by Casey Lea
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 a
nd 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
