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Chapter 6


The small scratch on her neck stung a little when she touched it, reminding her of how his lips had felt against her skin. He’d scattered her wits to the nine winds with that kiss, leaving her dizzy and gasping for air and it would have been the perfect time to tell him she was a girl. He’d left so abruptly because he still thought she was a boy, but if she had found her voice and told him the truth, what then? Would he have swung her into his arms, taken her back to his cabin and made love to her? Despite her gut-reaction to the kiss, was she really ready for that?

Her answer to the question would have been a resounding yes, had he asked her at the time. Her mind had been so full of the feel of him and the new sensations hitting her one after the other she’d have been his for the taking. If he’d asked she’d have followed him to the end of the universe and back because, in the cradle of his arms, her will had completely abandoned her.

She should be grateful, she thought making her way back to the safety of the rec room. He could so easily have taken advantage of her, yet he hadn’t and for that, she thanked him. Whether it was merely the gender issue, or some more gentlemanly motive she didn’t know. What she did know was that she was an innocent with no frame of reference other than what she’d read in her romantic novels. She wasn’t so naïve as to think they reflected real life, but even in those stories the heroines didn’t usually fall into bed with the first desirable man they met. And neither should she, no matter how attracted to him she was.

Chewie was in the rec room when she entered. Buffonia managed a somewhat absent smile for him, glad of the distraction as he growled a greeting.

“I wish I could speak Wookie,” she told him, with genuine regret that she couldn’t communicate properly with him.

Chewie growled then pointed to the bottle he’d been drinking from. He growled again and repeated the action.

“Is that the name of the drink in Wookie?”

More growling and this time he pushed the bottle at her.

“You want to share?” she said eyeing it dubiously. The sludgy, brown liquid didn’t look very appetising, but since it would have been rude to refuse the offer Buffonia accepted it from him, wiped off the neck with her sleeve and took a small sip. It was sweet and sticky and not at all as unpleasant as she’d imagined. Chewie made a sound suspiciously like a laugh and encouraged her to drink some more. She took another deep draught, then sat down on the bench.

“Have you known William a long time?”

Chewie took the bottle from her and nodded.

“And you own the Millennium Bug together?”

Chewie shook his head and made a sound approximating the word Spike.

“So Spike owns the ship?”

The Wookie nodded vigorously and passed across the bottle. Buffonia took a few more sips, feeling herself relaxing as the warm liquid slid down her throat. A sudden mellow feeling flooded over her and she sighed and leaned back against the seat. Heat spread throughout her body right to the tips of her fingers and toes and she looked at the bottle in amazement.

Chewie had a definite grin on his face now, and also a multi-coloured halo starting to form around his head. Buffonia squinted and the halo twinkled and sparkled.

“How do you do that?” She patted the top of her head, then burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. “You’ve got a rainbow on your head.”

Chewie slapped his sides and did the Wookie laughing again. Then he split into two and floated in and out of her vision. Buffonia shook her head. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, rather more disorientating than anything. She screwed up her eyes until the images merged once more and reached her arm out to the bottle. After several attempts she made contact with it then proceeded to pour it over her face and shirt because for some reason she couldn’t seem to co ordinate her hand and mouth. Eventually she managed another drink and felt Chewie’s large, hairy paw carefully taking the bottle back.

By this time he was in near-hysterics at her reaction to the drink and she could see him out of the corner of her eye, chortling with glee as he got her ridiculously drunk. Or whatever was happening to her. She’d been slightly tipsy a few times before, but never had anything hit her so hard, so fast.

“What’s in that?” she said wiping herself down and gesturing wildly at the bottle. When Chewie told her she repeated his growls back to him and this sent him off into more hysterical, Wookie laughter. Lifting a finger she started to count the stars that were popping up in front of her eyes, but she lost count after twenty and gave up. And the memory of the kiss came back to her as she started to feel herself float away. “What’s his real name, Chewie?” she asked. “Spike or William?”

The answer sounded more like Spike than William. Buffonia grabbed the edge of the seat as the ceiling suddenly swooped towards her. “So he’s pretending to be William to fool Jamsin? Oops, I mean Jamsine.”

Obviously he was. Chewie agreed with his usual vigorous nodding then leaned over to the computer monitor and growled at the console. The screen flickered to life and Buffonia pushed herself up onto one elbow. Someone who looked very much like William, only with shorter, fairer hair appeared on the screen. She managed to get herself upright taking hold of Chewie’s arm to steady herself and stared at the picture on the monitor.

From what she could make out it was Spike’s flight permit. The picture was a typical mug-shot across which were written a few details which, try as she might, she couldn’t get into focus. The hair suited him though. Gods did it suit him, she thought tracing her finger around his image. But would she be around long enough to see it grow back like this? When she looked up Chewie was gazing at her thoughtfully so she moved her hand away from the screen and replaced the wistful look with a jolly smile. Chewie continued to frown, helping her back to the bench and when she pointed to the bottle, he held up his paw as if to indicate that she’d had enough.

“You’re right, Chewie.” She covered her eyes with her forearm and thought she perhaps ought to get herself back to the galley and have something to eat, which had been her original intention, rather than lying there half-drunk and fantasising about Spike with hair the colour of a blinding sun. It was just as well she’d met him as William and with her disguised as a boy. That had been bad enough, but if he’d been Spike she knew she’d probably be a lost cause by now. Or merely a statistic in a long line of his conquests. A guy like that had to have a track record, didn’t he? She couldn’t be alone in this reaction to him?

The com-link crackled and she listened to Chewie’s animated growling punctuated by Spike’s gravely tones. He had a deep, rich voice, just a little rough around the edges and laced with an accent she’d never heard before. A sexy voice, undoubtedly and one he’d used to devastating effect in the galley. She’d all but dissolved in his arms when he’d whispered in her ear and it struck her that he had to know the effect he was having on her. Or him, Buff the boy.

Heck, this was confusing, and not just because she was drunk. She heard Spike asking Chewie to go up front and keep an eye on things from the flight – deck and she tried to untangle the threads of what had happened to her so far. In her innocence she’d already imagined the happily ever after. Infatuation had a way of doing that to you. And Spike was undoubtedly a loveable rogue, which was why she’d been so drawn to him. Didn’t he fulfil all her expectations? Weren’t all the best heroes just that little bit bad, ridiculously good-looking, sexy and persuasive? Didn’t they dazzle poor, inexperienced creatures like her with their very presence, so that all they could see was the man of their dreams?

Somewhere along the line she’d lost the plot and it seemed she’d run away from one soap opera straight into another. But what did she do about it?

Remember that she wanted to be in charge of her own destiny and that choices were still hers to make. She should be acting upon, rather than simply reacting to what fate decided to toss her. A soft, silky paw patted her head and Buffonia moved her arm and gave Chewie a tremulous smile. The effects of the drink were wearing off somewhat and he didn’t have the halo any more, but the room was still gently swinging from side to side. Chewie looked a little sheepish now, as if he realised he shouldn’t have encouraged her to get drunk so she patted his arm in return to show there were no hard feelings.

“I’m fine Chewie.” She sighed and waved him away. “Think I’ll just lie here until I get my legs back – that stuff packs quite a wallop.”

Chewie’s paw touched her shoulder, pointing to it and growling, as if he was asking her if it was better now.

“You were just looking out for Spike. And he fixed it, see?” Buffonia waved her arm, still amazed at the speed with which it had healed and Chewie made a softer sound that may, or may not have been an apology.

Something else for her list – learn to speak Wookie. She watched him move towards the door, surprisingly gracefully for one so large and thought that Spike was lucky indeed to have such a loyal partner. And how lucky she was that Chewie had taking a liking to her since he made a much better friend than enemy. It made her feel safe to know that both he and Spike would fight for her if the need arose, and it brought home to her how alone she was going to be when they parted company.

The thought made her shiver.

It was in her hands. If she really was going to be mistress of her own destiny, then what happened next depended on her. Buffonia didn’t stop to think that plans made when very drunk on Wookie home-brew weren’t possibly the best of plans. All she knew was that the time had come for her to decide whether she was going to run from life, or rush towards it, arms outstretched and embrace everything it had to offer.

She started on the buttons of her shirt, her drunken state making her actions seem completely reasonable. Spike needed to know she was a girl, not some boy who melted into a puddle of hot wax every time Spike looked at him with those amazingly penetrating blue eyes of his. Buffonia stopped for a couple of deep breaths. Eyes that held her prisoner with their unspoken demands and made her want to cry when they softened with concern. And when they smouldered with desire? What would she do then?

Buffonia shook herself, gathered her wits then tentatively stood. The room spun a couple of times then came to rest with everything in its rightful place. Spike’s face still looked at her from the computer monitor and she took a moment to sigh and allow her heart a little flutter. As long as she kept control, where was the harm in that?

There was a strange mixture of devil and angel in him. Something that drew her irresistibly to him, yet cautioned her to run away as fast as she could. The angel was in his hair and in his eyes, but his smile was pure wolf-man. Yes, she thought feeling the familiar tingling low in her belly, if the devil could smile he’d do it just like Spike.

The last button of her shirt fell open and she pulled it off, dropped it onto the floor and rummaged in her bag for a fresh one. The events of the last day had left her feeling lost and helpless, but it was time to remember who she really was and who she wanted to be. And what she wanted. Sauntering unsteadily over to the image reflector, she stared intently.

The wig. It flew onto the bench and her own blonde locks tumbled over her shoulders. Now she looked like a crazy-woman, but at least the gender was correct. A quick combing didn’t do much to tame the mad tangle and her cheeks glowed both in anticipation of her plan and the drink, the effects of which were starting to wear off in earnest now, and taking her courage with it.

So she slipped into the shirt, leaving the buttons undone, but pulling it loosely together with her hands, took a deep breath and marched towards the door. Time for the big reveal, because if she didn’t do this now, she never would.

-------------------------------

Decisions, decisions. Darth Angel stood on the balcony watching the new recruits filing into the great hall to take the oath. Vampirians were an exceptionally fine-looking race, and after twenty vectors of training school the young soldiers now parading before him were at the peak of their condition. Honed to perfect fitness, lean and toned, but without the cynicism and battle scars of experience. Fit and young and just that little bit innocent – exactly how Darth liked them.

First row, third from the right. Darth made a mental note. Not too tall, and with beautifully coiffed blond hair, the young Vampirian stood to perfect attention, eyes forward, blaster in hand. And Darth couldn’t decide whether he liked them in, or out of uniform. Well, out of uniform ultimately, of course, but there was something about Imperial armour that sent shivers down his spine.

“May I suggest number 5927, Empress? He has Praetorian Guard written all over him.”

The Empress moved to the window. “First row, third from the right?”

“That’s the one. What do you think?”

“A bit young, maybe, but I trust your judgement, Darth.” She looked up at his towering, black-clad form. “I must have the prettiest personal bodyguard in the whole galaxy.”

“Without a doubt, oh Dark one.” Darth turned back to his contemplation of the troops.

“Some say too pretty.” The Empress ran a finger along Darth’s sleeve. “I swear they’ve been stealing my hair products. Does my butt look big in this cloak?”

Darth smiled to himself and took a step to the right. “They’ll get the job done, don’t worry. And I swear you’ve lost weight.”

“Do you think so?” the Empress turned around and inspected her rear end. “I must be protected at all costs, they know that, don’t they?”

Darth lifted a gloved hand and stroked the Dark Lady’s cheek. “Stop worrying about it, oh Deliciously Evil One.” He chuckled. “Let’s just say they’re well motivated.”

The Empress smiled wistfully and closed her eyes. “Oh Darth,” she said, leaning into his hand. “Isn’t the Death Star wonderful?”

“It is that, your worshipfulness.” Darth removed his hand, leaving her hovering in mid-air. “May I say the grey was inspired. They’ll never see us coming.”

The Empress snapped open her eyes, hastily patting at her hair. She gave a small laugh. “I rather think most people know about it. It is the size of a small moon, after all.”

“I was speaking figuratively,” Darth said returning his attention to the troops.

“And the Slayer,” the Empress continued. “What news of the Slayer?”

“Ahh, now there I do have good news for you,” Darth turned to the computer screen. A picture of a very similar young blond man to the one he’d just been eyeing flickered onto it.

The Empress stared moodily. “And that is?”

“Spike,” Darth said with a flourish. “And this is his ship, the Millennium Bug.”

“And you’re showing me this, because?” she turned, inspected her nails then tapped them sharply against the polished ledge.

“Runs with a side-kick. A Wookie who goes by the name of Chewackybacky. Buffonia’s hitched herself a ride with them.”

“A Wookie?” The Empress clutched at Darth’s cloak, scanning the room with desperate eyes. “You know I can’t stand Wookies. Nasty, smelly, hairy things. Are they here?”

Darth carefully extracted her hands and smoothed out his cloak. “Never fear, oh Distinguished One. He won’t come anywhere near you. Straight to the mines with that one.”

“When you catch them? I’m assuming they’re still at large.”

“Well yes.” Darth moved away from the window and flicked a switch. Spike’s face appeared on the much larger, wall monitor. “When we catch them. Which, given the size of the reward and the speed at which they're travelling, will be soon,” he added.

“Be sure it is,” the Empress snapped. Time is running out.”

Darth Angel turned to her. “Do you now what a sitting duck is?”

The Empress shrugged.

“It’s the Millennium Bug, with no light speed.”

“No light speed?”

“No.”

“That’s worthy of evil laughter, if anything ever was.”

“Thought you’d never ask, Empress.”

Evil laughter isn’t just the sound it makes. Darth watched with satisfaction the startled faces of the new recruits as the laughter reverberated around the chamber. An evil laugh was the trademark of a super-villain, and he and the Empress were masters at it. Finally they wiped their eyes and settled back to the matter in hand.

“So, this Chewacky will go to the mines. The Slayer will give me her heart. And what of this Spike? What will we do with him?”

Darth raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you leave Spike to me, Highness.” He turned back to the screen, a small smile on his lips. “I’m sure I’ll find an opening for him.”

----------------------------------------------

The Klum-Fei weren’t playing ball. Spike desperately wanted to go see if Buffonia was alright, but didn’t dare move away from the computer screen in case the Klum-Fei big-wigs decided to make an appearance. And he still couldn’t believe he’d nearly bitten her. What the hell was he thinking? Two short sunrises and between Jasmine and Buffonia his life had well and truly turned upside-down. And he’d only just got it upright again after Dru. The screen crackled and there was a short blast of music. Spike quickly smoothed back his hair and sat up straight. He was doing this for all of them. Then he’d go see Buffonia and tell her he knew her secret.

Three large, horned creatures appeared on the screen.

“I give you greeting.” Spike touched his head in the formal salute and the Klum Fei did the same.

“As we do to you,” they chorused back to him. The middle of the trio leaned forward. “So, you’re available?”

“At the right price.” Spike’s voice held a carefully balanced edge – part deference, part arrogance. The Klum Fei demanded the first, but greatly respected the latter.

“What are you looking for?”

Spike tried not to appear too hopeful. “Something small, something fast. I can only spare two sunrises.”

The delegation bent their heads together and Spike heard muttering. Finally the spokesman looked up. “Security level?”

Spike shrugged. “No problem. You know me, the higher the better.”

“Sending now. Confirm receipt.” The Klum Fei punched a button and the screen split in two. Spike just about managed to stop his jaw dropping at their offer. Extremely valuable, highly illegal, but guaranteeing him a good return if he could carry it off. For a moment he hesitated, mindful of his young passenger and of what would happen to all of them if they were caught with Blue Ortega in the hold. The train of thought was quickly followed by a picture of Jasmine in a wedding dress.

“Received,” he said confirming the deal. “Transmit pick-up point and destination.”

They duly did, and he swallowed again. Too near to Vampiria and its tendency for slapping young men like him into the army, for his liking, but needs must. Risky as it was, him and Chewie had done worse. His mind ran through the logistics. A quick in and out. Supply the ship at the pick-up point, get Chewie to deliver the cargo, since they weren’t likely to want a Wookie in the Vampirian army, then see about picking up another hyperdrive board.

A knock at his door distracted him momentarily. The Klum Fei frowned collectively.

“It’s nothing,” Spike told them fervently hoping it wasn’t Buffonia. But then, who else could it be? Chewie certainly wasn’t stupid enough to interrupt a meeting with the three monsters now staring coldly at him from the computer screen.
“Remuneration?” Spike asked trying to ignore it.

The third member of the trio opened his mouth, but whatever he said was drowned out by more knocking. Spike turned his head, knowing it was terribly insulting to the Klum Fei to do so, but not wanting them to think he was shouting at them. “Not now,” he said as the knocking got louder. “Really, not now.”

“Then I’m coming in.”

It was Buffonia. His door sensor was on manual over-ride, which was why it hadn’t opened automatically, but he hadn’t remembered to lock it.

“No, don’t do that.” Spike shouted at the door, then turned back to the three grim faces staring at him out of the computer. Blue Ortega was so rare as to be almost non-existent and Spike had spent five long years building a reputation as a smuggler who could be trusted to get the job done. The Klum Fei didn’t look happy at all at this deviation from standard procedure. He stood, but had only taken two steps towards the door before it opened.

“Spike, I need to tell you something.” Buffonia marched across the room, and it really was Buffonia this time, because now, instead of the black, spiky hair a cascade of blonde tresses tumbled and danced over her shoulders and back. Her eye-lids were smudged with a shimmering blue and her lips were moist and red. Almost as red as her cheeks.

Spike stood rooted to the spot as she advanced towards him. She’d called him by his real name and although he guessed what she was about to say, and desperately wanted to hear it, it was the worst possible time to be having this conversation. His mouth opened twice, but no sound came out and behind him he could hear the Klum Fei huffing and grunting with indignation and gathering themselves to leave.

“I,” he started, but that was all he managed before her hand slapped unceremoniously over his mouth and stopped him.

“No, Spike. I have something to tell you, and it won’t wait.” She pushed him once, catching him off-balance and causing him to trip backwards against his desk. Then his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realised what she was about to do.

“I am a woman,” she declared grandly and whipped aside her top. “See?”

Everyone froze. Except the Klum Fei, who were now hastily seating themselves again.

Spike’s mouth fell open and stayed open, and Buffonia’s hands went determinedly to the front clasp of her lacy bra. Before he could stop her she’d flicked it open.

“And I’m proud of it, Spike.”

She had beautiful breasts. Exactly how he’d imagined them and to his horror, his gums started to tingle.

“Did you hear me Spike? I’m proud of it.” He voice was a little slurred as she emphasised her words then her eyes fell onto the computer screen and the very appreciative audience plastered across it. Still holding open her top her gaze flicked from them to him while he continued his desperate struggle to stay in human face. She looked at the screen again and her eyes grew wider than man-in-the-moon- marigolds. The Klum Fei burst into a round of spontaneous humming and started drumming their hands on the table.

“And you’re obviously…er…very busy.” She snapped her shirt closed and turned back to him, her voice tailing off. “Umm,” she said, the colour draining from her cheeks. “Catch you later, yeah?”

With one hand holding her top and the other clamped over her mouth, Buffonia ran from the room, her exit punctuated by a rowdy round of applause from the Klum Fei and a cross between a growl and a squeak from Spike. It was the only sound he was capable of and for a few agonising moments all he could do was listen to the appreciative whoops of the Klum Fei and thank the Gods he’d managed to avoid going into game-face.

The Klum Fei spokesman was smiling broadly now. “Excellent, Spike. Excellent. The entertainment was most appreciated.” He turned to his companions who nodded their vigorous agreement.

“Glad you liked it.” Spike gathered his scattered wits and faced the screen.

“Yes, yes we did. You never fail to surprise. And we like her. Is she for sale?”

Spike lifted his hand. “No, she’s a paying passenger, not cargo.”

The Klum Fei grunted and his face fell. “Hmm, pity. Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” Spike spoke as firmly as he could get away with, not liking the turn the conversation was taking.

“We could be most generous.”

As with most of the gangster mobs, the Klum Fei traded in exotic species amongst which were counted beautiful women. Spike almost wanted to laugh at the irony of his situation. Yet again someone offering money, which he desperately needed, for the last thing in the galaxy he was willing to sell. Buffonia would easily command the price of a new hyperdrive board, and if he pushed it, probably pay off his debt with Jasmine too. Ironic indeed.

“I’d like to help you.” Spike shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Fetch her back, we will ask her ourselves.”

It was a strange thing that women sometimes sold themselves into slavery. A well-negotiated deal, and they were set up for life. Some found it a good exchange for the small thing called freedom.

“Perhaps we could conclude our business first?” Spike couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice and the Klum Fei, thankfully applied himself to the matter in hand. Spike knew full well why the remuneration figure was so generous.

“I’ll talk to her,” he told them and waited for the greeting that would conclude the meeting.

“You do that.” It was a command not a request. The Klum Fei touched his head and Spike returned the gesture. Shit, he thought as the screen went blank. Just what Buffonia needed. A bunch of horny Klum Fei lusting after her. He snapped open the intercom.

“Did you get all that, Chewie?”

“Good, what’s our ETA?”

“Right, let’s turn this round as fast as we can.”

The last bit? Get us on course and I’ll tell you later. Think I need go talk to her.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Physically Buffonia felt a lot better after throwing up in the galley sink. Mentally she was as horribly embarrassed as she’d ever been. How this had ever been a good idea was beyond her. And how was she ever going to look Spike in the eye again without dying of shame?

When she returned to the rec room the empty bottle of whatever Chewie had plied her with was still on the floor. Buffonia kicked it under the seat because just looking at it was making her stomach do back flips. She sat at the computer, rested her chin on her hands and gazed at Spike’s face, scanning the information on what was indeed his flight permit.

Buffonia ran her finger across the screen. He was a natural blond, the blue eyes she already knew. Height? Just right as far as she was concerned. Age? She frowned at the figures, but knew enough that they were all relative. A quick check of his metabolic age made him not a lot older than she was. And place of birth? Vampiria.

Vampiria?

She sat up. Spike was a Vampirian? She looked again. Yes, even though she was still having trouble focusing, it definitely said Vampiria. He was a member of the race who were threatening civilisation as they knew it? The mortal enemy of her people? The reason she was being married off to that prat, Sleepwalker?

No, he couldn’t be. But then, yes, of course he was. Cool skin, ridiculously attractive. Adventurer, opportunist. What else could he be? She’d bet her last credit he hardly had a heartbeat. And when had she seen him breathe?

Slayers. The one thing she’d found out about Slayers was they were supposed to kill Vampirians. In the old days, anyway. She wasn’t at all sure what the role of a modern Slayer was, but maybe it accounted for the tingling feeling she now realised was the result of the two of them coming into close proximity. Some sort of residual instinct from the days when Slayers were chosen to specifically hunt down and rid the galaxy of Vampirians.

That was a long while ago, back in times considered pre-historic. Vampirians were now fully integrated and accepted into society. At least they had been until they’d got delusions of grandeur and decided they wanted to be in charge.

Vampirians could also move silently as ghosts and it was the tingle that alerted her to Spike’s presence, followed by the sound of his voice whispering her real name, which he’d heard the Jedi use back at the Bronze. So long ago. Or was it just yesterday?

“Oh.” She shuddered and he slid onto the bench beside her nodding at the screen.

“So you know then?”

“You’re a Vampirian?”

“Yeah. Does it matter?”

Buffonia lifted her knees and circled then with her arms. “I don’t think so. You can’t all be bad, right?”

“Oh, I’m bad alright.” Spike winked and stuck his tongue between his teeth, making it hard to tell if he was joking, or not.

“But you don’t want to take over the galaxy, or invade Summeria?”

“Nope. United States of Spike, that’s me. Don’t have a lot in common with the home planet these days.”

“Me neither.” Buffonia found herself staring at the centre of his chest and noticing that he didn’t appear to breathe. She, on the other hand was having trouble getting air into her lungs as she remembered the kiss in the galley, and what she’d just done. Spike reached over and took her hand, and for a moment she stopped breathing altogether. He flattened it over his heart.

“Does beat,” he explained, “but really really slowly. And I can hear yours from here.”

Buffonia swallowed hard. No good trying to get it to slow down, it never was going to around him. He dropped her hand and tilted his head.

“So, you’re a girl, eh?”

His grin told her he hadn’t forgotten her little exhibition and she hid her face in her knees. “Oh no, I’m so embarrassed,” she mumbled.

“And more than a little bit drunk?” he enquired. When she peeked through her fingers she saw him holding up Chewie’s bottle. “I’ll murder him,” he said cheerfully. Thinks it’s so funny to do this. Are you okay?”

Buffonia twisted so her cheek was resting on her knees, only too aware of the heat in her face. “Coming back to normal, I think. Spike, I never would have otherwise, you know, in there…”

“ ‘S’okay, Sweetheart.” She felt his hand sifting through a lock of her hair, which he lifted and gazed at in fascination as it fell through his fingers. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Thought I’d be safer out in the Galaxy as a boy.” She gave a small laugh at that. “Fine time to discover half the Galaxy’s suddenly decided to turn gay.”

Spike coughed and dropped his voice a few notches. “Of course, I knew.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Okay, I suspected something was up, because…”

“It’s alright, Spike. I’m sure on some level you must have known, otherwise you wouldn’t have…”

“Right, I must have, because I don’t normally, you know…”

“Spike, I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah, I think we do.”

---------------------------------

We lay our plans and set our course, but how are we ever to know what fate has in store for us until we can see the whole picture?

Gallantly, the Millennium Bug cut a path through space completely unaware of the attention it was attracting. And none of it good. Bounty hunter Wood traced his finger over the screen, watching the blip that was the Bug flashing its way across in a determined, straight line. His Millennium Bug. For a moment he closed his fists so tightly his knuckles appeared white against his rich chocolate-coloured skin.

Designed by his Amazon mother, the craft had been their life-line and Wood remembered with perfect clarity the happy days of his youth when they’d plied her back and forth across the trade lanes offering luxury transport to paying customers. Life had been good, and Wood had been fully prepared to follow in his mother’s footsteps and continue with his nomadic, but relatively uncomplicated life. Until that day five earth-years ago.

A whole life can sometimes turn on something as small as half a credit. Look away for a few, short moments and when you look back, everything has changed.

He still saw it to this day, in his nightmares and in his waking dreams. The horrified crowd falling silently back as he approached, revealing the grim spectacle of his mother, lying cold and stiff, her chest a blackened, mess of charred tissue. The birthday present he’d bought for her dropping from his lifeless fingers. The crushed-silk scarf had hovered for a moment then fluttered away in the breeze, and with it had gone his life.

Every night she called to him from beyond the grave for revenge, and he hadn’t let her down. They told him five Vampirians had stolen the ship. Youngsters, probably intent on a joy-ride, or just in it for a quick credit. Four of them were now dead and there remained just one more task before Wood considered his duty done.

The last of the five had been particularly elusive, but now, with the help of the Jedi, Wood knew exactly where he was. And this was going to be particularly sweet. The ID had been changed such that Wood would never have found the Bug without the help of the Watcher and now that he had, all he wanted to do was send it and its accursed occupants straight to hell. But there was another on board, an innocent who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and who’d done nothing to deserve Spike’s fate. The Watcher had been adamant she was to be spared and, in return, had supplied details of how Wood could exact the maximum revenge, and make a handsome profit into the bargain.

A creature called Jasmine was shortly about to offer a substantial reward for Mr Spike, and, with the help of the force, Wood was the only bounty hunter in a position to make a pre-emptive strike. A move which, if the Jedi was correct, would condemn Spike to a living hell, right here on the mortal plane. And finally end Wood’s relentless search for the man who’d robbed him of his mother.

Tbc…





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