by Casey Lea
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 wid
e 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.