Nikolai Kingsley

Vekam, Adonai!

There was a salt flat that stretched out from the jagged edge of what was once a seaside cliff, down to where the waterline now rested before gathering its strength for its daily tidal assault. Near the base of the cliff rested a sub-orbital shuttle. Three sets of footprints led from the shuttle's hatch to a bank of greenery that hugged the edges of a creek that, having successfully carved a notch in the cliff, was content to dribble into the ocean and supply fresh water to the patch of Pthalklin Tarmidinae which marked the end of the trail of footprints.

A man wearing unremarkable grey business coveralls stood about two metres from the waving strip of sawtoothed fronds, his arms folded, a machine pistol in one hand. He was staring impassively at the girl who was entangled in the Pthalklin Tseredinae, vines which co-existed with the 'tarmidinae, trapping large land animals that came to forage for seed- pods. She was twisted over backwards in an uncomfortable position, next to a tightly woven bundle of vines that represented the third member of their business consortium. This third person, not quite dead yet, gave an occasional muffled moan. The girl, however, was very much alive and still struggling, albeit uselessly, as the 'tseredinae vines slowly tightened.

She managed to catch his eye. "You bastard," she managed, "Why don't you just shoot me and get it over with? Jeren was right; you are a sadist."

He smiled. "Oh no ... not me ... I'm sure that you can appreciate the necessity of all this, both of you. It's common knowledge that orbiters are too heavily monitored by the insurance company to allow this sort of accident while on-board, otherwise you would have both gone out of the airlock as soon as we left Fer." He turned and strolled a few metres up-stream, as if to get a better view of her predicament. "Whereas, out here, practically on the Frontier, well ... all kinds of unusual and, yes, well, unexpected things happen, with surprising frequency." He resumed his original position. "... and of course, bodies will be required to authenticate my story ... preferably, bodies without bullet-holes in them. That sort of thing can introduce elements of, well, suspicion, into what would otherwise be an uncomplicated matter. Anyway, I don't believe that I will stick around ... despite Jeren's obviously biased opinions, I prefer to view this sort of thing in the comfort of a civilised city, preferably on one of the more developed Resource Complex Worlds ... Copperla, for example ... ahhh, a lovely place ..."

He turned and made his way back to the shuttle. After a few minutes, he emerged again, crossed back to the Pthalklin thicket and peered into the tangled foliage. She managed a wry smile at this. He asked, "Okay. where are the ignition keys?"

She grinned. "In my back pocket. Care to reach back and get them?" He stood there for a few minutes, chin resting on his hand in thought. He poked at the thicket with a dead branch, which was quickly snapped from his grasp by the 'tseredinae. Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable clinking sound of a set of keys falling to the ground. He clenched and unclenched his fist in barely controlled impatience, as he spotted them, lying almost directly underneath her. He glanced up, as if expecting another shuttle from the orbiter at any minute. He looked back at the keys, and almost moaned in frustration. He decided to risk it. On his knees, he edged forward, centimetre by centimetre, moving with almost glacial slowness, to avoid disturbing the 'tseredinae's infra-red differential sensors. Further and further over he leaned, finally reaching the keys, overbalancing slightly, resting his weight on three outspread fingers. He held his breath ... the plant hadn't noticed. He had them.

Then she rolled over and sat on his forearm.

His stance collapsed, and dropped him face-first into the base of the thicket. The vines whipped around his head, neck and shoulders, and only by hunching up did he avoid immediate strangulation. The vines crossed and recrossed down his arms, trapping his arms to his side, just as he thought to bring his gun up. She laughed as he shot his foot, and as he opened his mouth to scream in pain, a vine shot down his throat and buried itself in his gut.

"I knew you didn't really want to break up this consortium!" she chuckled.

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