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 finall
y 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.”<
br />
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
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