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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 throu
gh 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