himself across the open space and into his quarters. He exchanged a few words while drifting across the nest, but didn't pause as he usually would. Instead he pulsed straight to his quarters and stepped through his door without looking back.

6

Hopes and Dreams

Clearwing watched Freefall's hasty departure with a frown. His unguarded emotions were easy to read and she was disturbed by his lack of satisfaction in their victory. He projected more than unhappiness. Instead, he was consumed by a sense of failure. The nest cleared and then started to refill as rostered crew arrived, but Clearwing floated beside her station without noticing. She was so preoccupied by concern for the Leader that she missed the greeting from Mid-Plus Plover, who was relieving her.

"Hey," the Mid-Plus repeated loudly with a delighted grin. "I said congratulations, duckling. I've never heard of anyone being promoted during their first shift before."

"Oh." Clearwing's blonde hair stirred and she silently cursed as more floated free. "Thanks. I guess I'm just lucky. Good shift." She pushed herself quickly away from any more praise and entered the link so fast she almost pulsed herself into Senior Snowbeak.

He was floating just past the entrance and his mind admitted that he had been waiting for her. He raised his com to send a moderate surge that Clearwing copied and they wafted along the link together.

Gull nodded coldly to the two BackBeaks as the couple floated past, but Clearwing ignored them. She felt a breath of malice, like a cold breeze passing, before the pair were left behind. Most of her attention was on her Senior, floating at her side. They continued in silence, while she wondered what she'd done wrong.

"First blood," Gull snapped and Clear flinched. "The first you've seen, yes?"

"Apologies, sah, I'll be tougher-"

"Please, Sub-plus. Such would greatly concern me. Death is never pleasant and it never should be."

The young officer shifted her thoughts to consider this as they floated slowly along the link. "I know other species call kres too peaceful. They often times say that because we hate to fight we make terrible soldiers, but I just don't believe it. We can defend ourselves if we must. Arck Sharpeye proved that."

"Certain-sure," Gull agreed. "It's all due to him that we hold more planets than any other sentients."

"Those are interesting words, sah. Is that how you judge this? That we have to hold our planets?"

"Yes, young Clearwing Pinion, I do. That's truly why I joined the fleet. Why did you join?"

"I wanted to travel," Pinion said in the same irritatingly fresh tone as the fleet recruiting visual.

Gull laughed and she smiled in response. "Sah, I want to ask you somesuch."

"Ask."

"After we rammed that first Harvester, did you know I was distressed? I truly needed distracting when you told me to run data lock. How did you manage to be there at the perfect time?"

Gull grunted. "That's a senior's job, but sad to state I can't take full credit this time. I knew you were upset, but only because Freefall frond-passed your emotions."

"The leader noticed? In the middle of all else?"

"That's his job. And he's good at it."

"He's perfect," Clearwing murmured, and Gull twisted sharply to study her, until her hair tugged against its braid again.

"He's a fine leader," the Senior said softly, "with huge potential. The best in the fleet." Gull's mind underlined his respect for Freefall, while reminding Clearwing to keep her own admiration strictly professional.

Her eyes re-focused amid a rustle of escaping curls. How utterly mortifying. She risked a glance, but it seemed the Senior hadn't noticed her embarrassment. Well, he was old, already middle aged and possibly prone to sudden losses of hearing and sight.

"Sah," she said loudly, forcing herself to make eye contact. "If Freefall's the best, why does he always work so hard to prove it? He doesn't seem to have any give in him and, despite his control, he's wound terribly tight. He's super critical of himself. It's like he all times has to do more. Achieve more. Why?"

Gull winced then quickly scowled at Clear. "Interesting questions. You're most dangerous when it comes to any data chase, Sub-Plus. That's why the leader bartered for you, you know. He used his entire crew quota for three cycles, because you were the best graduate in your year."

"Me? The leader bartered for me? But I was only fifty-sixth in my year."

"Fifty-sixth in all, from twenty planets, but your data tests were far superior. Your console skills were the very best and Freefall needs a top data senior to match the rest of his crew."

Clearwing felt an unexpected glow and her questions about the Leader vanished. "Truly? Me? Data Senior one day? Are you certain-sure?"

"I'm not noted for my random guesses."

"Of course not, sah." Clearwing gripped her main plait and held it still. "I'd like to win further promotion. Please thank the Leader for his confidence."

They wafted on in silence, but only briefly. Clear ducked her head and tried to sound casual. "Does he always bid so high with his crew quota?"

Gull twisted sideways to stare hard at her and the furrows in his brow deepened. She pinched her hair tight and tried not to panic. Why did her questions always cause trouble?

"You seem most curious about Freefall."

"Of course. He's a fascinating puzzle. For example, he must have been the best graduate in his year?"

Gull pursed his lips, but his frown eased. "He scored tens or high nines in every discipline. He was a most fine student and won the Honor Dagger."

Clearwing's com surged and she curved in front of the Senior, then stopped so quickly he ran her down. They collided and hurtled together across the empty link. They rebounded from a curving wall and she felt the brief tug of gravity as her foot slipped into a corridor. Their momentum freed her and she twisted slowly back to mid-link. Gull was now glaring at her, but she truly didn't care. "Honor Dagger? Not the Honor Sword? Are you claiming someone bettered him?"

"Calm," the Senior chided, and Clearwing's hair stirred yet again.

She ducked her head in belated apology and her fronds tucked submissively against her neck as she awkwardly pushed away from her superior.

His cynically amused expression returned. "I'm afraid it's true. Freefall got the Dagger. He was second in his year, not the leader. That seems to surprise you."

"Mmmm. Yes, because he's so brilliant, but in other terms, no. I guess that's the person he seems driven to beat? But I still don't understand the guilt I feel from him. He yearns to atone for... something."

And someone, Gull added, the bitter thought slipping past his mental control to make Clear draw a sharp breath.

Who?

This time it was Gull who slammed into Clearwing. She screeched when he grabbed her by the upper arms and held her hard while they collided with the wall, before spinning back to the centre of the link. His eyes held her's, just as firmly as his hands gripped her biceps.

"My turn to ask, Sub-plus. What do you call someone full of questions?"

"A data tek," Clear whispered, but he shook her by the shoulders.

"Or a spy." Gull's fingers dug deeper and she bit back a whimper. "How did you trick such a thought from me? Did you go any deeper? Are you a spy? TELL ME."

His fronds flicked forward to wrap around one of Clear's and she arched back. He shook her again until she floated limply, staring at her crazed Senior.

Do you work for the Arck? Or another faction? Do you plan to harm Freefall? Why such interest in him?

Clearwing felt her teeth lock and her mind closed just as tight. No-one rummaged through her head without permission. She heard Gull laugh, but all she could see were his eyes, as light as ash and filling her world. His voice filled her head too, but that touch was infinitely heavier. She gagged and tasted acid, along with panic. How could she fight such an experienced mind?

Don't the Senior warned. Tell me what you want with the Leader.

It took less than a second for Clear to consider her options. "I admire him" she choked and closed her eyes while her mind admitted how much she liked Freefall. It was the most embarrassing moment of her life, which was truly saying something.

A minute passed before Clearwing noticed that her frond was free and the Senior was laughing again. "Apologies, chick" he finally managed and she opened her eyes. Gull looked rueful and offered her a deep bow. "I'm an old cynic and I've clearly lost all memory of being young. I regret scaring you and hope you can forgive me."

Clear rubbed her upper arms and bit her lip. "I hope so too. But that was against all Fleet rules, Senior."

"Regulations are just text, Sub-plus. This ship is real and it faces real dangers. I'm charged with its security, which means I will do absolutely anything to keep it safe. My job is paramount to me. Do you understand?"

Clear sighed to herself, but had to admit that she did understand. Her job had always come first too, at least until recently. She pushed her lips upwards in a faint smile and Gull responded by slapping her on the shoulder.

"My thanks, Clearwing. I see that we share a passion. For our work and I fear that trying to hide information from you is like trying to keep a wren from water. In apology for my earlier suspicion, I'm going to trust you, but you must show true discretion. This information was stripped from public record by Arck Sharpeye and must never be repeated. Understood?"

"Understood, sah."

"Freefall drives himself fiercely in all ways, as you noted. He pushes himself so hard... because of treachery."

"Treachery?" Clearwing was shocked and fascinated, her anger at Gull forgotten.

"That's right, chick. A betrayal of the most total kind. Freefall was too trusting and aided the escape of a traitor who moved against his people, his family and his friends. He left Free behind, to carry the scars of a disHonor he never deserved."

"Who would do such?"

Gull grimaced and his eyes, which were distant with anger, focused sharply again. "I've said more than should be spoken, but it was the top graduate in Freefall's year who cut him so deep. That exile was once his most trusted family, but now fights for the other side."

7

Violation

Nightwing woke gradually and his mind eased into the new day. He gave a sleepy mental command to cancel the morning chime and raise the lights. He stretched and threw an arm across the mattress. The gesture reminded him of the puffy alien and he turned toward her, to find himself alone in bed. He swivelled sharply, scanning the room, but then relaxed when he saw her on the floor. She was still asleep, wrapped in what seemed to be his spare cover.

Nightwing smiled and swung himself out of bed. He moved to crouch beside the strange female and shook his head at the coldness of the floor against his bare feet. He leaned forward to wake her and then stopped, staring in surprise. Dark hair was spread around a face that looked very different without the strange clothing that lay in a heap beside her. Nightwing studied the tresses spread over her curled forearm and across the floor in surprise. Darsey's hair was not the same black as the padding that had covered it. Instead, it was a deep red and he wondered if the odd shade could possibly be natural. His eyes strayed to her face and he rocked back on his heels.

The alien's features were the most pleasant surprise he'd had in a long time. Without the bulky padding now discarded behind her, Darsey was strikingly lovely. Nightwing tipped forward again to balance on the balls of his feet and stared with unrestrained curiosity. Even in the low light of first-waking, her features looked subtly different to any he had seen before. Her face was unique and he bent even closer. Her skin tone and color were exotic, but other differences were less obvious.

Nightwing smiled with delight as he tilted his head sideways to continue his study. He had never altered his face to suit the prevailing fashion and he found Darsey's unusual features refreshing. He tried to imagine them animated, with those blue eyes open, and grinned at the image. He leaned closer still until their faces almost touched. At this range, he could see the faintest of small, brown circles scattered across the smooth arch of her nose. She smelt equally exotic and he sniffed deeply, his nasal blade wrinkling as her eyes opened.

They were heavy with sleep and, for a fleeting moment, she answered his smile with one of her own. Dimples appeared beneath her strangely high cheekbones, but then Darsey's eyes widened and she reacted with unexpected speed. Her hands flashed out to push him away and her fists hit so hard he rocked backwards and fell.

"What the hell are you doing?" she yelled, propelling herself away from him on hands and heels, to slither the width of the tiny atrium and skid to a halt against the door.

Darsey rose quickly to stand with her back to its field and wrapped his blanket more tightly around her. She balanced on the balls of her feet, poised and ready to strike again, but Nightwing rose slowly from the floor with his empty arms held out to either side and hoped she understood the gesture. She sank back onto her heels, so she seemed to accept that he wasn't a threat, but her expression remained toxic.

"I don't like waking up to find you doing a fitted sheet impersonation. You were all over me!"

Nightwing rubbed the heel of his hand against the spot where she'd punched his chest and grimaced. Was that going to bruise? Despite his com shield? He frowned, then pushed such oddities aside to concentrate on the angry girl. "Truly, I was just looking," he explained. "In the most friendly of ways."

"You are so arrogant. That's not how friends behave on my world."

Darsey tossed her hair back and Wing realized he was grinning. He covered the ridiculous response with a cough. "It is from now on. I'm your owner, recall? My world is now yours and my happiness should become your most vital concern."

Darsey's cheeks flushed and Nightwing stared, fascinated by the change of color. "Your happiness thrills me, Master," she sneered, and he frowned at her sarcastic tone, but strolled to Pertwing's curved gray console without responding. Looking too closely at the alien was strangely unsettling. Could she be some type of bio weapon?

His computer sent a silent caution, and he could sense her alarm at the latest addition to their quarters. Wing stroked the shimmering console in apology and called up the manual control interface. A tap on the arm interrupted him and he looked around to see Darsey, still draped in his spare cover.

"I'm not a slave," she stated clearly, and he ducked his head in belated apology.

"I know. I spoke to joke."

"It's not funny, Nightwing."

"I see that. And I meant what I said earlier. You're free to go anywhen you want, but I ask you to use some sense in this. Just wait 'til Greon forgets our deal and has no thought to check on us. While waiting, would you please monitor meals and cleansing, so that if he does check the mind print on them will be yours? Trust me in this. Claiming his attention in any way would be a calamity."

Darsey chewed her lower lip and studied Wing. Her strange blue eyes held his without flinching and then her head bobbed up and down. "All right," she agreed, "it's a deal. But don't order me around and keep your distance in the morning."

Nightwing laughed and bowed, offering her the full obeisance due first-level nobility. The irony was lost on her, but he appreciated it anyway. "It shall be as you command, My Lady." He looked at her again and for the first time saw more than an annoyance, or an exotic puzzle. He saw a girl, holding a sheet so tightly her knuckles were white. He shifted awkwardly and gestured at the end of the room. "You can't have slept well last shift. Why don't you use the bed for a time? It's still early-as and I need to run a system check before I teach you console use."

Darsey stared at him once more, solemn and unsettling, before her shoulders jerked, up then down. "Sure, why not. Thanks." She turned to the bed and took three steps to reach it. She pulled back the single cover in use and fell beneath it, still wearing her gown and the other cover. She rolled away from Wing and he waited a minute before turning back to his computer.

"You could have stopped the shove that knocked me over," he murmured reproachfully to the machine.

"I apologise," it purred, just as quietly. "The female was quick and I was monitoring elsewhere."

Nightwing grunted in response, but was already busy checking Greon's position. The Leader had left his cabin and Wing tensed when he found the pirate's tag close to his own quarters. Guano. He had no need to start his day with a visit from that psychopath. Fresh dread turned his throat dry. If Greon saw Darsey without her padded suit...

Curse the girl. She truly was a complication and the sooner he found her a fresh home the safer they'd both be. Wing flicked a finger to call up a visual of his Leader and Greon appeared in front of him like a slap in the face. The bustwing raised his arm and lightning cracked from his wrist.

Nightwing flinched, but it was another voice that cried out in pain and protest. A mutt lurched into view and fell to his knees in front of Greon. The creature huddled there, wrapped around his pain as if trying to hold in his whimpers.

Wing's hand cut through the image and it vanished. He closed his eyes and pressed his knuckles into his lids. Curse Greon to the seven hells. "Pert, when did I last interfere?"

"Yesterday, when you bought the slave?"

"And before that?"

"A day earlier, during data review."

"Drak." Wing tipped his head back, breathing hard. There was nothing he could do about Greon's morning stroll through mutt alley. Another diversion from Nightwing, or even another maintenance alert just when the Leader was causing pain, was bound to ruffle feathers. Greon was no genius, but his paranoia made him dangerous to thwart. The mutt would have to cope alone today.

Nightwing shut his mind to their plight and instead requested the results of Pertwing's latest scans. One looked promising and he prioritised it before reaching through the colors in front of him and into his personal file. He started his usual check of the system tags that were unique to his console. They were deeply hidden and offered information that a pirate senior should never have been able to access. He was soon engrossed in working through their layers without alerting Greon. He used all of his console's power and his own expertise to continue his mission. He had to stay sane and safe, despite his spying, because his people needed him.

Nightwing was tired again by the time he finished and his temples were tight with tension. The strain of hiding his activities from Greon was getting worse. He leaned back in the soft crimson seat he had decompressed earlier and it moulded itself around his supine form. He belatedly remembered Darsey, another complication in his life, especially as her unexpected beauty was an additional secret to be kept from the Leader. Nightwing sighed and twisted his head against the chair's support to look at his bed.

Darsey had turned to face him, but was still asleep. He idly wondered whether it would be safer to retreat to the door before waking her again. He raised a hand to rub his tired eyes, but stopped in mid-movement. An unexpected shimmer caught his attention. The soft sheen of the bedding was reflecting from under Darsey's eyelids. Nightwing abruptly realized that she was watching him while pretending to sleep. He looked casually toward the console, but snapped his head back instantly. This time, he caught her with her eyes half open. He raised an eyebrow in sardonic inquiry, but she covered the moment well. She offered a sleepy smile and then yawned.

"Is it time to get up yet, boss?"

"That depends what you want. If watching me is your aim, please stay in bed."

Darsey's lips tightened, but she covered the gesture with another yawn and rolled out of bed. She pulled the extra cover with her and wrapped it close once again. "So how do I use this console, master?"

"Decompress a seat and I'll teach you some."

Darsey strolled across to join Nightwing without enthusiasm. She seemed almost bored and still mostly asleep. Even a basic lesson was likely to be slow. Wing bit back a sigh and gestured for the primitive to stand close to him.

"What about breakfast?" she pouted, stopping well short of his chair.

Nightwing bit back more than a sigh, before forcing politer words past his teeth. "Breakfast is a good-as-any place to start. You can learn how to access systems, but first you need somewhat to sit on. This is how you decompress furniture. Start with the index to see all that's available."

He reached into the haze that rippled above the curved console, biting back impatience to move his hands slowly in a pattern that was easily seen. A series of images appeared in response, tiny holograms of seats, couches and-

"So many beds?" Darsey protested.

Nightwing looked at her seriously. "You can never have too many beds."

She hesitated, but then hitched her shoulders up and down again. "I'm sure it saves on having to change the bedding," she agreed airily, and this time Wing let his amusement show, laughing outright.

"Actually, that's easy-as. Just throw the sheets in compression storage. When the molecules are compacted, a filter excludes any dirt which gets recycled. Ah, here we are. What do you think of this?"

Wing's index finger stabbed at one of the images and then bent to beckon it closer. The hologram expanded, while those surrounding it contracted. Darsey flinched when a plush chair with a bright range of comfort zones appeared before her.

"Are you trying to give me a migraine? No, never. Thanks anyway. I'll take... this."

She reached past Wing and into the display, then beckoned an item closer. "How do I decompress it?"

"Shut your hand around it and fist your fingers as you pull it close, but take care. You must always think where you plan to place\- you're going to sit on such?" Nightwing looked at the hologram for the first time and felt his nose wrinkle. "It looks like the reject leftover from a lab, or a most formal nest. My breakfasts are going to taste far too serious-"

"Your breakfasts will taste just the way I want them to taste, okay? I like the chair."

Darsey closed a hand around her choice and jerked it toward her. Nightwing made a startled noise while his arms rose around her. She straightened into a hasty hug as he swung her in a tight circle to land on the other side of him. A skeletal chair appeared and fell where she had been standing. It hit with a crash of metal limbs and the floor vibrated beneath them.

"Oh," Darsey gulped against Nightwing's chest and he could feel her shaking. She held on tight for a brief moment, before pushing away.

"Your thoughts were full of where you wanted to sit and that's where the chair went," Nightwing explained as calmly as possible. He paused to let her shock pass and took care to speak slowly. "Unfortunately, it was also where you were standing. Do you see? Next time, specify a drop spot that won't crush you."

Darsey took another step back. "Gee, somewhere I'm not standing. D'you think?"

"Yes, most definite."

"How about a spot where you're standing?"

Nightwing almost smiled, before realizing the flighty alien needed education rather than encouragement. "That would be most unwise. You know nothing of this ship and its crew and I'm your best chance to remedy that lack. Please recall that you need me."

Darsey grimaced, but kept her attention on the hologram. "Let's get started, shall we?" She stared at the console while settling into the contoured support of the spare, metallic seat she'd so nearly brought down on her head.

Nightwing kept his gaze on the images too and his voice calm when he called up the basic breakfast menu. He had to suppress a sigh while he settled into the familiar comfort of his own chair. He wished he had never saved Darsey. She was an unnecessary complication in his already complicated life.

However, Wing found it hard to remain annoyed as the lesson progressed. The primitive struggled to follow the simplest explanations and his anger ebbed to be replaced by frustration.

Darsey was unable to grasp the most basic of hierarchies, despite his repeated demonstrations. Although Nightwing had known her people's technology was primitive, it had never occurred to him that humans might actually be mentally limited. He had assumed her species was younger than his, but otherwise of similar intellect. However, as his attempts to teach her faltered, he realized that if Darsey was typical of her people, humans were severely handicapped indeed. He regarded her with growing pity, but she refused to meet his eye and looked panicked as she frowned at the display. He showed her again how to move between systems and activate commands, but she seemed increasingly confused. He ordered their breakfast and insisted that she specify some of the menu, but she ate in bewildered silence. She looked too lost in the complexities of the console to register the presence of food.

After breakfast, Nightwing decompressed clothes and dressed himself, but Darsey was still unable to copy him. She simply shook her head when he offered her index control. Her early enthusiasm had vanished to leave her slumped over her metal chair like a damsel on a sacrifice claw. Nightwing sank glumly back and tugged on his boots as Darsey concentrated on the continuing lesson.

"So," she said slowly, and the frown creasing her forehead softened slightly, "the ship's computer has my... neural pattern thing and can hear certain thoughts if I think them the right way, whatever that is, but only if I'm within range of a console field. So, I guess that means that we must be within range of your console now." She grinned triumphantly at Nightwing, delighted by her reasoning, and he offered a patient smile in response, but his thoughts strayed back to his mission. He needed to stop wasting time. His patience was always limited and he had little left for a useless primitive.

8

Snakes in Space

Darsey closed her aching eyes and prayed for patience. If the pirate didn't lose some of his smug condescension she was going to have to hit him. She spent several seconds lost in a day dream of pummelling Nightwing and that was enough to help her slip back into her vapid disguise. "How far can this field thing extend?" she cooed, all awe and confusion. Could she possibly hate herself any more?

"What distance do you want?" the kres asked, biting off each crisp word as if he was eating an apple. Darsey's fingers twitched and longed to curl into fists. "It's possible," he continued slowly, "to get total ship cover, but that would draw extra power. Such a drain would upset Greon and our Leader is unpleasant when upset. My console control already covers these rooms and the corridors around. I'm Senior, so I'm privileged."

Darsey nodded slowly and ran a finger absently through the tingle of the console field. "You're second-in-command, right?"

Nightwing considered her question. "Yes, I'm second."

"Why don't you rate more living space?"

"I do. I can buy more anywhen I want. There are two reasons I don't. First, it's a waste of credit and second, all the better chambers are nest-side and close to-"

"Greon?"

They exchanged a grimace and then both laughed.

"Certain-sure. These rooms keep me far from the Leader and close to the crew. Getting to know my crew is important. I think some of them like me well enough not to kill me."

Darsey studied him uncertainly and Nightwing laughed cynically at her disbelief. "Ye, they certain-sure would murder me if they could. Your innocence reveals much about your people and their chances of survival off world. I hope they never try to take passage to other systems, because they'll be tweets before razorbacks. Do you not understand the most basic law of hierarchies? If someone with high rank gets killed, there are many promotions. That flow down makes such murders incredibly popular."

Darsey nodded seriously and tried to control the heat climbing the back of her neck. Nightwing's arrogant assumption of superiority made her burn. Her fury was increasingly hard to contain and she had to struggle to widen her eyes in apparent appreciation. He smiled condescendingly and tapped into further layers of console control. Darsey watched closely and noted the names of available functions. She kept her expression vacant as he led her deeper into the ship's systems, the strange bracelet on his wrist gleaming among swirling holograms.

"Do you see how to work through to what you wish?" Nightwing finally sighed, before turning to look at Darsey with a pitying smile.

"I'm not sure," she choked. "Would you show me some more?"

"Hmmm." Nightwing chewed his lip without turning back to the console. Oops. Darsey tried a vacant smile, but it was too late.

"That's enough instruction for now," he said brusquely. "Is there any else you wish? My shift starts in nine minutes."

She gestured without hesitation to the gold bracelet circling his wrist and tried for another innocent smile. "It's pretty."

Nightwing's eyes narrowed while he studied her intently. "Pretty useful, which you've clearly deduced."

Darsey blinked and stared at the kres blankly. Her face felt as slack as soggy pasta, but he gave a sardonic grin and stabbed a finger sideways in his gesture for 'no'. Their eyes locked until Nightwing winked.

Darsey laughed ruefully and raised her hands in sudden surrender. She'd pushed too hard and it seemed the arrogant pirate wasn't completely foolish. It was time to change tactics. "Okay, you got me. The bangle looks useful. What is it?"

"It's called a com and it holds a communicator, met-enhancement field, blaster, basic meds, compression storage unit, pulse initiator and console interface."

"Can I have one?"

"Maybe, but later. It needs must be earned."

Darsey's empty stomach knotted further. "How?" she asked hesitantly, but Nightwing glared at her concern.

"Not by doing any deed you don't wish to. It's simple. Just resist your impulse to hit me over the head while I'm in-sleep."

"What about when you're awake?"

"That's no joke, Darsey. Try to hold in mind that on this ship I'm the best asset you've got."

"Mmmm, I can see you've got plenty to offer," she answered. "And you know what's going on around here, so perhaps you can help me. There's something I don't understand. Okay, okay, there are several somethings I don't understand, but this is the weirdest. Why do we speak the same language? I thought you were using some sort of translator, but now I'm not sure. It looks and sounds like we're talking English."

"You're near right. In truth, we're speaking Bridge."

"Bridge?" Darsey repeated sceptically, but Nightwing smiled in approval.

"That's good. You should question everything you hear. However, in this case, it's true. How do you know to believe it? Apart from the fact that we're communicating? Well, this truth is too bizarre to be a lie. No one would attempt to fake anything so mind-lost. We can understand each other because every sentient race speaks Bridge. Some grammar is different, but we all share a language that dates from before our first out-world contact."

"That's ridiculous. How could different species from separate planets have a common language? It's not the only language spoken on my planet and it's certainly not the first language of most humans. Why would it be this Bridge?"

Nightwing shrugged and stretched so that his chair lengthened around him. "That's the question and it's been asked multi times, but never answered. At least not in full. The 'how' is easy. Clearly the language development of every sentient species has been stirred with."

"What? That's impossible. The demands of nurturing a language so that it reaches the form you want and then spreading it through a multi-lingual world, they'd be huge. A logistical nightmare. Even trying to hold a dialect against regional variations would take constant oversight. Spreading it around a planet would need social manipulation on a global scale, right down to encouraging one country's industrial and military development ahead of others without being too obvious about it..."

Darsey stopped in sudden horror and her words dropped away, left behind by her thoughts. Pieces of history fell into place beside the evidence of her own ears. A huge job, yes, but not impossible.

"Tricky," Nightwing agreed, "but not impossible. They did a nova job, whoever they were. They did it on at least seven planets and they did it for a long time."

Darsey simply gaped. Her masks finally slipped, but she was only distantly aware of them falling away. Stupidity and false admiration were erased by genuine awe. She shook her head and tried to absorb Nightwing's claim. "Are you saying some unknown aliens have been in my solar system? That they lived on Earth, interfering with our language?"

"Ye. And if that fails to ruffle your feathers, this certain-sure will. They also altered your DNA."

"What?"

"Give it some thought. You've met two new species that look human-as. Convergent evolution couldn't begin to explain it. My people aren't even mammals."

Darsey gaped numbly, searching the face of the stranger in front of her who suddenly seemed more alien than ever.

"We kres are placental avians," he explained. "There were never mammals on my home planet, Kresynt. Birds alone evolved, but look at us."

Nightwing spread his hand above one of Darsey's to hide her fingers beneath his. "Mine may be bigger, but otherwise they're perfect matched. We're similar in every way and that's impossible. It's certainly no accident. It must be deliberate. There are seven sentient species, if we add your people-"

"If?"

"I'm still unsure. You play stupid rather well. Anyall, every species shares almost identical gene codes and same-as technology. Your spaceflight may still be primitive, but at least you've got such. The oldest space faring race we know is the gentik and they first launched only 76,000 years past. That's yesterday on a galactic scale."

"It's statistically impossible," Darsey managed to agree, despite a dry throat. She shook her head and grimaced. "Seven sentient species, all evolving physically and technologically over such a short period... the odds against it are enormous. Unless life is such a common occurrence that new species are developing almost constantly-"

"No. We're certain-sure that's not so. If it was, we'd see evidence of such, but the only species we find are suspiciously close to ourselves in genes and culture. Life isn't uncommon, but its development to high intelligence is. Someone has interfered with evolution in our sector, Darsey."

"But... why?"

Nightwing's look was challenging and he gave a wicked grin. "Why, indeed. The answer to that could earn you a billion credits. That's what the gentik offer to any who can explain such manipulation. It's a question every sentient would like answered, but no one has come up with a convincing truth. What's your thought?"

Nightwing asked the question seriously and Darsey realized that for the first time, he wasn't being condescending. He was genuinely interested in her opinion. The idea was so huge it was daunting, but she could see one thing quite clearly.

"They want us all to interact as easily as possible. With each other, or perhaps just with them. Presumably, they spoke Bridge before they guided other languages to the same form, but that's not really important, because the language is just secondary. Genetic manipulation that dates back to the dawn of our species is mind blowing. It's taken millennia of commitment and there must be some reason for it. Do we know whether these manipulators are benevolent or malevolent? They can't be indifferent to us or they wouldn't have gone to all this trouble. We must be of use to them..."

Nightwing smiled at her with apparent admiration. "We call them the Shapers and that was a most succinct summation from someone who can't yet order crisp from a console."

Darsey ignored the heat spreading up her cheeks, because being caught out by the kres seemed suddenly unimportant. The thought of alien interference in human evolution was profoundly disturbing and she shuddered.

"I know," Nightwing agreed with feeling. "It's almost too huge to comprehend and scary-as. What do they chase? I agree with you that they must want somthing. Many kres claim our similarity is due to the benevolence of the Gods, but I thin-"

He was interrupted by a flashing globe that appeared above the console. His mouth snapped shut and the strands framing his throat rippled like seaweed, rising to point directly at the wailing icon.

Darsey leaned forward until the metal arms of her chair ground into her elbows. Was he hearing a message in his mind? Was that telepathy, or something she could do with a console too?

Nightwing blinked and slowly rose. His expression was calm, but distant. The easy camaraderie she had felt when they discussed sentient evolution vanished. His eyes focused on her again, but their warmth was gone. "It's the t'ssaa."

"Who are the t'ssaa?"

He turned away to tap the console and its multiple images disappeared, leaving only the basic index. "Practice if you can, but don't break anything. I expect to be busy. The t'ssaa are the most strange of all sentients and complete unpredictables." He spun to step through the door, without any reassurance, or even a farewell.

Darsey was suddenly alone.

She poked her tongue out after her owner and the juvenile gesture made her laugh. She turned back to the console with her good humour restored. "Okay, computer-"

"My name is Pertwing," the console interrupted in a throaty contralto.

"Computer," Darsey repeated firmly, ignoring the sexy persona that Nightwing had given his machine. "I want you to close this level and open data relay." Her fingers flicked authoritatively through the floating display and it obeyed the gestures she had copied from Nightwing.

A hologram of the galaxy faded, to be replaced by visuals of the ship and its present position. Another ship was rapidly approaching. The t'ssaa, she guessed. It was the same fluted diamond shape as the Bandit, but twice the size, and its hull was a multi-faceted green instead of black. It reflected light with the fluidity of close-set scales and the ship seemed to scintillate within chain mail armor. It rippled across the stars and turned to match the Bandit's course. Darsey realized that the two ships must be communicating and flicked through the ship's systems to find external links. Her finger beckoned in the activation signal, but nothing happened.

"Computer-"

"Pertwing."

"Whichever. I want to hear what they're saying. Relay the inter-ship communication."

"It is inappropriate for a sub-rank alien to be accessing these systems."

"Nightwing left me console access, didn't he?"

"Yes, but he assumed you had only primitive knowledge of its process. If he had better scanners, he would know that you are truly intelligent and should be treated with care."

Darsey tapped a finger against pursed lips and squinted at the bright projection as she considered the problem of a stubborn, sweet-talking computer program. She rubbed her eyes distractedly and, as she did, the display dimmed to a more comfortable level. She blinked in surprise and Pertwing virtually purred in response.

"My gift, clever alien. Your vision has color saturation plus. It must cause you some discomfort in this setting. Is your natural environment more muted?"

"Thank you," Darsey agreed neutrally. "Now please contact Nightwing and we'll let him clarify my console access."

There was no reply and Darsey realized that she had at least unsettled Pertwing by refusing to be diverted by it. She opened her mouth to ask again, but, before she could, Nightwing's clipped voice interrupted her.

"I've just made nest fall and it's busy. What?"

Darsey answered quickly, before the console could state its case. "Sorry, Wing. I just want to learn how to order breakfast, but Pertwing is questioning my console access. Am I allowed to use this thing or not?"

"As I said, so it is. Pert, give her access, love. Just don't let her blow up the ship and Darsey, never in-talk while I'm at work."

He abruptly terminated the link and Darsey smiled triumphantly at the featureless console. "You heard him, computer. Give."

There was a momentary pause and Darsey cleared her throat, but, before she could repeat the order, Greon appeared in mid-air. He flashed into life mere centimetres in front of her face and she jumped in shock. She rolled her eyes at the console and settled again to watch the conversation.

"Ah, here's my tardy senior," Greon growled and looked to one side as Nightwing moved into view. "This is Leader Payiss and he believes we have a kres in-ship, Nightwing."

"And do we, sah?" the kres asked sardonically.

They both looked out of the projection toward Darsey and she jumped again as a voice responded from behind her.

"Obviousssly."

The hair on the back of her neck crawled at the hissing reply and she turned slowly to study the image behind her. The speaker was as bizarre as his voice suggested and his kinship with reptiles immediately obvious. His green skin was smooth, but carried the faint pattern of vestigial scales. It stretched across a hairless head and his face was not flat like the other sentients she had met, but jutted forward in a triangular snout. Pleated folds of skin ran from the top of his head to the back of his neck. His mouth was simply a lipless gash and his eyes were violet, with cat-like slits. Those dark pupils were curiously unfixed and, as Darsey watched, they slid sideways to lie horizontally, instead of upright. Two flared nostrils sat above the alien's mouth and a forked tongue flickered briefly to taste the air before vanishing again.

"We have interesst in your kres. We wish to buy it."

Darsey froze and then her head swivelled to study Nightwing. He stood perfectly still and his face was calm, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. He said nothing as he waited for Greon's answer. The Leader fingered his upper lip while considering the offer and her heart clenched. The image seemed to darken and when Darsey shook her head to clear it, everything spun instead. What would happen to her if Wing was sold? Could a slave own another slave? Or was she about to become the property of a giant iguana?

Greon finally stirred, little more than a silhouette in Darsey's blackened sight, but she recognised his hand when it jerked from side-to-side. "Apologies, but such a sale is impossible. I'm always open to trade, but Nightwing is my senior and has value plus."

"We will pay most well. You are mermaridian and credit is better than battle, yesss?"

Greon hesitated and his mouth creased, in the middle of each lip while he thought again about both the offer and the threat. Darsey closed her eyes as sight finally deserted her. She didn't know the rules of being a slave, but she certainly wasn't ready for a new owner.

The Leader's voice was thick with fury when he finally answered, but still each of his blurred words was polite. "All sensible people prefer trade to war, Leader, but only if the trade satisfies. What do you wish of my Senior?"

Darsey looked back to the t'ssaa and its tongue flickered again, as if it wanted to taste the opposition. "We are sscientists. We want to sstudy kres. I observe it is male. We will pay well for it."

"So you said, but he is of too much use to part with-" Greon was interrupted by a furious hiss and his top lip drew back from his teeth in response. "I mean this, Spawn of the Father, but I'm still looking to make a trade."

Darsey turned back to the t'ssaa and her heart almost stopped as the frills of skin sitting against its neck flew forward and up. A crest of scarlet and gold appeared around its head. The vivid crown stood stiff and straight to quiver with rage. It rattled as it shook and that ominous noise combined with its color and size made Darsey flinch. She slid from her chair to stumble back against the cool curve of the console.

"Do you still wish to watch?" Pertwing asked softly, but its pointed question was lost in the noise of the t'ssaa. The percussive thunder from its crest was joined by a steam train hiss.

"Talk fasssssst," it ordered angrily, and Darsey realized that its body was at battle readiness.

Greon's voice was still calm, but his cheeks had paled. "You wish to learn more of kres and I'm willing to help. You can send a team to my ship and they can complete both full scan and tissue extraction from my Senior. For a price."

The t'ssaa calmed immediately and its crest settled back to its neck with a final rattle of spines. "That may be ssatisfactory. We wish full scan, probe, ssstimuli responsse, sexual responsse and sample collection, including internal tissue."

"Sah," Nightwing protested between clenched teeth, but Greon raised a silencing hand.

"That will be unpleasant for my officer, a true invasion. He may have to rest for a shift and I need compensation for such."

"Yess. We will give ten thousand creditss."

The two leaders stared at each other and Darsey flopped back into her chair. It clanked and quivered beneath her and she settled into it with a metallic groan. The sound almost covered the pirate's softly slurred answer. "Done. Send your team."

The t'ssaa instantly cut the link and vanished, but Greon and Nightwing still hung in front of Darsey. The Leader's mouth stretched happily and he smacked his Senior on the shoulder, so that Wing had to grab the back of Greon's chair to stop himself flying away.

"An excellent trade, despite the snakes' refusal to barter and one I trust we're all keen to fulfill. I'm not ready to fight those lizards, Senior. They're all Luckless, motherless, mad, Arena trash, even worse than drakking Harvesters and more deadly too. But no need to worry. I'll stay close and watch all they do."

Nightwing's mouth twisted in something close to a snarl. "I want fifty percent, you bustwing. Don't say anything and don't yell anything, sah. Fifty percent, or I'll make certain-sure we have to fight for a path out of here." He glowered at Greon and, for once, the Leader was silent.

The mermaridian drummed his fingers on the overstuffed arm of his chair, until it sounded like a distant thunderstorm. The thudding stopped abruptly when he made a fist, but he offered Nightwing a toothy grin.

"Agreed. We both know you need the credit and truly you'll deserve it."

"I will by the time the t'ssaa are done," Darsey's owner said grimly.

He drifted back from the Leader's chair and twisted fluidly despite being weightless. A blast from his com sent him hurtling toward the link and Greon levered his bulk after his Senior with unaccustomed urgency. They both disappeared into its distant throat and Darsey was left staring at a rag-tag crew.

A murmur rose, with quiet comments flowing between consoles and in the closest occupied seat a familiar figure stretched out long legs. Darsey clutched her chair arms, winced and leaned closer to stare at Jileea. It seemed a sardonic smile was the pirate's usual expression, whether she was at work, or trying to kill people.

"I'm pleased they're not curious about mermaridian," Jileea said and her subordinates laughed. "Stay alert, crew. I want data locks on each t'ssaa aboard and one on their ship too. Plot an escape to the closer passage point and keep shields at total power."

The nest hummed with renewed activity and Jileea slowly rose. She looked around, briefly seeming to stare through Darsey, but then a tap of the alien's foot sent her drifting to the Leader's chair. She settled against its rich upholstery and a few of the crew looked up from their projections with obvious surprise. She regarded them coldly and no one challenged her. Instead, they turned back to their work and Jileea relaxed with a sigh.

Darsey flicked a finger and the hologram of the bridge vanished. She was alone again. She sighed and wriggled in her seat, but soon gave up trying to get comfortable. It was irrelevant. Nightwing was nicely distracted and he'd left her with full console control.

"Time to play."

# 9

# Out For A Walk

Darsey was just as happy an hour later, despite her cramped quarters and cut-throat chair. Her efforts to decompress clothing were as successful as her detailed study of the Bandit's interior. She tied the laces of a shimmering vest and sat on the bed to pull on soft black boots. They rose easily to hug her calves and she smoothed down her short purple skirt as she stood.

"All right, Pertwing, am I dressed like a pirate?"

There was no answer from the console. Instead, a new field shimmered through the air and solidified in front of Darsey. It steadied and flattened to offer a perfect reflection. She found herself staring at a mermaridian officer, whose dress was rather subdued, but otherwise accurate.

"Good," Darsey decided, and reached back to sweep her hair from her shoulders and into three separate sections. Her hands deftly pulled strands from the crown of her head, working it back into a plait. She concentrated on the familiar motions rather than what she was planning to do next. The hair flowing past her fingers was soothing and the growing strain in her arms a welcome distraction. She knew her hair was ridiculously long. Most humans spacing as often as Darsey kept their hair cropped short. But then you're always trimming to keep it tidy and it floats all over the place, she mused, before stopping herself mid-thought with a grimace at the mirror.

Liar, she accused, and her reflection looked sadly back. Her flaming plait was a reminder and she knew it. A last memento of the family she'd lost far too soon. Long before she ever saw an alien. Her hands started to shake and she angrily tossed the strand back over her shoulder. She'd been such a fool, seriously believing she had nothing left to lose. A survey mission out past Jupiter? Why not? She was already dead anyway. . . except Will had brought her back to life. Slowly, painfully, one broken piece at a time and now she clung to that life as tightly as his memory. She sat down hard on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor for a very long time.

Darsey shuddered and the tiny room came back into focus. "Stay alive" she whispered to herself, and then shivered again. She finally rose to stand straight and swiftly finished the tail of the plait, but before she could request a tie for it, she felt sudden heat beneath her hand and its tail twisted into a single curl. She sent a mental query about the interference to Pertwing, but there was no reply.

Darsey rolled her eyes, which she found herself doing a lot with this particular program, and opened her mouth to ask aloud, but the computer answered first. "Fusion field."

"Hmmmm." The young officer took a last look at the hair and her vision misted, but she shrugged angrily, denying the possibility of pain after so many years alone. She tossed the braid back over her shoulder to study herself grimly. Vanity, her reflection reminded her, the long hair's just vanity.

Darsey's morbid thoughts disappeared when the computer cancelled the mirror field. She took a deep breath and managed to drag her mind back to the outing before her.

"Can you make my hair silver?"

The machine was silent and Darsey sensed its reluctance.

"C'mon, Pertwing. I just want to go for a walk, but it won't look good for Nightwing if I get caught."

"Agreed. I can decompress a hologram emitter, but its power is limited. It will give your hair and eyes a silver sheen, but will be useless within thirty cents of another person and will not deceive a scan."

"That's okay. I've already checked where the ship's scanners are. I can avoid them and I'll remember not to cosy up to any pirates I meet. How long will it take for those t'ssaa to study Nightwing?"

"Between ninety minutes and one hour."

"That long?" Darsey asked in surprise. "Perfect. I should be able to find one of your ship's exit globes before they do."

"You are attempting escape," the computer stated flatly.

"Not yet. I need somewhere to escape to first. However, that's not your concern and you won't tell Nightwing about this conversation. I'm logging it in the personal file you helped me create and it remains confidential. Understood?"

"Understood, but I will be most pleased when you escape and are gone. Your use of my facilities is not appreciated."

Darsey merely smiled and waved before stepping from the room. Outside Nightwing's quarters, she took a deep breath and turned in the direction of the link. The temptation to run was huge, but instead she settled into the brisk walk of someone confidently going about her business. She neared another junction and heard the sound of approaching boots. Her heart raced, but her pace remained steady.

A tall figure stepped into the corridor ahead of Darsey and turned to hurry toward the link. She allowed herself to fall back slightly and the silver-haired male seemed unaware of her.

He reached the link and pushed off from the tunnel floor before firing a pulse from his com. Darsey stopped short behind him.

"Damn." She abruptly realized that she had overlooked something obvious when planning her outing. How could she have been so stupid? She snapped her fingers as though she had forgotten something, turning back into the corridor and straight into another crewmember. He was taller than her, but stepped back in alarm.

"I'm sorry" she said automatically, and moved quickly aside to re-establish the distance between them.

He looked up at her and then down again just as fast. His hair was tied back in a long plait of blue, brown and blond, while one downcast eye was gold and the other dark red.

"My apologies, Lady," he said softly. "I am ManDaNiah from Eltok, if you wish to log offence."

Darsey blinked and leaned casually against the wall to hide her bare left wrist, hoping that he hadn't noticed her lack of com. "There was no offence, Mandaniah. I've an urgent task to complete for Greon. Excuse me."

ManDaNiah's mismatched eyes darted sideways at her mention of the Leader and he stepped further back.

"Of course. I meant no offence, sah. Ah... luck with the Leader's errands." He bowed smoothly, but turned away in obvious haste and launched himself into the link.

Darsey tried to walk on, but the urge to run had grown too strong. She sprinted back to Nightwing's cabin and hurled herself at the door. However, she hit a solid surface and static flared as she bounced back across the passage.

"Ooof."

Darsey collided with the far wall and slid down it to sit on the floor, too winded to move. She shook her head and wondered what went wrong. She knew she had been careful not to lock herself out. She groaned and her diaphragm moved again. She took a gasping breath, and then another before she could speak. "Pertwing," she hissed. "What happened?"

I inadvertently left the door in camouflage mode, answered a voice in her head without a trace of contrition. Without a com warning, you attempted to enter the wrong cabin. My access is one door closer to the link.

"Great," Darsey muttered, and took a calming breath before pushing herself upright. She staggered to the correct door, which wavered into sight like a mirage solidifying. She approached it cautiously, but managed to step through unimpeded. She strode to the bed and collapsed face first onto it.

"That was quick," Pertwing observed happily.

"Is it possible for computers to gloat?" Darsey muttered into the bedding.

"I am too well designed to gloat. It would be beneath my programming. You neglected your lack of a com."

"And you didn't point it out," Darsey accused as she rose and moved to stand over the computer.

"Correct. I knew that you would eventually notice. You are highly intelligent."

Darsey regarded the console suspiciously. "Are you trying to mess with my mind?"

"You have messed with my programming."

"I'll take that as a yes. Look, do you have a face or something? If we're going to hate each other, it would be so much easier to do it in person."

"I do not hate you," Pertwing answered throatily, "but I do have a visual projection."

An image appeared above the curving console fascia and Darsey blinked at it in surprise. She studied it silently before tilting her head to one side to study it some more.

"We-ell, you certainly have a face. And a body."

"Do you like them? Nightwing does. He programmed them for me."

"He could've programmed more clothes."

"Nightwing does not like such."

"No kidding? I think it's fairly obvious what Nightwing likes, and you have lots of it. I assume your visual is based on a female kres. The face clearly is. Is the rest biologically accurate? I mean, the birds I know don't even have mammaries and there's no way you'd get off the ground with those things."

"Ah, you have breast envy."

"I do not," Darsey flushed with annoyance. "I'm simply after information."

"I believe that I am well proportioned and quite realistic."

"Beautiful and brainy. You must be the envy of every other console. Too bad that won't help you consummate your relationship with Nightwing."

There was a brief silence and then an icy answer. "At least he would never sell me."

"You think he's going to sell me?"

Pertwing was quiet and its reticence was as eloquent as words.

"You do," Darsey whispered, and was surprised by her shock. "I really thought he'd let me go. Or at least not stop me." She realized she was bracing herself against the console and quickly straightened. "I'm gone. Now. I want a com."

"Negative. Nightwing has refused you such a device."

"Fine. I want a fake com that's capable of surging me down the link and identifying cabins."

"Negative. That is not cleared by Nightwing."

"No, but access to the console is. I'll make what I need myself."

"You may be clever, but you have insufficient knowledge of my systems to manufacture what you require."

Darsey chewed her lower lip and realized that the tart of a computer was right. However, she had no intention of waiting around to be sold again. "Inventory," she ordered, "bracelets. Specifically those that look like coms. I want something that mimics a junior officer's com. I won't use the link. I'll use service tubes instead. They were marked all over the ship and will take me where I need to go."

"You are likely to encounter mutt in the service ways."

"Fine. If mutt can fit, so can I. Yes, I'll take that one and this interaction is sealed in my personal file. Don't worry, Pertwing. It's not your fault you can't talk to Nightwing about this. Your owner should have been more careful when he set up hidden files in front of me."

"Our owner should have taken much more care with you in every respect. He has underestimated you badly."

"And don't we just love him for it." Darsey clicked a flat silver bracelet with a simple pattern into place around her left wrist. "Okay, I'm set. It was interesting meeting you, Pertwing."

"Where will you go?"

"I have no idea, but it won't be here." She decompressed some more clothes, food, bedding, toiletries and a compression strip to carry them in. "Goodbye."

Darsey spun on a heel and stepped from the room before she could regret her decision. She had no intention of leaving the ship yet, but she also had no intention of relying on Nightwing's good will. Spying on him while he worked at the console had proved invaluable. Darsey now knew how to eject an escape field and then destroy it. The Bandit's arrogant crew would assume that she had died while trying to escape. It might not be freedom, but at least she would wrest some control from her captors.

She strode down the corridor away from the central link and recalled the computer display of this level. She carefully counted each junction she crossed and slowed at the tenth. Pertwing's schematic had indicated the entrance to a service tube in the next section of passage. Darsey stopped and turned slowly with a frown. The stretch between junctions ten and eleven was the same featureless violet as the previous walls. Its roof was a single strip of light that ran uninterrupted down the length of the passage. Darsey spun again and thought hard. She smiled suddenly and moved to stand close to the wall where the section began. She ran her hands across its face and started to walk. She found the break in the apparently solid surface halfway between the junctions.

She felt the welcome warmth of relief as her hands carefully traced the invisible opening. It started at waist height and continued above her head. She perched on the edge and took a deep breath before swinging her legs up and pivoting to face into the wall. She leaned forward and her head passed through it and into a darkness broken by flashes of colored light. Darsey hesitated, but the distant sound of footsteps galvanised her. She slid into the strangely lit corridor, then rolled to her hands and knees and started to crawl.

The surface beneath her was a dull gray, but patterns of light seemed to pulse within it. She moved deeper into the tunnel and it trembled around her. The vibrations increased and a wave of gold shot around Darsey to flow on down the corridor. She smiled in delight and gazed down at her hands. Another flash passed beneath them and her skin turned briefly pink and translucent. Smaller patterns swirled in its wake, circles of red, blue or green that chased their own tails and then darted sideways to disappear from the tunnel walls. The Bandit's service ways were a place of unexpected beauty.

Darsey moved on in delight and only remembered her goal when her tunnel crossed another. She paused in the intersection, amidst a burst of color as two pulses met. She closed her eyes and displays of the ship's honeycombed levels appeared against her lids. The pattern was complex, but her memory of it was as perfect as always. She nodded and turned right, raising her head as she moved on. However, she stopped as soon as she looked up. The tunnel ahead was blocked by shoulders and a massive back. A mutt was hurtling toward her and showed no sign of slowing. His head was down and hairy knuckles dragged his huge frame along at surprising speed.

Darsey cried out as he charged at her, "Stop!"

His head came up with a look of almost comical surprise. The silver thatch on his shoulders bunched as he braked with his arms and tried to stop. His momentum drove him on and his nails screeched against the floor as he skidded into Darsey. She was already backing away as fast as she could and managed to throw herself into the other tunnel of the intersection before he ran her down. His straining bulk slid past her and into the junction, where it finally stopped, blocking both passages. She heard the sound of another noisy approach and a second mutt slammed into the first. The collision hardly moved the hairy creature and the two halted together to fill the intersection.

There was sudden silence and two massive heads turned slowly to look down the tunnel at Darsey. She had already recognised the hairy individual, and his bony faced companion was equally familiar. They were the guards who had dragged her before Greon yesterday. Darsey realized that to her, it seemed a lifetime earlier, and she hoped that for the mutt, it was just as distant. The stench of their sweaty bodies was overpowering in the confined space and the only sound was the murmur of energy as it passed through the walls. Darsey tried to read the mutt's faces, but bone or hair interrupted any expression she might have recognised. She sat back on her heels as she knelt before them in the strange semi-dark and calmed her breathing in the hope that would steady her voice.

"Move aside."

Two heavy heads bowed, and the mutt separated to clear the intersection. Darsey slipped easily between them and crawled on as fast as she could. She was intensely aware of them as she passed and instantly felt the slight twinge as one grasped a stray wisp of her hair. She paused, startled, and realized that the silver-thatched mutt had reached after her to pluck several strands. She cursed her hesitation, realising that it must be obvious she had noticed the theft. She decided that the gesture was too furtive to be normal and turned decisively.

Darsey scowled at the mutt and held out her hand. To her surprise, the pirate moaned with terror and remorse.

"Sorry, sah, sorry. So sorry," he repeated thickly as he extended a ham-sized fist toward Darsey. "You not notice. Not meant to. For collection. My collection."

Darsey gestured impatiently with her hand and the mutt sidled closer with obvious trepidation.

"I won't hurt you," she said roughly, and his bearded features were split by a huge smile.

He reached out with a long arm and Darsey could see several strands draped over his fingers. They stood out darkly against his pale skin and fear brought sweat to her palms. She held the creature's eyes as he leaned closer and that seemed to work. His attention was riveted to her and his smile widened further.

"Thank'm, sah. Yes thanks, many thanks. Just be collection. Be the best. Like this'n. Pretty silver from pretty boss."

Darsey knew what was about to happen even as it did. The mutt's glance strayed to the hair in his hand as he mentioned it. He frowned ponderously and then froze. He squatted there, with the telltale threads almost in Darsey's reach, for an impossibly long moment. His purple tongue protruded as he studied the dark red strands. He looked up at Darsey again and his bewilderment was obvious when he turned to his companion.

"What?" the other demanded, and the hairy male stretched back to show the richly colored hair in his grip. "S'different," the other agreed.

They both turned to Darsey and she looked at them coolly.

"I like mermaridian hair, so I changed my color. Return it immediately and continue your work. Or do I have to call Greon?"

The mutt moaned in unison and both bowed their heads.

"No, sah, no," they chanted together, and the hand swivelled back toward Darsey. However, as she reached for her hair, the pirate gripped the strands more firmly. Darsey rapped sharply on a knuckle of his fist, but he failed to notice.

"Me know sah," he said slowly, and the lines in his brow deepened to furrows that thrust his eyebrows forward. "But not know too. When sah join ship?"

"I just came on at Eltok," Darsey replied easily, copying the response ManDaNiah had given her earlier. "But I already knew Greon... very well. Now return my hair and continue on, or it will mean trouble."

The two mutt studied her uncertainly and the corridor was thick with odour and tension. They looked at each other again and the hairy thief nodded in sudden submission, but, before the weakness of relief had left Darsey, another pulse flashed around them. It bathed her face with gold and the mutt's faces were lit by both its passage and sudden recognition. Their fear turned to surprise.

"Be'n new slave," one crowed, and they shared a confused look.

Darsey moved as quietly as she could, drifting smoothly backwards, but that action was enough to catch their attention. They turned back together and the hairy one whooped with delight, then both lunged after their prize.

Adrenaline fired Darsey's muscles as she threw herself beneath a clutching hand. Her discarded hair fluttered past as she closed on the mutt. She slammed the heel of her hand into his nose and he grunted amid a spray of blood. The other mutt tried to reach her past his partner and Darsey dropped as her leg scythed out to take him in the knee. His kneecap cracked and he staggered, while the impact exploded up her thigh. Damn. That mountain of bone was more solid than any punching bag.

Darsey quivered like a tuning fork, then threw herself back to make her escape, but the move came too late.

A massive paw closed around her arm and the mutt with the injured nose leered down at her. Purple streaked his beard, turning it to lavender, and then brown when the strange lights threw patterns across his face. His lips pursed amid spiky hair and Darsey was frozen as the peripheral blur of his other hand moved toward her. Although the blow seemed casual, it hit with the force of a hammer and darkness followed in its wake.

10

Bugs and Reptiles

Nightwing rose from the examination rack and wished he had been unconscious. His body still ached and the t'ssaas' probing had left a harsh metallic taste at the back of his throat. He wondered whether they had really needed to calibrate his synaptic responses without anaesthetic or if they enjoyed it as much as Greon. He stepped away from the support field and reached for his discarded clothes. He dressed grimly, but realized that his hands were shaking and spared a moment from sealing his tunic to steady them. He looked down at his still fingers, while keeping most of his attention on the three t'ssaa behind him.

One of the reptiles unexpectedly moved away from the group. Its light steps made no noise, but Wing's fronds sensed its approach and he spun to face it. Its strange features were unreadable, although he felt menace and violent intentions as it closed on him. Greon stopped humming from his shelter in the doorway and watched warily.

The t'ssaa's eyes were fully vertical when it stepped into striking range of Wing. It was ready to attack. The kres tensed with the realisation that this was another test and possibly the most important of all.

"What?" he asked curtly and when he spoke the t'ssaa attacked.

Its green arm glistened as it struck with the awesome speed that made the reptiles so feared. However, Wing was expecting the blow and reacted instantly. His head jerked and the t'ssaa missed its target. Instead, its fingertips caught the curved gold blade of his nose with stinging impact. He stepped smoothly back, shaking his head to clear it and ducked into a crouch with his hands raised protectively, but the fight was over. The t'ssaa stepped away and rejoined its companions. They regarded Nightwing impassively and then all three tongues flickered to taste the air.

"He did not panic," one stated, and the others agreed.

"He knew fear," said the t'ssaa that attacked, "but his reactions were only one hundreth sslow."

Its companions stirred uneasily and one raised its hand scan toward Wing. "Are all kres sso fast?" it demanded and he realized he had disturbed them.

"Yes," he lied. "My reactions are average."

The t'ssaa crowded together and one crest rose slightly to show streaks of red. Wing sensed potential violence in their odd minds, but something else as well. His answer excited them.

"Yess," the lead prober decided, "your people could be asseptable. You will ssuply ssperm to us."

Wing was utterly unprepared for such a request and, across the room, Greon gaped. Their eyes met and the leader groaned inwardly at his Senior's expression.

"It's only sperm," Greon said gruffly. "I'm sure they'll pay well. Just provide some."

To Greon's dismay, Nightwing shook a finger in absolute refusal.

"I will not," he stated flatly, staring at his Leader to make it clear that no order would change his mind.

Greon straightened from slouching in the doorway and despite his size wafted silently to join Nightwing. He leaned down to whisper in his Senior's ear, making Wing flinch. "I know you kres are notoriously nurturing, but it's not actually children-"

"Potential children, sah and I won't negotiate. Not on this."

Greon started to hum and crouched lower, while casually raising his arm to lift his com. Wing realized he had just become a shield and clamped his teeth against a sigh. Subtlety was a foreign concept to memaridean. As if to prove his point five mutt shoved their way through the door, skidding and pushing past each like puppies chasing a bone. They raised their arms and their coms shrilled with blast energy.

Wing wanted to bury his face in his hands, but imminent battle with the t'ssaa trumped his despair over his crew. His com circled his wrist with fire and he focused on his recent attacker. Who was recompressing the last of the t'ssaa's equipment.

Wing blinked, but nobody else moved. The remaining lizards watched him calmly, as if he was the only other person in the room. Their tongues flickered constantly, but their arms hung limp at their sides.

"Very well," the largest reptile finally said. "Our exam is complete."

The mutt turned with a clatter of boots and weapons to stare at Greon. He gestured to the hall and they looked at each other uncertainly. The Leader's steady hum deepened to a growl, matching Wing's exasperation.

"Go," their Senior ordered, "and wait close outside to escort our guests. They're just leaving."

The largest t'ssaa's eyes blinked rapidly and it ducked its head. "Thanksss, Nightwing. Good flight and good fight. Perhapss we shall ssee you on Gratuity or Eltok?"

His eyes strayed to meet Wing's and a chill touched the kres. "Perhaps," he agreed noncommittally.

He watched silently as the t'ssaa finished packing. The aliens were equally quiet, although their tongues flickered constantly as if they were exchanging information. They quickly finished and each lithe individual shouldered a compression sac. Their commander turned back to Nightwing and he was instantly alert again.

"The sscars on your cheekss are markss of unworth, yess?"

Wing felt Greon's instant curiosity, but failed to hide his anger at the question. He found it hard to answer against a sense of choking and had to force words past a stiff throat. "Yes, they're ritual marks of disHonor."

"Why?"

"Why do you wish to know?"

The t'ssaa was unblinking, but the dark slits of its pupils slid upright and widened, a first sign of battle readiness. "We have esplained already. We wish to know more of kres. More of all peopless."

Wing hesitated and realized that his injured emotions were putting his ship at risk. "I disobeyed my ruler, my house and the Bureau of Genome Protection. I'm now cast-out."

"Did your father sscar your face?"

"No, my father died long past. I did it."

"This is part of the ritual, yess?"

"Yes."

"What if you refuse?"

"If I hadn't cut my face, I would have been force branded. The brand is tiny and on the wrist, but that's part of the ritual. It offers temptation, but only a coward takes the brand. A kres who scars his cheeks retains some Honor. Not for himself, but for his family."

The t'ssaa absorbed his words in silence, although their tongues were as busy as before. They turned away without thanks or any further acknowledgment, for which Wing was grateful. He shuddered as the five mutt reappeared, summoned by Greon to escort the t'ssaa from the med bay. The group's footsteps receded and stopped when they entered the link. Nightwing started to relax, until a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

"That didn't look like fun," Greon stated happily. "You can rest for as long as needed. With sick pay, of course."

Wing stifled a curse. "Certain-sure. You'll get the money."

"How many shifts will you opt off?"

"One alone, sah. It's all I can afford."

"For true, for true. Do enjoy your rest, Senior. I have to make haste back to the nest to give Jileea a fright." Greon's hand rose from Nightwing's shoulder like an anchor weight lifting. The leader stepped jauntily to the door and his silver hair bobbed in time to his humming as he left.

Nightwing looked sourly after him and ruefully rubbed his shoulder. "Greon's a leader who truly cares." He snorted at his own comment and stretched stiffly. He idly tapped his com and it showed a negative reading for any surveillance. Nightwing accepted its reassurance and connected with his console. He checked the data lock implanted in the cells the t'ssaa had harvested from him. It was working and showed a clear trail back to the t'ssaa ship. Wing smiled with satisfaction, relieved that the offensive examination had been worthwhile. He could find them again whenever he wished. He started to close the link, but an image of Pertwing appeared.

"Hey, hon," he said automatically, and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Sweetie," she responded with a languorous smile. "Do you need to run a check on your quarters?"

Nightwing's eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. "Ye, I think I do. How's Darsey?"

"I have no knowledge."

Nightwing groaned and wondered what else could go wrong. "Alright, where's Darsey?"

"I can't answer that question either."

Nightwing frowned and wondered how the alien could have escaped his data trace. "Why not?"

"I can't answer that question."

"What? Oh Gods, has she made a personal file?"

"I can't answer that question."

"Which means yes. The gat. She had me thinking she was a console muck." Nightwing closed his eyes and rubbed wearily at the ache in his cheeks as he sent mental commands via the com to override Darsey's privacy orders. It was harder to break into her file than he expected and, despite his fury, he felt grudging respect. "How the hail did she do that? She darted past a dozen command layers."

"The female has an eidetic memory."

"Darsey has perfect recall? Why didn't you on-tell before?"

"She didn't let me and neither did you. I tried to limit her console access, but you overspoke me-"

"Ye, I know and I'm sorry. I was somewhat distracted."

The tiny projection squirmed from her pose reclining on one side to push herself up on an arm. Her expression was genuinely concerned. "I know. Are you well? Did the t'ssaa hurt you?"

Nightwing waved the questions away and hopped up onto the examining field. He sat there swinging his legs and re-establishing the data lock on Darsey. "I'm fine, but most pleased they're gone. I won't volunteer for such again. At last. There's her signal, just coming from a service way. Lock out her access to vital systems and let her roam."

"You're not going to fetch her?"

"No. She forced her way out and any trouble that finds her is hers to fix. I'm coming home to cleanse and sleep and then cleanse over. See you soon-as."

"Good," his console murmured, blowing a kiss as she disappeared.

11

Violation

Darsey blinked furiously and a blurred image appeared. Maybe that cabin wasn't so bad, she thought as consciousness returned. She wakened to the groping hands and clumsy pawing of two males arguing over her. The bony creature was crouched above her and he smiled when her eyes focused. The lighting and the width of the corridor made it clear that they had carried her back to a main passage. Darsey shook her head and it cleared immediately. She felt surprisingly normal and had to search to find the faintest trace of a headache. She looked across the bony mutt's shoulder at his companion. His bearded face was clean and his nose undamaged. They had obviously healed themselves and their victim. Darsey was grateful for the medical attention, but her stomach tightened at the attention she was receiving now.

The hairy alien pulled his chortling friend back from a close examination of Darsey and pushed past him so that they were equally near. Each knelt astride one of her legs, but their gloating appreciation was interrupted by a quarrel.

"Don't trick'm," the bony face spat at his companion.

"Not tricking," said the hairy one in a sulky tone. "You'n go first. Your'n turn, right? Just touching is all."

His crewmate retched and spat at his friend. He ignored Hairy's angry protest and turned back to Darsey. He licked two bony ridges that served as lips and gripped her cheeks with his fingers and a spatulate thumb. His breath was hot against her mouth as he pursed his ridged lips thoughtfully. "Pretty eyes. Blue. Lots blue. Strange."

Darsey was suddenly terrified that he was going to kiss her, but her mind was drawn to new horrors as his partner reached out to tear her tunic. The laces ripped and the mutt with the bony face licked his lips again. The other simply grunted and reached toward Darsey, but his furry hand was slapped aside by the first.

"My turn."

They glared at each other and Darsey quietly eased away from them. Her movement was infinitesimal as she gradually slid further from the arguing pair. She eased herself closer to the passage wall and her legs started to reappear from between two pairs of sweaty thighs. The calmer of the two turned his shaggy head to watch, but she assumed a terrified expression and he looked back to his angry colleague.

Darsey seized the chance to free her legs completely while they were distracted. Her muscles tensed and fired before the mutt even realized that she had curled to strike. Her heels hammered into their groins and they collapsed, their solid frames crumpling around the point of impact. They hit the floor hard, to lie curled and comatose.

"Ouch," said a familiar voice, and Darsey's head jerked up.

Nightwing was leaning against the far wall, casually watching. She realized he had been spying on them and fresh anger joined fear and adrenaline to start her shaking.

"You know," he continued conversationally, "mutt coms carry no protective fields. Those two won't be walking any time soon."

Darsey took a deep breath and ran the back of her hand across her mouth, trying to clear the foul taste left by the mutt's touch. Nightwing pushed himself away from the wall to stroll past his injured crew and offer her a hand up, but she ignored it to rise unaided.

"You could have helped before," Darsey snarled, and reached to re-tie the torn laces of her tunic, but he shrugged without any remorse.

"You found your own trouble, and I felt you could free yourself from it. I did think of warning the mutt, though." He turned to retrace their steps and Darsey followed.

"Damn," she muttered, and he looked back in surprise. She was struggling to re-fasten her top, but her hands were still trembling. The knots blurred as her eyes filled with tears. She was too angry and embarrassed to look up when she heard Nightwing return.

"I'm sorry they scared you," he said with unexpected gentleness, and Darsey did look up in surprise.

He shifted her hands from the tunic and her gaze dropped immediately, but Nightwing was careful not to touch her bare skin. He efficiently re-laced her top and tied a skilful series of knots.

"You've done that before," whispered Darsey, looking up again and trying to smile.

"No," he admitted with an answering grin. "It's most often the reverse." He started to say more, but cut off the comment and turned on a heel. He took off immediately to stride down the corridor, his boots thudding hard in another abrupt change of mood.

Darsey gaped briefly, but then hurried after his receding figure. She had to break into a trot to catch him and wondered what she had done wrong this time.

"Why are you so mad?" she demanded as she drew alongside.

Nightwing's jaw jutted and he snorted upwards, disturbing the dark wave of hair that swept over his brow.

"I've known enough pain today to last for many shifts and yet you manage to make it worse. I don't know why the drak I changed my mind and came for you, because sadly, I was too late. It could be impossible to protect you now. Mutt may speak slowly, but they do speak. When talk of a beautiful female reaches Greon, he'll want to examine you. Regaining his attention was stupid." He lengthened his stride, but she paced him.

The alien's tawny eyes flashed, but Darsey refused to give ground and squeezed close to brush his shoulder as the corridor narrowed. "How?" she demanded. "How have I changed things? What will Greon do? I need information. I thought I was repulsively ugly to all civilised beings."

"In my cabin," he growled, and she nodded.

They were now moving too fast for easy conversation and Darsey recognised the series of rapid turns they made from her memory of the console map. She and Nightwing hurtled through the door to his quarters together. Darsey had to stop to get her breath back and, before she could question Nightwing, he raised a commanding hand. "Warm my bed," he ordered and started to strip.

Darsey heard the soft hum of a cleansing field powering up in response to his unspoken instructions.

"We need to talk and you owe me some answers. For both our sakes, Nightwing. How can I stop doing stupid things if I don't know why they're dumb? I don't understand the rules in this place, much less what's going on in your head. You tell me I'm not a slave, but then you expect me to live and act like one. So what does that actually make me? Nightwing?"

However, the kres ignored her furious demands and continued to tear at his clothes.

"Please? Nightwing?"

Darsey stood there unanswered and helpless as Nightwing ignored her. He continued to undress and she was reduced to trying to shame him with her expression. He refused to meet her gaze and left her fuming impotently as he entered the blutions. She listened to the soothing hum of the field compressing the dirt from Nightwing's body in disbelief. She desperately wanted to feel clean herself and to scour away all memory of the mutt. Nightwing's selfishness enraged her and she clambered into bed cursing him. She left her boots on and scuffed them against the sheets on his side. She thumped Nightwing's pillow, before rolling as far from his side of the bed as possible. She hoped that it was cold and dirty when he reached it. She sat scrunched against the wall, with her knees tucked up to her chin, and waited for her turn cleansing. She amused herself devising fitting ends for Nightwing that also consigned Pertwing to a scrap heap. When Nightwing finally emerged from the blutions looking fresh and relaxed, she twisted her face into what she hoped was a venomous scowl.

"You can cleanse now," he stated and, to Darsey, the comment sounded more like an order than an offer.

"Perhaps I don't want to," she answered between clenched teeth, but he simply yawned.

He pulled back the cover, which to Darsey's disappointment looked perfectly clean and collapsed beneath it.

"Good sleep, Darsey," he murmured, and rolled away from her immediately.

She glared at his back and then realized that the expression was completely wasted. He was breathing deeply and already seemed to be asleep.

I hate you, she thought desperately, and I hate this place and I hope you have nightmares and never sleep again. Why didn't you help me? She shut her eyes as hard as she could, but was unable to shut out a last, plaintive question. Why did I think you would?

12

Deadly Pact

Nightwing's home planet was called Kresynt and it orbited a white star at the heart of kres space. It was named for its six satellites, and at least one moon was always visible, night and day. Glacial ice covered much of the planet and the only liquid water was near the equator. A continent straddled much of that balmy zone, circling Kresynt like a girdle, and its fertile land could be clearly seen from space. It was a vivid tapestry of fawn and green, broken occasionally by the white streaks of mountain ranges and the gold of beaches.

The kres capital, Arckaydia, was poised above a hundred kilometres of sand that ran along the Great Sea. It was a busy city that spread across dunes and cliffs, sprawling around the core of kres society, the Palace of the Arck. The palace was home to Kresynt's ancient ruling family and was perched on the highest point of the city's beachside cliffs. It had grown over the millennia to become a city in its own right and housed all of the staff needed to control an interplanetary empire.

It was still early and the palace gleamed in the dawn. It was made of snow marble and draped across the edge of a wide plateau. Towers of ice seemed to rise from the plateau's cliffs, while artificial icicles flowed down its seaward side. The palace mimicked the glaciers that covered much of Kresynt and the morning sun lit blue fire within the stone as its dawn blush faded.

The city was still quiet, but the household of the Arck was already stirring. A purposeful hum filled its myriad rooms as machines and courtiers began their day. The Arck was in residence to meet with his court and everyone was busy. Muted noise rose from all the main levels. However, there was an exception, a single thread of silence that unwound through the bustle. A series of rooms briefly stilled; first one, then the next and the next, as a beautiful kres passed imperiously through.

She strode through lofty chambers with obvious disdain for those around her. She was tall and blonde, with flawless skin the color of honey. Her face had only the faintest trace of golden glitter across angled cheekbones. Her features were fine and her eyes large, but their beauty was marred by coldness. Their pale gray was chilly and distant. The kres she passed were all too busy to greet her, but none forgot to bow deeply until she moved on. She was the Arck's only child and she passed through her people without siblings or friends. Princess Goldown had always been alone, but the last years of her life had been the loneliest yet and her eyes conveyed all the bitterness and anger that her aristocratic features denied.

Goldown moved confidently through the palace, her blonde hair streaming back from the family crest braiding it and her trailing robes snapping in the speed of her passage. She pounced into each new chamber, determined to make the courtiers scurry. Palace staff scattered before her in a flurry of bows and curtsies. Goldown smiled grimly and continued to stride through the palace until word of her approach spread and she started to enter empty rooms. The staff's avoidance of her was satisfying and she walked faster as the wing cleared. She was relieved to finally be alone as she slipped between the shadows thrown by the narrow windows of the Long Gallery, completely unaware that she was being stalked in turn.

"Princess," an overly familiar voice called, and she cursed softly. "Princess!"

Goldown stopped her headlong rush and turned with a swirl of skirts to face her pursuer. She stared hard at the approaching male, making no effort to hide her displeasure. "What do you want, Blizzard? Be quick."

The two studied each other, one outwardly seething and the other apparently calm. The male's robes were nearly as fine as Goldown's and one side of his hair was plaited through a noble crest. The ornate spray of gold stars gleamed brightly against his dark locks. His eyes narrowed in response to Goldown's glare, but his thin face remained serene. He bowed deeply and rose with a flourish. "You look more lovely each time we meet, Your Grace."

"Ye, ye. Save your effusive compliments for some other heir to the throne, My Lord." She jerked a dismissive hand and turned away again.

"Goldown."

The princess' back stiffened and the soft dilmah covering it stretched taut and starched in outrage. She swivelled slowly to face Blizzard, but was too affronted for speech. Her face felt twisted by the fury within and he paused, as if his usual honeyed words had turned bitter on his tongue. He swallowed convulsively and bowed, bending until his hair swept the floor in the full genuflection reserved for a ruling monarch.

Goldown's breath hissed through her teeth and some of her anger escaped with it. She watched with growing pleasure as Blizzard held the excruciating pose. His slim frame quivered and she had to hide a smile.

Drak, she swore mentally and her mood abruptly changed as she realized she was in danger. He certain-sure knows how to appease me. What suspicions does he hold? Has he guessed? Be calm. Give him naught.

"Rise, Blizzard," she said coldly, and he stiffly obeyed. "Such genuflection is inappropriate, as is your use of my first name. I am the Arck's daughter and you will never be so familiar. At the same time, you will remember that I am merely the heir to the throne and not its occupant. Never bow as if I was more."

"I shall all times do as you say, Glory of the kres." Blizzard dared to hold her haughty gaze and actually smiled. "But I must observe that one day you will deserve my full obeisance... and that of every other kres."

Goldown frowned, unsettled by his warm smile, and spun away without dismissing him. She used her com to check behind her, but her wretched suitor stayed resolutely in place. He tipped his head to one side, and the tip of his tongue appeared between his lips as he watched her progress along the sun-striped gallery. His mouth pursued and she enlarged the image to read his lips with all of the skill gained from a life at court.

"One day, I will call you Goldown again. I will find a way and then your body will bend before mine."

The princess slowed in shock, but found enough composure to keep moving. She'd known Blizzard was besotted with her, but had never realized he could be so... forceful. She almost looked back over her shoulder, but there was no time to delay. Her father would soon be awake.

Goldown forced Blizzard from her mind and changed direction to sweep back into the east link that led between palace levels. She stepped from the smooth stone of the corridor into empty air and launched herself downward with a practiced pulse of her com. The ancient service link was seldom used now and was completely empty so early in the day. She drove herself faster and her robes fluttered strangely as she plummeted. They billowed wildly and then wrapped tight around her. Her outer cloak seemed to pale as it enveloped her. It flashed briefly, with the reflective sheen of water on a sunny day, and then both it and Goldown disappeared.



A sensor had discreetly followed the princess and it hesitated uncertainly. Its drift down the weightless link slowed and it sent a query to its operator. The target request was answered by fresh scan priorities and it moved purposefully after its prey once more. In the privacy of an upper level annex, Blizzard faded his control display and his forehead puckered in fascination. He tapped his lips in brief indecision, but then moved quickly after his spying sensor, to follow the object of his hunt.



Deep beneath the palace, a long-abandoned sewer system was now used to carry a range of supplies into the Arck's home. Despite the tunnels' change of function, they managed to retain a dank atmosphere of rank neglect. The darkness would have been absolute without the eerie glow of the energy feeds now covering their stone walls.

One of the deepest corridors had just enough light to reveal an odd shimmer in its chilly air as an unnatural thickening moved through it. A distortion like grease on glass slid to a halt beside food lines that had been painstakingly exposed. It wavered wildly and finally stilled, then solidified.

Princess Goldown appeared, wrapped tightly in her cloak. She stepped to the wall covered in conduit fields and started to shiver until her metabolism adjusted to a temperature just below freezing. Able to ignore the chill, she used all of her com's power to slide a probe deep into a single energy feed. Her movements had the deftness of familiarity and her com connection pulsed as a shadow flowed through it into the Arck's food supply.

"There you go, dear patri. A fitting present from a loving daughter."

Goldown carefully withdrew the probe and deactivated it. She knew the myriad layers of palace security that she risked alerting and her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Thank ice her sabotage was safely complete. She drew her cloak closed again, but, before she could move, a heavy hand fell on her shoulder. Its grip was bruising and she stifled a scream as adrenaline surged.

Instinct ordered her to freeze, but instead she kicked back at her attacker. Her foot connected with com enhanced power and he grunted, but his grip tightened and he forced her against the wall. She tried to struggle, until he pushed forward to trap her with his body.

Goldown's terror abruptly receded when she smelt the familiar scent of expensive dilmah cloth. Blizzard, she realized with sudden insight, and fury replaced fear. She pivoted, despite the painful restraint, and glared up at her attacker.

Goldown's horror returned immediately. She was not struggling with her persistent admirer, but someone much more unwelcome. His blond hair gleamed, even in the dull tunnel, and his fine features were tight with anger. She paled and sagged further, until she was forced to rely on his painful support to stay upright.

"Patri," she whispered, and the tunnels darkened until she was sure she had fainted.

However, his smooth voice carried clearly to her sensitive ears. It was even colder than the surrounding chill. "Goldown." He jerked her close and his fingers ground into her shoulders.

She tried to smile, but his gray eyes were stony and his fronds bombarded her until she shuddered at his fury.

"What have you been feeding me?"

"Patri, please. Please... I would never harm you. Never. I swear-"

"What?" he yelled in her face, and she started to sob.

"A contraceptive. Only a contraceptive. That's all."

"All?" He released her so abruptly that she collapsed to the dank flags. He stood over her like a golden god and his expression was pitiless. "All, Goldown? I've been desperate for another child. You know that. I've even had sex with your mother. Repeatedly! A single heir is not enough. How can your understanding fail in this? If I had more children, you would be safer. At the moment, you alone block any path between ambition and the throne. Do you not wish to be safe?"

His daughter looked up from the floor, her fear forgotten. "Safe? Safe, Patri? What has safe to do with it? Of course I don't seek to be safe. I seek to be Arck."

"Ah." The tension drained from her father's face at the admission and an unexpected smile warmed his eyes. He leaned toward her, offering his hand, and Goldown warily let him help her rise.

She tilted her chin in defiance as she looked up at him, struggling to hide a shudder at his happy expression. He retained a gentle hold on her fingers and absently stroked her palm with his thumb.

"Yes, Arck," he murmured. "I like ambition in a child. Especially one of mine." His grip was suddenly crushing and he pulled her hard against him. "But never when it involves me or my throne. Do you understand that, Goldown?"

She nodded in helpless terror and steeled herself against further violence. The pair stood locked together in a parody of an embrace, two golden figures who should have brought a touch of light to the ancient sewers, but instead carried a deeper darkness.

Arck Sharpeye grinned down at his daughter, who could no longer suppress a tremor. His smile was so fierce it stretched his mouth taut across his teeth and she could see their imprint through its golden sheen. She closed her eyes to avoid the sight, but couldn't help hearing the quaver in her voice.

"Can I go, Papa?"

"Of course, my dear, of course."

He released her with shocking abruptness and Goldown staggered back. She bobbed a curtsy and gasped out her thanks as she began her retreat. Her petticoats and dress seemed unusually heavy and tangled with her desperate steps. She stifled a sob and then a curse as she struggled on. She twisted at the silken cloth, trying to unravel its golden folds without stopping. Her progress was halting and undignified, but at least it was progress.

The Arck watched her leave with obvious amusement and let her stumble as far as the exit, moving backwards as required in his presence, before he raised his hand. Goldown registered the gesture with fresh terror, but not surprise. She knew her escape had been too easy. She lowered herself until her forehead touched her knee, listening for her father's approach, but unable to look at him again. He stopped beside her and reached down to stroke her hair, curling a blonde wisp tightly around his finger as he spoke.

"I am displeased, Goldown. I trust you realize that you need to be punished. Be in my chambers after dancing tonight."

"Yes, My Sire."

"I cannot hear you."

"Yes, My Sire," the stricken princess repeated and managed something more than a whisper.

Her father nodded happily and finally moved away. Goldown held her obeisance until his retreating footsteps faded to silence. Only when she really believed that he was gone did she let herself collapse onto the slimy flags. She hid her face in her hands, but lay without weeping. Dry-eyed and terrified, she willed time to stop, or run so fast that the night was gone, a thing of memory, like all the other memories that had been forced upon her and must be ignored. A faint tremor in the slippery stone beneath her cheek was the only warning Goldown had of an unheard approach. She groaned quietly and familiar terror welled in her gut.

"Goldown?" a hesitant voice asked, and her heart began to beat again. "Are you well?"

"Blizzard," she murmured into the hand covering her face.

She tapped her forehead in exasperation and she wondered how to get rid of the ridiculous male. It had been briefly amusing to be adored, but this was mortifying and her anger flowed freely to a new target. She hardly noticed the revoltingly slick stone beneath her palms as she pushed herself onto her hands and raised her head. The look she gave her suitor was venomous, but he refused to quail.

"Are you well?" Blizzard repeated, and Goldown snorted with fury.

She opened her mouth, but, for once, the angry words were absent. She searched desperately for what she wanted to say, but was distracted by Blizzard's expression. He watched her carefully, even... tenderly, and in his brown eyes she saw genuine concern.

"I..." Goldown started, but nothing came after that desperate word and she realized she was closer to tears than she had been for years.

Blizzard stiffened and his usually obsequious expression was masked by anger. She realized that it was more than anger when he started to shake. He crouched before her and his voice was thick with fury.

"If he ever hurts you, I'll kill him. I swear-"

Goldown surged forward and her hand rested against Blizzard's lips with sudden urgency. The gesture interrupted his vow and his eyes widened at the contact. She felt his lips soften beneath her touch and jerked her fingers back in annoyance. However, despite her embarrassment at his arousal, she felt none of the anger that his audacity would usually cause. Instead she looked at him tenderly and accepted his hand, so they rose together.

"Don't say such," she whispered, leaning against him. "Don't even think it. At least never in the palace."

"I do think it," Blizzard hissed, and Goldown's unusually tender feelings hardened again.

"No and I truly mean this. My father still refuses to name me as heir. If he dies without choosing me, I'll never rule the kres. Not easily."

"Surely his choice of heir is obvious," Blizzard protested. "A mere formality. It must be so," he persisted. "You're his daughter and your rule must follow his, just as a son of yours will sit the throne once your time is past. All kres know such is the natural path. A male must pass his rule to a daughter. A female will carry more of his genes, but in turn you will pass more of those strong traits to the males you bear. You're his perfect heir. This is pre-school genetics-"

"Not to my father. He calls old Lady Grace, who leads the Bureau for Genome Protection, a manipulator and cares for nothing else. She showed me favor, so he does not. He even had me registered as un-favored. If I want the throne, it needs must be with his fresh consent."

Blizzard gaped in amazement and Goldown laughed as his narrow face was split by the expression. He quickly closed his mouth and dared to look at her reproachfully. She sobered and, to her own amazement, nodded in apology. He nodded gravely back. "I can't believe he off-listed you. You're his daughter. Why would he do such?"

"Because he still hopes for another child. And because he likes to hurt me."

Goldown sensed a blast of anger from Blizzard so strong that it felt like a blow. She stepped back and her golden slippers skidded on the patchy green stone. She almost fell, but Blizzard caught her before she hit the slimy flags.

He drew her upright again and back into his embrace. They stood close and his grip loosened, but she remained in his arms. They were both motionless and Goldown searched for a sense of revulsion at his touch. She was surprised to find nothing. She sighed softly and tested the contact further, tilting her head until their faces touched. They stood cheek to cheek and she dared to wrap her fronds around his.

I never want my father killed. I simply want what should be mine. Once the Aging forces him aside, I want my throne. Until then, I needs must remove any threat to my inheritance. Discreetly. Do you understand?

"Huh?" Blizzard seemed to be smelling her hair and was clearly too distracted to use telepathy. "Gods... I can be discreet. I'll do whatever you wish, Goldown. You know how I feel for you."

"The whole drakking court knows how you feel for me," she answered with asperity, but her indignation was less heartfelt than usual. She drew back to study his eyes, and he held her gaze without wavering. "You know what I ask?" she whispered, and his forefinger tapped her shoulder in assent. "And what I offer?"

Blizzard had to moisten his parched mouth before he could say the word. "Marriage?"

"Certain-sure."

It was his turn to study her and he did so closely. "Is this real? Don't tease me here, Goldown. What of past romance? What of... him?"

The princess went rigid in Blizzard's arms and her mind went white with fury. "How? How dare you ask such?"

I dare because I need to know. If you want me to kill your future siblings, you have to commit. He'll not marry you now, Goldown. Even the BGP couldn't change his mind. His honor is gone and he'll never regain it.

Grief/loss escaped her fronds before she could stop it and colored her scattered thoughts. A royal edict could restore-

"Yes, it could. Is that what you want? If he came back, would you welcome him? Pardon all? Call him bonded and true mate? I need to know."

Goldown quivered, struggling with temptation, but her pride was stronger than her infatuation. Her body stilled and she looked at Blizzard with new certainty. "If Nightwing returns, I'll see him executed myself. If he tries to find his old life again, he is dead. He could crawl over razorbacks, begging my forgiveness and never get it. Nightwing is gone." I'll marry you instead, if I ever have need to. Kill any competition that arrives and you'll win his place in my bed. I swear it, Blizzard. If my father names another and you remove them, I'll be yours.

"My oath," Blizzard said and his voice was deep and strained. Shadows crowded the tunnel to gather thickly around the pair. I swear that any other heirs will die. I accept your pact, Lady. Accept it and seal it. He lowered his head and his mouth covered hers without hesitation or permission.

Goldown's eyes opened wide, but she stared at the roof in triumph rather than shock. Her lips softened beneath Blizzard's and she responded ardently as she secured her succession.

13

Blast from the Past

Darsey opened her eyes to her thirteenth day aboard the Bandit. She yawned and blinked away sleep in an effort to focus on her blurred surroundings. Nightwing's dark hair abruptly filled her view and she realized she was draped across his back. She started, instantly rolling away to her half of the bed and wondered again whether it had been a mistake to share it. The discomfort of sleeping on the floor paled beside the disgust of waking up next to the kres.

"You truly should," Pertwing's voice trilled in Darsey's ear, and she started again at the unwelcome intrusion.

"Should what?" she asked loudly, refusing to respect the fact that Nightwing was still asleep.

"Sleep on the floor."

"Pertwing!" Nightwing mumbled, and then yawned. "Behave."

He rolled stiffly onto his back and stretched, pushing his arms above his head until they met one wall, while his toes touched the opposite wall. His muscles creaked and Darsey pursed her lips at the display, but hid her disapproval beneath a smile when he turned to look at her.

He offered a small, stiff smile in return. "New day."

"Good morning."

"Now that the friendlies are over..." Pertwing purred, and her image appeared to lie in the air above Nightwing, "it must be time to download breakfast." The projection wriggled delightedly as she floated above her master and shot a mocking glance at Darsey.

However, the human ignored the vindictive look and the hint about breakfast. She sat and pushed her hands through her tangled hair in apparent unconcern.

"I'm going to cleanse," she informed the kres, "and then eat."

Nightwing grunted acceptance, but made no effort to move and clear her path from the bed. Darsey was nonplussed by his lack of cooperation and her mouth tightened as she knelt uncertainly beside him. "Excuse me," she said pointedly, but Nightwing simply shrugged a hand.

"No matter," he responded with another yawn, making it clear he had no intention of getting up.

Darsey set her jaw against anything unlady-like that might escape and decided on an appropriate response. The cover on his side of the bed was pulled free in a tangled mess, offering an easy exit, so she took it. Darsey crawled straight over Nightwing's supine form. She treated him as part of the mattress, using her knees and the heels of her hands without restraint as she completed a rapid fire crawl to the edge. He flinched, but only managing to draw up a single leg for protection against her whirlwind passage. She hit the floor breathing hard and with her palms on fire. What the hell?

"Thanks," Darsey managed caustically, but Nightwing gave an unconcerned smile. He offered nothing more, so she strode into blutions with her shoulders taut and her night gown rippling around her. She reached the farthest corner of the tiny chamber before dropping the garment, but it was only in the warm breath of the cleanser that she let herself sag. Her back collided with one wall of that small space and her shoulder with another, so that she hung in the cubicle like a half-claimed coat.

"Darsey?" Nightwing's voice in the doorway made her jump upright, her hands flying to hide what they could, but the kres made no attempt to enter. "Are you well?"

He actually sounded concerned, which made Darsey hesitate, but not for long. "Apart from being kidnapped and enslaved I'm fine."

"It sounded like you fell."

"Not bloody likely."

There was only silence in response, but Darsey crouched there, wearing nothing but her hands for a long time. She was thoroughly clean by the time she risked darting to the blution's compression strip and claiming some clothes. She pulled them on and when she looked down was relieved to see blue jeans and a white tee. It seemed Pertwing had finally redesigned their wardrobe according to Darsey's programming.

When Darsey entered the main room Wing was looking down, studying the clothes he'd pulled on.

He was wearing dark trousers and a soft jerkin of gray and black.

"Stellar work, Pertwing," he said when he lifted his head. "These are great. More tasteful than the down you usually decompress."

"You're welcome," Darsey answered and he spun to face her.

"You programmed the fresh feathers," he realized, and she nodded. "Thanks forever. You've no idea how much I hated giving myself a headache every time I looked down." Nightwing gestured at his body in heartfelt emphasis, but Darsey merely shrugged.

"It wasn't hard. I just went with good taste."

"Gods, Darse, what does it take to see some emotion from you?"

Nightwing's outburst surprised Darsey almost as much as the shortened form of her name. The alien looked shocked too and stared blankly at each her, while she shifted awkwardly, suddenly unsure what to say. Wing tipped a hand in what seemed to be an apology. "I didn't mean that as it sounded. Actually, I admire your control. You must need it on an alien ship."

"I need it living with you," she blurted and he smiled. "It's not funny, Wing. I'm going crazy inside. I mean it. I'm sick of this cabin. I'm sick of being stuck in it all day. I'm sick of behaving myself when you tell me to. I am soooo sick of Pertwi-"

"Sick of me, primitive?"

"All right, certain-sure," Nightwing interjected, "please don't fight again. I'm sorry about the whole situation, so let's pledge a deal. Darsey, if you fetch food from the console, I'll take you out every morning pre-shift. Right away, from now. Let's decompress a com for you and program in some camouflage, then after breakfast we'll play rebound. Shall we seal?"

"Absolutely," Darsey gulped. "Rebound? What's that? It sounds like fun." She turned casually to the computer, where the icon of a copper com had appeared, but she was faint with relief. She had to take several deep breaths before she could step to the console. Her mind flicked a practiced order to Pertwing and a gleaming bangle floated from storage to clasp itself around her wrist. She looked down at it in satisfaction and the simple pattern incised around the com sparkled reassuringly in the bright light. Her head jerked up in surprise and she spun to look at Nightwing with obvious suspicion.

"This has more than just camouflage function," Darsey pointed out and he raised an eyebrow in that distracting way of his.

"Ye. It can also out-talk, offer link propulsion and basic vacuum protection, plus hold a low level met-enhancement field."

Darsey frowned and rose briefly on her toes to bounce there appraisingly. "I feel really good. Is that the met-enhancement? What does it do?"

Nightwing nodded smugly at her appreciation. "I thought you'd like such. Met-enhancement is an energy field that surrounds the wearer completely. It coats every cell in the body. It offers protection plus and also optimises metabolism. It offers much more than those splinters you used to have in your blood."

Darsey froze in the middle of running a finger over her com's pattern. She wondered if she had really heard what Nightwing just said and hoped desperately that she hadn't. She kept staring at the bright copper of her com, too angry to look up at his complacent smile.

"Are you talking about my med-chip?" Darsey finally asked, through lips so tight she had to force the words out. "My nanites? The components that monitor my physiology and can be scanned for a quick diagnosis?"

"Ye. I figured they were something of such. Very quaint, but the com fields are more advanced and also pro-active-"

"You said 'used to have in my blood'. Past tense?"

"I took them out, certain-sure," he answered happily. "I checked they weren't vital first and I took all care. There was no harm and no need for thanks-" Darsey finally looked up and Nightwing's words seemed to stick in his throat. He swallowed and tilted his head. "You're unpleased?"

Darsey searched for her usual calm, but only briefly. It had vanished. "Unpleased? Unpleased? Yes, I'm unpleased. You took something that was part of me without even asking. You operated on me without my consent. Don't you people have ethics? How could you violate me like that?"

Darsey glared at Nightwing and her hands twitched as she balled them into fists.

A frown appeared between the kres' eyes too and they darkened as he took a step back. "There was no harm," he repeated stubbornly. "There was cost, because even a copper com's not cheap. And there was risk if Greon should note the transaction, but no violation."

Darsey clapped a hand furiously against the back of her neck. "You operated on me."

Nightwing simply shook his head and his top lip curled. "There was no operation. I spot compressed the...med-chip and a tweezer field plucked it out. A filter field removed the nanits. They can be restored as easily if you wish. I suggest you grow calm and take some thought while I cleanse." He turned away before Darsey could say more and stepped quickly from the room.

"It's nanites," she yelled angrily at the blutions, but there was no response from its occupant. "Nanites, you ignorant pirate," she muttered, and spun back to face the console, chewing her lip and in a mood as foul as any she had felt since joining the Bandit.

"Breakfast," an unwelcome voice purred as appropriate icons appeared in the air before Darsey, and her wrath instantly transferred to Pertwing.

"Breakfast," she said in mocking imitation of the machine, and her scowl roved over the meals available. As usual the floating images showed a bewildering array of food. Only a few of the dishes looked even vaguely familiar and most of the menu was bizarre. It ranged from viscous strands that seemed to form semi-solid purple birds' nests to misshapen orbs of light that looked like miniature galactic clouds – all unfettered by any form of container.

However, nearly all of the meal icons were only dimly lit, which meant they were no longer available on the Bandit. Darsey deleted them from the display with an angry swish of her hand and concentrated on projecting an image of the blandest icon shown. "Just two plates of meel."

"Not very inventive," Pertwing sniffed, but Darsey ignored it.

She had a more constructive revenge planned than petty sniping.

"What's this spyrian salt?"

"A super strong condiment that only ch't'kar enjoy. Nightwing hates it."

"Good. Give him double portions."

"Of course," the console purred, as happy as usual to upset its owner when the order could be traced to Darsey, but its delight was short-lived.

Pertwing was in the middle of decompressing the meal when Darsey reached through its standard projection to pull up secure files with shocking directness. She kept her tapping finger in place to crash through a dozen command layers and the computer's tiny projection leapt to its feet in outrage.

Pertwing's mouth widened to scream for her creator, but before she could call to Nightwing, Darsey's hand crushed her image. It vanished in a shower of stars. Darsey smiled grimly as her hands and mind flew to lock down the program's personality before it could resist. Her practice and spying were rewarded by silence. Pertwing was trapped beneath a 'seek and cover' virus initiated by Darsey, but she knew that it was only a matter of minutes before the program would reroute itself around her brutal suppression engine.

Nightwing would finish his morning routine in a similar amount of time, which gave Darsey a brief chance to access a personal logo hidden deep within his files. She'd never seen him open it, not even on that first morning when he had no suspicion she was watching. The strange logo had a storage tag and she was intensely curious about what the kres was hiding. It was her turn for some uninvited larceny.

Darsey leaned close to the console and her fingers flew, flicking through revolving layers of data until she reached Nightwing's inner hierarchies. She hesitated, but only to examine her memory carefully before attacking the innermost level of his personal storage. She moved slowly but surely, copying Nightwing's actions from that first morning exactly. The strange icon spun into view and flew closer, enlarging to fill the air in front of Darsey. She gasped and paused again, studying the symbol that hung before her, challenging her to open it.

The cleanser hum still carried clearly from blutions and Darsey forced herself to relax and think. Her anger was cooling, but she was committed now. She flexed her fingers and then reached into the display again. This time she combined the most basic summoning gesture, the one she had used to serve breakfast, with the specialised motions needed to access a secure level. There was a bright flash and she was dazzled as the icon split and its pieces spun away.

Darsey blinked furiously, trying to focus as something long and heavy slid into her arms. She staggered and then managed to right herself beneath the unexpected weight. A smaller bundle slipped from the wrapping and fell, but Darsey was still blinded by the flash of release and ignored the light blow when it landed on her foot. Her eyes stung and overflowed as the bright after-image of the shattered icon was slowly joined by more normal vision. The faded cacophony of cabin colors returned, but, for once, Darsey could ignore it. She gazed down instead at a dilmah swathed bundle that was longer than her arm. She glanced at the cleanser, but Nightwing was still busy. There was time for a quick look.

Darsey stepped carefully to the bed and dropped the object onto it. She waited for some objection from Pertwing, but the console was still silent, so Darsey bent to unfasten a wrapping so soft that her skin could hardly feel it. It gleamed with muted rainbow hues and flowed aside like liquid, to reveal the bright gleam of metal. Her heart hammered so loudly that she was sure Nightwing would hear, but she slid the last layers aside anyway.

Darsey blinked and straightened in surprise. Nestled in dilmah silk lay the most beautiful sword she had ever seen. Its slender blade offered an elongated and gleaming reflection of her stunned face. The harsh light painted stars across her image and she was unable to suppress a gasp as she reached for the sword. She carefully stroked the flat of the blade and then her hand rose unbidden toward its gold and silver hilt.

Darsey's fingers curled around the padded grip tentatively at first, then with growing confidence. There was a moment of stillness as she enjoyed the elusive feel of dilmah against her palm. Her fingers closed further and sparks leapt between them in response. She jumped and relaxed her hand, but it was too late. The hilt of the sword melted and tightened, even as she tried to let go. Its sculpted metal basket writhed up and over her fingers to grip her wrist, making it impossible to drop. The soft padding inside the grip adhered to her sweating palm with frightening strength. She shook her arm in growing horror, but the movement only made the weapon mould itself more closely to her.

"Damn," Darsey whispered, struggling to suppress panic. She hefted the blade and it rose more easily than she expected. She swung it carefully, but it still felt as secure as if it was part of her arm. She swung it wider in a wild curve, desperate to shake herself free, but the blow spun her around and the weight of the sword pulled her after it. She managed to regain her balance by jerking the blade upwards and it responded instantly to cut through the edge of the bed before surging toward the ceiling. It passed through those obstacles without pause, ripping through the solid side of the bed as though it was a hologram.

"Damn," Darsey wailed again as the point buried itself in the ceiling and finally stopped. Concussion from the impact rippled down the blade and her arm reverberated along with the metal. She gripped her pinioned wrist with her other hand and struggled to pry that humming hilt away. The effort was useless and her other arm started to vibrate in time to the sword, which was now pulsing wildly. She was tempted to raise a leg and try to kick the sword off, but realized that she was likely to find further trouble that way. "Damn."

"Indeed," a cold voice agreed from behind her. "This is unexpected."

Darsey twisted her head awkwardly against her trapped arm and managed to make out Nightwing in the blution door. He stood with his arms folded and his face so frozen that she had no idea what he was feeling. She suspected that whatever it was, it didn't bode well for her. The strange vibration continued to travel along her sword arm until it set her teeth rattling.

"C-could-d you h-help-p?" she asked hopefully, and he gave a sharp laugh.

"Unlikely."

"It-t f-feel-l-s-s aw-wf-ful."

"Certain-sure. My sword is stuck in the energy field guarding my quarters, yet strangely you have the shakes. Were you not taught never to play with others' toys?"

Darsey looked at him helplessly and her entire body started to tremble. "P-please."

Nightwing regarded her coldly and his pupils dilated until his eyes seemed almost black. She saw no pity in those dark holes. "Read the sword," he instructed, and his mouth twisted sardonically.

Darsey looked in surprise at the flashing blade and realized that there were words there, just below the buzzing hilt. She struggled to read the golden figures, squinting in a useless effort to allow for the energy pulse that was making the blade tremble. The words leapt with the metal, impossibly blurred, and Darsey sagged until she hung from the hand still trapped in the weapon.

"P-please," she whispered again, as clearly as she could. She swayed and gazed at the purple floor, not expecting help, but Nightwing sighed and muttered what might have been a curse of his own.

"It says For Honor",' he instructed, and she was surprised by the pain in his voice.

Darsey shivered, despite the pulsing of the energy field and her numbed lips repeated, "F-for hon-n-nor."

The response was instant. The hilt spasmed and threw her hand free. Darsey collapsed to the ground. She slumped there in exhausted relief waiting for her twitching muscles to still, but before she could recover enough to stand, Nightwing's boots moved into her field of vision. "Where have I seen this before?" she wondered with a shaky laugh.

There was no response and Darsey made an effort to look up and meet Nightwing's gaze. "Thank you. I'm sorry I took your sword. It just seemed to be a day for taking things without asking."

The kres made no reply, but gave her a quick, troubled look before reaching up to the blade still quivering in the ceiling. His hand curled into the hilt, which settled around it without hesitation. It was impossible to tell if the energy tremor that thrummed through it disturbed him. He gripped the sword with no visible sign of discomfort and his shoulder tensed before he flexed his wrist with a practiced twist to rip the sword free. A chunk of red ceiling fell with it, to leave an open wound in the roof above. An energy field shimmered on the far side, like a pool of water made viscous by spilt oil. However, Nightwing was oblivious to the vandalism she'd accidentally inflicted. He had eyes only for the sword.

Darsey pushed herself to her feet and moved carefully to his side, where she could safely study the weapon. The words written in gold on its blade were clearly visible and she wondered what they meant. She briefly considered asking the kres, but a glance at his expression changed her mind.

"I'm sorry," Darsey repeated softly, and Nightwing snorted, but gave her another troubled look.

"So am I," he admitted. He turned to the bed before she could answer and rewrapped the sword with quick, almost frenzied motions. He carried it to the console, still attached to his hand, and only growled "for Honor" at the last possible moment as it was drawn back into compression storage. It vanished and he sagged to lean against the curved computer face.

"Wing-" Darsey started uncertainly, but he turned back to her immediately and his expression was apologetic.

"I used no thought before taking something from you. I believed the com was a better gift, but what I gave you had nothing of your home or people in it. Darse, I'm sorry."

She tried a smile, but he remained serious.

"More important, I won't do such again. Deal?" This time, he did smile, and reached out to offer his arm.

Darsey looked up against a sudden prickling in her eyes and eventually back down when she moved to calmly shake Nightwing's forearm. There was a moment of amicable silence and then his grin widened as he opened his mouth to speak. However, he glanced down at their joined arms first and noticed something else. A small package still lay on the ground between them.

Darsey looked down too and saw the scrap of cloth with surprise, but no apprehension. "Oh yeah. It dropped a bit," she said without concern, and pried her arm free from the kres' suddenly immobile hand. She bent to retrieve the dilmah and, as she picked it up, the soft wrapping slid across her palm to reveal a gleam of gold. "Oh," Darsey breathed and gently lifted away the last of the cloth.

A bracelet so delicate that it was almost transparent gleamed back at her. A gem studded filigree of gold and silver wound intricately around a thicker strand of white gold.

"Wow," Darsey whispered. "This must be worth a fortune. No wonder you hid it from Greon." There was still no response from Wing, but she couldn't check his reaction, because that would involve looking away from the bracelet. It flowed between her fingers, scattering light and she had to fight a sudden urge to try it on. She locked her fingers round it instead and raised it to her face, so at least she could keep looking. The design reminded her of the threads plaited through Wing's hair and that comparison brought another insight.

"It's hair," she whispered, holding the bracelet closer still to study the white-blonde strand that formed its heart. "A lock of hair. Whose, though? It's obviously not yours." She made herself look up, but her smile died instantly.

Nightwing's jaw was rigid and his face harder than she had ever seen it.

"I didn't mean-" she started hesitantly, and was silenced by a hiss.

"Put it back," he ordered tautly.

Darsey quickly re-wrapped the offending object and stepped to the console. She had to move around Nightwing, who was frozen in place. He refused to look at her or the keepsake while she moved to store it.

"Done," Darsey announced brusquely and turned with her hands on her hips to confront the kres. "Is this something we can talk about?"

"No," Nightwing stated coldly to the far wall. "Not now or ever. But for the other, not today." He swivelled stiffly and took two long strides to pass through the door field, still refusing to look at her.

Darsey was left alone yet again, staring in surprise at a closed door.

"What about rebound?" she called forlornly, and belatedly understood what he meant by 'the other' and 'not today'. "What about breakfast?" She sighed and shook her head. "I guess that's not today either."

14

How to get a Head

The t'ssaa's crest sprang upright, but Blizzard faced it without flinching. The gold and blue crown was stiff with outrage and started to thrum with real fury. Engorged spines pulled taut until it jutted forward to frame its owner's face and surround Blizzard's head too. His peripheral vision was draped in shimmering scales, but the kres ignored them to concentrate on the upright pupils of his t'ssaa contact. He glared at the alien as the two stood toe to toe, poised and unblinking.

The t'ssaa's tongue flickered, but it was present only as a hologram and presumably sensed nothing from its foe.

"Tssssahgsssssss," it cursed, and Blizzard sniffed in response.

"Agreed. This anger serves no purpose. I truly regret my criticism, but an explanation is needed. I agreed to pay for Nightwing's death. Why does he still live?"

"Zzzyt. Was not possible. We have use for kres too and ourss has precedence."

The reptile's crest settled with scarcely a rattle and Blizzard felt immediate relief. Confronting a furious t'ssaa was daunting, despite the distance between them. It was hard to be polite in response to such disappointment, but the slitted gaze of the reptile helped. Blizzard swallowed and then raised a finger gravely to show reluctant agreement with the decision to let Nightwing live.

"I thought 'impossible' never applied to t'ssaa," he said carefully, but his contact's eyes simply blinked in amusement.

"Does not," the lizard agreed, "but ssome goalss need restraint. We wished to examine the sspesimen further and could not fight. We would have won, but the puny male might have known damage."

"Which would have been most perfect," Blizzard pointed out between freshly gritted teeth. "Delightful, in truth. I want Nightwing fully acquainted with damage. Where is the problem? I hired you to kill a single kres. I gave you his where-as-was so that you could find him for that purpose. I repeat, why does Nightwing live? What is this goal of yours?"

There was a moment of charged silence, interrupted only by an ominous rattle as the t'ssaa's crest stirred against its neck. "We wished medical ssamples from healthy kres," he finally admitted.

"Fine," said Blizzard brusquely, ignoring the implications of that. His need to be rid of his rival was far more urgent than any t'ssaa plots. "Why not kill him after gaining your samples?"

"The possibility of damage remained and we did not have all we needed. If you do not ssend half payment now, we will accept ten percent as gesture of faith."

"I'm not certain-sure I have faith. You've totally failed me in this. What fix do you plan?"

The crest leapt to full stretch again, thrumming to underline its owner's angry answer. "We are t'ssaa. We do not fail on trade. You asked for death and we will give it. In our own time. Deadline was never sstipulated. We will find this male again. We will take what we need and you may have the head. This is good deal. Yess?"

"Ah." Blizzard sighed softly, and then smiled for the first time since contacting the t'ssaa. "Yes, truly a good deal. I'll send you ten percent now and the rest when Nightwing's head is verified by my scan. Fair?"

"Tssah," came the satisfied reply. "Fair it is. The head will come through our ssmuggler link."

"Excellent. I'll look forward to my mail. Good hunting, Payiss."

"Alwayss."

15

Assassination

Darsey was sweaty and exhausted. She felt as though her body had been pummelled in a space wreck and she stumbled down the lengthy corridor behind Wing, wondering if she had ever been happier. The thought shocked her and she stopped in surprise. It seemed disrespectful to her lost crew to be enjoying herself on the Bandit, but she had to admit that it was true. She had definitely been having fun. For nearly two hours.

Darsey abruptly realized that she was falling behind and hurried after Wing, reluctant to be left alone in a dim passage that looked flat, but felt like a switchback to walk. She leaned forward to climb the corridor as it started to rise even more steeply and her muscles protested at the strangely invisible slope. She pushed on until her boots suddenly slipped and she almost skidded into Nightwing as the uphill section abruptly changed to downhill. She shook her head at the unexpected switch in gravity and wondered if it was related to the weightless rebound caves that dominated the recreation section they were in.

Darsey had no idea why Wing had kept his promise to teach her rebound so soon after their fight, but she wasn't about to complain. Despite the passage of less than a week, her violation of his files might never have happened. Neither had mentioned it again and she suspected that Pertwing had been ordered to forget the incident. Darsey had learnt from the console that the bracelet was a kres wedding band, but nothing else. Pertwing had remained resolutely silent about further details.

Wing stopped and looked back in time to see her skid down another invisible slope. "Need a rest?" he asked with a friendly smile, steadying Darsey as she slid to a stop beside him.

She blinked at the long corridor still ahead of them and the shadows that hinted at unseen hills, but shook her head.

"No, I'm okay. I was just thinking."

"Now I'm worried," he stated, but his grin took any edge from the comment. "Would you like to share the thought?"

"I was thinking that rebound is fun."

"That it is."

"But I was also wondering about this corridor. Why the slope?"

"Character."

"I beg your pardon?" Darsey asked, blinking in surprise, and Wing looked at her uncertainly.

"Is that not what you say when somesuch is wrong with the Bandit because it's old? Character?"

"Oh yeah, character. I'm not sure I understand, though. Is it something to do with the rebound caves being weightless?"

Wing smiled encouragement at her guess, but then frowned and threw out an arm to strike the wall. Darsey jumped away, until he swayed and she darted back to offer support, tucking herself under his arm.

"Are you okay?"

"Sure. I'm stellar. Must've slipped between an 'up' and a 'down' patch, that's all." The kres straightened carefully, before stepping away from Darsey and the wall. "See? Possibly just shocked because you're right. The different demands for gravity in the caves and the close-by cabins would need energy plus to orient the full passage. It's easier to use multiple gravitational axes, which means the slope changes all along the corri-" Nightwing broke off again and shook his head. "P'raps I'm explaining too well. It seems like the passage is twisting."

"Definitely not. Wing, are you sure you're fine?"

"Truly, I'm good too."

"Really. Then why are you holding onto me?"

Nightwing looked down at his hands and seemed shocked to see them clutching Darsey's shoulders. "Shorry, Darsh...ee," he mumbled, before tilting to one side. "Bad. A-shash-a... ashins... kill me."

"Wing!" Darsey stepped into his collapse and braced herself under his arm just before he fell. She pivoted to swing his limp form into the wall, pushing him hard against its support and managing to keep him upright. His face was pale and as translucent as amber beneath its faint glitter.

"Wing!" she hissed urgently, but there was no response. She touched his forehead and it felt sweaty, but not unusually hot. Her fingers slid to the pulse in his neck and she felt her own heart race as she found it. It hammered against his throat, quick and thready with unexpected surges.

Wing slumped further and Darsey cursed as he started to slide sideways. She used her fear, giving it free rein to help her find the strength to haul him upright again. She wedged one shoulder beneath his underarm and took a deep breath. Calm returned and she reached down to awkwardly access her new com. "Computer-"

"My name is Pertwing," the console's voice responded, forcing Darsey to control her temper as well as her terror.

"Something's wrong with Nightwing. Do you know what?"

The glow of a diagnostic scan flickered from Nightwing's com and its aura settled around his forearm. If Pertwing was concerned, it hid it as well as Darsey. "He is metabolising over two hundred units of gene-tailored anaesthezine," the machine answered without alarm. "Sweat activated and with a combination rate too slow to alert sensors. It was made specifically to render Nightwing, and Nightwing only, unconscious."

"He's been drugged?" Darsey's mind raced. "How dangerous is it? Can you counteract the effect?"

"Anaesthezine is seldom fatal. Any genuine poison would have been scanned by ship security. However, Nightwing's com is not a med bay, and I have no way to alter its process. Shall I alert the ship's healer?"

"No. Don't tell anyone Nightwing's unconscious." Darsey twisted carefully and reached up to lightly slap a golden cheek. "C'mon," she coaxed, resisting the urge to shake him. "Wing, whoever drugged you is looking for you right now. Wake up. Somebody's coming to kill you, so snap out of it." She bit her lower lip before slapping him harder, but there was no response. "How long will he be unconscious?"

"Fifteen minutes plus," the com replied.

"Damn." Darsey readjusted his weight against her and tried to ignore the growing strain. She considered trying to drag him, but with the unpredictable slope of the rebound corridor that seemed prohibitively slow. "O-kay," she muttered and took a deep breath. "We're on our way back. Pertwing, let me know if anyone approaches. Can you do that?"

"Yes, within a limited range."

Darsey nodded absently and then forgot the console. She reached to grip Nightwing's nearer wrist, running through a training exercise from years ago in her mind. Satisfied that she remembered the process, she placed her feet wide and braced herself as she bent forward to take his weight across her shoulders. She pulled hard on his arm, while thrusting against his thigh with all of her com-enhanced strength. Unfortunately, she was stronger than she expected and Nightwing was lighter. Much lighter. She propelled his limp form onto her shoulders at speed and it showed no sign of stopping. Oh, crap.

Darsey grabbed for Wing's hip, just in time to stop him flying straight over her and into the far wall. His body fell, to drape awkwardly across her shoulders and she staggered in a circle as if she was drugged too. If only. Why did the slave have to get stuck with all the work? A giggle escaped Darsey and she clamped down on hysteria even harder than Wing's legs.

Despite her efforts his body slipped further, until his torso swayed beside her while she clung grimly to his thighs. She took a steadying breath and then a careful step, but her burden was too unbalanced and she staggered into the wall. She cursed loudly, almost covering Pertwing's incredulous comment.

"What do you attempt, human? Inverting Nightwing will not reverse unconsciousness."

"No kidding. How heavy is this guy?"

"Converting to the kilo measure you filed, Nightwing weighs fifty-six kilograms."

Darsey stopped trying to tug her burden further into position and slumped against the wall in surprise. "You're joking right? That's impossible. He's way too tall and muscular to be that light."

"Hollow bones that are carbon based," the computer explained brusquely. "I sense mutt approaching."

"Can you help me? Turn off the gravity in this section or something?"

"Negative. I do not have such authority. However, I note that Nightwing's centre of balance across your shoulders is still twenty cents to the left-"

"Thank you very much," Darsey snarled. "I'm aware of that." She chewed her lip while she leaned against the wall and hunted for inspiration.

Voices echoed along the passage and her pulse accelerated.

"Pertwing, could the technology used to camouflage a ship be used to hide a person?"

"Yes, but it would take more power than your com can channel. Two mutt are approaching from the leeward of the ship."

"I have no idea what direction that is, but I can hear them. Are they dressed for rebound?"

"No."

"Great, we'll go back and hide in a cave." Darsey pushed herself urgently from the wall and at the same time managed to shrug Wing's comatose form into a more secure position. She took a step that was fairly straight and then another. Her third stride wavered and she had to stop before momentum unbalanced her again. She stood swaying and sweating heavily as muscles already tired from rebound demanded some rest. "Computer," Darsey gasped, "can the com disguise Nightwing?"

"It does not have the finesse needed to hold convincing facial features, or the power to disguise his total body."

"Just- ah- just color his hair. Brown, blond and blue, like ManDaNiah's. What species is he?"

"ManDaNiah is a gentik, but Nightwing is unconscious and that is what his hunters will look for-"

"Do it," Darsey ordered in a clipped tone, and Pertwing silently obeyed.

Nightwing's hair shimmered briefly and from the corner of her eye, Darsey caught a gleam of brown and blue. She raised her head, wincing at the pain in her neck, and looked down the twenty metres of twilit corridor that still stood between them and the closest rebound cave. The murmur of the approaching mutt grew clearer. Their voices were worried and she made out the word, "Jileea".

Darsey took another careful step toward the sound and this time kept going. Her pace was slow, but steady and she breathed deeply. The tremor of the approaching guards' tread carried to her feet and the name, "Nightwing" also rumbled around the corner.

Darsey grimaced as she panted her way up and down the switchback passage. It seemed this drama was being played out by her prime suspects, but this time she'd have to face down Jileea's blaster without Wing's help. The mutt's voices were now a constant low rumble, a thunder of concern about failing their boss and they were nearly at the corner ahead.

However, Darsey ignored the assassins completely. All of her attention was on walking and a simple series of steps that were straight. The fact that she was walking toward two mutt who were hurrying toward her was irrelevant. The cave entrance beckoned from just before the corner and she moved steadily toward it.

"Human," Pertwing's voice hissed from the com, but Darsey was too close to potential enemies to risk responding. "You must go the other way. You must run. The mutt are close and they are searching the rebound caves."

I know, Darsey thought as clearly as she could. I'm counting on it. We'll pass through the search line and be safe. We'd never make it to the link at this pace. It's over two hundred metres away and you can bet they'll be watching that too. Can the com move Nightwing's limbs?

There was no response and Darsey wondered if Pertwing understood the message. She took another stride, long and desperate, as the noise from the mutt reached the corner. The step was too ambitious and she started to fall, so she threw herself at the court entrance with the last of her strength. She saw a mutt's leg appear around the corner and then her body toppled forward. Nightwing flew over her head and she collapsed into the cave after him, but neither hit the floor hard. They tumbled into the weightless space and everything slowed. Darsey's momentum drifted her into firm padding, before bouncing her back to the middle of the oval chamber. She floated across it and saw Wing turning limply beneath her. Her need for rest was almost overwhelming, but adrenaline kept her moving.

"Pertwing!" she hissed, and was reassured by an instant response.

"Ye, the com can control the arm it's attached to and move Wing somewhat. I'll send it proper signals. The mutt are six metres away. Four. Two."

The console fell silent, but Darsey was already moving. She gave a triumphant shout and shot herself across the sphere, between the mutt and Nightwing.

"My game, ManDaNiah," she crowed. Now, Pertwing.

Wing's com pulsed and he seemed to push away from the lower quadrant. His left arm rose in the traditional salute offered to a victor. Darsey responded with the requisite nod and Nightwing's arm pulled the rest of his torso down in an answering bow.

"Another game?" she called to his unconscious form, and his com pulsed again to pull him to the central starting point.

"Game good?" grunted a voice from beyond the chamber, and Darsey swivelled in apparent surprise.

She saw two mutt through the entry field and to her relief they were both strangers. They seemed to be on their sides, so she sent a thought to her com. Its gentle surge tilted her until she was on the same orientation as the mutt in the corridor.

"Sure it's good," she answered casually. "I'm winning. I don't know how a gentik thought to beat a mermaridian."

The two hulking males laughed at the idea and Darsey had to hide a shudder at the gleam of their teeth. Neither seemed to have any lips. They were lost within silky silver hair in one case and rolls of fat in the other.

"What you'n think?" the bigger mutt yelled toward Nightwing, making his belly ripple with anger and indignation.

Wing floated with his back to the strangers, but his left hand tilted in a gesture that was unfamiliar to Darsey.

"Too late say'n 'no matter' now," grunted the other mutt, and both laughed again.

"Much too late," Darsey agreed. "Do you want to watch? I certain-sure like an audience."

"Ye," they agreed without hesitation, and Darsey hid her shock. Perhaps the mutt were suspicious of her. "Great," she said super brightly. "So you're both off shift. You don't have any work to do?"

Their synchronised response was so dismayed that she had to hide a relieved smile. Both mutt gaped and their horror was obvious.

"Work," they groaned and exchanged a fearful glance.

"Us'n work," the hairy one apologised, before they both backed away. The other nudged his partner and hesitated.

"Not shift. This not our'n shift. Not work, no. Just fun. Fun for boss. Or friend. Yes. Boss our'n friend. So, do for her now'n."

"Hurry," the other hissed, and pulled at the rolls of fat encasing his partner's arm.

The two bowed deeply and turned away. They moved off amid more anxious muttering and Darsey's legs turned to jelly. If there had been any gravity in the rebound courts, she would have fallen. She sagged anyway and the movement wafted her lower to bounce gently against the curve of the cave. Wing drifted across the space above her and his com pulled his hand down to slap his thigh repeatedly in a slow sarcastic clap.

"Miraculous," Pertwing drawled. "The primitive can out-think mutt. What a triumph for humans. Do you realize you've just put an enemy between Nightwing and safety? How do you plan to return him to me?"

"Why would I want to?" Darsey inquired mildly. "Coming home to you doesn't exactly thrill me."

"I can keep Wing safe," Pertwing snapped in its first outwardly agitated response.

"Perhaps, but his quarters are going to be watched. This section has been searched and cleared, so it's going to be ignored. When they don't find Wing they'll think about searching again, but by the time they realize he's slipped their net it'll be too late. In less than ten minutes he'll be conscious and able to take care of himself. All I have to do is keep us out of sight 'til then. The rebound ruse works well-"

"Against mutt," Pertwing interrupted, "but whoever planned this is certain-sure no mutt. When they fail to find Nightwing, they're likely to re-search the rebound courts. An assassin would never risk using too many mutt, so the courts were likely the sole place they covered. You can expect another visit of a more terminal nature."

"Well, a terminal would know," Darsey quipped, but the flush of her success was rapidly changing to unease. She chewed her lower lip and looked thoughtfully at Wing, who had come to rest floating at an angle across the court.

Unfortunately, the entire passage side of the cave was transparent to allow spectators an excellent view. Hiding inside the brightly lit court was impossible. Unless...

"Pertwing, I need Nightwing's com."

"You have your own com, human."

"No, I need his and I need all the power it can give. Enough for all-over camouflage."

"Impossible. I can't channel energy enough-"

"No. Not the sort of disguise you're thinking of. I don't want to be invisible. I just need enough color to blend with my surroundings. Can you manage that? It won't have to stand up to close inspection." I hope.

There was no answer from Pertwing, and Darsey threw herself impatiently across the court. The pulse was perfectly judged and her legs flexed to halt her easily against an intersection of colors that formed part of an eye-twisting pattern around the hollow sphere.

"I'll float here," she explained, "exactly where the purple, lime and puce meet. Color my body in the same way and a mermaridian will look straight past me. Especially if you lower the lighting. What do you think?"

"What you describe is possible," Pertwing admitted. "Lower lighting is easy-as. Greon encourages such saving. The colors are more difficult and will use extra energy. So much power may overload even Nightwing's com and such a drain will be noted in the nest."

"It doesn't matter. If we use it, we've been found anyway. Spies on the bridge won't matter. They might even help. Greon can't be part of this. If he wanted Nightwing dead, he'd just do it, but my disgusting owner seems to be a decent senior. Greon might help us-"

"Idiot," Pertwing interrupted happily. "The leader will watch his crew die with pleasure. He wants only the strongest to serve. However, I will release the com to you. Nightwing's survival requires it. I will also add any power that you need."

"Then we have nothing to worry about," Darsey stated firmly and belatedly hoped that Pertwing didn't ask about the fingers she had crossed behind her back.

A click that echoed from the curving walls announced the release of Nightwing's com and Darsey kicked off to snatch it from the air as she swept across the chamber. She flipped to push off from the far wall and shot back to her lurid intersection. Two hours of rebound had made her body well used to the moves needed to cover the court in pursuit of the correct energy pulse. A back thrust stopped her in position and she snapped Wing's com into place on her other wrist. It hung there for a moment, loose around her smaller arm, before gradually tightening.

There was a brief sensation of uniform coolness as the com settled into place and then a euphoric surge so strong that Darsey's arms and legs jerked wide. Her pulse leapt as she breathed in sharply and the world seemed to come into focus around her, less colorful, but clearer than usual. Her body spasmed again as it struggled to surf a wave of energy unlike anything she had felt before.

The healthiest and fittest moments of Darsey's life seemed weak and sickly in comparison to the wellbeing infusing her now. A sleeve of energy flowed from the com to encase every cell and maximise its function. She breathed in sharply once more, and then sighed as her physiology started to adjust to sensations that were far beyond any extreme it had previously known. That sigh seemed to last an age and her next breath was just as slow and shallow. Respiration that would once have suited deep meditation was all her enhanced metabolism needed.

Darsey shook her head in amazement and nearly twisted it off her shoulders. "Ow," she complained automatically, before realising that there was no corresponding pain. She rubbed her neck carefully, and came close to putting her hand through the wall when she swung it down again.

Darsey gave a startled laugh that suddenly became an anguished cry. The euphoria sweeping her body vanished and she was swamped by pain flowing from her newly commed wrist. The hurt was so intense that she froze in place, unable to do more than gasp sharply, dragging air past her teeth and into lungs on fire. She managed that single breath and then her body convulsed, thrashing across the cave with full combat strength. She twisted and spun, almost kicking herself in the back of the head with one heel, while the other smashed through the strengthened curve of the wall. She felt as though she was tearing herself apart.

However, before Darsey could find another breath to scream, the pain disappeared. It stopped as abruptly as it had started. She slipped seamlessly from unimaginable hurt back to utter wellbeing. The transition was so sudden and so welcome that anything beyond her body became irrelevant. She concentrated on simply breathing and each lungful absorbed her. That simple and familiar act felt so good that she slipped into a reverie, oblivious to anything else. She was jerked back to the present by an unwelcome voice.

"That seemed odd, but com enhancement does take adjustment," Pertwing instructed testily. "Try to show some restraint, human."

"I show restraint every time I talk to you, machine. And if that's a warning, it was late."

"Perhaps, but this one is not. A mermaridian is fast closing from the link."

Darsey's breathing deepened slightly, but it was remarkably easy to stay calm. She glanced at Nightwing, and a kick of her foot took her to his side. She hooked the same foot beneath his chest and hoisted his floating form into her arms with a single flick of her toe. "Party time," she murmured, "and we need a piñata, my friend."

16

The Hunt

Jileea was moving so fast that the energy credits she had saved since joining the ship were almost exhausted. Her com field set her skin tingling and she swatted absently at a forearm as she leapt from the link to land ten metres along Rebound Road. An energy sink was anchored to cells throughout her body – powering muscles and protecting her from harm. She checked the time her com had left in combat mode and cursed all mutt. She should have known better than to trust them as an unsupervised part of her team.

I had no choice. Loyalty was a must. Drak. How hard is it to find an unconscious kres?

Jileea tried to find some anger for the mutt, but there was only a distant exasperation. They tried their utmost and she had absolutely no reason to expect better results. Plus, she was far too excited to be annoyed. She could feel the Luck flowing under her skin, raising goosebumps. It was an underground river and she was a mote in the current, being swept into darkness, or out to sea. She hardly cared which. She was gambling and caught deep in the thrill. She could almost understand how her father had bet her and lost, in the wager pits. Almost.

Jileea looked up and froze before her next bounding leap. It would propel her to the end of the first corridor, but she locked her muscles in place to halt instantly, dropping to a crouch, with one foot on the flat and one still raised on a shadowy hill. Someone was slumped across the threshold of the first rebound cave. She hissed quietly as her scan stabbed out to brutally analyse a golden forearm that had been thrown across the passage. Her com pulse shattered DNA to give an unequivocal reading. The still figure was genuinely unconscious and was definitely Nightwing.

"At last," Jileea breathed, and a twitch of her legs took her to the helpless officer in a single stride. She stood over her Senior, who was sprawled face down across the corridor. She was relieved that his features were hidden and suddenly realized that killing in cold blood might be harder than she thought. A surge of remorse surprised her and she sniffed in annoyance. Nightwing was never especially friendly to her, that would have been bizarre on such a ship, but he was always fair, which was almost as strange.

Jileea crouched uncertainly and threw a cursory glance at the rebound cave. Whoever had been playing against the kres had clearly had the good sense to leave. Jileea looked back down at her victim and he groaned, causing her hand to flex automatically and target her com.

Wing's eyelids flickered and his arms tensed as his hands scrabbled weakly against the shadowed floor. Drakkit. Jileea rose to stand over him, moving as if in slow motion.

"It's too bad, Nightwing. We could have had fun before it got to this." Jileea's arm slowly rose, but she still hesitated before firing. She leaned over again to stare at his forearm, and her upper lip creased in a frown. The gaping welt left by her scan was exactly what she expected, but something else was not. Her lips puckered further and then parted with a hiss. "Where's his drakking com?"

"Here," said an unexpected voice from the cave, and Jileea's world exploded. Her head flew back as someone struck her with com-enhanced speed. She went with the blow, sliding back across the passage, blinking furiously in an effort to focus. Unfortunately, she failed completely. She must actually be unconscious, and dreaming, because an enemy seemed to be closing on her that looked like Wing's primitive slave, painted in surreal colors. Certain-sure she was hallucinating. The vision closed on her again and punched her in the face.

Drak. Jileea staggered in pain, completely disoriented. Dreams weren't supposed to hurt. She blinked and realized she was down on one knee. She bounced upright, straight into the slave's next attack.

The primitive spun to deliver a roundhouse kick that made Jileea stagger. She was down again, on both knees this time and tried to track the next blow, but it landed with numbing force. Her own program was completely outmatched. She had a blurred impression of a kaleidoscope creature spinning toward her, a bizarre jig-saw horror, before stars filled her vision. Her enhanced muscles tensed uselessly. She never even realized there was another blow coming. A boot slammed into her wrist, which snapped when her com shattered and the world around her exploded into shards of pain and darkness. The very last blow Jileea felt was the floor striking her face.

17

The Fight

Slivers of gold shrieked past Wing and a metallic mist settled over him. The strange shroud made him cough, but he'd been dimly aware of the sounds of combat and they encouraged his instinctive struggle to stand. He wedged his arms beneath his impossibly weak body and managed to lever himself onto all fours. As he rose, someone beside him went down. The crash of that fall shook the corridor and Wing blinked furiously in an effort to clear his drug-blurred vision. The dim figure rolling toward him slowly came into startling focus. He was stunned to recognise Jileea, clearly unconscious and no longer a threat. Her twisting form flopped to a stop against his arm and he squinted at it carefully, unwilling to trust his vision.

"How?" Wing croaked in disbelief. "Who?"

He looked up to discover the answer to his questions was more outrageous than he expected. He had not been saved by a fellow crewmember or by Pertwing, or even by Greon. Instead, he saw the human leaning casually against a wall.

"Darsey?"

"Surprised?"

"More than you could credit. How-?" he began again, and then noticed the gold gleaming around her wrist.

Wing's hand flew to his own wrist and was met by bare skin. He grimaced and managed to push himself up into a kneeling position. "So that's the truth of it. No wonder I feel weak. Can I have my com back?"

Darsey placed her hands on her hips and bounced appraisingly. "I don't know. This full enhancement thing... it feels amazing. I could get very used to it."

Nightwing sighed and pushed himself to his feet, and then awkwardly upright. The wall seemed to be at an angle, but he leaned against it anyway and ignored the slope. "All right. What do you wish?"

"How about a 'please'?"

"Please, then."

Darsey considered him thoughtfully before shaking her head. "I don't think so. It wasn't much of a please. In fact, it would be pathetic if it was compared to anything except the 'thank you' I got when you woke up alive."

Nightwing grimaced again and gestured down the corridor toward the link. "We need to go. I was truly grateful to wake and find all my organs in their usual place and I am debted to you, but could we talk about this back in our cabin? I'm sure you recall the dangers of lingering in corridors."

Darsey shuddered, despite the buffering of Wing's high-tech com, before nodding brusquely and stepping forward to help him straighten. He leaned heavily on her forearm and they turned toward the link together, but instantly froze. The corridor ahead was darkened by a hulking silhouette. An intruder blocked most of the dim light, as well as the path to the link. Wing briefly thought that a mutt had found them, but then realized it was worse. Many times worse.

"Greon," he husked, and was answered by a thoughtful hum.

The Leader's hair flashed silver in the faint light from the ceiling and walls with each step he took toward them. Darsey tried to back away and Wing struggled to hold her in place. He had the same urge, but trying to flee definitely wouldn't help.

"Nightwing, Nightwing, Nightwing," Greon chided softly, but his voice filled the undulating passage as effectively as his body. "It seems you've cut me from your data loop. Is this the ugly and useless slave you've kept so well hid? And wearing your com? I feel... surprise." He hesitated and his eyes gleamed as sharp as his boots. "An emotion I most abhor."

Greon stopped his advance to look down at Jileea's limp form. He dug a toe beneath her hip and flipped her over so that her relaxed features stared slackly at the ceiling. "And Jileea. Showing initiative I'm pleased to note, but still failing. That's not good. Not good at all. What can I do with you both? I leave you to fight for rank and the slave wins." Greon's lips thinned with genuine anger and he snorted in disgust. "What type of officers are you?"

"The best you have," Nightwing dared to point out, but bit back further words as Greon's boot tapped angrily in response.

"Not what I wish to recall," the Leader snarled. "Useless-as trash. An honorless kres and a debted mermaridian. You're the most pathetic examples of both your species. It would be kindness-plus to kill you now." He paused as if seriously considering it and Darsey started to dance from foot to foot, almost stepping on Wing's toes. She must have ordered combat mode and his life was about to get more complicated than ever. He tried to catch her eye, but Greon's cold gaze shifted to her and that brooding look seemed to offer Darsey the incentive to stand still. She froze again, before shifting sideways to shrink against Wing.

"I'm most angry with you," Greon announced conversationally. He was clearly still talking to Wing, but his gaze remained locked on Darsey. "No wonder you claimed this female and then prepped us to forget. You were planning to sell her, free of any ship share."

Wing dipped his head, before bowing forward in deep apology. "You've caught me, sah. I'm sorry. I beg forgiveness."

"Fine, fine, but never do such again. We'll swing past an auction and pick up top price for her." Greon paused to lick his lips, while his gaze moved over Darsey. "This pleases me greatly. I never imagined her so pretty. Get a good price, Wing and then we'll grab some more primitives from her system. A few at first. We won't flood the sales, but if they're of use we'll buy containers and hit harder. Sell into the mines, arenas, brothels. This could make me a fortune. Thanks be to Luck."

Greon dragged his gaze from Darsey and looked down at his sprawled Data Senior. "As for Jileea, I have no issue with her trying to kill you, but botching it to the outer is aggravating. She gets to be mutt-plaything for the rest of the tour. You can see to that, Senior." He turned to go, but looked back with a snap of his fingers. "Oh and Nightwing? One thing more..."

Greon's fist slammed into Wing's temple and when he staggered the mermaridian's knee rose viciously. The practiced blow punched into Wing's stomach, making him groan and crumple, while Greon grunted with delight. That animal noise sprayed spittle across the kres, before the Leader moved smoothly down the slope to deliver more punishment. Wing curled into a ball in anticipation, but the kicks never came.

"No!" Darsey's yell jerked Wing from his crouch in time to see her attack.

"No," he screamed in a desperate echo, but it was too late. She thrust herself from the wall with no apparent thought of danger, to pivot lightly around Greon's outstretched arm. Her leg rose as she spun and the kick took him in the face. Its force hurled him back up the passage, while his roar rang from the walls.

Greon flew in a low curve, to clear the gravity well of the nearest corridor hill and hit the floor on its far side. The entire passage shook once, and then again when he bounced further, to slam into the next rising axis. There was a charged silence while he gaped blankly at Darsey and then the screech of sweaty flesh when he slid down the improbably tilted ground to collapse, slumped and stunned. He shook his head slowly, looking as much bewildered as dazed, and saliva flew to join the trail of sweat glistening along the floor behind him. Greon cupped his head in his hands, prodding it with his fingers, digging them deep as if his face was too numb to easily feel. He looked up with purple blood bubbling between the fingers clutched over his nose. He roared in outrage and a spray of violet stained the wall.

"Gods," Nightwing coughed. He scrabbled to rise before Greon could, pushing himself upright against gravity and his own weakness. His body unfolded stiffly and he clutched at Darsey's leg to rise awkwardly beside her. He staggered, but somehow managed to find his balance and step away from her support to place himself between Darsey and Greon. He turned back to face her while behind him the Leader banged at the walls and floor in fury.

Nightwing's hand flew to Darsey's wrist and the com she'd borrowed snapped open to fall onto his proffered arm and seal around it. She convulsed in reaction and his hands flew out again to grip her shoulders. He had to hold her up, especially when the corridor started to shake under the blows of Greon's tantrum.

Darsey finally lifted her head, with a wan smile that froze when she saw Wing's expression. It was the only warning he could give her. He grimaced and released her left shoulder. She frowned in response, but had no time to brace herself before his free hand swung forward to slap her hard.

The blow must have jarred Darsey from head to heels. It certainly slammed her sideways and only Nightwing's grip on her shoulder kept her upright. He opened his fronds wide to share her pain and felt his own cheek crisp with the heat of his blow. He set his jaw and hoped it was enough. He truly didn't want to strike her again. Their gazes met and he was the one who flinched.

Darsey's voice was husky with tears. "I can't believe you did that," she whispered, before clearing her throat. "And I can't believe how much it hurt."

"I'll regen it when Greon's gone," Wing whispered back, but she looked at him blankly.

"I didn't mean physically."

Wing's hair tugged against his scalp and he fought the urge to look away. Instead he leaned in closer, to glare into blue eyes that were right on the edge of becoming pools. "You're a stupid little girl. We should have saved the others instead. The rest of your crew should have lived. You'll never go home, because you don't deserve to go home."

There was a moment of utter stillness and then Darsey's lips twisted, followed by her face. She turned her head in an effort to hide her weeping, but Wing was quick to destroy that refuge. He gripped her chin with a hand that still stung from the blow and turned her face toward Greon.

The frothing Leader had found his feet and loomed over Wing. His bulk filled the passage and his jaw jutted into the light, adding another contour to the corridor's odd gullies as he studied Darsey. Initially Wing feared Greon was still angry, but his smile had simply been blurred by the blood masking his mouth. He was actually delighted by the human's distress. His frenzied head movements finally stilled and he watched her weep with satisfaction. Wing should have been satisfied too, but he felt strangely empty.

"Charming," the Leader murmured. "Quite delightful." He took a deep breath as though sucking in Darsey's pain and smiled while he plastered a regen strip across his nose.

Wing realized he was shaking and abruptly released the girl, before turning fully to claim the Leader's attention.

"And why did you hit her, Nightwing?" Greon crooned, as if asking a school child the most basic of facts.

The kres balanced carefully, determined to keep his place between Darsey and Greon, even when he turned back to face her. He ground his teeth then stared at her bleakly. "You don't attack the leader. Ever. You don't argue with him. Ever. And you never-times fight back."

Greon nodded happily. "Most good." He flapped a hand vaguely and danced down the slope to stop just behind Nightwing, making the down rise on the back of his neck. "Most good indeed, Wing. Remember Jileea's punishment also, hmmm?"

"Certain-sure, sa-"

Wing half-turned to look down at his would-be assassin and Greon's hand flew forward so that his fist smashed into his Senior's kidney.

Wing cried out at the sudden blow and doubled over to fall to his knees. He clutched his torso and moaned theatrically. Was it time for a scream? No, too early, drakkit. His pain needed be convincing, which meant it had to be real. A pity.

Greon hummed thoughtfully over him, but then turned away, to face Darsey. No, no, no. Drak. That wasn't the plan. Wing tried to uncurl, peeling himself away from his pain and the com made it possible.

Greon closed on Darsey making her back up, all the way to the wall. She halted there, with no more room to retreat and glared at him mutely, holding her cheek with one hand.

"Drakkit! If looks could rend, I'd be total-maimed. Try to smile at auction, girl." Greon stood over her and she stiffened, spurring Wing to hobble forward and join them. He looked up at his Leader, but despite the leer in Darsey's direction there was no real interest in the pirate's eyes. They were glazed and distant with recent pleasure. He spun abruptly on his heel and was humming again when he left. He strode down the passage and quickly merged with the shadows.

There was absolute silence outside the rebound cave. Even the breathing of the trio in front of it was muted. Greon's footsteps faded and eventually Wing sighed, and then carefully released his grip on his aching torso. Darsey watched him dully, as motionless as before. He looked back and grimaced at her lack of expression.

"You planned to sell me all along," she accused in a lifeless monotone. "You weren't keeping me safe from the crew. You weren't sacrificing your pay just to keep me alive. You made me disappear so that you could sell me later and no one would think to ask about profit."

"No," he croaked, but she answered in the same dull voice.

"Yes. I don't know why it took me so long to figure that out. I guess I must be a stupid girl."

Wing straightened slowly and winced when he leaned against the wall beside her, but Darsey slid away from him and his jaw hardened. "Copper com," he barked, and held out an inexplicably shaking hand.

She looked at his palm indifferently for a long moment, but then shrugged her shoulders. She reached out so that her hand was positioned above his, balancing on one leg so that she could stretch across the distance between them without moving closer. The simple com that had been hers opened immediately and fell from her wrist to be caught by Wing.

He slapped it against his own com and it disappeared into storage. He turned away from Darsey and tapped at his wrist for some time, inputting the commands needed to sort this mess out and finally decompressed three regen strips. He suppressed a hiss of pain when he straightened fully to carefully wrap the largest one around his body. He sealed its edge and slid stiffly along the wall to join Darsey, but she backed away from him again.

"Don't touch me!"

"I won't." He had to stretch, this time to offer her a regen pad, leaning as far as he could until she snatched it from his hand. "Darsey. Look at me."

She remained motionless, staring at her feet and holding the healing strip against her face. Her hand fell as the pain in her cheek disappeared, but she still refused to look up.

"Darsey..." Nightwing was at a loss for words for the first time since they met and he studied her helplessly. "Don't you wish to know why I hit you?"

"Because the leader must never, ever, in a million years be bothered. Not even when he's killing you. Oh, you're welcome, by the way." Her chin rose in a familiar gesture of defiance, and he finally managed to catch her eye.

"I lied to him and got caught," Wing explained, willing her to understand. "I'm lucky to still be breathing. That's certain-sure why I hit you, to punish you before he did. I've never seen anyone strike Greon and live. I've never seen anyone cut through his com field like that either."

Wing stopped in the middle of his explanation when the strangeness of that finally pinned him. How could a girl without a com strike through the Leader's shield? Impossible and yet somehow she'd done it. How much was the alien hiding? From all of them? His fronds stirred and uncoiled, reaching for Darsey, but she scarcely blinked. Wing ground his teeth at the horrified apathy he sensed and stopped his intrusion, putting the mystery aside. He began to pace the corridor in front of her, rather than watch her blank face.

"I was totally terrified that he'd kill you. He wanted to see you hurt- no, more than that, he needed to see you hurt and humiliated too. So I acted first, before he could do worse. I'm sorry. Gods, I am, Darsey. I truly am."

Darsey's head fell slowly forward, until she was staring at the floor again. She remained sad, dishevelled and more distant than he had ever seen her. "Perhaps. You've got the excuses all worked out, so maybe you did hit me to help me. And maybe you hid me to protect me, but maybe not. How am I supposed to know, Nightwing?"

"What do you wish me to do?"

"Don't sell me."

Wing wet his lips, but made no response. What could he say? He never wanted to lie to Darsey, but she was asking more than he could promise. If he had to choose between his mission and an alien... He stopped in front of her, but his shoulders hunched and he ducked his head forward until all he could see was his own dark forelock.

"It's simple, Wing," she persisted. "If you have any compassion, if you're really the good guy... don't send me to auction."

It was his turn to study his boots and he did so intently.

"Wing?" she persisted, and he swallowed convulsively.

"Darsey, I'm sorry."

He risked looking up and she seemed to be trying to smile, but there were fresh tears on her lashes. "You say that a lot. Now prove it."

"I can't!" Wing gestured helplessly and forced himself to hold her gaze. "The Leader's involved now and he wants money. It's impossible. I'm-" He swallowed another 'sorry' and looked away.

"You're shit," Darsey said clearly. "You made me believe that you cared. I hate you."

"So why di' ya' save him?" asked a slurred voice, and Jileea uncurled at their feet. She used the wall to push herself upright, watched warily by Wing and as the demoted officer rose, Darsey sank to the floor. She simply crumpled, folding in on herself to slide down the wall until she sat hunched against it, with her legs tucked up against her body. She wrapped her arms around them and rested her forehead on her knees. She looked like a child in a corner, trying to hide from the world. Trying to hide from him. Wing wanted to help, but in the present pass he couldn't afford to care. He had an assassination to plan.

18

Partners

Wing turned his attention far from Darsey slumped at his feet, to his would-be killer, now half-crouched in front of him.

"Enjoy," Jileea instructed him caustically, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Enjoy which?"

"Gloating. Triumph. Throwing me to the mutt." Her voice grew firmer as she named her fears and she almost managed to stand straight. Her cold and uncaring expression was only betrayed by an anxious twist of her lip. She looked defiant and unrepentant as she cradled her damaged wrist and slouched against the wall opposite Wing. She glared at him and he studied her challenging expression with a sympathy that surprised him. Well, perhaps he could still save someone today. If she'd let him.

"I've no skill with gloating," he admitted softly. "Too little chance, mayhap. I've more experience with being gloated at. That's a major part of losing Honor."

There was a brief silence before Jileea laughed sardonically and tossed her silver hair, but the gesture made her gasp and clutch her injured arm. She gulped repeatedly, but whether she was swallowing bile, or tears was uncertain.

One thing Wing could sense clearly from her was pain, so he stepped across the corridor and before she could pull away, laid a regen strip on her arm. It curled around her broken wrist and she gasped, while a lone tear stole down her cheek. "Stop," she ordered thickly, but seemed unable to form any more words.

Wing moved away immediately, with his hands spread wide to either side. See? No threat. It was doubtful she'd hear his thoughts, but perhaps she could feel the emotions. "You must truly hate me," he stated, and her surprise was exactly what he wanted. She looked up from her injury and he tried a wry smile.

"My scan shows you used a gene-tailored, combinant anaesthetic to knock me out. That must have cost credit plus and taken true patience to apply. How much time did it take to introduce each part and then wait for it to pass my met field with no alert? Hours? And how many times did you need to repeat that? How long did it finally take to introduce each innocent component, until the total drug was present in my cells to combine and activate? Days?"

"Weeks, to be safest," Jileea rasped and Wing sensed more surprise from her.

"So, I figure you must hate me," he concluded, but she shook her finger in denial, before freezing with a scowl.

"Why... why am I telling so much?" She dropped her head to study her arm, before laboriously looking up so she could glare at Wing. "My arm, the warmth. It's more than healing. You put a relaxant in the regen strip" she accused, and he raised a forefinger in acknowledgement.

"It was needed. Don't be annoyed that it's helping the conversation. Dialogue really only works when both people speak and your tough, resentful act wasn't helping."

"It's not supposed to help you," she admitted bluntly, before shaking her head in an effort to clear it. "Drak. My tough, resentful act, as you judge it, was supposed to see you dead."

Wing tried to smile, but he could find no warmth to put behind it. Without Darsey his throat would now be very cut. Curse all pirates. This wasn't the life he'd been raised to.

"Your attempt to kill me is irrelevant-" Jileea laughed, but he ignored the interruption. "It no longer matters, because we have the same enemy. Greon is the true target and we need to strike combined if we want to win."

He paused for Jileea's reaction, but she swayed slightly, and then yawned. Her expression was rapidly becoming as listless as Darsey's. He surely knew how to bring out the best in females. "Stay with me, Jil."

"Now you ask." She yawned again. "You know Greon's watching all this?"

"Not, actually. At present, he's watching me hand you to the mutt."

Wing's reminder of the punishment she must have heard Greon order had the desired effect. Jileea straightened against the wall and her forehead crinkled in an effort to concentrate. "So you're sending a false feed to the Leader. Why?"

"If you're keen to start your date..."

"No," she blurted, and her lips creased. "I mean, that's all right. Dialogue's better than such. Though I don't know where your thoughts are. I want to be leader and you're right. You are certain-sure in my way. Your rank comes first. It'll be easy-as to put down Greon once I'm senior. So why would I work with you?"

"Because you're not that stupid. It's never going to be easy to put down Greon. Senior or other. I'm in a position to know and I know that I can't make it work. Unless..."

Jileea's head jerked up to bang against the wall. "Ow. I catch you. It won't work unless you have an ally. Someone with full system access, but someone you can trust. Someone like me."

"Exactly like," the kres admitted.

Jileea tipped her head to one side, as if trying to think about his proposition, but then her body tilted too. Her legs went from under her and she thumped onto her bottom, still leaning against the wall, but back on the corridor floor.

"More ow."

Wing sighed and took a stride so that he could crouch before her. Their eyes were level and he studied her with exasperation. "I suspect I used too much relaxant-"

"Nah," Jileea denied, and turned her head away, defiant again.

However, that movement revealed something unexpected, something Nightwing had seen on mermaridian before, but never on the Rim and never on Jileea. Swinging away from him exposed her throat and, with it, two lines of bright tattoos that had previously been camouflaged by her com.

Wing rocked forward on the balls of his feet, razorback quick and his hand flashed out to grasp Jileea's chin. She realized her mistake and tried to duck her head, but was unable to free herself from his grip. She stiffened instead and her lips twisted with shame. However, she made no further effort to stop him from tilting her head.

There was silence while Wing studied the markings on either side of her throat. Each tattooed strip ran along the bottom of her jaw line from its mid-point on either side and down her neck to stop when it reached her shoulders. The colors in the rows of symbols were bright and the detailing superb.

"A genuine lineage tattoo," Wing murmured.

Jileea's lips twisted further and she tried to twist her head away too, but the kres' grip tightened. In fact, he scarcely noticed the attempted movement. His mind and com were busy deciphering the hieroglyphs that traced high-caste mermaridian ancestry, with the maternal line on the right side and paternal on the left. There was not much of note on the left, a Council Comet a few generations back and a Harvester Sickle before that, but on the right... Wing hissed quietly and finally released Jileea's chin. "What's a Luck's daughter doing on the Rim?"

She scowled at the question. "How does one of Kresynt's royal brats get disHonored?"

"Family quarrel," Wing answered levelly, and felt more surprise from Jileea at such honesty.

She considered his response and started to laugh. She threw her head back and howled, despite Wing's low growl.

"What's funny?"

"You," she accused, slurring the word with delight. "You think you're superior plus. You thin' kres are so much more than the rest of us, but your family sold you too." He tried to answer, to deny it, but she raised a finger to halt his heated response. "Yes, they did. Don' care if it was for rank, marriage or money. Politics, culture or cash. It's no matter. They sold you an' you fought it, so here you are."

Nightwing's anger seeped away, swallowed in ice. A familiar chill spread from his heart and he realized with dread that it was too late to stop it. He didn't need a mirror to know how he looked, with his face set still and so expressionless that he might be a statue. An image of his hated Uncle, with a hard face and predator's eyes.

Jileea gulped for air and was abruptly talking, apparently without much thought or sense. She threw words at him as if they were scraps that might appease this unexpected stranger.

"I'm fine. We're all fine, ye? All good? No-one's going to... to hurt anyone. Right? So, what's the deal as such? How do we team? I help you take down the Leader and you keep me from the mutt? That's great, that's good, certain-sure."

There was a brief, frigid moment and then Wing felt something shift inside. The change was small, much less than a thaw, but it must have shown, because Jileea breathed a sigh and sagged to the floor.

"That's part," the kres agreed slowly, "but there's more. If you back me when I call, you get the ship. I'll gift you the Bandit and be gone."

"Wha'?" Jileea gaped at him, while her numbed neural paths presumably scrambled to comprehend such an offer. "What? I get to be leader? When? Next era?"

"Soon-as."

Her lips shaped 'no', but without sound, and Wing held her gaze.

"Yes," he insisted, trying to drive that word through her drug-induced fog with all of the conviction he could. "I've no care for the Bandit. It's nothing to me and so is being its leader. No insult, Jileea, but I want more."

The mermaridian studied him with obvious disbelief. "What's more than your own ship?"

Wing hesitated over the word, but managed to push it out. "Honor. My Honor and my people. I have a duty I ran from..." He stopped abruptly and waved his hand, brushing aside unnecessary details. "I just wish to get my life back and I need a lift in the Bandit. That's all. I've no idea where yet, but I'll wager it's on the Rim. One ride and you can be leader."

Jileea's lip curled and she looked at Nightwing with obvious disdain. "You want to crawl back home. Luck! Back to cosy Kresville. Drakkit, Wing, I always thought you had orbs. You think I'd run to Mermaridia if I could? Never. I'm here by choice and I'll stay by choice. This is my ship. Sure, my father lost me in a bet and my owner was dung, so I ran, but that's not over me any more. I could have stopped being Debted last year. I earned enough credits to pay the wager, buy my freedom and run home full legal. Forget that. I can fly here, even if you can't."

The kres abruptly stood, his hair stirring around the ship's crest braided down one side in painful shame. "Sorry to disappoint. Such is a habit of mine. But back-now, perhaps you won't find it so easy to fly when you're in with the mutt. Do we deal or not?"

Jileea paused in her tirade and fear flickered across her face again. "Alright," she said carefully. "I like the deal. How do I know you'll keep to it?"

Wing grinned in response and hoped his smile was as chilling as any of Greon's. "What choice do you have? Mutt or no mutt? If I tell them that you're rankless and to enjoy themselves, they will. But if I say instead just to share quarters, you can easily keep them from sharing more. Certain-sure, if you've got a com. One of mine. Greon will want yours compressed. As for the chance to lead when Greon is tossed, think of that as a potential bonus. One that needs to be earned. So, when I ask for help, will you give it?"

Jileea's top lip puckered and Nightwing leaned forward expectantly, until her mouth opened in another yawn. He stifled a curse and his fists clenched uselessly, but she flapped a hand in lazy reassurance. "You push... hard bargain, kres."

"Is that yes?"

"What do you hear?"

"Not enough."

Jileea's eyelids drooped and then fluttered, before she finally managed to focus on Nightwing. He leaned forward until their faces almost touched and she licked her lips before answering distinctly and with exaggerated care. "Yes, Senior, I'm yours. Luck-bound, for whatever, whenever you need."

19

Friendly Fire

Freefall FarFlight held himself completely still while a scan shattered his cells. He stood ramrod straight, as stiff as his purple and gold uniform, refusing to wince at the energy field rummaging through the DNA in his right cheek. The pain was unexpected and it took all of his com-enhanced control to remain expressionless when it coursed along his scar. He had to struggle to hide his shock at the violation. After the security he had already passed through, such an in-depth probe was redundant. It would normally be used only in times of war or potential plot. The scan was a calculated slight that sent a message as clear as his pain.

Freefall may have been summoned by the Arck, but he was still in deep disfavor. His stomach clenched when he realized that he'd get no help during his audience with the Thousand. Even his family's oldest supporters would stay silent rather than risk this Arck's displeasure. It was impossible for Freefall to stand any straighter, but his lips clamped together with the same anger and outspoken pride that had led to his disHonor in the first place. The unfairness of Arck Sharpeye's dictatorial rule started a familiar slow fire in his gut, but he tried to control it. Not this time, he ordered himself silently. Be sweet, be subservient and lick feather.

"Passed," the ceremonial guard standing toe-to-toe with Freefall stated and the scan flickered before releasing a final malicious surge and dying away.

The court functionary gestured for Freefall to move on, but the young Leader stood motionless, struggling to recover from that final burst. Only when he was sure that he could walk without staggering did Freefall step around the ebon-and-gold clad guard. However, he stopped again and turned back to hold the gaze of his interrogator. It was not easy to make eye contact within the guard's bright and ornate helm, but Freefall persevered until the other shifted uneasily and looked away.

"Passed?" the fleet officer queried softly, testing his authority and voice, which, to his relief, was steady.

"Passed, sah," the guard amended and Freefall flicked a finger in grim acceptance of the courtesy.

He turned away in apparent dismissal, but his dread of what was waiting in the supplicants' hall grew stronger. The gossip about his position must be bad indeed if court flunkies were testing his dominance. Freefall tried to throw his shoulders back and discovered that his body was still as straight as biomechanics allowed. He was as ready as he could be and he strode forward to pass through the dulled door field. He was unsurprised to find that it was also on full scan and it thickened briefly as though reluctant to release him. Freefall had to push forward to leave the welcome port, plucking the hem of his cloak free from the door and straightening his collar before he climbed ten wide steps to the pristine surface of the atrium.

Freefall's footsteps rang out clearly as he stepped up into an open space of light and cold. His combat boots snapped against the glacier supporting the highest level of the palace. He marched past a local emitter and it overrode his com, cancelling his boots' adhesion field, but Free had walked the ice since infancy and had no trouble keeping his balance. The glare was more difficult. The ceiling and wall projections had been switched off, which he expected, but even the basic courtesy of a shade field was missing. The frozen bridge ahead was white fire, making him squint despite his nictitating membranes. They could protect his eyes from the cold, but their shade was almost useless in such extreme conditions. It was impossible to see the door ahead, since the crystal canopy arching over it had lost its usual tint and was now intensifying the light beneath. Drak Sharpeye to all the seven hells-

Free took a very deep and extremely cold breath that chilled his anger nicely. Sweet. Calm. He squinted along the bright path, but the two hands of guards standing at its far end were almost invisible. He knew that they were there, but only because his shaded eyes caught flashes of burnished titanium. However, he made his way confidently forward as though he could see them clearly. His fronds bushed in the chill as they also struggled to keep a clear sense of the distant guards.

Free breathed out as hard as he could with each step and his breath plumed around him, subduing the light reflected back from the ice. That rising cloud helped to protect his eyes, but it also made focusing on the far end of the bridge impossible. He walked on blindly and steered a course across that exposed walkway by following the faint frond touch of the guards' minds. He realized that he was indeed on the right course only when his eyes detected a patch of darkness in the brilliance ahead. The door to the supplicants' hall must be close and that was confirmed when he passed the first of the guards.

They stood motionless and unresponsive, with their minds well shielded, ten on either side of a door that filled the far end of the atrium. They fanned outwards from the entrance as though welcoming supplicants, but Free always felt they were funnelling him to the darkness beyond. He resolutely ignored their closing ranks as that door grew dimly before him, until it dominated his horizon. It was black, massive and made of real stone. Unlike the energy-based illusions that served the rest of the palace, it was the solid remnant of an earlier citadel that had housed the FarFlights nearly nine thousand years ago.

Free completed the gauntlet of the atrium and was forced to stop. He blinked at the weathered stone just before his face, while it sat resolutely grounded in the ice. Engravings, blurred by time and the after effects of the dazzling floor, remained motionless in front of him and the young Leader struggled with anger again. No, this is what he wishes, an approach filled with fury and all thought lost in feeling. Free made a supreme effort and controlled his emotions with all of the maturity that had brought him command of a ship, despite his youth and his past disHonor. He closed his eyes and relaxed, to stand less stiffly than he had at any time since being summoned to court.

Free's restraint brought an instant response. He felt rather than heard movement in the door and opened his eyes in time to see it rise before his face. A squeal from the encroaching ice when the door broke free from the floor was the only sound before the massive block moved smoothly upwards. It climbed as high as his chest, and then stopped just as silently. His heart sank when he realized that he would have to duck beneath it to appear before the Thousand.

"So much for a dignified entrance," Free muttered, and smiled wryly, before leaning forward to peer beneath the lintel.

The door was three metres thick and even the blaze from the atrium could not penetrate to the far side. He felt as though he had gone truly blind when he struggled to look past it with his ocular membranes still darkening his vision. They drew back, but left behind smears of red and green, unwanted after-images of the brilliant walkway behind him.

It was impossible to see anything in the chamber beyond and the silence was absolute. Even his excellent kres hearing was useless. The supplicants' hall could be empty, apart from a link to the Arck, or it could be filled with representatives from each of the thousand noble families. Freefall hoped it was not the latter and then realized that it would be. Arck Sharpeye had the uncanny knack of knowing exactly how to unsettle each supplicant.

Free ground his lips together, reacting to a familiar frustration. He hated having to duck beneath that ancient door and shuffle into the presence of the Thousand. Unfortunately, his choices were limited and his delay was now perilously close to becoming an insult. His mind churned, searching for another option. He wondered desperately what his cousin Nightwing would do, and the answer came to him immediately.

Free grinned and felt surprise from the guards when he turned away from the door. His eyes shielded themselves again while he walked carefully back down the ice bridge. His friction field was still suppressed and the surface beneath his feet was treacherous. He turned back to the hall and rose up on his toes, checking his balance and reading the ice, testing it for melt or tackiness. There was little of either, no obvious surface water, but also no trapped grit to aid traction. He took a deep breath and launched himself at the entrance anyway.

Free covered the distance in less than ten strides, sprinting hard, and then dropped to his knees. He had a moment of panic when the dark blur of the door seemed closer than his struggling eyes had judged, but the margin was enough. He dropped to his knees just in time and his forelock brushed its weathered edge when he slid across the threshold. The darkness flashed past and he skidded the three-metre thickness of the door in less than a second.

Free was still moving at speed when he entered the supplicants' hall. Tiers of faces turned toward him, and then twisted back just as quickly to follow his unexpectedly swift progress. There was sound now, a startled murmur that grew in his wake. He covered half of the hall's considerable length without slowing noticeably. The ice was still slick beneath him, but had been frozen over a mosaic of black and gold tiles. They flickered past fast enough to start a dull ache in his head, but he ignored the peripheral flashing, staring straight ahead and planting his fists on his hips as he approached the throne.

It grew more quickly than Free liked, an ebon monstrosity as dark and ancient as the main door. Its intricate carvings had been filled with gilt and diamond dust that added to its expense, but not its elegance.

Free looked higher still, above the base of the floating throne and into the distant gaze of Arck Sharpeye FarFlight. His sovereign stared coldly back, impossible to read even though his face was a rapidly growing disc of gold. It remained as impassive as any ancient coin of the realm. Free was briefly swept by the usual mix of fear and anger that the Arck inspired in him, but forgot that familiar response for a more immediate problem. He realized that he was going to shoot straight under the hovering throne and into the far wall. His grand entrance was about to end very messily and he could hear the court's response already, laughter as chill as the floor.

Free slipped over the ice with no sign of slowing. He tried to access his friction field, but there was still no response. He took a deep breath when he entered the shadow under the throne and did the only thing he could. He dug the toe of his left boot into the ice that covered the palace floor. Fullerene capped combat boots succeeded where his com had failed. The tip dug deep and a spray of ice arced behind him as he turned in a smooth circle.

The drag of Free's boot swung him away from the looming wall and back toward the ranks of assembled nobles. He was moving more slowly now and their expressions were no longer blurred. Those faces had lost their normal courtly restraint. It had been replaced by more honest emotions that ranged from amusement to anger. However, the electromagnetic waves that reached his swaying fronds showed that the minds behind those facades were as well guarded as ever.

The first rule of court, Free mused while he curved back toward the Arck, hide your thoughts. Smile or frown, no matter, but with your mind lie, lie, then lie some more.

He swung back to face Sharpeye and used the last of his momentum to rise to his feet at the base of the floating throne. The hall was silent when he slid to a halt and crossed his fists over his heart in salute. The Arck's features were just as still. The kres ruler simply stared at his young nephew, who stood rigidly at attention, determined to hold the pose as long as necessary. He had survived Sharpeye's initial punishment and knew that something else would be devised instead, something worse, but at that moment he didn't care. I will never crawl into your presence, he thought fiercely, and then felt a touch of foreboding.

Cold, gray eyes held his gaze and he realized that the Arck had caught his thought, or at least the emotions behind it. Free cursed himself and the family pride that he and Wing were as susceptible to as Arck Sharpeye. He knew that his emperor was capable of holding him at attention until he passed out, even if the rest of the court needed to stop for food and sleep first. The thought was not a good one. He refused to waste so much time on one of Sharpeye's games. Although it galled him, he sent a surge of contrition toward the throne as strongly as he could.

The Arck's mouth curved slightly in response, an expression of amused disdain, but the only laughter came from the dais floating just below and to the right of the throne.

A breathy wheeze rustled from the shadows to make Freefall's feathers stir against his neck. He sensed the sudden wariness of the Thousand and knew that most of the court shared his unease at the interruption. Only one person would dare to speak before the Arck, even amongst the respected Noble Aged. Only one person would dare to make a sound and no one in that chamber, not even the Arck, truly knew her agenda.

The laugh came again and then the tap of a cane echoed from the walls as a small, dark-gowned figure moved to the front of the dais, out of the shadow of the throne. The Arck's amused expression had vanished, but he inclined his head slightly, giving his permission for the withered kres to speak. She acknowledged his consent with the barest nod of her own and then carefully turned her attention to Freefall. She leaned forward slowly, holding tightly to a plain black cane with a hand so ancient that it resembled a claw. She pursed seamed lips, and then offered Free a puckered smile that seemed completely genuine.

"Quite an entrance," she quavered, and Freefall resisted the impulse to turn his eyes in her direction, staring rigidly ahead instead.

"I'm most glad you liked it, Lady Grace," he said, challenging her to deny it in an effort to make her declare herself either for him or against him.

She laughed instead, and, although her voice was weaker than it once was, it still had a daunting sharpness. "We all enjoyed it, my dear. So unexpected and entertaining. Truly a lovely surprise." She paused for a sly glance at the Arck, making it clear that it was Sharpeye's surprise she had found amusing. She came as close as possible to laughing openly at the Arck, but stopped short of a word or thought that could be publicly challenged.

Free's lips quivered too, but he remained at attention. "I'm glad the Arck enjoyed it," he stated coolly, throwing the possible insult back at Grace, but she fielded it easily.

"Don't speak for the Arck, boy. I would never be so presumptuous. When I state 'we' enjoyed it, I refer to the common aristocracy. 'We' are always delighted to have a supplicant chick return. However, I'm sure our merciful Arck can speak for himself."

"If I ever receive the chance," Arck Sharpeye said mellowly, and there was a dutiful ripple of amusement in response.

Grace's wheezing guffaw hung in the air, louder than the refined amusement of the other nobles and she nodded again, before tottering back into the shadows. She had made her point, Free realized, but what point? He thought about that while he continued to wait for the Arck to address him, running over her last words with growing hope.

She's warning me to be a good little supplicant and she wants the Arck to be merciful. If we play those parts, we have her support. He focused on the Arck again, holding his ruler in the middle of his field of vision, as required by an officer at attention. Sharpeye cleared his throat and every member of the court leaned forward in genteel anticipation. "Ship Leader," he said succinctly, and each perfectly formed syllable carried clear and crisp through the hushed hall.

Sharpeye offered Freefall the precise courtesy of his title, but nothing more. Refusing to use his family name, which was the same as the Arck's, was a calculated insult, but Free was unmoved by the slight.

"Magnificence," he answered, with the same clear precision, and bowed deeply. He expected to be held in the bow for some time, but the Arck snapped his fingers at once.

"Ye, ye, Freefall. Rise." He scarcely waited for his young nephew to obey. "I have matters of import to judge and wish to deal with you briefly."

"Indeed, Sire," Freefall responded quickly.

"The results of your last watch were acceptable. Destroying a Harvester pack merits all our thanks."

Murmurs of appreciation rumbled around the hall, although they were noticeably muted in the section crowded by Clan BackBeak.

"Certain-sure you followed my orders in most matters. As-such I am pleased to promote you, Sector Leader."

The last grateful murmurs were swallowed by stunned silence. Free's fronds swivelled forward in surprise, but he hid their movement with another deep bow. "Thank you, Magnificence," he said while bent double, hoping his posture would also disguise the wariness in his tone.

"For sure," His Liege agreed calmly. "You will have sole charge of Sector Horizon twelve minus to ten plus."

Free snapped upright with sudden hope. Was this the result of the Backbeak's anger? A remote posting that would keep him far from Court? Perfect. "A challenging job, Sire."

"Truly," the Arck agreed, and the two briefly shared a vision of the dark and isolated expanse of Rimward space that was now Freefall's responsibility.

It was far from most commercial passage points and close to the unruly Rim, with its motley collection of small traders, slavers, pirates and t'ssaa, but of strategic importance to Kresynt. It was a connected series of buffer systems, where he could win such approval that Sharpeye would be forced to reward him.

Free pulled back from the Arck's mental touch, but not before he felt the anger behind this promotion. The young Leader stood quite still and his wariness returned. "What number of ships will I lead, Sire?" he asked, and the Arck smiled.

"One."

Free's fronds bunched tight against his throat and he had to swallow before he could repeat, "One? For all sector?"

The Arck scored his nails across the padding of his throne. "As I said, so it is. One. A new ship at that, so prepare your crew to move. One ship will suffice. That was all an Honorless scum needed to survive that area five years past. If a future renegade could best such challenges, so can my loyal officers."

Free felt a wash of anger again, but this time it was his own. It burnt white hot and fierce enough to challenge Sharpeye's hidden fury. The two kres stared at each other blankly, their emotions still publicly masked, but only just.

"I talk of your cousin," Sharpeye whispered and, for a second his eyes narrowed and the malice showed. "Horizon was the sector your cousin held in his grad watch, but he never surrendered his student charts. I'm sure you won't disappoint as he did, Leader."

Free raised his gaze to the royal crest hanging just above the Arck's head and rigidly controlled his hope that it might fall. "Yes, Sire," he answered softly, "your nephew, Nightwing, did have that watching. I will return with total charts. I... thank you for the new ship. When do we lift?"

Sharpeye was unable to answer. Overwhelmed by FarFlight temper, he sat in barely checked fury and ground his fingers into the arms of his throne. His hands convulsed around the dilmah padding and it abruptly tore. In the absolute silence of the court, that shriek of ripping cloth carried clearly to every kres. No one had dared to mention Nightwing's name in public for more than four years and the unsubtle reminder that he was the Arck's relative too was unprecedented.

Free knew that he was risking disHonor again, but no longer cared. His disgust at the games of his own class was beyond his control. A part of him desperately hoped to be publicly parted from the aristocracy, to be cast out and set free to follow Wing, to escape from all the responsibilities of their house. He tried to watch the Arck impassively, but contempt and hope leaked from his mind and his ruler's hands clawed the bared throne in further fury. Sharpeye's flawless features were ruffled by genuine hatred and, when he leaned forward to pronounce his judgment, the rest of the court leaned eagerly forward too.

That slight movement rippled down the hall and was enough to recall the Arck to himself. The delight of his subjects at such a public display of emotion filled the chamber and it sobered him instantly. Sharpeye's entire rule was based on control, Free knew that all too well. Losing control of anyone, even himself, was totally against Sharpeye's nature. Sure enough he sat back abruptly and his fronds relaxed with unnatural haste, collapsing from outraged stiffness to settle on his shoulders. The Arck gave a stiff smile that tightened to a fierce grin more quickly than Free liked.

"Your obedience is well-noted, Freefall. It will earn all that it truly deserves. Luck with your posting. Your new ship awaits you at dock." The Arck paused and his com released the appropriate docking co-ordinates to Freefall's com. "You should be most happy. The ship is an icon, a tribute to kres construction. It was the pinnacle of all we first achieved in space and once the pride of my Royal Fleet. It was the last, most grand Noble Class ship to be made." Sharpeye beamed around the hall and there was an appropriate smatter of com applause at the honor accorded such a young commander. It was particularly loud in the BackBeak sector.

Free drew a deep breath at that sound of approval, holding his body and mind rigidly still. He had been on the verge of satisfaction at successfully baiting the Arck. Worse, he had let that show and now all he could do was hide his emotions, despite the fact that every kres in the chamber must have known what they were. Only a child would believe this was really a promotion.

It was true that Free's new ship had once been the pride of the Royal Fleet, but that was three centuries ago. It had been obsolete hundreds of cycles before its new Leader was born. The last example ever made was now being released from museum stasis solely to humiliate Freefall. And to make a point, he thought with a sudden chill. I'm discarded too. The last of my line, if Sharpeye can manage it. His mind was superficially calm, but it took a supreme effort of will for him to hold that façade.

How could he have failed his crew so badly? They'd be forced to move with him, to a scarcely space-fit hulk. Free would suffer, even lose his life, but so would the people who followed him. The Arck knew his nephew well and this punishment was the cruellest that he could legally inflict on Freefall.

Sharpeye leaned back against his throne, safe within the confines of its protective field, and his message was clear. Leave the one below me alone. Support him at your peril. The silence within the hall was absolute and Sharpeye was satisfied, but only briefly.

A clatter from below the throne made him start and his fronds bristled when a dark splinter tumbled to the floor. A length of polished wood fell from the dais of the Noble Aged and slid over ice-slicked tiles, kicking up a fine spray when it skidded toward Free. He lifted the front of one foot briefly, before dropping it back down to trap the darkwood cane. It stopped abruptly and silence returned, but the hush was soon broken. The hiss of formal robes dragged along an icy platform carried clearly to the throne. Free had no need to look up to check who was shuffling to the front of the dais. Those careful steps could belong to only one kres. Lady Grace, leader of the BGP, moved into Free's peripheral vision.

"Clumsy," she tutted, but her tone was not apologetic. The flat statement was a clear accusation and almost as pointed as openly calling Sharpeye politically clumsy, but much more difficult to challenge. Any attempt to punish Grace would only confirm the criticism and prove he lacked diplomacy. Free realized his lips had quirked, but it was too late.

"Sector Leader," Sharpeye purred.

Free lifted his chin at the address, the briefest nod of acknowledgement that, while acceptable, would have been more appropriate in a mess hall or casual quarters. The Arck's lips hardened to a sharp edge, but that was the only sign of his anger. "Return Lady Grace's cane before her accident does her harm. She should take more care. A good support is truly needed at her age."

"Sire," Freefall responded neutrally, and bent to retrieve the walking stick. He hefted it in his left hand, before bowing and moving forward into the shadow of the throne. His fronds bristled when he approached the cold touch of the Arck's mind, but Freefall gave no other sign of unease. He stepped into the physical chill of the dimly lit area under the monolithic throne with relief. The temperature may have been low, but it still felt less frigid than Sharpeye's glacial thoughts.

Freefall smiled at Lady Grace when he approached her perch. Her head was level with his, thanks to the height advantage of her floating dais. She tottered to its edge to meet him, indicating to watching nobles that she had no intention of isolating Freefall. The young leader handed back her support and retreated beneath the throne again.

Free reappeared from its shadow and centred his gaze on the Arck once more. Sharpeye now looked bored and lolled in his seat, clearly ready to end the audience.

"I ask your leave to depart, Sire," Free requested and the Arck waved a languid hand in royal release. The younger kres bowed, before backing away for the requisite ten steps toward the discreet supplicants' exit halfway down the hall. A final backwards step and he turned toward that door and escape.

"Wait," Sharpeye ordered, making Free halt in mid-stride. "You've a day to prep your ship, Leader. One day only and then you needs must lift. And, Freefall... no more catching of pirates. They strain our resources and arouse sympathy in the ignorant. Just kill them in future. Kill them all."

Free sketched a bow of obedience in the direction of the throne, but was already moving again. He stiffened against the wave of satisfaction and malice that Tetrarck Feathernest, the head of the BackBeak clan, released when he passed. He refused to look at that old member of The Thousand and her clustered supporters, even to check whether his ex-Data Senior was with them. However, while he strode the seemingly endless chequered ice of the supplicants' hall, he mentally queried his com. His grip on the icy tiles told him that his wrist band was working again, and it responded to his search at once.

Its silent answer was negative and another chill touched Free. Ex-Data Senior BackBeak was not one of the brightly feathered crowd that was crowing over his punishment. He could think of a number of reasons why that vindictive aristocrat might have missed such a triumph and none of them pleased him. He lengthened his stride further and no longer cared that he was virtually running from the chamber. There were more important things than his pride, as he'd discovered long ago. The roof-high illusory doors of the supplicants' exit seemed to open before him and he burst into the clear light of the long balcony.

Free dropped all restraint the moment he entered that narrow and empty colonnade. His com's full power returned and he broke into a run. His attempts to hail the Honor went unanswered. He tried to reach its nest on emergency com, but failed again. He sprinted to the lip of the nearest palace link and leapt in without confirming traffic volume, its passengers scattering before him. The surge of his com was so strong that it caught courtiers above in the back-field and tumbled them upwards, cursing and yelling. Free ignored their complaints as he plummeted toward the ground.

20

Framed

Clearwing Pinion slouched lower in her watcher's chair. It was the only seat still active in the Honors' empty nest and her fronds fluttered nervously, searching for danger among the shadows of a ship on stand-by power. She quickly stilled them, annoyed at her timidity, and tried to ignore her growing unease. She knew her fear was simply caused by the unfamiliarity of the ship while it was grounded, but it was still hard to adapt to a nest that was now dark and threatening. The bustle of crew and their bright displays had been replaced by eerie silence and a dim glow from her lone console.

Black walls curved away from Clearwing, disappearing into the darkness above. Kresynt's gravity felt heavier than she remembered. It seemed to pull the surrounding darkness down on her head. She sighed and closed her eyes to the weight of black above, but that was worse and she quickly opened them again, to sit scrunched and defensive in a single pool of light.

Clearwing sighed when she remembered how excited she had been to receive sole charge of the ship for its first docking watch. More punishment than reward, she realized now. Mayhap the leader hates me, she thought in sudden panic, before remembering that the order had come from port control, not Freefall. That was a mercy. She made an effort to sit up straight and survey what she could see of the nest, but the silence was still eerie. Even the usual background com chatter, the routine exchanges between docking ships and port control was missing.

Clear sat up truly straight in surprise and sudden realisation. It was too quiet. Far too quiet and her scalp crawled with a renewed sense of dread. "Drakkit," she muttered, realising that part of her mind had been alerted to real danger some time ago. She brushed strands of hair impatiently aside and flicked her console into scan mode. There was no response. The curved gray surface in front of her remained featureless, as still as its surroundings.

Clear ordered an emergency-on, but there was no reassuring surge of power. The air above her sole source of information stayed empty. She realized she was shaking as she crouched in her seat. This was more than a console malfunction. This was the sort of complete shutdown that only a senior officer could authorise.

Clear staggered from of her seat, while her fingers and mind sent out a priority hail from her com. There was no answer, but she was unsurprised. Her console was sabotaged and her personal com was being damped too. Someone had trapped her alone, in the middle of a crippled ship.

She slunk toward the link, sliding on the smooth curve of the nest, her boots' adhesion overwhelmed by the energy field that had isolated her from the rest of Kresynt. However, her balance was naturally good and she made steady progress across the 'down' side of the chamber, despite her trembling legs. She reached the edge of the link, but, to her horror the ship's main corridor was no longer dimly lit. Its opening could only be seen in the light from her otherwise-useless console. Its mouth was now a circle of black.

Clear hesitated on the edge of that darkened tunnel, before leaning into it. She tried to take a tentative step, but her fingers held tight to the edge of its entrance. They refused to open and she had to stop, still clinging to the illusory security of the nest.

Clear glared at her hands, but they seemed to be operating independently and showed no inclination to let go. She stared at her knuckles, willing them to relax, but they still stood out pale against the wall. This is the only escape you have, she reminded herself grimly, and suddenly understood her reluctance to move. She knew the link was her only way out, but so did the person behind this.

Trap, trap, trap, her mind screamed, and briefly tried to find its own escape in panic. Trap!

Clear abruptly shut down that silent scream. She was in deep trouble and the only help she could count on was her own. She took a shaking breath and slowly uncurled her hands. Each frozen finger lifted in turn until she was free. Her mind was finally moving faster than her terrified body and, by the time her hands were unclenched, she had already reviewed her options. She could try to access the service ways that honeycombed the ship's walls. They were separate from the nest and security shielded to prevent an invasion, but breaking into them was possible. However, they were also the most obvious escape route after the link so she rejected them.

Instead, Clear slid carefully back to her station. The console was useless, but its seat might not be. She reached her goal and her legs buckled so that she could drop to her knees. She fell to all fours beside her chair and groped for the pressure point that released its seat cushion. It depressed slowly with a series of clicks that echoed from the walls. However, with a last creak, the seat was thrown clear, flying forward so that she had to duck. Its gaudy padding brushed her hair when it passed, flying on into the dark and colliding with the far wall. It clattered to the curved floor and slid back toward the young kres.

Clear crouched wide-eyed and shaking, watching it reappear from the dark and skid to a halt against her ankle. The sound of its explosive release had been so loud that she briefly hoped port control, in their distant tower, might somehow have heard it. "Silly," she chided herself, but froze, mouth still open, when the seats' release did bring a response. Footsteps. Ringing clearly from the link. The rapid strike of someone running. Running toward the nest.

Clear's first thought was of rescue, of help arriving, perhaps even the Leader\- but her own senses offered less hopeful data. No friendly voice called reassurance down the link and Freefall had only been gone a short time, with no plans to return to the ship anyway. She forced down hope and turned back to her dismembered chair. It gaped forlornly at her, a singed braid trailing across its now-open support leg.

Clear clawed at the orange and olive tatters, ripping them from the cavity to reveal the power pack beneath. It gleamed, even in the dimness, and she realized that when she pulled it free she would lose her only light source. The footsteps were closer now, loud enough for non-kres ears to register and thunderous to the increasingly desperate Sub-plus. She slammed a fist into the pack's release field and jerked it free.

All light vanished. The nest was pitch-black. Now it was truly terrifying and completely disorienting. The growing footfalls seemed more real to Clear than her own invisible body. She held the fist-sized power store tight, so tight it hurt her hand and was a reminder of her unseen flesh.

The nagging footsteps grew louder still, pounding from the link walls to echo around the nest. It was too late to hide somewhere in the ship with her improvised weapon, Clear realized and almost gave in to panic again, but part of her mind was still thinking. It forced her body up and on. She tucked the power pack into the front of her tunic, which she sealed securely up to her throat. The footsteps stopped. They fell silent at the edge of the nest and were replaced by the gasp of ragged breathing, as if someone had abused full combat mode then been forced to pause and recover. She had no intention of giving the intruder the chance.

Her orientation had returned with the unseen stranger. The darkness was still absolute, but Clear's fronds could clearly sense the runner's body heat. His size and shape were male and he stood to the left of the link opening, resting against it and bent almost double. She threw herself forward, but his head rose instantly and his own fronds writhed to track her with equal ease. She skidded down the curve of the nest, arms wide for balance, aiming straight for the intruder. It was impossible to see his expression, but she could feel his satisfaction when he spread his own arms to grab her. She was moving at speed, but the collision never came. She dived into a forward roll instead, tucking her head into her chest as she aimed for the emergency infrared strips that marked the link.

The intruder ducked forward in an effort to catch Clear, but threw himself straight into the heel of her boot. She had straightened her left leg as she rolled, so that it swung over her head and into her attacker's jaw. The contact jarred her from feet to fronds and stole her momentum, so that she sprawled sideways across the link, but it worked. Her attacker grunted when her boots' combat-toughened sole broke through his depleted com field to hit hard. The strike connected with enough force to throw him back against the edge of the link. He yelped in pain and fell to his knees, but still managed to clutch after her. His fingers brushed her ankle, but then she was gone.

Clear found her feet and hurtled down the link, blind but balanced, despite her fear. The surrounding dark could have swallowed her if she let it, leached away direction to leave her staggering and lost, but she kept it at bay. She held onto simple thoughts so tightly that she had no chance to think of the blackness. Instead, she followed her one clear instinct. To run. All she had to do was stay upright and follow the infrared dots until she saw light. Once her body broke free of the ship, so would her com. She staggered on, swaying from left to right while her mind struggled with each stride. Her feet kept straying from a straight line despite her mental efforts to find the floor. She could hear other footsteps now, coming from behind, the rapid strike of her unknown attacker. His harsh footfalls grew closer again as he gained on her.

Clear's adrenaline surged, but so did hope. The link was lighter. Yes, she could see walls and floor appearing ahead. Her pace quickened until she was running strongly again toward the brilliant oval that marked the end of the link. Her pursuer was nearly on her, filling her ears and fronds with his presence, but he was too slow. She realized she would escape before he could catch her. The link was bathed in light and her com vibrated when its thwarted emergency call finally started to connect. She took a sobbing breath and seemed to find wings as she leapt for the exit.

Her foot sailed over the threshold, but, before her body could follow, the light was blocked. A huge figure stepped between Clear and freedom. She tried to twist in mid-air, but massive hands closed on her shoulders. The oval of light that lead to the docks was only a stride away when her feet came off the ground and she was tossed casually over a mutt's shoulder.

"Help," she yelled, and gulped air for another shriek, but hard fingers closed in her hair, yanking her head back.

Clear froze, staring transfixed into the pale lavender-fringed eyes of pirate Leader Lamidia. Those silver orbs reflected pigmented lids with eerie luminosity, the pupils pinpricks in the single shaft of light.

"I have preference not to mark you, girl," the Harvester said softly, "but if I need to hurt you, I will."

The threat behind those quiet words hit hard enough to make Clear's fronds writhe and bunch tight. The young kres went limp in response and her captor's mind lost its immediate menace.

"Better."

The Harvester turned back to the kres, who had been chasing Clear. He was bent double again, regaining his breath on the threshold between light and dark.

Lamidia hissed in annoyance and he looked up quickly, straightening as he struggled to make a more rapid recovery. His face was upside-down to Clearwing, who was now draped over the mutt's shoulder. It was also hidden by a com glamour, a disguise that blurred his features under a glittering spray of stars. She sensed his satisfaction as he studied her, before he turned to stagger back into the dark.

Clear and her captor were swallowed by the link as well and the young kres sensed Lamidia following. The escaped pirate strode confidently along the lightless tunnel and Clear realized that the kres traitor who released her must have given her a com too. Despite being bounced against the mutt's back, Clear's fronds soon recognised the approaching nest. The return trip had been frighteningly quick, much faster than her attempt to escape.

The mutt strode into the nest and staggered. His feet slipped before his leader's com could create more grip and Clear was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. She fell more than two metres and landed hard. She had to lie still for a second, recovering her breath. The nest was still black, but Lamidia entered without difficulty and stepped quickly to Clear's side. The disguised kres moved just as smoothly to stand between her and the link, blocking any escape.

Lamidia knelt gracefully next to her prisoner and the young officer struggled up onto all fours. She gasped at the faint hum beside her when Lamidia's com powered up, and Clear flinched away. Her eyes slid toward the now-glowing wristband and she recognised the ident tag that signalled a chemical feed rather than blast function. At least she wasn't about to be shot. Relief made her tremble, setting her swaying on her hands and knees while Lamidia readied her drug shunt.

The mermaridian hummed happily, before leaning closer to her prisoner and Clear recoiled further from the pirate's malice.

"Don't stir so," Lamidia snapped and the young kres instantly froze. "Better. Don't guilt, girl. You could never be a match for me. This failure isn't your fault. It was inevitable."

Her hand closed around Clear's neck, smooth fingers searching for a vein, and something in the Sub-plus rebelled at that soft touch. It rebelled against Lamidia's arrogance, her unfeeling beauty, her certainty that Clear had surrendered. It even rebelled against Clearwing's own common sense. Some unsuspected, but integral part of her refused to go down without fighting.

Lamidia pressed her thumb beneath the data tek's jaw to force her head up and expose her throat. Her prisoner made no effort to resist, but, as the pirate positioned her com, Clear's hand moved to the front of her own tunic.

The power source from her vandalised seat was still there, nestled smooth and hard between her breasts. Her fingers curled around it, searching for its trigger point though the fabric of her top. That slight depression was hard to find and Lamidia's com dug into Clear's throat. However, before it could penetrate, her scrabbling fingers found their target and spasmed against it.

Fire filled the nest, brilliant and blinding. A blue-white beam pierced both the dark and Lamidia's shoulder. It sliced through the Harvester's com field, punching her backwards. There was a sharp retort from seared air and flesh before Lamidia's scream drowned all other sounds.

Clear twisted awkwardly away, struggling to bring the clumsy weapon to bear on the traitor kres. He threw himself to one side, but there was another sharp retort and she managed to sear his lower leg. He yelled too and thrashed across the floor, skidding away from her in desperate retreat. She threw herself after him, but not to attack.

Clear slid to one side instead and toward the link as the mutt belatedly lumbered into action behind her. His shuffling footfalls were muted in the bedlam, but she could sense him closing on her. She clutched her makeshift weapon, but it pulsed weakly in response, virtually empty. She released it and skidded on through a darkness now distorted by green streaks, the after image of her brief attack. The useless power pack fell through the hole it had blasted in her tunic and clattered away, racing Clear into the darkness.

The mutt chasing her was slipping too and his momentum built as he charged down the slope behind her. He closed fast and Clear threw herself forward on to her stomach, sliding desperately for the link. She rocketed into it and surged up the far wall. Gravity slowed her and she curved back toward the unseen floor, managing to land on her feet. She staggered briefly, but then she was running, following the infrared trail with her fronds, and the mutt fell behind, struggling to track her in the dark.

Clear's hope returned, but only briefly. It turned to bitter disappointment again the moment she sensed someone in the link ahead. The input from her fronds was depressingly clear. The intruder was not as large as a mutt, but still too big to be kres. She skidded to a halt and he strolled toward her, apparently at ease in the dark. She realized with shock that he had fronds and took an involuntary step back before slumping against the curved wall.

Only one group of mermaridian had ever managed to use gentik gene splicing to gain fronds and they were the most violent, uncaring sect of an entire species. Beserks. Sentient beings with extreme skills in murder and mayhem, who descended into madness in the heat of battle. The Beserks were the most effective weapons the Harvesters possessed. Her training was explicit about the only possible response to such warriors.

Do not resist.

Clear's body seemed to be in agreement with her teaching. She was suddenly unable to stand, let alone fight. She sagged further, folding at the knees, and the Beserk took two rapid strides to grasp her under the arms.

"Got ya," commented a surprisingly sane and cheerful voice. "Ups-now, little lady." The Beserk wrapped an encouraging arm around Clearwing and walked on, supporting her with apparent ease.

She was shivering hard and her escort belatedly realized that he was the only thing holding her up. He hummed quietly and hoisted her into his arms without breaking stride. He carried her nonchalantly back to the heart of the ship and they reached the nest much sooner than she wanted.

That dark space echoed with Lamidia's curses and the vicious mind behind that pretty face hit Clear with such force that her fronds curled tight and useless in response. All sense of the people ahead was lost. She struggled to relax her fronds, but they clung to her neck, curled up close beneath each ear. She was completely blind for the first time since being attacked.

However, the nest was abruptly lit by a glow from her captor's com. The sudden light dazzled them all, but it was directed at Lamidia. The escaped prisoner's swearing switched focus from Clearwing to the Beserk.

"Nikareon, gut the drakking light. Now. You may think it a busting jest, but I'll make certain-sure my father fails to agree." She both snarled and blinked at the newcomer in comic contrast, but he ignored her order.

"Lucky day to you too," he drawled, and then slipped into a parody of a mutt accent. "You lost this'n." He glanced down at Clear, who stared back wide-eyed.

She had a brief impression of silver-blond hair, paired with mismatched eyes, one gray and the other gold, before her legs were dropped to dump her roughly on her feet. The Beserk hooked a hand under her armpit and she managed to stay upright. Unfortunately, her fronds straightened along with her body and were assaulted again by Lamidia's anger. Clear swayed in response and Nikareon's grip tightened.

The pirate leader hissed from the floor at Clear's feet when her attention switched back to the young kres. Lamidia was shaking too, but her trembling was clearly caused by rage. She ignored the mutt, who was clumsily smoothing a regen strip around her injured shoulder. Her eyes were fixed on Clear and both pupil and iris vanished beneath a sheen of silver.

"Easy now, easy then, easy-as," Nikareon murmured, and carefully drew Clear back, away from the crouched figure on the floor.

The mutt had frozen, but could not restrain a whimper when it stared sidelong at its mistress.

"Easy," the Beserk repeated with more force, and his fronds sent a warning.

His threat was enough to jerk Lamidia away from Clear and the Harvester's gleaming gaze shifted to Nikareon. He stared back for a long, tense minute and his eyes grew brighter, until they gleamed in the dim light, while hers slowly faded. His growing anger seemed to leach the faint berserk sheen from her pupils and reflect it back magnified, so that his own gaze turned to molten silver.

It was Lamidia who looked away first, with a gruff "easy," of her own. She turned back to Clear and her expression was still murderous, but the Harvester took a shuddering breath and, when she raised her com, there was no hum of a blaster charging.

"You'll regret that, gat," she promised sincerely. "Till your dying, you'll regret blooding me. This wasn't personal, but now... now I owe you." Her com glowed and Clear's fronds flinched, but the energy it released was faint, a trail of numbers that flew straight to her com and was accepted.

Not just numbers, Clear realized when her eyes flicked to check the message. She saw a crisp credit trail, depositing new money into her account. A lot of money. A huge payment, she realized, from a prisoner who was about to escape on her watch. She looked up desperately, but Lamidia had vanished.

Clear's fronds sensed the Harvester's body heat and the cold touch of her mind close behind the kres, but she was held even tighter than before by the Beserk. Unable to turn, she stood helpless while a com field stabbed into her neck.

The injection was brutal and Clear's mouth widened as anaesthezine was forced into her body, but her throat was already frozen and no sound escaped it. Everything around her blurred while her fronds grew limp, and then her eyes glazed too. The world darkened, until scraps of sound were all that remained, disjointed words, without emotion or sense.

"Port alert, Lady-Luck. Time... go."

"How... not 'til later... They found your ship..."

"Never. It's field clear. The failure must be the Kressykins..."

"... My fault? I freed you and did all you asked..."

"Time to stay and dance, My Lady, or go...?"

"At speed. We're gone for Mermaridia."

"No, wait. What of... evidence trail? You swore I'd stay safe. You promised. You have to clear all my DNA. Lady, wait. Please, my Lord Beserk-"

"Your trail and your trial, chick. Clean your own diaper strip."

Then there was only silence. A soft, dark, surprisingly welcome silence.

21

Jailbird

The darkness seemed sadly brief to Clear. She was fairly sure that whatever was waiting for her when she woke would be far from pleasant. So she lay still, stubbornly embracing the silence, until it was broken by a new voice that was much more familiar than she expected. "Clear, Gods, Clear... Clearwing, wake up. Fight."

Her jaw was sore, too sore to move, but, strangely, there was fresh pain and someone who sounded just like her croaked, "Free?"

"Ye," a voice agreed in rough reassurance, and abruptly she could feel again.

Someone was holding her. She could hear a heartbeat and realized her cheek was resting against someone's chest.

"Free?" she tried again with growing disbelief, and then remembered herself and cursed her informality. "Leader?"

The body cradling hers tensed and the arms around her fell away to leave her unsupported on that mysterious someone's lap.

"Yes," her Leader's voice agreed, and his face swam into focus, still close to hers, but wearing a remote expression that offered only professional concern.

Clear's fronds twitched and tentatively uncurled to taste her surroundings. The first thing they felt was the polite veneer of her commander's mind, tinged with faint concern for one of his junior officers. He was sitting on the floor and she was draped across his lap, still loosely supported in his arms.

"Sah, Lamidia-"

"We know," he interrupted grimly. "Lie still, Sub-Plus. The anaesthezine was untailored and caused complications."

"Anaesthezine? Complications?"

"You'll be fine-as," he reassured her, but didn't smile.

A sense of impatience to one side of Clear caused her to look around, and then blink at the burnished glory of a phalanx of Royal Guards.

"Lord," their leader stated with cursory respect and no effort to hide her annoyance, "since the suspect is now recovered, she will be placed under arrest."

Clear shuddered, but despite the shock, she was not surprised. She had been well framed for this crime. Even drugging her with general anaesthezine, the only type available to junior officers, made her unconsciousness look like a clumsy attempt to seem innocent. She kept her eyes fixed on Free, while a restraint field settled over her wrists and a disembodied voice proclaimed, "Sub-Plus Clearwing Pinion, you are charged with treason and will answer in court as the Arck decrees."

Hands grasped Clear's forearm and tightened to haul her upright, but Free hissed fiercely and she was quickly released. She was shaking again when her leader rose more carfefully and lifted her with him. He let her feet find the floor and supported her until her balance returned. She took a steadying breath and blinked quickly so that she could look up at him dry-eyed and determined. "Sah, I would never-"

She had to stop and Free released her to squeeze her bound hands instead. His grip tightened, firm and reassuring. "I know you would never betray us. I believe you, Clearwing. Feel no fear, because you'll soon be free. I swear it."

Her mouth trembled, but then her shaking eased and abruptly her lips curved in a surprisingly easy smile. "All right then," she whispered. "If you say."

The leader of the Royal Guards stepped forward to claim Clearwing. Her com linked with the binding field around the young officer's wrists, but tightened gently to pull her away from Free more politely than before. He made no further protest when his Sub-plus was led away. He simply stood there, rigid apart from his fronds, which rose to follow Clear's passage into the link.

She stumbled over her feet, trying to walk half-turned so she could look back at her Leader. She attempted another smile, but it was harder this time and her effort made Free grimace. Somehow he untwisted his face to offer her the shadow of a smile instead, just before she was pushed into the link. She finally turned away and picked up her pace before the guards could shove her again. Getting arrested was irrelevant, so long as Free was on her side.

Clear tried to hold that thought when she was dragged from the link and thrown into an opaque float. Darkness settled over her again and she wondered when she would next see the light.

22

A New Ship

Free followed on the heels of Clear's guards, drawn in their wake by helpless concern. He'd been neatly diverted at Court while his newest officer was plucked and roasted. The trap was obviously set with Sharpeye's connivance, which didn't bode well for Clear.

Free reached the end of the link and balanced on the lip of the main hatch while his gut chewed on raw anger. He was going to stop this, even if he had to use every asset he had.

Free gave a piercing whistle that joined with a mental pulse to summon his private float. A simple, silver disk slipped across the ground and then rose to meet him. It hung in the air beyond the link and he stepped out onto it with easy familiarity. The float powered up around him and a support field flowed from the base to enclose its sole occupant. He disappeared behind an outwardly opaque energy sheath that shaped itself to fit its owner. He sighed and collapsed against its pulsing comfort while the float hurtled into the darkening sky.

It rose quickly above the evening frost, which was already settling across the city. Pools of shadow between the buildings below were starting to glisten with an icy sheen that would spread once the sun sank.

However, Free was oblivious to such ordinary beauty. He reached the upper layers of the atmosphere, far above normal traffic, and sent a priority call to a BGP satellite, but was still surprised to receive an instant response. A wispy image of Lady Grace appeared in the air ahead when his float slowed to a hover. The leader of the Bureau for Genome Protection inclined her head gravely and Free managed the requisite bow in return, although it was brusque to the point of rudeness. He may have his anger under control, but only just. He preferred honesty anyway and his question to Grace was typically blunt.

"What grip do you have on the Arck? It's common knowledge that he treats you leniently, because you have some hold on him."

Lady Amber Grace raised a single, seamed eyebrow in stately surprise. "Tsk, boy, such language. No one has a grip on the Arck. I simply beg. Since the Ageing, that works surprisingly well. I'm too pathetic to be refused in my doddering last days."

The young leader's anger cooled further at the sorrow in her shaking voice.

"I'm sorry, Lady."

Grace sniffed. "Hmm. I think you truly are. I hope you're grateful too. You'll find your new ship has had a full refit. I've made certain-sure it's spaceworthy and has all the best new teks."

Free's face relaxed and tension left his shoulders for the first time since being called to Court. Complete modernisation of his ship was more than he had expected from Grace. It was also a dangerous defiance of the Arck and Free knew there could be only one reason for such a risk.

"You need me," he stated softly, playing his single card openly, convinced now that he was right. "You need me, because you've lost Wing."

Grace flicked a finger in admission. It seemed she saw no point in denying the obvious. "The BGP put eons into breeding you, boy. You have no idea how vital you are. Now, instead of two, I have just one. Nightwing is gone and that is a stellar disaster. In truth he was needed by all kres. He was more dynamic than you, more brilliant, more confident, more creative-"

"I know," Free interrupted softly. "That was all-times obvious. He was more what you wished for. Your first choice."

"Nonsense," the old lady snapped, while her jaw quivered harder than ever. "Although your modesty can be a plus, it can also be drakking annoying. I was going to state that Wing was also more arrogant, more reckless, more thoughtless and more ulcer-inducing stubborn than you. I concentrated on him solely because it was needed. It's time to cross the lines of your family. More than time, it's vital. He was simply more likely to succumb to Goldown's attractions than you."

"For sure," Free agreed heatedly, "that ditch tried to kill me-"

"Unfortunate," Grace said, with a look of such cold calculation that something in Free's chest froze.

"Unfortunate?"

"Ye," the old lady agreed. "Unfortunate because Gold is the only remaining female from the FarFlight line and your best genetic mate."

Free tried to back away from the image before him, but was stopped by his float field. He was so furious that he was beyond words. He shook a finger that was stiff with outrage in an unequivocal 'no'.

"Yes," Grace hissed, and he abandoned speech, knowing his voice would shake as much as his finger.

I will never bed Goldown.

Grace's fronds quivered with amazement. "Of course not. How can you think I would ask such? The enmity between you is clear and I surely don't blame you for it, boy. I would never-times expect you to touch the princess. The mating has no need to be done in person. I'm ready to facilitate. I can convey the necessary for procreation."

"The necessary?" Freefall choked. "Gods, call it what it is, Grace. You're pimping for sperm. My sperm."

"Most perceptive. Now you know what I need from you. I refitted your ship to keep you alive. A new favor will cost more. How urgent do you want it?"

Free could only frown in reply, caught by the very openness he was seeking. He finally knew what Grace wanted from him and it wasn't good. Not good in the slightest. He swallowed hard against revulsion and the old lady watched intently, stroking the amber jewel at her throat in apparent unconcern. She kept her expression blank while he struggled and settled back in her seat, to presumably wait patiently for his answer. However, Free met her eye and raised a finger in agreement.

"Ye, you've a deal."

"So fast?" she snapped, but Free refused to flinch.

"Ye, to children. If you can fix my part of the deal first."

Grace rearranged the wrinkles of her face in a smile. "Certain-sure the Arck hates you, chick, but still he'll bend to me. Join your new ship and your Sub-plus will follow."

Free grew very still, while the night frost seemed to reach up from the darkening planet and into his float. He shivered, but held Grace's insubstantial gaze. "You knew about Clearwing's arrest," he accused, and she lifted a finger in happy assent.

"Indeed," she admitted, and grimaced when his expression hardened. "I heard, Freefall. I didn't plot. This deed wasn't mine. To set a Harvester free..." She shuddered at such a suggestion. "You think I would do such? An act so blatant and unsubtle?"

A sharp bark of laughter escaped Free. "No," he agreed harshly. "Your attempts to influence are mostly more subtle."

Grace's lips creased in another sly grin. "Mostly."

"You can save Sub-Plus Pinion?"

"Truly. Find your ship, boy, and she'll find you. Do we seal?"

Once again, Free answered without hesitation. "We seal. Send Clearwing to my ship, safe and free, in future exchange for one measure of 'the necessary'."

Grace allowed herself a single wheeze of amusement at his caustic use of her own words, before snapping, "Sealed." Her mind sent a more explicit description of the deal to her com and it linked with Free's in formal acceptance of the bargain. The transaction was registered and Grace's image instantly disappeared.

Freefall collapsed against the support of his float field, but made no further concessions to exhaustion. He had a new ship and a new urgency to launching it. Clan BackBeak would move against Clear as soon as they realized she was free. That vindictive family would not let the humiliation of one of their own go unpunished. He ordered his com to release adrenaline, despite its muted protest, and his vision cleared. He looked down at the port and his float obediently dove in that direction.

It plummeted through the atmosphere, disrupting the progress of numerous floats that belonged to less noble families. Its protective field was glowing red by the time Free scorched past the public transport links. His new ship was easy to identify amongst the orderly rows of hulls. It was more than twice the size of its nearest neighbours, which were already frosted in its shadow. He skidded to a halt before a main hatch as large as the entrance to the supplicants' hall.

Free's float powered down and settled gently on the stained terramac of a much-used dock, but he stepped onto that soiled surface without a glance. His attention was on the hull that curved above him. Its violet sweep seemed to disappear overhead, merging with the purple sky. It may have been an ancient ship, its fluted diamond shape rounder than the modern fashion, but it was still impressive. It had presence and, as Grace had promised, it was in pristine condition.

Free sniffed, then looked higher and higher again. Drak, but the old beast was impressive. She wasn't the sleek new ship of his dreams, but still... he realized he was smiling. That was odd. Certainly since Wing left. Free's face slipped into a more familiar frown and he took a final look at the darkening sky of his home world, before stepping into his new ship.

He entered a marble-lined link large enough to load pachyderm birds. It stretched ahead of its young commander, and brightly lit openings edged with gold spiralled around its glowing length.

Free frowned at that opulent expanse. It was not only fully lit, it was also weightless. He hesitated at such unexpected signs of full power, but only briefly. He shrugged a hand and then pulsed himself sedately along the luminous passage. Corridor openings swept past in an ordered curve, all large and welcoming, but he resisted the temptation to explore. Instead, he pulsed his com again and moved more rapidly to the heart of the leviathan.

Several minutes passed and Free's awe returned as the plush passage continued to pass in blurred splendour. He increased his speed until the link was nothing more than a vague impression of black and gold that abruptly vanished when he finally shot into the nest. The marble walls disappeared into darkness on either side, despite the fact that the central consoles were all fully powered. Their gentle light barely touched the distant curve of the massive nest's bulkheads. However, it did illuminate a familiar figure floating above the leader's chair.

"Gull," Freefall called to his friend in relieved recognition. "Do you never rest, Sector Senior?" He braked hard, but realized he had plenty of space to slow to a sedate drift before reaching his console.

Gull Snowbeak answered his leader's grin with a precise bow of his head. "Welcome-on, sah. Also warm congratulations, Sector Leader." He bowed again, this time more deeply.

Free's smile disappeared as he pulsed to a halt. "Full thanks, Gull, but this promotion is not all joy." His fronds sent both warning and apology before he grimly admitted his failure to find true favor with the Arck. "We've a single ship for the whole sector."

His subordinate appeared unsurprised and unmoved. "No other attack-leader ships, sah?"

"None."

"Hmmm... how many attack-senior and what level of sub-attack support?"

"None."

This time, Gull did blanch and his fronds rose sharply in shocked protest. "Not one?"

"Not," Free confirmed grimly. "We've sole watch for all-sector with no support."

"Drakking gods," Gull swore, with a blast of fury that hit his Leader hard. "What the hail did you do in Court?"

Free paled at the emotional onslaught until the scars on his cheeks stood out in harsh contrast. He swallowed hard and then bowed his head while his left hand rose to his temple in apology. "I ask my crew to forgive. I should have been more politic."

"No doubt," Gull snarled, and there was a moment of grim silence while Free stared at his Senior in shock. The old kres glared back until his face suddenly creased and his emotions flipped from anger to grief. His fronds bushed in apology and both hands rose to meet his bowed head. "My Lord... Leader, forgive please. I was in shock and spoke more than I should. I ask you to forget what was said and sent."

"Of course," Free offered at once and Gull's fronds sagged with relief.

However, his head stayed up and his expression was as intense as his voice. "Take care," he whispered hoarsely. "I beg you to hide your pride at Court. There's no win with this defiance. I fear our Arck has come to hate you, Freefall."

A chill touched the young leader, but he managed a reassuring smile. "Have you only just noted such, Gull? You need to pass more time in gossip."

His Senior frowned in response and bowed once more, this time from the waist. "If you say, sah." He straightened and they shared a smile, although Gull's was clearly forced. "What priority? We've much to do before lift next week."

"Tomorrow," Free corrected crisply. "We lift next day. Start the call up, because we lift in ten hours, even if crew light."

Gull's fronds spasmed and his frown returned. "I need more time," he protested. "We all do. Sar, our people need planet rest. They've earned such."

"I know," his leader agreed bitterly. "I know full well, but there's no time, Gull. Clan BackBeak are hunting and we need urgent planet-lift."

His Senior stiffened in affront. "They dare target you, sah?"

"Myself and Sub-Plus Pinion. I'll tell all once we lift, but for now we need total effort." He paused briefly, giving Gull a chance to analyse their situation. "I'm sending all crew the option of tour-out for this one. There's no disgrace to stay home."

Gull was silent, digesting the implications of such an offer. Free rested a hand on his senior's shoulder, trying to read the emotions behind his now tightly curled fronds.

"That means you too, Gull. You can tour down with no-"

A hiss stopped the rest of his offer and the older kres pulled away from Free's hand. "A Senior moves with his leader," Gull barked, and his fronds quivered with suppressed emotion. "We lift together. Sah."

Free sighed, but managed a faint smile. "Good. Where would I get without you, Gull?"

"Somewhere dull and second-rate. You'd be bored-as getting there and cetain-sure late too."

An amused snort escaped Free and even his unsettled Senior managed a brief, but genuine smile. However, they were quickly distracted. The whistle of an entry request trilled through the nest and several seconds later its echo returned from the walls.

Free looked up to see which member of his crew was the first to respond to the call-up. He blinked at the image from the main hatch and leaned forward. "Is that Sub BackBeak?"

Gull answered with a snarl. "You said they were hunting, sah, but this is beyond insult. To plant a spy so blatantly."

"Easy, Gull. I doubt he's a traitor, but he's too young for this trip anyway. Warn him off."

"Don't mistake youth for innocence, sah. He's still a BackBeak," Gull growled, glowering at the image from the main hatch. The boy fidgeted, but had the good sense not to whistle again.

"Send him off," Free ordered and settled into the Leader's chair.

"Stand easy, Sub," Gull said pointedly to the squirming youngster. "This mission is for bonded crew only, so you're excused. It's ranked as top risk, with no return date. Understood?"

The young officer's throat bobbed up and down, forcing him to pause before answering. "Understood, sah. I volunteer."

Free exchanged a frown with Gull, before gesturing to include himself in the video feed. "Why?"

Sub BackBeak snapped into a bow. "Leader." The youngster straightened to stare at them solemnly, his brown eyes wide and innocent. "Opportunity, sah. When my Uncle failed you and lost his rank, he not only dishonored himself, but also brought shame to the Clan."

"Your Tetrark is angered?"

"Grandmai is most displeased. She'll favor me instead, if I can redeem our position in the Fleet. A dangerous mission should offer me chances to advance."

"You'll risk your life in the hope of a promotion that might make you First Heir?"

"Of course, sah. Wouldn't you?"

A burst of laughter escaped Gull, followed by some throat clearing and a cough.

Free gave him a warning look, but only in passing. The Leader's mind was busy with his unexpected volunteer. "You wish to do your family duty?"

"I wish to fulfil all my responsibilities, starting with those to you and then the Fleet, sah."

Free felt that strange twitch of the lips again, as if his mouth was trying to smile. "I like the way you order your priorities. Welcome on, Sub."

A grin split the chick's face and he sketched a quick bow, before falling through the hatch the second the security field relaxed.

"He's truly giving me no chance to re-think." Free shared his amusement with Gull, but his Senior stared dourly at him. "What?"

"That one will need close watching."

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job of that," Free observed, making his friend sigh, but any reply was overwhelmed by an urgent entry whistle. It shrieked through the nest, demanding link access.

"Who's using emergency coms?" Gull yelled, before flicking a finger to cancel the alert.

Free called up the main hatch scan and his heart faltered then jumped when he saw who was at the door.

Gull's reaction was much less welcoming. "Sub-Plus Pinion? I'll bust her wings straight back to sub if she uses a top-level entry claim again." Free catapulted from his seat, slapping his Senior heartily on the back when he blasted past. Gull was driven across the nest, twisting to look back at Free with his mouth wide.

"We could do that, or we could promote her instead. Complete the DNA tag and then let her in. I wish full level security for everyone boarding. I'm off to meet Clearwing. I'll manage her debrief." He was gone before the order was finished, accelerating hard for the link while his last words hung in the air behind him.

"I'm certain-sure you will," his Senior called after him, but Free ignored the cry.

He accelerated down the link instead and it flew past in a creamy blur, but his headlong progress was interrupted by a chirp from his com. He glanced down at the image relayed by Gull and cursed loudly. It wasn't Clear imperiously demanding entry to the ship, but her companion Lady Grace. He relayed permission to the nest, even as his face set and his fronds curled tight.

Not yet. She can't collect from me yet. However, he suppressed all trace of his feelings while he made a final drive to close with the couple now approaching from the end of the link. He sensed Clear's surprise when she helped Grace drift to a halt and realized he was still moving at speed. He hurtled past his Sub-plus and heard the older kres cluck in sharp disapproval, but instead of annoying him, her reproach brought a grin to his lips.

Free flipped smoothly and com thrust straight after the somersault to start braking. He flew feet-first at the sculpted opening of a major passage and his heels hit its silk wrapped edge precisely. Gravity reclaimed his lower body and his legs bent to absorb the impact before flexing to push back. He had lost most of his speed and wafted to a halt beside the leader of the BGP.

"Welcome on, Lady Grace," he offered politely, with a full court bow despite the lack of leverage in the weightless link.

The old lady merely sniffed in response. "Still addicted to flash entrances, Sector Leader?" she queried, and he inclined his head.

"So it seems. Much thanks for escorting Sub-Plus Pinion." He turned meaningfully toward the main hatch, but Grace refused to turn back with him. Instead, she broadcast amused surprise.

"I've no time to play nursemaid. Any-all, the Sub-Plus is quite capable of escorting herself."

"Of course-"

Grace continued without the slightest regard for Free's response. "I came with Pinion because it suited me. I wish to close-see my investment." She looked innocently around the impressive vessel, but Free knew her real interest.

"Why do I suspect you don't mean the ship?" he asked dryly, and was rewarded by the conspiratorial flicker of a seamed eyelid.

"Better, boy, better. I trust I'm welcome-on for the full tour." She turned away from Free without waiting for his consent. "You, Pinion. You may escort me to my quarters."

However, the young officer turned first to her Leader. "Sah?" she asked calmly and waited for Free's permission.

He had to breathe deeply first, but the old lady was right. His confirmation was merely a formality. "Please."

"Yesah," she answered smartly, but then hesitated before turning away. "And thank you, sah. I needs must say a total thanks. You held faith in me, despite all appearances. So heartfelt thanks. Thanks for all times. Thanks forever. I owe you so much. There's no way to expres my gratitude. I don't know how to say-"

"Truly?" Grace asked drily, interrupting the flow of words, and Clear's mouth snapped shut.

"You're most welcome," Free said quickly, forestalling further comments from the old lady. "But my motives were self-serving. I'd no wish to lift without my DS."

Clear offered an automatic salute and started to turn away again before her fronds bushed in shock. She spun back wide-eyed to face her grinning leader. "DS, sah?" she croaked. "Data Senior? Senior? Really?"

"Truly," he assured her with genuine delight, although Clear was still solemn with shock.

"Oh," she managed in response. "Oh. Thank you, sah. True, utmost thanks. Absolute, full thanks."

Grace groaned and muttered, "Not again," but her protest was ignored.

"I won't let you down," Clear promised, and Free reached out to squeeze her shoulder in quick congratulations.

"I know you won't. I've complete faith."

"Good, sah, because I've the same in you-"

"Oh pity an old lady's digestion," Grace moaned, throwing a hand to her brow, before moaning again.

Free abruptly remembered his unwelcome guest and pushed away from his new DS before flicking a finger in dismissal.

"Please place Lady Grace somewhere peaceful and too quiet to aggravate stomach acid."

"Sah," Clear agreed, lifting the tip of a frond to acknowledge his hint to stow the old kres far from the nest and far from Free's quarters.

Grace obviously understood the order too, but cackled happily in response. "I'll be well enough if I can't hear you two tweeting at each other. I'll take some rest now and join you pre-lift, Leader."

Free bowed to the inevitable and to Lady Grace. "As you wish. I'll inform you when we're ready. Do you have a preference in attendants-?"

"My own will board soon-as," she informed Free sweetly and his fronds tucked tight in an effort to hide his annoyance at the presence of more civilians.

"Of course. If you need any-all just ask my Supply Senior. And again, welcome onto the Grace, My Lady." He gestured at the ship surrounding them and the elderly kres blinked twice in quick succession, but that was her only response to the vessel's new name.

"Hmmpf. Trust it flies smooth," she quavered doubtfully, and Clear stiffened beside her.

"I'm sure it shall," the DS stated with youthful certainty. "It has the very best leader in the universe."

"And the best crew. A leader only ranks with his crew," Free quickly amended, making Grace scowl and clutch her chest.

"Stop," she ordered dourly. "I'm sweet intolerant and you two paired are sickly. Enough. Take me, girl." She offered a withered hand, which Clear carefully clasped. "Haste, child. Before one of you feels compelled to speak and the other forced to answer."

The younger kres used minimal thrust to turn them both and drifted back to the large opening that Free had used earlier to stop his headlong dash. She looked over her shoulder while she ushered Grace carefully into its gravity and smiled at Free over her wizened charge's head. He felt elated, despite the danger, and watched Grace's departure with smug satisfaction. However, his happiness was plucked by her final words. They wavered back into the link and his kres hearing was hit hard by each one.

"I get so sick of sweet. Where's Nightwing when I need his selfish cynicism?"

Free's smile melted away, along with his contentment. He turned back toward the nest and toward a familiar sorrow. He doubted he would ever see his cousin again.

23

The Auction House

Darsey's foot flew forward to strike Nightwing squarely in the groin.

"Ouch," he complained and raised an eyebrow when he looked down at her target. "Are you sure you forgive?" he asked pointedly, and she answered with a feral grin that she hoped showed more teeth than pleasure.

She feinted left, but, as she moved, tipped forward and spun so that the back of her heel connected with Nightwing's temple. Surprisingly, he staggered, despite his defense field, and raised his palm in the signal to break off.

Darsey was tempted to misunderstand, but controlled the impulse and backed away instead. She silently ordered her new com out of combat mode and relaxed. It was a relief not to want to slay everything in sight. Not that she'd ever tell the kres that. Not any more.

Darsey glanced back at Nightwing, who was perched on the edge of the console studying her. She returned his gaze coldly. She was willing to work with him again, but only because he had given her an illicit com and a plan of escape. She was still unsure how far to trust either of those things. How far do I trust you? she wondered, and he raised a brow in response.

"You can all-times trust me, Darse. I swear it. You know the risk I'm taking with this. Com risk and training risk. Greon would gut me..."

Darsey looked away, covering her mouth and pretending to yawn. Wing was so fixated on himself it was ridiculous, but he was right about the risk. He was making an effort and more importantly, her only escape plan had come from him. Her fingers strayed to the invisible com hugging her wrist, a habit that was already ingrained. She stroked the hidden metal and it seemed to warm with the contact. Her hand closed possessively around the unseen band and the kres frowned.

"I'm pleased you enjoy the com, but it remains a loan. I need to swap it for a lesser one when we part."

"When you help me escape."

"Yes." Wing held Darsey's gaze and his fronds rose beseechingly. "Trust me. I will see you set for home."

She shrugged, before turning away. Could he sense how vulnerable she felt? Everything was about to change and her only hope of a good outcome lay with the monster who'd bought her and hit her and betrayed her. The monster taking her to auction.

Darsey's fingers closed around her com again. The monster's com. His very best com, taken from deep storage and revealed to her as an act of faith. She still wasn't sure if that was enough to restore her faith in him, but it was a start.

A chime sounded from the console and Pertwing appeared. The icon looked at Darsey not Nightwing, which was warning enough for Darsey to taste bile.

"It's time," the program announced and Darsey tasted more than acid.

She wrapped her arms tight around her empty stomach and looked to Wing. He gazed solemnly back.

"Ready?"

"To escape? D-definitely." Darsey caught her lower lip with her teeth and cursed her com's combat protocol. Her panic had it surging, but what could she do? A slave auction called for a little hysteria. A hand brushed her shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine, but Wing stepped quickly back.

"Remember we're not going to the slave sale. I'm going to follow an irresponsible urge to explore the main market first and then carelessly lose you. After we book you on a reputable ship of course."

Darsey stopped hugging herself. "Greon will hurt you."

"Most likely."

"He might try to kill you."

"It's possible."

Darsey shrugged. "You don't seem too concerned."

"Neither do you."

"I don't like Greon much."

Wing laughed at that and Darsey moved the mask of her face into what she hoped was a smile. "I know you'll beat him. When you finally fight back, you'll take him out."

"You truly think so?"

"Sure. He's got the brains and the looks, but you've got Jileea."

Wing laughed again and offered a bow. "Thanks for your faith, Lady. I truly hope you're right, although if I die, at least you might feel some regret."

"Regret? Absolutely. Breaking in new owners is hell."

Wing didn't laugh this time. Instead he stepped close to lift her hand to his lips. He held her gaze, while kissing the inside of her wrist. Damn, more spine tingles. Aliens were such a pain.

Wing gave her an intense look that didn't help the tingles at all. "That hell is one you won't ever know again. But now, we needs must go."

"Huh?" For a fleeting moment Darsey was unsure what he meant, but then memory returned and there was nothing left to say. She pulled her arm free and turned to stride toward the door. She stopped abruptly when warning logos appeared in the air, followed by a line of light. It surged along the floor and walls with a growing hum, before sweeping over Darsey. She jumped back, straight into Wing.

"What's that?" she demanded and he smiled down at her.

"Immigration scan. We're cleared to land on Tsordia."

"Oh. Goody." Darsey let the strange line vibrate past her, before attempting the door again. She made it this time. Unfortunately. Her trip down the passage was rapid and the flight along the link even faster. She reached the main hatch far too soon. A silver field blocked the opening and she watched herself grow in that mirror, while Wing pushed her forward. She threw her arms wide as if to embrace her future and her reflection became a cross ahead of her.

Darsey shuddered, and then closed her eyes to hide from the sight of her own panic. She stumbled on the lip of the hatch, while her body stretched flat against the smooth chill of the mirrored shield. Wing landed behind her, warming her back, but everything ahead remained frigid.

"We run," Darsey whispered to herself, but it sounded more like a question than a plan. She opened her eyes to study her companion's reflection. "What if we can't find a ship due to leave?"

Wing's smile was reassuringly confident. "I'll pay one to lift as-is."

"What if no one will?"

"I'll pay lots."

Darsey squirmed sideways to look up at the real kres. "You have lots?"

"Hail yes. Millions."

"Millions? Really."

Wing frowned in apparent irritation at her tone. "Truly. Jileea was right. I was once a kres noble. Of course, after the Arck exiled me, he used a disHonor tax to take my inheritance, but he missed some. I'd already told my guardian, Crest, to stow all he could."

"So you're rich," Darsey stated, watching Wing closely, but his response seemed genuine.

He just shrugged a hand and said with utter confidence, "Rich enough to buy anytime passage. Rich enough to buy a ship if needs-must."

Darsey absorbed his answer and felt genuine hope for the first time since her capture. Perhaps she really could escape and be beyond Greon's reach before he realized. However, a waft of chill air interrupted her thoughts and she looked back down the link in sudden horror.

A huge figure rocketed toward them and in seconds the Bandit's leader was upon them. He slammed into the field, making it ripple under Darsey and throw streamers of light around the tunnel. He towered over her, before thrusting his face closer to study her intently. "She's inserted in Premier sale this afternoon, Nightwing."

"So soon?" the kres asked calmly, but his hand tightened on Darsey's waist.

"Ye. They've priority on any new species. Standing policy for centuries." Greon frowned heavily at his Senior. "Perhaps I should do the on-sell. You're an ignorant kres with no knowledge of this and no instinct for it either."

Wing tilted his hand in a 'no matter' gesture. "As you wish, sah. There's no need for me to learn about slaving. It sounds most unsavoury. May I have shift-leave to visit the market?"

He was stopped by an angry growl from his Leader. "No need to learn of slaving? Still fancy yourself a high and moral kres, eh? It's past time you accepted the muck that supports this ship. Take the drakking slave and don't try to pass her on to my lower officers. You do the sales prep and the sale. Clear?"

"Yes, Sah."

Greon's lips quirked in satisfaction and he took a long, last look at Darsey. "She'll bring a fortune, boy. And that's what I expect. A fortune plus." He punched a fist into the silver wall and it shattered. Shards of light flew away, leaving Darsey without support. Oh, crap-

She fell forward through the hatch, into sunshine and Greon's laughter, but Wing's arm round her waist stopped her tumbling from the ship. She hung there, hardly aware of being caught, lost in the new world rising to meet them. The port below was still distant, but growing fast. The Bandit had floated in from space, clearly weightless and now drifting down while thrusters pushed it to-and-fro among a dozen other vessels.

Darsey let Wing help her find her balance, but her attention was on the color and movement of the city below. Tsordia's market centre was dazzling, even after the gaudy interior of the Bandit. There were ships everywhere, all docked so close it seemed impossible that their descending craft would find a space. The crater made by each landed vessel had shovelled earth into the shadows of the next. That soil glistened with oily rainbow hues, despite being piled into the shade of hulls that were almost as bright. Colorful towers rose against the subdued gray of the sky as far as Darsey could see.

The Bandit's progress slowed and then stopped, before the ship suddenly dropped. Another craft was lifting below and their ship fell into its vacancy, barely avoiding a collision when the departing vessel accelerated upwards. Darsey held tightly to the hatch while they settled hard and two other ships swept past above them, disappointed in their hunt for a park.

"That is so inefficient," she protested breathlessly, but was quickly distracted again.

They were in the shade now, surrounded by other hulls. However, the world was far from dull. The nearby ships' outlines were blurred and their bulk softened by the rapid flights of hundreds of brightly colored birds. The air around the port was alive with motion. Flocks of brilliantly colored creatures dove and wheeled past them. They swooped between ships and around snaking tubes that hung in mid-air.

Everywhere Darsey looked, there was movement. The slave market was alive with activity and bright display. She was transfixed until one of the closest birds dove straight at her. It grew alarmingly when it closed on the ship and she belatedly realized the bird was enormous. It hurtled at the link and Nightwing had to tighten his arm around her waist to stop her jumping backwards.

"It's kay," he promised when the gigantic creature braked to a wing-whirring halt in front of them. "Transport," he explained, although Darsey studied the strange apparition doubtfully.

It seemed to be a bird, at least it had feathers and there was a blurred impression of wildly flapping wings above its back, but it was bigger than any bird she had ever seen. Much bigger and it seemed to have four wings. It hovered before them, too large to enter the link, and regarded her stolidly from eyes as dark and shiny as cannonballs.

"Transport indeed," Greon urged, before slapping Wing's shoulder. "I've preset co-ordinates to the Premier auction house. Take her. Return with money." The Leader lifted a beefy hand and a line of credit flowed from his wrist to a band above the bird's closest claw. Its mouth opened in response and Darsey expected some sort of squawk, but there was no sound. Instead, the purple-tipped beak gaped further and the bird's breast started to expand. The gold and orange feathers mottling its chest trembled before tipping to one side when a translucent blue pouch pushed past them. A gigantic bib expanded from the creature's throat and continued to bulge while its lower beak dropped, gaping wide enough to hit the edge of the ship's hatch. It almost landed on Darsey's toes and this time she had to jump back.

Wing caught her again, which was a habit she really needed to break, but Greon almost pushed them both from their perch. He barged past to leap onto the bird's head, crushing feathers longer than his arms and making the creature dip then bob, with wings whirring. The Leader wobbled, before striding along the bird's body to slide from its tail.

A gleaming disc sliced through the shadows to catch him. Greon landed lightly on the flying circle, but looked back with a scowl. "I've business to attend." His eyes strayed to Darsey and his tongue appeared between his lips. "Sale. Cash. Go." A field shimmered from the disc and gold tendrils licked upwards to hide the Leader. He kept his eyes on Darsey until he disappeared and then his sarcophagus surged away, into an equally golden sky.

Darsey dragged her attention back to the bird which studied her with one of those cannonball eyes. Her darkly stretched reflection stared back and she wondered how her other self could seem so calm.

Wing steadied her once more and she realized she was leaning away from the bird. "Sorry," he offered. "I should've told you about the squilliks. They're safe and cheap. Quick too. Just step into the mouth and take the pouch opening. It's this side of the tongue, not behind."

"Great," she said. "If I hit stomach acid, I've gone too far."

"Most definite," he agreed with a grin and then nodded at his com. "The Tsordian port just gave final clearance. We're okay for planet-side."

"This is not okay," Darsey sighed, but let Wing take her hand and followed him through the ship's field and onto that flat, red beak. She was instantly hit by sounds and then, much more horrifically, smell. The drone of ships powering up and down, the roar of amplified instructions and the frantic beat of multiple wings would have seemed overwhelming if not for the scent. Instead, the smell from the squillik's mouth demanded attention from every one of Darsey's horrified senses.

"Oh gross," she choked when a fragrance resembling skunk-dunked, rotted fish wafted over her. "No way," she protested, but, before she could resist Wing's impatient pull, the stench vanished. It took her nose a further second to shed that first impression and realize the air was fresh again. She sagged gratefully against Nightwing, who seemed unusually distracted.

"'Sorry, I was slow to start up your com filter," he offered tersely. "It's long since I smelt a squill. They don't make good dinner partners."

"Oh, I don't know. After Greon..."

They shared a smile, but it was brief. Wing's com chimed and an image of the Leader appeared over it. "No delays. If the squill gets impatient it'll eat you. I ordered express delivery."

Darsey looked to Wing in dismay, but his expression was now coldly unconcerned. He jerked his head toward their hovering transport. "Jump."

Greon disappeared, but Wing still moved at speed and disappeared into the gaping hole revealed when the squillik curled its tongue back into its throat.

"Great," Darsey muttered between clenched teeth, crouching to balance on the edge of the waiting orifice. She leaned forward, but before she could lower herself, the squillik moved. It tipped its head back, throwing its beak into the air and neatly deposited its reluctant passenger head first into its pouch.

Darsey slithered past dry, smooth skin to slam into Wing's shoulder. The kres caught her and righted her so that her feet slid past her head to join his, lower in the pouch. The bird's throat muscles tightened around them and the elastic skin of its pouch contracted to hold them close. They were jammed together while it hovered briefly, testing the balance of its cargo.

"What are we going to do?" Darsey demanded and her com helped keep the quaver from her voice. "Can you redirect the squill? Escape to the market like we planned?"

"No chance. Greon gave it a priority order. It will take us to the auction house, but that could even work better."

"Better?"

"Certain-sure. We'll register, but they won't sell you at once. They can't. They'll have to advertise and draw buyers. We can slip away while they're busy, with hours free before any search starts. If we're stopped I'll claim Greon wants you shown at the market to gather more interest."

"Yes." Darsey squeezed Wing's arm in relief. "That could work. It has to." She started to relax against him, but then grabbed his arm more seriously when the squillick suddenly dove toward the ground. It wheeled left, then right, using its momentum to pick its way past hulls they could only see as shadows. Darsey was reminded of her first time skipping against a planet's atmosphere, alternately caught between gravity and freefall. Her stomach turned over, but experience helped her control it.

"Fragrant and comfortable," she observed dryly, and Wing laughed.

"Greon booked this trip because it's cheap. A single credit a flight."

"He's as generous as he is handsome. What does a bird do with money?"

"Returns it to the gentik. They re-gened squilliks to carry passengers. The squills trade credit for fish."

Darsey raised a brow against Nightwing's cheek. "They work for fi-ish ah-" she gasped, unable to continue, despite her experience with extreme flight.

The bird was in heavy traffic, surrounded by other squilliks and dimmer shapes that were hard to see through the translucent skin. It ducked and dived, turning on a wing tip to scrape over one of the massive hoses that looked disconcertingly like giant worms.

"Planetary link," Wing explained in answer to her unspoken question. "The next, most cheap way to travel. Darse, when we stop bouncing around, I need your com." She tensed against him, while fear surged through her. "Just for a time," he promised. "You'll be pre-sale scanned and the mermaridian would find it."

"Of course," Darsey answered reasonably. After all she still had plenty of time for hysteria. Her wrist was resting against his and her com appeared when she released it. It sprang open and she shuddered while he quickly compressed it into his com's storage.

"Thanks. I think we're near-there, but don't worry. I'll expand my com field to keep you fish free."

The squillik was climbing again, rising steeply with a muted rustle of wings while it struggled back toward the cloud layer. There were no further flashes of color from beyond its pouch. Their bird had veered from the path of most squillik flights. However, the subdued shapes that they could dimly see were now more numerous. They rose sedately around the squillik, like misshapen bubbles seeking some higher surface.

"Private floats," Nightwing murmured while their ride rose into the clouds too. "Like Greon's."

Their haven darkened in the dimmer light, but only briefly. The squillik surged from the cloud and fresh color exploded around them. This time, the bird did squawk, an irritable protest against the shafts of light refracted by a giant prism overhead. A crystal structure floated above the clouds in monolithic splendour. Darsey could see it clearly, even through the bird's pouch. A gigantic pyramid, it hovered alone within a rainbow haze. Every faceted face flashed brilliantly, bright enough to blind her without the protection of the pouch. Even from that haven, she could easily watch its dazzling approach.

It was overwhelming, a creation of pristine beauty, but as they drew close Darsey realized its pure appearance was deceptive. Small shadows stained those translucent walls. Dark specks betrayed the movement of the prism's occupants. The people inside were black motes in constant motion. The effect reminded her of some elaborately faceted snow globe that had been shaken to swirl soot instead of snow.

"Wow," Darsey whispered and, from the way Wing's arm tightened around her, he seemed to agree. She was distracted from the spectacle by a sudden realisation. "You've never seen this before."

"No, as I've said, kres are not slavers."

"But..." She paused and tried to stay calm, although his answer was devastating. "You don't know what they're going to do. You've got no idea. How can you time our move? You've no more info on this than me. You... you're clueless-"

"Darsey," he interrupted, holding her closer, and she froze again. "I'm here and I'm not leaving without you. I swear it. I don't know all about this, but I'll make it work. The mermaidean will want to keep you safe too. They can't sell damaged goods. Any-all, I won't let them hurt you."

Darsey swallowed hard. "Is that another promise?"

Wing hesitated for a moment and she managed to pull away just far enough to study his features in the shifting light. He was staring back and when his fronds lightly touched her brow, she realized he had paused deliberately. He wanted to make sure that she knew his answer was genuine.

"Absolutely. To this and every other oath. No one else will own you. Ever." His grave statement was underlined by a brief mental touch that conveyed both honesty and commitment.

Darsey tried to hold onto that moment of conviction, but it vanished when their transport suddenly rose steeply to tip them together in a tangle of limbs. The bird gave a final flurry of wings and managed to gain a claw hold on a crystal ledge. The squill teetered for a moment before the weight of its passengers tipped it forward into a more secure landing. Its beak fell open immediately, the purple tip slamming into a crystal floor.

That jarring contact reverberated through its taut pouch, setting Darsey shaking so that Wing had to hoist her through the hole above them. Damn. She really needed her com back. She slithered free to slide down the beak and instantly forgot her discomfort when she landed in a world of wonder.

Light, spacious and criss-crossed by rainbows, the building rising above her was a fitting setting for its sparkling denizens. People were everywhere, gliding over the transparent floor at a bewildering variety of speeds, some preposterously slow while others moved so fast they were simply a blur. Darsey was scarcely aware of Wing landing beside her. She turned in a small circle and then another, absorbing the building, the sky and the beings filling both.

"Pretty," he stated brusquely, and she laughed at the absurd understatement. They shared a smile, but he sobered first. "What happens within is not pretty at all," he reminded her, and they turned together to face the crystal steps before them. The building seemed transparent, but its stairs were strangely shadowed and climbed sharply into inexplicable darkness.

Darsey took a deep breath, her last taste of free air, before stepping over the threshold of the auction house. Her foot came down on the first crystal stair, but never struck it. Her step was arrested just short of the surface. She hit a cushion of air instead and teetered in surprise. The high surface unbalanced her and she almost fell. However, Wing stepped up beside her to tuck a hand under her elbow. They steadied themselves together and were abruptly gliding up the stairs, with the same smooth passage as those around them.

The untouched crystal of the prism gleamed beneath them while they climbed with surprisingly little effort. Darsey felt her legs bend and flex, but the slightest touch was enough to lift her higher, to draw her further into the shade. Her eyes told her that she was climbing, but every other sense disagreed. Their progress felt more like sliding down a slippery slope.

The stairs passed too fast for Darsey's liking, but although they rose rapidly any ceiling remained far above. It receded as fast as they climbed, so that it stayed a distant and uniform height, with no sense of a solid roof. However, the light slowly changed from white and blinding to a more muted gold. They floated off the final stair of the highest landing into a central atrium.

In front of them a massive waterfall fell through the pyramid, a silver curtain blocking their path. It filled the entire landing and Darsey tried to stop and stare, but the floor wouldn't let her. Instead it kept flowing forward and carried her with it. She tried to walk backwards, but the strange cushion of air accelerated to waft her faster, straight at the monstrous waterfall.

"Wing," she squeaked and her fingers found her companion's hand. She squeezed tighter than she intended, but Nightwing didn't flinch.

"It's kay. See."

Darsey stared unblinking at the silent curtain of water she was rushing toward. They hurtled into it and she grabbed Wing's arm with her other hand, but the flow parted ahead of them. A vee shaped gap appeared above the path, looking like the ripple left by a speedboat. She had to duck her head against his shoulder to fit, but it worked.

Wing put his arm around Darsey while they slowed to a sedate drift under the weight of a ten story waterfall. Silver boiled above them and the light grew dim. The path under their feet began to glow blue and when she glanced up at the kres he looked haggard. He also looked starkly alien and she suddenly realized how familiar his strange features had become to her. She'd started to see him as just another person, but that didn't mean he was human. Not even close.

Darsey looked away with a shudder and her spasm seemed to trigger a nightmare. The bridge under them pulsed red while a siren sounded and then the silent waterfall began to roar. She looked up just as the shield protecting them vanished.

The water fell and Darsey fell with it. The weight of a giant fist pounded her while she plummeted down into darkness and the noise was so overwhelming it seemed as solid as the water. She could hardly feel Wing's fingers clamped tight round her wrist, but she knew they must be there because she was still alive. His com field was the only thing keeping her that way and she prayed he wouldn't let go. Not that it really mattered, because the impact when they finally hit the bottom was going to be brutal. His shield would be overloaded and they would both die anyway.

Darsey gulped, while the universe roared past faster than ever. She could hardly think with her senses completely swamped, but there must be a way out. Service tubes or hatches? Anything at all?

Yes.

The word appeared unexpectedly in Darsey's mind, but before she could make sense of it Wing's fingers dug deeper into her wrist. She tried to protest, but had no breath to cry out, even when he jerked hard on her arm. It felt as if it was being wrenched from its socket and she arched in pain, then was abruptly moving, being pulled sideways through the water as she fell.

There was a flash of light ahead and everything instantly felt worse. Darsey's shoulder was throbbing, she could no longer breathe at all and the waterfall was deafening. She lay on her stomach gasping like a fish out of water and finally realized that was exactly what she was. Out of water.

Darsey moaned then tried to move, twitching her limbs in an effort to feel where she was. The floor beneath her was, well, definitely floor and incredibly welcome. It sloped up into darkness, feeling cold and rough, while a thin film of water ran over it.

Someone shouted in the darkness and she jumped. "Darse. Darsey. Are you hurt?"

Darsey wanted to answer, but was shaking too much to speak and had no idea what to say anyway. Was she hurt? She ached everywhere and her arm was on fire, but apart from the trembling everything seemed to be working. There was movement beside her and the slap of someone crawling closer, then a brief touch brushed past her thigh. Fingers found the back of her hand and settled there. Warmth returned at once, shooting up her arm even before Wing's com field flowed over her again.

"Are you well?" he asked in her ear and Darsey managed to laugh.

"Considering the dramatic high dive I'm fine. Where are we?"

"Feeder chute. It adds cleansing agents to the falls, along with any auctioneers who fail to reach their targets."

"Really?"

"Harvesters are strict bosses."

"Oh. That's not very reassuring." Darsey shuddered and huddled closer to Wing in the dark.

"Apologies." His other hand settled on her knee and she let it rest there. "I fear my reassurance is still rather damp."

"It's water logged, but that's okay. It's just this whole situation is making me nuts."

"You wish to eat?"

Darsey smiled and tipped her head back against Wing's shoulder. "No, it's an expression. It means the situation is making me crazy."

"Ah. Agreed. I have nuts."

Darsey choked and started to laugh, turning her head into his chest in an effort to stop before she became hysterical. His arm went round her shoulders and despite the rush of the waterfall everything seemed suddenly very still. She lifted her head and his breath touched her lips, as soft as a whisper.

Darsey jerked out of Wing's embrace to scrabble away from him, up the slope and further into darkness. What was she thinking? She was about to escape from an alien slave market and absolutely could not afford any distractions. Something in her chest gave an unexpected pang, but she pushed herself further up the tunnel anyway.

"How do we get out of here?" Darsey demanded and sensed Wing climbing closer. She gulped, but the sound was covered by the roar of the falls and she turned her back on him to keep feeling her way, while she crawled up the chute. Her groping fingers suddenly found a rough edge and one hand slipped over it.

Darsey lost her balance and tumbled forward, into the colder, deeper darkness ahead. She shut her eyes, digging the nails of her other hand into the crumbling lip, but Wing caught her round the waist from behind. He pulled her back before she could fall, then hugged her close and this time she made no effort to escape.

"Congratulations," he yelled in her ear, "you found the exit."

"I w-wouldn't recommend it."

"Indeed."

Something clicked tight around Darsey's wrist, but there was no smooth flow of warmth. Instead energy slammed into her, making her arch back against Wing. He grunted, his arms tightening around her, but she found her balance and grew still. She had her usual com back, the one he always lent her for their sparring bouts, but for the first time she didn't want to punch him the moment she put it on. It seemed she finally had its amplifying effect under control.

Something groaned deep in the pit beside Darsey and she levitated, half-turned and mule kicked back into the blackness. Her feet failed to connect with anything, but her palms slapped down against slimy stone and she pushed off in a half-tuck to flip over Wing, landing crouched on his far side.

"What the hell was that?" Darsey demanded and felt her companion shaking beside her. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?" Wing sniggered and she realized he was laughing. "That noise was waste being ejected further down the shaft. They must be cleansing the lower levels."

Darsey's cheeks burned and her nails cut into her palms when she clenched her fists, but then a giggle rose up her throat too. "Someone flushed the toilet?"

"Indeed. They release excrement from compression storage into fertiliser tanks below. The Bandit has transported such before."

"How appropriate." Darsey brushed a finger over her com and a faint glow rose from her wrist. She looked up to smile at Wing, but he was watching her warily. "What? Oh no, Iet me guess. We have to climb up the sewer."

"Absolutely."

"Is that going to be as bad as it sounds?"

Wing finally returned Darsey's smile. "That will be dependent."

"On what?"

"How quick you climb." Wing turned away to hoist himself onto the edge of the dark shaft, before giving her a serious look over his shoulder. "Follow fast."

"How?"

"Like this." Wing launched himself across the drop, so that his right side hit the far wall of the shaft an arm's length away. He wedged himself there with his right forearm and foot hard against that wall and braced his left arm on the near side, with that foot anchored on the edge of the opening. "Just crawl up. Only shift one limb at a time. Keep pressure on the others. Your com will help."

"Oh good," Darsey muttered, but Wing was already gone. He relaxed and fell, slithering down the shaft and out of sight. She threw herself forward to dangle over the drop again. "Wing."

The insolent alien grinned up at her from less than a foot away. "You go above. I'll catch you if you fall."

"Oh." That was surprising and strangely comforting. "Alright. Just don't get distracted staring up my skirt."

"It could be worth the drop," Wing called and Darsey's cheeks were warm despite the fact that she was lurching out over the chill void. Her right side slammed into the far wall, but she hardly felt it. Instead she shivered at the heat of his fingers closing round her ankle. "I'll take your weight" he grunted. "Get well braced. Order climbing friction. From your com."

Darsey gave a silent command and instantly felt like a fly, papered to the wall. Every point of contact with that smooth surface was suddenly velcro tight. She hung there for a surprised moment, letting her pulse slow, before launching herself upward. She rose less than a foot, before being jerked to a stop and left hanging, to rock from side-to–side. Her limbs remained stuck to the walls while she dangled between them. Her gut tensed and she looked down past her feet to check whether the kres was laughing at her.

Wing gazed solemnly back. "Lift your fingers first then the forearm below to peel them free, but only release one grip at a time. I'll help if you need support."

Darsey began to climb, trying hard not to think about how far they had fallen and how long the ascent would take. She concentrated on each limb instead. Peel and press. Peel and press. She knew Wing was at her heels, but he climbed silently and she might have been alone in that dark shaft. She shivered and the hand she was placing suddenly slipped.

"Ah," Darsey cried and fell to dangle from one arm and a single foot. She must have been rushing, moving too many holds at once and now she was sliding, her weight pulling her back down the wall. She swung her free leg, searching for purchase, but before she could panic Wing gripped her scrabbling foot.

"Hey," he said calmly, "don't kick."

He broke off when the sound of metal grating against stone echoed down the shaft from above.

Darsey froze too, but only briefly. She was moving as soon as Wing pushed her foot back against the wall, while he surged upwards on her heels, half carrying her. The tunnel shuddered around them and she had to stifle a yelp, but kept on going. Peel and reach higher. Peel and stretch. Peel. Grab. Work round the body. Don't look down and don't look up. Just climb.

Something rumbled overhead more loudly than before and Darsey did look up. Straight into a muddy rain of decompressed waste. A brief rectangle of light far above vanished in a storm of slurry. She almost screamed, but instead managed to close her eyes as well as her mouth, just in time.

Darsey clung like a limpet in that stinking waterfall, but it took all of her com's power to hold her in place. She swayed between the walls while slime ran down her skin and dark snot crusted her eyelashes. Her stomach heaved and she shuddered. Great. A garnish of vomit was just what she needed. The only consolation was that it was bound to hit Wing too. She grimaced with her chin tucked against her chest, but the thunder of that far too solid rain began to fade. Silence slowly returned.

Darsey couldn't be sure the fall was over, with her skin too coated to feel, but oh how she hoped it was. She clung tight in absolute darkness, with her eyes glued shut and breathed deeply though the small hole her com had kept open.

"Go," a voice croaked just beneath her and Wing wedged his shoulder under her lower foot. "Before they flush again."

That thought was all the incentive Darsey needed. Blind and scrambling, half supported by Wing, she climbed as she had never climbed before. She darted upwards like a monkey scampering for the canopy. When her head hit the ceiling above it was the most welcome pain of her life. She didn't even mind when Wing ran into her and jammed her harder against the top of the shaft.

"Hatch shut," he gasped and Darsey began to grope above her head.

The metal surface felt smooth and featureless. She pried around its edges, digging in her nails in an effort to find a gap, but there was nothing. She gulped a breath that sounded disturbingly like a sob. Freedom was so close- she choked back that ridiculous thought with another gulp. Escape from this shaft would lead to the exact opposite of freedom.

Darsey sagged and Wing stretched an arm under her thighs in support. "I won't let them sell you," he promised as if reading her thoughts. "We'll find a way out."

Darsey grimaced at the idea of Wing rummaging through her mind, but was distracted from the kres when the hatch shuddered and coughed above her head. She threw herself to one side and her com enhanced muscles slammed her against the wall. She pressed herself into the dented metal shaft and closed her crusted eyes. However, there was no fresh flow of effluent, only silence and brighter light filtering past her eyelids. It took Darsey another second to realize Wing was shaking again.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No, never. Do I seem suicidal? Though..." He paused and there was further shaking. "Your com response is most cute."

"Cute? Would you like my-boot-in-your-face cute? 'Cos I can do that."

"I'm sure. Hush, I used Greon's access code to open the hatch and I hear footsteps."

A hand the size of a ham reached past the open hatch to circle Darsey's neck. She only had time for a strangled squeak before she was hoisted from the shaft.

# 24

# Sales Prep

Darsey dangled like a kitten, swinging in the grip of a huge and hairy mutt, while muck ran down her body and plopped onto white tiles beneath.

"Luck above," a high, thin voice cried behind her and she tried to turn, but failed. Instead she watched Wing lever himself from the shaft. He looked like a mud man and layers of his dirty hide rippled to the floor, to pool at his feet.

"Disgraceful," the stranger behind Darsey whinnied. "Beyond disgusting. Remove these stinking borraj at once."

Wing wiped a caked hand over his mouth to no effect. He spat instead and there was an outraged gargle from whoever stood behind Darsey. "At once."

The mutt still holding her turned ponderously to face his master, while she swung and dripped and struggled to control her com. Aggression surged through her to make every muscle tense. It would be so easy to kick the hairy hulk right where she knew it would hurt. A lot.

Darsey was saved from her baser instincts by a hand closing on her wrist. Wing clutched the hidden band of her com and she released it to him with regret and relief. She instantly sagged further, while the mutt's grip on her neck became a ring of iron. She gasped and clutched at her captor's fingers, but the thick hair matted over them stopped her from digging in her nails. She tried to feel her legs enough to kick up and back. It was impossible to breathe and all she could see were stars and grit. An unexpected voice, deep and filled with authority, stopped her struggles.

"Release her now."

The mutt flinched and the vice round Darsey's throat snapped open. "Sorry, sah. So sorry." The creature ducked his head until his beard brushed her filthy face.

Darsey shuddered before twisting away on all fours to face the person who had saved her.

It was Nightwing, although the commanding tone he had used was very different to his normal voice. He was staring past her, his face as hard and set as a clay mask. "Take us to the auction." His expression was impossible to read through the drying muck, but his voice was clear and sure.

The mutt dipped lower beside Darsey, but an outraged splutter at her back made her rise and spin again.

A tall mermaridian looked haughtily past her. Silver haired and dressed in robes of chrome he was dazzling, even in the muted light. She blinked and tried to see past the stranger, but he gave her no chance.

"What have you done?" he demanded in a shaking voice and strode forward to stand over Darsey.

She tried to wipe the setting filth from her face, but her hand was just as dirty and she was left blinking against slime. She abruptly realized how they must appear to this mermaridian. Dishevelled beyond mere dirt, covered in mud with their clothing torn, they must have looked worse than beggars. She was unsure how to answer his question, but Wing intervened.

"We're here to sell." His voice was as deep and composed as before, but the mermaridian turned on him with vicious disbelief.

"I am Auctioneer Min-yung and if such as you were selling I would know." His lips creased disdainfully. "You'd not make base market grade, much less Premier. If you wish to sell, I suggest the Rim. I'm waiting for new clients, or I'd see you sent to the Rim pits myself. That would fit your arrogance and your desecration of our waterfall." He looked solicitously toward the now silent curtain of water behind them, while Nightwing spluttered out more muck.

"It's decorative, not sacred," the kres protested, "and we've com codes to pass, because we truly are expected. This is Darsey and her people are a new-found species."

The auctioneer's face collapsed in horror and he spun back to Darsey. "No. No, no, no." He had to force his words through lips puckered by distress. "This... this is the exotic female promised by that borraj Greon? Luck it, luck it, drakking luck. This is disaster. What to do? What course, what course? I'm under the gaze of the prime auctioneer... and all the credit I authorised to spend on advertising... on raising a buyers' bench so fast- arrggh." He closed gray eyes, presumably to cut off the wretched sight before him. "Tragedy. Total tragedy. Where was my Luck when I agreed to such a deal all unseen?" His voice rose to a wail and he seemed to hear himself clearly for the first time. He straightened and opened his eyes, taking a depth breath before lunging at Darsey.

"Hey," Wing protested, but the mermaridian ignored him to grab his merchandise by the arm. He pulled hard with com-enhanced strength and was equally oblivious to her pained cry, muttering to himself in an effort to stay calm.

"All right, all right, any-all right. Relax, relax, and easy-now." He raised his hand and swiped his wrist carefully over Darsey's forehead.

His com field felt warm when it swept across her eyes, moving back and forth to compress the filth, before the auctioneer stopped cleansing to grasp her chin. He held it hard in a grip reminiscent of Greon's first inspection. "They are blue," he snapped, then closed his own eyes and sagged. "Blue eyes should salvage some price. Come." He turned away from Darsey with an imperious gesture that ordered her to follow him. He ignored Wing, who stepped to Darsey's side and took her hand. He squeezed it reassuringly, before letting go to try to straighten his tunic.

Darsey shook her head at his efforts and he grimaced in response, before lifting his com to her face. Warmth swept over her skin again and the sense of weight plastered against her face disappeared. She sighed and found a smile for her companion, who quickly repeated the cleansing of his own features. They studied each other solemnly, until Wing gestured that they should follow Min-yung. The auctioneer was already some distance ahead, but when they turned after him, they both froze to stare at a world of unexpected beauty and chill radiance.

They had reached the very tip of the crystal pyramid where the waterfall plummeted from its highest point to fall through the centre of every level. It filled the air with a shining spray, and threw rainbows across the white flagstones around it. They stood together, too awed to notice anything beyond that strangely silent curtain of water. They could hear it falling, but the sound was much more muted than before.

"Wow," Darsey whispered, and started to shiver. The bright air was damp against her uncommed skin.

"Quick, quick," the auctioneer called, reappearing from the eye-straining brilliance. He beckoned impatiently, but then stopped, staring blankly at Darsey. He moved closer and a forefinger started to nod with increasing enthusiasm. "Yes, yes, yes. Yes. We can do something with this. Certain-sure. Turn." He stopped expectantly and Darsey glared at him. "Turn turn. Hurry on. Is she un-witted? Turn, girl."

However, she planted her feet firmly in place and Wing stepped to her side when Min-yung's expression darkened.

"Auctioneer-" he began soothingly, but was interrupted by an outraged hiss when the mermaridian looked at his clean face for the first time.

"Kres? Kres? A drakking kres? Where is Greon's thought to send a kres? Your kind cause full alert at all times. We only see kres in person when you raid our auctions. Your smug species has been trying to eradicate our business for centuries. That's why the waterfall tried to cleanse you. Your Leader should have expected such. He lacks all intelligence."

"Agreed," Wing said bluntly, locking eyes with Min-yung, who hesitated, before sneering and turning away.

"Follow."

He moved off again, but more sedately this time, and the pair managed to keep pace. Wing took the opportunity to drape his com field around Darsey and it settled against her skin as a gentle warmth, but she hardly noticed its comfort. She was too busy squinting against the rainbow haze surrounding them in an effort to see. There were definitely people nearby, but their dim shapes were almost lost within the liquid light. Several distant figures were moving in the same direction, but they remained indistinct. Only the cool white tiles, beaded with water and fringed with frost, were clear beneath her feet.

Silent and awed, she followed Min-yung deeper into the light. The auctioneer was moving faster now and the air ahead of him was more eye-twisting than ever. It shimmered so fiercely that Darsey felt tears on her cheeks and almost missed his disappearance. He was walking ahead of her, then the air seemed to solidify around him and he was gone.

"What?" Darsey wondered, but Wing continued on without hesitation.

"Security field," he said succinctly and they both followed the auctioneer.

The air around Darsey seemed to thicken and resist her progress. There was a cloying scent and a touch of slime against her bare skin, but then they were through. An ancient stone door appeared, shockingly dark and solid in the eldritch light ahead. There was a subdued whirr as both matter and energy locks disengaged. The door opened ponderously, its metre thickness reluctant to swing toward them. The three of them stepped through together and the door closed with unexpected speed, slamming shut behind them.

Darsey jumped, stepping away from Wing, and that was all it took to separate them. They were in a room packed with people hurrying in all directions, and Darsey was swept into their mass, caught up by a crowd of tall figures. She tried to resist the movement, twisting to look back, but she was part of the throng. Large hands gripped her elbows and someone roughly twisted her arm in order to scan her wrist.

"Look-" she began, but her captors seemed satisfied by their com results and ignored the complaints of their merchandise.

One gripped her around the waist and casually tossed her further into the room. She flew over a sea of heads and a distant mutt looked up, turning just in time to catch her. He plucked her from the air with the ease of long practice and carefully checked her energy tag.

"Lot twenty-seven dash thirty-ah... five 'n two."

Darsey was abruptly lifted to mutt shoulder height and passed purposefully down the length of the room. Hurrying mermaridian scarcely paused when they moved her along, tossing her rapidly across the chamber.

"Hey," she protested uselessly while she bounced from hand to hand. "No crowd surfing. Let me do-own." Her last word became a cry when her trip abruptly ended.

She was dropped into a group of waiting workers. She landed with jarring force, but managed to stay on her feet while they gathered around her in instant inspection. They were shorter than the mutt, but still taller than Darsey. She looked around desperately for Wing, but it was impossible to see past the people plucking at her clothes.

"What dross," one examiner stated in tactless appraisal. "We should've had this lot for a week's conditioning. It looks like she's been run wild."

"She was brought in by a kres," another whispered loudly, and the five dressers exchanged shocked glances. "Best check for parasites."

Someone tugging at Darsey's sleeve tittered and she swore loudly in response.

"Ooh," another commented. "Foul in and out." He was rummaging in the remains of her tunic and Darsey realized he was trying to unseal the garment.

"Hey." Darsey's protest was loud enough to make her dressers hesitate and everyone nearby stop, if only briefly. "Don't touch me," she added with glacial clarity, and the figures around her were clearly nonplussed. Darsey pulled the tattered remnants of her clothes close again, with all of the dignity she could muster. However, her moment of control was brief.

A soft but surprisingly strong hand gripped Darsey's upper arm and Min-yung jerked her to his side. She glared up at him, but he was unmoved by her enmity. "Away," he ordered, and flapped a hand at the hovering staff. "You can groom after scan-in. I want something unique in this one's presentation, so get designing."

The dressers assigned to Darsey ducked their heads in acknowledgement and quickly disappeared into the crowd. However, she had no time for relief, because Min-yung dragged her in the opposite direction. She yelped and tried to find her feet, but succeeded only when they stopped. They were close to a wall and there was room to stand without being jostled. Ahead of them was a dark cubicle and Darsey swallowed hard at the sight of it.

"In," Min-yung ordered, and shoved her roughly at the waiting hole.

Darsey twisted in an effort to avoid it, but another push sent her staggering in and she was suddenly falling into glue. The air dragged her in before thickening around her. It curdled so fast that she was held tight before she could do more than half turn to face the way out. She was suddenly trapped, a bug in amber, unable to move. She had a brief, peripheral view of Min-yung before her universe went black.

For a moment Darsey thought she had fainted, before realising she was still aware, but utterly deprived of sensory input. She could see and hear and feel nothing. Not her own breathing, not even her own heartbeat. Whatever was happening to her body, she was completely unaware of it.

Darsey held on hard against sudden nausea. Her greatest horror was to be out of control and the thought of what might be done to her without her consent, or even her knowledge, made her ill. Holding on to herself and her sanity, without any physical sense of self, was harder than she would ever have thought. She searched for calm, but real relief came from another source.

Darsey, you're kay. The thought was faint, but clear and her brain seized it with delight.

Wing?

Ye, you're good, promise. It's just scan-adapt. Relax.

Relax? Get me out, please please please... Darsey's emotions escaped with a surge and, as they did, the world returned. The first person she saw was Nightwing, pressed flat against the front of her cubicle as if he was embracing it. Their eyes met for a single relieved second and he had time to smile before her mind exploded. Her world vanished again, this time in an onslaught of light and sound. She threw her head back, despite the gel holding her, and screamed. Her throat was raw from the force of that cry, but she never heard it. All normal noise was drowned out by a sensory cacophony.

Darsey shook beneath an onslaught of strobing colors and a barrage of sound. Fire exploded along every nerve when her sense of touch was violated too. The pain was so intense she was sure she would die. It grew until she wished she could die. She had no idea how to endure it, and then everything stopped. There was a sudden, complete release. The agony disappeared. Her body tried to sag, but it was still held upright by an invisible field.

Someone else was also being held upright by her scanner. A surprisingly short mermaridian was crushed against its front face, his heels and elbows digging into its apparently gelatinous surface. The back of his head was only a hand span from Darsey's face and his blond hair was forced even closer while she watched. She wondered why the mermaridian's head was at such an awkward angle and then saw the gold-skinned fist jammed under his chin.

"Wing," Darsey croaked, and he looked quickly around his captive's head to check that she was safe. She managed a faint smile and he returned his attention to his prisoner.

"Never do such again," the kres snarled, and ground his charged com against his captive's throat in emphasis. "You hear, tek? Damage my merchandise and I'll take the loss from you."

"Where do you find affront?" Min-yung demanded wide eyed. He moved to stand beside Nightwing and the tek made a small, desperate noise, but his superior ignored him. "There's no cause for fuss, kres. Even deep-scan will leave no permanent damage."

"I'm not convinced."

Min-yung pursed his lips and muttered something about "the stubborn stupidity of non-slaving species". His eyes glinted warningly when he moved to his technician's side. "Get convinced," he suggested, "I've got potential buyers waiting for the results of this scan and no time to call in another senior tek."

"All-well," Wing agreed more calmly. "Such is possible. Let me read this one's mind."

There was a strangled cry from the tek in his grip and the mermaridian started to struggle, reaching out wildly in an effort to grasp Min-yung. "No, please no. Master, Lord, I beg you-"

Min-yung seemed unmoved and his lips pursed in apparent distaste at such a display. "Alright. Ream him as you wish."

"No. P-please, Lord Kres..."

However, Wing ignored the tek's distress as completely as Min-yung. The kres' left frond snaked out to wind around the tek's temples. The hapless subordinate's plea was cut short. He spasmed once against the scanner, but then froze. He was still splayed against it and although his throat was free, his head remained thrown back. Several seconds passed without further sounds or struggles.

Darsey watched the communion with horrified fascination. Min-yung studied it just as closely and could not suppress a shudder at the mental violation.

Their tableau was broken by a harsh laugh from Wing. He abruptly pushed away his shaking captive and the tek tottered to one side before falling to his knees. The kres staggered backwards too, as though equally eager to put distance between them.

"That was nothing like kres rehab," he spat at his victim, presumably in answer to an unspoken protest. "None-such at all. That was sweetness and care." Despite the denial, Wing was trembling, but he tried to hide it by turning angrily on Min-yung. "That was all a trick. His thoughts are lies. They must be."

The auctioneer remained expressionless, but even Darsey could sense his sudden excitement. "This one lied to you?" he demanded. "Is it possible to deceive fronds?"

"You've found some way," Wing accused, and Min-yung sighed, a noisy exhalation of both air and false hope.

"We've done none-such. Why the accusation?"

Wing frowned heavily and turned back to the tek. "This one believes that kres buy at auction. At this auction. His honest thought is that kres buy slaves." His indignation was too great for further words and he swung back to Min-yung, as if daring him to support such an outrageous claim.

The auctioneer yawned instead. His upper lip creased, pulling back from sharp, silver teeth, and he grinned around the yawn. The gesture lasted long enough to convey clear disdain and then he turned away from the angry kres. "Have you enough to catalogue her synaptic responses?" he asked the tek.

His subordinate had managed to find his feet again and croaked "Ye," without hesitation. His hands moved unsteadily through his display and Darsey was infused with a new warmth. It grew as the scanning resumed, but never got worse than a goosebump inducing tingle. She hardly noticed the sensation while she stood suspended, hoping for an answer to Wing's accusation.

"It's not truth," the kres stated flatly, but Min-yung merely raised his eyebrows in unconcerned amusement.

"Think as you wish, I care little, but your faith is foolish. Some of your most-highs have bought here. In truth...'" Min-yung leaned forward delightedly and any protest Wing might have made was stopped by the auctioneer's smug certainty. "In truth, the first of all kres is a most honored client. Yes, that holds no surprise for you. You know such as this..." He gestured to Darsey, "would be of interest to your Arck. Your royals have some tastes... some adventurous tastes that are best served here. Slaves tell no tales and they never refuse."

Wing's expression was stricken, even though he shook his hand in a firm negative. He avoided eye contact with the mermaridian and turned to Darsey instead. She was almost as horrified as he was and her dream of running to the kres vanished, despite his attempt at a more reassuring expression. Clearly the empire's leaders were just as likely to sell or imprison her as anyone else in this insane universe. She tried to look unmoved, but felt her jaw tighten against the viscous air and Wing's lips clamped hard together in response. He stepped close to the scanning cubicle again. So close that its strange surface deformed against him.

"Darsey," he said urgently, but there was a strange hollowness in his voice. "Keep hope."

Hope, her mind demanded incredulously, but, if Nightwing sensed the thought, he made no response. Instead, he turned away and stepped into the ceaseless flow of mermaridian without a backward glance. He slipped between two massive individuals and was gone. Darsey swallowed and closed her eyes, the only two motions left to her. The bustle of the crowd hummed around her and so did the renewed scan.

Waves of energy pulsed gently through her body and sensations of heat and cold washed with them. Darsey started to shiver after one passed, but was instantly hit by an attack of pins and needles. The aggravating sensation disappeared almost immediately and she realized that the tek was still taking Nightwing's threat very seriously.

Min-yung tapped an impatient foot, but his subordinate continued at a careful pace. The strange energies passed through her body at much lower settings and she scarcely felt them. Min-yung cleared his throat warningly and there was a final, frantic burst of sensation before all input vanished.

Darsey's world went blank again and she was alone once more, trapped by sensory deprivation. However, she was prepared this time and had her panic under tight control. She held firmly to her sense of self, wrapping it around her as snugly as if it was her body. She made herself relax and the nothing passed more quickly than she had feared. The outside world returned with a rush of sound and light.

The first thing Darsey saw was Min-yung's face, and her body tried to shudder in response, but remained quite still. It was a dead thing, embalmed in alien energy and still beyond her control. Her peripheral vision caught the tek moving his hands in her direction, but she was unable to look his way. Her eyes were now as frozen as the rest of her. Her senses seemed to be fading as well. The surrounding sounds were still present, but increasingly muted. Even the tek's high-pitched defense of his scan to Min-yung was hard to hear. His voice was distant and bemused.

"It is complete, Master, but still very strange. Her cells are porous, most porous. They've no cell wall, just a membrane that absorbs in odd ways. There are traces of exotic matter. Impossible I know, but I've triple checked and it's there. Exotic matter within her cells-"

Min-yung silenced him with a slash of his com. The tek choked and his words were lost in phlegm.

The auctioneer sniffed with satisfaction. "No need to talk loud of differences we can little explain. Will she swell if it rains? Will she bloat when wet? No? Then all's good. Delete such details and give me full control."

The tek bowed his head and moved out of Darsey's peripheral vision. Min-yung returned to watching her, standing close to the front of her cubicle. She tried to glare back, but even the smallest of motions was stopped by the surrounding glue that still held her close. Her skin grew chilly and then numb when that energy sank into her. The restraint field felt as though it was congealing on her skin, before tightening to slip past her physical defenses. It wrapped her in cotton wool, then slid deeper still, absorbing all input until only faint echoes of her surroundings reached her brain.

Darsey tried to ignore Min-yung's dimly heard order to move forward, but her body obeyed promptly. She stepped from the cubicle and stopped before the mermaridian. "Smile," he ordered confidently, and she did, although inside her mind was screaming.

She was helpless and horrified when her body moved obediently after the mermaridian. She followed him back into the crowd as if in a trance, stepping close behind and dancing through the gaps between workers as if she had been sold many times before. They worked their way back across the chamber and eventually stopped before a close-knit group clustered around a plinth. The circle opened to let them enter and Darsey stepped numbly forward and onto the dais at their centre.

She stood straight and apparently unconcerned while her official dressers started their work. They were quick and practised and irresistible. All Darsey could do was rail at them mentally. Her unheard curses and elaborate threats were her only distraction from the casual invasiveness of her pre-sale preparation. A trio of low-level staff finished stripping and cleansing her while their superiors argued over effective accessories.

"No," one wailed loudly enough to claim Darsey's swaddled attention. "We want erotic and exotic, not Rim whore. Think true-quality. Like this..."

Darsey blanked out his further description with some unlikely speculation about his parentage. She should have been shaking with rage, but her body remained perfectly composed. It bent and turned compliantly to be wrapped in scraps of dark blue silk, held together by glittering golden strands. The lowest swathe of cloth settled snugly around her hips and was gathered on the right by a gold clasp. The silk split from that point to leave her right leg as bare as her back. The expensive dilmah hugged her close, before reaching the ground in ripples that pooled behind her. She turned and smiled while her unresisting limbs accepted bangles and jewels. The final touches were made all too soon, when her hair was swept across to one side and a makeup glamour dusted into place.

Darsey's transformation was complete and her pack of dressers stepped back against the press of the crowd to study the result. She longed to punch every smugly satisfied face in front of her, but instead she obediently twirled to show off her finery. It was the final indignity and pushed her past rage. Her mind was ice cold and completely clear when she spun back to a halt. She found unexpected control in that chill calm and lifted her gaze above her tormentors.

The kres was gone.

Darsey managed to raise a hand to cover her eyes and kept it there. How could she have been so stupid? She should never have trusted him. The guy wasn't her big brother and he certainly wasn't something more. He wasn't even a guy. He was a sulky alien and she had just been dumped. She had no idea why she was so sure of that, but she knew soul deep that Wing wasn't coming back. She had no Plan B and she was all alone.

Panic threatened, making Darsey's stomach clench, until she remembered there was still one person she could rely on. The only person she could rely on. Herself.

# 25

# A Promise Kept

Wing side-stepped, stopped, pivoted, turned and leapt forward without noticing the crowd around him. His feet found a path while his mind floundered. There was one thing he'd always known about saving Darsey, apart from the fact that she'd probably take his head off in the process and that was that he could always walk away. He tried to think of an alternative, but it seemed his body was already in full flight. There was just no way out of here. Not with her.

Wing reached a curved wall and slammed straight into it. He stopped, with his forehead resting against its cool surface while his hands tightened into fists. Drakkit. He wasn't a runner and he didn't leave people behind. He couldn't be a traitor. Not again.

He froze and closed his eyes against unwelcome insight. That was exactly what he was. He'd run from his last love and was about to abandon his new... well, his new primitive, alien friend. He grimaced, and then slammed his fists into the wall on either side of his head.

Ears ringing, Wing stepped back to glower at twin dents in the metal. The crush of people behind him eased, but when he looked around none of the slavers made eye contact. Instead they hurried about their jobs, while also leaving an unusual amount of clear space around the kres. It seemed temper tantrums could be useful.

Wing turned back to the damaged wall and sagged against it. He had to leave Darsey. Right now. He truly had no choice. His mission was a priority that made his yearning to stay irrelevant. If he ignored his mission then his own people would suffer and he would fail the friend who'd raised him. How could he face his mentor after that?

Perhaps that was the answer. Wing straightened, while his mind suddenly soared. Yes. Crest wouldn't like it, but if he could be convinced, it would be the perfect solution.

The kres spun back into the crowd, still careless of the swaying, tree-trunk mutt around him, but sprinting this time. He reached a privacy alcove in less than five seconds. He slid into that shallow indentation and an energy field slammed into place behind him.

"Out-talk," he ordered his com tersely, while his finger tapped in the code to release a speck of exotic matter and open a long distance passage. His mind flew to secure the link, but then long seconds dragged slowly by while Crest verified his ident. Wing started to pace, sweeping from one side of the small space to the other while he waited to be acknowledged.

"Son," a soft voice quavered and Wing spun with a glad cry.

"Crest." He sprang forward as if to hug the hologram and stopped awkwardly. His family retainer smiled and Wing grinned ruefully back. "Are you well?"

"Well enough, my Lord."

Wing paused in surprise. "So formal?"

The white haired kres regarded him solemnly. "Perhaps it's time to recall your proper rank, Lord."

Wing's teeth clamped shut so hard it jarred his jaw and he had to turn away from the temptation of a tart reply. He strode to the edge of the alcove, before swinging back to pace a more careful return. "I've no rank, Crest. Sharpeye made that clear. At best, if I succeed in my mission for the Shadows I can return from exile, but that's all. We needs must accept that, old friend."

Crest nodded as if considering the order, before the lines around his mouth pinched tight. "Never, Lord. You have a standing and a destiny that no false Arck can steal."

Wing almost threw up his arms in disgust, but Crest's mild regard stopped him and he was surprised to find himself smiling instead. "I appreciate your faith in me, though it makes it hard to stay humble."

"Very hard," Crest agreed with a chuckle that made his thin body sway. "Now to business, lad. What news of the t'ssaa? Why do they hunt kres?"

Wing walked away again in an effort to stamp out his impatience. "Unknown, though I've a lead to follow soon. But for now I've a most urgent issue that needs your help."

"I live to be of service."

"Good. There's a girl-"

A wheeze escaped Crest and was followed by a coughing fit. "Excuse, Lord. I'm just pleased to know that you still retain your priorities."

"Most funny, Cressy. She's about to be sold into slavery and I can't stop it."

"A sad fate, but one that many on the Rim share. Your mission takes precedence."

"And I won't be diverted from it, but I need you to buy her."

Crest's eyebrows shot up so high it looked like his hair had reclaimed his forehead. "Buy her? Turn slaver? Are you crazed, boy?"

Wing's hair tugged at the nape of his neck, but he ignored the childish reaction. "Neither crazed nor a boy. Darsey's an alien. A human and these are the co-ordinates of her home world." He paused while his com sent the identifier through. "It's my fault she's here. I broke through to her system, so I also carry the blame for her lost crew. I plan to buy her freedom and I wish you to help. If you won't, then clear this feed."

Wing paused, taut with determination and checked the wrinkles on Crest's face more closely. His mentor was most definitely smiling. "You'll do as I ask?"

"Indeed. Understand, Wing, one day you will rule our people and to do that well you can't always think of yourself. So your concern for this 'who-min' girl pleases me."

Wing leaned back against the wall with a sigh. "You might have said such more quickly."

"And missed a chance to test my most promising pupil? Never. Do you understand now how much it can cost to be selfless?"

"Yes."

"Your entire fortune? So when you do return home it will be without rank or money?"

"At least I'll be home."

"And will you regret it?"

"No," Wing answered without hesitation and realized it was true. Saving Darsey would be his best act for a very long time. "The money's irrelevant. Just see her safe back to her people."

"I'll try my utmost, but there will be buyers in this pit far wealthier than you. Your friend represents a new species and from your eagerness to save her, I guess she's most attractive."

Wing felt a tug against his scalp that might have been his hair stirring again and folded his arms. "She's quite lovely, in an alien way, but that's irrelevant. I'd help her even if I'd never seen her."

"Why?"

"Because she needs it. Enough testing, old one."

Crest chuckled softly, but quickly sobered. "You'll always be tested, Wing. That's part of life. As for this issue, I'll bid as high as I can and add my own funds too, but an exotic beauty could easily build to a record price. Your goal is noble, but may well be thwarted. It's most likely another will claim your friend."

Wing forced a smile, despite the fear tightening his chest. He ignored the pain to stand straight and confident. "You'll bid, you'll win, I'll deliver Darsey to you and you'll see her safe home to her Earth. Don't be concerned. I have a plan."

26

Sold

Darsey's hand was dragged from her eyes by the alien force now controlling her, but her heart lifted. Wing was back. Despite her fear, no her terror, he hadn't left after all. A familiar dark head pushed past the shoulders of the mermaridian circling her, only to stop the moment their eyes met.

Wing stared at Darsey blankly. His expression was gob-smacked and she wished that was literally true. She could happily have thumped him, after the fright he'd given her. Instead she stood there, cursing the stupid smile she was still wearing.

"Relax," Min-yung ordered when he moved to join Wing and Darsey's face grew instantly still. However, Min-yung's smile was untouched while he studied her with clear delight. "Ye, ye, a fine job, people. I've some relief, considering what we had to work with. Effort plus from all." He eyed Darsey with professional satisfaction before looking at Nightwing. "She'll fetch top credit, kres. Your leader will be best pleased."

"I hope such," Wing answered tersely. "What's next?"

Min-yung's gaze had returned to Darsey and he answered vaguely. "The usual, Senior. The scans and adverts are already sent. There's much interest shown and it won't pass long before the buyers demand access. Yes." He looked down at his com, while a stream of data was directed straight to his eyes. "Indeed. Desire is high and growing quick. The prime auctioneer has set sale time." Min-yung paused and his eyes widened around the data stream. "She must be confident. We're to auction in half an hour."

Half an hour, Darsey protested silently, but Wing was already repeating the words incredulously.

"Half an hour? That won't give enough buyers time to register. Greon also wished her to be seen at the market. He thought that would draw more interest-"

"Tsss," Min-yung interrupted angrily. "Greon should know such is not allowed."

Darsey's gaze remained riveted on Wing, who was stony faced.

"Understood," he snapped. "Then I need privacy. I wish to instruct the slave in her future duties."

Min-yung laughed in response. "Absolutely not. If you wanted to instruct her, you should have done so before she was merchandise. It's too late to indulge your appetites now. We've not made her lovely to attract you. Buyer proxies are already arriving and the female's on live feed. I suggest you do your instructing without her. Do you wish a room, so you may be alone?'

The auctioneer's caustic question was cut short when Wing scowled, his eyes darkening ominously.

"Well, mayhap no," Min-Yung amended. "My pardon, Senior, but your ignorance is unsettling. This lot was ours from scan-in time. She became our interim property and stays such until passed through the pit, whether with sale or without."

"Without sale?" Wing asked quickly, but the auctioneer looked back to Darsey with an easy smirk.

"Scant fear of such, Senior. She'll sell well and for huge credit. You should have indulged your farewells sooner."

Wing absorbed the suggestion without expression or comment. He studied the floor silently, ignored by the staff moving past him and by Min-yung, who was staring at Darsey again. She was the only person aware of the kres and she watched him with the intensity of sunlight through a magnifying glass. Don't. Leave. Me.

Wing stared back as if searching for words, but Darsey was forced to turn away. She executed a slow spin while Min-yung's fingers caressed his com. The auctioneer was clearly enthralled by the dance of his puppet and missed a more foreboding flash of movement beside him.

He had no warning before Wing's fingers closed on his wrist, wrapping around his com with unexpected force. He yelped and Darsey heard the auctioneer's bones creak when Wing's combat powered grip tightened.

The surrounding crowd flowed on, apparently oblivious to Min-yung's predicament. A passing mutt paused briefly, but moved away when its master failed to summon it. The auctioneer could only whimper and belatedly struggled to pull back, but Wing held him fast.

"No fun, is it?" the kres asked conversationally. "To be held against your wish."

"N-no," Min-yung managed to agree. "Please-"

"Free Darsey," Wing ordered. "Give us the fifty minutes together. Out here, with all eyes, is fine."

Min-yung made no effort to debate the order or to call for help. Instead, he raised a finger in awkward surrender and reached carefully for his trapped com. His movements were slow and precise, while his attention stayed fixed on the raptor eyes watching him. He tapped his control pad once and then again with a shaking hand.

There was a sudden exclamation from Darsey. It was her first voluntary sound since the scan and her heart contracted when she realized what it meant. Her hands flew to her face and her knees buckled. The plan had failed. Hadn't it?

She looked desperately to Wing and his expression plunged her into a horror as suffocating as any control field. She shook her head, but his face offered sympathy, not hope.

He released his prisoner and stepped gladly toward her, only to be stopped short. The flat of Darsey's hand hit his chest hard. Her palm stopped him in mid-stride, jarring her arm, but she pushed back anyway, forcing him to step awkwardly away. They faced each other at arm's length, while she shook her head again, this time in warning.

"No closer, kres."

"Darse, listen to me-"

"Stop. Just stop. I don't want to hear it, Nightwing. What I need from you right now is the truth. So look me in the eye and tell me I'm not about to be sold."

Wing shifted his weight forward, but didn't step toward her. "I'm sorry. You will go to auction and you will be sold."

Darsey tried to absorb that without reacting and it was surprisingly easy. The shock had sucked her dry, to leave an arid husk that was drained of all emotion.

"Darsey..."

She shook her head once more and bit her lower lip before croaking, "So much for promises."

"No," he protested urgently, and took a step closer. "No. Darse, please keep faith. I've a plan-"

He was interrupted by Min-yung stepping up behind him. The auctioneer's expression was venomous and he spoke loudly, drowning out Nightwing's sad attempt at reassurance.

"My dear, would you like a pre-see of your potential buyers?" He gripped Darsey's elbow firmly, his confidence clearly restored by the two hulking mutt now flanking him.

She made no protest and let him lead her into the crowd, turning away from Nightwing without a backward glance. She hoped with painful intensity that she would never see the kres again.

Unfortunately, that hope was short lived. Nightwing followed them closely and Darsey could hear him at her heels. However, his unwelcome companionship was brief. She was swept easily into the crowd's currents, a secure part of Min-yung's group, but a lone kres was given no such consideration. A trail of indignant cries and pained curses marked his slow progress behind them, but she ignored the fading sounds of his passage to hurry on as fast as she could.

Darsey rapidly approached the heart of the room and a shining wall rose ahead of them. The wall was roughly her height, but stretched ten times as far on either side. It was bland and featureless, a smooth white face that blankly watched the approaching group. Along the length of the wall were rows of couches arranged in a series of curves to face that central screen.

Min-yung stopped before the nearest seat and gestured at its hazy cushions. Darsey steeled herself before settling gingerly onto one, but despite its transparency, it was surprisingly supportive. She started to relax, but then tensed again when Nightwing burst from the throng behind them.

He skidded into the back of her couch, but made no effort to stop, using his momentum instead to flip over that barrier and drop onto the seat beside Darsey. She ignored him and Min-yung pointedly claimed a seat on her far side, as distant from the kres as possible. There was an uncomfortable silence while all three stared blankly at the gleaming wall in front of them.

The auctioneer finally sniffed irritably, apparently accepting that Nightwing was not about to leave, and tapped his com in sharp command. There was an instant response from the apparently solid façade ahead of them.

A light appeared beneath its smooth surface, a faint glow from deep within the wall. That gleam grew quickly, becoming brighter and sharper until it was no longer faint and fuzzy, but dazzling. Darsey had to squint and when she did so, the light exploded. It split with eye-watering intensity. Lightning arced the length of the wall and then shrank to become myriad stars. She gasped in response and gazed in delight at a surface that now resembled a night sky filled with aurora.

Beside Darsey, Min-yung hummed quietly with pleasure. "Ye, ye," he murmured contentedly. "Good numbers. Good numbers for sure and good numbers make a good sale."

More stars appeared and then more again, crowding the wall as Darsey watched entranced. However, her enchantment was short-lived. A laser darted from the wall, streaking past her cheek, to link one of the myriad tiny lights with Min-yung's com. His wrist band trilled in response and the star leapt from the wall, growing as it closed with them to become a globe as large as Darsey's old space helmet. Clearly seen within that sphere was the face of an alien. Darsey had a brief impression of mermaridian features and then the globe shrank back to the wall and another darted forward to replace it.

Buyers, Darsey thought slowly and pressed her numb hands between her thighs. Buyers for me.

Those two globes were simply the first of the crowd and a steady stream of potential owners flowed past. They swirled around Darsey in increasingly rapid parade, each becoming a disembodied head when it left the wall. Most of the passing faces were beautiful, but some had scars or were misshapen and some were old. Not just older than anyone Darsey had seen here, but more elderly than anyone she had ever seen. The combination of stained and sagging skin with expressions twisted by a cold and ancient cynicism was chilling. She shuddered and Min-yung stopped humming to spare her a glance.

"Don't fear, girl, this is excellent. There's interest from all our best clients. Your new owner will have position and you'll be part of a fine household. You must be thrilled. Look, that's Lord Tisareon of the Lucky Strike Brothel. His workers serve only the elite and he always dresses them so fine. Himself too."

Min-yung leaned closer to whisper against Darsey's ear. 'Shame that the age spots no longer bleach free, but they say he's still active-as. You know... where it counts." He leaned back to leer at Darsey before returning to the buyers, apparently oblivious to her disgust.

"There's High Tek LahDaRaysa. Now that's a true surprise. The gentik usually purchase by the organ or cell, not wholesale. They must be most keen, to be after you entire." He sniffed derisively. "Probably won't buy, though. They just want to know who does so they can make offer for an ovary. Still and all it's good for business, eh?"

Min-yung turned to a speechless Darsey for confirmation, but was distracted by a query from his com. He looked back toward the image stream and into a single face that had been plucked from that mass of others to hover alone. "A new buyer? Excellent. A new prime buyer is most good. He'll need cash for this sale, though. It's too late for a full credit sweep. Ah, no problem." The auctioneer flicked a glance at his com and his mouth puckered in delight. "So much money. He must be planning a multi-spend. The prime auctioneer will be most pleased."

Min-yung flicked his com and bowed deeply to the expressionless image before them. "Welcome, most welcome, Tetrarch BackBeak. We have your cash secure, Lord, and embrace our continued association with your great family."

The floating face frowned, its wrinkles twisting into more foreboding lines, but still nodded briefly in attempted courtesy. The image was that of an old kres, his face creased by the passage of centuries until its only defining features were faded gray eyes that studied Darsey intently. She stared back blankly until her would-be buyer disappeared, returning to the queue of customers. She gulped against nausea, but Min-yung was again lost in his happy reverie.

"He's registered as Tetrarck Crest BackBeak from the Royal Court on Kresynt. What a snatch. This could end in promotion – oh, look. It's old Lady Shibelleon, still alive and looking a picture, eh?" He turned to Darsey, who had recovered enough to glare at the passing faces. The stretched features of Lady Shibelleon were still with her when Min-yung beamed and cooed again. "A picture, hmmm?"

"Yeah, a real Dorian Gray," she agreed harshly, but he had already turned back to the buyers.

"Harvester Ishareon from the Arena, of course. Exotic gladiators are always popular plus. And there's Leader Nikareon. He'll want a fertility scan to see if you can carry Beserks. They always need more, because safe pregnancy and labour are so rare. Ah... a-huh... ye... oh, look. A ch't'kar," he crowed, and nodded at an apparently empty globe. "They're most territorial, you know. A camouflage species, and utter loners. He wants a mate with access to new territory. How delightful. What a turn-up. Truly epiphanous."

He looked back to Darsey and finally realized that his elation was unshared. "Luck, what are your thoughts, girl? This is glory. Glory beyond belief. You'll be sold at the highest level and owned by one of the greatest-"

"Yes," Darsey agreed mildly, but her pitying expression silenced the auctioneer. "They probably are the best your sad society can offer, but I think they're pathetic. This isn't a civilisation. It's a collection of parasites. I can't stop you plucking at me like vultures, but I can pity you and I do. God, I do. I pity your selfish hedonism and I pity your ultimate loneliness. You're just animals fighting for scraps. You think you own me, but you don't even understand me. You will never, ever own the only part of me that counts. No one will."

Darsey rose with her final, indignant breath and Min-yung jumped to his feet as well. He was gasping, but rendered silent, whether by shock or anger she wasn't sure. The only thing she knew was that she needed to get away. Right now.

Darsey swept from the couch and Min-Yung seemed to be drawn after her. She walked away from all those eager buyers and he abandoned them too. She strode toward the far end of the chamber, toward the ancient door and he had to scurry to catch her.

The auctioneer belatedly grasped Darsey's arm and she turned on her toes to face him, but he raised his com in triumph while it reasserted control. Numbness returned to wash away her fear and her fury and all the resistance that went with them. Darsey knew that at some level she was still fighting, but her struggle had become internal and the outside world was impossibly distant. She could only hear Min-yung faintly, even though he leaned in close, face to face.

"We can sell you, slave, hold no illusion. We can sell you and we will. To an owner who will control you and force you and break you utterly. Ye, break you down to every part you have and then claim each one. Forget all thoughts of freedom, because your free life is gone. From now. Right now. Watch close, girl, as I rid our house of your wretched rebellion and find a new owner to claim you."

Min-yung raised his com to Darsey's eye level and flicked it with a finger. She staggered and dipped before balance returned and her body straightened. It paused briefly, but then moved on again, turning to the side to glide sedately toward one edge of the room. Each step seemed to take an age, but she was unable to stop them. Inexorably, she approached an abyss that cut across the chamber. The floor disappeared ahead of her and was lost in a darkness that grew steadily closer. She struggled to focus on the apparent drop and abruptly realized that it was an illusion. There was only a single, shallow step that led down to a massive curtain. A wall of black fabric hung from ceiling to floor in front of her.

Darsey was outwardly calm, but inside she was screaming as she closed on that ominous barrier. She vaguely heard Nightwing asking where he should go and being directed through a simple energy field to the vendor's box. Despite her anger at the kres, his loss was a blow and her fear grew. She could sense it clearly now, despite the auctioneer's emotional damping. They reached the curtains, but Darsey abruptly stopped. She made her body hesitate and for a moment she could sense a way through the restraining field. Her mind pushed past that barrier and regained control. She took a single, rapid step back, but her freedom was fleeting.

Min-yung frowned and chewed at his lips in unexpected concern, but his com's power built quickly. It crushed Darsey's rebellion and she watched helplessly as she stepped down to the curtain and darkness filled her view. It destroyed what was left of her senses. Her vision of the world turned black. The only other input was an overpowering scent. The darkness stank of mildew and she was inwardly staggered by that mustiness. The curtains rubbing against her face reeked of age. Min-yung held her poised within their folds, immersed in stench and darkness, as buyers rushed past to claim positions in the pit beyond.

Every star from the wall swirled by in a mass exodus, colliding in wild ricochets when the clients driving them fought for entry. Their proxies filled the air with a buzz of conversation and castigation. Min-yung had clearly caused a sensation by calling an early auction and every buyer had an opinion on such scandalous behaviour. The jockeying stars gradually disappeared beyond the curtain, taking some time to filter through.

Darsey was alone in those dark folds again, but only briefly. She was abruptly driven forward, unable to even flinch. She could hear the murmur of her buyers through the antique curtains, but when the restraint field propelled her past those heavy drapes and into the pit, there was a sudden hush. Min-yung smiled at her and stepped forward too.

Darsey could still see nothing beyond herself. Her eyes seemed as unresponsive as the rest of her kidnapped body. There were no stars any more. She was standing alone, in darkness and utter silence. The only light was a gentle glow that grew slowly and seemed to be coming from her treacherous body.

She tried to look down at herself, but instead her arms rose and her head moved with them. Her hands reached toward an unseen ceiling, despite her best efforts to keep them at her side. One leg kicked high and then swung gracefully to spin Darsey in a tight pirouette. Her mind spun too, but her silent vertigo remained hidden. She twisted and twirled with perfect balance, controlled by the auctioneer.

The physical displacement perfectly matched her sense of mental dislocation. Darsey struggled with a sense of disbelief, unable to accept she was being sold, despite the fact that she was clearly on display to a hidden audience. She could hear murmurs again now, faint stirrings in the dark. Her body slowed to spread its arms in subtle entreaty before straightening. It stood tall and still while feeling flowed back and Darsey unexpectedly found herself in contact with the world again. Her body was no longer distant, with numb, unresponsive limbs. It was hers.

She tried to wiggle her toes and they moved obediently in response. Her fingers quickly followed suit and she realized that she now had the power to shift the fixed smile from her face. She did so abruptly, and her features finally relaxed.

Darsey tried to lift a leg, but this time she failed. The restraint field was still there, but it had expanded to leave her alone beneath her skin. She had limited movement within its cloying force. She sighed and returned her attention to her sale. The auction chamber was no longer dark. It was studded with the bidders' tiny lights and more appeared each second, growing to fill the space around her with a cherry glow. Their soft sheen brought a surreal touch to Darsey's horror while the auctioneer began to woo the crowd. His voice sounded disjointed in the growing clamour and she had to strain to follow the strange phrases.

"Physical flexibility... malleable DNA with a gentik assessment of 9.75, truly 9.75... hyper fertility and two functioning ovaries, both presently cycling..." Min-yung's voice began to settle into a rhythm and Darsey realized it was an eerily familiar patter. He moved from extolling her virtues into exhorting bids from the audience.

The stars surrounding her rustled closer, crowding each other in eager anticipation.

"What do I get, Ladies and Lords? What do I get? An open from any-all? Two hundred thousand? Do I hear two hundred? A very bargain I assure – yes, I get two hundred, two hundred thousand credits. I have two hundred – three hundred now, three hundred thou – five hundred. I'm at five hundred thousand, half a million credits. Do I get more? I have five hundred for the first example of a new species. A fresh species, Lords and Ladies. Look at the sample, gracious bidders. Scan the quality. Don't miss such a specimen – one million. I get one million credits, I'm with one million, I have a million, a million credits, do I get one and a half? A new species, gentles and on the market, I assure. I have one mill- one and a half, one point five million, we're at one – two! Two million credits. Do I get-? Yes, three, three million credits. See the merchandise and see the interest – four, four – and five, five million credits, gentles. Yes, five. I get five for the new species."

Min-yung had to pause and take a gulping breath. "That's right, gentles. A record price for a unique specimen. Five million. I have five million cred – now five and a half, five point five registered. I'm at five and a half million. Do I get six? Six million, yes, six mill- Fifty," Min-yung shrieked the bid and the animated jostling of the stars stopped. There was a sudden silence and everyone was abruptly as still as Darsey.

"Fifty million credits," Min-yung croaked. "I have... yes, I do, I really do. I have fifty, fifty million credits.'" He shook his head wonderingly as pandemonium broke out in the audience. The amount was ridiculous, more than enough to buy and stock a private spaceship. Planets had been sold for less and everyone wanted to discuss the outrageous offer. The noise grew, but Min-yung's professionalism returned and he drove his voice over the commotion.

"Fifty million credits. Do I get more?" He paused, but the hesitation was brief. 'That's it. With fifty million credits, I'm sealing... sealing... sealed. Sealed for fifty million credits." He rolled those final words around his mouth, as if savouring their sweetness, before nodding graciously to the clamouring lights. "Ye, ye. Thanks much. Thanks, gentles all. A wonderful result indeed. Multi-thanks, Ladies and Lords."

Min-yung turned Darsey with com control and carefully steered her back to the curtain. He placed a proprietary arm around her shoulders and they passed through the dark drapes together, to be met by an uproar. Darsey stepped up from the pit into a clamour of congratulations. Sounds of joy pounded her, but she scarcely noticed. She moved woodenly, every step leaden. She couldn't believe she'd just been sold. That she belonged to a head in a goldfish bowl.

The slavers pressed forward so that Darsey was engulfed by large voices and larger bodies. The crowd surrounded her and she tried to brace herself, expecting to be crushed, but she was hardly touched. Despite their jubilation, the Harvesters were careful of her, even respectful. They brushed past her with only the lightest of contact and brief, almost reverential touches.

Darsey spun on a heel, unsure of her direction, and suddenly realized that she was free to move. Completely free. Min-yung's com had released her and the world was abruptly loud, clear and disconcertingly obtrusive. She steadied herself and it took a moment to find her balance. She realized it was not simply the release from control making her unsteady when a mutt hand connected with her shoulder and another brushed her wrist. The gestures were brief, but almost constant. She was surrounded by people touching her and each fleeting contact unbalanced her.

Cold fingers and a colder com felt like a brand against Darsey's neck and someone whispered in her ear, "For Luck."

She shivered, while more mermaridian stroked whatever they could reach and voices only dimly heard through the happy din murmured imprecations to luck. She tried to twist away, but there were always more hands. Their furtive caresses made her skin crawl and the crowd showed no sign of thinning. She was actually relieved when Min-yung firmly gripped her elbow and gestured for a path to be cleared.

"Detailing," he stated pompously. "Detailing to be done. Let's detail this deal, people. Fifty million credits." He trumpeted the result with undiminished delight and the staff screamed in response.

A gap finally appeared in the frenzied crowd and Darsey instantly squeezed into it. She pushed forward, eager to escape, and Min-yung followed in her wake. She still had to struggle past stroking hands and the viewing wall seemed impossibly distant. However, she persevered and was finally free. She took a staggering step into an empty alcove and collapsed onto a support field.

Min-yung burst from the surrounding mass of Harvesters and joined her on a seat. He straightened his clothes carefully and had to rearrange a ripped sleeve, but seemed unperturbed by his staff's boisterous behaviour. "Wonderful," he panted. "Wonderful, wonderful. Happy, happy sale. Sit up well, my dear. We've in-talk from your buyer. Let's see who it is, hmmm?" He turned away from Darsey and assumed an ecstatic smile when an image appeared in the wall before them. It was the elderly kres, and his bleached-gray eyes wrinkled in distaste when he saw Min-yung's expression.

"Lord Tetrarck BackBeak," the auctioneer crowed. "Well met and well bought, My Lord. An excellent purchase and sure to be of much amusement-"

"Indeed. I trust such, Auctioneer. The slave is bought to be a gift. I hope my glorious Arck will be most... appreciative."

Min-yung bowed low in response. "Certain-sure, Lord. A wonderful gift that will bring much pleasure to His Magnificence and much favor to you."

"It had best," the kres agreed in clipped tones. "I need delivery soon-as. I can arrange pick up from an unsettled sector without... legal complications, but I need a secure transport to get her there. I'll pay ten thousand for safe delivery and I mean safe, Auctioneer. Guarantee her untouched and you'll also see a fine bonus."

"Most generous, Lord." Min-yung puckered his lips thoughtfully. "A ship lifting soon-"

"Now," the kres interrupted grimly.

"Of course. Now. Well... the leader who brought your slave in has no need to stay. I can ship her on with him."

"Done, but be most sure he keeps her safe."

Min-yung bowed again. "My word, Lord. I'll hand her to Greon personally. Much thanks for your beneficence-" He broke off when Tetrarck BackBeak disappeared and turned to Darsey, unperturbed by her new owner's abrupt departure. "Wonderful, glorious day," he mused, and actually squeezed Darsey's hand. "Look happy, dear girl, happy. You're going back to the Bandit."

27

Plasma Front

The main link of the Grace seemed to stretch impossibly far in front of Data Senior Pinion. However, it was not the unusual length of the ship that had Clearwing rattled, or her unusually slow progress along it. The conversation of her companion had disturbed her more than any physical challenge. The leader of the BGP clung to her right arm, ancient fingers clamped on her wrist and forearm like talons, while they drifted slowly forward. However, Lady Grace's comments cut even deeper than her nails and Clear's hair writhed in embarrassment at the topic of her conversation.

"Space sake, child," Grace snapped in response. "Stop the hair thrash."

"I can't," Clear protested while the older kres leaned away from her supportive arm in an effort to avoid a writhing strand. Clear tried to calm the darting lock, but her embarrassment was too strong to control. "I truly can't, Lady," she repeated through gritted teeth, and Grace blinked when another blonde wisp escaped its braid to snake across her face.

"Ye gods, girl. I simply said that your leader is in lust with you. Must you react so to the obvious?"

"I clearly lack your eye for the obvious," Clear answered tartly and the old lady chuckled.

"Cheeky chick. I am surprised to see such spirit. And relieved." She batted belatedly at a still-settling strand and frowned again. "If also most uncomfortable. Perhaps I should have let Sparrow escort me to the nest."

"Indeed, Lady," the DS agreed tightly. "I do have other duties."

"None of such importance, I assure you," Grace answered with supreme confidence. "I can offer you information. Obvious information that you will certain-sure need."

"Ah." There was a brief silence while Clear wondered what the old bird could possibly be dangling in front of her. She licked her softening lips without being aware of the gesture. "Information? Obvious information?"

"Indeed. I'd not mention such, but you have shown no eye for the obvious. Especially when it centers on Freefall. Well, this is about your Leader and what he has agreed to."

Clear licked her lips again. "What has Leader FarFlight agreed to?"

Grace sniffed and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Pert asking, young Pinion, most unsubtle, but then diplomacy is clearly not your first gift. Your Leader will enter into marriage. A marriage of the best and most suited type. Princess Goldown will carry his heirs."

"Not Goldown." The words were out before Clear could stop them, starkly honest, and she found herself glaring at Lady Grace, daring the old kres to respond. "Not Goldown," she repeated between gritted teeth, and Grace's fronds writhed in apparent surprise.

"Goldown indeed," she grumped. "Why do you think the Arck let us lift without assassins? And why are you free, child? If you're truly innocent, if you gave no help to the Harvesters, then you were well framed and members of The Thousand are implicated. That blood you spilt left enough DNA to show Clan BackBeak. Convicting you instead would have placed them in the Arck's debt. Despite that, it was their greatest wish. You disHonored their most successful fleet spy and rendered him useless. In response, they're most unpleased. Their killers will hunt you."

"Hunt me?" Clear echoed in disbelief. Anger and grief were joined by confusion as she struggled with the emotional load. "Me?"

Grace leaned closer, eyes hooded while she studied Clear floating beside her. If she felt any pity, she wasn't about to let it sway her. "Ye, chick. Freefall has placed himself between you and this danger. He has bartered what he must and he will soon barter more. He will wed the princess." She stopped to sigh, and her hand shook on Clearwing's arm. "She is even less forgiving than the Arck. She is vindictive, DS, and if she thought her husband ever strayed, he would die." The last word was spat through seamed lips and Clear shivered in response.

"I understand, Lady."

"I hope you do. It would be a tragedy. A total tragedy, to harm the one you love." There was a long moment of silence that Grace allowed to stretch out while the youngster beside her grappled with unexpected grief. Which was truly ridiculous. How could she be crazed enough to care for someone so far above her? Someone important, who could never even notice her, except as a competent officer.

"Come, DS," the old kres said at last. "Let us go and make an appearance."



Free flicked both an eyelid and a thought at his console display to enlarge the hologram hanging before him. It was a view of the shrinking passage point behind them, their entrance to this remote system. It should have been invisible by now, an unremarkable area of space, as dark as its surroundings, but it wasn't. It flickered before Free's eyes, sparking ominously, despite their clean passage.

Over an hour had passed since they entered through it, but it still showed flashes of activity. The intermittent bursts would have gone unnoticed by most leaders as a normal part of using any passage. Nearly all ships triggered random activations after exiting. Not my ship, Freefall thought grimly. Not for such time.

He tipped a frond toward his nav senior and sensed her uneasiness. She was concerned by the continued firing of the passage and he shared her uncertainty. She was the best pilot in the Royal Fleet and a perfect judge of how much exotic matter was needed to open a passage. It was unlike her to use any excess, much less enough to keep a passage intermittently activating for almost an hour.

Still, Free mused, it's a new ship and some slip is reasonable. He sighed softly and checked his scans, but the system was still empty of other ships and there was no sign of any hull breach or exotic matter leak from the Grace. There was no reason for his alarm and he irritably ran a finger under his braided collar. He relaxed at once, making an effort to sit back at his ease for the benefit of his crew. His mind held to its usual façade of confidence when he changed his display to show him the crew still working outside the ship.

There were five of them, a hand of engineers readying a trap for any passing pirates. They floated before his eyes, now distant from the Grace while they rigged a string of empty transport shells, preparing the bait that would slowly circle this system. They seemed to be taking longer than usual and Free watched impatiently as they drifted around the final pod that still needed to be coupled. He took a slow, deep breath, but it failed to calm him. The menace of the kres court still felt too close, despite the dozen passages now separating him from Kresynt.

The system's nearer passage point flashed again and instantly claimed Free's attention. Despite banishing its visual to a small segment of space above his left hand, he found it impossible to ignore. His concern returned with unexpected urgency and that taste of fear pushed him to make a decision. He silently ordered a strike team to stand ready.

His Senior's head rose sharply across the nest when Gull's com relayed news of the order. He frowned at his Leader, but Free was deliberately oblivious while he passed instructions to the responding Strike-senior.

A new hologram appeared in the air before Free, a visual of the strike team now deploying. They shot from an exit pore in the Grace's hull and coasted to a halt not far from the ship. Free's com relayed a silent order to hold position and they hovered in place, gleaming motes in the surrounding darkness. The five team members stayed silent and focused on their strike leader. She floated at the apex of their arrow-shaped formation, waiting patiently for further orders, her outsized com pulsing gently around her forearm.

Free checked her team's deployment with silent satisfaction. High, low, left and right wings were in position and ready to move. All they needed was some sign of danger. He sat straight and stiff in his chair and had to make a conscious effort not to chew his lip. He was increasingly aware of his Senior's scrutiny, but avoided any mental contact.

Free had no reason for a strike activation, at least nothing strong enough to explain to Gull. His uneasiness over his Nav Senior's unusually sloppy passage seemed increasingly silly. The out-ship teks finally signalled that the bait was ready and Freefall acknowledged them with a silent sigh. His fear suddenly smacked of paranoia and he offered Gull an apologetic smile.

However, his Senior had no chance to respond. A flare shot across Free's image of the passage point. It was not the muted spark of a random activation, but the incandescent trail of a ship passaging at speed. It lit up the nest and the alarmed expressions of all the crew. Everyone was frozen, except for the leader.

"Go," Freefall ordered his strike team, and they responded at once. Their coms pulsed before they streaked away into the dark. The Grace shrank behind them as they hurtled toward the passage point and the returning teks. The two groups closed at speed, but were still far apart when the approaching ship fired.

An energy pulse throbbed the entire length of the invader's main strut. It built until the strange ship shook and then released with staggering force.

A wave of plasma leapt across the system. It spread at bewildering speed, flashing outward from the now-inert hulk that had released it. "ExM," Gull rasped, and Free realized that his Senior was right.

The pulse was impregnated with exotic matter and was still moving at post-passage speed. It spread exponentially, exploding from its source to irradiate the entire system.

"That's illegal," Clearwing protested, and Free looked up automatically.

His Data Senior was floating at the edge of the link, holding tight to Lady Grace. The old lady snorted at her naïve comment and Free pulled his attention back to the attack.

The plasma cloud ballooned toward them, but he hesitated, caught between saving his ship and trying to save the crew outside. His agony grew, but, despite it, he threw aside his indecision. The out-ship crew were already dead and Free knew it.

"Close on the plasma front," he ordered hoarsely. "Over-speed. Get us close enough for a mini-jump. DS, search for their exotic matter and tag any trace of a stretched passage. NS, use the tag to jump us past that plasma wave and drop us on top of the bustwing who fired it. Now."

Clear made no effort to reach her console, but Free relaxed when she tapped straight into it from the link instead. She must know exactly what he wanted her to find. Their attacker had fired as soon as it entered the system. The overwhelming blast was meant to surprise them and the exotic matter was included to give it irresistible speed and spread. True-enough, he mused, but that ExM burst was too close to passage point. Part of it must certain-sure have fused to the singularity.

If Clear could find such a strand the Grace would be able to connect with it and jump to safety. If we can find it and use it, just reach it in time before it snaps back...

"Got it, sah," Clear cried and Free dug his nails into the arm of his chair. He opened his mouth, but further orders were unnecessary. The young DS instantly passed the co-ordinates of her passage contact to the Navigation Senior.

The ship groaned deep and made a desperate leap to survive.

It dived into the exploding cloud of plasma, engines screaming while it thrust toward the disintegrating passage that Clear had found. That link between the wave front and the system's singularity finally severed, even as the NS reached for it. Free watched it disappear from his screen and ground his fists against his seat. He'd been too slow. They were all dead.

The ship's protective field started to buckle when energised plasma engulfed it and they disappeared into a boiling arc. There was a roar and something collapsed, but at that moment the NS speared their own exotic matter into the recoiling passage point. It hooked fast and the ship jumped with wrenching speed.

It left normal space while the plasma wave continued on. The Grace passaged past it to emerge unscathed. The ship shot back into the dark and cold of space, a crushed and misshapen diamond that ran on toward its unharmed enemy.

However, that attacker was even more helpless than its prey. It filled the Grace's central nest display, but there was no sign of movement. Free leaned forward, gripping the arms of his chair, and stared at that darkened diamond. It drifted still and silent, left empty by the force it had released.

"Life trace?" he asked, and looked around for his DS.

There was no sign of Clear in the nest or the link. Clear, his mind called before he could control it. His hair stirred against his neck in quick shame. His Data Senior was fine. He could sense her further down the link. Her com pulsed acknowledgment and a moment later she appeared, shooting into the nest at full thrust.

"None, sah," she answered breathlessly, and continued to her console. She grabbed its edge to slide into her seat, calling up full-scan as she did so. "No life at all. There... there are bio-traces, but... they're oxidized. Burnt beyond recognition." Her voice fell until she could hardly be heard. "The whole ship's charred. Hollow-as. Both ship and crew were sacrificed. Sacrificed to make that shot." Her voice faded away and silence claimed the nest.

Free scarcely noticed. He was unaware of his surroundings and blind to his crew. Abruptly, horrifically, all he could sense was death. He could feel it all around him, from his teks, his strike-team, their attackers and, worst of all, inside his own ship. His lips felt numb and his throat dry, but words came automatically anyway. "Report," he ordered distantly, and Clear flinched.

"Sah," she husked, buying time while she switched her scan to their vessel. Numbers appeared in the air before her and she recited them flatly for Freefall.

"Compartments epsila, deltyn and beta are crushed. Present number dead, fifty. Engineering team En-one, fifteen dead, total loss. Strike-team Es-one, five dead, total loss. Boarding teams Bee-one through three, twenty-five dead, total loss. Nest-watch team Command-two, five dead, twenty-five percent loss, fourteen intensive-hurt, in total ninety-five percent capacity loss. Assorted crew, seventeen minor-hurt, one hundred and eleven intensive-hurt."

Clear was finally forced to stop for a shuddering breath and her summary fell to little more than a whisper. "Full shipwide death plus intensive-hurt, equals thirty-five percent. Thirty bodies on board and twenty... not."

Clear's voice faded completely and silence reclaimed the nest. Every crewmember sat stunned and lost. Free closed his eyes and then his mind, to avoid their misery, but the quiet was broken by Gull clearing his throat. The noise was shockingly loud in that grief-stricken room. Every kres sat straighter when their Senior wafted to the centre of the nest. He bumped to a halt against Free's chair and rested a hand lightly on its braided back.

"Many thanks, DS," Gull rasped as he swung to face Clear. "Get to work on fix-figures. I want repair estimates soon-as. Get people moving, Data Senior."

"Ye, sah," she responded, and turned back to her work, her fingers and mind flying through her console display.

Gull continued issuing orders to the rest of the crew, until everyone was busy. The sad silence was replaced by industry and Free abruptly moved.

He pushed from his chair with enough force to hurtle straight across the vast nest toward his quarters. He threw a curt thanks over his shoulder while he shot toward his cabin. "Good work, all and most specially you, Gull. You've nest-charge. I'm off-watch and I'll take no guests. None, Senior."

Free reached his room with the last word and passed his security field with indescribable relief. At least in his quarters he was finally free from scrutiny. However, he had scarcely been reclaimed by gravity before a peremptory whistle sounded from his door, demanding entry.

"Drak." He ignored the summons and buried his face in his hands, driving his fingers back through his hair. He was in no mood to see anyone, but his door whistled again and then its field wavered. A priority pulse pushed straight through it, followed by Lady Grace. She tottered into the room and her com resealed the door behind her. Free looked up in fury when his uninvited guest tapped her way across the unadorned cabin floor.

"I told Gull no guests," he snarled, but the old lady just sniffed.

She halted stiffly and bent toward Freefall, leaning on her cane to stand as close as she could. She invaded his personal space as if his anger was of no concern and then craned her neck to look up and answer his glare with a wicked grin.

"I know. Your poor Senior wasn't sure whether to hit me or force me into stasis. Fortunately for him, he did neither. Perhaps he knew I was here to tell you to stop feeling sorrow for yourself."

"What?"

"Don't look so outraged, boy. Yes, you've lost crew, young crew too, but you didn't kill them."

Free's hands twitched, but he managed to keep them from Grace's scrawny throat. "I know that, Lady. The sorrow I feel is for good people and the lives they lost, not for myself."

"Nonsense." She turned away with an artful flip of her dark skirts, seemingly oblivious to the outraged young leader. He closed his mouth against a curse and folded his arms, holding himself tightly in check while Grace settled on his bed like a weathered vulture.

"Nonsense, Free. Yes, yes, there is truth in what you say, but only a part. You don't just feel sad for the loss of your crew, you feel responsible. The emotion that has its claws in you isn't grief, boy. It's guilt. You should have tried harder, you should have thought faster, you should have known sooner. You should have saved them."

Free couldn't hide a start of recognition at the train of thought and Grace snorted. "Do you think your guilt satisfies the souls that you lost? Does it help them or bring them peace? Does it help your surviving crew or bring you the peace you need to be a leader?"

Free jerked as though shot and the old lady's voice cracked across the darkened room. "Self-indulgence. You are bringing more harm where you should bring help."

He swallowed hard and Grace's voice softened. "Perhaps you failed to do all you could for your crew, but knowing you, I doubt such. If so or not, it's no matter. You must carry the responsibilities you still have. To your crew and to your people, Freefall." She watched him intently, lips puckered, while fresh anger gripped him and he clutched his elbows convulsively. His fingers twitched anyway, but he managed to keep them from her throat.

"If you're here to press your deal for the necessary, be warned. This is certain-sure not the time."

"I know how it hurts to wrong-move," Grace offered more gently. "Truly I do. More than you will ever know."

Free drew a harsh breath, thrown by her sudden sympathy and made no effort to deny the accusation. Instead his shoulders sagged and his fronds slumped with them. His anger was swamped by grief and regret. He sighed and took two strides to the bed, sinking onto his knees at Grace's side. She tutted once at the strength of his sorrow, but her hand rose to touch his hair. She patted the disconsolate young leader twice and then awkwardly brushed a dark lock back from his forehead.

"Mistakes get made, Free." She gulped and her voice caught. "That's a guarantee in every life."

He looked up miserably and her hand fell away from its attempt at comfort. "I hesitated," he whispered. "I just... stopped."

"I was in-link. I saw no pause, Leader."

He pushed away from her, rocking back on his heels. "Don't call me such. I'm no such. Thirty more people are dead because I failed to lead sooner. They were on my ship, not lost out-ship like the others, but they died too. They're gone, because I stopped."

"How long?" Grace demanded harshly. "How long did you wait?"

Free blanched, but his jaw set as he forced himself to remember. "At least four...no, truly, a full five seconds. I was ice. Just watching that wave grow..." He had to halt, disconsolate again.

"Ah," Grace breathed softly. "Five seconds, eh? Full five seconds in the instant it happened. And why was that?"

Free opened his mouth to reply, but Grace answered her own question. "Because you took time to assess your options. You needed a moment to decide what hope there was. You wouldn't just abandon your out-walk crew."

"Yes," he gulped, but then shook a hand in angry denial. "No. I was too slow. I should have chosen more-quick. Those twenty were already dead, but my hesitation killed thirty more."

Grace hissed and her cane struck the floor. "Such pride," she rasped while her fronds snapped forward in reproach. "To hold your acts the sole cause of life or death. The pirates who attacked us killed your crew, boy. That life-weight lies with them. You did well to save the rest of us. You did," she insisted in response to his fronds' denial. "That attack was set for a total kill, but you were too quick."

Free frowned, distracted by Grace's interpretation of his failure, and she dipped her head toward his. One of her thin fronds flew forward with surprising speed to connect with one of his. He froze at the intimate contact and her words dropped into his head. I swear no other in all-fleet could have acted so fast. None-such.

Free pulled his frond back in stiff affront, but not before Grace sensed the single word that was still crowding his mind. "Ah." She straightened carefully and her lips pursed like a crinkled, volcanic peak. "Nightwing."

Free looked away, but his mind underlined his assessment. Wing would've moved faster.

"Truly," Grace agreed without hesitation. "He would have swung for passage more-quick."

Free looked up sharply and the old lady barked in amusement at his sense of hurt.

"Did you think I'd lie, boy? Wing would have reacted in the instant and we both know it. But Nightwing is exceptional. It's his true gift, the one thing he really does have over you. He can choose a path in the time it takes others just to register danger. And he all-times chooses right, even with no time for thought. I've never seen such before and I've seen much, Free. Enough to be certain-sure you acted near as fast as could be. Don't guilt because you found it hard to abandon your crew. To be a true leader, compassion is needed. That, and your conscience, will hold you to duties more easily ignored."

Grace paused with a meaningful look and Free's heart sank.

"Our deal," he sighed, and the opening was enough for her to push on.

"Ye, the deal where all win. Let me finalise with the Arck and the hunt will stop. He can rein in the BackBeaks if we make it worthwhile for him."

Free's brow furrowed in surprise at the mental emphasis to Grace's request. "You mean more than our deal," he realized, and a seamed finger twitched in agreement.

"Certain-sure. The Arck is near five hundred years old. With each day, the Safe Successioners gain power at his expense. His rule grows increasingly unsure with no clear heir. He refuses to name Goldown, but he would be willing to favor her children."

Free slapped his thigh impatiently. "As you said. So offer to get the princess with chick."

The old lady hissed in apparent annoyance at his stupidity. "She needs more than one babe. She needs a husband. A husband the Successioners will accept."

Free tried to interrupt, but she forced words over his protest. "There must be a marriage. A union that offers commitment and stability. The Arck requires it and so do our people. There's no need to bed her, Free. No talk of such. Your life remains your own, but your name must serve the empire. We need you. The kres people need you."

Grace's plea rang around the cabin and then her mouth snapped shut. She had been leaning forward, holding Free's gaze, but she abruptly sat back and clasped her hands in her lap. Her fronds twitched, but only to settle meekly against the folds of her neck. The tip of one rose to idly brush the amber jewel at her throat, and she made no more effort to influence Free.

He suddenly stood and turned away, pacing angrily across the room, before stopping by an illusory window and staring into the darkness it showed. He wanted to scream and rail at the universe, but had always hated gestures of self-pity.

Instead, he made a decision, looking back over his shoulder at Grace.

"Such a union would free my crew from this hunt? All of them?"

"Ye," the head of the BGP agreed simply.

Free hesitated again, but only briefly. His hands abruptly fell, to hang limp and empty at his sides. The emotions he sent to Grace were grim, but resolved. "Marry the royal gat? Ye, why the hail not?"

Grace's only response was a brief lowering of her lids to show agreement. If she felt joy or triumph she kept them locked tight within her mind. She rose stiffly from the bed, leaning on her cane, and managed to rustle as close to upright as her body now came. "I'll contact the Arck for you," she offered, and Free snorted with bitter humour.

"Not for me," he pointed out. "For you. And not yet. We've a trap to re-set. I'll not disHonor my lost crew. We stay and we stay silent until the mission they died for is done. No coms 'til we make a pirate kill."

28

Ships That Pass in the Night

Darsey opened her eyes to a familiar view of tousled dark hair and made no effort to stifle a curse. Waking this close to Nightwing had never been more unwelcome. His eyelids flickered to show brief crescents of gold, but before she could frown in response their amber light disappeared. His eyes vanished, lost in a white glare.

Darsey stiffened and her own eyes opened fully to look past the last images from her sleep. Her dreams disappeared and she was alone, in the cell that Greon had delightedly escorted her to when she was returned to the Bandit. She was staring at a blank, white wall and her pulse slowed when she realized she would never wake beside Nightwing again. Instead she was held in full view of the entire crew. Her cell was the only occupied chamber on the inner wall of the nest, where prisoners could be easily watched and taunted.

Darsey shut her eyes once more, avoiding the bleak sight of that freshly lit wall. She ignored the signal to start a new day and ignored the crew beginning their shift behind her. She put particular effort into ignoring Nightwing, who should be settling into his usual seat. She hoped that he noticed and that it hurt, before realising she was being foolish. The creep didn't give a damn about her. And she was equally oblivious to him. He could crash and burn, while she toasted marshmallows over the wreckage.



Wing tried very hard to ignore Darsey, but it was proving impossible. Her brightly lit cell was straight across the nest from his station and she was still trying to sleep, in total view of the mainshift crew. He chewed his lips, before turning away. He had to admit that he was irritable and increasingly moody, before he could force himself to look back to his work. He sat straight and tense in his nest seat, but the stream of data directed to his eyes vanished. It was replaced by a blade-stiff back, half covered in soft waves of red hair. Was she really still sleeping, or much worse, trapped in a listless depression?

"Nightwing!" Leader Greon's curt tone penetrated his abstraction. "Do something about it."

"What, sah?" asked Wing, cursing his inattention, and his Leader snarled, showing a sharp canine.

"I've seen that look in kres before. You've met the female you wish to breed to, so do something about it. Do the marriage, or mating, or whatever your damned monogamous race does. I won't have you distracted by this. Understood?"

"Understood, sah," Wing answered crisply, relieved that Greon had mistaken the cause of his vagueness.

"Good. Now, while I'm privileged to have your attention, a freighter convoy awaits us." He paused in response to Wing's blank look. "Did you see any-all of what you just scanned? Most especially that automated convoy of kres riches? Hmmm? Lay in a course and make it fast. I want to snatch them all in a single pass and loop straight for point. This is too in-system for my comfort."

Wing swung back to his console and considered the unexpected theft with growing excitement. The logistics of successfully snagging even one freighter at speed were daunting and not many nav seniors could have handled it. The control needed to tractor an entire convoy would demand his full concentration. Perfect. Darsey is out of my thoughts from now-

Wing abruptly realized that he was again staring at her cell and made another effort to focus his attention. A rising vector at point seven warp, mmm... He belatedly settled to his task, making the train of automated freighters leap closer with startling speed.

"Concentrate," snarled Greon, but the word and the blow accompanying it were for Hazleean, who had been newly promoted to Data Senior. She whimpered and the leader cursed half-mutt mermaridian in scathing terms. She threw Wing a panicked look, but for once he was too busy to distract the leader. He just hoped she'd manage to remember Jileea's briefing for inner system defense scans.

"Sah," Wing finally interrupted and the DS hiccupped with relief when Greon turned away. "Snatch in ten seconds. Everyone sharp. I want pick-up and stasis on my mark, with a full power burn at these settings. Coming in... nice and steady. It's looking well. Here we go, people. Three, two, one, now.'

His hands and mind flew through the images his console projected and the ship responded smoothly. The Bandit burned along the length of the convoy frighteningly fast and so close that even at its suicidal speed the tractor field could envelop the line of merchant haulers.

The DS whimpered again, her eyes locked to the projected ships that filled the weightless globe and seemed to stream through it. Those images dwarfed the crew and dominated the nest. A series of silver cylinders flashed past, twisting wildly in the tractor field.

They hooked the last ship and Hazleean screamed when Wing's course swung the freighters wide beneath them and drove every console into the red. That warning glare lit the nest while the Bandit bucked so hard they could feel it despite the damping, and its metallic shrieks drowned Hazleean's scream. A tremor ran through the hull to shake everyone aboard like dolls. They flopped helplessly until the strain activated the ship's restraint fields.

The forces on the crew were instantly distanced, while feather-down invisibly coated every seat. Wing relaxed his muscles and whooped with delight. The engines howled, but everything held. Stars wheeled around them in exactly the pattern he had programmed. The Bandit had seized its prey in a single pass and hardly paused while doing it.

Wing slipped deeper into his seat when its protective field disappeared and a post-adrenaline slump claimed him. The engine grew quieter and the ship returned to nearly silent running, but Greon's usual manic chuckle was overlaid by Hazleean's thin wail.

The Leader sighed and pushed himself from his chair once the automatic restraints eased. A casual kick of his foot floated him across the nest to his new Data Senior. He watched Hazleean scream with his head on one side, as though bemused by the sight. The novelty palled and he slapped her with brutal force. She stopped shrieking instantly. The sound vanished as though her throat had been cut. She stared at Greon blankly, but he simply hummed and nodded once before turning back to his Senior.

Wing held himself expressionless, but his jaw clenched, along with every muscle of his body, in an effort to stay silent and still.

"Much better," Greon observed brightly in the sudden quiet. "Decent job, Nightwing. Remind me not to hit you for a time. I'm sure I'll be tempted soon-"

"Ship," yelled Wing, and Greon spun to the scan.

"Kres," the Leader gasped, and ground his teeth. "It's a drakking fleet trap. Dump the freighters, they're useless."

However, Wing had already released the decoys and the Bandit leapt forward under full power. Greon leaned over his DS and spat words in her face. "What is it?"

Hazleean struggled to analyse her scan and looked up at him helplessly. "Big?"

The Leader's hand flicked to point his com at Jileea's hapless replacement. The hum of blast function charging carried clearly across the nest and the quivering girl looked desperately to her Senior for help.

"Sah!"

Greon's head snapped around at Wing's imperative cry.

"Orders, sah? It's closing fast – true fast, over point eight. It looks like an old Noble class ship, but they were never that quick. I'm not certain-sure what it is, but scans show us out-powered and out-gunned."

Greon lowered his com and threw himself back into his chair. He chewed his lip until purple showed and glared at the alarming data in the air around them.

"It's too late to reverse and go for back-point. No," Greon finally decided, "we're committed now. We'll have to run deeper into kres territory and risk meeting more of their ships. Push hard for point, Nightwing, and I mean super hard. Let's make that passage. Power plus to propulsion. Plot it as close as we can take, Senior."

Wing punched co-ordinates and the Bandit accelerated so fast that inertia damping was overwhelmed. Several gees loaded the crew and only their seat fields saved them from injury. Wing checked the pursuit and frowned. "It likely won't be enough, sah. We're seriously mismatched here."

"Suggestions?"

Wing watched his projection of their pursuer and extrapolated the fleet ship's course. He frowned again and then smiled. Despite its speed, the other ship was too far away to be sure of catching them before they made passage. Although it seemed to be chasing them, its course was not an intercept one. Instead, it was subtly angling toward a gas giant that lay between it and point.

Wing's smile widened when he recognised the manoeuvre. He realized the kres leader was planning to slingshot from an orbit around the planet to gain added acceleration. The extra speed would enable him to pass his prey and engage them at passage. Good move, my friend, and most familiar.

"I've got a plan, sah, and if I've read the other leader correct, it should work. He's going to catch us, but he'll have to commit to an orbit and once he does that we can change our figures. He's going around the far side of X-127.3 and when he does we start braking. Hard. He'll slingshot out using gravity to pick up speed. If we slow down, he'll shoot past out of range. No matter how large an un-lit matter braking field he deploys, he's still certain-sure to overshoot. If we brake with all we have, he'll travel past point before we come into range. He'll scream by and then we can nip in behind him, to make passage before he swings back."

Greon looked unconvinced. "When he sees he's going to miss us, he'll take passage himself and wait for us at far end."

"With the speed he'll gain, he won't be able to make passage. No, he'll swing back and pursue. Once we reach the far end, I know how to destroy him. I've worked this sector times-past, but we have to get through that passage first. What thoughts, sah?"

Greon stuck out his thick lower lip and his silver eyes glinted uncertainly. "I don't like it. How do you know he'll commit to this orbit? We could brake our way into a longer fight than needed. If we slow down and he fails to add speed, our ruse will turn to suicide."

"He'll commit, sah," Wing answered urgently. "That's his course, that's his plan and it's a good one. The course deviation is subtle and most pirates would never pick it. The kres leader knows that. He pretends to chase and we run, hoping for escape. Then the fleet ship disappears, feeding that hope, so we feel safe-as. We just keep pushing for escape, but then our kres reappear, blasting out of orbit and crippling us when they scream past. After that they can swing back to make a kill at leisure."

Greon gave him an odd look. "You seem most sure of this."

Wing held his face very still, hiding frustration, but much more importantly, his friendship with the enemy leader. "It's logical, sah, and truly our only hope."

Greon chewed his lip again and considered his options. He frowned at his Senior, but Wing returned the look calmly. "If we get through to the next system, you can destroy the kres?"

"Certain-sure."

"A Noble class ship? They were the best in their day and still far outclass this tub. Yet you're confident we can destroy them, Senior?"

"So I swear, sah."

Greon lifted a finger curtly. "All right, do such."

"Yes!" Wing swung back to his console. His mind and hands danced through star charts, laying vector lines and connecting bright images with strips of light. He positioned the two ships within a system display and ran his predictions. "They'll be committed to orbit in forty-seven seconds. I want all power to our braking thrust and all unlit matter deployed exactly then." Wing felt sweat on his brow, but ignored it. He leaned back with an appearance of unconcern and grinned at the other nest crew. "Anyone know a good joke that lasts about forty seconds?"

Several of the crew laughed and Greon grunted, but his eyes were cold as he watched his Senior. Wing felt the enmity in that gaze and had to hide a shudder. He turned back to his hologram and immersed himself in it. The fleet ship was accelerating hard, but edging further from the Bandit's course.

"It looks good, sah. They're going full power and on course for that gas giant. Their options window is closing... closing... gone. They're committed to orbit. Brake now."

Wing kept his voice deceptively calm. He knew that the other leader was very good indeed and would start braking as soon as he realized what the Bandit was doing. Without fully knowing the other ship's capabilities, it was impossible to predict if it would be out of range by the time they reached passage point. He wondered whether Darsey was scared, but there was no time to spare a reassuring look.

"Well, Senior?"

"Ah... yes, sah. They're coming around the planet now and they're scorching. Their braking field's out, but they've got too much inertia to slow quickly. They're closer to point than us now. They're starting to slow, but it's not enough. They've cleared point! They've overshot!"

A spontaneous cheer erupted from the crew and even Greon smiled. The tension that had gripped the nest as firmly as a restraint field vanished. The officer posted at tactical leaned across to slap Wing's back and the Bandit's Senior laughed, shrugging a hand in response.

A strangled cry from the weeping DS startled them all. "They're firing!" Hazleean shrieked.

Every eye locked on her projection and they watched the highlighted path of a missile blazing toward them. "Ignore it," growled Greon. "He's just hoping to get lucky."

Their Leader's mouth had just closed when the missile struck. It detonated beyond the hull, but the concussion was enough to overwhelm inertia damping and the energy released ripped through the defensive field. A huge hand seemed to seize the ship and shake it. The nest went black and then ruptured.

Wing struggled to focus on his fluctuating display, but the darkness seemed to be spreading inside his head. He struggled against his restraints, struggled to lift a hand, struggled for air... for breath... for thought... and slumped senseless, as helpless as the rest of the crew. Vital oxygen spiralled into darkness and the ship's warm breath formed a frosty trail that twisted through space behind it.

29

Kill Them All

Nightwing groaned and tasted blood. His first conscious breath turned to a rasping cough, but he ignored it. He forced his eyes to focus and his brain to interpret the data floating before him. The projections sparked and flashed erratically, but their information could still be read. The Bandit was braking and remained online for passage. His eyes flicked to the point position and he cursed mentally.

It was coming fast and he had only minimal time to apply the requisite tension to open a passage. His shaking finger moved between the projected ship's systems to initiate entry. The power logo rippled then cracked and a shock seared his hand. He took a shaky breath that hurt his throat before trying the connection again. A rasping voice briefly distracted him.

"If you fail to make passage, I'll gut you, Nightwing."

Wing continued the familiar movements and his voice was calm. "If I fail to make passage, we're all dead."

"I can still gut you first," Greon promised, but Wing was no longer listening.

He tried for the third time to release exotic matter, targeting the point that would force the passage open. Another crackling surge stabbed his arm, but this time he persisted. He felt sweat on his upper lip, while his pulse surged, but his effort was rewarded.

A surge of exotic matter speared from the Bandit's split nose to impale the passage, and Wing tried to relax. His hands were shaking and he needed them to be still. Light flared across the still-sealed singularity and streamed into space as the Bandit hurtled closer. The most delicate part of adjusting the passage was holding it open long enough for the ship to pass through, and Wing knew he would need all of his skill to maintain its integrity with a damaged vessel. He looked down at his trembling hands and grimaced. There was no more time.

Greon barked something that he ignored and the ship swept head-on into the singularity. Wing reached into his display without further hesitation. The familiar movements steadied his hands and he showed no doubt or indecision. He released the surge of power that split time and space. His mind and hands flew to make subtle adjustments and the black wall ahead exploded in a rainbow shower.

The ship drove through the coruscating colors to dive into a bright whirlpool, while Wing struggled to hold that pulsing passage away from its battered hull. His mind called up another display that was projected only to his left eye as they exited the system.

He watched the kres ship turn hard to sweep around behind them. Its quick response would leave little time to conceal his trap at the other end. Perhaps too little.

Wing's attention shifted back to the point display, where space still blossomed with color. The brilliant passage closed around them and tightened until the Bandit's containment field glowed red. That struggling shield was all that stood between the ruptured nest and the twisted space of a singularity.

Wing made a last supreme effort to hold the ship together with mind and hands while he forced it forward. The protective field shrank and pulsed higher in the spectrum, until it could barely be seen. Its ultraviolet sheen bulged inward beneath the mass of the passage and Wing stared at a stretched singularity only centimetres from his face. He watched the oil-on-water rainbows of an open passage with fascination and tensed, waiting for the field's final collapse. However, the misshapen sleeve of energy held.

The Bandit shot from the passage and into darkness, expelled by an energy wave when the singularity squeezed shut and its rainbow throat collapsed. The ship hit the cold of deep space and its containment field regained transparency and shape. The Bandit's hull cooled too and warning logos dimmed as it drifted into a different part of the galaxy.

"Yes," Wing breathed, and jerked convulsively when a heavy hand clutched his shoulder.

Greon dragged himself across to hover at his Senior's station. They watched silently as the streamers of light dispersed, fading to the darkness of a new system. The Bandit moved on sedately and Wing groaned with relief. Dying was never desirable, but being killed by his best friend's ship would add a most unpleasant twist.

"Not bad," Greon grunted, and pushed off against Wing to return to his seat. "One day you'll fail me and I'll get to kill you, but not today." He smiled at Wing, but that manic expression did nothing to reassure his Senior. "Now, what's the total of your plan? Tell me... how do we destroy them?"

30

Kill Them All Too

The Grace leapt from passage and Free watched closely while Clear scanned the new system at speed. Her display was empty of danger-tags and he relaxed.

"An ordinary binary system, sah. Seven planets, a dozen comets and our pirate limping for cover in a stellar cloud. He's trying to make another point by edge-creeping around the system. I can follow his trail in, but I've lost his exact position. There's too much interference."

"Not a problem." Free smiled briefly, trying hard not to show too many teeth. Kres officers weren't supposed to enjoy battle, not even victory. He glanced at his Tactical Senior. "Drop a mine in case he tries to flee back, TS. Use ten percent of ship's power for it. Yes, Gull, I know we won't regain that in time for this fight, but I want to block all retreat."

"Of course, sah" his Senior growled, hovering behind tactical. "I remember the Arck's order to kill all pirates. Mine deployed."

"Good. Set a course for far point, NS, and make it quick. Take us straight through system and into range of far passage. I want to beat our pirate there, understood?"

"Yessah." The officer turned to her display and traced their course with a finger, while mentally pulling full power to the engines.

The Grace leapt forward and the twin suns grew rapidly larger, but Free felt sudden fear. Not his own, but one of the crew's. His fronds lifted and instantly found the source. Clear. He dropped his chair closer in time to see her shiver. "DS?"

She dropped her gaze and tapped her mouth nervously, but then looked up decisively. "Sah, something's wrong."

"What?"

"I don't know. I just feel something's wrong."

Free was annoyed, but turned to the Nav Senior without hesitation. "Slow to point six. They still won't outrun us. DS, I suggest you study your display until you can place your unease. You've noted something and I want to know exactly what."

"Yessah," Clear stared at her projected data while Free started at her. She seemed calm enough and only slight creases in her forehead hinted at any concern. She suddenly leaned forward in a wave of blonde hair. "It's the orbits! Leader, the orbits are wrong for a binary system. They're all misplaced, even the stars. Something else is affecting this system and it's big. Super big. Whatever it is, it should show up. We should be able to see it and it should be right ahead of us."

Free was hit by a surge of alarm. "Gods, it's camouflaged. The pirate dropped a camouflage field."

"But we could see him clear enough," Gull protested, and Free shook his finger.

"No," Clear explained before he could. "He didn't try to stay hid himself. He had to run and knew we'd track him. He left a field generator to hide something else."

"What?" Free demanded urgently.

Clear swung back to her console and her braided hair floated around her, but before she could act her data stream vanished. It briefly projected new figures and then defaulted back to the old set as they neared the limits of the deception field. The ship sped on to push past the camouflage, and she gasped when she finally saw what was really there.

"Singularity plus!" Clear husked.

"Drak," the Nav Senior swore in panic and even Gull paled. He swung to look at Free, but there was no time to do more than exchange horror.

The Leader dropped his chair and spun to face navigation, but before he could speak the Communication Senior cried out.

"In-talk, sah, with kres priority codes."

Free looked up and finally failed to hide his shock when a projected message appeared in front of him. The crew forgot their horror too, amid a buzz of speculation, as an eerily familiar face filled the nest. The pirate hailing them was not only kres, but a kres who looked disturbingly like their Leader. He offered a sardonic smile and a mocking bow, while Gull spat a curse of recognition.

"Reputation precedes me," the pirate observed, and grinned insolently at the fleet senior.

Gull started to retort, but Free raised a hand to silence him. The renegade kres bowed again, but this time the action seemed sincere.

"Thank you. We've no time to trade insults. That's a magnitude ten black hole and yes, you're running straight in."

Free's breath escaped as an angry hiss, but the pirate simply laughed.

"No need for panic, Leader. You're a thousand megs from the final-horizon. Even if things get bumpy from the tidal forces, you won't disappear for all-times. At least not for a few seconds more."

A console flared red and warning lights appeared in displays around the nest. The ship kicked hard while its carbon hull groaned. "Relax," the projected kres advised. "It's a rotating singularity and your ship will survive if you flow with that movement. Even if you're damaged, the fleet will certain-sure find you. You're lit up like a Migration Parade."

The ship shuddered and its navigation console displayed reference points that abruptly wheeled across the nest.

"You're in the ergosphere," Wing pointed out, "being pushed away from us. The lateral forces are impossible to resist, so just blast with them and you'll burn free before the final-horizon traps you. I'm projecting a course and I suggest you act on it... now." He grinned even more widely to hide the faintest tilt of his head, a brief gesture of respect that only one member of the Grace's crew expected. Free gave a brusque nod in return, but, even before his cousin's projection disappeared, he turned his attention to navigation instead.

"Do it!" he ordered tersely. "Quick-as!"

His NS diverted Wing's course from analysis and ran it without further hesitation. Her display wheeled above her once more when the ship heeled over and joined its power to the irresistible thrust of a rotating black hole. The fullerene hull vibrated and Clear shook with it.

"It's all well," Free said quietly. "The course is secured and plotted. This black hole is going to spit us out. Nothing gives a case of galactic indigestion like the Grace. You'll be able to tell your children you blasted in and out of black holes and rode the dark tide."

Free smiled confidently, although his eyes flicked sideways to check the stress of the tidal forces and their effect on his ship. It screeched in protest, but he relaxed and his smile became genuine. Their course was so tight it would have been useless with any delay, but it was enough to fling the Grace free. He glanced up at Clear again and she gave him a warm smile, although her eyes were huge in a pale face.

"Nice job," Free mouthed, and the glitter returned to her cheeks. He looked away with a frown and paused to gather his thoughts. "I'll be at rest. Collect our mine and take us back through passage. We'll move on for a trap reset." He raised a hand to peremptorily stop a comment from his Nav Senior. "I can see the hull damage. Limp back to passage and keep us intact."

Free pushed from his seat with such force that he hurtled straight across the nest. He had a glimpse of startled faces gaping at him from every angle before he shot through his door field. He entered his quarters at speed and gravity reclaimed him roughly. He landed with jarring force.

"Drak. What a drakking day." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes while he searched for calm. The imitation sunlight that now fell on his face from a fake window did nothing to improve his mood. He was still far from relaxed when the door whistled softly. "Come," he ordered and it was Gull who entered. Free nodded, but a smile was beyond him. "Yes?"

"Sah," the Senior began, and then hesitated. "This is awkward-as."

"Say it, or not, but find your mind."

"Yessah. I'm surprised you won't chase the bustwing who tried to feed us to a singularity. This ship can still match his. Why are we letting him go? It's not like you to quit."

"Maybe not," Free answered softly, "but that's my decision."

"Of course, sah. Whatever you say, that's what happens. I was just concerned that it was uncharacteristic. I thought you might be... distracted."

"Distracted by what?"

"By DS Pinion. With regard, sah."

Free took a choking breath, but managed to turn away without swearing. The temptation to throw his Senior from the room was incredibly strong and he had to struggle to resist it. Instead, he started to change, stripping off his tunic with precise, controlled motions. However, Gull ignored his leader's tension and strolled to a couch beneath the illusory window to settle comfortably into it.

"That's absurd," Free finally protested, bunching his tunic in his fists without realising he was crumpling the garment instead of storing it. "She's one of my officers and I treat all my subordinates professionally."

"Ye, you do," Gull agreed, "but I think that's the problem. You're trying to ignore Pinion and treat her as a casual attraction, but she's clearly much more."

Free turned away without answering and belatedly threw his creased tunic into compression.

"I thought so," Gull continued smugly, as if he thought Free had admitted something. 'You're distracted-as. In my opinion, you're well past the final-horizon of attraction to young Clearwing.'" He bared his teeth in a harsh grin, but his Leader was now methodically storing his boots and refused to look around.

"That's ridiculous," Free said to the wall. "More-on-more, it's impossible. I've made other commitments." He turned to face his Senior and his mind was adamant. "Leave this, Gull.'

His officer winced at the mental snap, but squared his shoulders and returned to his first concern. "All right, sah, but what of the other? Would you like to reconsider chasing that pirate?"

"Pirate?" asked Free, and dragged his mind back to Wing. "Oh, the pirate. I said no. Let him go."

"Sah," Gull began, but then hesitated, as if again unsure how to proceed. "He's no longer one of us. He gave that away years past."

The Leader grimaced and some of the sadness he'd been hiding from returned. "I mean it, Gull. Although he's a pirate now and I hate how he lives, he had reason for his acts. And he's still my cousin. As far as I'm concerned, that's for all-times."

Gull's hand slashed once in denial before reaching out to his leader in desperate appeal. "I beg you to reconsider. If you catch Nightwing, you can barter him for favor again. For all of us. Please, Lord, I beg you. It's vital that you leave behind such childish loyalties. He brought you disHonor you never deserved and now brings you yet more danger-"

"Stop."

Gull's tirade seemed to stick in his throat and he blanched at the fury in his Leader's voice. He tried again to answer, but faltered when Free raised a warning palm.

"Stop mid-thrust, because I won't hear more. I helped Wing of my own volition and I will never regret it. Never, Gull. Do you frond that? I could be stuck guano deep as a no-resources Rim leader for the rest of my career and still have no regret. I don't give a tip if it's treason, but on this ship my cousin is not an outcast and not disHonored. If you wish to disagree, I can release you to serve another leader. One more in favor with the Arck."

Free paused, but his fronds pummelled his Senior with a fierce demand to accept his terms. Gull stood still for some time, before bowing deep and slow. "Understood, sah. I've no wish to ship with any lord other than you and I regret my earlier words... it's just..."

"Yes?" Free prompted although his hands curled into fists.

"It's just... I never knew Nightwing, but I do know you. Know you very well, Free, and I care what happens to you. Your fate matters. To all of us, sah. It matters much."

"Oh." Freefall felt his familiar tension ease and the hair hidden against his neck stirred. He was moved by his Senior's loyalty and admitted, at least to himself, that he was overly sensitive to any criticism of his cousin or their past. "I'm sorry, Gull. You plucked a feather with that. Wing and I were raised together, you know. He's my truest family and closest friend. Please remember such."

"Of course, sah." Gull lifted his fist to his heart in salute and stepped quietly to the door. He hesitated there, as if tempted to say more, but Free spoke before he could.

"Get Clear to send out a damping field soon-as."

Gull turned completely, with a frown. "Damping field, sah?"

"Ye. Then get the DS to check our hull for an embedded tracer."

"A tracer, sah?" the older kres protested. "That seems extreme. Why suspect such?"

Free grimaced in response and absently rubbed a scarred cheek. "That passage point kept triggering behind us because exotic matter was being fed back to it. Yes, I know there could be other causes, but it's confirmed. We were warned by a certain kres. One you believe lacks Honor. Wing said we're lit up and I trust him. I want it damped and stopped before we make passage."

Gull sighed and offered a grim salute. "A tracer signal does explain the passage activation. We'll find it, sah and pluck it super quick."

"Good. Keep me in-loop, Gull." Free flicked a weary finger in dismissal and turned away before his most competent officer launched himself through the field.

The Leader listened for his departure and then tapped at his com to replace the false scene beyond his window. He seemed to look into space instead and the view suited his mood. The ship's progress was painfully slow and his window showed a jagged sliver of stripped fullerene trailing past. He sighed and then groaned when his door whistled again.

"Come," he rasped and the door field wavered.

A dark cane pushed through it, to tap its way into the room ahead of carefully placed feet. Grace shuffled into the gravity of Free's quarters and he stepped forward to offer his arm. She leaned on him heavily while she hobbled to the couch and twisted awkwardly to settle on its edge. Free decompressed cushions behind her back and she clucked angrily at the prolonged assistance.

"Nuff, nuff," she complained, and pointed at the rug in front of her. "Sit."

"I'm well enough standing," he said tersely, and her cane struck the floor by his foot.

"Sit, boy. I'm here to make apology and my old neck can't cope with craning at you."

"You wish to say sorry?" he asked in surprise, and she grunted assent.

"Ye and I've no wish to do such staring at your groin."

"Indeed," Free agreed hastily, and crouched before her without further argument.

"Sparrow's palace contact has sent news," she said gruffly without further preamble. "News that Sharpeye has hidden with great care, but still I should have sensed it. I've failed you, Free. Truly, I might have failed every sentient." She paused awkwardly and a few thin strands of hair stirred against her neck. "Arkyss Glow is with child. The Arck has an heir."

"You're sure?" Free protested, and her brief shame vanished.

"Are you daft, boy? Do you think I offer such dire news all unsure? As I say, so it is. The Arck has an unborn son, Arkyn Hawkeye FarFlight. The chick was declared his heir as soon as we went com-dark."

"Sharpeye no longer needs me," Free stated with bleak realisation. "The Safe Successioners no longer need me."

Grace harrumphed in agreement. "Not enough to protect you, Free. Not when others of The Thousand plot your fall. I thought this news might bring you cheer."

Free blinked in surprise. "Cheer, when I can offer my crew no safe escape?"

"Cheer indeed. Our barter power may be gone, but such leaves you free to follow your fronds. A true heart-match is now clear before you."

Free was silent, absorbing the implications of Grace's suggestion, but then his lips thinned and his shoulders slumped. "No, there'll be no such. This is no time for me to breed. I'll not place an innocent wife, or children, in harm's way. Plus, I still hold hope that Goldown will use her influence for us, at least enough to free my crew, if I hold true to our trade."

"Foolish, chick. No marriage will be offered now and I fear Goldown's power will free none of us. I feel the might of the throne is flexing and the previous attack on us was no matter of chance."

"That's true enough," Freefall informed her crisply, his composure restored by the conversation's shift to shipboard matters. "We were lit bright as a supernova. Parts of our hull must have been honeycombed out, then filled with exotic matter and a pulser. A signal was screaming through passage space. That's how we were found and it still offers trouble. We've only just damped the trace and we're as slow as stalactite growth. An easy find."

"Anyone with the tracer frequency will search here?" Grace asked, and the quaver in her voice was more pronounced than Free had ever heard it.

"Ye," he answered more gently, "but thanks to Wing's warning, we've a chance. Never despair."

Free was instantly fixed by a glacial stare. "I am not despaired, boy, I am vexed. By stupidity, both the Arck's and mine. I knew that spacing with you offered Sharpeye a tempting double target, but I'd thought he'd not be fool enough to aim at it." She stopped for an angry cluck and then flipped a hand in dismissal of their present plight. "He will regret this. Get us home, Free. Now."

"I'll best try," he answered grimly. Free rose to his feet, but, before he could help Grace up, a priority whistle shrieked from his console. He whirled toward the projected threat and his jaw set hard against fear. Stay here, his mind ordered even as he launched himself through the door.

The nest was lit by the glare of a dozen scans and a main visual more chilling than the tiny replica above Free's bedroom console. He gave it a glance, but kept moving, firing his com to rocket across the massive sphere. He flew past his crew without braking and slammed into the arm of his chair. The impact took most of his momentum, so that he could simply flip over the seat's padded edge to take his place. The hologram surrounding him now claimed his entire attention.

"Four ships," Free observed breathlessly. "Formation three then one," he added, but looked to Clear for confirmation of the visual data.

"Ye, sah," she answered tersely. "Three to the front will englobe us in ten point two minutes. One trailing those will close three minutes after. No, that's changing. The last is the most fast. It's gaining and will have us in weapons' globe in ten point eight minutes. It also has more power than us, sah."

Free studied her constantly refreshing data for several silent seconds before settling back in his chair. "The last is the most-threat," he murmured to Gull, now hovering at his shoulder. "But the near three are travelling too close grouped, so we take what ignorance offers and destroy them first. TS," he continued more loudly, and the Tactical Senior's face and fronds swivelled toward him. "Send power to detonate the mine we left behind on system entry. Will it damage all three ships?"

The TS ran a rapid simulation and nodded a finger. "Ye, sah. They're all at engine-max and close grouped. Shields are low-power and little defense. They'll be intensive-hurt or worse."

"Good," Free commented with a reassuring smile. "Then we're left with one to one. Bend our course past that mine and on to passage-point. Let's play at chase." He relaxed into his chair and around him his crew moved smoothly to their work. The only concern he could sense came from the main data console. He raised an eyebrow at Clear and her eyes moved from side to side in negation. Their hull had already been damaged too badly to hold under the rigors of evasive flight and they were hopelessly outclassed by their fourth attacker.

I'm sorry, Free thought and, to his amazement, Clear smiled. It was a simple smile, resigned, but content, and he actually grinned back. He realized that they were all facing death, but this time he refused to flinch.

31

Mutiny

A blow smashed into Wing's cheek and he felt the bone crack as his head was thrown back. He sagged in his seat, too stunned to understand Greon's words. He groaned and the leader's roaring came into focus.

"...said they'd die. I want them dead. Your course should have been into that black hole. Into, not around! You lied to me. You failed me. You betrayed me-"

Greon's ranting sprayed Wing with spittle and he knew that another blow was imminent. "No," he croaked, and winced at the fire in his cheek. "Did my best. That leader was smart. Must have checked my course and laid in another. I certain-sure sent them in. At least tried to. He was smarter than me. Sorry, sah."

"It was a safe course out," Greon snarled with undiminished fury. "You told them such. You said-"

"Course I did, sah. Your plan would have failed if I'd told them the truth. Their leader must have checked though... smarter than I thought."

Greon paused and regarded his Senior thoughtfully. "Yes, he was much too smart for you, Nightwing." Greon's lips smacked together as if he was savouring the words. "Too smart for Nightwing," he repeated loudly and nodded gravely, but his apparent sympathy couldn't hide the delight in his silver eyes. They glinted when he decompressed a regen pad and spun it across the nest.

"You're dismissed, Nightwing. I'll make the next passage. Go and seek rest."

'Thank you, Sah.' Wing pushed himself stiffly from his chair and floated toward the link.

"You're all relieved," Greon announced and waved his arms expansively. The nest was briefly silent and then abruptly filled with jostling bodies, each pushing to escape. Despite their hurry, they all remembered to thank the leader, and he smiled smugly. "You've earned it. I'm well pleased. I'll stand early with the shift crew."

Won't they be thrilled, Wing thought bitterly as he waited to enter the crowded link.

"Hazleean, not you," Greon called to his DS just as she reached the safety of the corridor. "You need further instruction."

Hazleean stopped and Wing sensed her panic, before she slowly turned and drifted back to her console. He hesitated too, watching the inept Data Senior while she slunk into place amongst her still-active display. That solicitous glance was enough to freeze him in place. He clamped one hand around an emergency gravity strip while his body was buffeted by the hasty exit blasts of the main crew. He hung alone at the edge of the nest, appalled by the vision above him.

Four ships had entered the system from its far passage point. Wing's gut tightened, although the Bandit was clearly not their target. They were not kres at all. They were mercenaries and he could guess who they were hunting. He kept his face calm and his fronds flat against his chest, but his mind raced. The attackers were growing larger in the display and he knew that Greon would notice them the moment his attention shifted from the cowering Hazleean. Wing was out of time and out of options. He tapped his com once.

"Jileea, we're go. Feed Greon's extra power to my com and lock down the nest. Keep everyone out from now." Wing made no effort to repeat the order. Jileea was either ready or not. If not, they were both dead, but he dismissed that thought. Despair had no place in his plan. His fronds bushed and his pupils dilated when his com shifted to combat mode and adrenaline flooded his system.

Greon finally saw the intrusion alert and gave a startled exclamation. He triggered a general call to arms and Wing kicked hard against the curved wall of the nest to hurtle toward its centre. A com thrust hurled him even faster, but, just before impact, some instinct warned Greon and he turned.

Wing had a brief glimpse of his Leader's astonished expression before his shoulder drove into the mermaridian's throat. Greon's bellow of rage became a croak and he flew backwards, one arm flung wide and the other swinging viciously for Wing's head.

Wing ducked forward and his head tucked under Greon's wild punch. The kres kept diving, curling into a forward roll, so that his leg rose behind him, the heel hammering into his enemy's face.

Greon's cry was little more than a rasp, but he kept flailing at his attacker while they spun across the nest. They collided with the navigation console and were thrown apart, but one of Wing's hands held its death grip on Greon's neck. The Senior's fingers ground deep into solid muscle, locking tight to cut off oxygen.

Greon's eyes went wide and locked on Wing, who stared back unblinking. He hung on each gasp from his victim, willing them to stop and finally felt the pulse that hammered under his rigid fingers start to slow.

Greon sprayed spittle in Wing's face and the kres had to blink. He focused on his Leader again in time to see his eyes dim while something rattled under Wing's hands. The pirate stopped struggling and his fists stopped squeezing Wing's to float away to either side. Everything went very still and very quiet.

Wing sagged too, but he didn't let go. Not yet, although such caution was needless. He knew with primal certainty that he'd done it. He'd challenged the monster and won.

That second of triumph was obliterated by an explosion. Wing was hit in the back by a blast of heat and light. And pain. Horrible, unexpected pain. He was thrown away from the flaccid Greon and sent writhing across the nest, half-blind with agony and the glare of the com blast that had hit him.

Wing spun into the field Jileea had used to trap the crew in the link. He bounced off with his eyes awash and the score of faces pressed close to that shield seemed to be staring through a rain storm. Their eyes were wide and expressions ranged from shocked to delighted.

Wing belatedly realized his fronds could offer more than his sight and lifted them high, seeking the person who had shot him in the back. A fuzzy red and orange figure floated above the data console. Hazleean. Her com arm was outstretched and supported by her other arm, but both were shaking.

Another blast hurled Wing across the nest. He felt heat again and then sharper pain when his com exploded. He slammed into the field guarding Darsey's cell and had a brief impression of her horrified face before skidding on to collect the lip of the cell above hers. He scrabbled desperately at its slick edge. His fingers found purchase and he gripped fast, struggling against shock.

Wing was bitterly aware that every second he needed for recovery gave similar relief to Greon. He could only hope that sheer willpower was enough to offset the mermaridian's advantages of com and physical resilience. He drew in a breath that was sharp with pain and the stink of something crisped by the blast. Most likely him. He was still shaking, but managed to turn back toward the nest. Greon was gone.

Adrenaline hit Wing again, more muted this time, even as a fist closed on the back of his neck. A huge hand nearly circled his throat and he reacted instantly. His heel and elbow swung back viciously, one striking Greon's knee and the other slamming home beneath his heart. Both blows were useless.

They rebounded from Greon's active field, jarring Wing from toes to teeth. His body started to shudder, slipping deeper into shock, and the last of his strength couldn't stop it. The hand holding him tightened and his own shaking was dwarfed by a neck-snapping wrench from Greon.

"Should kill you now," the Leader rasped, "straight and brutal. Too quick, though, an' it won't be quick, kres. Not quick at all."

Greon hauled Wing toward him and then casually slammed his ex-Senior against the cell ledge before dropping them both toward a prison chamber that had started to glow beneath Darsey's.

The Leader's breathing was still ragged and he leaned against the wall while they wafted lower, resting briefly before he had to swing Wing into the cell. The kres swayed helplessly from the grip around his neck, but the expected toss and release never came. Instead, his gaze was drawn from the approaching prison below his feet by an unexpected gurgle from Greon.

Wing twisted his head desperately, trying to sight his suddenly choking foe. Greon's face was purple, but with fury rather than asphyxia. He was trapped against the front of Darsey's cell and the human's arm was somehow through that barrier and around Greon's neck.

Wing wasted no time wondering how Darsey had managed to reach through the field. Her bare arm looked ridiculously puny and, as Greon reached to rip it away, Nightwing kicked out as hard as he could, slamming the soles of his combat boots against Greon's side, his chest, his free arm – anything to distract the pirate.

Greon gasped in outrage, but it was the last sound he ever made. Darsey's other hand appeared, passing through the prison field in a shower of sparks to grip the Leader by his hair. She braced her feet against the field and it supported her solidly when she pulled back hard.

Greon slipped and Darsey dragged his head into her prison, where he gaped up at her in utter disbelief. There was a frozen moment while he seemed to be trying to comprehend such an impossible attack and then Darsey let go. She released Greon and the strangely permeable field snapped back to full strength. It reinstated itself neatly through the pirate's neck.

There was an explosion of sparks and a curious sigh, then silence. Greon's body drifted slowly away from the cell. Wing floated with it, still caught by the death grip on his neck and suddenly too limp to care. He wafted toward the consoles, held tight by all that remained of Greon on this side of Darsey's cell door. He stared blankly at the crew, still trapped in the link, and they gazed back, just as shocked. There was sound now, a low, despairing moan that grew to a desperate litany.

"No, no, no, no. Oh gods oh gods," Hazleean wailed with rising hysteria.

Wing tried to lift his head and failed, which was unacceptable, because he still had unresolved business. He tried harder, although moving was agonising and he had to use all of his remaining strength to pluck Greon's hand from his throat. He pried at each finger and managed to twist them aside. He shuddered and kicked out at the corpse so that it flew free and he drifted in the opposite direction, toward Hazleean.

She watched his slow approach in suddenly frozen horror. Her eyes and mouth were wide with shock, caught in mid-wail. She made no effort to run and simply stared while he wafted toward her. She seemed beyond panic, sitting there stasis-stiff when he gripped her hard by each wrist.

"Com," Wing ordered, and Hazleean surrendered her only protection without protest. Her silver com snapped open to float free from her arm, but only briefly.

Wing snatched it from the air and stretched it into place on his own wrist. The relief was instant and he grimaced, then relaxed while energy flowed through his battered body. Pain disappeared and his attention returned to Hazleean. She gazed back, rapt and terrified.

Wing watched her closely while he slowly and deliberately made the gestures to reprogramme her com. However, she made no effort to intervene while he claimed the device for himself. He linked it to his console and an image of Pertwing appeared at his wrist when his personal program took control of the com. A thought reactivated the cell that Greon had been planning to torture him in and he simply pointed at the newly lit prison.

Hazleean was shaking now and her first effort to push away from her seat hardly moved her. She floated just above it and had to kick against it again as hard as she could in order to reach the cell. She gained just enough momentum to cover the distance. The prison's gravity claimed her the moment she entered and she thumped painfully to the floor. She turned forlornly to face her captor, who watched her bleakly.

"Why?" Wing demanded, and Hazleean swallowed hard.

"It was Greon." She gulped. "Greon! He all-times wins. Every time. And mad. He would've been so mad. He would've h-hurt me. Wing? Wing, please..."

Her plea trailed off and Wing turned away without answering. He looked toward the crew, still crowded in the link, and they stared silently back, each calculating what this change in leadership might offer. Jileea was in the front row now, pressed close to the energy barrier she had activated. She offered Wing a feverishly bright smile before opening a single space in the door field, a space that would allow entry to only one person at a time. The kres was about to thrust off to meet her when a soft call claimed his attention.

"Hey," Darsey said calmly, and Wing looked her way. "Let me out. Now."

"No."

She held Greon's head up by its hair without flinching. "You owe me."

"Ye, thanks," Wing agreed, before turning away. He could feel her outrage, but ignored it and took off toward the Leader's chair. He reached it while Jileea was still crossing the nest. He gripped the back of the chair and spun toward his accomplice, throwing out a hand in her direction. His fingers flicked and the com he had lent her dropped off to fly straight back to him. He smiled and slammed the nest lock-down back into place. She looked over her shoulder at the solid shield and her lips twitched.

"All-times got back cover, ye, Wing?"

"Ever-all."

She looked around for Greon and Wing pointed to Darsey's cell.

Jileea's mouth creased, before she pursed her lips in disbelief. "How could a primitive alien defeat a commed mermaridian?" She frowned at the graphic evidence of the slave's success and a minute passed before she looked away from that grisly proof of Greon's death.

"So," she finally sighed, turning back to Wing. "We're free. What now?"

"Now we fight," he stated grimly, but raised a calming hand when Jileea tensed in response. "Not each other. I want our best attack against those."

He gestured toward a warning visual of four mercenary ships, but when he did so the scene erupted in an explosion of color. A ball of flame filled the nest and three of the attacking ships were ripped apart. A shockwave logo rippled across the scene and debris seemed to scatter from the hologram.

"Yes," Wing breathed. "Yes, yes. Good move, Free."

He spun back to face Jileea, still gripping the back of the leader's chair. "This seat is yours, as-said, but first I claim my lift. Not Rimwards, as I thought, but only to that kres ship. Will you deal, Leader Jileea?"

The mermaridian chewed her lip and studied the hologram doubtfully. "It's poor dealing, Nightwing. Your fleet ship will soon be destroyed. The last mercenary is stronger and faster than its prey. And if the kres some way defeats it, then they'll likely destroy us too."

"No," Wing protested urgently. "I promise not. My cousin is leader and I can keep you safe. He'll be grateful too, once we save him from that last ship."

"Save him?" Jileea crowed derisively. "Save him? We'd not save ourselves from such an attack."

"I've a plan," Wing promised, and Jileea's smile disappeared.

Her eyes narrowed and she hissed softly. "You'll kill us all, kres."

"Mayhap. Do you claim this seat, or do I?"

Jileea hissed again, but she was already moving. She had to launch herself from a series of consoles, but, despite her lack of com, she was quick to reach the central chair. She glared at Wing before turning and dropping onto its gold and pink padding. Huge cushions settled around her and she sighed before looking up to scowl at the kres, but he was gone.

Wing swung into place at his usual console, calling up full-function control before settling into his seat. He set the Bandit moving in the same instant, surging back toward the battle.

"Leadership for a mere half minute was not my wish, kres."

"Relax and enjoy," Wing answered distractedly. "I calculate ninety seconds before we reach the enemy's weapons' globe."

Jileea hissed in response, but he ignored her. He turned all of his attention to the challenge of tagging the still-distant ship. He had a radical idea that might keep them all alive, but it would take the most difficult passage jumps of his life. While his hands readied a stream of exotic matter, his mind hooked into the Bandit's scanners.

Wing reached out to the enemy ship and felt his scan strike its hull. He could sense that smooth curve and he held tightly to its image while releasing a stream of exotic matter. His mind directed it straight to the enemy and it rode the mini passage made by the scanner with ease. He breathed out hard in relief and realized that Jileea was talking to him.

"How did you place a trace in mid-travel? And why? We already know exactly where they are."

"I tagged them for good purpose," he answered tersely. "Where are they going, Jileea?"

"That's clear too," she snorted. "They follow the fleet ship."

"Ye, but to where?"

Jileea checked the main display impatiently. "The first course was back to passage point, but now it veers to the black hole."

"Exactly," Wing agreed. "They're headed for a singularity and I'm going to jump them straight in."

"What?" Jileea protested. "You can't jump another ship. Not from the outside."

"Watch," Wing ordered, and turned back to his console. The information above it looked very different now. It no longer showed the mercenary ship, but instead offered pursuit vectors and a clear view of the kres ship. He had tapped into the navigation console of the mercenary ship and they were watching their enemy's main display.

"You've made an intelligent trace," Jileea whispered, and he grunted in response.

"Got the idea from Darsey," he admitted. "When she used my com, it left traces of ExM in her cells. They were porous to it, most strange. Now her body can passage. Just a little, just past energy fields, but even small-as jumps are enough to get free, or enough to break in."

"You've broken in," Jileea shrieked with delight and bounced in her seat. "You're in the enemy systems. That truly is their data stream we can see. Take control. Order a crew lockdown and stop that ship, Wing."

"I can't," he said grimly and his new Leader quickly calmed. "We can watch, but no more. There'll be only one chance to use their command channels and I'll take it when needed. Until then, we just look. Once the black hole is close, I'll initiate a jump. I'll send them past its horizon."

"Perfect-" Jileea began, but she was interrupted by a streak of light from their stolen visual.

It was the bright trail of a torpedo fired by the mercenary toward the fleeing kres. The weapon arced after the fleet ship, which lurched awkwardly aside. The explosion was close and the view of Free's ship was lost in a fiery cloud. Icons stolen from the enemy nest showed more missiles being readied and Wing swore softly. He was out of time and could only hope the singularity was close enough for his plan to work.

He took a steadying breath and reached into the console display before him as confidently as if it belonged to his own ship. The response was instant. The helm came smoothly under his control when he initiated passage contact. It locked onto the massive singularity ahead and Wing released exotic matter from his stowaway tracer.

He sensed resistance now, as the ship's real nav senior tried to regain control. Warning icons showed red and gold while flashing wildly. The mercenary vessel lurched and a shock speared up Wing's arm and across his chest. He leaned into the pain, bending forward with hands thrust out to force through the command to jump. His mind and body flooded the console with a single, overwhelming order and it worked.

One moment the nest was filled with images and figures from the enemy vessel and the next it was dark. All information vanished, along with the ship. The hijacking worked and the mercenary jumped straight to disaster. The Bandit's normal display returned, but the attackers were missing from it, unimaginably lost in the heart of a black hole.

The reality of what Wing had done suddenly hit home and he groaned.

In stark contrast, Jileea snorted with unashamed delight. "They didn't jump, they were pushed." She guffawed and bounced in her seat again. "Wing, that was lovely. I most wish you'd stay."

"That was gross," he snapped, and had to bite down against bile.

Jileea hissed and slapped the arms of her chair in exasperation. "It was truly good, especially the part where we survived. Kres are most odd, even you, Wing. On re-think, it's best for you to join your people. But will they take you?"

Wing looked up from his glowing com. "I just got an invite-in. They'll have me." He pushed away from his seat in sudden impatience. "I can go. Now." They looked at each other awkwardly until Wing bowed to Jileea, not a full obeisance, but deep enough to offer real respect. "My thanks to you, Lady. You backed me well and stood true. If you ever have need, I'll do the same."

"Thanks, Wing, and for the ship, most thanks. Go with Luck."

"You too, Leader." Wing turned to leave, but another voice stopped him.

"Nightwing," Darsey called clearly, but he made no effort to turn around, just tilted his head slightly to show he was listening. "Don't you leave without me. Don't you dare."

Wing hesitated, but there was truly nothing to be said. He was still in-mission and Darsey needed to be sent home safe, but convincing her to trust him again and stay with the Bandit would take more than a minute.

"Sorry," he said shortly, keeping his back to her and that was all he offered, before turning to face Jileea instead. "I bartered a better deal with the human's buyer. The meet co-ordinates are in my console. He'll pay sixteen thousand for delivery. You'll see it done?"

Jileea offered a tight smile in response. "At sixteen kay credits, I'd be foolish not to."

"Good." Wing had scarcely uttered the word before his com fired and hurled him across the nest. The field blocking the link switched off just before he hit it and the crew still clustered there had to scatter when he dived past them.

"Wing," Darsey called after him, but he ignored her.

Her cry faded and he kept his attention on the passage ahead. He had things to do and his time with Darsey would fade as surely as her voice.

32

Future Deal

Darsey turned her back on the link so she wouldn't have to watch Nightwing go. "What you don't see can't hurt you," she whispered sadly, and then silently mocked herself. The childish thought was followed by a more adult admission. He's gone. She closed her eyes tightly against that truth.

There was renewed movement in the nest and Darsey finally looked around to see crew from every shift surging from the link and jostling to claim consoles. Jileea seemed to be ignoring them, with her gaze fixed on a gold circle floating toward her. The bracelet opened like a hungry mouth, then lunged for her wrist to snap tight. Jileea arched back in response, before settling deeper into the leader's seat. She lifted a hand to beckon the nearest crewmember and the others began to queue before her.

In her cell, Darsey took a deep breath and searched for resolve. She finally realized how much she'd been relying on Nightwing to save her, and that admission freed her from false hope. Her determination returned and she bent to retrieve Greon's head from the floor. She refused to think about what she was actually holding and moved resolutely to the front of her prison. Stopping as close to the prison field as she could without crossing it, she carefully balanced the head at her feet. She placed it facing outwards so that the dead eyes looked into the nest. Their glassy stare seemed to focus on Jileea.

The new Leader continued to organise her crew, apparently unperturbed, but when she glanced at the cell she blanched before looking quickly away. Minutes passed without Jileea looking back, while every pirate took a turn floating at her knee.

Darsey watched the strange parade past Santa closely and it was bizarre enough to help her forget what lay at her feet. Each crew member stopped by their new leader and projected images from their coms. Darsey saw jewellery, faceted bottles, strange food and even a sculpture of two wrestling mutt. It seemed the supplicants were the ones who came bearing gifts.

Jileea lounged in place, occasionally raising a finger in acceptance. When this happened the pirate in front of her would bow low, before turning to claim a console. Most of the officers turned away disconsolate to drift slowly back down the link.

The queue shortened to one and then it was gone. Jileea's gaze finally returned to Darsey's cell and her lips creased at whatever she saw in Greon's dead eyes. Darsey leaned forward, stretching over the bowling ball at her feet toward the protective field. Her hand reached that barrier and kept going. It slid straight through a supposedly impenetrable wall of energy.

Jileea blinked and the renewed rhythm of nest activity faltered. Covert glances flicked between the crew, but their attention was clearly on their untried leader. Darsey rearranged her face into what she hoped was a mocking and confident grin, which seemed to work since Jileea rose from her throne. At least she had her attention.

Just to be sure, Darsey waggled her fingers in the free air of the nest and then drew her arm back through the field. Jileea's jaw clenched, but she managed a grimacing smile in response.

The Leader wafted serenely above the active crew consoles, moving forward slowly and staring down every officer she passed. They quickly returned to their work, each one apparently engrossed, and she switched her attention to the approaching wall of cells.

Jileea's com halted her progress and she stopped in front of Darsey's brightly lit prison. She waved her hand and the field guarding it disappeared. "Seems redundant," she pointed out coolly.

Darsey regarded the mermaridian thoughtfully as she continued to float outside the cell.

"May I enter?" Jileea requested with unexpected courtesy.

"Sure," Darsey replied, nodding toward Greon's head. "Watch the step."

"Indeed." Jileea slid to one side before striding across the cell ledge.

Darsey managed to wait until gravity had gripped her guest, but then she was talking. "I'm a problem," she stated with urgent conviction. "I'm a problem already and I guarantee I'll get worse. I know how to pass through barriers, so you can't hold me. On top of that, your crew thinks I'm lucky, which limits your options. I know you don't want trouble with any superstitions. If you execute me the chances are you wouldn't survive, at least not as leader. But if you drop me at the next port, we both get our lives back. Deal?"

Darsey's proposal came to a halt and silver-gray eyes regarded her impassively. Had she spoken too fast? She steadied herself to stare back with the same lack of emotion and there was a moment of silence while they stood with gazes locked. "This could go on for some time," Darsey said with all the sanity she could muster, and Jileea blinked.

"It could pass a while," she agreed, 'and I do have other things to do. One such relates to you. Nightwing claimed there'd be an increased bonus to deliver you. It's up to sixteen thousand credits."

"He lied," Darsey stated flatly and, to her surprise, Jileea smiled.

"Of course he did. I was in-link and saw most-all that passed. He had no chance to clear contacts from some mystery kres. No, Nightwing wants me elsewhere. He has some profit to be made on the Rim. He must do. Why else barter control of the Bandit for a single lift Rimwards? If he knows of more wealth, I'd like a chance to share it. I've set us to follow the kres ship, with much care, of course."

"That's nice," Darsey answered bluntly, "but what about me?"

"I could sell you again," Jileea mused, but was stopped by a low growl.

"I wouldn't recommend it."

"Actually, I agree with you, human."

Darsey sighed and her hands relaxed from being fists. "So, what will you do with me?"

Jileea offered a conspiratorial grin. "Whatever you choose."

Darsey tried to hold her face still and neutral, but her tone carried all of her suspicion. "Really?"

"Truly. This offer is your-choice, but I do have a suggestion. Ask to be set free on Gratuity, with credit and a com."

"What?" Darsey's throat constricted to choke further words. Hope left her momentarily faint, but then suspicion rose to revive her. This deal was way too good to be genuine and her mind raced, trying to understand how Jileea might benefit from it. She came up blank. "What do you get in return?"

Jileea seemed unperturbed by the question. "In give-back I want an open, unspecified future deal. You're in-luck at this time, girl, and I want some. Owe me a future deal and you're free, with com."

"No," Darsey protested instantly. "A future deal? You'll turn up some day and tell me I have to pay with my firstborn child or something."

Jileea's mouth puckered into a vertical line of astonishment. "Weird." She shook herself, but her lips straightened. "Weird species. I won't demand any such. I won't demand at all. A future deal is made by you. When you realize you can do me a favor, at any time in your life, you're luck-bound to do it." She sniffed and her lips tightened in a sly grin. "My instincts say your future will pay better than an unknown kres slaver who might show, but might turn chick instead. Deal?"

Darsey frowned and mentally reviewed Jileea's description of a future deal. There were no obvious snags and freedom suddenly felt excruciatingly close. "What's life without a little risk? Sure, you have a deal."

Jileea looked pleased, without being delighted. "I'll download a com for you and we'll seal. You can use Nightwing's old quarters until we dock."

She turned toward the nest and gestured at a compression strip. A silver com appeared in front of it and a flick of Jileea's finger summoned the gleaming circle. Darsey watched it grow with hungry intensity.

Jileea moved to stand so near their shoulders touched, but her tone remained casual. "Will you take some advice?"

Darsey offered her a brief, startled glance before turning back to catch the approaching com. "Probably not."

"Don't hang your heart on a kres. Their royals are most weird."

There was no immediate response from Darsey, who was examining the com as it settled round her wrist. When it was safety in place she answered with quiet intensity. "I've no intention of hanging my heart, or any other part of my anatomy, anywhere near Nightwing."

"Good," Jileea agreed brightly. "Truly good. He'll dock ahead of us at Gratuity and your new life has no need of such complication."

"There's no complication," Darsey insisted, and Jileea looked relieved.

"Excellent. At least you've no such interest and you can certain-sure discourage his. He already has some strange beliefs about you. He claims to know how you pass through energy fields. He said it could hurt you, even be lethal. I'd tell you more if I knew, but Nightwing was the only genius in this crew. Still, don't be tempted to seek for him. There's no evidence that his theories are truth and I'd not like your fresh-given freedom to be wasted."

"Ah," Darsey breathed softly with sudden comprehension. She knew what Jileea wanted from her now, but stared down at her new com to hide that understanding. She stroked the silver band and then covered it protectively with her free hand. "You'll let me go and let me stay gone?"

"Ye, I swear it. On my Luck."

Darsey looked up again, gauging that promise before nodding in agreement. "Good enough. Let's seal the deal." She stretched out her wrist, sending careful mental commands to her com, and it linked briefly with Jileea's.

"Good," the pirate leader approved, and swung toward the nest with a sweeping gesture for Darsey to precede her. "Welcome back to the universe."

Darsey started to step past, but was abruptly gripped hard by the upper arm. She glared at Jileea, who frowned back. "Don't ignore my advice, human. Curiosity, even about a life threat, is not worth reunion with that kres." Jileea shook Darsey's arm once, in emphasis, then propelled her forward and into freedom.

33

Reunion

Nightwing paced across the viscous floor of a simple escape bubble, treading a rainbow circle in its flat base. He trusted Free more than anyone he knew, but returning to kres territory was still a huge risk. He faced arrest or worse. If the Arck had an agent on board Wing would have to fight for his life. He frowned blindly down at the floor puddling beneath his feet, oblivious to the ripples of color surrounding each step.

He remained lost to his surroundings, until his wrist tingled with the arrival of co-ordinates at his com. He focused on the unexpected directions in surprise. He'd never needed electronic navigation to find an open docking bay before. He looked up at the approaching ship for the first time since leaving the Bandit.

A giant vessel blocked the stars ahead and Wing's lips pursed in a low whistle. Its purple bulk curved above his bubble, which rocketed beneath its hull and past letters twice as tall as he was. Grace he read as he sped under the belly of the beast and the name unsettled him further.

The Freefall who had been his best friend would never have named his ship after that caustic and bossy old lady. Did he even know his cousin anymore? Perhaps after so many years apart they would simply stare at each other like strangers.

However, Wing had no more time to worry about their reunion. His com thrummed, directing the bubble to slow sharply until it could drift through an open hatch. It wafted the length of an entry bay, to settle gently against the energy field at its far end. The small vessel's curved skin flattened against that shield, before fusing with it so that the single surface could part to let Wing enter his cousin's ship.

The kres pirate hesitated at the sight of guards in the chamber beyond, but the ten armoured figures snapped to attention, five on either side of the door in honor guard formation. Wing took a deep breath before strolling through the hatch with a casual whistle. That childhood signal went unanswered and there was no other sign of Free. Instead a strange officer stepped forward and bowed.

"Ship Senior Gull Snowbeak welcoming you on, my lord. Please enter."

Wing nodded gravely, but when he advanced further into the ship Gull's smile disappeared.

"Take him."

Wing's honor guard changed to captors in an instant. They circled him with raised wrists, but he was just as fast. His compressed sword dropped from his com to his hand, where he spun it in a series of arcs before gripping it firmly, in the pattern demanding trial by combat.

However Gull simply sneered at the ancient ritual. "You're no longer one of us and none will cross blades with you. Your challenge is rejected. Drop the weapon."

Instead Wing raised his sword to the ready position. "Are you all too Honorless to duel?"

The guards stirred uneasily and one of them cleared her throat, but before she could speak they were distracted by the distant shriek of someone's rapid passage along the link. The noise grew louder and a rising wind travelled with it. A final rush of air blasted from the tunnel to tumble Gull into the guard in front of Wing. They both stumbled aside when Free appeared in the doorway.

The kres Leader was still moving too fast to stop, so instead ran up the alcove wall. He slid down that curved surface when gravity finally caught him and skidded to a halt in front of Nightwing. The two cousins studied each other impassively.

"Wing."

"Free."

"Nice sword."

"Nice ship."

Nightwing calmly sheathed his blade at his wrist and tried to stay cool, but it was impossible. Free grinned and he felt his own beaming smile, huge and irrepressible, in response. He launched himself into a bear hug and they held each other hard, until Wing plucked Free from his feet in delight. He dropped his reclaimed cousin and they separated just far enough to clasp forearms instead.

"Wing."

"Free."

I've missed you, their fronds sent at the same moment and Free gripped Wing's shoulder to study him intently.

"Are you well? You look good."

"I believe I look under arrest," Wing corrected, glancing past his cousin to raise an eyebrow at Gull.

"Certain-sure," the Ship Senior confirmed, straightening his tunic before moving to stand behind his leader. "We've orders to hold you as a traitor."

"Gull," Free said softly, but with a mental snap that made all of his crew flinch, "I've told you that my cousin is no traitor and on my ship you'd best remember such."

He released Wing and turned to lock stares with his senior officer. Gull quickly dropped his gaze, but his voice was determined. "This is a prime order from the Arck. Please, sah, let me do my duty and arrest him."

"Never."

"It's my duty."

"I'm sorry you see it so, with no loyalty owed to me. I doubt your crewmates will agree. They know how to obey the highest officer present. If you persist in this mutiny you'll never give another order on this ship. Nor will you ever leave it."

Wing jerked with shock and almost recoiled. His cousin had changed more than he'd feared. His old friend could never have threatened anyone in such a way, much less one of his crew, but Free's mind was steady and resolved. A single frond twitch was enough to convince Gull.

"Who should my strike team arrest? You, or no-one?" Free demanded and his Senior bowed low.

"I apologise Sector Leader. Your direct order is paramount and your understanding of these matters far beyond mine. Do you wish these guards dismissed?"

"Indeed."

Gull saluted crisply then gestured for the strike team to leave. "Back to barracks. Quick time."

They turned as one and trotted into the link, where they quickly disappeared with their Senior close behind. Free stared grimly after them, until Wing draped an arm across his shoulders.

"Command's a ditch," the ex-pirate observed philosophically. "Would you really have killed him?"

Free snorted. "Don't over value yourself. I'd never hurt Gull, but a time in his quarters with no out-talk might have been needed."

"Thanks. You okay?"

"Oh-what?"

Wing pulled back in surprise before shrugging a hand. "It's just a word a friend of mine likes to use. I meant are you well?"

Free smiled more easily in response. "I'm the best I've been for years. Come, let's have a drink and you can bore me with your exploits."

"Just like times past."

They entered the link together and Free directed them across it to an empty greeting room. They wafted into a circular chamber showing visuals of a sandy island set in a teal sea that seemed to stretch away on all sides.

"This ship's as pretty as its leader," Wing observed gleefully.

"At least I have a ship," Free retorted just as happily. "Grab a seat."

Wing crunched across impressively authentic sand to settle on a feather fringed settee.

"Do you still drink grathol on ice with a fizz mixer?" Free asked after catching glasses released by the wall.

"No mixer. I'm all grown up now and hard as any glacier."

"Save your sex stories for later."

Wing chuckled contentedly. "How I've missed your refined wit."

"I'm sure there's nothing like it on the Rim." Free turned with the drinks and walked across to pass one down to Wing.

He accepted his glass with a nod at his cousin's torso. "Who did you shoot to get the sector leader's tunic?"

"Like it?" Free spun slowly with arms spread wide, to show off his uniform.

"It suits you well, but I'm not so sure of the ship's name. You didn't choose it, did you?"

"I did and it's most deserved. Lady Grace made this hulk fully fit for space. She carried all the cost of refurbishing."

"You owe her then?"

"I fear so."

Wing lifted his glass and threw back half of its contents. "Grace is too strange for me to fathom. She's ever been caustic and critical, yet she aids us both as if we were her young. It makes no sense. She's an enigma."

"She's also on board."

"She's here? Guano. There's extra incentive for me to leave the ship and finish my mission."

"Mission?"

"For true."

"Wait." Freefall chose a tartan patterned lounger and collapsed onto it. He stretched out to gaze at the apparent sky above and took a long sip of his drink. "I'm ready. Tell all."

"We needs must go back then. You remember when I ran from Court?"

"The scandal of the century that cut out my heart and my cheeks? I recall."

Wing stirred uncomfortably and paused for another gulp of grathol, letting it drag fire from his throat to his gut while he gathered his thoughts. "Some parts you may have missed. Once you realized that Goldown had turned me addict by feeding me hook without my knowing, well... you saved my life. You helped me fight free of that guano..."

"You've told me thanks before," Free said softly in the silence that fell. "And that is all long past."

"True, but you don't know what happened when I broke with Goldown. She placed a contract for your death and said she'd make it active unless I stayed." Wing jerked forward to perch on the edge of his seat and gulped at his drink again. "I didn't stay." Silence grew once more. "Did you hear, Free? I told her no and I left."

Wing edged further forward, but his cousin refused to make eye contact. Instead Free stopped staring at a roof now streaked with sunset and closed his eyes. "A-huh," he managed, but that was all. So you ran and that's how I got shot, his mind filled in and Wing leapt to his feet.

"No, gods no. It wasn't like that. I'd never run and leave you to assassins. I love you more than anyone in my life, you know that." His mind underlined the tie between them and Free accepted it.

"So what was it like, then?"

"I went to Crest."

Free's eyes flicked open in surprise. "Our Crest? Who raised us?"

"Ye. He had a secret that I'd discovered years past."

"Tell."

"Crest was an agent for the Shadows." Wing threw back the last of his drink, before checking Free's reaction to his revelation. It started as a laugh, but quickly changed to amazement when Wing's mind reinforced the truth of his words.

"A Shadow? Like the super spies of old? Working for good and to keep all kres safe?"

"Just like. I could scarce believe it either, but I did my own spying and found it was true. He admitted such when I asked him for help saving you and escaping Goldown. He also recruited me then."

Wing was interrupted by another guffaw of disbelieving laughter. He gave his cousin a long look, supported by his most serious mental touch. "I am a Shadow, Free. I know it sounds crazy, but Crest needed me to investigate the t'ssaa."

"Wait, wait." Free settled back further in his seat to stare at the roof. "Are you saying you're in mission now? Something to do with the t'ssaa?"

"Exactly. They've been hunting kres."

"Hunting us? I've never heard of such."

"That's because there have only been four incidents. Two attempted snatches were foiled by Shadows and two by the Fleet. However, Sharpeye considers them random acts of piracy."

"But t'ssaa aren't pirates and they've never shown such interest in kres before."

"Which is why we Shadows are so worried. I've placed tracking cells with a group of t'ssaa and I can follow them to gain information. But I need your help to do that."

"Don't you have backup? And what of the Arck? He may not agree with them in this, but doesn't he support the Shadows?"

"Support?" Wing laughed. "The Shadows find no favor with Sharpeye. Our resources are still impressive, but not publicly. We work for our people all alone and in secret."

Free gazed absently at the roof, circling his glass so that the ice gave a tinkling accompaniment to his abstraction. "We used to play Shadow agents as chicks," he murmured and shook his head in wonder.

He sighed before finally sitting forward to study his cousin. "Alright, you've my full support. I'll follow the t'ssaa for you, despite the risk. I'll get you close enough to reach them and spy on them and I'll wait as long as you need for extraction. I would send a strike team with you too, but not on the Rim."

"Indeed. A group of kres out there would raise more than just suspicion. My thanks, Free. I'm debted to you."

"I just hope I get to collect."

"Don't fear for me on the Rim. I've won a place there as an Honorless exile and none will question it." Wing raised his empty glass with a cynical smile. "Here's to being outcast."

Free lifted his tumbler in a matching salute. "Here's to coming home."

34

Gratuity

Darsey stepped onto her second alien world and straight into a riot. She dropped from a public access tube onto a metal walkway that groaned and swayed beneath the booted feet of a surging throng. Bodies pushed past her, running and shoving to a constant accompaniment of thrumming metal. She was thrust aside and crashed into the single metal railing that stopped that crowd from plunging onto lower walkways.

She was folded over it by the impact and, for a second, her body tried to passage past the barrier. There was a sickening sensation of metal slipping between her cells before she managed to stop the process. Darsey pulled back from the rail, just far enough for it to reappear outside her skin. The metal finally stopped tingling, to feel properly cold and solid against her bare waist.

She was still unconvinced by Jileea's choice of a cropped gold top, above a purple hip wrap over striped leggings, but no-one seemed to be staring. And at least she'd got her way with the boots. They were black, solid and looked seriously dangerous. They were definitely the type of footwear needed to tackle an alien world.

Or they would be, if she ever found a way to break free. The pressure against her squashed waist was still intense as aliens continued to push past, keeping her trapped. Instead of struggling, she hung there, draped safely over the handrail and took a moment to study the rest of Gratuity. The first thing she realized was that, despite her initial perception, she had not arrived in the middle of a riot. The frantic movement and noise seemed to be part of the ongoing life of the settlement. There were people of various shapes and a huge range of sizes in constant motion. The noise of footfalls and collisions against a gigantic web of metal stairs and ramps was overwhelming.

Darsey's console had told her that Gratuity was a ball of icy rock, no bigger than Earth's moon and far distant from its suns, but its inhabitants had transformed it into something unrecognisable. Around and below her vantage point spread a maze of gangways, ramps and gridded steps that spiralled inwards to the planet's surface. However, that far distant ground was invisible. It was completely lost within a metal cage, a rock trapped inside a scarred and dented tin can.

Massive footfalls made Darsey's perch sway and groan when a mutt shouldered his way past. She was distracted and her abdomen almost merged with the rail again. She straightened in frustration, using some of her com's precious power to push back against the surrounding press. She turned and forced her way into the crush, darting forward when a gap appeared.

It was suddenly easy to move through the press and Darsey slipped quickly into place behind a broad back. Their pace increased and the crowd parted ahead of them. People fell over themselves to get out of her way- no, of course they didn't. Everyone was jumping aside for the tall figure she was following.

Darsey slowed her pace to fall back from the heels of her guide and studied him more closely. The plain leather-like vest and trousers he was wearing were no help, so she looked higher. He was a full head taller than her, but no more, which made him too short for a mutt and too lithe as well. His white blonde hair seemed typically mermaridian and bobbed through the crowd like dozens around them. Except there wasn't a crowd, not in front of her icebreaker.

The stranger abruptly slowed and Darsey almost bounced off his broad back. She skidded to a halt, twisting aside and ducking to avoid a collision. She dropped panting, to crouch at his heels, but her focus was on the cause of the sudden stop. A collared mutt was charging at them at full speed. Its lowered head looked like a bony battering ram and it was twice the size of her guide. It was going to trample over her without even noticing.

Darsey threw herself to one side, but the stranger standing over her just cleared his throat. The galloping mutt looked up at the last minute and panic creased its flat face. Its eyes rolled wildly as if searching for escape and the decking bucked when it tried to brake. "Lord Nikareon," the creature wailed and gave up trying to stop. Instead it threw itself sideways. It launched its bulk over the railing and off the walkway.

Whoa. Darsey was at the rail in a second, draped over it to stare past the metal cobwebs below.

The massive slave crashed through a rusted girder, before slamming into another gantry and making it buckle. He picked himself up amid shards of girder and people who had thrown themselves out of the way. The crowd eddied, rippled and then surged on, carrying the flotsam mutt with it.

Darsey flipped upright and looked after the formidable Nikareon. Whoever he was he certainly made an impression. No-one was about to mess with him, or with his entourage, which had just become her.

Darsey strode out confidently in the mermaridian's wake, her kick-ass boots striking sparks from the metal trellis. Her path remained clear and growing smugness warmed her bare middle. She could do this. It seemed she didn't need Wing after all.

Thought of the kres brought her up short. He'd abandoned her - left her to be passed on to another owner. She could only imagine what might be happening, right now, if she hadn't escaped. Nothing good. A new warmth filled her gut. It was a flood of pure hatred.

Her sole connection in this nightmare universe, the only person she'd actually liked, liked a lot if she was honest, had utterly betrayed her. She would never, ever even begin to forgive him.

Darsey accelerated after Nikareon, taking huge strides to catch up. She powered each grim step with a silent refrain. Hate. Him. Hate. Him. Hate. Him.

Ahead of Darsey her unknowing icebreaker dipped, before dropping lower. Stairs. She realized just in time, looking down to see the floor vanish and a gap to rusted treads below. An awkward hop saved her from falling and she skipped down the stairs. Hate him, hate him, hate him, hate him-

The mermaridian reached the bottom and stopped so abruptly that Darsey almost ran into him again. He spun to loom over her and she looked up with a gulp. Mismatched eyes, one gold, one gray, studied her coldly. "Why do you follow me, female?"

Darsey planted her hands on her hips and went with honesty. "You part the crowd."

A pair of fronds snaked forward to brush her temples. She flinched at their tickling touch and had to hold herself still, while she tried to make sense of the ice water now trickling behind her eyes. The Harvester clearly had fronds. But fronds were a kres thing, weren't they? And telepathy too? The strange strands tightened across her brow and a glacier began to grind through her head, but this time she didn't flinch.

"Alright, go easy. I was hopping a ride, that's all."

"Truth." However, the ice kept shearing through her mind. "But it fails to explain why you hate me with such passion. I usually know why a female despises me and you I would remember. So why follow with such hate in your head?"

"What?" Darsey's mind cranked to top speed, despite the spears of cold and she almost laughed. "No. No, no, no. You're not the guy I hate. Trust me."

There was a moment of intense pain, before the glacier sheared away. The Harvester's fronds curled back with it and he considered Darsey with a sudden, dazzling smile. "Very well, little one. There's something odd about your mind, but I've no time to study such now. I do offer advice though. Don't 'hop a ride' behind a Beserk again."

It took Darsey a minute to regain the simple rhythm of breathing and by the time she had, her icebreaker was gone. "Yes, officer, no, officer," she murmured after the strange Beserk and shook her head. Never follow a guy that everyone else works so hard to avoid. Got it.

Someone shoulder barged Darsey, half spinning her round and suddenly she was angry. With everyone and everything in space, but especially the people on this stupid rock. She was sick of them all and had no intention of being intimidated ever again.

Darsey committed herself to the crowd and instantly became part of its flow, with little chance of stopping quickly. However, she found the uncontrolled movement a surprising release. Making progress through the press was possible, but it took determination and skill. A moderate use of com enhancement gave her enough speed and strength to claim the spaces she saw and she was soon slipping between the close-packed bodies at speed.

Darsey slid and side-stepped her way down a clattering ramp, the metal under her boots swaying and vibrating, but she had her balance now and moved confidently with the mass of people crowding the station. She had an advantage over the bulkier individuals in that press and started to overtake them. However, as she worked her way deeper into Gratuity, a flicker of peripheral movement stayed with her.

At first, Darsey thought she was imagining that shadow, but there was an unmistakable commotion behind her when she swung under the handrail and dropped to a lower gantry. She looked up quickly and caught a glimpse of her pursuer. A dirty little face, topped by greasy, blond curls, pushed past the shins of a passing mutt. Darsey glared up at the child, who looked startled, but then simply grinned at being caught. His cheeky expression was charming and she was unable to hold onto her frown, but did manage to stop her answering grin before it reached her mermaridian face. She settled for a slight smile instead and beckoned the boy closer. His expression grew instantly wary and he disappeared back into the crowd.

Darsey shrugged mentally and managed to turn against the jostling of the passing throng. She was backed up hard against another handrail, but below her was something different. Beyond the spider web of walkways was a clear space. An open-fronted square with a high ceiling offered a respite from the crush of people. It was relatively empty, especially further in, and Darsey could see why. It was well lit, but bland, an undecorated and unfurnished cavern with all the appeal of a spacecraft hangar. However, it offered room to stop and consult her com without constant interruption.

Darsey darted back into that sentient flow, having to sprint to reclaim a place in the stream of people. Retaining it was just as hard, with everyone moving faster the further she ventured into Gratuity. Stairs suddenly appeared beneath her feet and she almost fell again, but managed to jump instead and landed on the heels of the mutt ahead of her.

The creature grunted, but otherwise ignored her, and she recovered herself in time to turn onto another gangway. It was made from broader slabs of rusting gray that crumbled under her heels. It felt more unstable than ever, but it ran along the front of the strange open space and there was no handrail to stop her from entering. Instead, there was a chasm between the two surfaces. The passage never met the hangar's floor, but simply ran parallel to it, and there were no bridges to cross the dark space between.

Darsey hardly hesitated. She knew she had to move before the weight of bodies pushing past knocked her into that gap. She eyed the daunting space intently, letting her subconscious judge the leap, while her conscious mind stomped down hard on her instinct to flee. She jabbed her elbows repeatedly into the crowd and managed to back up two steps. That would have to be enough.

Darsey took a single, sprinting stride and leapt with combat strength. She flew over the chasm, then its far edge as well, to land far into the room beyond. Her momentum was still so great she had to run on for several steps into the bright, white hangar-like cavern.

"Wow," she murmured and elation surged through her as powerfully as any energy boost. It seemed even a silver com was definitely worth wearing.

Darsey settled on her heels and looked around for the first time since landing. The strange room was nowhere near as empty as she'd thought. Now that she had crossed its threshold, images appeared in the air around her. They clustered as thick as the crowd she had just escaped, above, below and all around, filling the chamber with a dazzling array. Dozens of products and services were beamed to her eyes, slipping past at dizzying speed when she looked around. She took an uncertain step and a further wealth of shining goods appeared, so she took another step and another, drawn further in without realising it.

Darsey turned in small circles as she moved deeper, delighted by the sparkling offers around her. She looked down, half bemused, and then blanched at the sight between her feet. She seemed to be staring into an auction pit and a resigned slave gazed back up at her. A query appeared in response to her attention, asking whether she wanted to bid on the mutt being offered. She breathed in sharply and her com responded to her distress by instantly cutting the connection.

The hologram disappeared in a shower of sparks and Darsey's head snapped up so she could look beyond the images for the first time. She had just received an essential reminder that she was alone and still at risk. A stranger in a harsh world. The distractions of the selling hangar were dangerous and finding a passage home needed to be her priority.

She managed to ignore the bright patterns trying to intrude on her vision to concentrate on her com instead. Her simple query about the closest travel agent was answered at once. The com directed her to the far end of the echoing hangar.

Darsey peered toward that distant wall, past the floating pictures and into the shadows. The hangar ceiling sagged lower at the far end, angling closer to the floor. It was difficult to make out details, but the girders supporting it had dim shapes hanging from them. There seemed to be rows of boxes slung underneath. She frowned and her com enhanced the distant image to show huge crates swaying beneath the metal beams.

They were a range of sizes and shapes, each decorated differently, but all promoting wares for sale inside. Physical signs and real banners advertised what was being offered, making Darsey smile with delight. She felt an instant connection with the familiar presence of actual stores. She moved toward the back of the chamber with renewed enthusiasm.

However, when the hanging shops grew closer, their glamour started to fade. Their decorations looked increasingly dull and threadbare. The holograms still vying for her attention were much more vibrant.

Darsey hesitated, but her eye was caught by a swinging crate more brightly decorated than the rest. Its metal flanks were swathed in lengths of fabric, while its open front was a jumble of faded bolts of cloth. A sign above that crowded maw proudly proclaimed it to be 'The Bizarre Bazaar'.

Darsey reflected ruefully that such a title would suit the entire planet, but was still reassured by the quirky name of the brightly colored box swinging above her head. She looked down to check her com and it directed her further along the row toward a travel agent. However, she had no chance to follow that advice.

A hand seized Darsey roughly by the elbow. She was propelled forward, away from public view and into the darkness beneath the hanging shops. She leaned back against her attacker and dug in her heels, but hardly slowed at all. In less than a second her freedom was stolen again.

35

Old Acquaintance

Darsey twisted savagely in an effort to wrench free from the stranger. She spun and looked up into a face distorted by fury. She paused and breathed in sharply, struggling to control her com's surging battle mode. Her body quivered on the edge of lashing out, but her opponent was familiar.

"Wing?" she croaked, and got a snarl in response. "Nightwing? What the hell?"

"What... are... you... doing?" he panted, and she realized his anger was no act. His fury at seeing her here cut soul deep.

Darsey took a calming breath, but it was useless and, despite her best efforts, her own anger flared. "I'm escaping," she bit back. "All by myself, without any help, because, oh yes, there was no help."

Nightwing glared at her and in the sudden tense silence she heard his teeth grind together. Her temper rose further on a fresh swell of indignation. Words long unspoken crowded for release, but before she could tell the kres exactly what she thought of him he spun away.

He turned without explanation and stalked further into the darkness. Darsey knew she should walk away too and continue her escape, but she was spitting with fury. She strode after him instead, trusting her com to stop her from running into anything before her eyes could adjust.

Darsey slowed her pace when a dim figure appeared ahead and squared her shoulders, but before she could start shouting Wing moved. The grainy shadow of his arm punched forward to collect the greater darkness of the wall. His fist slammed into it and the concussion was deafening.

She flinched at the noise and the metal beneath her feet thrummed in response to the blow. There was another impact, louder than the first, which almost covered a furious shout from the kres. She struggled to keep her balance and to understand that primal cry of rage and frustration. Ahead of her, Wing pummelled the shuddering wall and the hangar rang like a bell in response.

The Bizarre Bazaar started to sway above their heads and Darsey ducked automatically when it swung past, but Wing spun to kick the now-buckling wall. He continued his assault in oblivious fury while the hanging shop started to oscillate wildly. Its supporting straps groaned and Darsey took the deepest breath she could, to yell with full com force, "Wing!"

Darsey's hands flew to cover her ears and Wing was thrown against the damaged wall. The echoes of his name rang around the station with ten times the force of his recent attack. "Drak," he swore, and clutched his head too.

Out in the brighter light of the hangar, the few shoppers who had stayed during the earlier disturbance stood frozen within their protective fields. Everyone was staring into the shifting shadows beneath the Bizarre Bazaar.

"Gods drakkit," Wing's lips shaped, but Darsey could hardly hear him. His face creased in pain and she would have felt guilty, if he didn't so thoroughly deserve it.

He shook his head, then closed his eyes against it instead, squeezing them tightly shut. "We kres have most sensitive ears," he eventually pointed out.

"I know," Darsey flashed back, but Wing ignored her attempt at provocation.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "Truly sorry. I left you feeling your escape was needed and I should have known you'd manage such. It's my failure that you're here. I should have thought forward and guessed that you'd best Jileea."

"I didn't," Darsey answered shortly, struggling with her emotions and Wing's unexpected apology. "Best Jileea, I mean. I made a trade with her instead. My freedom for a future favor and for you."

His eyes narrowed at her admission. "You offered me as trade?"

"Not exactly, but you're part of what she wants. So I suggest you get lost."

Darsey turned away without further explanation. She strode out of the drifting shadow cast by the still-swaying Bizarre Bazaar and away from the kres as fast as she could without running. She glanced up at the fabric shop when she passed beneath its open front and the worried face of its proprietor quickly disappeared behind a bolt of cloth. Along the line of hanging shops, other curious faces vanished just as fast, but she forgot them the moment Wing matched stride with her. She tried to ignore him, but he had the check to step in front of her and block her path.

"How did you trade me?"

Darsey managed to stop herself just shy of the loathsome alien. She glared up at him, but he looked completely unrepentant. Perhaps kres didn't feel guilty, even when they were back-stabbing weasels. She took a deep breath and hoped her voice wouldn't shake.

"So now you want to talk. Now that it's all about you. Well you're way too late. I don't want to talk to you ever again. I don't want to help you in any way. Nothing could induce me to spend a single, excruciating second longer in your company. Go. Away."

Darsey tried to walk around Wing, but he stepped sideways too and blocked her again. "Move," she ordered, and felt a rush of energy that matched her anger.

Wing stepped back a pace, so he must have seen she was combat ready, but then he stopped and held his ground anyway. "All you say is true. I won't ask more of your deal with Jileea, but please, most please, let me help. There's more of danger here than you might think. I found you because I bought word of you from a child. A boy called Malik saw passage energy when you first arrived and sold news of you through the station com. He called you mermaridian, but I bought the visual because I feared it might be you, and it's well that I did. It showed you passing through a guard rail and it might have been bought by any-all Rim scum."

He snorted in apparent disgust at such an idea, but Darsey wasn't so easily fooled. She started him down and tried not to flinch when his hand landed gently on her shoulder. "Instead, I paid the chick for his trace so that no other will see it. Is that not proof that I want you all-times safe? I truly want to find passage for you and see you set for home. I swear it."

Darsey backed away, tossing his hand off and Wing had the grace to look down.

"I'm shamed that I've earned such distrust." He looked up quickly as if sensing her anger flare. "I know I deserve it and I'll make no protest. My actions to you seemed cruel."

"They were cruel. You were cruel." Darsey stopped, breathing hard, and Wing actually offered a human nod in response.

"I know and I deeply regret it. I'll tell you all, explain everything, after a passage is safe booked. Agreed?"

"Do you really think you can explain abandoning me? Just walking out? And leaving me a slave?"

Wing sighed and shrugged a shoulder. "Probably not. Can we find a safe ship first and then you can judge all?"

"I don't think so. I can find my own ride and every second you spend with me brings Jileea closer. She placed a pretty obvious tracer in my com, after using some equally obvious reverse psychology to try to make me look for you." She offered Wing a challenging stare and flipped a hand to shoo him away. "So go. I know you don't want Jileea following you."

"I don't care," he said firmly. "I won't just leave, Darse. Not 'til you're safe-set for home. I owe you that and more."

Darsey stared along the row of shoddy shops and struggled to remember that the kres had already left her once. She needed to do this alone. "No. Depending on you is a bad habit. It never works out and it makes a mess of my self-reliance. So get lost, okay? Just go away. We both know you're good at that."

Darsey stepped around Wing and this time he let her go. She moved on unhindered, heading for a small shop, tethered high above them with a rope ladder dangling from its front. However, when she reached the ladder, she realized there was still someone close behind her. She swore under her breath and turned to face Wing again. "What?"

"Just a sugges-"

"Yes?" Darsey asked in an ominously clipped manner.

"Small travel agents are not best honest. They charge top credit and then book passage on any ship, even one on an opposite route. The worst will simply sell you to Harvesters. The smart move is to book direct with a ship's cargo senior. You can check the ship first. Its route, usual cargo, affiliations, past performance... they're all public knowledge. I can show you the station access."

Wing's reminder that Darsey could find herself in a slave pit again was instantly sobering. She was forced to face her own unavoidable ignorance and, although it galled her, to admit that she still needed him. She told herself she had no intention of relying on the kres again, not in any serious way, but using him? That was quite another matter. "All right," she agreed brusquely. "Show me."

Wing instantly turned away and backtracked toward the metal gantries. A frond twitched back over his shoulder to check that Darsey was following, so she kept close behind, almost on his heels. He stepped over the chasm with casual ease and dove back into the crowd as if challenging her to keep up.

Darsey's jaw set and she increased com power before leaping after him. He set a rapid pace, ducking and diving through the throng, jumping stairs and stepping onto railings to climb straight to higher levels. She had to push hard to keep up, but she managed and found their increasingly rushed passage unexpectedly thrilling.

Darsey took the risk of pushing past a mutt and finally drew level with Wing as they raced each other upwards, toward the outer shell of Gratuity. They reached the final superstructure together, but she swung round an upright post that marked the edge of the docking rim to land on its metal expanse first.

Wing hit that shiny surface a second later and they shared a grin. They'd halted at the foot of a ship's ramp and Wing turned to face it. Darsey stared past him, up an unusually long gangway to a giant, spiral seashell floating above.

"Are we there?" she asked, and was disturbed to hear the disappointment in her voice. Her smile disappeared and she stepped away from Wing.

His grin faded more slowly, but he stepped away too, increasing the distance between them.

"My recommendation, ye. Com says this is best." He turned and gestured toward the grimy metal tongue extended from Gratuity's latticework of passages to connect with the loading bay of the strange shell. Darsey looked up at that multi-colored hull with its odd patterns in renewed doubt.

"You're sure this is the best?"

"Certain-sure. There's not much of choice at the moment. Only Harvesters are docked, or the three t'ssaa ships on farside. Do you fancy such?" He raised an eyebrow at Darsey, but before she could answer, an energised disk flashed from the darkness of the ship's hold. It hummed and glinted once in the light as it slashed toward Wing's legs.

He leapt back and the weapon buried itself at his feet. "A sh-tar," he stated calmly while it sank into the dock with a hiss of steam and the stench of melted metal. He exchanged a glance with Darsey.

"Friendly," she said, but he just shrugged in response and turned back to the unwelcoming hold.

"Hey! Ship's owner!"

There was no answer. The oval opening at the top of that steep ramp was as dark and silent as ever. Darsey's breath escaped as a short, impatient snort, but Wing was undeterred.

"We bring trade," he called confidently into the silence.

She tipped her head to look up the ramp again and this time there was movement. She almost missed that faint stirring in the dark, when a sliver of black slipped out of the greater darkness behind it. A further fluid step brought the stranger into the light, but, surprisingly, it was no easier to see. Its outline shimmered when it moved from the darkness, shifting from black to a bewildering array of colors. The different shades blurred, then blended, to subtly mimic the environment behind it.

Darsey guessed that the creature's clothes must adapt to copy its surroundings. The camouflage was effective and she had to watch closely to track the alien's rapid progress down the ramp. It came to a halt a metre ahead of her and was instantly still. It vanished completely and, if she had missed its initial movement, she would never have noticed it. There was little to betray its position, not even the glimmer of its eyes.

However, the creature did have eyes and Darsey recognised them when they flicked toward Wing. They were surprisingly dark, with huge irises nearly as black as the alien's pupils. They would have shown as holes in the camouflage, if not for improbably long eyelashes. Darsey had a profile view of the strange captain and caught the flutter of multi-hued and feathered lashes when it risked a more open examination of Nightwing.

"What trade, male?" it demanded in a voice that, while curt, was surprisingly deep and mellow.

"Passage," Wing answered just as succinctly.

The only response was a clipped sound of obvious annoyance and the alien flickered into sight when he took a step back up the ramp. However, Wing raised his hand in quick reassurance and gestured at Darsey. "Not for both, just the female."

The alien halted again and there was a moment of silence and stillness before those dark eyes opened fully and turned to Darsey.

She made no effort to look inviting and scowled instead. She could feel Wing's frustration at her hostility and glared harder. Annoying the kres was unbelievably satisfying. However, the alien smiled at her response, to show an unexpected gleam of teeth against lips as gray and grimy as the loading ramp.

"A new species," he observed in a baritone that showed no trace of offence. He looked straight past her com's mermaridian glamour, with the insight of a natural expert in disguise. "I like her attitude."

"Amazing," Wing muttered, and matched Darsey's scowl with one of his own when she turned her glare on him. "Truly," he continued, "the rest of her is equally pleasant."

Her eyes narrowed in disbelief at such criticism from the person who had so recently sold her.

"Slaver," she hissed, but was unable to say more before he threw back his own insult.

"Dumb gat."

"Excuse," the alien interrupted, but Wing ignored him.

"I'm no slaver and you ignore me more-on-more than any-"

"I ignore you. Arrogant pig."

"Arrogant? Justly proud perhaps-"

"Yeah, we're all proud of your selfless compassion."

"What's 'pig' anyway?"

"You are and a jackass too-"

"Excuse." There was a brief, charged silence and then two heads turned together to sight the alien.

All Darsey could see clearly was a pair of heavily fringed eyes, which widened further while they studied her. "You wish passage, female?"

She tensed, but then sagged when all tension left her. She felt strangely flat, and shrugged without looking back to Wing. "I suppose."

The alien chuckled in response and Darsey watched him warily, but still started when a hand appeared in mid-air before her. Its coloring changed from an exact copy of what was behind it to a startling blue that fluoresced to green around its now clear outline. The alien twitched three of his visible fingers, beckoning her closer and Darsey moved cautiously forward to step onto the ramp.

She used the faintest of outlines that seemed to trace the alien's head to judge that he was actually not much taller than herself. The newly visible hand moved again, this time stretching out toward her. It stopped, palm up, in clear invitation.

Darsey hesitated, but only briefly, before offering her own hand. Those alien eyes continued to study her intently as surprisingly warm and smooth fingers closed around hers. Darsey looked down in astonishment while the alien drew her hand closer.

Her eyes confirmed what her fingers had already told her. She was touching skin, oddly colored skin, but bare skin all the same. She had only a second to wonder about the rest of his body before she was distracted by distorted movement. The alien's head ducked forward, over her hand, and she tensed when her arm seemed to disappear beneath his camouflaged body. There was a sensation of air passing over her knuckles and the clear sound of sniffing.

"What the-?" Darsey protested, and he instantly dropped her hand before straightening and backing up the ramp.

There was another moment of stillness when he stopped, to disappear against the background again. Darsey took a shaky breath, and then retreated down the ramp to reassuringly level ground.

"Definitely no kres," the alien's voice stated, and Darsey shook her head vehemently.

"No," she confirmed with deliberate emphasis.

There was another flash of teeth from above. "Good. You have some days 'til ovulation, but I will accept passage any-all. Four thousand credits."

Wing hissed in outrage at the price, but Darsey hardly heard him. She was too busy being outraged herself while simultaneously trying to work out if the alien was right. She'd lost her contraception along with her med-chip and she realized that the outrageous merchant was probably correct. She accepted his judgment with an internal shrug. She may have been fertile again, but that fact was presently irrelevant and likely to be irrelevant for some time.

However, the alien's sexual interest in her was a cause for concern. Even Wing seemed to agree and abruptly turned her away from the ramp. He took her by the elbow to steer her back into Gratuity.

"What happened?" Darsey wondered, and he glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

"The deal for passage is done. I'd normally barter more with a ch't'kar, that price was high-as, but we've no time. I'm busy and your ride will lift as soon as the ch't'kar has it prepped."

"Wait, wait, wait," she protested, and dug in her heels against his steady pressure on her elbow.

The kres cursed under his breath and retained a firm grip on her arm, but his other hand, which was against the small of her back, stopped pushing her forward. Despite the halt, she could feel his impatience. The set of his body and the tension in the fingers now around her wrist, their strength held rigidly in check, all screamed of impatience.

"What?" he demanded, and, although the clipped word was quiet, it carried the emotional force of a shout.

Darsey turned toward him, but slowly, and her free hand rose to cover a deliberate yawn. She expected further anger, but Wing sighed instead.

"All right," he conceded, and relaxed a little. He was still poised to move, but ready to give her at least a moment's attention. "Darsey, I'm sorry. I know he seems strange. Truly, all ch't'kar are odd. To us herd sentients anyway."

Darsey tilted her head in surprise. "Herd sentients?"

"Ye. People used to living in groups. Like us."

"But not like these ch't'kar?"

Wing nodded a finger. "Ye, they're a loner species and most territorial. They meet only to mate and the males can be very aggressive. Your owner lives alone on his ship and will be wary of letting other males aboard, especially a kres."

"Yeah, I noticed he didn't like you. At least he has good taste."

Wing frowned, but Darsey offered him her sweetest smile and he sighed. "It's true enough. Ch't'kar hate the way we kres can sense their where-at. Their camouflage is vital to them, their most evolved form of protection, but it's completely useless with kres."

Darsey almost asked why, before remembering that Wing's fronds sensed longer wavelengths than the visible spectrum. "Ch't'kar camouflage doesn't work in infrared."

"No, so we can see them clear-as. They've no brainwave shielding either, so we can read them easy-as too. They hate that and avoid us even more than other species."

"I repeat, good taste. So why has this loner agreed to take me? Just because I'm a member of the opposite sex?"

"That and the money. He's asking top credit, curse him."

Wing's answer was less reassuring than Darsey had hoped. "But he is keen on the fact that I'm female, right? He's not hoping to breed with me, is he?" she asked with growing concern, but Wing shook his head, very slowly and carefully as if the human gesture was profoundly unnatural.

"No," he said simply, without the condescension he would once have shown for such ignorance. "Reproduction between sentient species doesn't work. No offspring have ever been produced, not in any combination, and the gentik have tried many times. Their best was to tie in a few genes and even that was a disaster. They put fronds in mermaridian and made the Beserks, who are most-times so wild they're useless. No, be easy minded. Natural sex leads nowhere and the ch't'kar has no such plan."

"He might not expect children, but trying could still be fun," she pointed out and the wretched kres responded with a grin.

"Could," he agreed, and she twisted away from his grasp.

"That's my point," Darsey snapped. "I don't want Captain Be-a-Mate-or-Walk-the-Plank thinking those sorts of happy thoughts. Not if they involve me."

"Trust me, thoughts involving you are seldom happy." Wing raised an eyebrow at her, but instead of anger she was swept by something much more sad and bitter.

"Trust you? Again? Never."

Wing's face set hard and he stepped away from Darsey. "I'm sorry you feel so. Just stay with me til you lift. That way, I can see you safe, whether you believe me or not-" He broke off abruptly and his fronds bushed wide. "Perhaps it's too late for explanations, but I do have a gift for you, Darse. Something that will keep you safe."

She frowned, trying to resist his surprisingly contagious and completely unexpected smile, but his grin simply widened.

"You'll like this," he guaranteed, and looked down at his com. His fingers and mind were momentarily busy as he accessed its most secure levels, then a shining band dropped into his hand. Her breath caught in her throat when he opened his fingers to reveal a familiar circle of gold.

"My com," Darsey whispered, before she could stop herself. Her cheeks flushed and she looked up quickly to see if Wing had heard. "I mean, your spare com," she amended, but he was still smiling hugely.

"No more." Wing stretched forward and passed the wrist band to Darsey.

She accepted it carefully, curling her fingers slowly around it, scared to believe that such a gift was real. It felt reassuringly firm and cool when she opened it and pressed it around her wrist. It snapped into place and any sense of cold, inert metal vanished when warmth surged up her arm. She gasped and closed her eyes against that wave of energy. The com's embrace was overwhelming and she had to struggle to stand quite still, senses tingling, while she adapted to it.

"Good?" Wing asked quietly, but to Darsey's newly sensitive ears his question was a shout.

"Oh, yeah." She stood still for another moment, before gently flexing her wrist. The silver com that Jileea had given her was thrown clear and clattered across the gridded walkway. It skidded over a ragged metal edge and disappeared. A series of fading chimes marked its fall past other gangways and on toward Gratuity's heart. Darsey looked up and offered Wing a completely genuine smile. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome." His grin was briefly dazzling, but abruptly faltered. He must have felt her suspicion return. "What's wrong?"

Darsey struggled to hold onto her smile, but the joy behind it was gone. "It doesn't matter," she said, and tried to believe that. "I can guess why you gave me your spare com and it's a fair trade. You don't want Jileea following you and now her tracer is gone, along with my old com. That's a win-win exchange, so good for you."

"Darsey," he protested and stopped, as if briefly lost for words. "There's no... no motive here. Jileea means naught to me and I've no fear of her interference. She can follow or not, I don't care. Even if I did, I'd never make such a trade to stop her. There'd be cheaper ways, truly. That com is not my spare. I kept it secret-safe because it's precious. It was created with our latest technology. It is the best, most advanced military device we kres have and even the Arck is without one."

"Then how come you had it?" Darsey asked sharply. She stiffened when the kres stepped closer in response, and then froze completely when he leaned down until his lips touched her ear.

"I'm in-mission," he whispered, so softly that only her com-enhanced hearing could separate the words. "Recruited by the Shadows. My success will force the Arck's pardon. He'll grant it reluctantly, but if I render great service to all kres he won't be able to deny it. I must learn what the t'ssaa want from my people. They've been stalking us for three years past and I've been sent to find all. I can't match their numbers, but my best advantage is that com."

Wing stopped and one of his fronds curled around Darsey's throat. Its soft touch initiated a mental connection that surprised them both. She could feel his amazed relief and beyond it a strong sense of conviction. There were no words in their contact, just emotions, but the strongest by far was honesty. He wanted her to believe him and he made a frond-wrenching effort to open his mind to hers.

The communion was incomplete, but he still managed to share enough of himself to convince Darsey that his story was true. This was Wing at his most vulnerable and their closeness continued, growing until it threatened to carry them both into a completely unwanted intimacy.

Darsey broke free first, stepping away to back up to the far side of the walkway. Wing's frond collapsed when she broke the contact, to lie flat and limp across his shoulder. His jaw clenched and a trickle of blood ran from behind his left ear, where that frond was attached.

Darsey shuddered, but her concern was for Wing as much as herself. "You okay?" she asked in a shaking voice, and he managed a tight smile of reassurance. "Good. Alright. I believe you. I believe everything. But why give me the com? It's your protection and your responsibility."

"Certain-sure," he agreed, sounding just as shaken. "It's hard to explain in words. Even harder without words," he admitted with a rueful grin. "It's just... I know you can't trust me. Not easily and I've no time to argue that now. The most I can do to fix what passed between us is to trust you instead. So, this is the most trust I can give. Darsey, I want you to all-time keep my com. All I ask is that you melt it, if you're ever caught. Don't let others take it. It will self-liquefy if you think the melt order while feeling most scared."

"Whoa," Darsey snapped, even as her hand closed protectively around the com. "Don't tell me things like that and don't just give me your state-of-the-art gadgets. You don't have the right to start acting all self-sacrificing now. You have to stick with mean and selfish, because that's what you are and I am not keeping this-"

Her fingers tightened against the com, but, before she could order its release, Wing jumped at her. He leapt the width of the walkway to snatch her round the waist and spin them both back into the shadows of the port entrance.

"What?" she hissed, following his gaze to look down through the gridded floor. Several levels below their feet, a group was emerging from the thinning crowd.

"Drak, it's the t'ssaa," Wing stated with quiet vehemence.

"T'ssaa? Which t'ssaa?"

Wing spared her a distracted look. "Payiss and his crew."

"You mean that frill-for-brains who tried to buy you from Greon?"

Wing was accessing his com, but still smiled at Darsey's description of the t'ssaa leader. "The same. I planted a trace residue in the cells he harvested from me, so I knew he was Gratuity bound. His ship's docked and security has Payiss tracked to... the Hub. This group scans as from his crew, drakkit."

Darsey looked down again, trying to follow the fluid movement of the t'ssaa.

"Isn't that good?" she whispered. "I thought you were hunting them."

"Ye," he agreed, "but I don't want that turned ditto, with them hunting me."

Wing looked back to Darsey and frowned. "I needs must go. Can you get back safe to the ch't'kar ship?" He grimaced at himself and lifted an apologetic hand before Darsey could answer. "Of course you can." He paused awkwardly and glanced down past his feet again. "So... fare you well then."

Darsey folded her arms. "You're joking."

"Err... no."

"Yes," she informed him with quiet certainty. "You are joking if you think you can just gift me your secret spy stuff, hint that there's more going on than I know, say goodbye and then run off. You owe me some answers. Lots of answers, and I intend to get them."

"Darsey," Wing said just as quietly and firmly, "I truly need to go."

"Fine." She nodded absently, but her mind was racing. If she was finally going to escape this place... if it was true and Wing could really be trusted... then she needed all the information she could get, to take back home. "I'll go with you. There's still time before my ship lifts."

She turned and strode away from the approaching t'ssaa. Wing was momentarily frozen, but then leapt to follow her. "I can interrogate you as we go," she pointed out, and he groaned.

"Sounds fun-as," he answered brusquely, and glanced at his wrist. "No more time for asking. We need total speed now."

Wing took off and Darsey mentally punched her com into combat mode to follow. She flew around the curved docking ring after him and it was impossible to hear any pursuit over the pounding of her boots, but Wing called back, "they're close."

Darsey picked up her pace, becoming a blur as she leapt over cargo piles waiting for loading, and Wing had to accelerate to keep up.

"Next off," he panted and she veered back toward the exits.

They dove into a transport tube together and were instantly falling. Darsey cried out in shock, but Wing grabbed her by the wrist before his com fired a braking thrust. They slowed, but were still falling way too fast toward a vortex of people below them.

Most of the tube was filled by aliens fluttering between levels, but Wing's com pulsed repeatedly to manoeuvre them safely past the slower traffic. They continued to drop at speed, coms firing a warning to the swearing individuals they hurtled past. It took only seconds to fall to the surface of the planet.

Darsey flinched when its darkened soil leapt into focus. She had an instant to realize they were about to slam into that chilly earth before Wing braked hard. Her arm was ripped over her head, but the ground was still hurtling at them.

Wing's com fired again and slowed them just enough to sweep sideways, away from an immediate collision. They were still travelling too fast to stop, but shot into another tunnel instead, one that drilled deeper yet beneath the surface of the planet. They plunged into a dim and bustling well, where Wing had to slow them again in order to work through the crowd. He looked across to Darsey with a reckless smile.

"They won't catch us now. They'll need to be more discreet and more slow. Station powers have no love of t'ssaa."

"Good," Darsey managed, before her breath was stolen by another rapid drop.

Wing steered them into another side passage that fell diagonally toward the heart of the planet. It was less crowded and they dropped to its steeply sloping steel floor, to slide deeper into the station. They gained momentum, sweeping up one side of the tube and then the other as they worked past fellow travellers. The people they swung past were increasingly slow, clearly braking for the end of the trip, but Wing continued at a reckless pace.

"Make ready to roll," he shouted at Darsey, and she started to protest, but the end of the tunnel was suddenly ahead and it was too late to stop.

She braced herself as they shot from the exit and into a small plaza. The square space was busy, but not so crowded that people had no room to move, and they scattered when Darsey and Nightwing flew through the air. The ground rushed up once more and she threw herself forward to meet it, tucking into a somersault when she landed, to absorb the impact. She came to their feet beside Wing amid an ominous silence. Flustered onlookers picked themselves up, while other disturbed shoppers stared balefully at the source of their disruption.

"Just passing by," Nightwing said with firm authority and strolled forward into the crowd.

There were some resentful rumblings when he pushed past, but no one made any move to stop him. Darsey followed quickly, trying to project the same aura of confidence and invulnerability. She was allowed to pass unhindered and the two of them hurried toward a pillared exit from the square. They stepped through it, pushing into a moving crowd again, and entered a cavernous space that was filled with buildings.

Darsey drew in a sharp breath at the sight ahead. Walls towered above them, a close-packed mass of buildings tall enough to belong in the centre of any large city on Earth. They formed a patchwork of stone and metal that rose toward an icy roof hundreds of metres above. She was staring at a cityscape sandwiched into a single rocky bowl. The distant ceiling was hung with massive stalactites that looked like pins scattered in place of stars. They seemed tiny compared to the buildings rising like stalagmites beneath. Nature on Gratuity was dwarfed by the constructs of sentient life.

"The Hub." Wing sniffed in quick dismissal. He looked down at his com and nodded to the left.

Darsey followed closely while he dodged his way down wide steps toward conveyor belts that disappeared into the city. Clanking metal scales overlapped with grinding imprecision in an endless loop that carried people into the Hub.

Darsey eyed them doubtfully as she approached, but Wing pushed his way straight on and she followed without further hesitation. The ride was rough, rising and falling unpredictably so that she was soon glad of the close-packed bodies around them. However, she was even gladder when Wing pulled her across to the travelator's far side and gestured that they should jump. An alley was approaching below them and they launched themselves into it.

The drop was further than Darsey was used to, but she still landed lightly. She shook her head and brushed a finger gratefully across her com. Wing had found his feet just as easily and urged her forward.

They hurried into the shadows of a slim space between massive buildings. Dark stone walls, embedded with strips of metal, drew close on either side. The gap between them narrowed as the pair moved deeper, until they had to turn sideways to continue. "Where are we going?" Darsey whispered, just as Wing stopped to check his com.

"Inside," he answered, even more quietly, before turning his attention to the blank face of the foundations in front of them. They appeared to be made of solid blocks, but he raised his com confidently to those dark stones. He had to twist awkwardly to access the band on his wrist, trying to read its display despite being pressed between two walls, but he somehow managed.

"Ye, here. A service way," he murmured to Darsey. "It's been secured, but I can break through."

"Breaking and entering," she agreed softly, and Wing grinned before pressing his display against the building.

"We hope." His smile faded and his expression became intent as his mind and fingers started their analysis. His hands danced over the featureless rock and slowly a border appeared beneath them. A gold-lined square gleamed from the wall and light spilled along the alley.

Darsey raised her own com and the betraying energy disappeared, hidden behind a dark glamour. Their narrow space grew increasingly claustrophobic, but the blackness was brief. Wing broke the security code and punched though the energy field. It vanished to reveal an open service way, pulsing with color. Rivers of energy flowed into the building, twisting through the passage walls.

However, Wing hesitated and gave Darsey a considering look. "This may be your last time to leave-" he offered, but something in her expression stopped him. "Kay. So let's hunt t'ssaa."

He levered himself into the service way and she followed close behind. The entrance obeyed his command to seal and her ears popped, while she crawled on into a rainbow.

36

The Dance Goes On

Arck Sharpeye, ruler of the kres Empire and the magnificence of his people, was lost for words. He blinked sleep-crusted eyes and tried to focus on a com display of his wife.

Arkyss Glowdrift smiled sweetly back, but her eyes were vague and wandered away from her husband's. "The night's so bright," she called happily, plucking at the front of her frilled nightgown. "And the space-down ships most loud. Have they always been so loud, Sharpy?"

"Where are you?" he finally thought to ask, still mystified by his wife's unexpected call in the middle of the night and her sudden sensitivity to the sound of landing spacecraft.

"The spaceport roof for sure."

He had to take a moment to compose himself before he could answer calmly. "Why?"

"Because the stars are so lovely." The Arkyss' voice softened from a happy trill to a seductive lilt. "You could join us. Drag your magnificence this way and we'll dance. Dance night-long to the spaceship roar. We're all so happy. Come dance with us."

"Us?" he snapped with sudden suspicion, but she laughed in response.

"My sweet Broadbill and his boys," she answered, identifying her bodyguards. "Silly Arck. Billy won't dance, though. Come and make him. You're good at that."

Sharpeye raised his com to his lips, even though such proximity was completely unnecessary. He spoke slowly and very clearly, with clipped precision. "Dear one, tell sweet Billy that I'll make him dance for all-time unless he brings you back to the palace right now. The stars above the Summer Tower are most clear tonight. I'll have the roof made flat so that you can sleep, or dance, or any such from there."

"The Summer Tower," his wife squealed with delight, and the Arck massaged the back of his neck.

"Indeed."

"It's perfect-as."

'I thought such.'

"With the roof made flat and beds all over?"

"Certain-sure. You can order all as you wish."

There was a brief silence and, when the Arkyss answered, her voice was calmer and more wistful than normal. "You know, Sharpeye, I like being pregnant."

The Arck hesitated too and heard a clear click when his wife cut the communication. He shut his lips tight in response, too tight for speech. He had to mentally enter a curt query to the senior court healer. Despite the hour, the response was immediate. An older kres appeared above the Royal com, brushing tousled gray and black hair back from his forehead. "Sire, yes, Sire, I assure you all is well. The Arkyss is healthful, Magnificence. She is... ah... vague, to be sure, but no more so than usual. The pregnancy progresses true flight and your son grows well."

The Arck responded with a cold look, his jaw still locked tight. Be very sure, he thought with full force, and flipped a finger to dismiss the healer.

Sharpeye took several deep breaths and managed to regain his calm. The thought that his son might be at risk, that he might be born a horror as Goldown had been, terrified him, but he pushed such fears away. The senior healer had been fully warned and this pregnancy was being closely monitored. This time the Arck was in charge, not the BGP, and he was determined that everything would happen exactly as he wished.

Sharpeye cleared his throat and placed a com connection to his head of security. "Raptor," he said without preamble, "the council has agreed to invest my unborn son as Arck-in-Waiting. He is formally named as Arkyn Hawkeye FarFlight."

"Congratulations, Sire."

"Indeed. With a new Arkyn in-favor, my nephew is now superfluous. Even the Safe Successioners agree. Release the rest of the mercenary fleet. Soon-as. I want Freefall struck and his head at my feet."

"As-said so done, Sire. Be most at ease, for the Grace will die."

37

Cold Blooded

Wing checked his com readings carefully in the flickering light of the service way. They were quickly positive for t'ssaa, but took longer to finish a deeper and more careful scan that identified Payiss. He nodded to Darsey, who was crouched next to him in the confined space. They were pressed against the camouflaged end of a secondary conduit that took energy through to private chambers.

Only a cheap security field separated them from the t'ssaa in the next room. Wing jammed his com hard against the energy sleeve protecting their hiding place. It took less than a minute for him to reprogramme the field and make it porous to sound waves coming from the chamber.

A hissing instantly filled the service way and Darsey started against his arm. He offered her an apologetic look while t'ssaa laughter echoed down their passage. Payiss' voice boomed confidently after it.

"You are right, Maker. T'ssaa are most strong and hiring you iz strange."

"Yes, yes, indeed," a much softer voice answered and Darsey leaned forward, past Wing's arm as if straining to hear. "We understand, Lord Client, that your need for our services is trivial. However, having said such, we must assume some need, hmmm? You'd not pay for our expertise without some small, passing reason. To see best results, we must encourage full disclosure. No offence is meant and total privacy is assured, Lord."

"Gentik," Wing informed Darsey, and she leaned closer still, to whisper in his ear.

"Can they hear us?"

"No," he assured her. "The field is still intact and will only pass sound this way. The soft voice with the lilting accent is gentik. They're a gentle folk, but most expert at gene manipulation. I dislike what this meeting shadows." He fell silent again, just as Payiss reluctantly agreed to be candid with the gentik.

"Full truth iz ssimple. T'ssaa are not made for cold. Cold of sspase, cold of sstrange worldz with ssingle ssunz... all are harsh and hard. It takess much com charge to keep our sspeed in such."

"Ah," the gentle voice mused, and there was a prolonged murmur of quiet consultation. "My colleagues and I understand. Your metabolism slows too quick as temperatures fall. You have to rely on your coms for body heat. Your species is cold-blooded-"

The gentik's observation became a sudden squawk. However, his protest was brief and silence quickly followed it. There was no noise at all, no hint of what was happening, until Wing connected his com to the energy screen again. He took the risk of thinning it further, so that light could pass through to them. Darsey leaned past his shoulder to stare at the room beyond the service way.

A t'ssaa with its crest thrown wide in display was gripping a taller, thinner figure by the neck.

"Payiss," Nightwing identified the assailant, as scaled, green fingers tightened in the gentik's throat.

Payiss managed to loom over the tottering geneticist, despite being shorter than him. There were four other gentik present, but they made no effort to intervene. They knelt quietly on the shabby carpet, flanked by nine t'ssaa, whose crests were still flat, but stirring ominously.

"Never ssay such again," Payiss ordered with clenched fury, and shook the gentik for emphasis. "Never." He released his victim, who fell to the floor, shaking and gagging.

His gentik companions moved for the first time, carefully shuffling closer to their injured leader. They murmured sympathy and one cautiously proffered a regen strip. Payiss slapped his thigh in impatient encouragement and they dared to move closer still, helping their leader to rise and getting him as far as his knees.

"We will pay most well," the t'ssaa leader offered carelessly, with no attempt to apologise.

The gentik had to clear his throat several times before he could answer.

"W-well and good, Lord Client. I must warn you it will take much credit. Your choice of kres is wise. They are well adapted to an icy world and have no care of cold. However, your species are most distinct and it will take time, many generations even, to introduce such traits predictably."

The t'ssaa blinked rapidly in amusement and laughed again, a hissing susurration that carried clearly to the energy duct.

"Time? Time is nothing to the clutch. Our sspawn must be fast in all temperature, but until then we are patient. We know how to hibernate. How to be sstill and wait for our goals. Is time the only constraint? Can you do it?"

Darsey leaned even further to catch the soft gentik response. She pressed close to Wing, which would have been distracting if not for the t'ssaa's response.

"Absolutely, Lord Client. We can achieve whatever you wish, with sufficient experiments. You have guaranteed access to all the t'ssaa DNA we need, but what of the kres? They will never agree to such and their race is difficult about selling tissue. This type of manipulation would be most easy with sperm or eggs. Can you-?"

"Of course," Payiss interrupted. "We have identified a ssource of both. The eggs are presently in grip. We have bought a female and ssoon we will hold ssperm too. The donor was difficult, but ssteps have been taken. His resistance is nothing."

Wing looked at Darsey in alarm and she grimaced back before he turned back to the room. The t'ssaa blinked happily down at the gentik.

"We can provide fresh testes. Do you require one or two?"

"Mmmm?" the gentik asked gently. "Oh both, definitely. I mean, we could make do with one, but a pair is always better."

Wing shuddered against Darsey and realized that she was shaking too. The t'ssaa's confidence was frightening. He spoke as though Wing was already caught. How the hail could he be so sure of that? Wing stiffened and Darsey's eyes widened, so it seemed she'd reached the same conclusion.

"They traced me," Wing hissed, even as Darsey started to scan him with her com. "But I was watching while they examined me. They had no chance-"

"Here," Darsey said brusquely, and her wrist stopped before the gold blade of his nose. He saw a cell-sized transmitter projected by the scanner and groaned.

"Drak, that bustwing left it when he hit me."

"Can I neutralise it?"

"Certain-sure. Just dose it with a targeted electromagnetic pulse. Quick-as, Darse. Our scaly friend is instructing his crew to take some care castrating me."

Wing locked his jaw against further words. There was no point lecturing Darsey and he turned his attention back to the t'ssaa conversation. He could hear the hunters closing in as they relayed their progress to the leader.

Darsey's hand hovered over the energy fleck hidden under his skin, while her com hummed faintly. He hoped her electromagnetic pulse disabled the tiny tracer in time. If not, returning to the docks would involve wading through reptiles and unfortunately t'ssaa were among the most fearsome warriors in space.

Wing ordered his wrist band to combat mode just before the t'ssaa's voice rose to a sandstorm hiss.

"Say once more," Payiss demanded of his com, and his spines stiffened to start spreading the crest against his neck. "What do you mean you losst him?"

"The ssignal sstopped, Father," a tiny projection protested, and the leader's crest quivered in angry warning. "We will find it, Father. We were closing on your possition. The ssignal was transmitting near you. We should have the prey trapped."



The t'ssaas' crests exploded into full display, flying forward and up in a blaze of gold and blue and the gentik abased themselves as quickly as they could. DisRaya the Maker, ranked lowest in the class threw himself onto his face, but didn't hide his eyes like the others. He raised his head just enough to look round. Beside him the Professor had buried his face in the tattered carpet and the Maker hid a sneer.

The t'ssaa whirled and spun above him and he flinched when they stamped past, searching for threat. Every crest was spread wide, although none stood as high or bright as that of their leader, the only adult male.

"The kres must have tracked me," Payiss hissed. "He is sstill near. Search the building. Sstart with sservise ways." He turned and his arm rose with blurred speed as he aimed his wrist.

His com fired and the other gentik wailed when smoke and sparks filled the room. The Maker bit back a whimper, bolstered by his disgust at his better bred classmates.

The blast destroyed most of a wall, to leave the once-hidden service way gaping and dribbling energy onto a shattered floor. The geneticists huddling close to each other, but the Maker ignored them, as they ignored him. The lowest student gazed openly at the t'ssaa, who were completely preoccupied by their hunt.

The reptiles charged to surround the twisted tunnel, but it was empty. The t'ssaa examined it with smooth caution anyway and their smallest warrior looked quickly around the steaming edge of the breach. It drew its crested head back with sinuous grace and its tongue flickered before rising in assent.

"Kres was here, Father. Not long past. Kres and ssomething other. An unknown trace."

Payiss ducked to leap through the cooling rent without further hesitation. "Other does not matter," he spat. "The kres is ours. But remember, aim clear and high. Shoot only for his head." The Leader's crest vibrated to give an ominous undertone to his warning and the nine followers lowered their stiff manes to show obedience. He gestured sharply and they joined him with ease.

They flowed into the service tunnel and spaced themselves automatically. The leader started to run and the others followed at a crouch. Their headlong advance was silent apart from the occasional rattle of extended crests and the hissing of breath. Their tongues flickered, only sometimes red against green in the changing light, as they tracked their prey.

The Maker watched them go, before quietly pressing his nose to the threadbare floor. He lay perfectly still, until the other gentik finally dared to move. The t'ssaa were long gone by the time they cautiously lifted their heads. Another slow, silent moment passed before the Professor half-rose.

He checked his students, making passing eye contact with the Maker, then shuffled on his knees toward the gaping hole that used to be a service way. He unbent slowly until he could lean into that tunnel, still half crouched and wary of any danger.

"Professor," one of his team whispered diffidently, but he started anyway and knocked his head against the sagging ceiling of the service way.

"Drak," he swore at the pain and the Maker hid a smile at the outburst.

The Professor looked back toward his students with a shocked expression. "Forgive my ill manners. Such language! I surely regret showing so much aggression. It was shameful."

"Please don't mind, Professor," the first speaker answered softly, wringing her hands anxiously. "The fault was mine, to scare you so."

"No, no. No fault is laid, my child," he responded, and they bowed to each other in ritual exchange of forgiveness. The Maker had to look away, while his gut churned.

"What did you wish, First Student?" the leader asked softly.

"Professor, this hunt by the t'ssaa is a likely source of danger. Should we perhaps call our guardians and leave?"

"Yes, yes, a good idea. See to such, my dear ShaDalRonyn. And while we wait, we shall seek for samples."

The Professor had the instant interest of his team, but the Maker silently cursed. He'd hoped the rug hugging fools had missed the t'ssaa's comments, but the old man remained sharp. Still, it was possible the Professor had missed the important part. The Maker puffed out his chest and pushed forward past his classmates.

"Gene matter from a kres," he announced loudly, but the senior gentik frowned at his suggestion.

"That is partly true, DisRaya, but if you wish to earn your chosen name of Maker, you must remain more alert." The Professor's smile returned and he beamed around at the rest of his students. "The kres for sure. Such DNA is always of interest, but what is most of interest here?" He smiled complacently at the grazers milling around the Maker, but they lowered their eyes in respectful thought.

ShaDalRonyn, who had finished asking the guardians to fetch them, was the first to look up. "Professor?"

"Yes, Dal? For what shall we search?"

She smiled diffidently and bobbed her head. "Perhaps the 'unknown trace' the t'ssaa found."

"Yes, yes. Very good indeed." The Professor turned back to the service way and his eyes, one orange and one brown, held identical gleams of excitement when they flicked past the Maker. "Don't press so close, DisRaya. Take more care. The young t'ssaa scented an unknown species. Some creature it had never met. A new pet mayhaps, or even a creature of weapons-grade potential?" He turned back toward the ragged tunnel and his students crowded close behind. "Find this strange species," he gasped in breathless encouragement. "Find its genes, my dears, and quick. The hunt is on."

"Most fast, Professor," the Maker agreed, holding back his classmates with rude enthusiasm and then suddenly throwing himself at the ruined serviceway. However, before the others could join him, he staggered back with a thin wail.

The rest of the group blanched and stepped away, except for the Professor, who managed to step forward and support his distressed student.

"What is wrong, DisRaya?" the teacher demanded irritably, and his trembling pupil held up a bloody hand in response. "Tssk, you've cut it quite deep on that ragged edge. Hold still while I apply regen." The senior gentik glanced at the now-bloodstained opening beside him and sighed. "You've also contaminated any samples we might have gained. I'm sorry, but I must grade you at F for this field trip."

The Maker groaned in response, but made no other protest. Instead, he sank to the floor, hunched over his injured hand. The group re-gathered, but all turned their backs to him and consequently missed his careful survey of the tissue he had claimed before he had deliberately sliced his hand. He kept his head down, as he always did in class, and smiled with quiet satisfaction.

38

Drafted

Clearwing held herself very still, resisting the impulse to shudder when seamed hands ran lightly up her bare arms and came to rest on her shoulders. Aged fingers flexed with surprising strength to hold her hard while a final scan swept her body. This time, she did flinch and the old male behind her clucked sympathetically. '

"We're near done," he promised, and released one of her shoulders to offer it a quick pat.

"Don't fuss so, Sparrow," Lady Grace ordered from her seat in front of Clear. "Pinion is a fleet officer and can stand a little scan."

"Certain-sure," Clear gasped as the surprisingly invasive study finished with a final burst.

Bureau Senior Sparrow released her and she staggered before managing to stand alone again. She shook her head, settling her braids and bringing the world around her back into focus. She was deep within the quarters assigned to the BGP and surrounded by the sparse comfort of Lady Grace's inner sanctum.

The old geneticist clearly preferred a practical environment, with few reminders of wealth or rank. The furnishings were attractive, but subdued and only Lady Grace's chair had the high back associated with the senior echelons of any kres department. The old leader sat slumped within its adequate, rather than lavish, support, intent upon the results of Clear's scan.

"I would like to make an official complaint," the younger kres announced, in a louder voice than she intended.

Lady Grace's lips pursed, but she finished studying the results before looking up. Her eyes were hooded as she opened an official file and her fronds invited Clear to continue.

"I needs-must make complaint over the security used by BGP staff in-flight. The Bureau is a guest of Leader FarFlight, but their gratitude for this hospitality is little shown when subjecting his officers to deeply invasive scans. I request an apology to the Sector Leader for this aggressive examination."

Clear managed to stand straighter as she finished, but her hair twisted in its plaits and she was unable to meet Lady Grace's gaze. In contrast, the leader of the BGP seemed unconcerned. The wrinkles around her mouth twitched to show amusement and she flicked a finger to cut the official recording.

The connect light vanished from the ship's main console and the old lady hitched herself forward with a rustle of gray skirts. Clear braced herself again, ready for whatever the old kres wanted to keep from the record, but her tone was more exasperated than angry. "Thanks for your contribution, Data Senior. It encourages me that you can leave your comfort zone when angered for your leader, but... your clothes. Do you always wear such?"

Clear found herself gaping at the unexpected question. She looked down at her black stretch top and leggings in surprise. They were clean, tidy and completely unremarkable. Only their purple piping marked her as a Royal Fleet officer. "It's my uniform," she pointed out uncertainly, and her answer brought a quick hiss from the old lady.

"I've eyes, child, and brain enough to know such. I also know that you were down-shift when summoned. Why wear full uniform in your off-time? Does it serve as sleep robes too? Or did you ignore my orders to come as-is and instead waste time on changing?"

"I... that is..." Clear floundered momentarily before realising that the strange questions were supposed to confuse her. She was under attack by a long-term survivor of the kres court and her best chance of finding out why was to stay calm. She clamped down on fear and uncertainty, then used her com to recall each question she had been asked. "I'm an officer of the Royal Fleet and I dress as such, Lady. I have yet to sleep this down-shift and yet to dress for sleep, so there was no need to change. I followed your orders in every way." She offered a conciliatory salute and then froze again, this time holding the old lady's gaze.

Grace's eyes were more hooded than ever, their lids falling until she seemed to be asleep. "Excellent," she husked. "Your obedience is good, if somewhat belated. It is also needed. Unbraid your hair."

Despite her resolution not to panic, Clear's confusion returned. "My hair, Lady?"

The old kres' head snapped up and her eyes flew open. Their faded gold still carried a steely resolve that silenced Clearwing. "Do you obey or not, girl? Loose your hair."

"But, my hair? If I get embarrassed... it has this habit-"

"I've noted," Grace interrupted dryly. "I've suffered much too, but trust me. I know the best look for my operatives and I expect obedience, even from my most reluctant new recruits."

Something very cold nestled into Clear's gut. Something beyond panic. She stared blankly at the smugly satisfied old lady in front of her. She hardly noticed the languid movement of Grace's seamed hand, or the quick tugs when Sparrow removed the ship's crest from her hair in response.

Blonde strands flew into her peripheral vision, along with Senior Sparrow, who stepped forward as he decompressed a delicate, dilmah dress. He offered the dress to Clear, who just blinked at him and made no effort to accept it. The thought of losing her uniform as well as her crest was insane, but it was that thought that finally galvanised her. "Operative?" she choked and Grace smiled.

"Certain-sure, Sub-Operative Pinion. I've seconded you from the fleet to the BGP. Senior Sparrow will explain your duties and test your know-how for such-"

"No. Wait. Wait, wait, wait."

Grace raised an eyebrow while Clear raised both hands, palm out, trying to push away such a future.

"You can't do this, Lady. You can't. I'm in-career. An officer. Data senior. I belong with-... with the fleet. You can't just make me Bureau."

Grace's cane thudded into the carpeted floor. "Be still, girl. Calm. I can't make you Bureau? Be very much sure that I can. I have declared an emergency and you should know the power my Bureau has in times of genetic risk. This is such a time. I can claim any-all I need and I claim you. You are drafted, Clearwing Pinion."

There was a moment of charged silence and then Clear took a deep breath. "Not," she answered with quiet conviction. "This can't be. There's no gene emergency-"

"No emergency? Do you claim I'm senile, or just lying?" Grace stopped, gasping for breath. It took her com a full minute to calm her frenzied breathing so that she could spit more words at her shaking subordinate.

"We are damaged and running for our lives. In chase of us are mercenaries, assassins, Harvesters and t'ssaa. The Arck has ordered our end and placed at risk a breeding program of importance beyond his understanding. Nightwing and Freefall are vital to the future of all sentients. This threat to both of them is a dire danger and if you can help in any small way, with any males I nominate, you certain-sure will. Do you follow, girl? Now run off to Leader FarFlight and explain that he has need for a new data senior."

Clear had no more words to offer. She simply stared miserably, without protest. There was nothing she could do and no legal response she could make, not so far from a kres court. She could have challenged the declaration of emergency, but only before a royal arbiter. Without such a trial, Lady Grace's discretion was absolute.

Clear was scarcely aware of Sparrow's hand on her elbow when he steered her toward the door. She stumbled back through the Bureau apartments in a daze. The trip down the link was like something from a nightmare and, by the time she managed to rouse herself, she was in the passage outside the leader's secondary door. She had no idea how she got there.

Sparrow leaned past her to activate the door whistle. "Best luck," he rasped, with a touch of frond sympathy, before stepping quickly away.

Clear had a moment of absolute panic that stole every thought and any chance of retreat. The door field in front of her melted away and she was still unable to move.

"Enter," Free called, but his order made no difference.

She halted, trembling and trapped, staring at the silhouette of her leader. He was standing with his back to her, leaning over his console, and the glow from its display created a halo around him. She had one last chance to retreat, but what was the point?

Clear finally admitted the truth. There was no escape from this moment. She had her orders and sooner or later, she would have to resign. She moved forward, past the doorway and its field sealed behind her.

Free straightened from studying a map of Gratuity and stifled a yawn. He turned to greet his visitor with a fixed smile which instantly vanished. He rushed forward instead, to loom over Clear, but stopped just short of touching her. He hovered anxiously, while his mind radiated concern. "Clear, what's wrong?"

She took a quivering breath and her jaw trembled, making her words clipped and staccato. "Sah, it is with regret. Deep regret. I quit. Sah." She raised a shaking com and her resignation fired straight to the cabin console.

Free stared at her as though she was mad, and she felt the first threat of tears. There was no heat in her eyes though, no sense of wetness, because this was weeping of a different order. She could feel it gathering in her belly, great wrenching sobs that had no place in her leader's quarters. "Excuse, Lord Freefall. I'll be with the Bureau if you have need of me. Just, excuse."

Clear tried to turn away, tried to leave, but Free finally touched her. His hands closed around her upper arms with a most improper urgency. She made no effort to pull away and he gentled his grip without releasing her.

"Clear," he asked, looking utterly bewildered, "what the hail is this?"

"Don't," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. "Please, don't. There's no way you can help."

Free's fingers tensed again and Clear started to shake.

"Why? Why resign? Are you sub-happy? Is this my fault?"

"Gods," Clear managed, "no." Then the tears arrived, beyond com control, shaking her body so hard she could scarcely feel it. She had a vague impression of being held, of calming words, but everything was distant. Her emotions had taken control and all she could do was give them free rein. She tried to stop weeping, but, despite the incredible embarrassment of crying all over her Leader, it took time for her to calm herself. When she finally did return to her senses, her position was strangely familiar.

Freefall was holding her and she wished that they could always be this close.

Me too, his thought answered hers while one of his fronds brushed past.

"Free," Clear whispered against his chest, and his lips touched her hair.

She briefly tried to hold to the safety of fleet etiquette, but the night's events had stolen her restraint. Her fronds rose to wrap sinuously around both of his, and that simple contact removed the wall between them. She closed her eyes, caught by a release so intense that it felt more sharp than sweet.

All the polite evasions and uncertainties that stood between them vanished. The information shared during their meld swept aside any doubts. Emotions flowed increasingly freely, as the normal result of fronding, and the unrivalled exchange that was part of such kres intimacy.

Clear's feelings were joined by his, along with thoughts and memories, all tumbled together in random sharing, but both becoming more detailed until those details destroyed their embrace. Her most recent experiences slipped from her fronds to his and he instantly snapped straight in response. He may no longer have been draped around her, but she still felt his muscles tense with fury.

"It's no matter," Clear tried to convince Free, scared by the defiance he radiated in response to her memories. "The BGP has the right. They have full control over me. You know they can order such."

"No," he denied, his voice shaking with anger. "No, they can't. She can't. She'll regret this."

"Free, don't. She outranks you in this."

He looked down at Clear, tight-lipped, and she sensed no compromise in him.

"Then I'll out think her." However, even as he said it, she felt his doubt. Grace was a consummate manipulator and more cunning than either of them would ever be. How could they possibly beat her?

Clear pressed hard against Free, forcing the embrace past despair and into her memory. His scent, the hard curves of his chest, the heat of his arms- which abruptly tensed to push her away. The chill of loss flowed between them, but she scarcely flinched. She could survive it now. She could survive anything after such sharing.

However, she did jump when Free's anger flared. "Drak her. The old gat. I can guess what she wants from me, but she could have asked, rather than scared you so."

"If she'd asked me, I'd have certain-sure said no."

"That's not what I meant. Clear, who's exempt from Bureau control?"

Clearwing gulped against returning tears and gathered her thoughts. "The Arck, Council of Ten, noble Aged, married couples- oh." Her hair tried to lift from the back of her neck, but she had no time for embarrassment and allowed herself no chance to be tempted. "No," she stated with rediscovered calm, and a mental touch emphasised her refusal. "Certain-sure no."

"No?"

"I won't let you wed me to prevent this."

Free raised an eyebrow at her. "I've not offered. I'm sorry over this, but I can't marry you just to stop a BGP claim."

"Of course not." Clear gulped, not knowing where to look. Her hair was trying to go into orbit, despite the room's gravity. "That was most dumb of me. Just... dumb."

Her embarrassment was so excruciating that she failed to notice Free reaching for her hands. He took them both in his and she started at the unexpected contact. She looked up with a sense of surprise that turned to amazement when he changed his grip. Free's hands moved gently, until they cupped hers, with his thumbs resting in her palms. The position was a formal one and instantly recognisable to any kres.

"Clearwing Pinion," her Leader asked intently, "will you wed me?" She simply gaped in response and his smile wavered, but he persevered. "I love you, Clear, and when we touch, I feel our bond. So I'm asking for your hands and to found a new clan with you. Right now and here, in this time and place."

"But... you just said you wouldn't ask..."

"Neither I would," he agreed gently, "if it was just a convenience. I've had enough of such. But this asking isn't due to Grace. She pushed her way into it, because she thinks me slow-as, and she may well be right. So she's tried to force me to this, but it should be for us alone and from this moment, it is. Do you not wish to wed me?"

Clear clutched at his fingers. "Of course I do. I want any relationship we can have. But you're royalty and this whole crew is in exile because of me. You could be their one hope to return home, but only if you stay mate-free. I'm the last person with any right to interfere in that."

"No," he disagreed, gently pressing her palms. "Even if I truly could live such a lie, my value is no longer high enough. I've directly disobeyed the Arck to help my cousin and he'll have my rank for it. Any-all, I've had enough of games. All their games. I've had enough of responsibility too. I want you too much and this once I intend to indulge myself. Marry me now, Clear, or will you still say me no?"

Clearwing gulped away fresh tears of a very different sort. "Never-times," she whispered. She looked up at Free and her lips curved in a shy smile. "I'd not dare disobey such an order, sah."

Free laughed and pulled Clear close until their faces touched. His mouth brushed against her cheek and the edge of her lips as he made the most important vow of his life. "Clearwing Pinion, I, Freefall FarFlight, do pledge myself to you, for all-time. Record it so."

Clear sighed softly in response and pressed closer in turn. "Freefall FarFlight, I, Clearwing Pinion, do pledge myself to you, for all-time. Seal it so."

"So recorded and sealed," the console responded. "Congratulations, Lord and Lady FarFlight. Shall I announce these nuptials?" The computer waited for a response, but its master was otherwise occupied. "Lord?" it queried again, and this time Free lifted his mouth from his wife's long enough to answer.

"Ye, for sure. Tell the whole system."

"The system, Lord?" the machine wondered, but there was no further response. The console analysed its visual of the room's two occupants and decided it was unlikely to receive an answer for some time. It obediently made an official announcement of the marriage to all shipboard computers. It hesitated nearly half a second over the rest of its order before releasing the same message as radio waves to the empty system.

Its first announcement had already elicited dozens of responses from within the ship, but only one had the authority to punch straight past the console's screening and broadcast into the cabin.

"You're most welcome." Lady Grace chuckled delightedly. "Satisfaction for all, especially me. I'm thrilled I no longer need to convey the necessary. I do hope I can trust the two of you to negotiate that." Her smug words rang around the room, but the newlyweds were far too distracted to care.

39

Hunted

Wing took Darsey's hands and spun on his heel. She threw herself into the movement and he hurled her forward. She flew through space, away from Gratuity, and landed lightly on a tongue of metal. It thrummed under her feet and she looked anxiously back to the main dock. However, the noise of her approach had gone unnoticed. The silver-green hull curving above her stayed shut and no one appeared on the dock behind Wing to investigate. She offered a relieved smile to the kres, who motioned for her to back up.

Darsey moved further onto a silver gantry that barely emerged from the strange ship now pressed against her spine. That sliver had only been partially extended, ready to facilitate quick unloading, but it was still far distant from Gratuity's dock. The gulf between the two had clearly been left to keep the ship secure and Darsey eyed that chasm doubtfully. The main body of the ship was fully docked and the whole vessel was within the influence of Gratuity's gravity.

Darsey watched anxiously while Wing bounced on his toes and studied the distance. If he misjudged his jump, he would overshoot straight into the docked ship's thrust field. It had just reached full power and would vaporise him instantly.

"Hey," Darsey called over the rapidly growing engine noise, "you said you could judge throwing me, right? So now it's your turn. Jump."

Wing grimaced in response, but stopped hesitating. Instead he sprinted forward to launch himself at the tiny platform. He came hurtling toward Darsey and for a moment she was sure he'd fly straight past and into the engine. However, he snapped his feet forward and instantly dropped to land lightly in front of her. His heels were off the back of the ramp, but Darsey grabbed his tunic and hauled him to safety.

"You okay?"

"Certain-sure. Thanks."

"Great," she said brightly, before craning back to stare at the hull rising behind them. "So what are we doing here? Stealing this ship?"

"What?" Wing gaping, but then found a grin. "No, no such. It's too big an ask, but I like your idea. Next time, mayhaps. This time we're here to steal into storage."

"All right, we're stowing away."

Wing raised an eyebrow at her. "This is the t'ssaa command ship."

"Oh." Darsey stared at him blankly, trying to figure out why they were there. "The last place they'll look?" she ventured uncertainly.

"For now," he confirmed, 'but we can't pass more than ten minutes without risk."

"Then why are we here?" Darsey asked more sharply, but Wing was engrossed in his com display.

"There," he said with quiet satisfaction, and looked up at the hull above their heads.

"Where?" Darsey wondered, and Wing answered by raising his com toward the ship. A line of data linked it to the vessel, then spread across its shimmering skin. The light flowed outward from that point of contact to form a glowing pool. Her lips shaped a silent "oh" and, at the same time, the puddle of light sank into the ship. It was swallowed by the hull and in its wake left a dark hole.

"Low priority cargo port," Wing murmured. "I stole access to it from the t'ssaa leader's com. It was little guarded and he was in-talk and distracted."

"A-huh." Darsey nodded in understanding. "You piggy-backed your way into his com by tracing his subordinate's signal when they were tracking you."

"I think so," Wing agreed distractedly, "though I don't know which part of my back is my piggy- ah, the hatch is sensor-off. Let's go." He reached up to the lip of that gaping circle to lever himself smoothly inside.

Darsey looked up at the hatch above her head and hesitated. However, the distant hiss of t'ssaa speech floating around the hull from the ship's main exit galvanised her. She leapt to grip the edge of the hole and slithered into the darkness beyond.

The moment she entered the alien ship, its hatch closed behind her and everything became pitch black. She quivered when fright activated her com's battle mode and flooded her body with adrenaline. Wing touched her reassuringly on the arm and she leapt convulsively away to slam into the now-solid wall behind her.

"Hey," the kres murmured, but made no further attempt to touch her. "Easy now. It's kay. I'm sorry you got a scare. I forgot your awesome startle response. Wait on."

Darsey could hear him entering commands against his wrist and then the darkness eased. Gradually, her sight returned and she started to relax, then tensed again when she registered the strangeness of the images around her. Wing was crouched nearby, but was only partially visible. His features were blurred and his ill-defined outline filled with strangely pulsing colors.

"What the...?" Darsey wondered, but Wing raised a green-hued hand reassuringly.

"I'm sharing my frond-sight through our coms," he explained. "You could program an infrared visual field yourself instead, but such would use power that you might need. I don't want to access any t'ssaa systems before we must, so the lights stay out for now. Okay?"

"Sure," Darsey answered vaguely. She was staring around the storage hold in delight.

Wing's image was the most obvious thing in sight, bright and pulsing, but even the floor had some residual heat and she could see it clearly as a dull brown underfoot. Her own feet were unrecognisable puddles of blue-green light. She looked up again and realized that the hold was packed with canisters. Piled ranks of different sizes and temperatures rose many times her height in all directions. They were surrounded by all of the goods the t'ssaa were unable to place in compression storage. The darkness was a hodge podge of different colors and black boxes, without a heat signature at all.

"Wow," Darsey breathed, before the vast array of tightly packed goods reminded her of more important issues. "What is all this and what the hell are we doing here?"

"Looking," Wing answered brusquely and accessed his com again.

"For what?"

"Eggs."

"Eggs?" Darsey wondered briefly, before understanding hit. "Of course, the t'ssaa said they've got kres eggs."

"Ye," Wing answered grimly. He traced the lines of a schematic as they scrolled over the face of his com. "Here she is. A kres female, in stasis storage, thank the gods. She's low secure, because they've no fear of her escaping. She's far from conscious and little guarded. Well," he amended without concern, "there are energy screens and filters, but such are easily passed."

Wing paused and Darsey tried to make sense of the dark holes that marked his features while he stared at her. "Perhaps you should go soon-as. I've got to try a rescue, Darse. I can't just leave her so, but you've no need to come. Should I open the exit?"

Wing stepped back toward Darsey, but she answered without hesitation. "No way. No, it was bad enough being caught and sold by Greon, but being held by the t'ssaa and then used for breeding experiments..." Her voice trailed away and she shuddered. "I want to help."

"Good," Wing answered, and Darsey could almost believe he sounded pleased. "I'll go fetch the lady. If I've any problems, I'll open this hatch and at least you can flee. So if the exit returns, take it. Quick-as. Use battle thrust from your com, and if you see trouble first, find me and let me know we need a different escape. Kay?"

"Understood," Darsey said crisply, and tried a grin in the strange half light. "Don't be long."

"I'll try not," Wing whispered as he backed away, "but I'm worth a wait." He squeezed between two rows of storage pods and his image quickly shrank. It was soon little more than a smudge that merged into the chequers of the cluttered hold.

Darsey stifled a sigh and tried to relax. All she had to do was sit tight until Wing got back, assuming she could recognise his blurred image. What if a t'ssaa found her instead? How quickly would she spot the difference? This strange form of sight was much less precise than normal vision, but a moment's reflection convinced her she was unlikely to mistake the kres for anyone else. She knew how he moved and stood too well to be easily fooled. It's simple, she reassured herself. If it has a crest, take it out.

Light abruptly washed past Darsey and she turned back to the hull in shock. The hatch irised opened behind her and her eyes watered at the brightness beyond. Outside the ship was the same deserted gray dock they had recently left, but her com had to filter its grimy light until her eyes could adjust. She quickly scanned the open decking, but there was no sign of a t'ssaa ambush and she moved at once. Wing had been explicit about her leaving if the hatch opened, so that was exactly what she did.

The hole was larger than before and Darsey straightened, to step onto its edge. She paused on the lip, judging her jump, and there was sudden noise behind her. The pounding of approaching footsteps vibrated through the hull. Someone was running toward her at combat speed and closing frighteningly fast.

Darsey leapt. She flew back onto Gratuity and landed cleanly, running forward with the last of her momentum to disappear into the shadows of the dock. She twisted to look back and a dark shape was already hurtling from the ship after her. It was taller and much bulkier than Darsey and she slipped into a defensive posture while com power flooded her body. Movement around her seemed to slow, as it always did in battle, and she had time to see more clearly what was flying straight at her.

Darsey's eyebrows rose and she instantly moved forward to meet her pursuer. She ducked aside at the last second so that Wing could sail past her, but reached up to catch his burden. He had jumped from the ship with someone on his shoulder and he shrugged her off to Darsey just before landing.

He still hit hard, leaving heel prints in the dock plating, before rolling to lose the last of his momentum. Darsey grunted as she caught his passenger and staggered backwards after him.

The strange kres was hard to hold, despite Darsey's com strength. The newcomer was an impossible mix of dead weight and frantic struggling, as she regained control over parts of her body. Darsey lost her balance and had to sit down with a thump, letting the kres fall to the dock beside her.

Wing rolled to a halt in a tangle of dock girders, but rose at once and turned to lope back toward the t'ssaa vessel. His attention was on his com, and he spared Darsey only a passing glance when he strode past. She bit back distracting questions and twisted to offer comfort to the rescued prisoner instead.

However, the stranger lying beside her hissed, while her golden hands clawed at the decking and she struggled to pull herself away from her rescuer.

"Hey," Darsey protested. "Where are you going?"

The captive turned her head awkwardly and brown eyes, flecked with gold, glared at Darsey. "Noplace with you, Harvester." The kres looked away again and continued trying to pull herself forward.

Darsey sighed and rose, then stepped across to block the stranger's path. The kres gripped the foot stopping her and tried to shove it aside. Her grip was weak and after a second's struggle she gave up. Her head flopped forward against Darsey's boot in utter despair. Golden fronds tucked tight to disappear beneath dark hair and a low groan rose from the ex-prisoner.

"It's all right," Darsey reassured her quickly, crouching to pat a shaking hand. "You're fine and I'm no Harvester. I'm here to save you."

Darsey's claim brought an instant response. The stranger's head jerked up and a frond rose with it. "Save me?" the kres demanded, trying to hide the sudden hope behind her suspicion.

"Certain sure," Darsey answered solemnly, and did her best to project reassurance.

The stranger's frond twitched in response and she struggled to lever herself more upright. Darsey reached out to help, and at that moment Wing strode up to crouch beside them, staring back at the t'ssaa ship.

"They'll find the break-free quick. We need to go-oh!" Wing's terse comment became a strangled exclamation when the ex-prisoner threw herself at him.

She found a sudden reserve of energy to push herself forward and up. She rose far enough to clutch at Wing and then dragged herself higher, until she could cling to his neck. He responded automatically, holding her gingerly as he looked to Darsey for help. However, before either could move, the one-time captive started to sob.

"W-wing," she choked. "Wing, Wing, oh, Wing."

"She seems to know you," Darsey offered dryly, but Nightwing looked perplexed.

He tried to draw back far enough to see the stranger's face, but she held him with surprising strength.

"No," the female gasped in renewed panic. "No, Wing, no. Don't go. Be real. Please."

"Sure, sure," her captive offered soothingly. "I'm real-as." He twisted gently in the ex-prisoner's grasp and managed to catch a glimpse of her profile, seeing her clearly for the first time, and his mouth dropped in amazement. He stared helplessly, as if struggling to believe what he was seeing, then pulled her close again, holding her hard.

"Harrier? Harry? Gods. Gods, Harry. I thought you were dead. Hail, I was sure of it. I followed you while I was in-exile, scanned your promotion to court and then I saw you listed lost when the Epic Wanderer..." He stopped his frenzied recital to gulp for breath. "Definitely dead."

He took another shaky breath and then pulled back from the mutual embrace. "Harry." He smiled down at the pretty, young kres who offered a faltering smile in return.

"Nightwing, is it honestly you? Truly?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Darsey interrupted. "And we need to go."

Both kres looked up at her uncertainly. "Go?" Wing wondered, and Darsey resisted the temptation to shake him.

"Yes. Leave, flee, get the hell out of here. Wake up, Wing."

He blinked once, but then surged upright, dragging the female kres with him. "Go. Yes. Gods, yes. Go now. I've got to see you safe. Can you walk, Harrier?"

"I can try," she grated, but swayed precariously, so he hoisted her into his arms.

"Darsey, lead us. The ch't'kar ship, quick-as."

Darsey started to agree, but never got the chance. A ball of energy arced from the t'ssaa vessel and exploded against the girder above them. The plating buckled beneath their feet and they were slammed into it by the shockwave. Shrapnel screamed past, along with molten metal. Something ripped into the deck by Darsey's head, rupturing it, and then something heavy hit her body.

A hand clutched her waist and she realized that Wing had landed on top of her. He wrapped an arm tight around her and she saw he had Harrier tucked under his other arm. His com screeched in Darsey's ear, before blasting through the damaged plating. The deck opened beneath them and all three fell through.

They plummeted toward Gratuity's heart and the world spinning past turned to fire again when another shot exploded close behind. Their fall became a chaos of twisting beams and screaming metal and Wing grunted when a broken tread slammed against his back.

"You okay?" Darsey yelled in his face, but he barely had time to grimace before they crashed.

The three of them struck a walkway at a glancing angle. Darsey's com fended off the collision and they tumbled on, but the next contact was much worse. They fell straight toward a major gantry and she felt the pulse of a low power warning at her wrist. The next impact was going to hurt.

Wing twisted savagely in mid-air, managing to turn them all, so that he was underneath. They hit hard and metal buckled around them. Darsey's com was overloaded and pain blinded her. Beneath her she felt Wing driven into the deck, which thrummed wildly at such an impact.

Silence gradually returned as a shocking contrast to their fall. The only noise was an intermittent creak of metal. That simple sound seemed to cut through Darsey's skull and she could taste blood.

She heard Wing groan and tried to focus on him, but the moment of pained and helpless silence continued while they all struggled for their next breath. She needed to know how badly he was hurt, but her eyes refused to work. The world had become a vague place of twisted colors.

Darsey started when Harrier pushed herself up onto her hands. The kres was little more than a blur of movement beside her, until a soft hand settled firmly on Darsey's shoulder. It was followed by the welcome touch of a regen field.

"Be still," Harrier instructed calmly. "Your skull's fractured and needs three minutes to heal."

"Heal?" Darsey asked thickly, and the blur crouching over her made a soothing sound.

"Ye, soon-as."

The ache behind Darsey's eyes started to ease and she sighed with relief when the surrounding colors formed shapes again. "Wing?" she wondered, frustrated by the regen field, which was holding her head still and making it impossible to look past Harrier.

"He's good, too. Three split ribs, plus one that broke and is in his lung-"

"What?" Darsey demanded with renewed concern. "A punctured lung? He needs a doctor."

"Be still," Harrier repeated, and Darsey's mouth snapped shut. "Wing is healing well and I'll speed all, once you're fixed. I'm a Royal Physician and you'll both heal well."

"It's kay," Wing agreed in a laboured voice. "Harry's a... most skilled healer. She can direct regen fields to work super well and super fast."

Darsey sagged and stopped fighting her com's restraint. Thoughts fluttered randomly through her healing head. Great, great, great, she's pretty and smart, just great.

She jumped again when Harrier leaned forward to cup Darsey's face in a pair of golden hands. She frowned up at the healer, but Harrier's eyes were shut while she concentrated on the regen field. "We're near done," she reassured her patient, who shifted irritably in her grip.

"What about Wing?" Darsey demanded, but Harrier had no chance to answer.

"Go," Nightwing interrupted hoarsely. "Quick-as. T'ssaa."

Darsey moved before Harrier could react, pushing aside the physician's hands. The human twisted to crouch beside Wing and her jaw tightened at what she saw. His usually bronzed complexion was pale and there was blood on his lips. "C'mon, hero," she ordered, "up you get." She leaned forward to slip an arm under his neck, but a look from him stopped her.

"Go," he gasped again. "Go now. I'll follow."

"You can't," Harrier stated bleakly. "Not yet and I never-times leave a patient." She knelt beside Darsey and gave her an authoritative look. "You can escape, though. Run quick and you'll be safe. We kres can care for ourselves."

Darsey snorted in response. "And you'll fight off the t'ssaa, Doc? I don't think so."

"Both go," Wing rasped and raised his commed wrist to show a visual of t'ssaa plummeting toward them.

Darsey recognised the square with the Bizzare Bazaar and realized the pursuers were almost on them. They had to flee, but Wing wasn't going anywhere.

40

On The Run

"Too late," Darsey snapped, and moved to Wing's head to grasp him under the arms. She backed up fast, dragging him with com-enhanced strength. She pulled the kres under a ramp leading to a higher level, and Harrier squeezed into its illusory shelter with them.

"Stay," Darsey ordered, and crawled over Wing back toward the open deck. However, before she could duck out from under the ramp, a hand gripped her wrist. The grasp was hard enough to stop her, hard enough to hurt, and she frowned back at Wing.

"No," his lips shaped, but she shook her head.

"Have to."

"Can't we surrender?" Harrier wondered. "Don't they wish to catch us alive?"

"Not Wing as a whole and not me," Darsey pointed out, and tried to leave again, but Nightwing was holding her with desperate strength.

There was noise now, the growing sound of pursuit as air rushed ahead of the massed t'ssaa. Darsey turned back and crawled into the shelter until her face was close to his.

"I won't go down without a fight. I can't. Not ever again."

"I know," he whispered, and nodded toward his com. "Malik."

"Who?" Darsey wondered, and jumped violently when a head appeared behind her.

A boy leaned over the ramp above, hanging upside-down from its edge. Dirty blond curls fell away from a thin face that considered them thoughtfully. "You called?"

"Hide us. Five hundred," Wing yelled, and the youngster peered in at him.

"A thousand."

"Done," the kres agreed, and a com link connected to the boy's arm, just as booted feet hit the walkway behind him.

The whole level thrummed as t'ssaa warriors arrived in force. Fluid green bodies fell from the level above to land with easy grace. They dropped in waves of five and the first group to land instantly launched itself along the walkway. They closed on the ramp at eye-wrenching speed, in a stampede of raised crests and questing tongues.

However, Malik ducked beneath it before the t'ssaa noticed him and slammed his forearm against the floor. An old and bulky com, half hidden by an outsized sleeve, responded at once.

A camouflage field rose smoothly to coat the fugitives in more convincing shadows. Darsey peered at the spot where Wing was lying, but it looked grimy and empty. She looked down at her hands, but they were gone too. Whatever the kid had in that toaster round his wrist it worked.

The hunters prowled the level in increasing numbers, clearly unable to find a further trail. Several t'ssaa stopped beside the ramp and one ducked down to peer beneath it. Its tongue flicked out to scent the darkness, but it shook its head in disgust before moving away.

Darsey breathed a quiet sigh of relief and a hidden hand settled on her shoulder. "Good eh?" the boy whispered in her ear and she had to smile.

"Very good," Darsey agreed, before the world around her rippled like a tent in a gale. Her companions reappeared and she spared the boy hunched beside her an anxious look.

He responded with a gap toothed grin. "All's well, lady in distress. The hissers won't duck under again, so I pushed out my disguise. I wanted to swap greetings proper like."

Darsey's gaze strayed to Wing, but she dragged it back and offered her hand to their rescuer. "I'm Darsey." She tried not to look too closely at the very dirty paw that enthusiastically clutched her forearm.

"I'm Malik. Sorry," the youngster added when his unclipped nails dug into her skin. He pulled away, looking embarrassed, and rubbed the back of his hand under his nose. "What's wrong with him?"

Darsey followed the boy's gaze to Wing, who was wedged beneath the far end of the ramp. His eyes were closed and his features were still tight with pain, while Harrier rested her hands lightly on his torso.

"Nothing. He just needs a nap."

Malik gave her a sardonic look, from a face that suddenly appeared much older. "Sure. So what's your story, Darsey lady?"

"I don't know what you mean," Darsey murmured, looking back to the t'ssaa. They were regrouping at the point of impact, where she and the others had first hit. More of the aliens arrived while she watched, leaping from the level above. Her eyes flicked over the expanding group and her com confirmed fifty potential targets. "Damn." She was distracted by impatient fingers tugging at her tunic.

"Darsey-lady. What's on with you? I saw a metal rail play in and out with your skin. Saw it true, when you first came on."

Darsey gave him her best amused-and-unconcerned look. "You've got an active imagination. I guess my top must have folded past the rail when I leaned over it. Your eyes played tricks on you."

"Then so did my com," Malik sneered, and Darsey hesitated at the sudden malice on his face. It vanished as fast as it had come when the boy smiled again. "Sure, you're just a normal-as mermaridian and I'll not ask more."

"Great," Darsey breathed, and turned back to the walkway.

The t'ssaa were starting to disperse, splitting back into strike teams to continue the hunt. Several groups leapt toward lower levels and one ran up the ramp, with an overhead rattle of iron. The others turned left and right, disappearing either up or down as they reached links and steps.

"Yes, good." Darsey turned to Harrier, but she was still engrossed in healing Wing.

However, the patient had his eyes open now and winked at Darsey. She shuffled closer in response and knelt beside his legs. "It's stopped raining lizards. What next?"

Wing's faint smile vanished and his expression hardened. "I need you to see Harry safe. You'll have to risk an up-link to the hire ship. The ch't'kar will cry off, because I only paid a single fee, so tell him it's for two, but just a one-jump trip. You need to pass through the nearest passage, but that's all. Meet with my cousin's ship and transfer on. Free will see you safe home."

"Uh-huh," Darsey answered noncommittally. "And what will you be doing?"

"Diversion," Wing answered, his face bleak, and he raised a warning finger. "I mean this, Darse. I can watch your tail feathers. It's our best plan."

"Best for us," she pointed out. "Not for you."

"Perhaps." He shrugged a hand. "But at least I'll not be slowed."

"I don't slow you down," Darsey pointed out indignantly. "It's Dr. Legs-Still-Asleep who's the problem."

"That's true, but I want you both safe. And I'm unsure why you don't want the same."

Darsey stopped and her mouth snapped shut while Wing glared at her. "I'm not sure either," she admitted, but then managed to rally. "Curiosity. Huge curiosity. Curiosity that didn't just kill the cat, it hung, drew and quartered it. You owe me answers and I'm with you 'til I get them." She stopped, breathing hard, but the kres looked just as stubborn.

"I need you to see Harrier safe," Wing said very slowly and clearly.

Darsey tilted her head and placed her fists on her hips, but, before she could answer, a small shadow edged closer.

"I'll do'n," Malik offered with bright-eyed conviction. "I'll take the kres-lady. I'm sneaky quick and I can get to any dock. I know where to hide. All the hides. Drak, I even know where you and the Darsey-ordinary-muck-lady can be safe."

Wing studied the urchin intently. "How much?"

"We-ell," Malik drawled thoughtfully, "with t'ssaa on the hunt, you for sure need help. Say two thousand credits as escort, plus a thousand to send you safe hid."

Wing laughed and then grimaced against the sudden pain. "You've helped us, Malik, and have our full thanks, but I'll not spend three thousand credits on an unproved promise. Five hundred now, to see Harrier safe, and then such again when she is. Plus five hundred for a hide and the same once we reach it."

"You might not live to reach such," Malik protested, but Wing just grinned again.

"You'd best hope we do."

"Deal," the boy agreed, without wasting further time on bartering. "C'mon, Lady-Doc," he ordered, and plucked at Harrier's sleeve.

She spasmed at the interruption and her head flew up, wide-eyed.

"What?" she demanded incoherently, and Wing sat up quickly to put an arm around her.

"Easy, Harry," he murmured, squeezing her shoulder gently. "Sorry for the interrupt, but it's time to go."

"Go?" she asked vaguely, before her eyes snapped into focus again. "You're not totally healed yet."

"Well enough," he said firmly, "and the regen strip will finish the fix. You've got to go now while your guide's still willing."

"Guide?" Harrier wondered, and looked doubtfully at Malik.

The boy bridled at her expression, puffing his chest out in response, but Wing answered before the youngster could comment.

"Certain-sure, Gratuity's best guider. This is Malik and he'll see you safe to a ship I've bought passage on."

"But what about you?" Harrier demanded, reaching for Wing's hand and squeezing it tight.

Darsey looked quickly away, which she belatedly realized was odd, but then someone had to watch the t'ssaa. In the background the doctor kept bleating on about her duty.

"-makes you my responsibility. If I don't heal you, how will you flee?"

Wing's answer was so low Darsey hardly caught it. "I'll join you soon-as, on Freefall's ship."

"Free," Harrier interrupted with an annoying trill. "Free's here?"

"Just a passage away. Tell the ch't'kar I hired to rendezvous one jump out. He might need to wait there, if Free's busy fetching us."

"Free's a leader now?" Harrier gasped and Darsey could imagine the wide eyed expression that went with such breathlessness.

"Sector leader, the gat," Wing confirmed. "You know Free. He'll sleep with anyone to get to the middle."

Harrier laughed and Darsey glanced back to see the healer clutching Wing's hand in both of hers. Did the woman have no shame? Darsey caught her one-time owner's eye and he plucked his fingers away from Harrier's.

"Hey. Harry. It's time to go. Past time."

"I know," she quavered, and her frond darted forward to wrap its entire length around one of his. "Promise to re-meet soon."

"Frond oath," he responded. "I'll get to Free's ship someway."

"Good." Harrier smiled down at him and then glanced at Darsey and Malik. She hesitated before looking back to Wing again. "We need to talk. Special talk, but only once we're private." She looked at Darsey with a tight, apologetic smile, and the human's annoyance kindled into full blown dislike.

"Ah, sure," Wing answered, but had to break off when Harrier leaned in to kiss him.

She planted her mouth on his with a desperate enthusiasm for which he seemed completely unprepared. He collapsed backwards, but his attacker persisted and he made no effort to fend her off. It was one of the most gratuitous displays of public affection Darsey had ever had the misfortune to witness.

"Get a camouflage field," she suggested and Wing finally pushed Harrier away. The healer slowly rose to a crouch, before crawling backwards and out from under the ramp. Darsey was already in the street and busy watching the walkway for t'ssaa, but the kres healer offered her a warm smile.

"Deep thanks for saving me. I owe you a future-favor."

"Don't mention it. You don't owe me a thing. It was Wing who thought of saving you."

Harrier ducked her head in awkward acknowledgement. "Still and all I'm grateful. Stay safe, Darsey."

"We'll be fine," Darsey emphasised, but then bit her lip in remorse. "That is... be safe too, Harrier. Good luck."

The healer turned away without another word, to shuffle along the walkway. Malik hurried to catch her and ducked a shoulder under her hand to offer support. The pair moved slowly to the nearest up-link, but Harrier stopped once more before entering.

She turned to look back at Wing, who was still under the ramp. She stared at him for several seconds before abruptly wheeling and launching herself into the tube. Malik leapt after her and they flew upwards, vanishing almost at once.

"I thought they'd never go," Darsey muttered, before swinging to face Wing in sudden concern. "What about the hiding place Malik promised us?"

"It's good," the kres answered calmly. "We made exchange when we sealed the deal. Here's the route." He tapped his wrist band, sending the information, and then slid out from under the ramp. He rose to his feet with an arm wrapped around his ribs, but stretched carefully and let the arm fall to his side. "I forgot how good Harry is. She adds top speed to the cellular healing."

"Good," Darsey answered brusquely, keeping her eyes on her com while Malik's route to safety scrolled over it. "What is that?" she wondered, pointing at their final destination.

"Brilliant," Wing replied, looking over her shoulder. "It's the Inner Hub, an old part of the city, long time abandoned with no easy way in. It's also at the heart of this icy world, with no power for heat."

"From what we overheard, the t'ssaa won't like that. How much will it slow them down?"

"None," Wing said more bleakly, "but it will drain their coms some and they'll need more shots to blast through our shields. When the shooting starts, stay behind me... please. I want to see you safe."

Darsey gave Wing a long, considering look. "You really do, don't you?"

"Certain-sure," he answered with the same intensity.

"Then why did you walk out and leave me?"

Any answer Wing might have given was interrupted by an urgent whistle from his com. He glanced down and moved at once, sprinting down the walkway so that Darsey had to take off after him.

"What?"

"T'ssaa gather call. They've scented Harrier."

Wing launched himself into the nearest downlink and Darsey jumped too. They plummeted together, falling straight through a scaled tentacle that had been anchored to the wall. It shrieked in response and Wing let it wail for a second before twisting to aim his com back up the link. A single blast crisped the flailing ribbon, while the crowd below them scattered. In seconds, the link shaft was empty, apart from the diving couple.

"We need to take the lowest level to follow Malik's map," Darsey yelled across at Wing, who ducked a shoulder to slip through the air toward her.

"Ye, but fast," he shouted back. "Stay with me." He spread his arms, slowing slightly and stabilising his plunge.

Darsey did the same and they both curved toward the side of the tunnel. She looked up in time to see the first t'ssaa appear, far above. The reptiles hurled themselves down the link, with com thrusts so strong they left jet trails behind. They hurtled after the fugitives and were soon joined by more t'ssaa. Lithe bodies leapt from multiple levels, while a group of five appeared below Darsey.

"Drak," Wing cursed, and she silently agreed.

She automatically slowed to avoid the threat below, but he grabbed her hand at once.

"No," he ordered. "Fast-as and straight through."

Wing pulsed his com to drive them faster than ever, so they flashed toward the rising t'ssaa. He tucked and then tipped head first, dragging Darsey into the same position. She was suddenly diving straight at a pack of homicidal lizards, accelerating as she went. She wanted to protest, but the wind of that fall stole her breath. She looked over at Wing and he was her mirror image, still holding her hand and completely committed to their dive. She watched him and tried to ignore the bright crests growing fast in her peripheral vision.

Wing ignored her to keep his attention on the t'ssaa, until he yelled another order into the gale of their fall. "Full power, shoot."

Darsey's mind obeyed at once and her com fired at the same time as Wing's. Twin blasts ripped into the approaching t'ssaa. The reptiles were thrown aside and a gap opened in the middle of their formation. The two fugitives dropped through it while the t'ssaa grabbed desperately for them as they fell past.

Claws dug into Darsey's calf for an instant, before ripping free. The pain made her clutch Wing's hand and he looked across in quick concern. "All power back to defense," he shouted. "Every-all."

Her mind had scarcely obeyed, shutting off regen and pain relief, when the t'ssaa shots hit them. There was an explosion of heat and light and then she was tumbling through the link alone.

"Wing!" Darsey screamed, even though the air seared her lungs.

I'm here, his mind answered, and she struggled to control her head-over-heels fall. She belatedly realized that her com could help and, with a few quick pulses, managed to stop spinning. The world settled back to a blur of upward motion and she saw Wing outlined against the far wall.

His expression was horrified and fixed on her. "Brake!" he screamed, even though he was still falling too.

Darsey ordered a slowing pulse from her com and looked down. The ground was racing to meet them. The bottom of the link was scattered with rubbish, broken and rusted spikes of detritus that were closing at an alarming rate.

Darsey's throat went dry, but her mind gave orders without hesitation. All of her com's power shifted from defense to propulsion. It thrust so hard that her arm flew up over her head, despite its bracing. She saw Wing braking too, but they were slowing too late. A spear of metal jutted from the floor below Darsey and she realized with utter certainty that she was going to be impaled on it.

'Wing!' she yelled, although she had no idea how the kres could save her.

The rusted spike seemed to leap upwards and she closed her eyes just before she hit. The blow came, but from the side, not below.

Wing cannoned into Darsey with full sideways thrust. He drove her into the last tunnel that opened from the base of the link and they rocketed sideways before colliding with the floor and skidding on. They slid along a tiny, half-hidden passage that was abruptly lit by the glare of com blasts hitting the link floor behind them. The spears of metal carpeting it were vaporised.

Darsey skidded to a halt, breathless and disoriented, but Wing pulled her to her feet and on down the tunnel. The sound of landing t'ssaa carried clearly along its length. Her shoulders hunched in expectation of another blast, but they stumbled out of the corridor before their pursuers could fire. They ran on, down a wide flight of stairs, entering an area of dim light and over-arching space that seemed eerily empty. The Hub, Darsey realized at a glance, recognising that stepped city horizon, despite the strange silence.

"We need to slip the pursuit now," Wing gasped as he led them toward a suburb that resembled a road kill collection of mashed spikes and spines.

They sprinted into the shadows of the cavern's towers and onto a deserted travelator that was clanking along in oblivious, slow decay.

Darsey was moving at full combat speed and her feet struck the sagging metal strips at increasingly distant intervals. Each stride became a leap and she reached the shelter of the city before any pursuers appeared. The dark, dank and very welcome embrace of the Hub closed around her.

"Thank Gods," Wing muttered, and signalled to Darsey that she should jump.

She stepped from the travelator and dropped onto the compacted dust of Gratuity. She didn't hesitate, but moved quickly on, ducking in and out through a maze of alleys and as they ran Nightwing's com emitted a faint hiss.

"What's that?" Darsey wondered when the sound of a slow leak continued to follow her.

"Molecule ionisation," the kres breathed on her heels. "It destroys scent and stops the t'ssaa from tracking. Gives us a chance to get safely hid."

Darsey picked up her pace again, jumping down three levels and then darting toward a crooked tower. They approached a narrow passage that disappeared beneath that leaning building, but she slowed at the sight of it.

Wing pulled ahead, but she stopped completely, to stand frozen, only her hair stirring in a growing breeze. Warm, moist air flowed past her, sucked into the forbidding tunnel ahead, and Darsey shivered in that rank wind. Goosebumps crawled over her skin and she suddenly knew that this was the time to leave. Wing seemed fully mobile and he'd lost his pursuers, so she could go without feeling guilty. Just run away from the crazy hunt and join Harrier in safety...

Wing looked back over his shoulder and stopped at once. His expression was questioning, but then softened to a sympathetic smile. He moved to join Darsey where she stood caught by indecision and took her hand in a warm grip. "You're right. It's past time we split. Go join Harry. I'll lose the lizards then join you on Free's ship. And thankyou, Darse, for everything."

Darsey shook her head and shrugged off her paralysis to jerk her hand away from his. "Not so quick, kres. I was tempted to quit, but you still haven't answered my questions."

"Which can wait 'til we're safe aboard the Grace."

"All the more reason to make sure you actually get there. C'mon."

Darsey jogged forward to push past Wing and hurried on, following the breeze that funnelled into the dark passage.

Unfortunately, the t'ssaa were there first. Five lizards were packed into the tunnel's mouth, blocking the path completely. They crouched, waiting in two lines of two abreast, with their leader in front, ducked lowest of all. Their quivering crests seemed to fill the tunnel, each silhouetted by an eerie light that flickered behind them, shining from under the foundations of the Hub.

Wing hesitated, but this time Darsey charged on. She threw herself into an attack even as the t'ssaa raised their coms. The reptiles blinked, but their arms flicked to target her in instant response. She ducked and crouched with her final stride to push off as hard and low as she could. She hurtled at the kneeling leader and the blasts exploded above her.

The t'ssaa aimed smoothly again, with no hint of panic. Their leader leaned forward, ready to absorb the faint impact when Darsey struck his active field.

She cannoned into him instead, to hit hard and ram straight through his defense shield. Her shoulder drove into his chest, even though it should have been protected by his shield. He grunted when the heel of her hand slammed up under his chin and instantly went down. He fell back and Darsey dove forward over him, flipping into a hand spring and spinning head-over-heels to smash her boots into the heads of the two t'ssaa behind.

One struck cleanly and her victim flew backwards, but the other t'ssaa was faster. Its head twisted and her heel scraped past its jaw. It staggered to its knees and she landed in the space left by its companion, facing the last two t'ssaa.

Darsey crouched again, balanced and ready to press the attack, but her enemies had already moved past shock. They glided backwards with frightening speed, slipping beyond her reach. She rose smoothly and kicked out, but not at the retreating pair. She spun sideways and this time her boot connected with the temple of the previously grazed t'ssaa. It went down for good and she turned back to the final couple.

They stared at her from slitted eyes turned fully black, and both had coms aimed steadily at her. There was a flash of fire and Darsey dropped to her stomach.

However, the shot came from behind. Wing fired past her and a line of energy hit the roof above the t'ssaa. It exploded against the ceiling with controlled precision, cutting out a masonry slab. The concussion knocked both of the t'ssaa down and a foundation block from the tower above fell straight onto them. It thudded against hastily re-powered defense fields, momentarily trapping them both.

Darsey was pressed flat to the floor of the tunnel, winded by the blast, but she struggled to get her feet under her. She was helped by Wing, who hooked a hand under her arm and hoisted her up, on the run. They took off together, hurdling the struggling t'ssaa.

The tunnel closed tight around them, but, rather than getting darker it brightened. Darsey looked up and for the first time saw what was beyond the t'ssaa. The burrow ended in a blaze of color. A swirling vortex of energy filled the tunnel. It circled in neon streamers of violet, blue and green. There was air moving with it. Hot, stale air this close to the vent that lifted Darsey's plait and Wing's fronds. She could feel the suction from the whirlpool ahead, dragging her faster and tugging at her clothes.

"What is it?" she gasped, the words sucked from her lungs along with her breath.

"Station airways. This one scrubs staleness out using the Inner Hub. Let's move." Wing continued their headlong rush, but Darsey slowed and fell behind again. He looked back in surprise and then stopped, leaning into the wind, until she reached him. "We can jump through," he shouted. "There's a safety cut-out that will let us pass." Darsey looked doubtfully at the brilliant energy pit and he reached for her hand. "Trust me."

She took a deep breath and almost choked on the humid air. All she could do was nod, but Wing squeezed her hand reassuringly before turning back to the vortex.

There was sudden noise behind them, a crash loud enough to be heard over the wind. It sounded like a large, stone block being thrust aside. Wing took off at once and Darsey was right beside him. She leapt into the energy vent and flew straight through. There was a brief sensation of skin tingling contact and then she was safely past.

Darsey dropped on the other side and fell, to land heavily, despite Wing's quick support. Her ankle twisted awkwardly and she gasped, before her com field strengthened it and she regained her balance. She was standing knee deep in rubbish and rubble. Her foot had turned when she landed on a tilted chunk of rock. She straightened carefully and blinked in the patterned light of two vortices. Twin pools of energy were set above their heads in opposite walls. The one behind Darsey was the one they had escaped through and Wing was already scrambling back up to it.

He called back to her over his shoulder. "You kay?"

"Define kay." She shivered, but then lifted her voice more reassuringly. "Sure, I'm great."

"Good. I've got to destroy the safety settings on those vents."

Wing finished scaling the piled rubble to reach the base of the vortex. He moved nimbly across its front and his forelock lifted in its current of air. He reached a metal plate just below the centre of the energy spiral and paused. "This is ancient-as," he informed Darsey, who watched anxiously from below.

"Can you override its safety protocol?"

"Certain-sure," Wing answered as he pried the rusted lid aside. "It's an easy fry."

"Why no t'ssaa yet?" Darsey wondered, and he smiled grimly.

"They know exactly what I'm doing. Their leader's down and they won't risk a jump without orders. Not when they might be caught by this..." Wing's com surged and there was an answering flash from the vortex control. "No safe way through now," he reported with satisfaction. "Any-all, not once I fry the other vent."

He leapt down from his perch and jumped from block to block, across the high but narrow room. He clambered up to the far field and while he accessed its control, Darsey looked curiously around their sanctuary.

It was hard to see far in the strobing light and the first thing that struck her was the cold. The air was bitterly cold and very still below the wind between the vents. Her breath spiralled upwards as an oddly colored mist before streaming into that current of warmer air. She shivered and peered past her breath at the surrounding walls. The two without vents were a hodgepodge honeycomb of tunnels and holes and foundation piles. Every misshapen passage she could see was carpeted by litter. The Inner Hub had clearly been abandoned and built over long ago. What remained was a forgotten place, fit only for trash and recycling.

Wing landed beside Darsey with a slither of debris and she started when scree flowed over her feet. "Don't get buried," he offered with a grin, and she shivered again. "Use more of your com power for heat if needed," he advised, but she shook her head.

"I can cope. It's just a bit spooky down here."

"It gives frighteners for sure, but that's just imagination. Sadly, we've got more real cares to deal with. There's access all around here."

Darsey's attention returned to Wing's worried face. "You think the t'ssaa will get in? Of course they will. So... we have to break past them and get to Freefall's ship. But how do we get out of here?"

"There's only one way. We let them make a first attack. Payiss will order a full strike, including the vents, but he can't just destroy them. The station needs them and Gratuity's boss will overpower any such attack. What Payiss can do is re-set the safeties."

He raised a hand before Darsey could comment on that grim possibility. "It's kay. It won't work. I've overset those controls, ready to show that the vents are now safe when they aren't. The t'ssaa will jump, but none will pass through. They won't dare to use the vents after such, so we'll be able to pass back through this one all unexpected. I'll place a charge further into the under-maze and explode it during their second attack. That's when we'll exit as we came, fight past any vent guards, sneak to my shuttle and we'll soon be weightless with Free."

"Weightless and free?"

"Also."

"Fine," Darsey agreed, but her smile faded. "First, we just have to fight off fifty t'ssaa. How do we do that? And how come I can beat them up anyway?"

"I think I know," Wing offered, "but we need some defenses first. I'll tell all as we work." He gestured at the larger rubble and then to the junk-filled foundation piles. "We have to block all we can and build some cover, with no back attack."

"Sounds good," Darsey agreed, and moved forward to help

Wing began levering a block into place. There was silence while they strained together and then the rock fell. It tipped past its point of balance and crashed onto the debris below, to become the first step in a rough and ready wall.

Darsey studied the remaining pile, before nodding at a broken pedestal poised above their initial block.

"We'll have to excavate its base to get it moving," Wing pointed out, but she was already digging. He knelt to join her and they worked in comfortable silence, but only for a moment.

"Your body is odd," Wing grunted, digging maniacally through the gravel.

"Thanks a lot. So's your face."

"I meant at a cellular level. Your cells are porous and when you first used my com they absorbed from it."

"Absorbed what?" Darsey asked, sitting back on her heels. That sounded alarming. The kres had definitely been holding out on her.

Wing cleared the last of the detritus to free the second block and the conversation stopped while they tipped it into place. The next chunk they chose was larger and had to be slid straight onto the others, but he talked over the screeching of scree as they pushed.

"Exotic matter. Topline... coms carry panic-use... stores. Someway... the ExM got... into your body. Into... every cell."

The foundation block scraped into place and Darsey collapsed against it. She wasn't that tired, but Wing's crazy theory was enough to make anyone weak at the knees. "That makes no sense."

"Agreed. I don't know how you survived that first time. It must have felt awful and made it near impossible to protect me from Jileea. I'd never risk trying such a thing again, but somehow you did it. You integrated exotic matter and now it's become part of you. Your cells can passage. It's true, Darse. You've seen it, felt it. There are tiny wormholes everywhere and you can open them. Even ships can't do such. You act on a cellular level and I've not seen anything like it. Not ever-all. You're... amazing."

Darsey gazed blankly at Wing and then started to shake her head. "No. That theory's just... impossible. It must be-"

"So is what you do, but you do it." He took her hand, gripping it firmly, and she managed to stop shaking her head. "Easy-as, Darse. Easy. It's huge, I know, but it's all fine too. I promise."

"Is it dangerous? Jileea claimed it could be lethal."

"No," he reassured her. "I wasn't sure, about any of this, which is why I stayed quiet, but now I think not. The time of most risk is long past. You should have died when the ExM entered your cells, but incredibly you didn't. Everything I've seen and scanned since we met again says you're safe."

Darsey studied Wing intently, but all she could see was honest conviction. His concern for her safety seemed as heartfelt as before. "Why?" she asked, and he simply stared at her, apparently unsure what she meant. "Why did you leave me? At the sale and then later with Jileea. We were friends, and I get the feeling we still are. You act like we are anyway. Like you want to help. I mean, we get on so well and have so much in common. We're both exiled and we were both orphaned so young... sometimes on the Bandit it felt like you were my best friend. So," Darsey gulped, "why desert me? And please, just have a good reason."

"Ah." Wing sighed and released her hand. "That's simple enough, but somewhat of a tale too-"

His explanation was interrupted by the distant sound of movement. The noise was faint, a mere murmur of litter brushed by feet, but Wing broke off and swung toward the burrows beyond their unfinished wall. "Drak."

"What?" Darsey wondered, checking her com to see whether it had identified the cause of the rustling, but it was blank.

Wing steadied himself against their fortification and stretched his com arm along one end. She moved to the opposite side and did the same.

The cold air carried the furtive sound of approaching steps clearly and Darsey expected a t'ssaa attack long before she actually saw movement in any of the openings. A shape finally appeared on the ledge of a crooked hollow, just below the height of their barrier. Darsey's gut tightened and her com hummed at fever pitch.

"Hold," Wing hissed while his fronds flicked forward. "It's the boy. Malik."

There was a slither of small stones and then the youngster shot onto the ledge. He teetered on its edge before surrendering his balance and jumping into the rubble below. Angry words rose from the pile and then Malik rose too. He scowled and scrubbed dust from his eyes before looking around.

Wing glanced at Darsey and mouthed "stay back", then edged into the open to confront their guide. "Are you alone and un-followed?" the kres demanded, and the urchin sneered in response.

"Course. Where's my credits?"

Wing raised his wrist and a line of light linked it with the boy's bulky com. "Full paid," he noted tersely, and the boy smacked his dirty lips together.

"Thanks and thanks," he breathed, before sharp silver eyes darted back to Wing. "Where's Darsey-ordinary-muck-lady?"

"Here," Darsey answered and slithered down from the barricade to land lightly beside them.

"Good-as," Malik said happily, even as Wing frowned at her.

She was disguised by a com glamour again and winked at the nagging kres who grimaced, but then tipped his hand in a shrug.

"We're alive, Malik," Darsey pointed out brusquely, "but we're a long way from safe. Can you help?"

"Certain-sure. I can fix it. I know which of these holes misses all the t'ssaa. For a low-as fee, I'll lead you right around Payiss. Just a thousand credits to see you both safe. Aint that a grand offer?"

"No. Too high," Wing snapped, and turned back to the barricade. Darsey bit her tongue and the kres only managed a single stride before Malik hastily called him back.

"Easy now, my lord. I'd not meant to offend, you know. I opened up this high-scale-most-successful-business-venture with a barter and now it's your turn. I see that clear-as. We can to and fro all you wish, even though your lives are at risk. Oooor, we can be more brisk. Show some care for safety. So in your interest, I'll drop down flat to five hundred, but no less. Five hundred is base for such danger as I'd face."

Wing gazed bleakly at his com and his tone was uncompromising. "No deal."

Malik was momentarily speechless and Darsey was equally astonished.

"Aint your lives worth it, then?" Malik demanded, while Darsey gave Wing a hard look before smiling at the boy.

"Of course they are," she assured him, with another pointed look at her companion. "Right, Wing?"

"Too expensive," the kres said tersely, and this time Malik clearly believed him.

The boy quickly backed away, scuttling over the tattered ground.

"Stop," Darsey ordered, placing her hands on her hips and, when the child froze, she turned her gaze back to Wing. "Pay him."

"I can't," he hissed in response.

"Just do it," Darsey whispered back with the same desperation, but he was unmoved.

"Not possible. I'm broke."

Malik's lip curled at the quiet admission and he turned away. He scrambled toward the shadows of the ledge, clearly in a hurry to abandon them.

"Boy," Wing called sharply, and the youngster stopped again, looking down over his shoulder. "How did you know that Payiss leads the t'ssaa? And how could they find this place so quick, even before us?"

Malik hesitated, before smiling mockingly, and then he was gone.

Darsey let her arms fall in despair. She was such a trusting fool. "He was selling us. Selling his help to both sides."

"Ye," Wing agreed bleakly. "And now we're creditless." He shrugged, then gestured to the rocks above their shelter before climbing toward them. He clambered higher, searching for the most useful, while Darsey stood below, struggling to come to terms with Malik's double dealing.

"But, you hadn't paid him everything yet. If those t'ssaa in the vent tunnel had killed us, he would have missed out."

"Certain-sure," Wing called down. "Which means that Payiss paid Malik more than I still owed him. He just got lucky with a double dip."

Darsey closed her eyes and cursed her own stupidity. "How could I be so naïve over a few blond curls?" A horrible thought occurred to her and her eyes flew open. "Wing, how do we know he delivered Harrier safely? What say he gave her up?"

"It's kay," he grunted distractedly. "Harry knew to tag Malik once she was safe. She marked his cheek with an infrared strip that my fronds saw when he returned. We're close friends and we served together. She used to be a Fleet medic, so she knew what to do. I also sent Malik to a dock three away from the ch't'kar, so he has no knowledge of her where-as to sell. Harry knew where to go, because I sent her true details through our coms. She's safe now.'

Darsey took a deep breath and then moved to join Wing. "Well done," she said tightly when she reached him. "The two of you clearly had that all thought out. Thanks for telling me, but good for you. It looks like Harry is better off than us."

Wing looked at her strangely and she didn't blame him. What on earth was wrong with her? She gulped a breath, but it didn't help at all. "I realize we can't trust Malik, but we could have used him some more. We could have told him we were onto him and made him lead the way out of here. Or something," she snapped and Wing's brow furrowed.

Darsey was abruptly embarrassed, but her shame somehow combined with his confused expression to drive her deeper into anger. "We should have been able to keep Malik with us, outbid the t'ssaa and get away. What the hell happened? I thought you were rich," she accused, and Wing's frown deepened at her tone.

"I was."

"Well, what did you spend it all on?"

"You," Wing said simply, and stopped Darsey in her indignant tracks.

Her eyebrows shot up, but that was the only part of her to respond. His answer made no sense to her. None at all. "Me?"

"Truly. Fifty million credits."

Darsey's mouth dropped open, detached from its usual close association with the rest of her face by sheer astonishment. Her opinion of Wing was in freefall while she struggled to digest such a sacrifice. Her brain belatedly understood the contradictions in his recent behaviour, but she had no idea what she was feeling in return. Her mouth snapped shut, only to open again and force out words.

"You... you bought me. Twice?"

"Ye. First time was a bargain, though. It's the second that cut deep-"

Darsey's anger snapped back into focus and she was suddenly on safe ground again. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?" she raged, but Wing's response was calm.

"Why the hail would you have believed me?" he asked reasonably. "I would have said before, truly, but it needed your trust. I felt I'd had my worth of trust from you."

Darsey's mouth opened again, but she had no words ready and had to close it. She shook her head, still unsure if she could believe what she was hearing. Wing shifted his balance on the rubble, as if he was about to move closer and she lifted a warning hand. "Wait. Just wait. I was bought by a desiccated Tetrark, not you. Explain."

"Certain-sure," Wing answered earnestly, and took a second to gather his thoughts. "I realized soon-as that we had no escape from the auction pit. There was no chance to reach the market as planned. So I left you. I'm sorry for that, Darse. I knew they'd be ungentle." Nightwing paused as Darsey made a derisive noise at his understatement. He dipped his head in further apology and she gestured impatiently for him to continue. "Fortunately I thought to contact Crest."

"Tetrark Crest BackBeak."

"No," he corrected at once. "Crest Pinion, my family's lead retainer. I don't know how long he's been with us, forever I think, but he raised Free and me after our parents... Well, he's most like a father to me. He would have seen you safe. Any-all, I told him to use all of my fortune, everything he'd saved from the Arck, to buy you."

"Oh," Darsey breathed, and could hardly hear herself over the strange roaring in her ears. "He must have loved that order."

"He was shocked, but I surely looked desperate, because he agreed."

"Fifty million credits," Darsey repeated through stiff lips, her face now as frozen as her hearing. "Exactly fifty?"

"Not quite," Wing admitted. "Somewhat past forty-nine million was my share. Crest lent me the plus and promised enough extra to pay Greon when he delivered you safe."

Darsey looked at Wing in bewilderment and tried to ignore the rubble that seemed to be tilting under her. "Why? Why fifty million? It was so much. The bidding wasn't even close to that."

"I had to be sure," he said, as though it was an obvious decision. "I couldn't let you be sold, but I was against bidders with many times more credit than me. So I told Crest to bid once, as high as possible. That jump shocked everyone and pushed the auctioneer to seal. He was scared the bidder might retract and so the sale ended full fast. Those who might have matched me were given little chance to recalculate. If it had built slow, they would have thought about your rarity and they would have built with it. My bid had to be high, sudden and a round figure. I needed fifty million, not forty-nine, to avoid looking like a desperate, only bid that could go no higher."

Wing finished his explanation and looked at Darsey expectantly, but she simply stared at him. Her brain was far too busy reprocessing all of their interactions to manage anything as distracting as speech. Wing's behaviour finally made sense. Most of it anyway. She even understand his anger at seeing her on Gratuity.

He spent his entire family fortune to make sure I'd be safe and instead of staying where he'd put me, I blew it, she realized. Just threw it away. Darsey cleared her throat, but, before she could speak, she was interrupted by something much more urgent.

A single, high-pitched shriek echoed from the control panels of the energy fans. It was followed by sparks and then lightning arced across the room. Darsey and Wing slid down the debris slope, scrabbling for cover behind their incomplete wall.

"What's happening?" she demanded, and he grimaced in response.

"Complete reprogramme. The t'ssaa are forcing a safety reset. In a minute, they'll think it's done. We've little time. Are you ready?"

Darsey looked at him helplessly. "Do I have a choice?"

"We need to twin target," Wing answered with a distracted smile. "A single com blast can't break through a defense field. The power levels of most coms are too close. But if we hit the same shield together, our shots will get through."

Darsey took a deep breath. "Okay. I can see that. A wrist com can only channel a finite amount of energy, so we need to combine our firepower to breach their shields. But how come that first t'ssaa attack against the three of us was so bad? They shot right though the dock."

"That was the ship's gun and a sign of full commitment for the t'ssaa to use it against the station. They'll not dare such again. We're safe from all except a com attack, so we can use these blocks for cover. When they shatter, shift full power to your shield. Try to avoid getting multi-targeted when you hand fight the t'ssaa. Stay in their midst and move often."

"Hmmm," Darsey murmured while her mind raced. "What will you do when you have to use all your power on a defense field?"

"Run a lot. Squirm much. Try not to be taken or shot."

"Why can't you strike though their fields the way you did with Greon?"

"No Jileea," Wing explained tersely. "She hooked me into the ship's power, so I had a shield that was stable enough to hold exotic matter and keep it clear of my flesh. Just a touch of ExM ruins cells. Most cells," he amended, with a quizzical glance at Darsey, but she was oblivious to his curiosity.

Her expression was distant and her mental activity so frenzied that her vision darkened. "I'm having an idea," Darsey murmured, and Wing grimaced in response, while his fronds tucked behind his ears.

"I noted." However, before he could ask, her eyes re-focused and she gripped his wrist in sudden excitement.

"Your sword, Wing. Wouldn't your sword tolerate ExM?"

He blinked and then frowned as he considered the question. "My Honor Blade? Its molecule structure would stay stable, but it couldn't cut through an energy field. Matter alone can't be forced past such. The ExM needs to inform an energy field to passage. Like the metabolic field in your cells or the support field now around them." He looked at Darsey apologetically, but she never noticed. Her eyes blazed with excitement and she tapped at his com impatiently.

"Decompress your sword and an energy charge. You can set up a field around your sword, right? The hilt can provide an energy anchor and the blade can give structure to the energy sleeve, and the metal won't be damaged when you add ExM." Darsey's rapid explanation rose to a stop and she flicked Wing's com expectantly. "Right? So get moving."

However, the kres was frozen and staring at Darsey as if he'd never seen her before.

"Are you okay?" she wondered. LDo you get what I mean? Wing? Make the sword the core of an energy field, then add exotic matter. The two will interact, like they do in me, to cut straight though defense fields. You'll be giving the ExM exactly the same combination of matter and energy that I do, right? And the direction, where to passage to, will come from momentum. Your muscles power the blade in one direction and that'll be where it goes."

There was no response from Wing, but another shriek shattered the silence. White light filled their refuge and then strobed wildly, pulsing in time to a series of tortured screeches. The energy vents became maelstroms, releasing sparks and lightning, along with banshee wails.

"What's happening?" Darsey yelled, but Wing's answer was so quiet she could hardly hear it.

"T'ssaa are trying to pass the vents," he said mildly, his eyes unfocused. "The attack is on."

"Wing!" Darsey screamed into Wing's face, and he belatedly looked up.

"They'll be coming through the under maze soon," he stated more clearly, even as he accessed his com. There was a flash of silver and his sword slipped into his hand. "Darsey..." He paused and shook his head. "Your idea is simple-as and utterly brilliant. I don't know why it's never been done before. I guess the best inventions always seem easy looking back." His hands flew over his com and his sword while he talked, racing to turn Darsey's vision into something real.

There was a sudden slither of debris and then stones scattered when t'ssaa leapt from the maze of foundations. The lizards struck with frightening speed, flickering over open ground to find cover in the rubble. Dozens poured into the narrow space, vanishing behind chunks of rock, and more kept coming. They were impossibly outnumbered.

41

Quick Thinking

Darsey's jaw set and she spun to duck close to their makeshift defenses. Her com built blast power in an instant and she looked to Wing for support. However, the kres was still engrossed in his efforts to transform the sword. He answered Darsey's unspoken appeal without looking up.

"Change in plan. Hold fire. Draw them in. Close-as. In a com fight, they have every advantage, but now we can try something new. We need to make this a sword fight, with these blocks for cover, so they have to come close. I don't want our shelter shot to naught while the t'ssaa are still distant."

Wing glanced up, raising an eyebrow, and Darsey nodded. She must have looked as sick as she felt, because he spared her a quick grin before returning to his work. "Snug down while the reptiles try to think this through and keep full power in your shield."

"I'll just relax then," Darsey answered brightly, and made a successful effort to swallow her nausea. She fervently hoped that Wing had no idea how scared she was and checked her com in an effort to ignore the faint noise of shifting scree. Beyond the wall, the t'ssaa were clearly making a stealthy approach.

Twenty-five t'ssaa, she clarified after checking the count displayed above her wrist. Her heart sank at the number. She and Wing were likely to be swamped. Darsey knew that she was only just as fast as a striking t'ssaa and Wing had never matched her speed in their practice bouts. They were horribly outclassed.

She looked across at the kres, but he was still struggling to make her invention work. He seemed unaware of the crest appearing around the edge of the block beside him. Golden scales stretched tightly between sharp spines darted forward, but Darsey was already moving as the attack came.

She launched herself and Wing ducked without looking up, so that she could hurdle him and slam into the t'ssaa. There was a satisfying crunch when she hit and her fear disappeared. She was fighting for her life and there was no more time for thought.

The t'ssaa went down under Darsey and collapsed. She used its face as a launching pad and dove forward when another lizard appeared. This one reacted faster and ducked, so that Darsey slid over its back. It twisted and threw out an arm to fire after her, but the shot never landed. She kicked backwards as she flew past and hit her enemy hard in the chest. She felt the t'ssaa's ribs give, but had no time to be horrified. She landed face first in the rubble and skidded to a halt, cushioned by her arms and her com's defense field. Energy bolts exploded around her when she slid beyond the barricade and the t'ssaa scrambled to land at least two good shots.

Darsey was on her feet and moving in an instant. Going back to the shelter was impossible. The air behind her was thick with fire. The edge of one protective block exploded and shrapnel screamed past Darsey and into the advancing t'ssaa.

She charged forward to meet those still upright and their crests flared in renewed challenge. The nearest launched itself at her and she leapt to meet it. She ducked into her enemy's embrace, pulling the t'ssaa close while a new salvo of fire raked the room. She twisted her fists in her opponent's leather baldric and the trapped fighter shuddered against her when multiple shots hit and then its crest fell, collapsing limply around her head.

Darsey continued to hold the dead t'ssaa as a shield and started a rapid retreat. However, its fellow warriors were too fast. She heard footfalls on all sides and then the corpse was roughly jerked away. Wide-eyed t'ssaa closed in with their coms ready, and she realized there was no escape. There were simply too many to avoid, but Darsey's jaw set against such a fate and she stopped retreating.

She threw herself into their massed ranks instead and the creatures writhed around her, trying to find room for a clear shot. A pulse of energy heated one half of her protective field and another hit the far side straight afterwards. It was only a matter of seconds before two shots arrived together and killed her.

Darsey dropped to the ground and more bolts exploded over her head. She kicked out at the nearest scaled ankle and a t'ssaa fell to join her. She tried to roll under it, but three of its fellows converged on her, coms outstretched. She kicked out again, but this time her opponent was ready and jumped to safety. She tensed helplessly and gritted her teeth, waiting to be shot from all sides.

Instead, a silver streak linked the t'ssaa surrounding her. A shining ribbon cut though the group, leaping from one lizard to the next. It slashed across at waist height, moving so fast that its after image briefly formed a single line. There was a second of stillness and Darsey gaped at the frozen reptiles. Then motion returned to the universe and they collapsed, their body parts tumbling randomly over her.

"Yurk," she choked, and curled into a ball, with her hands clenched. There was a long moment of confusion while Darsey lay hidden and helpless beneath falling t'ssaa. A moment filled by unseen thuds and glancing collisions, before silence belatedly returned.

And it was silence, Darsey realized when she cautiously started to straighten. Everything was quiet, as peaceful as if there had never been a fight. She reached up awkwardly to push aside... something. It moved heavily and she struggled to rise, kicking a further weight off her legs as she pushed herself into a crouch. She looked around the chamber and froze.

Darsey stopped trying to stand and instead sat down hard, tucking her knees up to her chin. Around her was a scene of carnage. The only remaining t'ssaa were dead, cut to pieces. Cauterised body parts were strewn across the rubble and Wing stood perfectly still in the midst of destruction. He was the only person still upright.

"Oh, God," Darsey whispered, and the kres jerked, then turned awkwardly to face her.

"Your energy blade kills extremely well," Wing husked. He started to shake and the sword trailing from his left hand reflected jerky flashes of light.

His distress galvanised Darsey and she somehow found herself on her feet. She lurched downhill and into a stumbling run. She fell straight into her companion, while his free arm swept up to catch her so that they clung together. She could feel his heart thudding even faster than hers. They held each other, sharing wordless distress, but the instant Wing stopped shaking, he pulled away.

"We needs must go," he reminded Darsey, and she stepped back too, only to stand on something softer than rubble. She jumped forward again and he steadied her while they exchanged another shaken look. "You kay?"

"I'm fine," Darsey said tautly. "How many did you...? That is, did any get away?"

"Ye." Wing gulped. "Some. I've no true count. Not now. Let's just go, quick-as." He turned toward the energy vortex that they had jumped through a lifetime ago.

Or several t'ssaa lifetimes, Darsey thought grimly. She picked her way after Wing, managing to find a reasonably stable path, despite her determination not to look down at what she was crossing. She completed an awkward scramble up to the vent with relief.

Darsey's plait lifted in a crosswind and she was surprised to realize that the station had returned to normal operation. The steady breeze seemed eerily aloof from the destruction beneath. It was fresh and bracing, scrubbed of its foetid warmth by the vortex and still untouched by the death below. They both breathed deeply and Wing lost his pallor.

"You good?" he asked Darsey, before bending to the exposed control panel at the base of the vent.

"Good? Sure," she managed wryly. "I'm fine. How about you?"

Wing glanced up from reprogramming the vortex. "Sick to the gut," he answered succinctly, and turned back to his work.

"Wing, I'm sorry. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Should I take the sword?"

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, but then his mouth twitched in the echo of a smile. "No, thank you. Our flight is hopeless unless we both fight, and I'm actually fast with a blade. Much faster than when I try your unnamed combat."

"That's unarmed combat." Darsey smiled, and Wing grunted as he turned back to the vortex control.

"More suited," he agreed, "and such is the same with me. A sword was placed in my hand as soon as I could form a fist. It's court tradition, but now my body feels lost without a blade. No, we'll fight together and if it feels like slaughter, I'll think of what they had planned for us."

"Good idea. Are we almost ready?"

"Nearly done."

Wing grunted when a pulse flashed from the control space. That lurid light briefly turned his complexion sickly green and Darsey felt her own stomach tighten in response.

"We're ready," she realized, and he clambered up to join her, where she balanced on the lip of the whirlwind.

"True," Wing agreed and then he jumped. He leapt into the vortex without warning and passed straight through it. He disappeared while Darsey was left behind, gaping after him. She swore in furious response, but her single word was cut by the energy barrier when she threw herself through it. She left only half an echo behind to fade in the chilly space.

She hoped Wing heard the second syllable arrive behind him and had some idea what it meant. He was way too busy to actually see her arrive. The airway had been guarded by five of the lizards, but only two were still alive.

Darsey watched their backs recede as they fled with all of their species' fluid grace. Wing flicked his sword from the torso of the t'ssaa at his feet and took off after the survivors. He powered uphill to the mouth of the passage and Darsey was left behind again.

She didn't waste her breath on curses this time, but took off after him. She flew from the tunnel and skidded to a halt behind the nearest cover. Where had the kres got to?

Wing's head appeared over the wall sheltering her and she slammed backwards into the building behind. The jerk actually had the cheek to laugh.

"Don't ever do that again," she ordered in a clipped voice. "If we plan to fight together, then that's what we do. Any more heroic, solo charges and you will be in deep crap. Understood?"

"I truly hope not," he said with some bemusement, while his smile faded. "Your speech is strange, but most vivid. I understand that you're unpleased and I'll not do such again."

"Good," Darsey snapped, and they leaned out together to check for danger. There was no sign of movement and both com scans were negative. "Shall we?" She darted forward before Wing could answer and made him sprint to catch her as she ran for the closest alley. She stopped behind the shelter of a rusted pillar and he gripped her elbow before she could move on. Her head snapped round, but he seemed unmoved by her glare.

"Lead if you must," Wing whispered, "but not direct to the docks."

Darsey hesitated and her expression softened to a frown. "They'll be expecting that."

"Ye, but I've an escape they'll not think of. It takes us closer to the Hub, though. Look."

Wing raised his wrist and Darsey leaned forward to study the map scrolling above his com.

The details flowed past, diving from Gratuity's docks toward their present position. Tiny images of herself and the kres appeared, perched on a line of light representing the alley. Other lines branched around it, in a maze that grew increasingly complicated, until it was almost too thick to decipher, before merging to form fewer, thicker lines in the centre of the city.

Wing flicked a finger and another image appeared, closer to the heart of the Hub. Slim figures in iridescent robes were moving quickly down a spiral ramp and deeper into the planet.

"Gentik?" Darsey wondered, and Wing flicked off the map in response.

"Ye," he agreed tersely as he straightened and beckoned her to follow. "The same group who met with Payiss. I left a tag for such and now we can hunt them. I knew they'd gather DNA from our hide place if they could." He moved on into the alley, increasing his pace when Darsey joined him. He winked at her when they started to run and she had to smile back.

"Do all your cells have tracers?" she wondered, and he nodded a finger in response.

"That's usual for high-rank kres, but I made mine sneaky-as. Even the gentik missed them." Wing's grin was more savage this time and he broke into a full combat run.

Darsey matched him easily enough, but their pace was too frantic for further talk. They hurtled deeper into the Hub, leaping down levels and hurdling railings as they raced to catch the gentik. The buildings around them grew taller and more stately, but the streets remained empty. Citizens of Gratuity knew how to hide when an alarm sounded, especially one followed by explosions. They moved deeper into the apparently deserted Hub without distraction. The safety of concealing alleys and angled buildings grew sparse, but it scarcely seemed to matter. There was no hint of pursuit at all. When Wing was forced to lead them out onto a wide boulevard, Darsey followed without hesitation.

They raced along its open space, their footfalls ringing from the marbled stone pavers that bordered its travel zones. The road started to slope downwards and Wing slowed to a lope. Darsey matched his pace and lifted her gaze to see the brightly dressed group of gentik further down the hill.

The geneticists seemed oblivious to the approaching couple and scurried on down the street without looking back. However, darker, more solid figures appeared between Darsey and the fleeing band. The newcomers fell back to form a line between the gentik and their pursuers.

Wing slowed even more, until he and Darsey had dropped to a walk. "Guardians," he murmured as the poised figures grew closer. "They keep the gentik safe, so they're bred with speed and strength. Their armour energy absorbs too. Take care."

She studied the approaching bodyguards with renewed interest. There were five in the protective line, two female and three male, but they all shared the same impassive expression. Their features were gentik and their close-cropped hair multi-hued, but they had kres fronds and their skin colors ranged from pale silver to dark gold.

They all wore identical black clothing made from overlapping plates and spirals of something more rigid than fabric. Although their faces were bare, the strange armour had woven collars with open strands that rose high at the back to frame each wearer's head. That delicate web seemed too fine to offer much protection, but matched the rest of the design, which also favored mobility over defense. The torso was more fully covered, but the limbs had only a few metal curves that left the joints free to move. Darsey wondered whether the armour was worn largely for show or tradition, as it seemed unlikely to stop an energy blast, but her attention slipped away from such intriguing details when the largest of the guardians stepped forward.

"Halt," he ordered, and the approaching couple obediently stopped.

Darsey flicked a glance past the confronting row of guardians to the still-retreating gentik, who were rapidly disappearing down the street.

"Sah Guardian," Wing called quickly, with no attempt to disguise his urgency, "we wish to barter. Biologics for a shuttle." He too looked past their immediate adversaries, but the distant scientists showed no signs of stopping.

"No trade," the guardian answered succinctly. "My Makers have sufficient of kres trace. Also, you stink of death. Destruction hunts you. You must stay far from those in our care."

Wing started to protest, but Darsey raised a hand to stop him and sent an order to her com to drop her automatic disguise. Her human form reappeared and every frond in the guardian group writhed to target her. She smiled wryly at their surprise, even as her skin tingled with the return of the glamour field. "I doubt your boss has enough of my DNA," she pointed out, but the lead soldier was unmoved.

"The alien trace was abandoned. My Makers will not face further risk to gain it."

Darsey bit her lower lip and turned to Wing, but his gaze snapped left and, at the same time, every guardian looked left too. She turned in response, to face the same direction and focus on the closest side street, but it seemed to be empty. She made an effort to relax, despite the extended fronds of her companions, because any approaching danger was still too distant to see. She held her position facing the intersection, but directed her words at the guardian leader.

"You may have an 'alien trace', but trust me, you want more than a trace of my DNA."

"Irrelevant," the warrior stated crisply, and started to retreat, followed by his team. "You have no more time to deal."

Darsey would have loved to argue with that blunt summation, but unfortunately the guardian was right. Five t'ssaa sprinted into sight and raced from the side street at frightening speed. Their attack was so quick that she scarcely had time to run.

Darsey fled after the retreating guardians and the t'ssaa ignored her. They headed straight for their target instead and in seconds they were on Wing. They circled him to prevent escape and then paused.

Darsey stopped too, before softly drifting back toward the immanent fight. None of the reptiles even glanced her way. They were fixated on Wing and when a sword dropped into his hand a chorus of hisses bounced from the buildings lining the street. A crest curved forward and its owner's body followed it when the t'ssaa leapt.

The blade sliced once.

The other t'ssaa piled into battle anyway, too committed to stop. The blade sliced again and the next wave went down. Those behind them had definitely forgotten Darsey. She punched straight through the force field of the warrior at the back and it fell to its knees. It twisted from one side to the other, while its eyes roamed the street as if trying to discover the source of its collapse. Her leg flicked out and a kick to its temple made it crumple and lie still.

Darsey used the momentum from that blow to spin back to the fight, but it was already over. Wing pulled his blade from the chest of the only t'ssaa still standing and it toppled to join the bodies of its comrades. The couple exchanged a sober look and he stepped over his last victim to join her.

She turned at the sound of footsteps and faced the returning guardians. Those warriors approached them more warily this time, stopping when they were still ten paces away and their armour looked different. It was now encased in a violet glow that also covered their faces and any bare skin.

"Impressive," the guardian leader stated, staring through the lavender haze surrounding him with open curiosity. "The weapon is ingenious, but even more impressive is the ability to hit past a protective field." His brown and gold eyes shifted toward Darsey, along with his fronds, and those of his entire team. "That is truly unique, the skill to passage flesh through a field. We wish to offer a deal for a sample of your cells, Lady."

"I thought your Makers wouldn't risk further contact with me."

"Such is sooth, but we are not so timid. We wish our own sample. We offer in exchange a guardian sliver ship, complete with a fully powered cloak. Do we deal?"

"A moment," Darsey answered gravely, before she turned and tipped her head to whisper in Wing's ear. "Is that a good offer?"

"Ye, it's a hidden ship," he murmured in response, "but-"

"Deal," Darsey agreed, turning away from Wing before he could finish objecting. He frowned and shook a finger at her hasty response, but she was ready for his protest. "You have another way off this rock?" she asked reasonably, and he could only scowl.

"Darsey, you don't know what you're doing. These folk are masterly gene teks too. They can use your DNA in ways unthought-"

"Wing," she interrupted more gently. "Thanks for the concern and you're probably right, but we are out of options. Okay?"

The kres took a deep breath and then slowly nodded. "Kay," he agreed glumly, "but I truly hope we never regret this."

Darsey silently agreed, but, despite her reservations, she raised her wrist to accept the guardians' offer. However, when the two coms linked, there was more than a simple exchange of data. She flinched when heat circled her arm and then recoiled from sudden pain. The energy stream linking their wristbands was broken and Pertwing made a silent query. Do you wish to give tissue or no?

"Yes," Darsey answered aloud, when she realized that her part of the deal was about to be taken. She straightened her arm and stood quite still while the link was re-established. She stayed silent and unmoving when that contact suddenly intensified, to slash around her wrist. The energy link vanished and she looked down in time to see red beads circling her arm, before her com sealed the cut.

"Come," the guardian ordered, and turned to lead them deeper into Gratuity, but closer to escape.

42

Escape

Darsey squirmed on her back in an effort to change position without elbowing Wing in the ribs. The sliver was a fast and agile ship, primarily because it was designed for only one person. It was little more than a diamond-shaped dart and the single, contoured couch that filled the cabin was a tight fit for the couple lying awkwardly side by side. The ceiling above them was alight with views of Gratuity, the ships around it and an approaching passage point, but she was having trouble concentrating on the visual feed.

Instead, she was intensely aware of Wing beside her and of her inability to put any space between them. She sighed quietly and closed her eyes. The present situation represented their entire relationship far too exactly for comfort and she abruptly realized that she was sick of it. She opened her eyes to stare unseeing at the bright ceiling above.

"Wing." Her peripheral vision registered movement when he looked toward her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the visuals overhead. "I just want to say..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you. Just, for everything. I really appreciate it."

Silence fell between them again, but not for long.

"Darse..." Darsey finally turned to face Wing and both swallowed when their eyes met. "I just want to say..." he continued.

"Yes?"

"You're most welcome, and thank you too. I can scarce believe you trusted me again."

Darsey smiled and finally admitted something to herself, as much as to Wing. "Actually, I always trust you. I can't seem to help it. It just happens, even when I swear it won't. Especially when I swear it won't."

Wing rolled toward Darsey and kissed her. The embrace was so sudden she had no time to protest. His lips brushed hers, warm and surprisingly soft. She opened her mouth to complain, but for some reason pushed her tongue into the kiss instead.

Well, that was... delicious- no, it was weird. Definitely odd. Her only mission was to get home. Get back to Earth and warn everyone. Making out with an alien wasn't part of the plan. Although... surely one kiss couldn't hurt and the kres was tasty. Amazingly tasty and it was definitely his fault that she arched up against him. It just felt so-

"Ah," Wing groaned and Darsey realized she'd bitten his lower lip.

"I'm sorry," she tried to pull back, but he grinned against her mouth and returned for more. She started to push against his shoulders... to push him away, but her arms slipped higher, around his neck while her fingers tangled in his hair.

Thought stopped and doubt disappeared. Her world became a crazy place of contrasts. The cold of space, pushed back by the heat between them. His soft mouth and hard body. The blunt curve of his head and the sharp metallic edge of the crest in his hair.

Pain kissed Darsey's finger. She must have cut it, but she didn't care. She scarcely noticed and she was equally unaware of the siren that started shrieking in her ear. The only input she wanted was from Wing and he was just as committed. The alarm must have washed over him too, because he didn't pause.

His hands curled around her waist on one side and the curve of a hip on the other, while his fronds rested lightly against her throat and cheek. Their touch made her sigh and then jump when his mind managed to reach hers. Despite the shock of that mental contact, she made no effort to escape. The intimacy simply drew her deeper.

Darsey's body merged with his, when cells slipped past each other in an impossible way. She had never felt anything as exquisite, or as terrifying. Part of her mind was shrieking in alarm, but it was easy to ignore. She sloughed it off as simply as the annoying alert. She was only distantly aware of her passaging power and the risk it posed. No vague caution could compete with the intensity of that kiss.

It took a much more immediate peril for that. A strobing light joined the wail of the ship's alert and Wing finally jerked his lips away from Darsey.

"Guano," he swore against her cheek. He was somehow lying on top of her and squirmed awkwardly away. She finally managed to push back against his shoulders, but still had to unwind her legs from his before they could separate. The kres flipped onto his back and swore again at the multiple trails arcing across their ceiling.

"T'ssaa missiles," Darsey guessed, and Wing raised a finger in assent. "But they can't see us, can they?"

"No," Wing agreed grimly, "which is why they're not shooting at us. Those missiles are locked on some idiot making a panic run for passage."

"Bad for him," Darsey agreed, "but good for us, right?"

"Most good for us," Wing snarled, and she looked at him in surprise. "The fool trying to run is our ch't'kar merchant," he explained through clenched teeth. "Harrier is on that trader."

They both looked back to the grim picture above, where the ship that Darsey should have been aboard was the target of a dozen converging missiles. It started to weave, swooping erratically through empty space, but its chances of avoiding every missile were nil.

"No, truly no," Wing breathed in useless entreaty. However, his actions showed no hesitation as he did the only thing he could to help and dropped their ship's protective cloak.

The guardian sliver suddenly appeared to every eye, frond and scan near Gratuity – a shooting star, burning through space at full power when Wing diverted all of the cloaking energy he could. Most of the t'ssaa missiles instantly swung toward their new target. Darsey tensed beside him, but made no protest, and he sent her mental thanks.

"No problem," she husked, but his reply made no sense.

"We need extraction now, Free," he said brusquely and Darsey belatedly realized he wasn't talking to her. "Sorry about the pickup call, but we're far from Point. We're playing bait, so we'll have to meet at full speed. Just open wide and leave the dock to me. And Free, be quick. We're too warm welcome here."

Darsey's attention switched to the display above, where danger logos showed the approaching trails of ten t'ssaa missiles. "They're coming fast," she murmured, but was reassured by what she could feel where Wing's body rested against hers.

He was perfectly relaxed and his soft chuckle sounded genuine. "No matter and no worry. Just enjoy some kres flying."

The missiles were almost on them, and a whistling siren sounded, while the display above started to flash. Wing's hands rose from his chest and into a new hologram floating above him. His fingers settled into each control spot and then he was still again.

The pursuing missiles were now so close that they filled the entire ceiling and Darsey had to look away, turning into her companion's shoulder instead. She felt the ship keel over and sudden tension in Wing's arm, then g-forces that even the damping field couldn't hide when the ship corkscrewed through space. There was a roar and everything shook as if dragons had seized the sliver. She shuddered too and then quiet returned.

"That passed well," Wing murmured into Darsey's hair. "You can come out any-when."

"Sure," she muttered, suddenly flustered to realize that she was gripping his upper arm. "I knew we were fine. I was just having a nap."

Wing laughed in response and Darsey managed to un-wedge herself and twist onto her back again. She studied the new images above with relief. "Harrier's ship avoided its missiles too. They're going to make point." She paused and checked the data again. "Are we angling away from passage?"

"Ye. We'll release some energy bursts to draw off pursuit from Harry, plus give Free a clear entry – ah. There he is." A purple ship shot from passage, to flash past the ch't'kar vessel and veer toward the sliver. "Nice exit angle. Free has a good nav senior," Wing stated approvingly, but Darsey was less impressed.

"Wing," she interrupted sharply, "is Freefall's ship trying to hit us?"

"I certain-sure hope so."

43

Out of the Frying Pan

On the Grace's bridge, Free ordered his ship straight at the sliver's trail of energy leaks and slumped back into his padded seat. He could feel his Nav Senior's concern and was secretly amused that he was about to add to it.

"Keep straight on," he ordered serenely, "and drop the field on the aft-two-up cargo bay."

"Sah," his officer protested, "at such speed, there's no chance your cousin can safely hit an open cargo port."

"That's Wing's problem. Keep your curve tight to the towing buoy and then flip straight back to passage." Free lounged in his seat and his gaze moved between data feeds with smooth satisfaction. He hadn't felt this thoroughly happy... well... ever, he realized. He had to remind himself that he and his crew were deep in enemy space and still being hunted by their own ruler.

A guardian sliver appeared from empty space in the visual in front of him, along with Wing's ident tag. "Drop shield," Free ordered and Gull appeared at his shoulder.

"There's missiles following," he pointed out sourly.

"I see them, Senior. NS, you'll reset the shield at my say." However, instead of watching the guardian ship when it darted forward then curved toward them, Free leaned back and closed his eyes.

He felt his Nav Senior's alarm and slitted his eyes to watch her. She shifted in her seat to stare at Gull, who looked stonily back while his fronds darted in her direction. She immediately turned back to her system display. The sliver's course showed as a simple curve across the nest, set, predictable and easy to intercept. For ships and for missiles, the NS thought, before hunching her shoulders and sending a sense of apology to Free.

He ignored the slip and opened his eyes fully. He had faith in his cousin, but he still understood his officer's concern. This rescue was due to get interesting.

The sliver was curving to meet them without a single course correction. Wing's initial darting acceleration was all he'd used to line up on the cargo bay and if he managed to reach that target without further manoeuvres, it would be the most impressive piloting Free had ever seen.

"Drak me," his NS blurted when the sliver's signal merged without changing course at all. The sparks of a dozen missiles dived straight after it.

"Now,' Free barked as soon as he felt Wing's mind, and the Grace's shield enveloped them all, just before the missiles slammed into it. The ship rocked, shaken from stem to tip by the impact, and restraint fields appeared throughout the nest. The crew was safely cocooned when the swerving vessel curved back toward passage.

"System movements," Free demanded of the computer, and was instantly englobed by a visual of surrounding space. He sat inside a sphere of information that spun around him and checked for highlighted motion. "Four t'ssaa lifting and one already in space. We'll certain-sure take passage before any of those five can and before their missiles reach us."

The restraint fields vanished when the Grace settled into steady acceleration and Free looked past the visuals to survey his crew. He checked Clear first and she smiled when she sensed his attention, but remained focused on her own, much more complicated, data displays. He studied the rest of his officers in turn, but was interrupted by a chime from the link that announced the approach of guests.

Free launched himself across the nest at the same moment that Wing hurtled into it. The pair met beyond the grouped consoles and grasped each other's upper arms, to spin around that point of impact. Both were grinning hugely and too busy pounding shoulders and backs to notice the more discreet arrival of a second figure.



Darsey floated into the huge nest unnoticed and dragged a toe against the lip of the link as she exited, to halt at the edge of that immense space. She had thought the Bandit's control centre was impressive, but the heart of the Grace dwarfed it. Its huge globe had the atmosphere of a cathedral. A golden glow highlighted the consoles where they hovered together, like a lamp placed in a distant window.

Darsey's jaw dropped and that stunned reaction had an unexpected consequence. Something fell from her mouth when it opened and she caught it automatically. A further second passed before she could drag her eyes away from the spectacle around her and look instead at what she had caught. A sliver of white nestled in her palm and she frowned in surprise, lifting it for a closer inspection. It seemed to be a shard of tooth. She quickly ran her tongue over her teeth, but they were all intact.

"Where did this come from?" she murmured to her com, and was answered by an equally subdued Pertwing.

"It's not yours, but the edge of Nightwing's most left incisor."

"What?" Darsey choked, closing her hand quickly around the fragment. "I don't understand. How did part of Wing's tooth end up in my mouth?"

"It started with an exchange of saliva, but then you took more. There was a most strange and dangerous merging of cells-"

"No," Darsey objected, trying very hard to forget the unforgettable. "I mean, he must have damaged it earlier when we were fighting the t'ssaa-"

She was interrupted by a dark-gowned figure which brushed past her to send her spinning. The collision sent the tooth shard flying and Darsey steadied herself to glare at the newcomer.

A wizened kres swathed in multiple black skirts that seemed to have orbits of their own, slowed to float serenely forward, without a glance for the victim of her entrance. She seemed completely oblivious to their collision, a skill Darsey had to admire even as it annoyed her. The elderly arrival was the smallest and oldest person she had ever seen and trailed a cane behind her, which rapped smartly against Darsey's ankle before its owner floated on toward Free and Wing's enthusiastic reunion.

"Well done, my dears." The old lady's voice rang around the nest with unexpected force, making Darsey jump. "Well done indeed. Now we can all die together and that is such a comfort."

"It should be." Darsey's tart rejoinder bounced from the curved walls even louder than Lady Grace's sharp tones and everyone in the nest turned to stare at her. She flushed at the reaction to her outburst, but then shrugged an unrepentant shoulder. "For now anyway. We're about to leave this system and after what we just came through, that's good enough for me. I intend to enjoy every second of my life until the t'ssaa catch up."

There was a stunned silence and Darsey raised her chin defiantly, but Wing was grinning at her. "Sounds most good," he agreed. He glancing at his cousin before gesturing her closer. She obeyed and Wing moved to meet her. "I'd like you to know my cousin, Sector Leader Freefall FarFlight." He turned back to complete the introduction. "This is Darsey Ice and I owe her my life."

Darsey smiled and Free dipped his head in return, but he made no effort to shake her arm. The old lady wafted forward to interpose herself between Darsey and the other kres.

"Greetings, Wing. I note you haven't changed." A cold gaze from eyes almost lost in wrinkles slid briefly over Darsey and kept on going. "It may be normal for you to pick up females, even in the middle of a battle, but a Harvester? Being a pirate has done nothing for your taste, boy."

Free looked as uncomfortable as Darsey felt, but Wing laughed in relief and flicked his fingers at her.

"You're still in disguise."

"Oh, my God. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I like you in dress-up."

Darsey threw him a warning look, but his grin widened when she dropped the camouflage. There was a startled murmur from every kres and even the old lady failed to suppress a hiss. Free turned to greet his guest with obvious relief.

"Welcome on, Darsey Ice. I'm truly pleased to meet you and make ties with a new people."

"Thank you, Sector Leader. I'm really pleased to be on b-board," Darsey gasped and broke off when he offered a traditional court greeting. He grasped her hand gently, before raising it to kiss the inside of her wrist. She felt her cheeks heat despite the gesture being brief and he quickly released her, looking down at his own hand in apparent surprise. He jerked into an awkward bow and floated backwards to open a space between them.

"When we're safe, you can tell me how you met my challenged cousin."

Darsey glanced at the closest data display, checking the time remaining before passage while the four of them wafted toward the nest consoles.

"The highlights won't take long," she assured Free, and proceeded to tick off the relevant points on her fingers. "His ship kidnapped me, he bought me as his slave, made me sleep with him, sold me at auction, bought me again, imprisoned me and then abandoned me with pirates."

"Darsey!"

"Did I leave something out?" she asked and then widened her eyes as innocently as she could. "Oh, yes, despite all that, I still saved your life. Twice."

"And I bought you. Twice." He looked quickly at the approaching kres, who were clearly shocked. "It added to the same thing."

"Lame," Darsey murmured, and Free laughed.

"I hope that tale unfolds better in full."

"Only for me," Darsey assured him, and he gave her a charming smile that was the mirror of Wing's.

"I guessed such," he replied, but was interrupted by a call from the Navigation Senior.

"Sah, we're at point. Opening passage." The air above her console seemed to coalesce, growing brighter while they watched, until it abruptly started to spin. A colored whirlpool appeared and elongated in front of them, to become an apparently solid tunnel. "Passage is stable, Leader."

"Straight in, NS. Let's put some space behind our tails."

Their view of the open singularity changed even before Free finished speaking. The ship leapt forward and into twisted space. Those pulsating passage walls seemed to expand around them, sliding past to coat the inside of the nest. Their eerie light colored everything inside that globe-turned-tunnel and Darsey gazed down at her hands in wonder. She looked back up and smiled at the rainbow pattern on Nightwing's golden skin, but he was frowning as he looked down the length of the passage.

"Explosion," he barked and everyone turned to the tunnel's exit. It could finally be seen at the far end of the image. The faint dot grew, but instead of the black of space, it was yellow and orange, and then red.

"Explosion indeed," Free agreed grimly. "Prepare for an overly warm welcome, people."

His order freed the crew from stasis and they were all busy at their consoles when the Grace burst into normal space. It was instantly tossed backwards by a series of shockwaves and something screeched along its tumbling hull. Darsey could see space spinning past in the images around her, but there was no matching sense of movement. Instead, she was cushioned by an invisible cocoon.

"Eight battleships, sah," a pretty, blonde kres called over the protests of the hull. "A total range of types and no ident sent. They're mercenary... and they're targeting us."

The crew all turned toward Free and Darsey's gaze followed them. He nodded gravely back and opened his mouth, but Wing spoke first. "Open the passage again. ExM it now, and run us straight back."

"There are t'ssaa behind, those following us-" the Nav Senior protested, but Wing overrode her.

"Do it," he ordered flatly and although his voice was calm, she gestured to release exotic matter before Free could underlined the command. The coruscating light of an active passage filled the nest again and the Grace flipped end-for-end to power back toward it.

"Did we open it quick enough?" the Leader barked, and the blonde officer, who was clearly the Data Senior, reassured him before anyone else could.

"The passage is now our-side open, sah. The ships in pursuit from Gratuity failed to reach it in time. They're stuck there until we shut it down from this direction."

"They won't meet us in the middle?" Darsey asked, and was abruptly the focus of everyone's attention.

"Of course not." An older kres with a short fuzz of gray hair and no console seat frowned at her. "A passage spreads from the input of exotic matter and it flows in one direction. How were you taught, to not know that?"

"It's a long story. Even if they can't use the passage point, I guess they'll still be waiting for us at the other end, right?" A grim silence was sufficient answer and Darsey looked back to the light streaming from the main display. "So we need to get off before the end of the line. Can we do that?" She turned to Wing, who was clearly the only kres seriously considering her question. "Wing, you break and enter, right? So open another passage that pulls us to a different exit."

Darsey's suggestion was greeted by silence. She glanced around the crew, who were looking at her with various combinations of disbelief and sympathy.

"Even when we force open small singularities to travel along, the forces are enormous," the Data Senior offered uncertainly. "We'd need a huge singularity to override the pull of the passage that we're already in."

"Huge, ye, certain-sure," Wing interrupted with sudden animation. "The Great Attractor. Its pull is so strong it can all-times be felt in every passage we take."

"Could you let us be pulled toward it? Would that work?" Darsey breathed, and he shrugged a hand.

"Certain-sure, but our exit would be more than bumpy. And if we crossed the horizon of such, we'd be paste."

"So drop out before the end, before we reach the black hole. That should be easy, right? Don't you have to work hard to hold a passage open?"

"Ye, but once you have such you can't just collapse it. It would crush us too. We'd have to force a proper exit, an actual gap in the exotic matter flow."

Wing sighed and Darsey's gut clenched. She swallowed her dread behind a smile.

"Too bad we don't have anti-matter, or anti-exotic matter, or something." Darsey jumped when Wing's hands closed around her upper arms. He gave her a small shake and one of the most intense looks she'd ever seen.

"You're a genius."

Wing released Darsey and spun toward the navigation console. He launched himself toward it with a tap of his toe and she followed almost as quickly.

"What do you think?" the kres asked Free, who joined them at speed.

"Best plan we have. DS, convert ninety percent of our exM to exotic anti-matter. Will that be enough?"

He shared a glance with his cousin and they both laughed.

"Who can guess?" Wing returned to studying the figures the NS offered on the passage that they were traversing all too fast.

"We needs must drop free soon, sah," she pointed out, "or we'll move past the end point and be crushed by passage collapse anyway."

The tension in Darsey's gut rose to tighten the back of her throat, but movement from the link distracted her. An elderly kres in rich livery and a handful of followers slipped in to join them. They floated across the nest without invitation, but no one challenged them and they stopped to hover around the old lady.

"This could leave us flatter than a second date without sex," a voice growled and Darsey jerked back to see the gray haired kres floating behind her.

"We've options of this or none, Gull," Free answered calmly. "NS, surrender your station to Lord Nightwing. Quick-as." He turned to gesture at his cousin and although his voice was steady a sheen of sweat had formed on his upper lip. "Wing, fly true."

"Always do," his cousin answered laconically as he slid into the rapidly vacated seat. Darsey pulsed her com to stop just behind him and clutched the back of the chair. The computer shrilled and a lightning bolt cut through the display, making her fingers tighten convulsively.

"What the hell was that?"

"The computer doesn't like what I'm doing," Wing said distractedly. "It's programmed to stop any passage from being pulled to the heart of our galaxy."

"What?" Darsey squeaked. "That's the singularity you're using? The black hole at the centre of the galaxy? That's where we're going?"

"It was your idea," Wing murmured, his fingers flying. "Don't worry. I've overthrown the safety protocols."

"What a relief," Darsey managed dryly, but the response to Wing's override was frighteningly fast. A new light filled the chamber, bright and harsh, rendering everything in the nest stark against the slow spin of a massive passage.

"Holy Gods," someone croaked as the Grace dived into it.

An eerie silence fell, broken only by the faint hum of Wing's hands within the control field. He didn't seem to be piloting the ship through that extreme tunnel, letting it twist as it wished, while he pushed their newly created exotic anti-matter ahead, searching for the faintest hint of an exit.

Darsey leaned closer, breathless and shaking.There was nothing. The massive passage looked solid and unbreachable. Wing hunched forward too and sweat appeared on his upper lip, in belated mimicry of his cousin. Darsey saw it and gulped, but managed to stay quiet. For an agonising moment the ship skidded on, then it quivered and the hull groaned. Wing bared his teeth and released the ship's entire store of exotic anti-matter. Darsey watched it stream ahead of their crumpling vessel and finally saw a response.

There, at last. A flicker in the forces surrounding them, a weaker spot in the passage wall. Wing's lip curled further and he made a feral sound when he forced their small supply of anti-matter into the exotic matter flow of the passage. The side of the tunnel split and, as it ruptured, Wing collapsed the rest. He let it fall in on them and ordered full thrust from the engines, driving the ship back into space and time.

There was a moment of intense pressure as the universe became a vice that made the Grace squeal. Darsey was briefly caught in amber and then the air changed back from a solid to a gas and she could breathe again. The strobing light of the monster passage vanished to leave the nest in darkness. She sagged over Wing in his seat until her vision returned, along with the soft lighting of the consoles. The crew had collapsed too, but the weird distortions in the ship's structure were gone.

"Gods," Wing murmured, and looked wearily up at Darsey. "Never ask such again. Kay?"

She found a shaky grin and offered it in response. "We're alive and I don't think anyone's going to follow us."

"They'd have to be mad," he agreed, and they shared a more genuine smile.

"At least."

A hand fell on each of their shoulders and Free floated behind them. "I've no understanding of what you just did, but for all on this ship I say thanks. I owe a debt to you both."

"True enough." Gull cleared his throat in awkward gratitude. "But, ah... where are we?"

They all turned to the main data console, which was already lit with local data. A yellow sun glowed above her, circled by six planets. Four were marked as gas giants, but the two closest to the star were both solid, with magnified views of their surfaces projected beside them.

"I'm still tracking stars to fix our relative position, sah," the Data Senior said. "We're well into this system and it shows two habitable worlds. There's no sign of sentient life. No buildings, no chat, no artifice light sources. Atmospheric readings are all plus and no negatives. The air's breathable."

"On both?" Free wondered, and she spared him a smile that seemed unusually warm for an officer.

"They both seem liveable." The DS stopped and frowned at her console. "This is super odd, sah. They share almost the same orbit. Both planets are a similar distance from their star, but on opposite sides of it."

A surprised murmur filled the nest and Free floated away, to rest his hand on the back of his officer's seat. "When will they strike?"

"They won't, sah, because they travel at the exact same speed. They'll all times circle opposite each other."

This time there was silence, until the old lady cleared her throat. "So the pretty purple planet and the pretty cream planet are perfect matched in size and speed and orbit. Where are we, girl, and how far from home?"

"Of course," the DS muttered, tearing her gaze from the planetary visual and back to her calculations. "Still working, but we're well clear of known space."

Darsey ignored the murmurs around her to keep her attention fixed on the primary data console. The image above it zoomed out and then out again, until much of the galaxy appeared. Kres territory was highlighted, along with the ship's present position.

There was a single, soft cry, but otherwise silence. Even to Darsey the crew's home looked impossibly distant. She noticed something else and blew air sharply over her teeth in a low whistle.

"Lucky we broke free when we did. The surrounding stars are already densely packed. Any further into the galaxy and we'd never survive their radiation."

Gull ignored Darsey's comment and pushed straight past her. He clutched the back of the Data Senior's chair so violently that Free had to snatch his hand away. Gull claimed his leader's spot, hovering beside the blonde officer and studied her data so closely that he leaned forward into her projection.

"We need to step back through those same passages again," he ordered. "Match them perfect plus and fly home. We could finish with three quick-jumps to kres space."

"Not possible, sah," the DS protested, trying to point out the system they had first fled to from Gratuity, without poking her superior in the eye. "Even if we could find the path back, that system was held against us. Before we left I scanned eight enemy ships and fresh debris. They destroyed the ch't'kar trader that jumped through ahead of us."

A chill trickled down Darsey's spine, making her gasp, but Gull had no chance to respond. He was pushed aside when Wing grabbed the arm of the Data Senior's seat.

"The ch't'kar?" he husked. "You're sure it was hit?"

"Certain-sure, Lord. I read it clear and here's the data store. That ship was gone. There was only debris, with no life signs left."

#

# 44

# Wheels Within

Lady Grace turned away from the sense of bitter loss pervading the nest and wafted toward the link with her second-in-command, Sparrow. She beckoned with a finger to gather her clustered acolytes closer and in that relative privacy, her fronds shared unexpected horror.

Are we where I think? Sparrow pulsed back and Grace replied at once.

Indeed.

A cursed place.

For always. Space has been damaged here, past all repair. That must be how Wing managed to enter this system.

The BGP Senior wafted closer to his leader, bringing his emotions with him, to discretely share them only with her. Returning here, I feel so...

Grace sighed softly at the projected feeling, but her mental response was sharper. Sad? You feel sad? This is the site of two feedings, the culling of two entire civilisations. It's drakking tragic. Her mind softened as she pushed agony aside, stamped it down on top of guilt and instead shared happier memories with Sparrow. They both saw a more welcome vision from her past, undulating fields of flowers, waving between gold and cream forests that were thick with blossom. Do you think it can still be so lovely?

Sparrow smiled sadly, but then his face froze and his fronds abruptly stiffened. Dear one, can this be fate? Is returning here after so many lifetimes a sign? Should we tell our latest children the truth? Tell them all?

Grace's fronds bristled in response, their thin strands scratching past each other. You think we should admit to being immortal? To lying to them, while living in disguise among them? To making body after body?

Sparrow paused to consider his response. Perhaps we should admit to that and more.

Grace grimaced, despite the discomfort when it pulled her face into even deeper folds. Not my favorite plan. Admitting that my actions doomed them all, long before they were born, carries more than a sting.

Such was not your intent, but see where we are. Back at Talisman and all by chance?

Grace looked again at the images filling the nest, but the circling planets faded when memory took her. The memory. The memory from her first life that always followed her into each new body. She felt the pain of being stabbed and then loss and overwhelming fear.

I was selfish, Sparrow and we've all paid for that. I've no wish to confess further. I would if needed, but these youngsters should never have to know that death is coming for them. And what would we say anyway? Tell them we're not kres at all? That we're ancient beings, reborn many times in an effort to stop the evil that hunts them? That we've spent millennia scrabbling to defeat the Devourer?

Sparrow frowned gently back. Not scrabbling, dear sister. We were close last time.

Grace clenched her teeth to hold back a bitter laugh. Close? Tell the seventy-two billion dead how close we were. Grief/ loss/ shame.

They shared the burden silently, until Sparrow lifted a translucent hand. It fluttered like an insect to land on Grace's arm. Let me help further. You should distract the Devourer while I lie on the altar-

No. Never. My mistake made that monster and I must be the one to mend it. I have no option, brother. The sacrifice must be mine.

Sparrow's fingers tightened on Grace's arm, but his grip was no heavier than a gold chain. He made a last attempt to persuade her anyway.

But is confession not a temptation, love? Isn't that why you're so harsh with the children? To keep them distant and so resist it?

The old lady gave a grating laugh at that insight. You know me well. But the confession I want is not for myself. I need to be cold, even cruel, or I would rage at them. Rage, Sparrow. Yell at them to obey me, warn them that time is running out and spread fear and fear and more fear-

Lady Grace broke off when she remembered where they were and her head jerked up to look around, even as Sparrow draped a comforting arm across her shoulders.

However, the distant crew remained oblivious to the elderly couple's exchange. Grace found the energy to lift her face into a wry smile. Being old was drakkingly inconvenient, but at least it made you invisible to the young. And that was what she needed to stay. Invisible. Hidden and waiting so that when evil returned, she could finally defeat it.

45

License to Kill

Far from Freefall's battered vessel, the author of the Grace's misfortune was rapidly losing his temper. Arck Sharpeye could scarcely control his fury. It hummed inside his head, shrill and fierce, like high-tension wire stretched tight across his temples.

He spun on a heel to fix Raptor, the leader of his intelligence service, with a glacial stare.

"Lost? How can you lose two priority targets? What of the spy in place? Do agents of the BRP not have tracking implants?"

The square-jawed kres facing Sharpeye flinched at that sibilant interrogation, but his voice was calm.

"Sire, although the Grace has vanished with no confirmed kill, I do carry good news."

The Arck sniffed and one of his fronds jerked, before its tip lifted, granting permission to continue.

"My thanks, Mightiness. The last contact with our agent revealed your prime target's where-as."

The Arck hissed and glided across the room to stare eagerly into his subordinate's face. "The traitor?"

"Certain-sure, Sire. The most-abhorred has joined his cousin. All three top priority targets are now close grouped, on a single ship."

"I knew such. I told you there was no need to chase after him. I knew they would gather against me and now I can end them. This is perfect in truth. Send the code to move my assassin soon-as. Tell him to kill all aboard if needed, but ensure my nephews die. And, Raptor, be certain-sure too, of that drakking, desiccated, BGP vulture. I want all three dead, as soon as contact returns."

"As you desire," the BRP leader intoned, and bowed low, before backing to the door.

Sharpeye watched him slip through it with immense satisfaction. A delighted chortle escaped his control and he skipped across the room to the far wall, made from a single sheet of crystal. He pressed himself against its cold, clear surface and shivered, imagining the night sky beyond lit by a distant explosion.

I am the hunter. I am strong. I fear no-one. I deserve to be arck. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, until his reassuring mantra was broken by an urgent whistle from his console. He turned, to see an image of his wife, but for once it was easy to find a smile for her.

"Serenity," he greeted her formally, and she bowed her head in response.

"Mightiness, you look glowing. Fatherhood truly agrees with you."

"Indeed," Sharpeye purred, and gestured at her distended belly. "You look most well too. Now, what aid can I offer, sweet?"

"A little more than you most times give. You're usually too busy to notice me."

"And now I'm to full-pay for that."

"Tish, silly." She looked him in the eye for the first time. "I never make you full-pay. All I wish is another tower, most tall, to get more sunshine."

"The whole palace gets total sun."

"Indeed, love, but a new top floor would be closer to the sun."

There was a pause while the Arck's teeth ground together like glaciers shearing rock. "How true," he eventually managed in a strangled tone. "I will build a new level and you may sunbask as you wish."

He turned away without acknowledging his wife's thanks, closing their conversation with a slash of his hand, to instead open a highly secure multi-step connection. The leader of his Hidden Service answered at once.

Sharpeye asked, "Have you made contact yet? What news, Raptor?"

"Only a minute has passed since our meeting, Sire, but your instincts are good. A report has arrived. As feared, all outer attacks have failed."

"So I thought, but have they caught my agent?"

'No, Sire. The spy remains well placed and will strike soon. The order is given and all three will die."

46

New Worlds

Darsey paused outside the door to Wing's quarters and wondered why she was hesitating. Yes, it was likely to be awkward, even excruciating, but they had to forget their kiss and get back to normal sometime. Anyway, her embarrassment was irrelevant compared to Harrier's fate. Darsey was the last person Wing would be thinking about right now. She straightened her shoulders, but before she could move forward, a soft query broke the silence.

"Do you wish entry?" Pertwing asked in the friendliest tone it had ever directed at Darsey.

"Yeah, I really do. Is that a problem?"

"Not in any way. We offer you warm welcome."

The image of the door in front of Darsey wavered and then vanished to show a darkened room beyond. She frowned in surprise and suspicion at the console's greeting, but strode into Wing's cabin anyway. Unfortunately, the atmosphere inside was an even greater shock than Pertwing's courtesy.

The cold would have been crushing without her com's protective field and Darsey could hardly see in the darkened room. Intermittent flashes of lightning blinded her further and she stopped in confusion. She tried to call out, but the air was simply sucked from her lungs. She cursed silently and realized what a futile gesture it was anyway, to try to be heard over the noise.

Wing's room had become a hostile wilderness ruled by the wind. Darsey had to push forward against the storm just to stay upright and her mind automatically screamed for him. His reaction was instant. The wind noise dropped to a breathy whine and its buffeting faded until she could straighten. She gulped a breath of the calmer air and raised her eyes to the end of the room.

Wing's features were still hidden in the dim light, but his silhouette was clear, sitting in a window that ran the width of his living quarters. His form was stark against a glacier rising behind him. It dominated the window, white and chill beneath a night sky. That sky was no longer filled by lightning, but by sheets of color that brightened the room more sanely.

"Aurora," Darsey breathed, before moving forward to join Wing. She stepped carefully across the ice-crusted carpet and belatedly realized that the window ahead wasn't a window at all. Instead, it seemed to be a hole. She could feel the cold growing more intense as she approached, despite her com's protection. When she finally reached the window frame, she had to straddle drifted snow to reach Wing.

"Hey," she said gently, but there was no response and the kres continued to stare bleakly at the ice rising beside him.

"Hey," Darsey repeated, and reached out to rest her hand on Wing's shoulder. His com was clearly turned off, leaving his tunic crisp with rime and the skin beneath as hard as any glacier. "Damn. Nightwing... Wing."

His lips shaped "soon", but there was no other response.

Darsey grimaced, but turned without hesitation to perch gingerly beside him on a tongue of ice that had swallowed the windowsill and took a calming breath before switching off her com. Despite being braced for the chill, it hit her as hard as a blow. She gasped in the frigid air and started to shiver, but relief came almost at once.

The cold eased as quickly as if she had restored her com's protection and the glacier vanished. It was replaced by a stony bay and the faint sound of waves breaking on the rocks was joined by warm air wafting from the window. The spur of ice beneath Darsey collapsed to form a puddle and she jumped up, clutching the back of her soggy skirt.

"Apologies," Wing gulped and she looked at him suspiciously, but his expression was grave. The scene beside them changed again to become an arid wasteland and a new wind blew from it, fierce and hot. "You'll dry full quick."

"Thanks. So... what was with the deep freeze?"

"Ritual of respect. For Harry."

"Oh. I didn't mean to interrupt... I'm really sorry about Harrier."

"I know."

Silence fell between them, but it was comfortable and Darsey moved back to perch beside Wing again. She tried to wring out the edge of her skirt, but it was already too dry for that.

"So, I had a thought and I wanted to run it past you."

"I too wish to share thoughts with you, but perhaps you could start?"

"Why me?"

"Because a mutt at the far end of passage could tell how crazed I am for you. And you're smarter than most mutt."

Darsey gaped at Wing and had to struggle to regain control of her jaw. Her mouth snapped shut and she tried to look calm, despite a blush that was now rising to claim her cheeks. "Smarter than most mutt? Are you trying to win my heart with flattery?"

"We-ell, it was that or bribery, and with my status at broke... Any-all, do you think I can? Win your heart?"

Darsey gulped, but her words tumbled out before she could have a chance to regret them. "Wing, I'm really sorry, but it's impossible. For both of us. I mean, I don't even know what it is – this thing between us – but it doesn't change the fact that we're from different worlds. Literally, and we both need to go back to those worlds. I've got to warn my people about what's out here and get them ready to face it. Grace seems pretty sure you've got responsibilities as well."

"Ye, she's most times sure and most times right. I see she made certain you knew her plans for me."

"I ran into her on my way here. I think she wanted to stop me from coming, but I had an idea I needed to share." Darsey leaned toward him with sudden enthusiasm, confident again now that the conversation was intellectual. "Wing, wouldn't any passage from our arm of the galaxy toward the Great Attractor lead here? I mean, if you knew what to do, couldn't you get here in one jump from anywhere? And with that huge black hole to power a passage back from this end, couldn't you jump back to anywhere?"

Wing stared at her, his face blank, but that seemed to be his usual response to her ideas, so she sat patiently and tried to will the last of the heat from her cheeks. She'd been right to refuse him-

Darsey yelped when Wing grabbed her hand and pulled her upright. "Come."

They were through the door and halfway down the corridor before Darsey could manage to think, where? Wing had her moving at combat speed and the doors flew past on either side.

"Here," he answered almost immediately, and pulled her to a halt before a double-sized opening. "It's the ship's prime strategy room."

"Indeed," someone unexpectedly agreed from further down the passage.

That single word wheezed its way toward the couple, followed more slowly by Lady Grace, supported by Sparrow.

Darsey waited silently for the approaching pair and wondered whether the ancient assistant was actually helping or hindering his superior. They managed to reach the strategy room doors without falling and the old lady abruptly abandoned her uncertain support, dropping Sparrow's arm to launch herself at Wing instead. She gripped him firmly and her fingers dug deep when she smiled up at him delightedly.

"So wonderful to have you back, dear one. It makes my life most full and exciting. I'm certain-sure you were about to summon us to this meeting, hmmm?"

"You're both most welcome, as ever, Lady, but there is no meeting. I'm simply imposing on Free's normal planning session."

"Perfect. I love to impose." Lady Grace fell forward into a walk, leaning heavily on Wing as she did so and thrusting her cane into the floor exactly where Darsey's foot was placed.

She jumped back just in time, but refused to relinquish her grip on Wing's other hand. Instead, she used it to pull herself close to his side. Lady Grace hissed at the intrusion and wobbled sideways, gripping her stick with both hands to stay upright. Wing reached out to steady the old lady and swung Darsey with him to face her too.

"Please pardon my ill manners, ladies," he said gravely. "I believe formal introductions are yet to be made. Darse, this is Lady Grace, Leader of the Bureau for Genome Protection, Tetrarkyn of Wisp and First among the Noble Aged. Lady, in turn please meet my comrade, Science Officer Darsey Ice, a most resourceful ally and First of her people among the kres."

Darsey spared Wing the faintest hint of a glare before fluttering her lashes in exaggerated remorse. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize Wing had a cling-on. I didn't notice you down there. I just assumed you were insignificant, but that was totally superficial of me. I shouldn't have judged on looks, should I?"

"No mind, girl, I understand. Doubtless in your trade looks are needed. And short skirts."

"Lady Grace," Wing hastily interjected, "I've told you that Darsey is a brave and resourceful ally."

The old kres sniffed and stared pointedly at their still-interlaced fingers. "An ally, eh? I've not heard it called such before. Well done, girl. There are still fools in space. Did you think of clearing this alliance with me, Wing? No, of course not, no thought ever-all."

Lady Grace hobbled forward with sudden speed, straight toward the doors, and somehow she was leading them into the room. Darsey released Wing, to join the old lady in two quick strides, and managed to step into the chamber beside her.

"I'm afraid you don't have the expertise to comment on my alliance with Nightwing, Lady Grace. It's based on honor and mutual trust."

The old kres made no effort to crane her neck and look up at Darsey. Instead, she seemed to be struggling to stifle a yawn. "Truly, girl, you can most move your mouth. That could be the source of your appeal and another useful job skill. Hush now, serious mood for us grownups."

Darsey bit back a ready reply when she belatedly realized the room was already full. She looked up from her adversary to see a dozen amazed kres gaping at them.

"No need to stare," Lady Grace instructed happily as she hobbled on. "You're Fleet and you've all seen whores before."

Darsey made a faint strangled noise, all words forgotten, but it was covered by Wing clearing his throat. "Please excuse our intrusion, but I've urgent thoughts to share that bear hard on our future plans."

"Wing," a beaming Free exclaimed and rose to greet them. "Our base work is done and I was about to offer an invite for you to join us. Please, all of you, claim seats."

The rest of the crew present had risen with their leader and now most of them saluted and turned to leave. They all bowed low to Lady Grace, who greeted them by name as they filed from the room. Soon only Gull and the Data Senior remained, standing beyond Free.

The Leader turned and held out his hand to the blonde officer. Long strands of her hair waved as if in a breeze and she made her way through the cluster of chairs to clasp Free's proffered forearm. Her hair settled with a rustle when the pair faced their guests together.

"I gain much Honor and pleasure," Free smiled, "from an introduction I had no time for earlier. Please meet my most loved wife, Lady Clearwing FeatherFlight."

There was a moment of stunned silence, before Wing and Grace spoke at the same time.

"You found someone to wed you? Free, that's wonder-"

"You changed your name? Formed a new clan? Did you have any thought to check with me first?"

A more awkward silence fell, but it was brief. This time, Darsey and Wing spoke together.

"Congratulations, that's great."

"Welcome to our family, Clearwing." Wing stepped forward and lifted Clear's free hand, turning it to kiss the inside of her wrist. "I know Free will go to super lengths to hold a good officer, but this is a record. You must be exceptional indeed."

Clear's hair stirred again, but she ignored it and tossed her head. "I am."

They all laughed, except for Lady Grace, who was busy repeating "FeatherFlight" under her breath. She muttered the new name in tones of growing disgust, before sighing heavily and moving to claim the nearest chair. She crooked a claw impatiently and her fronds snapped for the group to be seated. Delighted murmurs of congratulations continued, but everyone moved to obey.

Darsey was the only one who missed the silent order, but quickly followed suit. She settled next to Wing to become part of a rough circle and a hologram appeared in the middle of the group. It hung there ominously, showing every detail of their battered craft.

Wing twirled a finger and the ship's schematic spun in response, while on his left Free watched with grim intensity. Clear had chosen a seat beside her husband and now radiated worry.

Darsey sat straighter and did her best to look unconcerned. Across the circle from them, Lady Grace seemed to be asleep and Sparrow was nodding, but Darsey was unconvinced by their sudden torpor. The ship was damaged, its exotic matter gone and along with it their ability to passage, while everyone in the Universe seemed to be hunting them. It was scarcely a good time for a nap.

Wing snapped his fingers, erasing the visuals of their crippled ship and instantly had everyone's attention, although Grace's eyes remained half lidded.

"We're a floating quack," he summarised bluntly.

"Duck," Darsey murmured, and Wing's fronds swivelled to check the room.

"We should duck?"

"No, never mind. We can't passage, so what are our options?"

"We may not have the ability to passage yet," Wing reassured her, "but we'll harvest more exM and then we're perfect placed to fly where we choose."

"Fly where?" Gull demanded. "We're far from home with no map of any passages back. So, where to, Once-Lord?"

"Senior," Free admonished, but Wing looked unmoved.

"We go anywhere we like and we do it in a single step. The theory is Darsey's, but I can certain-sure make it work. We've found the fabled perfect passage."

Wing's fellow kres stirred and Gull snorted in disbelief. "Nonsense. That's a myth."

"Indeed," Wing agreed, "but we can make it real. We know how to reach this system now and we can use the Great Attractor to sling us back to any passage point we want. We can reach anywhere in a single passage and return just as quick. I know our first trip here was rough, but I swear I can make it icy smooth. We've stumbled on a chance to out-travel and out-trade everyone else."

"Wing," Free half whispered. "Truly?"

"So I swear. We've found it. The greatest goal of all explorers."

"Amazing."

"A huge wonder."

"A blessing plus."

"Damn dangerous."

The awed responses of the kres stopped and they all looked at Darsey.

"Don't you think?" she continued. "I mean, we've got something that everyone wants. We're sitting on the greatest treasure in the universe and all we've got is a single, crippled ship. That sounds tricky to me."

"Ye, ye," a harsh voice agreed, and Lady Grace leaned forward, hands clenched on the head of her cane and chin bobbing against them. Her jowls wobbled above the golden jewel nearly hidden in the folds of her neck, but her voice was steady.

"Resourceful-Ally-and-Massage-Girl is right. There is huge power here. Enough to terrify every species. All will want reassurance and many will want the ultimate reassurance. Control. Ownership." She turned to fix Darsey with a glare. "It seems you've through-thought this, girl. How do we dissuade them?"

"I'm glad you asked," Darsey answered mildly, but was stopped by a snort from Wing.

She paused to look at him and he burst out laughing. "If you ever lack ideas, tell me and then I'll truly panic. What do we do now?"

"We lie low and start to trade in disguise. We hide how fast we can move and make sure we're just a little bit quicker than the competition. We pretend to be Rim merchants who deliver fast, but not too fast. That gives us a chance to build up before anyone figures out who and where we are."

"How do we manage all this flying around?" Gull growled, but Darsey was undeterred.

"We'll need help and we'll have to choose our allies carefully. Human and kres. Our own people, approached by us and then quietly relocated-"

'"We're still stuck," Gull interrupted, "with a ship that's far from ready to play taxi."

"I know," Darsey said and paused for effect, "but I happen to owe a future favor to someone who can help."

47

Planet Fall

Darsey leaned back in the comfortable grip of an energy reinforced seat and let the sounds of their shuttle landing wash over her. She should probably be scared by her first visit to a virgin world, but after the recent horrors in her life this adventure seemed remarkably safe. Famous last words, she thought, but was only faintly jostled by a gentle landing. It seemed they were safely down on the pretty, cream planet that circled the only star in their new system.

The images surrounding Wing in the middle of the small craft vanished and he stretched before smiling at the people packed around him.

"Welcome to Blossom."

His passengers responded with thanks and then an excited murmur as they prepared to exit. The old fashioned shuttle's very solid hatch shuddered and clanked while its locks released. It slowly rolled aside and the soft light of a new planet crept into the ship. It was followed, more subtly, by a fresh fragrance. There was a short, reverent silence that was broken by Free.

"Attention, kres, we need someone to guard the shuttle."

Darsey stopped shuffling with the queue working toward the hatch and looked back in alarm, but the Leader got his volunteer straight away.

"I'll stay," Wing offered, and Free laughed.

"A new world and you want to stay back? Truly?"

"I need to think, so I don't mind pulling a guard stint."

"I'll stay if you wish, sah," a quieter voice offered and Darsey looked up at a beanpole boy hanging back beside her. "It's no trouble. Truly. I don't mind." He ducked his head to Free, who raised a single eyebrow.

"Two volunteers for sentry duty. That must be a record. Thanks, Sub BackBeak, but Lord Nightwing offered first. Plus, he needs all the thinking time he can get. Let's go."

Excited cries from the crew already outside seemed to galvanise the youngster, who was abruptly gone with a thumping of boots. Free lifted a few fingers to farewell Wing and then he was gone too.

Darsey followed more slowly, drawn by the sweet breeze, but strangely reluctant to leave the familiar comfort of the shuttle. She shook her head and impatiently pushed back waves of her hair, which was loose for once. She was being weird again. This was her first trip in the shuttle, which certain-sure wasn't a second home. She should be charging through that door and into a new world.

"Don't stay back for me," Wing said and Darsey jumped.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm just savouring my first pristine planet. See you." However, she still hesitated on the threshold, watching him appraisingly. "Do you regret volunteering?"

"Absolutely. Once I would have clambered over everyone to be first through that door and used my rank to avoid any guarding without a care. But now I find myself thinking about who gets left back and wondering why it shouldn't be me. Most strange."

"It's called growing up."

"I don't like it."

They shared a smile, before Darsey peeled herself away from the door frame and finally stepped through the hatch. Her eyes widened at the view and she felt her lips part, but didn't care. From ground level, the forests of Blossom were the most stunning she'd ever seen. Massive trees rose above her, tall and thick, which should have been intimidating, but their flower-laden boughs made them incredibly lovely instead.

A faint breeze lifted her hair and she breathed in sharply. After the metallic tang of the shuttle, the perfume from the gold and cream blossoms made her heart ache.

Free was just leaving the clearing and his pace had slowed to a stroll, while he wandered under those branches with his head tipped back, staring straight up.

"Wow," Darsey whispered and Wing joined her on the thick petals that carpeted the forest floor. She closed her eyes, listening to the soft hum of tiny wings and inhaled deeply. "Isn't that the most beautiful smell ever?"

She glanced at him for confirmation, but he closed his eyes too and his nostrils flared when he breathed in deeply. "No, it's certain-sure not."

"You know a better smell than that?"

"I think." Wing turned toward Darsey and, with a distracted smile, gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. His fingers curled around the back of her neck and he dipped his head to drink in the scent of her skin. His mouth brushed her throat and then settled there while he tasted her too.

Darsey would have pulled away, but that was physically impossible. Something inside her seemed to be melting. Her legs were particularly treacherous and she struggled to stay on her feet.

"Wing," she finally managed to protest, and he snapped upright.

"I'm sorr-"

"Catch me."

If Wing was surprised by Darsey's request, it didn't slow his reactions. His arms closed around her, taking her weight when she sagged against him and they fell together into a totally unexpected embrace.

Darsey resolved to pull back as soon as she could, but she did just the opposite. She pressed herself into the hug instead and her hands closed to grip fistfuls of Wing's tunic. The silence continued, building from tense to intense, and he was the first to break it.

"This is confusing."

"I noticed."

"You haven't changed your thought about a relationship...?"

"No. No... have you?"

"Not as such." Wing sighed against Darsey's temple. "I mean, it's impossible..." His protest petered out and he abruptly pulled away from her. He stepped back to study her at arm's length, his hands still supporting her elbows. "I've a different thought. How do you feel about sex?"

"You mean in gener- Oh, my God, you mean us?"

He shrugged a shoulder and offered a deceptively shy smile. "I promise no commitment and no romance at all. Just sex, without complications."

"You are such a male."

"Is that a no?" he whispered, and stepped in close again, so that his lips brushed her cheek. "It would be fun. We both know that."

Darsey sighed and tilted her head just a little, until the corner of her mouth rested lightly against his. "We'll go our separate ways when we have to? No strings?"

"No ties, unless you like such. Seriously though, when we needs must part, we will. I promise this is only physical."

"Who could refuse such a romantic offer?"

Darsey scarcely had to move to seal their bargain. She simply leaned into Wing and that was enough to bring their lips into full contact, but the touch was surprisingly gentle. He left the kiss to her and she pressed her mouth to his very softly, tasting a last morsel of anticipation.

Then she moved, pushing harder and parting her lips.

He responded hungrily and what ever was between them was finally realized, for better or worse, and they were literally lost in each other. Their cells slid together and their mouths merged, turning the kiss into its own embrace.

Darsey snuggled into Wing's arms and then her body passaged too, straight through their clothes. Her bare skin met his when her breasts pressed against his chest and the unexpected contact made them both start. Their lips managed to part, but they kept their faces close while they gasped for air.

"We should be careful," Darsey panted, but Wing growled in response and cupped the back of her head with both hands, before bending to kiss her again.

This time the passage of her body past cloth and into his skin was instant. Their cells merged with an intimacy that overwhelmed everything else. They staggered back through the hatch, managing to scrape their way past it without noticing. They rebounded from that impact to slam into a wall and their collisions continued until a seat edge collected the back of Wing's calves, tripping them both. They separated as they fell, slipping apart a little, just enough to share laughter, and then they were on the floor, together again.

"Someone might come," Darsey managed to protest, but Wing growled again and she realized that she didn't care either.

He lifted her anyway, still wrapped around him and through him, and somehow they reached the cargo bay door. It opened, tilting in, to send them spinning into the dim hold. They tumbled across the floor together, but there was no laughter this time. Their shared world had become far too intense for fun.

Their collision now was just that and much more raw than their first kiss. Their cells joined with the same abandon as before, but this time the intrusion was so ungoverned that it threatened their separate existence. Both distantly recognised the danger, but now neither cared, at least not enough to stop. They lost themselves more completely than they would have thought possible and all sense of self blurred, along with their surroundings.

Vision became little more than a haze, a vague succession of cloth and bare skin, while only enough hearing remained to register each other's ragged cries. There was no more thought of practicalities. No more thought at all. Their union worked, but not because of care and consideration. It worked because their bodies were driven to be joined in every way and no physical differences could stop that. They threw themselves into each other, careless of any cost while the rest of the universe fell away.



Later that day, as twilight leached the gold from Blossom's sky, Darsey watched Wing dress in the dim light of the cargo bay. His skin rippled when he moved, each muscle a contrast of shadow and some strange afterglow that still surrounded him. He almost seemed to have an aura of his own, but after the wonder of their afternoon that scarcely surprised her. He looked up from sealing his tunic, his near frond stirring toward her, and started to grin.

"What?" Darsey demanded, and then belatedly realized that she already had a smile of her own, impossibly huge and out of control, an expression of uninhibited delight. She blushed and ducked her head in an effort to retain some dignity, but Wing was chuckling when he stepped through to the main cabin. She bit her lower lip, unable to resist looking up after him. However, he was turning away from her and raising a hand in greeting.

"Free," Wing called clearly, and Darsey was instantly moving, scrabbling for her clothes in the dim light.

She pulled them on as she found them, cursing tight jeans, but still managed to dress before Free reached the shuttle. She heard him step into the cabin, but his greeting died in his throat. She looked up to see him staring at his cousin in shock. "Wing, Gods, what happened?" He strode to her lover's side and gripped his shoulder, as if to support him.

Darsey sensed Wing's bemusement as clearly as her own, but she started to feel something more, as well. Pain. Pain growing behind her right ear. Her hand rose to check automatically, but the skin there was smooth and unharmed.

"What's wrong?" Nightwing wondered, echoing Darsey's unspoken question.

"You're bleeding," Free informed him grimly, and turned his cousin as he searched for the source of the blood. Darsey saw it then, starkly red against golden skin where it trickled down Wing's neck and any worry for herself was forgotten.

"Wing," she breathed, stepping into the cabin, and he looked back at her with a slight smile.

"It's kay," he reassured her, and she recognised his conviction, along with his concern for her. Strangely, she could also feel Free's angry fear for his cousin, and with that perception she finally realized what she had done.

She staggered and grabbed the back of a seat, needing support for the second time that day.

"Your fronds," she choked, and Free hissed in agreement.

"The right is totally gone," he stated, and Darsey felt the accusation behind those blunt words.

She could hardly think, much less reply to his suspicion. She knew it was true.

"Your frond is lost, Wing," Free continued grimly. "I'm sorry, but there's no remnant for regen. It's just... gone. All beyond the skin and then from the insertion point back to the root. It's been taken. You'll be all time blind on that side."

There was a moment of silence, just enough for Darsey to start to find some words, before Free cut harshly across her attempt to apologise. "I also note that our guest has someway found a frond of her own." He turned to look directly at her and she quailed at the icy touch of his mind. "An odd coincidence mayhap?"

"Free," Wing protested, shaking himself as if to throw off his own shock in order to protect Darsey. She sensed his anger at any blame being attached to her and it made her cringe with guilt. She had done this to him and she deserved to be blamed. Horror rose in her, pushing its way past shock and carrying her voice with it.

"I crippled you. I stole your frond," she choked, still struggling to absorb what had happened. "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault-"

Her mind was almost screaming, much louder than her words, but she didn't understand why Free staggered back and Wing's remaining frond furled tight, to tuck hard against his throat. It was only when he hurdled the row of seats between them and gripped her by the arms that she became aware of his distress.

"Darse, calm," he ordered, releasing her, but mentally underlining his demand until the thoughts roaring through all their minds grew quieter.

However, despite being muted, they were still there, running frantically fast from Darsey's head to her frond.

"Calm," Wing instructed more soothingly and then frowned at the words he could still sense. "None such," he denied vehemently. "I don't hate you. Not ever and you're not the... the alien in some monster movie. And you don't eat your mates." He paused and raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you?"

"No," Darsey groaned, "not normally, but nothing about this is normal. Nothing about me is normal. Not any more."

Wing crouched beside her and she realized that somehow she was kneeling on the floor. "Hey," he said with a wry smile, and a frond touch so warm it made her sigh. "It was worth it. That's my truth."

Darsey stared miserably back and he winked before sending her a memory from their afternoon together.

"Oh." She gulped, but refused to be diverted. "Okay, it was great, right up 'til someone lost a frond."

"That someone was me and I repeat, it was worth it. Any-all, it's now past and done. Look at what you have."

Darsey looked down, despite herself, and the purloined organ swayed higher, to hover at eyelevel. She studied its sinuous length with fresh shock. "It's changed."

"So it appears. It's not just been taken by your body, but integrated too. It's now blue, because fronds are colored by the same gene that makes eye pigment. It's also grown more long and slender, because it's a female frond. It's truly yours now."

"No," Darsey denied, "it's not. Don't say that, not ever. We're going to see Grace and she is going to fix this."

"She had best," Free growled, and an unexpected blast of pain and fury made Darsey cry out.

Wing threw himself back across the chairs in instant response. He charged straight into his cousin and carried him backwards, to collect the far wall. They rebounded from that collision and Wing shoved Free hard against the metal again. His remaining frond radiated ice and its cold resonance was strong enough to cover the pain sent by his cousin.

"Enough!"

"Enough?" Free repeated, spitting the word into Wing's face and making Darsey's heart hammer. "As usual, you cry enough whenever you wish, but what of me, Wing? I live my life with utmost care, but always you saunter past again and shred it. I strive to cover both our duties and all times try to keep you safe, but still you refuse to hear me. I find happiness, but then you drag true bliss right under my fronds and ruin all peace of mind. You remain reckless-as and I have to share the cost of that."

Wing's grip on his cousin's tunic loosened and he stepped away. "Free..."

"Do you know what Sharpeye did to me for helping you escape?"

Darsey saw the image of Free's scarred cheeks in Wing's mind and felt sick.

Free crossed his arms as if trying to hold himself together. "They dragged me out of Court to the dungeons."

Her gorge rose and she shared Wing's horror. "Free, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I can't believe they locked you up 'til you cut yourself."

"They didn't. Do you think I'd hesitate to do what was right? They held me in the dungeon to keep my knife away from me. They wanted to be certain-sure I didn't cut my cheeks until the Arck was free to watch. He made me wait a week. They left my knife plunged in a stalagmite outside the cell, just beyond reach. They froze it deeper every day by dripping hex oil on it."

Darsey was almost too shocked to follow Free's story, but one detail stood out. What was hex oil?

He turned to give her a sardonic look. "It's a poison that freezes cellular function. It causes pain and disrupts regeneration. It leaves scars."

"Oh," she choked and his hurt transmuted to molten fury.

"Oh indeed. You're far too perfect to be real, thieving alien. Make whatever choices you please, Wing, as you ever have, but I ask you to return to my ship first and send my shuttle back with my pilot."

"Free, you can attack me in every way you wish, because we both know I deserve it, but Darsey doesn't."

However, Wing's response seemed to anger Free further. He pushed past his cousin and stalked from the shuttle, straightening his uniform as he went. Wing called after him, but Free ignored that plea and strode into the trees, each step thudding with ominous force, despite the carpet of fallen blossoms.

Darsey flinched with each angry stride, until they finally faded. Her frond could see Wing in the doorway, staring after his cousin, but she stayed crouched on the floor trying to understand. She was an organ thief. She was a slut with an alien fetish. She couldn't control her own carnivorous body. She'd just come between two best friends.

"No," Wing murmured and his arms closed round her. That was no fault of yours. Free has hid those resentments far too long. Even from himself. I'm the one to blame. Certainty/ comfort/ love.

Darsey stiffened and Wing released her at once. He quickly stood and she scrabbled upright, ignoring the hand he offered. At least, she kept her eyes averted, but her frond could see it perfectly well, as a haze of gold and red. She staggered, suddenly lost in too much input, but he slipped an arm around her waist to steady her.

"Your brain can't analyse so much sensory data. Let's get you to Grace. Right now."

Darsey gritted her teeth against vertigo and let Wing lead her to a seat. She collapsed into it and clutched at the arms, while her mind clutched at a single hope. The old lady would fix this. After all, she had to be good for something.

48

No Going Back

Lady Grace leaned forward in her chair to study the approaching couple. They were gripping hands when they entered her quarters and Wing looked resolved. Grace sighed softly. Some things never changed. The old lady shifted her attention to Darsey and a hiss escaped when she saw a long, blue strand draped over the alien's shoulder.

"Tsss," she snapped. "You've a new necklace, girl. What type of alliance led to this?"

Darsey's thoughts slipped back to the afternoon and Grace's thin hair stirred in response. Was that embarrassment? Well! That hadn't happened in centuries.

"Lord, girl, you're louder than a chick and a good deal less innocent. You need to see Sparrow and I mean most quick."

Darsey's brow furrowed and she pressed a hand to her temple. The frond sitting against her throat jerked convulsively. "Sparrow?" she asked far too loudly.

Grace hitched further forward to study the twitching girl. Pain shot through the old lady's hip, but she saw what she needed. She folded back with a sniff. "Sensory overload. Has she shown Beserk tendencies?"

"Of course not. Not in the least." Wing bristled even more than Grace had expected, which was truly concerning.

"Good. She may be able to adapt. Let's hope she survives your carelessness."

"W-wait," Darsey protested. "So not Wing's fault."

"I was blaming you both. I assume the alliance was consensual?" The couple had the sense to look abashed, so Grace let her sympathy show. "No need to fear, girl. We can likely save most of your brain. Sparrow's an expert at frond integration and very skilled with children. He has patience and diplomacy and such."

Darsey had her head in both hands, but the emotions she sent made Grace purse her lips to hide a smile. "Now, now, dear. Language. Sparrow will join us soon and he's much more polite than me."

Amazingly, the alien managed to straighten and push Wing away. She glared at Grace from a strangely pale face and her dark blue eyes looked like holes in sea ice. Grace shifted in her seat to hide a shiver.

"No Sparrow," Darsey stated. "Just return Wing's frond. Please."

She gagged and swayed, but pushed Wing away once more. Grace had to hide another smile. She could almost like this girl. It was unfortunate that Wing's genes were needed elsewhere.

Her protégé looked far from happy. Grace hadn't seen him scowl like that since he was a child. He folded his arms and turned to glare at her as well. My. She hoped her old body was up to such excitement. "Yes, Wing?"

"Should I fetch Senior Sparrow? Darsey, you need to be stabilized first. That's our priority."

"Agreement from Nightwing," the old Lady purred. "The age of miracles is still with us." An entry chime sounded and she smiled before she could stop herself. "Ah, Sparrow, please enter." Her old friend limped past the heavy door and his face creased in an answering smile.

"We've an utmost challenge for you," Grace informed him. "Would you escort our young guest to a healing bay and re-task her sensory nerves. Then if you're feeling truly brave, please teach her enough mental control to match the average toddler."

"Wait," Darsey ordered. "We need to fix this. Right now. Please. You need to fix it."

Her reeling mind sent an appeal that swamped Grace. She clutched her chest and Sparrow staggered too, making Wing throw out an arm to catch him. Lady Grace slumped so far she feared she was disappearing into her robes, like a twig into a pile of autumn leaves.

"Hold, Darse," Wing called, sending the same message with his fronds, but it was drowned by a mental command Grace.

CEASE.

It was Darsey's turn to quail, although she managed to stay upright. Grace sprawled in her chair, panting, while the target of her order straightened to stand tall. It seemed the human had remarkable strength. Or she was simply drakking stubborn.

There was a moment of intense silence, both physical and mental, while they all gathered themselves. Grace eventually recovered enough to trust her voice.

"Do you understand, girl? Fronds are not toys and any return of Wing's will take some thought. While I consider such, would you please withdraw and accept help from Guild Senior Sparrow?"

The kres in question approached Darsey and bowed carefully, before offering the girl his hand. "I would be honored to escort you, Lady."

"Of course," Darsey whispered, but her thoughts were deafening when she accepted his shaking arm. Who's escorting whom?

Grace sighed loudly, but dear Sparrow simply smiled. "Shall we both offer support and try to keep each other from harm?"

"I'm so sorry."

"No mind, no mind. Which, of course, is one of the best secrets of holding thoughts private. You need to sever the sense of mind touching frond. How clearly can you feel the messages from your frond?"

The two moved slowly away, already deep in discussion, but Darsey looked back when they reached the door and her imploring thought, though sent very carefully, still carried clearly to them all. Fix this, please.

Grace sniffed in response and pushed herself up in her chair to study a scan of Darsey's new frond. Wing waited patiently after the others had left, which was fortunate, because her analysis was not encouraging.

"This is most strange and well beyond me. The strand has changed its genetic code and now carries female DNA. Tuly odd. If we tried to reattach it, your body would reject it. There's no simple fix, as you've most likely guessed."

"I feared such," he answered, making Grace snort.

"Is fear a true word here? Others may be scared for you, but you show no such caution for yourself. The depth of your exchange with this alien..." She paused and gravely flicked a finger at Wing's missing frond. "It is of concern. Not just mine, but grave concern to all, including one who loves you best."

Wing's jaw set. "Free spoke to you? Of course he did, but he shouldn't have. Concern is no excuse for betrayal."

"True, but between you two Free was never the betrayer, was he?"

"No. Free remains the best of us, which in no way stops your manipulation of him, does it? Please, don't send me innocence. I've talked with Freefall and I know you pushed him into marriage."

Grace relaxed and let herself laugh. "Of course. If I'd left the match to them it would have taken all time, and I don't have all time to waste."

She stretched her thin fronds with consummate skill, lifting the few bristles that remained to send innocent concern. "Which brings me back, straight away and all unsubtle, to what truly matters. Have you not felt, dear one, your potential for addiction? I fear it with this alien."

Wing's hair stirred against his neck, while his anger was swamped by shame. "There's no such fear here, Lady, and never will be. When Darsey and I need to part, we will. It's agreed."

"Oh, it's agreed. Silly old bird, me. It's agreed. All's well then. It's agreed." The old lady sniffed again and shifted her tone from delighted to scathing. "You're not such a fool, Wing. Every extra day means pain plus, for her too. End this now, while you can."

"Have you finished?"

"I fear not. Pursue the human if you must, but only if you truly have no regard for her. She is the one most at risk here. She will suffer more if things go sour. She has no hope of navigating court politics, or enmities. Do you wish to see her the target of Princess Goldown's jealousy? You know the truth of this, so forget your own wants and go do what you should."

There was a moment of tense silence and then Wing bowed his head. "I'd never wish to cause Darsey pain and I see the dangers she could face with me." He straightened to stand rigidly at attention and stared over Grace's head. "I see too that Free shouldn't have to carry all our family cares. I'm ready to be responsible. I ask... I most humbly ask for guidance."

Grace let her head nod, tucking her chin into her neck folds as if thinking, while really fighting to control her joy. Her boy was back and there might some day be hope again. "My advice I will happily give, Lord. Break with Darsey now and send an apology to your cousin. Then we shall have more to say together."

Wing bowed again and turned on his heel to stride from the room.

Despite her best efforts the old lady crumpled further after he left. "Fool," she chided herself. "He's strong and will survive well enough. Happiness is not needed too." She sighed at her heartless reassurance, unconvinced, but then started and clutched her necklace when the chamber door was thrown open.

"Sorry, full sorry," Sparrow called as he was swung into the room, still clutching the heavy door. "Why must these old ships have solid doors? This thing is impossible." He came to rest facing the wall, dragged there by the handle he had clung to. He pushed himself away from it and turned to face Grace, who was now surrounded by holograms and checking Darsey's progress. She looked up with a frown when her senior approached.

"The human is healed already?"

"Indeed. And there's more-"

"How can she have formed the neural paths to carry frond signals so quickly?"

Sparrow gave one of his gentle smiles and she bit back more questions. "I did help, but the lady has a natural aptitude. And more. Wing's attraction is most understandable-"

"His attachment scares me, Sparrow. She's no part of our plan."

"With respect, most dear, are you sure?"

Grace peered through the projected reports to frown at her old friend and sucked her wrinkled lips over sunken gums. "What have you found while you played healer?"

Sparrow gestured with his com and the data floating in front of her enlarged, to focus on a single set of scans. Grace studied them with care, expressionless and unmoving while she absorbed the unexpected information.

"Well," she finally remarked, in a voice devoid of emotion, "that's annoying. I just told him to break with her."

Sparrow breathed in sharply and Grace gave him a caustic look. "Ye, I know, my friend. A mistake. Feel free to say such. We both know I make them."

"No," the younger kres denied automatically, but then smiled ruefully. "Well, yes, but seldom so. I know of only four in all our shared ages."

"Four, eh?" Grace sighed with sudden regret and their fronds shared reminiscence, until she shuddered, breaking the rapport. "Four indeed, but this last is better. Wing is still useful. He can gain us access to the girl, so long as she trusts him. A relationship is necessary, but he truly wants that and a quick fix of any rift between the couple should be simple."

"For you, of course. But can we get what else we wish? Even if Wing helps, the human will never offer her body to us."

"To me, you mean, and you're right, Sparrow. However, that is where the challenge lives."

Grace flicked her fingers to remove the scan in front of her and used a com thrust to rise from her chair. She took a moment to steady herself and then began the slow trek to her door.

Sparrow hastened to help her, but she waved him aside. "I'm well enough, dear one, and the link is an easy trip. Please, add these scans to my private reports. The girl is well?"

"Beyond well, my dear. I put her in trance for some lessons and she absorbed them all. Everything I had to offer, in minutes."

Lady Grace wavered to a halt, before slowly looking back at Sparrow.

"She took all you know of frond use in minutes? That is... impressive. She can't have integrated it yet, but still..." Grace felt the wrinkles around her mouth moving oddly, curving upwards... into... yes, an uncontrolled smile. A strange sensation followed the expression. It might almost have been hope.

She quickly rearanged her face, before resuming her slow journey to the link. She made her careful way to that weightless corridor and finally stepped into it with relief. She pulsed her com to waft along it and was about to accelerate when she recognised the touch of Wing's mind.

Grace was surprised to find him still so close, but he had clearly secluded himself in the nearest private alcove. He had found a seat in one of the niches that were tucked at regular intervals around the curve of the link. He had his back to her while he watched an image of the forest on Blossom.

"Parting is truly hard," Grace barked, but carefully sent sympathy along with her blunt words.

Wing turned in response to the dry comment and inclined his head to the old lady hovering at the entrance of his sanctuary. The alcove field dimmed to admit Grace and she moved stiffly to join him, tapping her way into the alcove with the help of her cane.

Wing shifted a dilmah-draped seat closer to the entrance and she sank gratefully into it. She sighed and then threw the cane aside in sudden disgust. It narrowly missed him and clattered across the polished floor to disappear beneath a settee. She pulled a face when the younger kres bent easily to retrieve the darkwood limb.

"No need to feel smug," she snapped, reaching for the hated support with surprising speed. She clenched one withered hand around the gleaming wood and smoothed her russet gown with the other. "The Ageing comes to all, youngster, and in half a thousand years, you'll feel it too."

"Certain-sure," he agreed, and crouched before her chair so that she no longer had to raise her head to watch him. Such a thoughtful boy. Grace offered a small smile and he grinned back. "Of course, at the moment, five hundred years feels like forever."

"Enjoy that feeling. You'll be amazed how fast the centuries fly. The Ageing has its uses, though. Once, I wanted to live forever; now, more-on-more dying seems an easier option. I won't be bothering you much longer."

"But in the meantime..." Wing prompted, ignoring her obvious play for sympathy, and she cackled in delight.

"I like you, Wing. Truly, and there aren't many members of the Royal family I can say such about." She paused and the wrinkles around her eyes deepened while she stared at him reflectively. "Except your mother, of course. Ah, she was a lovely one. I think she even liked me."

"A noble soul indeed," Wing answered dryly.

Grace rewarded him with another cackle, but he was as difficult to charm as he had ever been. Her lips puckered and she looked down at the cane lying across her lap. It resembled a prison bar pinning her legs and she plucked at her skirt, to drape a fold over the offensive item. She finally looked up with a sigh and sent genuine regret.

"I've never dealt well with you, have I? Truly, it grieves me. Now more than ever." Grace raised her eyes and hitched forward in the chair, to tap his knee with a seamed finger. "You must break with this human. I press you only because I care for you, Wing, and that's the truth."

Nightwing rose abruptly and she fell back with a snap of seamed lips. She peered up at him and broadcast sympathy, but he held his mind silent and unresponsive. She let her faded yellow lips quiver and rocked a hand from side to side in the kres equivalent of a shrug.

"No matter, Wing, though it saddens me not to have your trust. In many ways, I feel like a true mother to you-"

Wing swung to loom over Grace and his hiss echoed from the smooth walls of the alcove.

"You go too far. Don't ever claim such again. I'm gene fodder to you and we both know it. Yes, you like me, and yes, I'm better gene fodder than most, but, with you, DNA is first. Never pretend otherwise, Lady. So tell me, what do you really seek?"

"Just conversation-"

"No. Stop the lies between us, Glam. You don't ever waste what remains of your precious time in 'just conversation'. Not once. If you want something from me, ask, because as-is you're wasting time for both of us."

Wing stepped away, so that he no longer towered over her, but she still blinked up at him, craning to see his expression. "Now, I'm going to see Darsey. You've ordered me to break with her. Do you have any-all to add?"

"Ye, my neck hurts."

Grace abruptly sat back at her ease and pointed at the floor before her, ordering Wing to crouch again. He grinned ruefully and obediently sank to squat before her once more, balanced on the balls of his feet. She held his gaze steadily and her mind sent admiration, but his lip curled in a cynical smile. Her hand shrugged again and for a brief moment she felt ashamed.

"My apologies, Wing. I should not treat you as a child, or as I treat the rest of the court. You were always quick and you've returned to us with real maturity. A potent combination. That's why I need you. Why the kres need you. This is your chance to truly redeem your Honor."

Wing rocked back onto his heels and his hair stirred. His distress at the mention of his lost honor reassured Grace, but she hid her reaction with consummate skill. He shook his head and his hair settled around its family crest again. "I don't understand. What-?"

"Your mate must be Goldown-"

Wing raised a hand to stop the old lady. "The princess would never accept me. I wounded her too deep."

"Most deep indeed," the leader of the BGP agreed. "But I could still convince her. It wouldn't be difficult since she still loves you true." Grace paused to lick her lips and leaned conspiratorially close to whisper in his face. "She can give you heirs. Legitimate heirs to a real throne. Heirs that I can approve."

"An Arck you can simply approve, Lady? Or one you can also order in all things?"

Grace ignored his question, pretending to be intent on her own argument. "Sharpeye is a threat. He has turned on me and now the fool seeks all our deaths. This is war, Wing, and I needs must prevail. The empire can burn to ash if needed. It would be a small enough cost to have victory. Your mating is another cost and minuscule in compare."

Grace halted her flow of words and tried to judge their effect on Wing. He crouched before her, silent and noncommittal. His mind was even more securely screened than when he had been a child. She leaned forward again and plucked at the sleeve of his tunic.

"We can prevail. You and Goldown needs must give me my dynasty. A dynasty that can gain full support against the Arck's line. Your babes will be the warlords our people crave. You have to do this for them and for me. I know I've tried to order you in the past and you quite rightly ignored me, but this, now, is the time. I know it, boy. I knew it when first I scanned you in your mother's womb." She dropped her voice even lower and Wing leaned forward to catch her words.

"It was true-vision. The only one I've ever been granted and the only one I've ever wanted. I saw the future, Wing, and it was you. You will sire a line greater than any other kres. A dynasty that will span the stars. I feel it in every fibre of this aged and useless frame. It's the truth. This is the time and you can't deny me. Not, Lord, for all our sakes."

Her right hand clutched at his left shoulder and settled around it like a claw. She held Wing as if in a vice, not by her feeble grip, but by the power of her vision. She spread her fronds wide, to send the sound a foetal heartbeat and fade the gilded metal walls around them to a pink mist, so that only her words penetrated the fog.

"You are my triumph, Wing. The son my own body would never give me. That is why I had to guide you, cajole you and order your life. Your children will lead us all. You needs must do this for your family and your people and so does she. Your union will give us the support needed for victory. This war truly starts with your marriage."

Wing stirred abruptly and his eyes rolled up in their sockets. He shuddered, blinked and then seemed to focus on Grace again. She smiled at his absorption and a blast of elation surged from her fronds to his. That sense of triumph broke through his shock and his hand flew forward to curl into Grace's shoulder until she was the one held motionless. She whimpered softly when his fingers tightened and he instantly eased his grip, but his expression was unyielding.

"You sicken me. Do you listen to your own words? I can't wed with Goldown if it could lead to war. I won't betray all kres and I won't betray Darsey. It would be a sham. She alone is my true mate. She may not be a trophy womb that can be used by you, but I intend to marry her, and if she says yes, our path will be our own. You and I have no more to say." He released the old lady and she slumped in her chair while he rose to stand over her. "I find your actions Honorless."

Grace's head swung up and a withered hand clutched at her chest. "What?" she whispered, genuinely shocked by the power of his pronouncement. How could a single frond underpin an order with so much force?

"Spare me your theatrics, Lady. I plan to fix the worst wrong of my life. It is my intent to marry Darsey."

The old kres hissed furiously and slammed her cane against the deck. "Not, Wing, not. What of Goldown? You can't draw back again. Your people. Your responsibility. You can't desert them for a primitive female."

He paused and looked back over his shoulder. His eyes gleamed from the shadow of his hair and Grace wondered if he was wavering. He was bred for genetic ambition and the power of siring a kres dynasty must tempt him. She assumed a smug smile and broadcast triumph while Wing hesitated.

He laughed harshly in response and shook a single finger. "No, Lady. Your dreams are more withered than your flesh. You chase a future without Honor." His contempt made Grace flinch, but then his frond smoothed and he was gone.

She sat motionless and silent, watching him after he stepped from the alcove. He raised a hand and pulsed himself down the link at reckless speed, but she made a supreme effort so that her mind pursued him.

No! You're the one without Honor! Do you hear me, boy? Wear those scars forever! May they sear your soul!

His shoulders tensed, but he made no other response. The alcove field hung dim and featureless between them as he shrank in the distance, surging away from her accusation.

The old woman hissed after her rebellious charge, but let the sharp sound catch in her throat. It emerged as a sob, which echoed from the scrolled metal walls when she fell to her knees. She tumbled forward to lie on the chilly floor, ignoring the pain involved. She arranged herself to appear a tiny figure, lost within a pool of russet dilmah. A fallen leaf, discarded and bereft.

Grace peeked at her wrist and saw confirmation that Wing had indeed checked his com when she gave that echoing sob. However, he'd clearly resisted the urge to stop and help. The boy had always been more resistant to melodrama than Free. He continued along the link without further pause and she lay quite still until she was sure he had gone.

Only then did Grace stir and with some difficulty push herself upright. She muttered a curse at her shaking arms and leaned against the chair leg to catch her breath. She clutched her cane, but was in no hurry to confront her frailty again by trying to stand. Instead, she accessed her com and displayed the scan Sparrow had stolen from Darsey. It showed a wealth of cells, rich with exotic matter and harvesting more from surrounding micro-singularities even as she watched. Cells that she would soon gain access to by offering longevity treatment to Darsey.

Grace allowed herself a rare moment of hope as she sat patiently, with one frond extended toward the link. Her mind lightly touched Wing's while she gauged the strength of his anger. She could still sense it clearly, despite the increasing distance between them. She sighed, but, at that moment, his thought patterns changed. They became more complex, less driven by emotion, and the old lady smiled. She shifted her scan of Darsey to one side, but kept it active while she made com contact with Wing.

"I'm truly sorry," she breathed, with all of the sincerity she could muster. "Truly, Wing, and I beg your pardon. Please. I should never have said such. We both know I owe you this apology and more. I hope you can accept it and forgive an old fool. Your business is none of mine and I'll no more make it such. I am shamed by my words. By my plots. Deep shamed. I swear to you, Wing, that I will hold your wife dear."

There was only a brief silence before he answered. "You swear it?" he asked harshly, and Grace smiled at getting a response so quickly, but was careful to keep that reaction from her voice.

"I promise to accept Darsey with complete welcome."

"Frond oath," Wing demanded, and she answered without hesitation.

"Frond oath, sworn on my honor. I mean it true and I'll prove it with my acts."

"You had best," Wing growled, and this time she did pause before answering.

"I shall, and, to start, I offer long-life treatment. If you wish, I will give Darsey full longevity, at my cost. Do you wish such, Lord?"

"I do."

Grace hesitated again, but more briefly than before. "Very good. Then I will do it, Lord, at your ask."

"I ask it now," Wing replied, and this time Grace truly had to struggle to keep her elation hidden.

"Ye, Lord. I will wait your call and, when it comes, join your lady soon-as. Best luck with proposing."

"Indeed," came the somewhat surprised answer as Wing considered the implications of his new resolution. "Proposing, certain-sure. Soon," Wing promised, and quickly cut the connection.

There was a brief silence and then Grace sighed lustily. Her explosive exhalation was a welcome release. Manipulating Nightwing was always a challenge, with all the potential for complete disaster.

"As I learnt at cost," Grace muttered more sourly, before the satisfaction of her recent success returned. "As well and at last,' she grumbled, almost afraid to give way to hope after so many millennia. She sniffed irritably, but managed to find a faint smile as she studied the data from Darsey that was still hanging before her.

"Genetic catalysis. Ye, looks like. The mixing of species and finally cells that can passage. All the schemes were worth it, to find me this." One trembling finger rose to gently caress the positive test that hung in the air before her. "At last it happens again and this time... this time I'm rightly placed. I won't fail a third time. I can't." Grace gulped for air and forced herself to relax, just a little, not too much. In her aged body, such indulgence could be fatal.

"Hmph," she mocked herself, smiling at her persistent fear of death. "Some things are hard to get used to." She sighed and her hand rose to the amber jewel at her throat. It felt cold and inert, its faceted edges sharp against her age-thinned skin. An empty vessel that she presumed to use, despite the ease with which it drew her blood.

She lowered her hand slowly and blinked at the red pearls that now ran the length of a finger. Pain followed the sight of blood and she "tsskked" as her com automatically sealed the thin cut. The injury was of no concern and common enough with energy infused jewels, but it reminded Grace of her single hope for the future of all sentients. A hope that she still pursued, despite her past failures. A hope that was more substantial now. Perhaps this time she would finally succeed in making her cells passage too. All she needed was access to Darsey's DNA.

49

Proposals

Darsey paced her room and practised the final exercise that Sparrow had downloaded to her com. She deliberately concentrated on something that annoyed her – Lady Grace – and let her anger build, while keeping any trace of it from her frond. To her relief that separation was much easier than she had feared. She had simply needed to be shown and already her thoughts were becoming private again.

"Done it," she murmured with some satisfaction, just before her console announced a visitor.

"Lord Nightwing wishes entry."

A flush of emotion colored Darsey's mind and frond and she rolled her eyes at the revealing lapse.

"Give me a moment... okay, let him in."

The door field dimmed, but there was no one beyond it. Darsey frowned, but, as she stepped forward, Nightwing appeared and strode into the room. He was clutching a handful of brilliant flowers and their scent swept ahead of him. He stopped quickly and thrust the bouquet across the distance still between them. She took several paces to close the gap and let her delight at the gift carry to her frond.

"They're stunning, but wildflowers from Blossom? How?"

"They'd already been collected for study." Wing gulped distractedly.

"Shouldn't they stay in the lab?"

"They can get more."

"Sure, why not. I think they're lovely. Thank you, Wing. I'll find something to put them in-"

Darsey stopped when Wing snatched the bouquet back.

"Ah, great," she continued, "just whisk them into a vase, why don't you?"

"Of course. Done."

Darsey looked up from the flowers Wing was still grasping to study him more closely. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. No. Well, yes. But I can't just glide away. What went between us was too good. I'll not end it. Not yet. Not ever." He paused in an effort to calm down and hopefully organise his words. "There's still so much excitement for us, Darse, and I want to share it."

Darsey tapped her foot impatiently. "If you're talking sex again-"

"Not," Wing protested and his eyes widened in what looked like panic. "Truly, I want more from you than the physical. I do."

"Well, you shouldn't. Wing, please." Darsey managed to halt her own flow of words and took a deep breath, before continuing with a shrug, "The people I love... they don't do so well. With the staying alive thing. You're already a frond down and... I just need you to think about this."

"I have," Wing insisted fiercely. "I've thought it through in full, along with Lady Grace. That talk was a total horror, but an accusation she threw at me showed me much. I finally saw that my Honor is my own. The Arck can't take it from me, not in any way. It grows from my own actions. And the single, most dishonorable thing I have ever done is withhold my total commitment from you. Darsey, I'm sorry. I know you've heard that too much and with too much cause. All I can say is that I truly love you. I need you and what I most wish is to found a new family, with you. Please... Please, just think of marrying me."

"What? Whoa, did you just say marry?"

"As you heard."

"Wing... I don't know where to start with that."

"Perhaps with what you truly feel."

"Okay then," Darsey took a deep breath against nausea. Her hands were fluttering as fast as her heart, so she clasped them together. "When I think about it, I have to admit, it's possible I love you. At least a little."

"How little?"

"Oh, dammit. Completely and utterly."

"Such will do."

'I'm not so sure it will. I love you far too much to hurt you again. Please don't ask me to."

Wing stepped close to Darsey for the first time since entering the room. She tried to look away, but he dropped the flowers, then cupped her cheek to turn her face back to his.

"Look at me, sweet. Your other reason for saying no, your responsibility to your people, I understand, but I won't stop for fear and I'll not let you run scared just for me." His frond lifted to touch hers and the instant intimacy that contact brought made her blush. "Risk is irrelevant. I want you."

"At what cost?"

"Any," Wing replied simply, but then shrugged a shoulder. "Certain-sure we can be more cautious. Use a little care and not so much abandon. Let's try, because I can't just end with my best friend."

Darsey swallowed and tried to smile. "I thought Free was your best friend."

"He was, but you have a wild streak Free doesn't. You also have several other attributes he lacks."

"So it's back to sex then?"

"Always."

"You're incredibly shallow," she accused. "It's one of the things I like about you. But the thing I like most is your love for family. Family and children."

Wing opened his mouth to protest, but Darsey raised a hand.

"It's right at the front of your fronds and it's a problem. We can be a couple, but we can't be biological parents. How do you think we'd cope with that? I can feel how much you want to be a father."

"I want you more," he answered without hesitation and his sincerity ran through both of their fronds. "I'm willing to forego natural children and every duty others have loaded on me, for you. I'll travel to Earth with you, Darse, and do my best to help. You can introduce me to your people. When they ask for proof of other species, they'll not expect an alien spouse."

Wing paused for the first time and frowned. "What are your leaders like? Will they put me in a cage for experiments?"

"We can only hope," Darsey chirped, but her smile soon vanished and she paused, gnawing her lip, before leaning into Wing. "Earth's not a problem. They need what we know and their technology sucks. They'll listen to us."

Darsey shook her head and stepped back. "What am I saying? I won't risk hurting you again, not ever. I need to know we can be together without me stealing bits. So, kiss me."

Wing obeyed at once and by the time he stopped they were both breathless, but still completely separate. His smile was huge and his frond relayed delight when Darsey's wrapped tighter around it. However, his voice was wistful. "Please."

She leaned closer in response, pressing against him, but there was still no strange merging. She gulped and gave a half laugh, before stepping back in defeat. "I've never seen a guy beg to get married before."

"I can be more pathetic still."

"No, please no. I'd like to think that's impossible. I'd also like to retain some respect for my fiancé."

"Darse?" Wing gasped, and his smile threatened to split his face.

"Alright, I surrender. Yes, Nightwing FarFlight, I will marry you."

There was only one response Wing could make to Darsey's acceptance and words were not involved. Instead, he continued to test their newfound ability to be close without merging and she had to admit she loved it.

It might have become even more exciting, but they were interrupted by a whistle from the door.

"Lady Grace wishes entry," Pertwing informed them and Wing groaned, but was still the first to pull back.

"Of course she does." Darsey sighed, stepping away too. "Do you think she'll go away if we ignore her?"

"No such. She'll just break in."

"She really doesn't have any respect for personal boundaries, does she?"

"None, but this time she's here at my inviting."

Darsey's annoyance kindled so quickly it flashed straight to her frond.

Wing instantly sent contrition and appeal. "I wish to see you safe and Grace is part of that. The old bird makes the best longevity field any cells could have."

Darsey's frond sent a much more polite query and he responded with a mental outline of the metabolic enhancements used to confer health and long life to anyone treated. "Lady Grace is the best at such-"

"Tut, child, my hair would rustle if it was not so true."

Darsey and Wing spun to face the old kres as she hobbled into the room.

"I grew fatigued with the wait at your door. No mind, girl, though you do send guilt most prettily. Should I offer congratulations here?"

"Such would be most proper." Wing beamed and pulled Darsey close again in a warm hug. "We've agreed to wed."

"Fortunately for my heart, I'm not surprised, but I am impressed. I know you've taken true care to consider the needs of others in this choice and I'm proud of you both. Well done."

Darsey and Wing simply stared at her and she cackled happily.

"Lucky your hearts have more strength than mine, or my compliment would have dropped you both. No worry, just stay as you are while I take a first scan."

"Scan?" Darsey wondered, and would have taken a step back, but the old lady tottered forward to grasp her arm.

"I mean you no harm," Grace promised, and her fronds relayed the truth behind that oath. "I need to check that your cells are compatible with treatment. May I do such?"

Darsey felt Wing's entreaty underlying the request and sighed, then shrugged. "Certain-sure."

"Excellent, this will take but a moment." Grace raised her com and tipped carefully forward, humming while her scan field swept across its target. "This looks good\- Wait..."

"Wait?" Darsey demanded. "What do you mean, wait?"

"This is most odd. Every cell seems to host exotic matter. How is such possible?"

Darsey and Wing exchanged a look and several thoughts, none of which did anything to solve the puzzle. "Don't know," Darsey answered succinctly. "Does it matter?"

"No, I think not. In truth, it might aid the process – wait."

"Wait? Again?"

"A moment, girl. This certain-sure needs checking."

A tense silence followed and lasted some minutes until Grace released a slow and satisfied hiss. "The result is true. You are fresh with child."

Darsey heard the words, but comprehending them was something else. "Huh?"

"Congratulations, my dear. To both of you. There's no doubt you're pregnant."

This time, Darsey blinked and found actual words. "You're joking."

"Do I look like a merry old maid filling my life with jests? As I say, so it is. You're with child, girl."

Darsey reached to Wing for support, but he was already sagging against her. They managed an awkward hug and slowly subsided onto the floor together. Mother, father and offspring.

50

Traitor

Gull Snowbeak sat crosslegged on his cabin floor above a hologram of Blossom as seen from space. He appeared to hover over the planet and gazed down at it with hooded eyes. He always enjoyed using his floor as a window. It reminded him that he was part of the Royal Fleet and that once again he had a new world at his feet. Gull smiled, and at that moment words fell into his meditating mind like stones into a pool. His scalp tightened against their ripples.

Report.

Gull sat up even straighter. Is that you, Mightiness?

Certain-sure, his Arck replied. Raptor follows my orders otherwheres and I also wished to make this contact.

I'm honored, sire, but have little to report. All continues as was.

Silence briefly returned and Gull was alone with his thoughts, but not for long.

I hoped you would fail to answer.

Apologies, sire, but targeting all three is a challenge. Since your order came, there is all times one missing. Even the cousins are ever apart. They seem to avoid each other.

Can you not destroy the whole ship?

Indeed, Mightiness, but that would not claim all three targets. We're in orbit and they move often between the planet and the ship. Even the old vulture has made planet fall. There is most urgent news also, Sire.

Tell.

The exile has a mate who is with child.

His child?

Certain-sure, Sire.

This is heavy news, old friend. I needs must consider a moment.

Gull made no response and returned to his rapt contemplation of the planet below. Some minutes passed before his master's mind disturbed him again. You've given me a choice that would burden any kres.

Indeed, Mightiness.

My heart aches to order it, but the child must also die.

I feared such.

Can you kill all four?

Easy-as, Sire. They're all to gather soon for a wedding.

There was another moment of silence and Sharpeye's reply seemed faint and tired. Let them have their chance to celebrate. Give them the first dance before striking. Wait 'til that is done and then make it quick, so they suffer not and need never know.

Gull hunched forward until all he could see was the gold and cream of Blossom. His hands trembled, so he pressed them flat against the floor.

It will happen as you desire, Magnificence. Your enemies will die. Farewell.

51

Wedding Day Jitters

Darsey reflected that her wedding day had already been an interesting one. An early morning apology from Free had been excruciatingly awkward, but at least it had been a distraction. Dealing with Lady Grace, who insisted on the kres tradition of overseeing the bride, had proved more challenging.

"The dead plants you wished are here," Grace announced in a mystified tone, and Darsey worked very hard to keep her thoughts quiet.

"They're freshly cut, it's called a bouquet and it looks lovely."

"Recently dead is still dead," the old lady observed with a sniff.

You should know, Darsey thought more loudly than she should and quickly buried her face in her bridal bouquet.

"A visitor wishes entry," Pertwing announced, and Darsey, her eyes still closed as she breathed in the flowers' perfume, gave an instant response.

"Let them in. Please."

"Should you not check first?" Grace suggested, but the door field had already disappeared and a tall figure stepped into the room.

"Jileea," Darsey exclaimed with satisfaction, "you made it in time for the wedding."

"Luck is with me," the mermaridian drawled and strode forward to envelop the bride in an unexpected hug. "Thanks to you, I'm sure. I was most plesed with your summons and the plan to bring settlers to this new system. You have excellent taste in future favors. Now tell me all, how did the outcast kres prevail on you to wed?"

"Shockingly easily, really. Oh, we're pregnant too."

"So your reunion went well," the pirate leader observed dryly, before staring around the room. "Your new ride also."

"It's time," Grace interrupted happily, and the main door field dimmed in response to show the glowing nest beyond.

"What?" Darsey squeaked, and Clear rose from the console where she'd been making final arrangements for decorations and music, to join her new friend.

"The celebrant decides the exact time to start," she reminded Darsey and sent mental reassurance as she adjusted a strand of the bride's hair. She twisted the long ringlet carefully down Darsey's back and stepped away to admire the effect.

Darsey returned her scrutiny with a level gaze and spoke quite calmly. "I'm going to throw up."

The phrase was unfamiliar, but the nausea behind it carried clearly to both kres. Clear's eyes widened in alarm and she stepped forward, so that she could take both of Darsey's hands in hers.

"You're fine," she stated firmly. "In truth you're beautiful, and when Nightwing sees you he'll jaw-drop. Nerves are normal, but trust me. You'll be great."

"Promise?" Darsey asked with an intensity that surprised them both. "I mean, it's all been so fast and I never saw myself as wife material."

Clear frowned. "It's not about material," she reassured the bride, and automatically released one of Darsey's hands to smooth the sweep of her cream and gold bridal gown. "You look perfect. It's about you and Wing. Forget the word 'wife'. Do you want to be with him or not?"

Darsey sighed and squeezed Clear's hand gratefully. "Of course." The bride took a deep, calming breath and instantly regretted it.

"Still sick?" Clear asked sympathetically, but Darsey didn't dare to nod in response.

She stood quite still and uselessly ordered the nausea to recede. A moist sniff, followed by the rattle of phlegm in a wrinkled throat, reminded her of their less-than-patient celebrant.

"Touching," Grace hawked, and cleared her throat again, before tipping forward in a rustle of heavy silk to stare critically up at Darsey. "You should vomit, girl. Might bring some color to your face."

"Lady Grace," Clear protested, with a surprisingly steely note to her voice, but the leader of the BGP tapped her cane once, ominously close to the younger kres' foot, to stop her protest before it went further.

"Hish, child. So protective and maternal already? Delightful. A pregnancy scan is in order, I believe, but it can wait 'til after this ritual. As for the bride..." She gave Darsey another thorough inspection and raised a finger decisively. "Stunning. Ye, absolutely stunning."

Darsey blinked in amazement, but the old lady seemed completely sincere. "Ah, thanks."

Grace tipped her cane forward as if to fend off the courtesy. "Yes. Stunning. I see how you sucked my boy's brains out. Right through his orbs."

There was a choking sound from Jileea, followed by a moment of silence while Darsey struggled with herself and wondered whether assaulting her marriage celebrant was likely to ruin her wedding. However, despite the anger that she deliberately projected, the old kres turned away in apparent unconcern.

"Time to go, chicks." Grace looked back over her shoulder once as she approached the nest entrance and one eyelid flickered at the bride in the briefest of winks. The elderly marriage celebrant hummed happily when she paused at the threshold to let Darsey join her and the two of them stepped into the nest together.

Darsey had expected to slow down to match Grace's pace, but instead she was the one who lagged behind. Her footsteps faltered when she looked up and then stopped completely while she stared in amazement at the heart of the ship.

The nest had been transformed into a wonderland. The sound of birdsong fell from the roof high above and the chamber was lit by the same dappled golden light that filled Blossom's forests. There was gravity for once and a flower-strewn floor had been placed across the widest point of the sphere, with chairs around its edge. A raised walkway appeared in front of her, leading to a floating dais where Wing waited.

He looked across at Darsey and suddenly she was moving again. She went straight past Grace without noticing and was equally oblivious to the petals now falling around her. She reached her love and never even saw Free standing beside him.

Wing reached for her hand and they clasped fingers, as well as fronds. Lady Grace belatedly joined them, along with Clear, but Darsey scarcely registered their arrival.

She saw only Wing, who raised an appreciative eyebrow at his bride, while his frond comment made her smile.

Darsey vaguely heard the ceremony that followed, but had to be prompted to make her vows. Her focus remained on Wing, until Lady Grace's loud and pointed introduction of Lord and Lady IceFlight.

She exchanged a solemn smile with her husband when she heard their new, family name, but then realized what that meant.

"What?" Darsey exclaimed, looking vaguely around the room. "We're married? Already?"

"Certain-sure," Grace purred in response. "Was the ceremony too brief, Lady, or have you had fresh thoughts?"

"No, of course not. It's just, I'm sure I've missed stuff. The bouquet! I've got to throw the bouquet."

"Now you wish to throw it out?"

"To the crowd. Someone has to catch it and then she'll be the next to get married." Darsey turned on her heel before Grace could express further disapproval. "Catch!" she called to the crew gathered behind them and threw the flowers over her shoulder.

There was the sound of scuffling and what might have been a curse, before Darsey turned back to discover the result of her impetuous gesture. She looked straight at a bemused Jileea, who despite her surprise clearly had a firm grip on the bridal bouquet. She was also standing on her seat, with one boot on the skirt of the kres seated beside her.

"Does this bring Luck?" the mermaridian enquired and Darsey smiled.

"Depends what you think of marriage, but yes, according to tradition it's supposed to be good luck."

"I think marriage is lucky plus." Wing grinned and claimed both of Darsey's hands.

"So far," Lady Grace sighed. "But a minute is not much of a test and now I'm the one to feel nauseated."

She pushed her way to the edge of the dais to face the semi-circle of seats below. "As the oldest present, I volunteer to offer blessing on this merge. I will also proclaim on two requests to found new dynasties."

Grace held her hands together palm to palm and slowly separated them to reveal the steady flame of a particle of activated exotic matter. "May your hearts be always true and the universe smile on you. May your children thrive and your line be long," she declaimed, and a murmur rose from the crowd as those watching repeated her last sentence.

"Computer, record," Grace ordered once silence fell again, and the hidden console signalled its readiness with a faint whistle. "I, Amber Grace, leader of the Bureau for Genome Protection and first among the Noble Aged, herewith register the foundation of two new lifelines. They are founded by Lord Nightwing IceFlight plus Lady Darsey IceFlight and by Lord Freefall FeatherFlight plus Lady Clearwing FeatherFlight, on this date and at this place. We give them welcome and wish them a long and fertile future."

She turned to face the two couples and offered them a brief, but definite bow, before gesturing toward stairs that had unfolded from the platform and now led down to the blossom-strewn floor.

All four spun in that direction, but Darsey abruptly pulled back on Wing's hand to make him stop.

"Wait!" she protested, realising what she'd almost missed. "I forgot the kiss. Wing, you have to kiss me."

"Kiss you?" Wing wondered, glancing at Grace as if to check her reaction to this breach of protocol.

Darsey's anger flared and almost flashed down her frond, but this time she stopped it.

"It's culturally important," she insisted, and managed to project both hurt and indignation as skilfully as Grace at her best.

The old kres' cane collected the back of Wing's calf in a meaningful manner, but he didn't seem to care. He started to smile and then grinned with delight.

"I welcome any excuse to kiss you," he said sincerely and Darsey stepped happily into his embrace.

"This isn't an audience participation thing like the ritual with the dead plants?" Grace grumbled, but the cause of her complaint ignored her.

Darsey concentrated only on the kiss, a promise for their future, underlined by enthusiastic and growing applause from their guests. She came up for breath and surfaced into the centre of the galaxy.

Stars exploded around them, a riot of color and light set against the dark of space. She could still dimly see their guests' faces, entranced within a hologram created by all the power of the ship.

Happy merging, Free's mind murmured to hers, while his fronds sent trust and welcome.

"Wow," Wing breathed against Darsey's cheek and they stopped again to study the stars surrounding them, entranced by the chamber wide spectacle.

Soft music swelled to fill the room further, with the harmony of a dozen different wind instruments, and the couple managed to follow the rest of the bridal party down the stairs, despite still holding each other tightly. Darsey balanced carefully in her heels and make it safely to the floor in the same hug.

When her feet touched the ground the chairs vanished, to create a flower strewn dance floor. The guests surged onto it and dozens of feet crushed the petals, so that a heady scent rose to join the rippling music.

Darsey and Wing were in such a close embrace they simply had to start swaying to be dancing together. The crowd cleared a path as their confidence grew and soon they were spinning through the universe, encouraged by frond warmth and applause. They circled the room, with other couples following in their wake and Darsey sighed happily.

"Do you think we'll ever find each other old and boring?"

"We won't be old for ages-plus, but I already find you boring."

Darsey laughed and realized she was as happy as she had ever been. "That's a relief. No need for boring, wedding night sex then."

Wing's frond instantly wrapped around hers to send contrition and despair, making her smile while they swept through the dancing crowd. Everything was perfect and nothing could spoil the most wonderful night of her life.

52

Confession

Free tried to tear his gaze from Darsey, but it seemed impossible. His wife murmured something in his ear, but he hardly knew what. The evening couldn't possibly get any worse.

He finally turned to Clear with a smile he knew was distracted, but was also the best he could manage. She squeezed his forearm warmly and then left. She merged with the crowd and disappeared to do... something.

Free briefly wondered what, but that was irrelevant so long as she was happy. He would always keep her happy.

Which meant he needed help. There must be some cure for his present madness, but only one person would know. He searched the room for Lady Grace and saw her sitting in a circle of acolytes and crew. She had them all laughing, even his hardened Tactical Senior, so she must have been telling some of her more scurrilous Court stories.

Free made his way around the dancers and the circle opened at his approach.

"Would you care to dance, Lady?" Free requested and the old kres cackled delightedly. "I'm most serious."

"Hish, my dear. We've no wish to make your wife jealous."

"I repeat, Grace, that I'm serious. Clear will doubtless understand and at this moment she's busy. I've a support field ready for you and I promise to move most slow. Shall we?"

Free offered his hand and the old lady examined it suspiciously. He offered a smile too and she sniffed, before placing her withered claw in his grasp. A glow flowed from his wrist to encase his partner and her feet came off the floor in response. She rose and floated over petals, wafted into the dance by the young leader. Startled glances followed the couple and she began to chuckle.

"What a charming idea. You're crew seem quite shocked."

"I don't usually dance."

Grace laughed harder and when she tipped her head back one of Free's fronds snuck between them, to surreptitiously touch hers.

Can you help me?

Grace kept smiling, but her mental response was guarded. How?

I fear I might be bonded.

Good news, surely.

Not to my wife.

The old woman stiffened in his arms, to stand somewhat straighter, but her smile remained in place. Tell me.

When I first greeted Darsey, it was strange. My skin burned and my chest was so tight I could hardly breathe. If I brush past her it feels, wonderful.

A moment, child. They continued to waft through the dancers, but Free felt the heat of a scan against his palm. I fear it's true. You've bonded with the alien.

They circled in genuine silence for several seconds and Free knew his mind was leaking grief and horror, but it was impossible to stop.

Isn't Wing bonded to her? How is this possible? At first I thought she must be a biological weapon. Something aimed at kres.

But no longer?

No. I've felt her mind. She loves him.

Indeed, but you were right. For you the girl is a weapon.

Free hissed and Grace chuckled to cover the inappropriate sound. She's not deliberately destructive. Her pheremones do lock with yours, as well as your cousin's, but I don't believe such was planned. I gather her people are normally pheremone free.

Then how?

She absorbed cells from Wing and they've changed to suit her body. Her hands seem to have pheremone glands that were once his. I believe you were also caught, because you and Wing are so similar.

Chemically similar? Because we're cousins?

Genetically and you are more than cous-

Free stopped, nearly collecting another couple, but completely distracted by the thought Grace had tried to repress. "More than cousins? What do you mean?"

The old lady tugged at her young partner and he returned them both to motion. Nothing of note she thought brusquely. You've more urgent issues and decisions to make.

What decisions? I assumed I was pheremone bonded to my wife. How could I have been so wrong?

Grace squirmed in Free's arms as if he was tickling her. Naivety. Youth. Stupidity. They're all much the same and tend to come from inexperience. You were excited by a new attraction and a fresh relationship. Such always offer an easy thrill.

Free tightened his frond around the old lady's in fresh anguish. Clear's involvement is your fault. We should have waited to wed.

That was my doing, Grace agreed without a hint of regret. But it did have one positive result.

I should hope for more than one. I love my wife. How can I hurt her? I'll stay true to Clear, as long as she wants me.

Free stopped thinking. He seemed to have no words left, only feelings, while he turned and turned in a scented vortex of loss and confusion. He let the dance take him and withdrew his frond, but one of Grace's strands darted forward to renew contact.

A most noble decision, dear one. The temptation to try to win Darsey must be great. However, this path will cause less pain for all. Especially as Clearwing now carries your child.

Free stopped again and this time no nudging could shift him. "You're sure? I'll not tolerate some game to make me do as you wish. Not about this."

"Indeed not. I'd never lie about a child. The scan is fresh. I took it during the ceremony. I was bored."

"You were the celebrant!"

"Your point?"

"I think it's more relevant that Clear was distracted, giving you the chance to nosy-beak."

The old lady ignored his accusation, to instead send Free the results of the scan. He released her to study it closely, while around them other couples also parted, as the first dance came to an end.

"A daughter," he breathed and for a moment his mind shared joy with Grace, but that warm contact was suddenly swamped by horror.

A frond scream ripped through their minds and froze everyone in the room. It was followed by a real scream, raw enough to make Free flinch. What the hail was happening on his ship?

# 53

# Betrayed

Darsey turned in Wing's arms and tried to see where the shriek was coming from, but her husband swung her behind him before she could. She had no clear view of what was happening, but the sense of horror grew as more people shared it.

Fear leapt from mind to mind, escalating as it went, to become a panic that carried the crowd with it. People began to move and then run, fleeing from the darkened edge of the nest.

Wing and Darsey were pushed backwards, struggling to stay on their feet against the mass of bodies. The stampede swept them against the wedding dais and he lifted her over his head and up to safety.

Stay, his frond ordered, before he turned and pushed his way back into the wall of confused and stumbling bodies. She saw him haul a young sub to his feet, the beanpole boy from the shuttle, before the youngster could be trampled, but then he was gone.

"Wing," Darsey called, scared of losing him in the riot and, as if in answer, a golden hand clutched the edge of her stage. She leapt forward to help, gripping the scrabbling fingers and they instantly clutched back.

They held Darsey's hand tight and pulled, so that she collapsed onto her knees. The grasping fist relaxed briefly, but before she could escape, it snatched higher, to grip her wrist.

It held so hard she lost all feeling in her arm. Another groping hand appeared, followed by a head rising over the dais edge, and Darsey froze. She stopped prying at the fingers still tightening in her wrist and stared instead at the remains of Gull Snowbeak.

The ship's Senior looked back from the ruin of his face, but when he tried to focus, his left eye puckered and slid downwards, along with the skin that had been his cheek.

Darsey made a small, inarticulate noise and started striking at his arm. Her fist flew through his protective field to break the bones in his wrist, but he seemed unmoved. White shards cut through his brittle skin like claws shredding paper, while his grip tightened.

The melting kres looked down at her trapped hand and the folds of skin across his lower face split in what might have been a smile.

"Mistake," he whispered, and even though that word cracked and broke, rising an octave, it was chilling. "For sure, your husband will soon return."

A sound on the far side of the platform seemed to promise just that, but Darsey turned her head to see Lady Grace scrambling onto the dais. Clear appeared behind her, boosted to apparent safety too and they were followed by Wing and Free.

Gull levered himself up over the edge in response, using Darsey to balance his weight and then dragged her backwards, away from her husband. She crouched on the opposite side of the wedding dais and Gull pulled her trapped arm up behind her back, to make her gasp.

Wing's face set as bleak as sleet, but his eyes were molten gold. "Don't," he stated flatly and although there was no answer the pressure on Darsey's arm eased. She sent Wing a shaky smile and he nodded gravely back, but she could sense his shock.

Lady Grace belatedly tottered to her feet too and was the first to break the silence. "Well, this pecks." She tilted her head sideways and studied Gull with disgust. "Why hold fast to the girl, traitor? I assume there's no safe spot on board to flee to."

"T-true," the ex-Senior agreed. His voice whistled and burbled while the body supporting it continued to change. It took him a moment to co-ordinate his limbs, but his hands slowly opened and he managed to release Darsey.

Wing leapt to catch her when she staggered free and swept her back across the dais to join their friends, lined along its far edge. They clung together briefly, but then Darsey turned, being careful not to knock Grace off their perch, to face her attacker. Gull had oozed closer to the centre of the platform and seemed to be congealing there while his skin bubbled and lost color.

"What's happening?" Darsey whispered, and it was Grace who answered.

"The traitor is becoming a bomb. His cells are changing their very structure to form volatile chemicals that will soon combine. No part of this ship will survive intact."

"Oh."

Silence returned and Darsey realized that the frond cascade that had swept the room with panic was gone. The crew was huddled together across the chamber, but a number of them were already edging back toward their leader.

Free was staring aghast at his ex-senior, but abruptly stepped away from the group to confront his old friend.

"You were my mentor. From graduation, you were my most respected superior. We shared all danger. When I earned my first command you asked to join me. You said you'd serve with no-one else. Gull, I thought we had loyalty. I felt it-"

"No, lord," his ex-senior's voice whistled and sighed. "We had respect. We had love, but my loyalty was already foresworn. To the Arck. Sharpeye and I studied together, shipped together, and I gave oath to him long before you drew first breath. He made our empire truly great. We owe him all honor. He keeps our families safe and our worlds stable. We've no need of meddlemuch gene teks and the danger they bring."

He had to pause, panting, and gave Grace a venomous glance before his one eye rolled back to glare at Wing instead. "We've certain-sure no need of those who hide in shadows." He was forced to pause for several whistling breaths, but Free's emotions had steadied.

'What does he mean?' Clear wondered, looking toward Wing, but her husband sent her a warning frond touch they all felt.

"He's raving, clear enough."

"Not," the remains of Gull spat. "The Shadows truly exist and your precious Wing is one such. He was sent to the Rim as their spy, and was all safe in-mission while you fretted for him."

Grace made a small satisfied sound, as if she'd guessed something correctly, but Darsey was bewildered. It seemed her husband had secrets. None of which were presently important.

Free was certainly untouched by the revelation and stepped forward again. "I know all of Wing's affairs and am well satisfied."

Gull stopped in surprise, but then fresh malice flowed from his twisting fronds. "I know much of Nightwing too. As does our all-sensing Arck. He lets the Shadows run such missions as suit, but their secret order is the true danger. They dare to judge what best guards our people, but that power falls to Sharpeye only."

"Please!" Grace snapped, sending impatience and disgust. "You've come to kill us, no need for torture too. Spare us your political justifications and just murder the chick who still holds to you as a surrogate sire." She had to pause for breath too and her defiance proved too much for her. She lost her balance, falling forward while she groped for her cane.

Darsey moved quickly to catch the old lady and managed to steady her, but Grace's hand felt incredibly small and dry in hers, shrunken like the dessicated claw of a long-dead bird of prey.

Grace clung to Darsey in response and one of her bristled, old fronds rustled higher to make contact with her supporter. You've strength, girl, and control. Use them better. Use them well. Now take my necklace. Yes, the jewel. I'll drop it free on two. One... two.

Darsey blinked in surprise. Not at the lecture, but at the order. However, her hand snaked out automatically and something landed in it. She gripped it tightly and winced when that something cut her palm. She swore softly and dropped the gem, but caught its chain, which she wrapped around her wrist.

Take care, the old lady thought. It's sharp-as.

Thanks for the belated warning. Grace-

The old lady abruptly pulled away, pushing herself upright on her cane, while throwing one last word back at Darsey. Go.

Where? Wing wondered, clearly receiving the same command and Grace looked up at him with a grimace.

"I've all times tried to keep you safe. More so than any other, yet I've often failed. Not this time, though." She turned carefully away to face Free and hobbled to join him in the middle of the dais. "You also. You've grown into a most Honorable kres and I'm proud of you. Now back." Back.

Free took a few hesitant steps in response to her frond command and she shooed him with a hand, making him move more quickly to rejoin the others.

Gull collapsed further in a spray of body fluids, and his voice warbled wildly. "Time... to bid... farewell. My mind is... near gone and all restraint with it... we die soon."

However, he was ignored as the young couples' attention remained fixed on the old lady and her unexpected farewell.

"Grace," Wing began, but the Leader of the BGP gave him no chance to finish.

Instead, she smiled affectionately, before her arm snapped out, her com blazed, and she shot him.

That blast caught Wing first and then Free, to hurl them both from the dais. A second later it hit Darsey and Clear, who tumbled backwards too, falling on top of their husbands. All four collapsed on the floor together.

Darsey's chest heaved and it hurt, but not as much as she expected. It felt like she'd been pushed hard, rather than shot. Arms closed around her and she realized she was lying on her husband.

You kay? he asked and she sent reassurance, but before she could recover enough to stand she was knocked flat again by a bone-thrumming hum. The vibration came from the dais, where a viscous half globe had appeared. Grace's form seemed to waver and shimmer at the centre of that half bubble.

Darsey staggered upright, pulling Wing after her. She balanced on tip-toe to stare over the dais edge.

"Wha-?" Gull demanded from its floor, and Grace settled beside him with a sigh, kneeling in a puddle of dissolving kres.

"My cane holds a secret it seems your all-knowing Arck was ignorant of. My protection field. I found a way to charge it to level ten plus. You'll miss your main targets, betrayer."

Gull's head still had enough integrity to reply. They know of this place and they'll come for your brats. I told Lord Raptor all.

"Hmmm," Grace mused, and leaned lower to whisper in his ear, "Raptor's a Shadow. He passed on none of your spying."

A last gurgle came from Gull in response, along with a final frond touch of smug satisfaction. No matter.

Darsey heard it quite clearly and it chilled her. She exchanged anxiety with Wing, but that was all, before she bushed her fronds wide to keep eavesdropping.

Grace's mind was easy to overhear and its power pushed Darsey back into Wing when the old lady blasted Gull with a desperate query. What else have you done? Her fronds bombarded his until his dying brain could no longer resist.

I'm thorough, old vulture, and your shield is no matter. Inconvenient only... for me. Sad-as though for those you sought to save. This way was... ah... quicker for them. Now their own ship will betray them.

Grace jerked to face Darsey and the old lady's mind screamed a warning. Darsey turned to run and Wing half-lifted her in a bounding leap. She looked back to see Clear and Free racing behind them, but then the dais exploded.

54

Plan B

Light filled the room, searing Darsey's eyes despite her efforts to curl into a ball. She wrapped her arms around her abdomen and bit back a scream when the brightness drilled into her brain. It seemed to last an age, driving past her eyelids. She tucked tight and endured until she was sure the blast had passed.

Darsey slowly opened her eyes and squinted, then blinked in sudden panic. All she could see was black, shot through with the white flashes of a brilliant afterimage. She groaned and realized that the massive explosion had been eerily quiet. Grace's shield had saved them all.

Darsey collapsed back to the floor, no longer struggling to stand or see, and shut her eyes, letting her com field mend them.

"Darse." Someone coughed beside her and Wing's hand closed over hers. That warm grasp was all she could feel, as her numbed eyes and frond demanded most of her attention.

However, someone was talking, someone quite close, and Darsey tried to rally her senses, because that someone was young and female. She managed to focus on a dull monologue and instantly knew the voice wasn't Clear's.

Darsey concentrated a little harder and the flat, expressionless words began to make sense.

"...a dance was all I wanted. He looked alone-as, sitting in front of the wall, just staring at it. So I asked him to dance, because he was such a good senior, and when I saw him close I panicked. I started it, Leader. I started the riot."

"Sub-plus Drift, be calm," Free ordered hoarsely in the eerily still room. "Gull alone started this and carries all blame. Instead, think on Lady Grace, who saved us and has earned our gratitude for all time."

There was a quiet murmur of agreement and Darsey began to feel more than Wing's hand. Something soft was settling on her. Feathery touches up and down her body made her open her eyes and struggle to focus.

At first, Darsey thought she had failed again, because everything around her was gray, but then wisps of white and black wafted past and she realized the room was filled with smoke and ash. She sat up and tried to see the dais, but it was lost in haze. A dark cloud was spreading from it and she could only just see Wing sitting beside her. She leaned into him and he put his arm around her.

"At least you're safe," he stated with quiet intensity.

For now, she thought, but managed to keep panic from her frond.

Wing hugged her closer, but at that moment the ship moved and everyone felt it change course.

"Dampers must be out," Free noted uneasily and wrapped his arms more tightly around Clear. 'What's our course, NS?'

The Navigation Senior pushed her way back through the close-packed crew to reach the wall and access its console interface. However, before she could touch that curved surface a guard field flashed into life. It seared across the officer and she was dead before her body collapsed, to roll slowly away from the lethal barrier.

Darsey gasped, part of a general shocked intake of breath. It was hard to believe the NS was so suddenly dead and Darsey struggled with the horror that had claimed her wedding day. The stunned quiet was broken only by a growing hiss, a whisper from the Grace's outer skin, until Darsey cleared her throat.

"I think this is Gull's plan B," she rasped, and Free looked up in quick agreement.

"Of course it is. He's the best drakking senior in the whole gatting fleet. He's left some second way for the ship to kill us."

"But how?" Wing wondered, and it was Clear who whispered a reply.

"What if... what if he's going to jump us? To the Great Attractor?"

Her quiet suggestion was loud enough for her fellow kres to hear, and abruptly the crew was moving again. They crowded even closer, every one of them trying to reach their leader. Most of them started scanning the console barrier with their coms and many tried to force a signal through it, hopelessly jamming the frequencies needed.

Their cries and queries were drowned only by their mental clamour. It grew by the second, until Darsey intervened. She dragged her nails slowly along the metal floor. The resulting screech silenced everyone and she rose smoothly, despite knees that trembled inside her gown.

"Be. Calm," she said with icy precision, speaking as loudly as she could, risking them hearing the fear in her voice, but near yelling anyway in an effort to drown out all the voices in her head. The mental cacophony lessened, and the thoughts grew quieter until she could block them out again.

"Why?" she asked crisply, with a newfound calm. It wasn't the numbness of shock, but a serenity that seemed to come from some unsuspected reserve of strength.

You're a mother, a voice in her mind pointed out, and you'll do any-all needed, without panic or fear.

Darsey shook her head at the unexpected intrusion and pushed it aside to pursue her own line of thought. "We need to think this through. I mean, why jump us to the Attractor? The ship would have to fly back to the rift and then open a passage, all of which would take time. We could use that time to regain control and anyway, jumping us to kill us is too complicated. There's an easier way."

"I've got a visual," Clear blurted, and they all turned to the young officer. She had modified her wrist com to receive data directly from the ship's sensors and a hologram of their new destination appeared. It hung above her arm in gold and cream perfection. It was already large enough to fill the air above them, but growing steadily as they dived toward it.

"Blossom," someone husked, and that word seemed to trigger the reality of their fall.

The Grace slammed into the planet's atmosphere without dampers or safety fields. The hiss from the hull became a roar and the deck bucked hard, throwing everyone to the ground. They gripped the swaying floor when it tilted further, sloping toward the link, and people began to slide, slipping helplessly into that darkened hole. Darsey reached for Wing, but he was already gone.

She looked for him in horror, but he was the only person not falling. He must have pulsed his com at full power to drive himself back up the slope Darsey saw him skid upwards to grasp Clear's arm. Wing dragged the DS to her knees and pulsed them both diagonally downhill, toward the wall with the console. He stayed with her and carried her into the energy screen guarding that surface.

"No!" Free screamed and Darsey winced, but Wing's modified blade dropped from his com to his hand and he raised it in perfect time to strike the barrier before they did.

The glowing blade stabbed the shield with a shower of sparks and a crack that carried over the scream of the ship. The field shattered and disappeared when the sword passaged through it, so the couple behind slid safely to stop against the console.

Darsey sagged and pulsed her com to halt her downward slide. She pulsed herself across the room instead, angling down to where Wing was supporting Clear.

"I can't access anything," the DS protested. "It's locked by senior code and something more."

Wing turned to look back up the tilting deck and a smile flickered on his face when his eyes met Darsey's. She felt a surge of warmth and hope, but then his gaze moved on to find Free, who was moving too. The Leader reached them and skidded to a halt, sprawling beside his wife to offer his com to her. The ship shuddered and Darsey bumped the rest of the way to join her friends.

"We've but minutes," Free panted, bracing himself against the wall on either side of Clear to hold her in place. She released her desperate pressure against that smooth curve, then used her husband's access code to force her way into the guarded display.

The ship swayed and wailed as their dive continued to strip its hull and the deck across the nest abruptly twisted. It buckled upwards to block the link and the metal at Darsey's feet creased upward, to hold her in place. She stopped her com pulse, grateful for the step, but several kres below had been caught in the mangled deck. Any screams were lost in the growing sounds of the ship's rupture, but minds could still be heard and Wing looked up to lock eyes with his wife.

The traitor left defenses plus, he warned, and this is far from done. Take care.

A series of blasts rang through the nest, loud enough to be heard over the wail of their fall and Darsey was thrown through the air. She hit the deck then rolled across its cracked surface. She thumped to a halt to lie there, bruised and battered. When her head stopped spinning she lifted it from the shattered deck to find a scene of carnage.

An explosion had destroyed the activated console and flung her friends across the nest. Smaller blasts lit the room, again and then again. Each flash blew a new hole along the curve of the nest.

The crew tumbled and slid over petals and ash, tossed around by growing mayhem. More blasts lit the room and Darsey saw slivers of metal dart from the walls. They arched toward the central pilot's seat, where the ruined dais now lay. A dozen silver diamonds reached that crater and circled it, before spiralling out as if seeking something.

Targets, the strange voice said in Darsey's head and she wondered who was taking the time to keep her informed, but only briefly. A buzz from behind made her flip onto her back. Two slivers zipped past and dived into a group of people huddled beside her with deadly accuracy. Like oversized arrow tips, they burrowed through anyone in their path.

Darsey closed her eyes and pushed with her heels, sliding over a floor suddenly slick with blood. She reached a still form and dragged it on top of her, burrowing deep under a corpse she had no wish to recognise.

A dart whined past overhead and she froze. She lay very, very still and waited for it to pass, before she dared to peek out.

Darsey was looking for Wing and she spotted him at once. He was one of the few people still upright. She found him in mid-somersault and as he spun through the air, a dozen slivers curved past him. Two collided and disintegrated in a spray of shrapnel. He landed lightly and three corrected course to plunge straight at him. His sword swung and they fell to the floor in pieces.

Wing instantly sprinted away. Straight at the thickest concentration of drones. What was he doing? Darsey cried out, even as she realized he was doing exactly what he should be doing. What she should be doing too. Fighting back.

You're pregnant, the voice in her head objected testily and she suddenly knew who it sounded like.

Grace?

Indeed.

Darsey paused in pushing away the body hiding her and ordered her com to stop her hallucinations. Her effort was rewarded by a dry laugh.

You won't get rid of me so easily, girl and you've other concerns right now. Just lie still and watch my boys work.

Darsey automatically looked for Wing again. She found him in mid-air once more, slicing through a pack of darts in a spray of sparks and metal splinters. He landed in a forward roll that helped him slip under an incoming sliver, but it still grazed his temple, to leave behind a line of red.

More darts converged and Darsey made a small, keening noise, but Free was suddenly there. He skidded on his knees, straight past Wing and grabbed the sword when he skated by. Free came to his feet and jumped to skewer a sliver. He landed and spun to take out two more before sprinting away, chased by every dart that was close. He yelled and accelerated then leapt high, straight over the blackened hollow that used to be a dais. The drones swept after him and disappeared into the dark fog.

Darsey looked frantically for Wing, but he was on his feet and running. He skidded straight into the crater, sliding over its lip to land crouched and half hidden. His fronds swirled around him and images joined them. The scans and control points of a pilot console appeared and Darsey let her head fall back. They were going to make it.

She stared at the ceiling while her pulse slowed and something much closer came suddenly into focus. She was looking at the gleaming tip of a killer dart. Its skin rippled like bubbling mercury and Grace screamed in Darsey's head.

It's seen you. Run.

Darsey wriggled frantically sideways, heaving at the corpse, but the sliver was already diving. It sliced toward her chest as she threw the body aside. The hum was ear splitting, but she flung herself sideways at combat speed.

The drone slammed into the deck behind her. Its nose crumpled, but a line of energy spiralled around its body, growing brighter as she stared transfixed.

It's mending itself, Grace informed her. I suggest a response-

Darsey attacked before she could finish and before the sliver could fix itself. She rolled back toward the dart and her heel slammed down on it.

"Arrgghh," she cried in unexpected pain and her foot rebounded from the dart's armoured skin making her dainty cream shoe fly through the air. She groaned, and the sliver rose from the deck turning to aim its undamaged point at her face.

You're with child, the interloper in her head snapped.

"You've already said that."

Quiet and listen, girl. Your body won't passage at this time. It can't while you carry a child. Think what cell merging might do to a babe trying to grow inside you. Pregnancy hormones have switched your ExM off.

Darsey absorbed the knowledge that she could no longer passage and her advantage in fighting was gone. The dart rose to hover at eye height, before abruptly leaping to full speed. She only had time to blink and it was on her. She closed her eyes, knowing she was too late.

However, nothing hit her. Seconds passed and Darsey unclenched her teeth, before carefully opening one eye and then the other. Right in front of her, so close it was hard to focus on, was the dart. It hovered, unmoving, in a spot between her eyes. She released a shaky breath and slid to one side, before realizing something else. The roar of their fall had eased. The ship still groaned and swayed, but it was no longer screaming at re-entry.

Darsey pushed herself to her feet and staggered toward the ruined dais. In the centre of the room, Wing was flying the ship, balanced in the crater and tapped directly into a massive hologram. It surrounded him, while he struggled to control it with fronds and hands, fighting against the last vestiges of Gull's sabotage.

"We're close to the planet," he yelled. "Brace each other. This landing won't be gentle."

Darsey looked around for shelter, just as Free closed on her at speed. He had an arm around Clear and half-carried her with him.

"This way," he called, throwing his free arm about Darsey's waist, to lift both females toward a buckled stretch of deck. He chose a trough of undamaged floor between two peaks and settled them within it. He wedged himself above them and held them both close as the ship began to buck again.

Darsey could turn her head far enough to see Clear, but when they made eye contact her friend sagged, her lids fell and she collapsed on the far side of Free.

'Is Clear alright?' Darsey yelled in alarm, but he sent reassurance.

"Ye, she programmed a com coma. Anaesthetised herself. She'll be most relaxed when we hit- ah, land. Do you wish to do the same?"

"Will you?"

"No."

"Me neither. Is this crash part of the Arck's plan?"

"Certain-sure. It's his usual SNEDO."

"S-snedo?"

"Situation Normal Everyone Drakked Over."

Darsey managed a laugh against Free's shoulder. "What a great tombstone I'll have. 'D. IceFlight, SNEDO'."

"Dee? Is that your favored name?"

Darsey laughed again, with a tinge of hysteria this time, while the noise around them grew once more. "No. It's j-just my initial." Only Devyn called me Dee.

The roar became deafening, but Free's calm thought slipped easily into Darsey's mind, distracting her back to their inane conversation, which had suddenly become more serious. Who's Devyn?

My brother, she answered, with a surge of grief too great to control. However, before Free could respond, the universe seemed to fall apart around them. The vibration felt like it was going to tear her to pieces even faster than it split the ship. What the hell was Wing doing?

Darsey tried to see past Free's shoulder, but it was impossible to lift her head. His weight was crushing and she panted frantically fast trying to hold back darkness. Something was wrong, she knew it.

What genius, Grace grumbled in her head. Wing's trying to fly a wreck and keep its shield up too. That's hugely demanding.

Darsey fought down the urge to argue with a voice in her head and tried to think instead. There was no way she could move to help her husband, but perhaps she didn't need to shift. She closed her eyes and tried to lift her frond, but it was pressed flat. She gave up and concentrated on opening its bristles instead, unfurling them as far as she could. Wing!

Darsey? Busy.

I know. Let me help. I can keep the shield up. She lay gasping and trying to hold onto jagged pieces of her husband's mind. The connection was worse than a cell phone in a tunnel. Darsey might have giggled hysterically, if she'd been able to get enough air.

Hard to hold, Wing warned, and handover will be a ditch.

Darsey sent back all the determination she could and was rewarded by a mental image of what her husband was doing. Holy hell. How was she supposed to help with that? It was going to be like handing over a shattered cup. If she dropped any of those tiny shards the remnants of their shield would fall apart and everyone would die.

No wonder Wing was reluctant to attempt an exchange, but the effort of doing both was too much, even for him. Darsey had no choice and neither did he. Give, she ordered and he obeyed.

A million shards scattered through Darsey's mind and she threw her thoughts after them, but there were too many. Some scuttled away like beetles climbing her hands, while those she thought she'd caught seeped away like water through her fingers. The pieces were too different and holding them in a single head impossibly hard.

Darsey froze. The world roared around her and metal peeled from the ceiling above in a fluttering strip. Through the gash she saw fire and ice, as the cold atmosphere burned around them. How could she possibly hold back such an inferno?

By trying. Even when it seemed impossible.

Darsey closed her eyes to the hell outside and reached for the threads of the ship's shield. They were shrivelling, curling away from her, but she stretched her mind and kept stretching. Past pain, past agony and past nausea, she gathered them together with desperate haste.

She couldn't hold them all, not against such pressure, but she finally had enough. At least she hoped she did.

Darsey pressed each energy strand and its trailing sparks into an imaginary globe. A crazed and dented skin that she struggled to smooth around the remnants of their craft. She could feel multiple rips in her armour and countless cracks running between chasms, but somehow she held it together.

Hurricane heat blasted her, but she didn't flinch. She accepted the pain of re-entry and kept that terrible abrasion away from the skin of their vessel.

The ship wobbled then dipped sharply, diving more steeply, but that wasn't Darsey's fault. It was up to Wing to pilot their desperately damaged craft, while she held back the fire. She sucked in each desperate breath and did just that, even when they crashed.

The ship landed with jarring impact. It hit the ground a glancing blow and bounced back into the air, before falling again. The collision crushed Darsey even deeper into the hollow and flattened her shield across the ship. The next impact was too much for it. Crushed between the ground and a crumpled hull it disintegrated.

Darsey groaned and let go. Her mind spun away too, so she hardly felt the series of jolts that followed. The shaking continued, although it gradually grew easier to resist and the roar slowly faded to a single groan. She finally managed to focus on the image above Wing.

He'd touched down in a meadow and the ship was ploughing along the planet's surface, gouging its way deeper into the soft soil. It slowed further, until the prow met more solid rock and they suddenly stopped.

Everyone tumbled forward when the Grace lurched up and onto its nose. It hovered at the point of tipping over, but Wing fired thrusters and it fell back with a crash. The wreck of the ship had reached its final rest.

Inside its buckled remains, Darsey sagged and found herself staring at the gold braid of Free's tunic. "Are we alive?" she whispered, and his chest heaved with a surprised laugh.

"I think, yes. Thanks to Wing."

"Wing," Darsey realized, and pushed away from her protector, who seemed happy enough to release her and offer both arms to his recovering wife. Darsey staggered out of their furrow, almost tripping on the remains of her skirt. She reached more solid footing and spun in a disoriented circle, looking for her husband.

"Wing," she called again, and was frightened by how forlorn that cry sounded, but before she could panic, a familiar mind touched hers.

I'm fine, love. I got thrown from the dais and now the crew has me.

You're hurt?

No, just mugged with gratitude. I'll come soon-as, just, stay away from the dais.

Darsey frowned in surprise and tried to stare through the remaining smoke and steam. Most of the nest had survived and the only sign of the massive explosion at its heart was a ragged crater where there had once been a dais. Abruptly, Darsey realized that wasn't the only sign of the attack. In the middle of the pit sprawled a blackened form.

Grace's com field had been enough to keep her body relatively intact, but nothing more. Darsey lowered her eyes in horror and her nausea from a lifetime ago returned. She struggled with it while people moved slowly past her, drawn to thank Wing and pay their respects to the corpse in their midst.

Hish and hush, that impossible voice whispered through Darsey's skull when she choked back a sob. I never knew you cared.

Neither did I. Grace, I don't know where or what you are, but thank you. You died to save my family.

I've done so many times, but for now I'll leave you all in peace. Look up, Darsey.

Darsey slowly lifted her head, but that fire-flayed body had vanished and she could see only the stricken kres kneeling around it. However, when she looked up, Sparrow walked away from that group to join her. He placed a hand gently under her elbow and led her further from the corpse. His frond touch was sad but resigned, and even carried reassurance. "She saved you all and was pleased to do so."

"Oh," Darsey choked, lost for further words, and Sparrow patted her arm, before releasing her and extending his hand.

"The jewel, if it please you," he instructed gently and Darsey struggled to untangle the necklace from her wrist using only one hand. Sparrow had to help her unwind her earlier twisting and she finally passed it to him with unexpected reluctance. A faint voice might have called farewell, but she couldn't be sure.

"Full thanks, Lady IceFlight. If you're well enough, I believe your husband needs your support."

"Of course," Darsey murmured, still listening for an elusive voice, before turning back toward the dais.

"Not that route," Sparrow corrected and pointed at a group of kres jostling nearer the wall.

"Of course. I'm a bit distracted," Darsey answered vaguely, but then there was a gap in the crowd and she saw who she was searching for. Abruptly she was running. She hurtled across the uneven deck and into Wing's embrace. He hugged her back and time passed while they stood together in mutual support.

Well done, he thought. We'd have flown apart but for you. (pride, joy, concern) Are you well? Both of you?

Darsey felt sudden panic. Were they? Her com sent instant reassurance and she rested her head on Wing's shoulder. She let him share her relief, but he was already running his own scan. "See," she whispered, "baby's fine."

"Indeed- wait."

"Wait? What do you mean wait?" Darsey pushed back in his arms to see the image hovering over his com. It was grainy and strangely colored, as if seen through fronds, but still clear enough. She leaned closer to check and gulped in shock.

"I'll find a medic," Wing promised, but she held him close so he couldn't leave.

"No, it's fine." Darsey sent reassurance, but her husband's mind was too distraught to listen.

"Our babe's been cut in half. The cells are just two balls-"

"Wing. It's okay. It's twins."

His mouth snapped shut, but he still looked panicked.

"Twins," she repeated more slowly. "You know, two babies."

Wing frowned and stopped trying to pull away, turning back to hold Darsey very gently. "I'm sure we'll have more children in the future, but we can still help this baby."

"We don't need to. Listen to me and look at the scan. It shows two very tiny, perfectly healthy babies."

This time Wing pulled away to study her more closely. "You think this is some sort of multiple birth? Like an animal?" Darsey sent a frond snap at the suggestion her babies were animals and Wing winced, but didn't back down. "Only non-sentient creatures have multiple young."

"Not only. It happens to humans a lot. My father was a twin. He had a sister, carried and born at the same time. And that's what we have. Twins."

Darsey felt the beginning of belief from Wing and let him hold her again. "Twins?" he whispered. "It's true? It must be if you've got a name for it."

"Sure and triplets for three. Four at once are quads and five quintuplets. Then-"

Wing pulled away again. "Wait. You're jesting with me. You must be. Four? Five? How's that even possible?"

Darsey chuckled at her husband's shock. "I probably shouldn't mention octuplets yet." She slid her arms around his waist and snuggled close.

"Eight?" Wing asked of her hair. "Do you mean eight at a time? Is that going to happen to us?"

It was Darsey's turn to go into shock. "I certainly hope not."

A soft frond touch and a hand on her back told her that Clear had joined them. Darsey pulled back from Wing's embrace just enough to free an arm and pull her friend close. Free was still attached to his wife and completed the circle. They stood together in the comfort of a single hug.

Darsey closed her eyes again and shared her friends' relief. They stood in silence for some time, until the faint ping of hot metal was joined by a mellow whistle. It was followed by another and then a trill of birdsong.

Darsey looked up as the sounds from outside were joined by a sweet breeze that cleared away the acrid tang of burning. High above a silhouette crossed the gash in the ceiling, something small and quick with fluttering wings and she felt Wing's delight. "This planet feels perfect for kres. I'm just sorry you're so far from home, love. We'll get you to Earth as soon as we can."

"No," Darsey murmured staring at the creamy sky, "that's alright. I mean we need to go back, but not for me. The truth is, I'm already home."

55

Sunset

Sparrow pushed his way through waist deep grass and past stems of tiny flowers that rose to his chest. A cloud of cloying perfume rose around him, while midges darted through it. The sun was very low, washing the valley with gold and it was so still he could hear the sea. He stopped to catch his breath and smiled when a familiar voice snapped at him.

I told you walking was overrated.

Yet very lovely, he mused. This planet was beautifully made. It's much like our old home.

And totally unnecessary if the Devourer hadn't filled our world with blizzards.

Sparrow grimaced and took another step, startling something at his feet. A bird launched itself on crimson wings that beat against his face when it flew past. He staggered back and tripped to be swallowed by the grass. He let himself fall and lay in the deep meadow, laughing up at the sky.

Males, Grace complained. If you should drop dead too, then where would we be?

Free perhaps. You're in a bad mood, dearest.

I'm dead. And the only person who can help is rolling around in a field.

Sparrow snorted at the truth of that, before pushing himself up to a sitting position.

Please smuggle me home, Sparrow, Grace asked more sweetly. Find the pirate wench and buy us a passage.

I am trying, he pointed out, reaching into his robes to fish out the amber gem. He studied the jewel, which was still slippery with Darsey's blood and checked the absorption rate. A red stain was seeping through the crystal, carrying both organic and exotic matter with it.

"Perfect," Sparrow breathed, before enclosing it carefully in a storage field and stowing it back in his robes. My dear Grace, you do make extraordinary efforts to secure DNA.

Most funny. If you're done joking about my death, please arrange my new life.

For sure. The new leader of the BGP manoeuvred himself to his feet and started wading through the grass, following his com's prompts. He was panting again when he finally saw a nearby glint that was silver, not gold. Mermaridian hair as he'd hoped, but spread across a tangled piece of wreckage that must be debris from the ship.

Sparrow hurried forward in sudden concern, but Jileea was seated comfortably at the base of a newly formed hillock. She sprawled on a warm strip of metal, with her head thrown back and eyes closed to the sun. She was still clutching Darsey's tattered bouquet.

Sparrow slowed and stopped at her feet. "Are you well?"

Jileea opened one lazy eye. "Certain-sure," she drawled. "Not even a scrape."

"You're lucky. As lucky as our wedded couple."

"The bride, you mean," Jileea answered seriously, pressing her thumbs together when she mentioned Darsey. "And no one else has such Luck, certainly not me. Do you interrupt for a reason?"

"Ye, I want to propose a bargain with you. The BGP has made claim to a hundreth of this system and all its passages." Sparrow paused to let Jileea study the deed of ownership approved by Houses IceFlight and FeatherFlight. Her lips pursed appreciatively at the wealth the document represented.

"We also have considerable assets in the kres Empire. I'm now Leader of the Bureau... excuse me." Sparrow's face twisted with unexpected grief and he had to pause to steady his voice. "As Leader, I wish to barter for use of your ship."

Jileea raised a hand to stop the old kres before he could make his offer. "I'll not act against Darsey in any deal. If she wishes first use of my ship, she shall have it."

Sparrow raised his brows, but his voice was gentle and a soothing frond touch washed over the mermaridian without her being aware of it. "Indeed, indeed. Of course, absolutely. I too will do as the lady wishes. However, my offer will fit her desires full well and in exchange I'll trade a tenth of our share in this system."

Gray eyes locked with Sparrow's and Jileea's lips twisted with renewed interest. "A tenth of your share? What do you need in return for such riches?"

"I ask you to return to Gratuity, with my Lady Grace's body and some wreckage from this ship. Claim you found them in a deserted system that links to kres owned passages. It will seem the Grace was trying to flee home when sabotaged. Offer the wrecked ship parts for sale."

Jileea studied Sparrow warily. "Uh-huh. Why?"

"The Arck will hear what you offer. He will buy it and then pay more to confirm that the corpse is Lady Grace. He'll believe his traitor succeeded and that all are dead. Then his wretched hunt will finally end."

Jileea accepted his explanation, but lifted a little finger in query. "It'll be drakking dangerous to deceive the Arck. What's my cut of the wreckage sale?" she asked bluntly, and Sparrow hid a satisfied smile.

"All you can make."

"A hundred percent? Plus ten percent of BGP holdings in this system?"

"Ye," the kres agreed, before raising his palm to indicate conditions, "but you must also smuggle me home to kres space, the Flare system. Once there I can contact loyal kres, who will hold our secret safe and help me gather colonists. They will then need a ride back here."

The pirate smiled with grudging admiration. "You barter well for an old kres, and offer huge temptation, but my condition remains. I'll do naught to cross Darsey."

Grace's amused observation slipped from the jewel and into Sparrow's mind. The human must be the pirate's new fortune nexus.

"A talisman?" he asked automatically, and Jileea jumped upright to tower over Sparrow.

"Tssss." She brushed one index finger across another toward the careless kres. "Don't announce such. I'll do as you ask, if Darsey says ye." Jileea turned without further comment and stalked away, striding back toward the wreck.

Sparrow watched her go and then slumped to perch on a ragged mound of earth. We're headed home, Glam. Whatever price is needed I'll see it paid. I swear to get you safe to the resurrection chamber before your jewel cracks.

He studied his lined hands, waiting for her answer, but there was no reply and the shock of that hit him hard. It was normal for the energy of her gem to freeze in place, so that her memories were held safe in a crystalline matrix, but never so soon.

This jewel is nearly depleted. Grace's mental touch was faint and much slower than usual. Each word seemed to take an age to appear in his mind. Its energy matrix is virtually gone and it will hold no more lives.

I'm sad to hear that, love. Also scared.

But not surprised?

My jewel failed after my last transfer. It shattered. This is my final body and when old Sparrow dies, I'll truly be gone. He hummed quietly while he studied the sky. The voice in his head was gone again and he wondered, with another pang, whether this time Grace had finally been silenced.

How could you not say?

Sparrow started and then looked around to check if anyone else wandering from the ship had noticed.

Relax, chick. They'll just think you infirm and aged is all. Why did you not tell me all your lives were spent?

However, Sparrow made no effort to answer his leader in words. He sent a brief flash of his love for her, his determination not to pressure or scare her, before waving her question impatiently aside, to ask one of his own. What if the Culling comes too late and we're gone? Every person in this galaxy will die too.

I know, the old lady's mind snapped back with a last touch of life. Take me home and pray we live long enough. If the Devourer plays coy, we'll have to draw him in while we still survive. You're right, we can't afford to fail again. This will be our last chance. Everyone's last chance.

Sparrow sighed but made no effort to rise. He sat back to enjoy the sunset instead and then the sound of laughter, followed by music from the ruined Grace. After all, today was a wedding day and the war would wait. It always did.

Read on for a sample of Book Two in The Iron Altar series.

Frostbite – Chapter One

Darsey IceFlight lay very still and let consciousness return. Her head ached and her tongue was surely too large for her mouth, but she ignored them. She was lying flat on her back and it was already throbbing. Heat prickled under her eyelids, while her lashes grew annoyingly damp. Damn all hormones. She was too pregnant to be knocked out and dragged... where?

Darsey breathed deeply, pushing down fear and self-pity. She relaxed, then carefully tested the energy field that seemed to be restraining her. It was unyielding. Her eyes flew open and she tried to move again, struggling with all her strength this time, but with no more success than before. She was held as hard as a fly in amber. Panic grew again and it took an unexpected effort to force it back. Darsey belatedly realized she was not only weak from being knocked out, but also suffering from com–loss. She strained to lift her head and failed. All she could do was turn it slightly, then roll her eyes from side to side in an effort to find out where she was. What she saw was no comfort at all.

A steel roof was met by plain steel walls. She was lying in a metal box so brightly light it must surely be a laboratory. Her best friend Clearwing, lay on a medfield beside her, looking equally helpless. The kres stared back from huge eyes. Eyes as dark as pits.

"Any idea where we are?" Darsey whispered, but her companion simply kept staring. Her belly, as distended by pregnancy as Darsey's, rippled when the baby moved. "Clear, look at me. I mean properly. Try some blinking and a bit of that focus thing. It works wonders and as soon as you can see we'll get out of here."

"Oh," Clear answered faintly and managed a very slow blink. "How?"

"You tell me. I can see half-a-dozen consoles and plenty of high-tech equipment. Scalpels too and bottles of embalmed- actually, perhaps you shouldn't look. I'll tell you what we've got. The main console is gentik with an interface I can feel from here. Together we can do this. It's not like we haven't been in trouble before. Being married to cousins who were both on a tyrant's Things To Dispose Of list definitely wasn't good for our health."

Or our babies' health, she thought before she could stop herself and Clear whimpered in response, her fronds twitching at the bleak contact. Darsey quickly sent mental comfort, but was interrupted by approaching footfalls, which drew a desperate squeak from her friend.

"Darse, I'm sorry. This is my fault. I never should have brought you to visit this Maker. In truth, it wasn't to see what our children will look like when grown. I really wanted to know how he makes his post-natal predictions. I'm so sor-"

The distant hum of a security scan silenced Clear, but Darsey ignored it. "It's okay, I get it. Curiosity and the cat etcetera. I know you can't resist finding out how things work, but we need your mind now, clear and calm, so just breath deep and listen close while I talk to our host."

The scan finished its check and the footsteps resumed. More than one set of footsteps Darsey realized, counting hard in an effort to distract herself from growing dread. Two people? Yes, definitely. Two pairs of feet struck slightly out of time. One stride seemed to be slower, but must have been longer, because it grew louder more quickly. It soon covered the sharper strike of high heels. A male and a female most likely. Darsey managed to tilt her head further to the left, to gain a better view as their captors approached.

The first to come into sight was a mermaridian male in Harvester livery. Darsey was unsurprised. Being kidnapped by slavers was the first possibility that had occurred to her. That would simply have been a case of history repeating itself. However, a closer inspection destroyed her theory. The newcomer had kres fronds. They swayed toward her when she noticed them and then lifted in a friendly wave.

The stranger stopped beside her and cold, mismatched eyes stared down at Darsey, strangely at odds with her kidnapper's warm smile. That cherry grin lifted the sculpted hollows of his checks to collide with the planes and angles of the rest of his face. He seemed to be channelling both male model and maniac, which was disturbing, but the pity she felt from his fronds was even worse. She and Clear were in deep trouble.

Darsey wanted to smile back, insolently and without concern, but her bravado failed her. This was no ordinary Harvester. His strange fronds marked him as a Beserk, the most vicious and crazed of mermaridian warriors, but he was also familiar and she closed her eyes to dig through her memory. She found what she wanted on Gratuity, during her first visit, when she'd stupidly shadowed this warrior. His name was Nikareon, but she couldn't begin to imagine what he wanted with her. Bizarre stories of Beserk breeding needs intruded, despite her best efforts to control her thoughts.

The male laughed heartily in response, before offering a deep bow. "Hold no fear of me, Lady. I can see your uterus is already taken."

"Not for long," a voice as smooth and sweet as ch't'kar liqueur mused from behind Darsey. The unseen female laughed at her own comment and her delight was the most unsettling thing of all. Unexpectedly harsh and unrefined, her amusement ricocheted from the steel walls and bright instruments surrounding them.

The two prisoners rolled their eyes left when a second figure strolled to join the Beserk. Clear's mind instantly cringed, while her eyes closed tight, to leave Darsey staring alone at a tall and lovely mermaridian.

"I don't believe we've met," Darsey stated calmly and her kidnapper sniffed in response.

"I'm certain-sure you'll wish that was still true in a moment, but some friendships come with unexpected cost, don't they, Clearwing FeatherFlight?" Clear managed a combined gulp and whimper in response, but that was all. The mermaridian wrinkled her nose in disgust. "How you scarred me I'll never times know-" she began, but was interrupted by a tremulous appeal from her kres captive.

"Please spare my baby. I was the one who hurt you. She's innocent."

"True enough," the beauty agreed, idly running a finger across a shiny stack of instruments at Clearwing's feet, "but it's also true I don't care."

"No conscience," Nikareon observed happily.

However, the female ignored him to step forward and lean close to Clear's belly. "It's your parents I wish to pain and I've an excellent idea how." The mermaridian straightened and beckoned imperiously. There was no immediate response and she snapped her fingers impatiently.

The gesture was rewarded by another hum from the entry field and the sound of heavy boots striking the floor as one. A phalanx of Harvesters appeared, ten guards marching shoulder to shoulder, except for the first pair. They were separated by a plump figure, clothed in flowing robes that repeatedly tangled his feet while the guards dragged him forward.

Darsey recognized him at once. His cherubic face was the last memory she had, before waking up on a slab. It had beamed at her from a hologram on his waiting room wall. He was a gentik called the Maker, whose obstetric services were in huge demand on Eltok. Unfortunately, it seemed he was as much a captive as she was. He cleared his throat nervously and bowed to the two restrained prisoners.

"So sorry to keep you waiting," he apologized primly and Darsey responded with the warmest smile she could muster. "No problem. We're not in a hurry," she assured him. The Beserk chuckled happily, but Darsey ignored him. "I'm not a fan of your bedside manner though, or your hysterical staff. The blond bimbo sounds like a drugged hyena bird. Who can I complain to?"

The female mermaridian uttered a feral growl that stopped Darsey cold. The emotion behind that primitive sound made her single frond twitch. It tucked tight at the end, wanting to curl up behind her ear and block out those furious electromagnetic waves. However, she forced it straight again, trying to read deeper than that morass of anger. She sensed satisfaction at their capture, but the fury continued to swell, until it swamped all rational thought.

The mermaridian abruptly launched herself, swerving around the foot of Clear's table to leap at Darsey. Her eyes gleamed with a faint silver light and her upper lip drew back from her teeth, but before she could complete her pounce Nikareon swept her into a bear hug and spun her off her feet, away from Darsey.

"There, there, easy now," he crooned. "Be calm and remember your goals."

The female struggled in his arms and he gave her a neck-snapping shake. Her guards took a step forward at that and the Beserk rolled his eyes at them. "Be calm too, kiddies. Let the grownups sort mother's little addiction problem." The tallest guard growled in response, but was ignored. The Beserk shook his prisoner, more gently this time. "We need to act fast, most glorious bossy one, so settle and give your orders." The female stopped fighting, but several seconds passed before she could sigh and actually relax.

"That one is annoying," she stated, without looking at Darsey. "See to her first."

"As you wish," Nikareon agreed and nodded to the Maker, before carefully releasing his superior. She stepped away at once, to stride to the far wall and lean her forehead against it. He watched her carefully, until Darsey cleared her throat.

"Whoa, hang on," she ordered, glaring up at the approaching gentik doctor, who stopped in alarm. "Why are you doing this? I know we can pay you more. Seriously, take the money, because if being hurt scares you, I promise our husbands will hunt you down. They'll find you and they'll gut you. That, I really swear-"

Darsey was stopped by Nikareon, who appeared at her side in a blur of com movement, to grasp a handful of her hair and pull her head back hard. His face was grim, but his mental tone when his fronds brushed past hers was still amused. Do you wish death too, girl? Annoy her no further.

Darsey started to shake and didn't dare risk using her voice. She wasn't going to freeze though, not this time. Who's 'her'? Bring me up to speed. Please. Come on, I can see you love to annoy the mysterious 'her'.

The Beserk laughed heartily at that insight, straightening to release Darsey. "I love to annoy everyone in truth, so may I present your patron and host for this spontaneous vacation, Luck-in-waiting, High Lady Lamidia farLamideon. She will be ably assisted during your stay by bus boy, waiter and general dogsbody, Dr. DisRaya also called the Maker. Entertainment, charm and occasional violence will be provided by myself, Beserk Leader Nikareon, while the scenery is played by our delightfully wooden Harvesters. Are we now at speed, Lady Darsey?"

Unfortunately Darsey vividly remembered Clear's tale about shooting Lamidia and Nikareon's fronds caught that recognition. "Excellent. No need for more delay then."

The gentik was still hovering beyond Clear, where he had retreated and he made an unhappy noise. He stepped closer to the kres's med field, ignoring Darsey to start making minute adjustments to his equipment.

Lamidia finally finished her calming meditation and pushed away from the wall. Her mind now burned with impatience and the knowledge that she was running out of time. Darsey's hope leapt at that revealing slip and she glanced across at her friend. She tried to share her plan to delay as much as possible, but Clear's fronds had curled tight behind her ears like a pair of creamy, spiral seashells.

Lamidia strode to the gentik's side and Darsey's despair returned. She felt her body and mind trying to shut down in panic. She gasped for air, her chest pushing against the restraint field with growing need. Her head began to spin and something swelled in her heart. The pain in her chest felt alien, but carried with it an instinctive urge. She had a sudden overwhelming need for her husband. She had to call to him. Right now.

WING, she screamed silently and even Clear's furled fronds twitched, while Nikareon staggered and fell to a knee. He hissed and gave Darsey a warning glare, but she closed her eyes and put all of her terror for her twin boys into her frond. She was about to lose more of her family and she knew she wasn't strong enough to deal with that. Not again. NIGHTWING.

Nikareon pushed himself upright and leapt to Darsey's side, but she was exhausted and quiet. Something wet tickled her neck as it ran down from behind her ear. She closed her eyes to concentrate on her ragged breathing, wondering whether she had really felt her love's mind, or if that fleeting touch had simply been wishful thinking.

She risked a peek at her enemies and the Beserk was pacing across the lab. He turned back to Lamidia and his eyes shone bright enough to light up the room. "We needs must go. Now. Five minutes at most."

Lamidia's mouth twisted, marring her beauty, while she stood undecided. She stepped forward abruptly, to stop at Clear's feet with her hands on her hips and her fingers drumming impatiently. "This gat first then. Irradiation I think. Can you do it quick?"

"None such," the Maker protested unhappily. "To destroy fertility is counter to all I do, lady.'

Lamidia's face tightened further into angry lines, but Nikareon stepped forward before she could act. "Blah, blah, carp, carp," he sneered at the doctor. "I'll do the necessary, gentik. You work on our other guest as instructed." Nikareon moved to stand over Clear and offered her a reassuring smile and a wink. "Time to play doctor."

Clear's brow furrowed, while the friendly Beserk positioned an irradiator above her. She looked across to Darse for help, reassurance... anything, but it was Darsey's turn to stare blankly back.

Nikareon glanced between the two of them and although his expression was amused his fronds leaked bitter cynicism into the prisoners' minds. A pity that kres are most fond of their chicks. Children make easy targets.

 Love Struck

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Haze is a man on a mission. It was never his plan to be a gladiator, but plans change. When Harvesters steal his wife he tracks them down. It takes a year, all the money he has and most of his soul, but Silk is worth it. When he finds her she's a slave, fighting for her life in the worst arena in space. His search is over, but his problems are just beginning.

Haze has to face gigantic killers hardened by battle, feral beasts trained to stalk gladiators, weaponized weather and the most dangerous enemy of all \- his wife.

Silk is a deadly fighter, so it's too bad she doesn't remember him...

Memory stripped and struggling to survive she has no interest in Haze. The idiot claiming to be her husband is just another target. One more body standing between her and freedom, but not for long. She'll take down anything and anyone she has to.

Can Haze live long enough to win Silk's love? Unlikely. It's the end of the season and this is the last fight. They're about to enter the Carnival of Death, which leaves only a single survivor. Today one of them will die...

One Love. One Arena. One Day.

Thank you so much for reading our book. If you'd like to learn more about us, please visit our website at

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We're writing as fast as we can and having lots of fun with the various dimensions of the Realms, which we hope you enjoy too. If you want to make any comments or requests we'd love to hear from you.

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Many thanks,

Emma Casey and Shelley Lea.

