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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 peopl
e 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 whateve
r 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