Bikini Planet Page 16

  Kiru shrugged.

  “Probably because you’re perfect, Kiru. Young, attractive, sexy. I couldn’t imagine a better victim.”

  “You say the sweetest things.”

  “You were visiting Hideaway, relaxing on vacation, and Grawl just came along and abducted you?”

  That was what she’d told James, and she wished she was better at telling lies.

  “I’m sure that must be illegal,” continued James. “Even here. Shouldn’t we report it to the authorities?”

  “No!”

  “Why not? You escaped. He’ll try it again, and the next girl might not be as lucky.”

  “He’s dangerous. He kills people.”

  “How do you know?”

  Kiru tried to think up an answer which fitted in with the rest of her story.

  Did it matter whether James believed her? He didn’t seem to care whether Kiru believed him, and his own story was far less credible than hers. Three centuries in suspended animation?

  “Because I do,” said Kiru, which sounded very feeble even to her. “Because he killed Aqa,” she added.

  “Who?”

  “Aqa. My previous lover.”

  “Previous?”

  “I’m sorry, James, but you aren’t the first man in my life. I’ve had sex before. Which is why I’m so good at it. I’ve practised. Unlike you.”

  “What do you mean?” James was no longer smiling.

  Kiru said nothing, because there was no need to explain. They both knew exactly what she meant.

  Because she’d never done it with a first-timer, it had taken a while to realise. James was clumsy and inept, although that was nothing new. Despite his enthusiasm, he was also a little shy, a bit hesitant, a fraction uncertain. By themselves, none of these meant much. Added together, they meant only one thing.

  James Bogart was a virgin.

  Or had been until an hour ago.

  “I’ve had sex before,” he said.

  “Doing it with yourself doesn’t count.”

  “But I have.”

  “I’m sure you have.”

  “No, I mean for real. I’ve had sex before. Plenty of times.”

  “It isn’t an accusation. We all have to start with someone, James, and I’m honoured to be your first. You’re a good pupil and a very fast learner.”

  “This guy, Aqa,” said James, “Grawl killed him when he abducted you?”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are. I want to know why a good-looking man like you never had sex till now.”

  “Er… you think I’m good looking?”

  “Compared to Grawl, you are.”

  James looked down from the nullbed on which they were entwined to where Kiru had dropped the gun.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “From Grawl, I told you. Why are you asking?”

  “Because I’m a cop. That’s my job. I ask questions.”

  A cop? Kiru wasn’t sure whether that was a lie or not. She glanced at the massive weapon. “Grawl probably stole it. Are you going to arrest him?”

  “For stealing the gun?”

  “If that’s more important than trying to steal my brain.”

  “This is out of my jurisdiction.” James paused. “I think. In any case, I haven’t got a gun.”

  “Take mine.”

  “I haven’t got any pants.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “I had a gun when I arrived.”

  “I had pants.”

  “But I was disarmed.” James lifted his right hand.

  “No, just disfingered. I noticed.” Kiru held his hand, kissing it where the finger had been removed. “Because that’s important to a girl.”

  “Important? What do you mean?”

  “This important,” she said, taking his left index finger, licking it, then demonstrating.

  “Oh,” he said.

  “Oh, oh, oh,” she said.

  One thing led to another, and then another, as Kiru turned James’s mental gymnastics into ones of a more physical nature. It was only when the nullbed drifted against the wall that Kiru noticed how small the room really was.

  Hideaway itself was completely spherical, and there wasn’t a straight line anywhere in the asteroid. The illusion of space in the room was created by the curvature of the walls, the floor, the ceiling, all of which merged into each other at angles that deceived the eye.

  “How did Grawl get the gun onto Hideaway?” James asked, eventually. “If I’d tried bringing in a weapon that size, I’d have been disarmed up to the elbow.”

  “He smuggled it in. He smuggled himself in. He’s a pirate.”

  “A pirate? You mean a space pirate?”

  “Is there any other kind?”

  “But they don’t exist.”

  “They do,” said Kiru. She shouldn’t have said this, admitted that she knew what Grawl was. Now that she’d started, she might as well continue. “A gang of them is attacking Hideaway.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “Shouldn’t we tell somebody?”

  “No. They’ll know. It’s too late. They’ll find out.”

  For the second time, James had stopped smiling. He was also studying her the way a cop would.

  “Who are you hiding from?” he asked.

  “Grawl.”

  “Who else?”

  “The alien doctor.”

  “Who else?”

  If James really was in the police force, she couldn’t tell him the complete truth. But if he was, he could provide the perfect alibi.

  She had arrived on Hideaway with the pirates. If their assault on the planetoid failed, she didn’t want to be arrested as being one of their number.

  But if the pirates succeeded, then she had to escape from Grawl. Either that or destroy his body before he could destroy her mind.

  “Everyone,” said Kiru. “Except you.”

  Zeep-zeep-zeep.

  “What’s that?” said James.

  “It’s the door,” said Kiru, as she quickly reached for the gun. “Did you have doors three hundred years ago? There’s someone outside.”

  “Why don’t they come in?”

  “You didn’t have doors? This is your room, James. That’s your door. People can’t come in unless you let them.”

  “You came in.”

  “I’m different.”

  “How different?”

  Zeep-zeep-zeep.

  “I open doors,” Kiru said, as she aimed the weapon at the optically stretched blank wall.

  “With a gun?”

  “No.”

  Kiru could open doors. Any door. Every door. Doors that were totally secure. Except to her. Opening doors was her talent. A talent which had landed her in a lot of trouble over the years, but which had sometimes helped her get out of danger. That was how she’d escaped from Grawl, and that was how she’d got into James’s room.

  The comscreen showed no one outside, but there was a small box lying on the ground. Kiru stood guard as the door blinked open, and James reached for the box. It was black, metallic, studded with spikes and fastened with a chain.

  He brought it back into the room. The chain was tied in a bow, almost as if the box had been gift-wrapped.

  “Could be a bomb,” said Kiru.

  “Is it a bomb?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Do we open it?”

  “How should I know?”

  James unfastened the box and carefully opened the lid. They both peered inside. It was full of slimy blue worms, squirming and writhing. He slammed it shut, but not before something dropped out. The size of a playing card, it was furry on one side, like animal hide, and there was writing on the other side.

  “What’s it say?” asked Kiru.

  “I can’t read alien.”

  “You don’t have to.” She rubbed a finger across the fur.

  “A small token of my affection,”
spoke the card. “In gratitude for your first royal performance. From an anonymous admirer.”

  “Who’s it from, James?” asked Kiru.

  “I don’t know,” he said. This was the most obvious lie of all.

  “You’re blushing.”

  “I’m not!”

  A wriggling blue shape slithered from the box and dropped out, then squirmed across the floor. James yelled and jumped away. Kiru squashed the bug with the gun barrel.

  “Must learn how to fire this,” she said, as she bent down to examine the dead worm. “Looks delicious. Want a taste?”

  “No!” James quickly tied the box shut and put it down in the furthest corner—which wasn’t very far.

  “Why not? It’s a box of chocolates.”

  “It’s not.”

  “It is if you’re an alien. Who’s sending you chocolates, James? Is there someone else in your life?”

  “No, no one.”

  “No one sent you a gift-box of worms?”

  “Er… someone… er, just someone I met earlier.”

  “This someone was an alien?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “And was this alien a she?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Because you can’t always tell with aliens.”

  “Of course she was female. Anyway, I didn’t do anything. How could I have done? With an alien!”

  James was standing in one corner of the room, as far from the metal box as possible. Kiru sat on the nullbed, which floated between him and the black box.

  “She was a princess,” he said.

  “Did she change from an alien when you kissed her?”

  “She’s a princess because she’s the daughter of an empress.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you believed her?” Kiru shook her head. “What was she like?”

  “I don’t want to think about her.”

  “Maybe not, but she’s been thinking about you. Was she pretty?”

  “No. She was ugly. With claws and sharp teeth and… and more sharp teeth.”

  “She must have been gentle with you. No sign of any cuts or bruises. But if that’s what you want, James, if that’s what you like, I can bite and scratch.” Kiru beckoned him toward the nullbed. “Come on over here.”

  He obeyed. She sank her teeth into him, dug in her nails. Not too too hard, but not too softly. They began again.

  Then the bed suddenly dropped to the ground. For a moment, Kiru thought they had exceeded its capabilities.

  “Under arrest,” whispered a voice, an inhuman voice, an alien voice.

  They were surrounded by a group of ghostly figures.

  But at least they weren’t pirates—or so Kiru hoped.

  “Where other you?” added the voice. It had no one source, each syllable seeming to come from a different direction.

  Kiru and James disentangled themselves and drew apart, gazing up at their uninvited visitors.

  “Two you?” sighed the voices. “Four limbs, no eight?”

  “Yeah,” said James. “Two of us. Humans. Two arms, two legs. Each.”

  The newcomers were no more than vague shapes, without depth or outline. There was nothing to focus on, and at first Kiru couldn’t even work out how many of them there were.

  Four guns were aimed at her and James, from four different sides. So there might have been four of the wraiths.

  “Half space pirate you,” breathed the quartet.

  “Half?” said Kiru.

  “They mean one of us,” said James.

  “Not me,” said Kiru.

  “And not me,” said James.

  “Two criminal. One criminal. All criminal. All capture. Hideaway safe. Hurrah!”

  “Who are they?” asked Kiru.

  “A security squad, I think,” said James. “Those pirates, they must all have been caught.”

  “Good,” said Kiru, narrowing her eyes as she tried to focus on one of the intruders.

  They were almost transparent, but they made the room seem even smaller.

  “You space pirate half,” came the soft accusations. “You space pirate all.”

  “I want to make a statement,” said James.

  “Number,” said the phantoms. “Twelve to one.”

  “What?”

  This was Hideaway. A world of risk, of gambling, of random chance, and so Kiru said, “Seven.”

  “Lose.”

  “I want to protest,” protested James.

  “Number.”

  Kiru said, “Nine.”

  “Lose.”

  “I demand to see my lawyer,” demanded James.

  “Number.”

  “Six,” said James, a moment before Kiru could speak.

  “Win. Who lawyer you?”

  “Er…”

  “Who lawyer you? No? Lose. Prisoners you. All leave. Now.”

  Kiru and James looked at each other.

  “We’re under arrest,” he said.

  “Seems like it,” she said.

  “They think I’m a pirate. But I’m not.”

  “Tell them, not me.”

  “It’s all a misunderstanding,” he told them. “I’m a police officer, I’m in GalactiCop.”

  “All cop. All criminal. All go.”

  “Can I have my clothes?” asked James.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I have my gun?” asked Kiru.

  “Yes. No. No gun. No clothes. No thing. Yes. One thing.”

  The black metal box floated up toward James, lifted by an invisible hand or tendril or mandible.

  “No leave Hideaway no thing,” sighed their ghostly captors. “Everyone winner Hideaway.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “You aren’t smiling now,” said Kiru.

  “What’s there to smile about?” asked Norton.

  “They haven’t killed us.”

  That was something he hadn’t thought about.

  “Yeah,” he said, and he gave a smile.

  “Yet,” added Kiru.

  Norton surrendered his smile.

  He had grown used to rooms without doors, without windows, but this one didn’t even have walls. It was spherical, so small they had to curl up to fit within its contours. They lay side by side, facing one another, hip to hip, knee to shoulder.

  It seemed hours since their ghostly captors had brought them here. The room was as bare as they were. There was only one other object within the sphere: the spiked box that Princess Janesmith had sent.

  Every now and then, the casket would rock and sway. The worms inside must have been trying to ooze free.

  Norton glanced away from the metallic box, toward Kiru, then studied their circular cell, which didn’t take long, before looking at the girl again.

  “This is for real, isn’t it?” he said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I.” Norton shrugged. “Is this an illusion?”

  Kiru looked at him, touched his chest, slid her fingers against the curve of the wall, then said, “How should I know?”

  “I mean everything. Not just an imaginary cell. Are you a simulation?”

  “Sometimes I wish I was. Are you?”

  “Who knows?” Norton examined his right hand, with its three fingers. “But I think I’m real, and so are you. I think.”

  “I’m glad to know it.”

  “So this is actually happening, here, right now, to us. You agree?”

  “I never doubted it.”

  Wayne Norton had come to Hideaway to work. Even if he didn’t know what that work was. But then Kiru had arrived and it seemed he was being forced to enjoy himself, whether he liked it or not.

  Which he did. Very much. Very, very much.

  Because she was his dream girl, specifically designed for him.

  Back in Las Vegas, if the casinos wanted to smooth over a problem with a high-roller, he would be given a free room—and a girl to go with it. Hideaway must have run a similar
system, and Norton qualified as a VIP. He couldn’t remember exactly what had happened when he’d been with Janesmith. Not that anything could have happened. Of course it hadn’t.

  But maybe because Janesmith hadn’t treated him the way she should have done, the management had provided compensation in the form of a naked redhead.

  Or perhaps they had discovered he was in GalactiCop. It was always good policy to keep in with the police, which could also be why they gave him a fantasy girl who pretended she was in danger and had come to him for help.

  When Norton realised Kiru was a computerised simulation, he’d felt cheated. For a moment. By then it was too late to bother, and so he’d continued enjoying what was offered. Which was why he had been smiling. Until he’d been arrested as a space pirate.

  “Do you ever doubt the evidence of your own senses?” Norton asked.

  “If I can see it,” said Kiru, looking at him, “that’s good enough for me. And if I can touch it, that’s even better.” She leaned harder against him.

  Norton used to believe that, but not anymore. There was no such thing as objective information. It all became twisted to fit the false perspective. Everything was subjective.

  He had no way of telling what was going on.

  Perhaps he was the victim of a drug-induced hallucination. Spiked by Janesmith’s spiked teeth.

  Perhaps he was dreaming, still deep in his three-century sleep.

  Perhaps he was unconscious, stunned by Mr. Ash’s treacherous blow.

  Or perhaps he was in a spherical cell.

  If he could choose, this was his choice: He hoped he was in a cell with a beautiful nude redhead because that meant all they had done together had been real.

  As a fantasy, it had been great.

  But as reality, it was Wayne Norton who had been great.

  “You’re smiling again, James.”

  Out of habit, he’d given a false name. James Bogart sounded a lot better than Humphrey Cagney.

  “Am I?” he asked, as he kept smiling.

  “What have you got to be so happy about? Anyone would think you liked being here.”

  “I like being with you, Kiru, although I’d prefer to be somewhere else with you. This is obviously a mistake, and once I’ve been questioned they’ll let me out, and then I’ll be able to help you.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Yeah,” he said, and he did.

  “It’s a pity no one’s going to question you,” said Kiru. “For both our sakes.”

  “Of course I’ll be questioned. That’s standard procedure everywhere.”