The Pirate Guild Page 3

  Silverton also handed over a set of throwing knives set in a chrome case. The steel was polished, light and finely balanced.

  “They’ll never let you down either,” the pirate said. “You’ll need training, no doubt.”

  Silverton looked Charley in the eye. “If you ever decide to get serious about this shit, there’s a man you can look up on Danderly. Harry Teks works at the Galactic Academy there. He can teach you some of the old ways.”

  “The Galactic Academy?” Charley repeated stupidly. “Isn’t that really expensive?”

  “Could be,” Silverton said with a shrug. “I never said you needed to enroll.”

  Ashen-faced, the pirate fell back against the bonnet. Charley stepped forward but was waved away.

  “Keep the pellet rack, the blasters, the sword and the throwing knives,” Silverton gasped. “The last thing you might need is this.”

  The pirate produced a tattered headset with a green, holographic display.

  “It’s a targeting computer,” Silverton explained. “It’s seen better days but might serve you well if you try and escape that town. Especially if you have no skills.”

  Charley raised her eyebrows at that, but it was true. A pair of great blasters were useless to her without targeting assistance. Pedro’s men would cut her down in seconds. So she tried the headset on and played with the targeting display. It registered Silverton as a potential threat, listing his predicted age, weight and possible weapons.

  “Nice,” she breathed.

  “Careful not to focus too much on that display,” Silverton warned. “You still need to keep an eye on the real world.”

  Charley nodded, deactivating the headset for now.

  “And finally,” Silverton gasped, sounding more hoarse than ever, “here’s the most valuable thing I own.”

  Silverton handed Charley a hand drawn map. That’s right - hand drawn on parchment. Charley took the tattered, brittle paper with a bemused smile.

  “What the fuck?

  “Yeah, I know,” Silverton said through his pain. “Pirates learn not to trust modern technology a great deal. X marks the spot, girl.”

  Sure enough, an X was marked in the Meridian valley of the Dusty Mountains.

  “Cave,” Silverton said. “Hard to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”

  And with that, the pirate collapsed. Charley helped him to his feet, but blood was already dribbling from his mouth. He smelled terrible. Charley pocketed the treasure map and laid the old man against the speeder.

  “So …” he wheezed. “Do you think you might … make the call?”

  It was a moment before Charley realized what Silverton was on about. He was asking if she was interested in becoming a pirate.

  “Maybe,” she said, more to humor a dying man than anything else.

  Silverton smiled.

  “That would be somethin’,” he gasped. “I never had a daughter …”

  Silverton’s eyes stared lifelessly at her. Stifling a sob, Charley closed the lids over. That was the end of the pirate. Charley looked around her, wondering if all this was just a lurid dream. The never-ending salt pan was quiet save for a gathering breeze and the distant hum of a garbage barge.

  6

  Everything had happened so quickly. One moment Charley was fearing for her life, the next she’d been given a quest by the most unlikely of characters. She climbed into the speeder, marveling at the soft upholstery. There were two ten-credit tubes in the glove box. She kissed them lovingly - they would tide her over for now. Her first unsavory task was to strip the corpse. She took Silverton’s belt and holsters, sliding the blasters in and tucking the heavy saber through the leather. Unskilled as she was, she at least felt badass with all the weaponry. The throwing knives she pocketed along with the pellet rack. She’d need to find a proper utility suit if she was gonna organize all these items effectively. Of course, there were no gear stores in Sandflower Downs. She’d need to assault the garbage compound dressed in nothing but a linen shift. Fucking madness.

  Feeling slightly encumbered by her new gear, Charley took one last swig from Silverton’s canteen and began her trek back to town. Refreshed and filled with renewed hope, she tackled the salt pan with confidence. It was amazing what a little direction could do. She felt like she could take on the world. The day had begun in the most horrible way but it had taken a turn for the strange and wonderful. Charley was sorry for Silverton, but at the end of the day she barely knew him. Most importantly, he’d given her fresh purpose and perhaps even a career aspiration. She would do what he suggested and steal Pedro’s speeder. There was no way she could sell any of her new gear without it. Zeba was several hundred miles away and tackling the salt pans on foot was suicide. Pedro Cavar was responsible for filtering supplies throughout Sandflower Downs. The entire population was dependent on that slug of a man. It was time for a change.

  The sun beat down on Charley’s back and her mouth became parched. She was glad to be wearing Silverton’s hat as she crossed the western edge of the shanty town. Pedro’s compound hove into view to the south. A triple storey building constructed from mud brick and cable frame. Unlike other dwellings in Sandflower Downs, it was actually resistant to sand storms and other meteorological events. A cold dread gripped Charley’s heart for the first time and her confidence faltered as she appraised the enclosed property. She counted five men patrolling the perimeter, with another in a little guard tower on the north west corner. A desert monitor got too close and was turned into raspberry jam by the mounted gun on the tower. How the fuck was Charley supposed to get past that? The pistols she’d scored from Silverton were first class for short to medium range combat, but couldn’t hope to drop any of these goons from beyond 100 yards.

  Charley was gonna need to grow balls of steel and get much closer first. The guard on the tower spotted her as she approached from the salt pan. Despite the weapons she had gained, she felt ridiculous. One woman on foot against the entire compound? Yeah, right. She had a death wish. The sun had gotten to her head. Still, every time she considered turning around, she thought of the cold, frigid horrors the night would offer. There was nowhere to stay in Sandflower Downs, not even if she could pay. She had developed a reputation among the locals and no one would trust her to front up with hard cash.

  It was the compound or nothing.

  The guard in the tower wolf whistled. Charley lowered her targeting visor with a shaky hand. It duly reported two extra guards that she hadn’t seen. Great. Eight in total - a walk in the park.

  “You thinkin’ of coming closer, luscious?” the tower guard drawled. “Come ‘ere and suck my fat dick.”

  “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Charley returned, trying to sound seductive. “You talk too much.”

  The tower guard grinned and took his hands off the TT33 flak gun. That was his first mistake. The idiot frowned as Charley got closer.

  “Say, where did you get that tech from?”

  Almost underneath the tower now, Charley dropped to one knee and let the targeting computer ping the man’s face. She aimed at the orange reticule projected by the targeter and squeezed off a round from her right pistol. The guard was thrown back, a neat groove in his head. He fell over the rail and into the compound yard. Charley moved up against the outer wall and listened to the shouts of the other guards, pulse hammering in her ears. An engine roared to life. She waited patiently in the limited shade provided by the tower. Soon enough a jeep exited the compound. It was a small vehicle, barely larger than a dune buggy. Not built for the open salt pan but useful enough for traveling back and forth from the whorehouse or the general store.

  Four goons were piled into the jeep. If Charley could somehow take these guys down, there’d only be three left in the yard. Plus whoever waited in the villa. She raised her arms in surrender as the jeep approached. These cretins were probably more interested in raping her than killing her. The vehicle pulled up close. Every single thug had sexual violence in
his eyes. Charley smiled and made to remove her shift.

  “You got me, fellas,” she purred, retrieving the first pellet she could find. This one was green, whatever that meant. They were all about to find out. She tossed the thing into the back seat and watched as a yellow gas engulfed the interior. The men began gagging immediately. Charley held a hand over her nose and backed away. She felt ill as the men hung over the edge of the jeep and vomited uncontrollably. At length the cloud dispersed, carried by the midday winds. But the damage had already been done. The men clutched at their throats, clawing desperately at the toxic scum settling there. Charley dragged the flailing men from the jeep and laid them on the crusted sand. They were too incapacitated to muster any defiance.

  “I know you’re just doing your jobs,” she muttered, “but I’m an angry bitch and you’re standing in my way.”

  7

  Keen to make their deaths as clean as possible, Charley put a hole through the thugs’ chests. The pistols handled much better than she expected. The few times she’d seen someone fire a gun, the recoil had been severe. It must’ve cost Silverton a pretty penny to make modifications to these. She was curiously numb as the last thug hit the ground. Apart from being violent thugs, they’d done nothing to her directly.

  “Blame society,” she muttered as she climbed behind the jeep’s wheel.

  Charley was skidding over the salt pan in seconds, eager to hit the front gates at speed. She was pleasantly surprised to find they were still open. These jerks undoubtedly expected the jeep to return triumphantly at any moment.

  “Only one girl, after all,” Charley said bitterly as she crashed into the guard waiting at the gate. He was thrown several yards into the compound and didn’t move. She leaped from the jeep and put him out of his misery. Just in case he needed it. Using the jeep as cover, she peered over the bonnet with both pistols poised. Her targeting computer highlighted three men. Two had scrambled for cover behind a sheet of tin and a pile of wheel caps respectively, while the third peered down from the villa’s third storey balcony. That man carried a crude, home made shotgun fashioned from piping tube and rusted circuitry. Charley suspected it was only good for one round, but it was enough to remove a large chunk from the front fender.

  “You’re done, asshole,” Charley muttered as she fired at the red graticule her computer offered. The balcony guard fell back, bounced off the window and tipped over the rail to land awkwardly in the dust. The other two goons remained in cover. These guys just weren’t prepared for a heavily-armed girl from the local shanties. Charley stepped forward with confidence, knowing that a simple flanking maneuver would win her this encounter. She picked off the first thug as he tried to make for the villa entrance. The second rushed her with a pickax and was thrown back by plasma bolts from both of her pistols. The yard was clear. She checked the battery packs on her blasters - medium. More than enough juice to take care of Pedro Cavar, but it also meant that she would need to source fresh energy cells after the fight.

  An old-fashioned security door barred progress into the villa. Until now, Pedro had never had need to protect against energy attacks. Charley unleashed several bolts into the lock mechanism and turned it into scrap metal. The inner bolts themselves took a little longer. When the door had finally burned through, it swung open noiselessly. Charley took an instinctive step back and waited. That was ambush territory. No sound or movement from the living room on the ground floor. Charley moved through a stylishly decorated open plan kitchen and dining area. She’d never seen such a well appointed home. A broad-shouldered bodyguard leaped out from behind a counter and threw a knife at Charley’s head. The targeting computer saw it first and Charley fired in reflex, splitting the projected orange graticule and diverting the knife into the wall. She deflected a second knife with a second plasma blast and sent a third bolt into the man’s armored vest. The polymer melted through, but not enough for Charley’s liking. A second bolt through the man’s jaw did the trick, splattering the spotless white kitchen with dark blood.

  The patter of footsteps spun Charley around. A thug rushed her with a pool cue, striking her hard across the temple with the improvised weapon. She saw stars as she hit the ground. The targeter suggested shooting the man’s knee out. Charley obliged, splitting the graticule from point blank range. The bone splintered like a tree trunk and he went down with an anguished shriek. Charley popped him in the chest to finish him off. Adrenalin coursing through her veins, she peered up a spiral staircase. The violence was regrettable, but it was nothing she hadn’t been exposed to on the streets of Sandflower Downs. It was part of her life. That same cycle threatened to consume her unless she did something about it. She didn’t know these men very well, but they were probably on the wrong side of the spiritual ledger. Not everyone could survive on a planet without resources. Or so Charley told herself. She moved smoothly up the staircase, blasters extended. A pair of scantily clad women rushed past her. Charley had no beef with them and let them escape.

  The second storey was a garish shrine to decadence. Expensive paneling and provincial artwork. A soft, expansive futon and fully stocked bar with all manner of exotic liquor. A triple-tiered spa network for cold, tepid and steaming hot. Charley checked the huge room carefully, finding nothing but a man’s indulgences. A box of Anfar cigars. An antiquated set of blasters set in a display case. A wall-length poster of Miss Kulin, a famous porn star. A number of sex toys lay strewn across the floor. Rust-colored powder had been spilled on the white sheets. Charley had interrupted quite an orgy. Just as she was about to climb the stairs to the third level, a bulbous, pale man rose from the soapy spa water like a walrus. He brandished M33 plasma blasters - they had more range and power than the M31s Silverton had passed on to Charley. For a moment she thought she was finished, but Pedro’s blasters misfired, causing the mechanisms to rupture. The barrels exploded, sending shrapnel back into Pedro’s face and large gut.

  “I guess they ain’t waterproof,” Charley offered dryly. She’d successfully spooked Pedro into making a lethal mistake. One of the benefits of making a kamikaze run on a supposedly impregnable stronghold. Pedro grunted in agony, his face pockmarked with bloody wounds. He let go of the useless blasters, letting them sink into the water. He looked at Charley with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

  “What the fuck do you want?” he croaked.

  Charley marched over to the garbage lord, right blaster trained at his head.

  “The access codes to your speeder,” she said with forced calm.

  Pedro smiled indulgently, perhaps sensing Charley wasn’t quite as confident as she looked.

  “Young lass from the slums making a play for power,” he murmured. “Where did you get all that tech?”

  Charley refused to answer that one.

  “No matter,” Pedro said. “What matters is what I can do for you. Someone with your skills could advance quickly under me. As of today several positions have opened on my staff.”

  He laughed, a shrill sound. His gut wobbled with mirth.

  “I’ll also admit that seeing someone like you barge your way in here with so much energy and verve is … arousing.”

  Charley was sickened to see a podgy erection peeping through the water.

  “Don’t take this personally,” she said. “But I can see further than fucking Sandflower Downs. Next stop - Zeba.”

  Pedro’s eyes glittered.

  “Good luck with that, girlie.”

  Charley sent a bolt into the water, which quickly turned syrupy scarlet. Pedro’s body shuddered and a sweaty, meaty stench filled the air.

  “I might be a girl, but I’m also a pirate,” she said softly. “Maybe.”

  Charley left his corpse in the water. There was no way of knowing what would happen in the newly-created power vacuum, but she didn’t care. In the long run, nothing would change. Some other bastard would assume control of the garbage transfer business and exploit the people of the shanty town once again. There would always be a lack of r
esources, just enough to keep the strongest alive but nowhere near enough to allow anyone to start fresh somewhere else. It had taken a rare event for Charley to get the chance to make something of herself. She was determined to make it count.

  Reminding herself to stay vigilant, Charley ascended to the third storey, wondering how the hell she was supposed to start Pedro’s speeder, which would no doubt be DNA activated. The level comprised a number of smaller storage rooms. Charley would’ve liked to pillage them for valuable items but there wasn’t enough time. She guessed she would only have a half hour or so before scavengers from the town realized the compound was wide open. From that point, it would be like ants devouring a carcass.

  8

  The room at the far end of the hall was shut. Charley kicked the door open and found a bedroom replete with musical gear and a huge, spherical VR harness. A young man holding a laser rifle spun in the harness, picking off enemies in the interactive game he was playing. Charley deactivated the VR harness at the power supply. The boy slowed to a halt and removed his helmet.

  “What the fuck …?”

  “You Pedro’s son?” Charley asked. She was vaguely aware of his existence, but assumed he’d died years ago. Judging from his pale skin, he hadn’t been outside for quite a while.

  “If you say so,” he muttered, climbing down and regarding Charley with wide eyes. “You from the slums?”

  Charley looked away self-consciously. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Nope,” came the earnest reply. “You’re too pretty for the slums. Wanna take a ride in Dad’s speeder?”

  The kid was oblivious to all the violence that had taken place. He probably thought she was one of Pedro’s call girls, and that her blasters were role playing toys. Fresh-faced and freckly, he couldn’t be more then seventeen. Eighteen, max. Tall and gangly in that awkward teen way. Perhaps a year younger than Charley. How could she exploit the situation? Having just offered her a ride, it could be safely assumed he had access to Pedro’s speeder. For her plan to work, she needed to lull the boy into a false sense of security. That would require something a little creative. She shut the door behind her with a grin.