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Norton glanced at the tomahawk he was still holding. “Are you talking about Red Indians?”

“Yes. You said that before, back on Earth. Red Indigenes. Names change.”

“So I’ve found out.”

“Native Americans. Tribal Nations. Aboriginals. Autochthons. Amerindians. Red Indigenes. That’s what we are, Reds.”

“You mean—” Norton looked at Diana, at her Mohican haircut—“you’re the last of… you mean… you and your father… you’re both Red Indians?”

“And you,” said Diana.

Norton laughed. He took a swig from the bottle. Then he laughed again.

“You are,” Diana told him.

“You’re crazy.”

“That’s an opinion. But you’re a Red Indigene. That’s a fact. I verified it.”

“Verified?”

“You remember.”

Norton touched his lips. How could he forget?

“You’re not one hundred percent,” Diana continued, “but no one is. There have been no pure-blood braves for a long, long time.”

“Are you telling me,” said Norton, as he gripped the tomahawk tightly in his hand, “that one of my… my ancestors was a Red Indian?”

“Certainly. Where does your thick black hair come from?” Diana glanced at his head. “The hair you had when we first met.”

It was possible, he supposed. Although it was unlikely any of them had arrived on the Mayflower, both sides of his family had lived in the United States for several generations. Family legend said that some had been pioneers, heading out West on wagon trains; others had sailed around Cape Horn and reached California during the gold rush; some had fought for the Union, others for the Confederacy; some had herded cattle, others had built railroads.

All of American history ran through his veins, so who was to say there wasn’t some Red Indian blood in there?

“That big nose,” said Diana, “where did that come from?”

“I haven’t got a big nose.”

“Alright, it’s a strong nose. And the way you shot that arrow. It was instinctive; you were born to it. Like me.”

She walked across the cabin and picked up her bow, pulling back on the string, aiming at an imaginary target.

“Diana the huntress,” she said. “Goddess of the Moon. That’s me. Roman mythology.”

“What… but… what…?”

Norton shook his head, trying to dislodge the rest of his question. He had much to ask, but he felt in no condition to understand any answers. He was very tired, completely exhausted.

“What about Day Zero?” suggested Diana. “We remember the past through oral history. We remember Lost Vegas. We remember everything. We’re the only ones who do. The word ‘Redskin’ was pejorative, but we adopted it and became proud to call ourselves Reds. We were cheated out of our land, but then we took it all back.”

Norton reached for his glass. There seemed to be three of them in front of him. His hand missed them all.

“Time for bed,” said Diana.

“Very,” said Norton.

“Very what?”

“Very… fication. Do you want to… very… fy me again?”

“Not much. And I don’t think you could. Come on, it’s time to get horizontal.”

“Very… good.”

“On your feet, John.”

“I want to… to… here… stay here.”

“You must stand up before you can lie down.”

“Can lie… lie down… here.”

“Stand up. That’s an order.”

“Can’t… bad… bad leg.”

Diana hauled him to his feet and dragged him over to the bed. This was where he’d slept ever since leaving his own cabin. It was also where Diana had slept. But it was a big bed. He had one side, and she had the other.

Every night he waited and watched and wished. He’d never even seen her undress.

Norton felt totally weary, totally drunk. Maybe tonight was his chance. Diana would think he was so far gone that she’d peel off her clothes while she was in the same room. Maybe she would even help him remove his outfit.

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.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“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.”