David Garnet - Bikini Planet

She did neither.

He lay on the bed where she’d let him fall, trying hard to stay awake. When Diana finally climbed into the far side, he stretched out his hand toward her, but it was heavy, so heavy, and she was so far, far away. Before he could reach her, sleep overwhelmed him.

Wayne Norton had been the oldest virgin on Earth. Now, it seemed, he was the oldest virgin in the universe.

“Where are we heading?” Kiru asked the boss.

It was best to speak to him because he was the one Grawl was least likely to be jealous of. And least likely to kill.

Grawl hadn’t killed Aqa for himself, she supposed. If that were the reason, he’d have wiped him out months ago. Grawl had eliminated Aqa for Kiru’s sake, which proved what a good friend he was. His concern was more than that, however, different from that. It was almost like—

Kiru tried to break her line of thought. Her father had betrayed her by committing suicide. He’d only killed himself. For himself. Whereas Grawl had killed someone else. For her.

“Would you like some refreshment, Kiru?” said the boss.

It was the first time he had used her name, she realised. He actually knew who she was.

“I’d prefer an answer.”

“Have both. You’re the only one who doesn’t know where we’re going, so I’ll tell you. Make yourself comfortable.”

They were in the boss’s cabin on board the outlaw ship. She gazed at the wall behind him, where a huge black screen sparkled with the lights from countless stars. It was an amazing sight, capturing her gaze and seeming to draw her deep within.

“Once you’ve travelled the galaxy, Kiru, no one planet can hold you. Not even Arazon. We’re back, and the whole universe is ours to pillage and plunder!”

“What about me? Am I a space pirate, too?”

“You’ve got a wonderful reference: you were on Clink. But you might not be suitable as a professional pirate. It’s a vocation, a calling. Many are called, few are chosen. It takes years to become fully qualified. There’s a very high failure rate. You’ll have to study, go on field trips, study again, do research projects, more study, pass all the exams.”

Kiru managed to look away from the screen. “What?”

“Have you heard of Hideaway?”

She shook her head.

“The most famous leisure planet in the entire universe? The greatest pleasure asteroid in the whole galaxy?”

She shook her head again. There had been very little leisure or pleasure in her life—until she became a convict.

“That’s the way it should be,” said the boss. “No one should know. Hideaway was hidden away. It was our secret headquarters. A fantastic place, unbelievable, indescribable. You’ll see what I mean when we get there.”

As she looked at the boss, Kiru wondered why she’d once thought of him as being old. Compared to herself, he was, but so were most people. He was also older than Aqa. Or older than Aqa had been. The boss was in his middle years, his hair thick and dark, his cheeks and jaw unlined. He was quite an attractive man, in fact. Why hadn’t she noticed until now?

“We’re going to Hideaway?” she said.

“Yes. It will be ours again. This time it will stay ours. And stay a secret. We have to concentrate on our core business. The miscalculation last time was to move into subsidiary activities. The start-up costs were far too great. We sacrificed most of our primary cash flow, invested too deeply in capital projects which depreciated much more rapidly than forecast. I know what you’re thinking.”

“You do?”

“That all this could be claimed as tax losses, yes? But not when all we had was a deficit. Hideaway is one of the prime real-estate sites in the galaxy. We had it. We lost it. We lost everything.”

Kiru nodded, as if understanding. “That’s why you were on Arazon?” she said.

“Indirectly. It was the end result of a series of badly judged business decisions by the previous chief executive.”

She nodded again.

“I admit,” admitted the boss, “that after our relocation to new premises, he made tremendous progress in restructuring the company for its niche market. We were poised for expansion throughout the galaxy, negotiating to franchise our reputation as brand leader. Then almost exactly the same thing happened. We lost our new headquarters as well. Would you believe it?”

Kiru shook her head.

“The company was suddenly caught up in a ruthless trade war. My predecessor became the victim of corporate raiders and suffered the ultimate cancellation of his contract. We were totally downsized, and almost the entire personnel were made redundant. Those of us efficient enough to stay out of the red were given an involuntary transfer to Arazon. Thank you, Grawl. I was telling Kiru about the hostile take-over which liquidated the organisation’s entire capital assets.”

Grawl had brought in two elaborate cocktails and a choice of savoury snacks. He paused for a moment, glancing at the boss before setting down the tray.

“When the Algolan war fleet attacked our last hideout,” the boss explained.

Kiru wished he’d said that in the first place.

“Thanks,” she said as Grawl handed her a drink.

Although everyone on the ship probably believed she and Grawl shared more than just their cabin, they were all wrong.

At first, Kiru couldn’t understand why the boss had said there was no room on board for her. It had been cramped inside the lander, but the escapees soon transferred to the parent ship when the Monte Cristo spliced into the Monte Carlo .

As the renegade craft set course across the universe, Grawl chose their quarters. There were two extra berths in the cabin, but no one claimed them.

It was only later that Kiru realised no one dared.

Wayne Norton gazed in awe around Hideaway.

The entrance hall was vast, the size of an entire Vegas casino, so big that the floor curved down toward the near horizon.

And it was full of aliens …

Most of those he saw were humanoid bipeds, but the range and variety of colours and shapes and sizes seemed limitless.

Despite their differences, these weird beings had one thing in common: They were all tourists, and they’d come to Hideaway to have a good time, to spend their money gambling and whoring and drinking—and indulging in whatever other “pleasures” existed on the artificial asteroid.

But Wayne Norton was here because he was working. He was a cop, just like in Las Vegas.

“Welcome to Hideaway, sir.”

He looked like a man, his appearance both human and male. He sounded Terran, using fluent fastspeak.

Norton wished there was an alien in the reception booth because he could have tried his slate. But that wasn’t how the Hideaway check-in system operated, where everyone was met by a member of their own race. Or apparently of their own race.

Diana had briefed him on board ship, and what Norton was faced with was an illusion. He wasn’t human. He didn’t exist. He was a computerised simulation, his familiar appearance designed to reassure visitors.

Norton felt uneasy. The only other non-human in disguise that he’d encountered had been an alien assassin. And he was the intended target.

“Everyone’s a winner on Hideaway,” continued the man—the computerised simulation of a man—“and I hope you’ll be very lucky.”

“Thanks.”

“Will you be here long, sir?”

“Probably a couple of days.”

“Just for the weekend?”

Norton nodded. He didn’t know whether it was true or not, but Diana had told him to say his visit would be very brief. All this way, countless trillions of miles, travelling for endless weeks. Just for the weekend.