David Garnet - Bikini Planet

As they turned corners, went up and down inclines, the width and height of the corridors kept altering, and the passageways were even more restricted by protruding tubes and cables. Fluid bubbled from leaking pipes, hissing as it trickled down the walls and dripped to the ground. Panels of light pulsed on and off at random, while others glowed eerily.

It was like being in an abandoned mine shaft fitted with old auto parts, engines and dynamos, pumps and filters, worn out but still fitfully running.

“Major,” said Norton. “Major!”

Diana glanced back. “That’s me, I almost forgot. I’ve been working undercover. A secret agent.” She laughed.

Norton wondered if Colonel Travis was also on board, masquerading as the ship’s captain.

The morning after the old man had entertained her with tea and cakes, Kiru found out his name.

“Boss.”

“Boss?” she said.

“Either ‘boss’ or ‘the boss’,” said the one called Aqa, who was human but not Terran.

Aqa was a lot younger than the boss, and much better looking than Grawl. He was also younger than Grawl and better looking than the boss, she supposed. The old man wasn’t very memorable. Even a minute after he was gone, it was difficult to remember what he looked like.

Kiru had no such problem with Aqa, and it was evident he was also very interested in her appearance.

“Why are you on Arazon?” he asked. “What did you do?”

She told him.

“Bad luck.”

“Bad luck is all I’ve ever had,” she said.

“Maybe your luck’s changed.” Aqa gestured up to the alien sun. “That could be your lucky star, Kiru. You’re lucky you landed here.”

“Why? Because you’re here?”

“And that,” he said, nodding. “Clink has been a prison planet for generations, which means whole generations have been born here. A life sentence lasts far more than a lifetime. No prisoners are ever released, and neither are their descendants. They’re all kept in quarantine from the rest of the universe. No advanced technology is allowed, not even very much unadvanced technology. They don’t like the way they’re treated, and they don’t like new convicts. They usually kill them. That means they’re murderers, I suppose, so it’s only right to keep them as prisoners.”

“How many people did you kill?”

“I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Why are you here? Another miscarriage of justice?”

“I’m here because of my parents.”

“That’s why we’re all here.”

“I went into the family business.”

“Which is?”

“They were space pirates. It’s good work. You get to see the galaxy, steal from interesting aliens. I was on the fast track for management promotion, my prospects were terrific.”

“What happened?”

“There was a raid. But we were the ones who were raided. Those who survived ended up here. The boss, me, some others.”

“Grawl?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the pendant he wears around his neck?”

“It must be valuable, or he wouldn’t have smuggled it down here. Four or five of the others tried to persuade him to show them what was inside.”

“And did they?”

“They didn’t say. They couldn’t say. Grawl tore out their tongues.”

“So they couldn’t speak?”

“He also tore out their throats and ripped them apart with his bare hands. So they couldn’t do anything.”

Kiru noticed that whenever Grawl was nearby, Aqa wasn’t.

Because of the technological embargo, Arazon was a primitive world. The most sophisticated weapon was a crossbow. The boss had bluffed Kiru with a gun which didn’t work, and he’d used the same principle to carve out his own slice of the prison colony.

He had arrived on Arazon with nothing, and had cheated and robbed his way back to the top. Once, he’d captured luxury space liners; here, he expropriated farms and plantations. Everyone who lived within his domain worked for him, and that included Kiru.

But Grawl was almost always there, making sure her tasks were never too risky, too hard, too long. Usually by assigning someone else to do them. It was as if he didn’t want her to do anything.

With any other male, she’d have assumed that was because he was saving her for something. Or only one thing.

There was another exception: the boss. He was obviously far too old to be interested in sex. Even when Kiru was naked, he hadn’t recognised she was female.

She hated to think of old people being naked. Even worse was two naked old people. That was disgusting. Sex should be forbidden for anyone older than, say, twenty-five. There ought to be a law. Although not here, she supposed. Arazon was a planet of criminals, a world beyond the law.

Grawl was the first man Kiru had ever known who didn’t want her for her body, which was wonderful.

Aqa, however, did want her for her body, which was even more wonderful.

Judging by the size of her cabin, Diana must have been the captain. It was a stateroom, a complete luxury suite with facilities Wayne Norton had never imagined. There was no need for a gravity switch when she wanted to lie down. Her bed was three times the size of Norton’s cabin.

“You’ll be safe here,” she said, as she treated his finger. “Or safer.”

“Why wasn’t I here from the beginning?”

“Strategic reasons, John.”

“Why are you calling me ‘John’?”

“Because I know your name isn’t Julius.”

“Shouldn’t you call me ‘Sergeant’?”

“Like when you called me ‘Major’?”

“Yeah. And do I call you… er… ‘sir’?”

“Call me what you want.”

“Can I call you ‘Diana’?”

“That’s the name I told you. Would you prefer me to have another?”

Norton shrugged.

“You’re not John Wayne,” said Diana.

“I am.”

“And you’re not Julius Winston. In our line of work, names and identities are the fastest things to change. Even faster than biofixing a finger.”

The tip of Norton’s finger was still missing, but there was no sign of any injury. His index finger now had no nail and was half an inch shorter than before.

“It’s as if it was always like that,” he said in amazement.

“It’ll grow back. Unless you start shooting again.”

“But how did I shoot? And what did I shoot? Is there an ammo clip in my wrist?”

“You shot because you needed to. An instinctive reaction. The DDD seems to have worked well, even if it wasn’t non-lethal.”

“Why shouldn’t it have worked?”

“Experimental gadgets sometimes go wrong.”

“Experimental?” Norton stared at his hand. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Life is dangerous.”

“Yeah, but why make it more dangerous?”

“What’s life without risk?”

“Longer.”

“Hasn’t yours been long enough?”

Norton glanced at Diana and saw she was smiling.

“You want a coffee?” she asked.

He hadn’t had a cup of coffee for three hundred years, and he wondered if this was a trick question.

“You told me I couldn’t have one,” he said. “And you even reminded me I couldn’t have one.”

“That was when you were a passenger,” said Diana. “That was when you were alive.”

“Which means…?”

“The Sham wanted you dead, so let’s pretend you’re dead. There’s a corpse in your cabin, so it could be you.”

“But it’s an alien corpse. It doesn’t look human.”

Norton tried to remember how it did look, but without much success. That must have been another disguise technique of the Sham’s: it was a hideous creature which could make itself anonymous.