The Pirate Guild Read online

  “Where am I on the list, Betty?”

 

  “A pity I can’t add my kills from Abeya,” Charley muttered under her breath.

 

  “Oh, nothing,” Charley said. “I need a game plan, Betty. I have no money. Which means the Pirate Guild has no capital.”

 

  “Thanks, Betty,” Charley said, flush with renewed hope.

  She had a home, a helpful AI and a clear mission - to return the Pirate Guild to its former glory. It felt wonderful to have a path in front of her. Here she was on Galveston, well on the way to becoming a pirate! Only one thing bothered her - there were no mentors around to teach her the old ways.

  “Betty, are you sure there were no active pirate locator chips on the roster?”

 

  “What does that mean?”

 

  “May I have the names?”

  “Affirmative. There is Angela Mason, former receptionist. I believe she is retired on Abla V. Connor Lebli left the Guild many years ago and his location is unknown. Vinnie Teks quit the Guild after the death of Laney Mitchell, his pirate wife.>

  Charley’s heart skipped a beat. “Vinnie Teks? Harry’s brother?”

 

  “Interesting,” Charley mused. “And Vinnie’s whereabouts?”

 

  “Thanks Betty,” Charley said, deep in thought. “You’ve been a great help.”

  As per the AI’s instructions, Charley located the dead man’s gold ring and retrieved the ceremonial dagger from the northern rooms. The deactivated gear lockers came next. The first contained a bunch of useless clothing and a Corsair watch in mint condition. Charley knew enough about the brand to know it was extremely well made and a collector’s item. She slipped it around her wrist, unsure whether to sell it or not. A girl could get used to a classy silver watch like the Corsair. The other locker had a stack of worthless documents along with a reasonably solid assault rifle. All up, a vaguely disappointing haul. Eager to make some moves on the street, Charley approached the front door and paused.

  “Betty, how do I get in and out?”

 

  “How did you do that?”

 

  “Fine,” Charley sighed, a little non-plussed that Betty was able to do that.

  Betty reminded her on the way out. Charley added the task to her mental list.

  “Stay here, FIGJAM,” she told the PalBot as she left. “I want you to begin the clean-up.”

  “Fuck you, bitchface.”

  It was good to have a home.

  23

  Charley crossed the ghetto on foot and headed east in search of a commercial hub. A gang of youths eyed her off with interest but hung back after seeing her targeting computer. At length she crossed under a busy street buzzing with land speeders. Since they didn’t have the capacity to fly, such vehicles were normally driven by the poorer castes of Danderly. Climbing over a small fence, Charley found herself approaching a neon-lit commercial hub. A central walkway ascended into a warren of kiosks, many of them catering to borgs and jackers. She found a weapons dealer down a side alley and sold the ceremonial dagger for 165 and the assault rifle for 120. The dealer also picked up the gold ring as a gift for his lover.

  “Because I’m feelin’ sentimental, I’ll give you 230,” he said.

  Charley haggled him up to 270, but once again didn’t really know if she’d been ripped off. She resolved to learn more about fence prices and luxury items. Still, the transactions netted her close to 500 credits, which allowed her to at least begin cleaning the Pirate Guild Hall. If she got lucky, she might find something that Betty had missed. Ravenous, she found a quiet kiosk run by an enthusiastic Simmarian chef. By candlelight, she feasted on roasted pheasant, marinated borsk potatoes and lightly grilled broccolini. Fresh greens were an absolute treat for her taste buds and she could feel her body thanking her. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d eaten so well, if ever. The food was washed down with a creamy, buttery local beer called Cloud Seven. The proprietor, rather charmed by the pretty blond in his kiosk, gave her a generous discount.

  Charley hit the concourse with a full belly and fresh energy. Things were definitely looking up! A light rain began to fall over Galveston as she searched for The Pearl and Spar. She wasn’t expecting a miracle, but she at least wanted to make contact with Vin Teks. Let him know there was a new player in town. Gazing up at all the towers in wonder, Charley hurried down 37th Street. She spotted a neon sign for the Pearl and Spar and headed down a dark flight of stairs.

  The place was dark, wood-paneled, smoky. A few drinkers sat at the bar looking glumly into the bottom of their glasses. Charley approached the fresh-faced barman.

  “I’m looking for Vin Teks.”

  The barman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sure. He usually drifts in around seven.”

  “When does he leave?”

  “When we kick him out.”

  Charley checked her Corsair watch - around forty-five minutes to wait. She nursed a Cloud Seven by the door. At length a swarthy figure with dark, handsome features sauntered in and climbed onto a bar stool. His manner was somber and his body language was negative. Clad in camouflage trousers and a simple white T-shirt, Charley saw a ripped, toned physique that saw ferocious hours in the gym. He also moved like a panther. A man that could kill with his bare hands if required. She also noticed a tattoo on the top of his left hand - the image looked vaguely pirate-like but she couldn’t tell from the distance. All up, a menacing, dangerous package. Charley knew instinctively that she was looking at Vin Teks.

  Heart in her mouth, she ventured over to confront that scowl.

  “Vin Teks?” she asked in a higher voice than she intended.

  “Who’s askin’?” the barfly said, barely looking at her. When he finally looked directly, his eyes lingered, just for a moment. Charley took that as a victory.

  “I have some news about your father,” she said.

  Vin’s eyes were the same almond shape as his father’s, and just as piercing. “The past has finally caught up with him, eh?”

  Charley nodded. “I think so.”

  Vin leaned over to the barman. “A bottle of Viscanti. Corner table.”

  Charley followed Vin to a more private table. He poured her a glass of rose-colored wine.

  “Here’s to my father,” he said bitterly, holding his glass aloft. “May he rot in hell.”

  Charley hesitated. This wasn’t going to plan at all.

  “I’m new to Galveston,” she ended up saying. “We’re gonna have to fill each other in.”

  Vin scowled. Charley got the distinct impression he didn’t like her very much.

  “All you need to know is that Harry was a fucking asshole,” he said with contempt.

  “Has this got anything to do with your wife?” Charley asked, taking a huge risk. Vin looked as though he might walk out at any second and she wanted every word to count. He balled his fists like he was going to hit her, then settled.

  “You know nothing about my wife,” he sneered. “But yes, Harry had a lot to do with her death.”

&nb
sp; Charley didn’t know what to say. If she prodded Vin further, he might walk. But in saying nothing she hoped she didn’t appear out of her depth. This man didn’t seem like the talking type. She could actually respect that - in her experience, talk was cheap.

  “Harry sent us out on our own,” Vin eventually offered. “Sarah and I ran Beluga without backup. That was when the Night Runners first appeared.”

  Vin’s face took on a fearsome look. His skin went bright red and he was clearly fractured with volcanic anger.

  “We were outnumbered five to one. They raped and killed my wife, but left me to return with the humiliation of what had happened. I had nothing. No ship, no honor. I was worthless. Still am. Harry knew about the Night Runners. He didn’t think they would risk attacking the all powerful pirate guild.”

  Vin laughed bitterly. “Not only did they attack, they pissed all over us. They’re still laughing at us. They took all our loot runs. Harry and Silverton let them get too strong. If they’re both dead, they fucking deserve it. The pirates are a lost cause.”

  Charley looked at Vin warily. So much anger and bitterness there. She wondered if it was the right time to be recruiting him. He clearly had a wealth of knowledge, but he seemed self-destructive.

  “I’m sorry about your wife,” she said. “What’s happened to the pirates is a tragedy. You need to mourn your father. He was a good man.”

  Charley thought about her encounter with Harry earlier that day, feeling a wave of embarrassment and regret. Already it seemed like an age ago. However much she’d enjoyed it, their tryst might’ve cost the veteran his life in the end. Vin grunted, refusing to make eye contact with Charley. Her fingers drifted to her wrist pad.

  “I’m transferring my details,” she said. “If you ever feel ready to be part of something new, I’ll be at the Guild Hall. If you don’t mind, I’d like to restore it.”

  Vin snorted. “Do what you like. A new coat of paint won’t erase the smell of failure.”

  “That’s the beauty of being new,” Charley said with a smile. “I can’t smell it.”

  And with that, Charley left Vin to drown in alcohol. There wasn’t much chance of seeing him again. It was a shame - she was in desperate need of muscle and this guy was the son of a legendary pirate. She spent the next hour buying industrial cleaning product, a self-securing steel plate and a cheap JanitorBot. Hauling a goods trolley back to the ghetto under the western concourse, she was glad to make it back to the bunker before it got too late.

  Exhausted from what had been a tumultuous day, Charley asked Betty if there was a clean space where she could sleep. The answer was a negative. Lamenting the condition of the Guild Hall, she set to work on a corner near the front entrance. She cleared several yards of garbage, dusted the concrete floor, scrubbed it clean and coated it with disinfectant for good measure. Using a discarded sack as a pillow, she asked Betty to dim the lights 90% and drifted into a doze. She heard FIGJAM whirring nearby but was happy for it to be close. Her mind was a whorl of ideas and plans as she finally drifted off to sleep.

  24

  Morning light filtered through the dusty skylights along the bunker roof.

  “Morning, sexy,” leered FIGJAM.

  “Hey, Figgy,” muttered Charley, wishing there was at least a functioning bathroom where she could relieve herself and splash a little water on her face. That was something neither Betty nor FIGJAM would be able to fix.

  “Plumber, nearest call,” said Charley into her wrist pad.

  came an electronic voice.

  Charley busied herself with a little tidying-up as she waited for the plumber to arrive. A toxic-grade skip would be needed to handle all the rubbish she was about to generate. She wondered if they charged extra for corpses. The plumber arrived and gave a low whistle when he saw the state of the Guild Hall. Fortunately, the basic plumbing infrastructure was still intact. To repair and replace all the fixtures was going to cost well over 1000 credits. Charley paid 300 in advance and told the man to get to work. Which, of course, raised the problem of cash flow. FIGJAM had run out of ideas short of Charley selling her body to the night.

  “Betty, can the Guildmasters lend money to the Nefarious Guilds?” she asked the AI.

 

  “Who posts these jobs?” Charley asked.

 

  “No wonder the pirates could do it in good conscience,” Charley observed. “They’re all evil.”

 

  “Betty, can I have a look at the Guildmasters’ job board?”

 

  A projection spurted from a data node in the ceiling and hung before Charley’s eyes. It showed all the active jobs on the board. They ranged from assassinations and vessel takeovers to full scale raids on corporate assets. Charley scrolled through the Galveston jobs with a keen eye and noticed a number were open to bids. It also appeared that the Night Runner Bandit Guild were extremely active on Danderly. She scrolled back to the top of the list. Without a ship, resources or crew, it was best to keep things simple. Her eye was drawn to the local assassination jobs. Some targets were Galvesti businessman. They were probably shady in some way and had probably gotten involved with the wrong people. Charley’s problem was that she couldn’t know for sure. These were jobs the pirates may have avoided. She wished with all her heart that Silverton or Harry were around to guide her as she worked to rebuild the Pirate Guild to its former glory. In the end, she decided to leave the assassination to the assassins. There would be plenty of people to kill, in time. She just had to be sure they deserved it first. Meanwhile, she was back to square one - no money, no means of getting anything done. She’d just dived back into the Guildmasters’ job board when Betty released a security tone.

  reported the AI.

  “Let him in, Betty,” Charley said immediately.

  As far as she was concerned, anyone with the Teks surname was welcome at the Pirate Guild. Vin sauntered in with a defiant posture. Today he was wearing a leather jacket and denim jeans. Hardly protective, but damn sexy. Charley couldn’t believe her eyes. She hadn’t dared hope that Vin would show at the Guild.

  “Good to see you,” she said, trying to sound casual.

  “Yeah, well, thought I’d run past something past you.”

  The rogue’s eyes darted to Charley’s weapons. “You look like you’re prepared to fight. That’s good. I need a partner for a job.”

  Charley’s eyes narrowed. Not exactly what she’d been expecting. “You wanna sign up as a pirate first?”

  Vin shook his head irritably. “I told you, I’m done with that shit.”

  Charley’s heart sank. “Then speak. I can’t promise anything. I have work to do here.”

  “Last week a freighter broke up off planet,” he explained. “Real bad. Some kind of internal explosion. All that’s left is a debris field. Problem is there’s toxic waste everywhere. Too dangerous for bandits or pirates. A salvage freighter is arriving to clean up in two days.”

  Charley shrugged. “So we miss out. Some big corporation gets to clean up its own mess. What’s it got to do with us?”

  “There’s a vessel in that debris field. Friend owns a long range scanner and gave me the tip. Small scout class vessel from the freighter. Completely intact.”

  Charley realized she was holding her breath. She pictured what it’d be like to own her own vessel. Being able to go anywhere she wanted, when she wanted. It was a heavenly dream …
and then she remembered who she was dealing with.

  “What’s my cut?” she asked.

  “I’ll give you 1500 credits after the job’s done.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” Charley said with a flash of anger. “You get to keep the scout.”

  Charley didn’t know how much such a scout-class ship was worth but was certain it was more than 40,000 credits. Vin shrugged, looking down his nose at Charley.

  “Take it or leave it,” he said. “Call it a finder’s fee if you like.”

  It was a rotten deal, but Charley didn’t see that she had much choice. Her plumber was bound to expect more money soon and the Guild Hall wasn’t going to repair itself. Besides, she needed to start putting real money away. She was gonna need a crew and a ship if she had a hope in hell of going up against the Night Runners.

  “What’s the risk?” she asked.

  “High,” Vin said honestly. “I’ll pay for us to be airlocked from a chartered flight within range of the field. I’m also paying for air suits and jetpacks. Both of us will be carrying a seven foot barge pole. The idea is that we turn away toxic drums that get too close while we maneuver to the scout. Leave the jacking to me. Now you see why I get to keep the ship?”

  Charley had to admit that the scoundrel was throwing a lot of cash at the operation. The air suits and jetpacks alone would sting for close to 10,000 credits. A lot to pay for such a dangerous enterprise.

  “Why are you doing this?” Charley asked.

  “Because everyone says it can’t be done,” Vin said angrily. Charley gazed at him, wondering if he had a death wish. Maybe he wanted to join his wife in the afterlife? Whatever the case, she would need to be extremely wary of him. The fact that he had come to her was alarming enough. He barely knew her. Did he not have a host of friends or acquaintances he could choose from? Why her? There were too many questions for Charley’s liking, but against all her instincts she found herself nodding.