The Great Galactic Score!

37

37

Demi gripped that long, safe deposit box as though her life depended upon it. In a way, it did, if she ever wanted to have a life. In that box, assuming Friss wasn't lying, was the solution to all Demi's problems. Soon, she would be able to use it to clear her name. Wipe any references to any misdeeds, real, framed and wrongfully accused. She could return to a quiet life and she wouldn't miss the misadventures with Friss, Lap, Briyun, Bognrd and Lodka. Not in the slightest.

Not even a little bit.

He was lying, though. Even as they all dived through the air lock on to Lodka, Demi stopped. The wall of Lodka regrew, cutting off the bank and the Apistakker bankers and all those riches and technologies squirrelled away from the galaxy and Demi stood, looking at the box in her hands. He was lying. Of course he was lying. It was Friss! The box probably contained something worthless to her.

"No lollygagging! Emergency beach shorts and shirts in the locker to the left. No! Wait!" With his own box tucked under his arm, swinging his Killtromatic rifle from his shoulder, Friss punched the wall in dramatic fashion. "The locker to the right! Always to the right! Quick! Don't forget the Water Plus cooling mist. That's in the locker to the left!"

They needed the cooling mist. Demi had noticed as soon as they passed the threshold to Lodka. It was, to put it mildly, stifling hot. So hot that the Gal-Navy sweatshirt Demi wore had already become soaked in sweat. While the others sloughed their regular clothes off, replacing them with beach wear that a unicorn vomiting rainbows would feel were far too colourful, Demi reached out a hand to the nearest wall.

She ripped her hand from the surface, hissing at the pain. Lodka wasn't only hot, she was burning up. The strain of keeping them stable within the black hole, utilising technology not meant for her, was causing the ship to overheat, badly. Like a fever that threatened to melt Lodka into a puddle of goo, ready for the gravitational forces inside the black hole to pull it apart. Demi couldn't help but feel some responsibility for that.

Regardless, she changed into the beach wear, trying not to gag at the explosion of colours that now decorated her, grabbed a really big bottle of Water Plus cooling mist, and rushed on through the ship. She needed to reach Zapasnoy to see whether Briyun had, in fact, taken herself to the medical bay to check for bugs.

"Not pregnant? Nice?" For some reason, Briyun had stripped naked for the scan and stood there, eight breasts and tail on show, looking at the results. "I mean, I haven't had sex in, ooh, three years? But it's always nice to be sure? And, no, no bugs? Happy now?"

"Then if it's not you and it's not me, and it's not Bognrd, Lap or Friss, then how do people keep finding us?" Looking anywhere but at Briyun, Demi held out the beach wear for her to get dressed. Briyun seemed in no rush. "There must be something!"

"Well, I tell you what, Demo? As soon as we get back to normal space, I'll ask, okay?" Briyun took the clothing, eventually, slinging them over her shoulder as she turned to leave Zapasnoy's medical bay. "I'm sure at least one of my followers will know?"

Demi nodded as though she understood what Briyun meant, but she didn't. That wasn't the first time she had mentioned followers and the other times she had mentioned them had made as little sense as this time. Demi had followers, all those weird people shouting 'Via la revulsion' for reasons known only to themselves. She had never seen such people stalking Briyun.

"When you say 'followers', what, exactly, do you mean?" When Briyun told Demi, realisation hit her like a small moon out for vengeance against her for blowing up its only family.

As soon as they reached the bridge of Lodka, Demi knew this was probably going to end in bloodshed. She had shifted between not saying anything and hoping it would all simply go away, to wanting to tell everybody, including the forces awaiting them, that she had nothing to do with it. Upon reaching the bridge, however, she knew she and Briyun had to come clean. Tensions were high. Beach wear wet and sticky with sweat, apart from Bognrd, who looked magnificent in flip-flops and a rather fetching pastel coloured sarong, muscles gleaming with sweat. They all stared at the flap of skin view screen.