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.