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her a shirt. There’s no crime in that.” His eyes widened. “Is there?”
    A weary sigh came from above. “If anyone cares to consult my superior skill and knowledge, Miss Shrovenach is indeed her stated chronological age, plus four point five months, and is precisely one hundred forty-eight centimeters in height. Shall I give you her weight as well?”
    “No!” Kim knew she was undersized. She didn’t need Onca’s computer to tell her that the little birdwoman outweighed her.
    “And providing her with food and clothing is not a crime on this or any other world,” Captain continued. “With the possible exception of Zutera.”
    Roncas let out a cry like a bird of prey about to strike.
    “Now, now,” Onca said, echoing Roncas’s earlier admonition. “Let’s not get pissed off at the computer.”
    “Why not?” the Zuteran shot back. “You fuss about him all the time.”
    “It is impolite to refer to any sentient being in the third person when he or she is present in the room,” Captain intoned.
    “Sentient being?” Roncas echoed. “You think of yourself as sentient ?”
    “Although mechanical, I am possessed of senses and am conscious. Therefore, I am sentient.”
    Onca put up a hand, shaking his head. “Don’t argue with him, Roncas. Trust me, you can’t win.”
    Kim was beginning to believe she’d fallen in with a pair of lunatics who argued with computers and made a habit of handing out free food and clothing to street urchins. Of course, if that were true, she and her compatriots would have known about it and taken advantage of the service long ago. She still didn’t trust him—or Roncas—enough to give Jatki the all-clear signal. Not yet, anyway.
    Having shot a scathing glance at the ceiling, Roncas held out a bundle of clothing. “Here, Kim. These will probably fit you, that is, if they don’t fall off. I must say, I’ve never seen a child so thin before.”
    Kim gritted her teeth. “I am not a child!”
    “I believe we’ve established that.” Onca nodded toward what she assumed was his bedroom. “Why don’t you go try those on? If they don’t fit, I’ll take you shopping.”
    “Shopping? You mean with money?”
    Onca stared at her as though she had sprouted wings. “Uh, yeah. I wasn’t planning to steal anything for you.”
    Of course he meant with money. He’d probably never had to steal in his life—and he certainly wouldn’t need to start now. Not when he could afford a computer-controlled house like this one. Without further comment, she took the clothes from Roncas and left the room.
    As nice as the kitchen was—no matter what Onca thought, in her eyes, it was palatial—his bedroom could have belonged to a king. High-ceilinged and with a carpet so soft she might have been walking barefoot on a cloud, the walls were an iridescent greenish blue that changed color with every move she made. Multicolored ivy with huge heart-shaped leaves grew up the wall from an urn sitting in a corner, making a circuit of the room where the walls met the ceiling. The far wall was covered with the image of a deep green forest so lifelike that birds actually flitted from branch to branch and a waterfall cascaded from a crevice high up on a rocky cliff face. The round bed was set on a low dais with a gauzy drapery suspended above it that was studded with lights that twinkled like tiny stars.
    Now that she had eaten, exhaustion overcame her wary nature, and at that moment, fucking Onca for the privilege of sleeping in his bed didn’t seem like such a hardship.
    He promised he wouldn’t do that.
    She glanced at her bare feet. They were filthy—and so was the rest of her. She couldn’t climb into that bed without taking a bath first.
    For as long as she could remember, her only baths involved sneaking down to the shore for a swim in the ocean. Soap and fresh, clean water were amenities she hadn’t had since the murder of her family.
    A footstep drew her attention as Onca stopped just