David Garnet - Bikini Planet

The alien kept watching him. Norton glanced around, looking for a topic of conversation. But there was only water, red water.

“Why is everything red?” he asked.

“I’m no expert, sir,” said the scaled tour guide, “but I believe it’s partly because of a spectral anomaly in the axial coefficient of light refraction, partly because of the very high aqueous distribution ratio, and partly because of a unique mineral oxide which is held in suspension in every drop of water on the planet.”

“Yeah,” said Norton, “that’s what I thought.”

“I couldn’t help noticing, sir…”

“Noticing what?”

“And I do hope you won’t mind if I mention the fact, sir, but…”

“Mention what?”

“I’m aware, sir, that the most considerate guest will try to fit in with the customs and habits of the planet he or she is visiting, and obviously this is what you believe your good self to be doing.”

This was a fish. There was no reason why he should have understood it, but Norton had to ask, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re not wearing any clothes, sir. We on Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf may not be very advanced by your standards, but we’re quickly becoming more civilised. May I demonstrate, sir?”

“Er… yeah, sure,” said Norton.

The alien suddenly leapt up from the water, its upper half rising above the surface for the first time. Norton had expected a fish shape. Instead, the creature had a torso and arms, two of them, each with webbed fingers. It was humanoid.

And it was wearing a bra.

It was a mermaid, Norton realised.

He watched as the creature plunged head first into the red water, arching itself over. Then its lower half flipped above the surface. Instead of a fish’s tail, the mermaid had two long, red legs with webbed feet. It was also wearing yellow briefs.

Bright yellow bra, matching briefs. This had to be the Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf version of a bikini.

The alien’s head reappeared. “It was a giant dive forward, sir, when we learned to wear clothes,” it said, or she said. “Imagine, sir, clothes to wear in the water! The sheer sophistication of a such a concept is almost overwhelming. We’re so proud, sir, that our little puddle of a planet is to be admitted to the great commonwealth of culture.”

“This puddle of yours,” said Norton, “is it a lake or an ocean?”

“It is the sea, sir, the sea of life. Without the sea there can be no life on Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf.”

“Yeah, yeah, but how far does this particular stretch of water… er… stretch?”

“It covers the world, sir.”

“The world? The whole world?”

“We have some land, sir. We’re not primitive savages.”

“I know,” said Norton, quickly. “I know. It’s just that I’d like to see this land of yours. It is dry land, isn’t it?”

“How can it be dry, sir? It rains on the land as well as the sea.”

The amber rain kept beating down, adding to the vermilion sea, and Wayne Norton tried again not to wonder how many watery leagues lay beneath him.

Although the surface was fairly calm, riding up and down on the gentle swell was making him feel queasy. His neck ached from trying to hold his face above the surface.

He gradually became aware of something different. There was a sound in the distance. Water kept washing in and out of his ears, so it was difficult to be certain. He listened.

“Do you hear that?” he said.

“Yes, sir, I do,” said the alien in the yellow bikini.

The noise was growing louder, coming closer.

“What is it?”

“It’s for you, sir.”

Norton couldn’t work out from which direction the unknown sound was coming. He raised his head as high as he could, trying to see whatever it was. The noise was like a soft wind at first, but now it was blowing louder, rising toward gale force.

“I hope my services have been satisfactory, sir,” said the alien.

“What?”

The creature raised its voice. “I hope my services have been satisfactory, sir.”

“Yeah, but—”

“It’s been a privilege to have been of assistance, sir. Thank you for honouring me with your conversation.”

A webbed hand touched its wrinkled forehead in salute, and the bikini-clad alien sank beneath the waves.

By now the wind howled all around Norton, as if he was in the eye of a storm. Then it suddenly stopped. All was silent. He turned his head and saw a boat looming directly above, about to run him down.

“Noooooo…!”

The boat went right over him. It wasn’t floating on the water, but above it, skimming the surface a foot above the waves, but only two or three inches above his face.

The craft was slowing rapidly, and for a few awful moments it seemed it was going to settle down on top of him. But the hull kept gliding above the surface and its height never dropped. Norton was in darkness, shadowed from the light, but also sheltered from the rain.

Finally, it passed completely over him and started to drift away. More of a raft than a boat, its hull rippled like the waves it rode above. It was red, of course, pale red. About fifteen feet long, half that across.

With someone on board, someone standing near the edge, someone with a lethal weapon aimed directly at him.

The someone with the gun had red hair. But this was a different kind of red from all those he’d seen on this planet, as if it belonged to another spectrum, to another world.

A different kind of red. And a different kind of shape.

Human shape. Female shape.

“Kiru!” said Norton.

“Who are you?” demanded Kiru, looking down from the skimmer, her gun aimed at him.

Floating on his back in the water a few metres away, he looked like James, but looks weren’t everything. Appearances could be very deceptive.

“It’s me,” said James, or maybe John. John Wayne, that was the name he’d told Eliot Ness. (Or the name that Eliot Ness had told Kiru he’d told him.) “You know who I am. You must remember.”

“Who are you?” she repeated. “What’s your real name?”

“It’s James,” he said. “You know that, Kiru.”

“You’re not called John Wayne?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been called John Wayne?”

“No.” He hesitated, staring at the weapon pointing down at him. “Yes. But how do you know?”

“What’s your real name? Is it James?”

“Yes.” He kept looking at her gun. “No. My name is Wayne Norton. Really. It is. Honest.”

Whatever he was called didn’t matter. His true identity was far more important than his name, and Kiru had to be certain who he was.

“Where did we meet?” she asked.

“On Hideaway,” said Wayne, or John, or James.

“How did we meet?”

“You came into my room.”

“What was I wearing?”

“Nothing.”

“What was I carrying?”

“A gun.” He forced a laugh. “It was almost like this, wasn’t it? I was naked then, I am now. You had a gun then, and you have one now. The only difference is, you’re not naked. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you with anything on, Kiru. I almost didn’t recognise you.” He forced another laugh.

Caphmiaultrelvossmuaf was warm, but it was wet. Despite the canopy over the skimmer, Kiru’s bodysuit was slick with rain, and her hair was soaked.

“Then what happened?” she asked.

“You know what happened.”

“Remind me. What did we do?”

“Well… er… you know.”

“Yes, I do know. But I don’t know if you know. What did we do together?”

“I can’t talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s too… er… personal.”

“But I was there,” said Kiru. James/Wayne/John was slowly drifting away. She kept the gun aimed at him. “Tell me something only you and I know, or I’ll have to assume you’re an impostor.”