David Garnet - Bikini Planet

“It’s a throwing knife,” she said to Gold.

Gold threw the knife, Diana ducked, and then Gold was unarmed.

Diana turned and went for Silver, who defended herself with the black blade. Silver’s weapon had a longer reach, but Diana kept dancing out of range. Wounded by the knife buried hilt-deep in her thigh, Silver couldn’t follow through fast enough.

Gold reached for the sword she had dropped.

“No!” warned Norton, who was still sprawled on the floor, rubbing his head. He took his hand away, his right hand, and pointed his index finger at the woman.

Gold had seized the sword in her left hand. She was two yards away from Norton.

Two paces, one quick thrust, less than a second, and the sword would be in his chest.

He stared at his finger, willing it to fire.

“I surrender,” said Gold, and she dropped her blade and raised her arms.

Keeping his finger aimed, Norton stood up. As he did, his foot became entangled with the fallen table. He tripped and was down on the floor again. Gold made a break and dashed to the door.

“Get—” yelled Diana, as she twisted to avoid being disembowelled—“her!”

Norton jumped to his feet, one of which came down on a liqueur bottle, and he slipped, lost his balance, regained his footing, then started running toward the cabin door.

“Ah-ah-ah!” he yelled, as the pain shot up his leg.

He must have twisted his ankle, and he stumbled, lurching forward, almost fell again, kept upright, but had to limp toward the doorway, where he could only watch as Gold sprinted away along the passage. For an old woman, she was very light on her feet. There was no way Norton could chase after her. He couldn’t hop fast enough.

“Stop or I fire!” he shouted, pointing at her.

He knocked into something leaning against the corridor wall, which fell and nearly tripped him, and he stumbled back against the wall. When he looked down he saw a bow, its string stretched taut, and a quiver of arrows on the ground next to it.

“Shoot her!” called Diana.

He picked up the bow, took one of the arrows, notched it, drew back the string.

As a kid, he and his friends used to make their own bows and arrows from bamboo and sticks. Sometimes the sticks had been sharpened, with glued cardboard flights, and they had fired them at targets—and each other. Norton had never hit anything—or anyone.

He sighted the arrow at Gold’s vanishing back, then let fly. A moment later, she raced around a corner.

“Darn!” said Norton.

The arrow sped along the corridor. And turned the corner.

There was a distant scream.

“I’ll be darned,” he muttered.

He glanced into the cabin, where Diana had Silver backed against the wall. Picking up the quiver and slinging it over his shoulder, he took out one of the arrows and notched it into the bowstring, then hobbled along the corridor and around the corner.

Gold lay motionless on the ground. The arrow jutting from below her left shoulder blade must have pierced her heart.

“Get up,” he ordered. “Stop pretending. I know you’re not dead.”

But he knew she was.

He made his way back along the passageway toward the stateroom. Everything was silent. He peered inside the cabin.

Over on the far side lay a motionless figure. In the centre of the room was someone else, someone moving, someone with silver hair…

Norton drew back the bowstring, took aim.

“What a mess,” said Diana, as she picked up the bottles from the floor and put them back on the table. “I hate this job.”

Diana with silver hair.

Norton unnotched the arrow.

“Did you shoot her?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Didn’t I tell you passengers were the enemy?”

“Er… yeah… but…”

“Next time, listen to me. I know what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah… er… yeah… and… you know… er…”

“Is that an expression of gratitude?”

“Er…”

“I’ll assume that’s a ‘yes.’ ” She took off her silver hair and showed it to Norton. “Look, a wig! Not even a proper scalp. Was yours the same?”

“Er…”

Diana walked out of the stateroom and looked along the passageway.

“Where’s the body? Go and get it. Can’t leave a dead passenger out in the corridor, we’ll only get more complaints.”

It wasn’t a big spaceship, just a lander, which did exactly what it was designed for by landing between the lake and the boss’s villa.

This was not meant to happen, but it seemed everyone knew it would.

Except Kiru.

“What’s going on, Grawl?” she said.

There was no point in asking. Firstly, he couldn’t reply. Secondly, she already knew the answer.

It was a break-out.

“Come on, come on, come on!” yelled the boss, waving his metal stick. “All aboard the Monte Cristo! ”

He stood by the entrance to the lander. With him, encased in camouflaged body armour, was one of the ship’s crew.

Kiru watched the group of men and women vanish inside the small craft. These were the core of the boss’s regime, the ones who had been captured with him. Space pirates. About to escape, freed by an outlaw ship that had broken through the cosmic chain which kept Arazon in manacles.

“And you, Grawl!” said the boss.

Everyone else had boarded the lander.

Except Kiru.

And except Aqa, who had been away since yesterday.

Grawl gestured toward the ship. Kiru shook her head. He grabbed her wrist. It was the first time they had ever touched. She tried to hold back, but he was far too strong, and he pulled her toward the hatch.

She didn’t know whether to go with Grawl or stay with Aqa. Whatever she decided, it would be the wrong choice. That was the story of her life.

“Not her,” said the boss. “There’s no room.”

The crewman levelled his gun at Kiru. It looked real. It was real. The most powerful weapon on the whole planet.

Grawl released Kiru, then pretended he was counting down on his fingers, until only his right thumb remained. He peered all about, then shrugged a silent question.

“Yes,” said the boss, “one more, but where is he? Where’s Aqa?”

Which was what Kiru had wondered last night.

“One minute,” said the crewman, through his visor.

“Aqa!” shouted the old man, staring around.

There was no sign of movement.

“Aqa!!”

“Forty-five seconds.”

“Aqa!!!”

No one else was in sight.

Except Kiru.

Grawl jerked his thumb toward her.

“Want a ride?” asked the boss.

She looked at him, looked at Grawl, looked at the ship.

“Thirty seconds.”

“An empty berth when you happen to be around,” said the boss. “Someone up there likes you.”

It wasn’t someone up there. It was someone down here.

“Twenty seconds.”

The boss threw away his stick and stepped into the lander.

Grawl followed, then turned to look at Kiru. It was her decision.

“Ten seconds,” said the guard, as he also went on board.

Grawl winked at her. It was the first change of expression she’d seen him make. Like Kiru, he never smiled. The universe wasn’t funny. It was a serious place. Deadly serious.

He’d killed Aqa. Killed him so Kiru could take his place. He must have liked her, really liked her, to do that. Too bad about Aqa. He was okay, more than okay, but their relationship had only been physical. There were plenty more like him. Plenty more in the universe. But Grawl? Grawl was different. They had a real rapport. He was a true soulmate, and she felt they could see into each other’s hearts.

She boarded the ship and it blasted free of the prison planet, out into orbit.