The Pirate Guild Read online

  “No offense, but your father is a bore,” she drawled. “I’d much rather spend the next few minutes with you.”

  The boy smiled.

  “I’m Gil,” he croaked.

  “Nice to meet you, Gil,” Charley said, feeling in complete control. She pushed him back against his futon and removed her shift, laying it down carefully so the pirate pellets wouldn’t roll anywhere. Her sword and pistols clattered to the floor also. She clasped her hands together so her cleavage was emphasized. Gil looked at her with hungry eyes, pulling his trousers over his stiff manhood. She stroked him with one hand and removed her bra with the other. After a while she removed her panties and climbed on him. Alive with the energy of battle, she didn’t really care if he came or not. At length she throbbed and shook uncontrollably, savoring the glorious moment of release. Once she’d regained her breath she threw her clothes on and grabbed the poor boy’s hand.

  “Let’s go for a joy ride,” she whispered.

  Gil threw his trousers on, oblivious to the fact he hadn’t yet had his way. Ensuring he didn’t look too closely at the bloodied spa, Charley dragged him out to the staircase. He seemed entranced by her presence and didn’t notice a thing. She kept him engaged until they made it to the basement, where he keyed a code into the security door and lead her into a cool basement.

  Pedro’s ride stood waiting for them. Gil activated the engines and had the beast throbbing with anticipation as the front roller doors opened.

  “What are you waiting for?” he asked with a smile. “Climb in.”

  At any other time, Charley might’ve welcomed a joyride of sorts. The HX7, a triple-velocitor beast, was a wonder to behold. Far too sleek and sexy for Sandflower Downs. The boy wore such an unguarded grin that Charley almost felt sorry for what was about to happen. Once the pair were strapped in, Gil guided the powerful vehicle into the yard and froze when he saw the corpses. Charley gripped the overhead roll bar and kicked at the young man, sending him over the side door and tumbling into the dust.

  “Sorry, Gil, but I’m flying solo,” she said, sliding into the driver’s seat and pressing hard on the accelerator.

  The speeder soared through the front gates and past a gaggle of curious townies who would no doubt be scavenging the place by nightfall. She wondered what would become of Gil. Probably dead by dawn. If he was smart and could leverage his father’s bank account, he might just find a way to survive. Truth be told, Charley didn’t really care either way - she was free from Sandflower Downs for the first time in her life.

  “Yes!” she screamed as the speeder thundered over the shimmering salt pan. The wind slapped at her hair and she could hardly see her wretched birthplace through the dust cloud she’d created. The primal joy that overtook her was electric, unlike anything she’d ever felt. It was surreal to finally be rid of the daily grind her life had become. The constant pressure to raise credit for dinner had begun to wear her down. She had no doubt she’d be dead had she not met Silverton.

  Even the harsh sun on her back didn’t feel so bad as she soared over the flat pan. The HX7 nav computer told her that Zeba lay in the middle of the Sarzor Salt Pan, 434 miles to the west. The trading hub was accessible from all directions. The only thing Charley had to watch out for was the odd granite mesa that towered over the inter-linked pans. Driving over this terrain couldn’t have been any easier. Charley had to wonder how Silverton had contrived to hit a rock. There was even time to take her hands off the steerage bar and luxuriate in her new freedom. She had forty credits in her pocket and a number of items to sell. What would she do with the money? The smart play was to sell one or two items and lay low while she found a job that wasn’t hideous. If everything she’d heard about Zeba was true, that would be a tough challenge. Of course, the adventurous part of her fantasized about booking a leisure house for some serious pampering.

  A cold realization gripped her - she’d forgotten Silverton’s body! The old pirate was back where she’d left him. Furious with herself, Charley assessed her options. She could continue on her way and simply start a new life in Zeba. Tempting, especially now she’d come all this way across the pan. On the other hand, Silverton himself would be needed to access his loot cache. The body could prove that she held succession rights to his name. Most importantly, his stash would allow her to invest a little capital in something profitable. She was turning the speeder in a tight arc before she knew what she was doing.

  The trip back to Sandflower Downs was tense - Charley had no idea what to expect at Silverton’s speeder. Would the body still be there? Scavengers or desert crawlers might have gotten to it. She was relieved to see the corpse just where she left it. One or two gangers were loitering just out of town, edging closer to the corpses Silverton had dropped earlier. No doubt those bodies had already been looted. Charley left her speeder running while she hefted Silverton into the back. With a start she realized how lucky she was that she hadn’t killed the prop bulb. Only Van’s DNA could start the thing. Which made it useless after the trip to Zeba. She’d need to sell it to a codejacker or something. Damn, this was all getting complicated.

  With Silverton’s body secure, Charley gunned the prop bulb and reached top speed within seconds. Her fuel reserves would hold until she reached Zeba. At least she had her “cargo” now and could relax, though doubling back had taken some of the gloss off her escape.

  9

  The hours passed in shimmering monotony, the salt pan sliding by like a dream. Charley only knew she was traveling at all when the odd mesa gave her a reference point. At the three hour mark her neck grew stiff and she desperately needed a break. She stopped the speeder and let it run. Her pee sizzled on the pan under the sun’s glare. A hazy black object could be seen in the distance. Charley waited to be sure, but there could be no doubt it was approaching. The object resolved into five smaller objects that wobbled and changed shape constantly. Frowning, Charley reached for the nocs she’d found in the central console. Enhancing by 150%, a shiver went down her spine.

  The approaching objects were devil dogs, so-called for their jet black color. They were vicious desert hunters, desperate for meat and efficient in their predatory methods. Charley slid into the driver’s seat and accelerated into a lazy circle, waiting for the dogs to arrive. The sudden movement of the speeder didn’t deter them - if anything they quickened their pace. As they closed in, Charley had the spark of an idea. A speeder’s exhaust could be choked using the flap toggle on the dashboard. Hoping she didn’t stall completely, she choked the bulb hard, then abruptly opened all cylinders. The leading dog was engulfed in a spear of flame that set it on fire. It was surreal to watch the burning dog as it slowed to a halt. Two more dogs received the same fiery treatment. Charley lowered her targeting visor and began firing on the remaining attackers. She’d heard that some of the local governors on Abeya paid bounties for devil dog pelts. The animals tended to menace garbage barges and water handlers alike. Pedro Cavar himself had often paid small bounties for corpses. Figuring that heads would be adequate replacements for pelts, Charley lopped the dogs’ heads with her saber and piled them into a sack. Feeling profoundly satisfied with her day’s work, Charley continued into the western sunset, eager to reach Zeba before nightfall.

  The town loomed just as the sun had left a pink horizon behind. The first building Charley saw was the monstrous hull factory to the south east of Zeba itself. Raw minerals were mined in the Dusty Mountains and transported to the factory for shaping. The factory produced most of the toxic waste that was transported via garbage barge to Sandflower Downs. A large, droning barge actually passed close to Charley’s speeder as she cut close to the factory. She waved at one of the barge operators but all she got was a rude gesture. Perhaps they already knew what had happened at the other end of the line. Maybe Van had put a bounty on her head? It would probably be wise to lay low once in Zeba. Charley gave the intimidating factory a wide berth, though she marveled at the huge towers of flame she glimpsed inside the caverno
us building. The facility probably produced poor quality hullage for low level traders and private speculators. Hardly a jewel in the Abeya crown but it was relatively big business for the surrounding region. The governor of Zeba was a renowned germophobe and insisted on sending the toxic waste on to Sandflower Downs.

  An afternoon breeze licked at Charley’s blond hair as she approached Zeba’s city limits. She entered an untidy district characterized by low slung prefab housing and dubious drinking holes. It made sense to continue through here and make directly more the trading hub. Dominated by a neon spire, the center of town was awash with color and movement. Traders and entrepreneurs came from all over the region to exchange wares above and below the table. Since the collapse of the Empire, the black market had flourished, allowing many to make their fortune in taboo items. Unfortunately, that included people. Charley slowed down and inched her way through the crowd, mesmerized by the exotic flow of people around her. The bustle of people became too great to move any further. Charley pulled into the horseshoe drive of a plush-looking hotel. Well, as plush as any Zeba had to offer in any case. It was probably a clean, three star affair - not bad for this region of Abeya. Much further east, Spacetown probably had a clutch of five star hotels, but the port city seemed far beyond Charley’s means.

  She killed the prop bulb, knowing that doing so made the speeder unavailable to her. A terrible smell emanated from the trunk. She was disappointed to find that the dogs’ heads had congealed into a bloody mess. She tossed the sack away in disgust. Gathering her equipment, she strolled into the lobby as if she did it every day. The truth was her heart was pounding with excitement.

  The concierge looked at Charley doubtfully.

  “I’d like a room for the night, please. And a recommendation for spa treatment.”

  Charley found herself saying the words before she could stop them. She’d endured too much hardship to let her first night of freedom slip by with barely a ripple. She was hot, dusty, and tired. If anyone deserved a little pampering, it was her.

  The concierge looked out at the bloody sack Charley had deposited on the pavement. Oh, fuck …

  “I’m not sure you’re a good fit for La Bonita,” the concierge said with a note of disdain.

  “I’ll be right back,” Charley said, backing away. It was best to move fast. The first thing she did was grab Silverton’s body from the trunk and sling it over her shoulder. Man, he was heavy. She wouldn’t be able to hold him for long. Plus, there was always a chance someone would spot his grievous wounds and take further interest. Her dreams of hotel luxury dashed, she headed north along the sidewalk. Overburdened, she was about to drop Silverton altogether when a pestering street urchin gave her an idea. She flicked the gangly kid a credit bit and asked him to carry the body. The boy did as he was told, wrinkling his nose at the disgusting smell. Luckily he asked no questions.

  “Take me to the nearest locker service,” Charley commanded, trying to sound like she was loaded. Not so easy to do wearing a soiled linen shift. Thankfully the security kiosk wasn’t far. She gave the street urchin a second credit bit and lay Silverton against the lockers. Before anyone got too close, she paid five bits for three days and shoved the corpse into locker 435. She half expected a little heat to arrive but the kiosk frontage was mostly opaque to the street. Glad to have that chore over and done with, Charley slipped from the kiosk and made her way down a smoky alleyway. At length she saw a spluttering neon symbol depicting a pair of burnished crossed keys - the universal symbol for code-jacking services. From your grandmother’s safe box to the abandoned police cruiser you found under the bridge downtown, these guys knew how to jack anything. Whilst the act of code-jacking was highly illegal, the dissemination of advice and jacking equipment was roundly permitted as a legitimate business service. Charley found the concept to be largely incongruous, but certainly wasn’t about to complain.

  A disheveled man turned his attention to Charley from behind an armored plexiglass counter.

  “I have a HX7 overland speeder,” she said carefully.

  “That’s nice,” came the growled reply. “Is it yours?”

  “I’ve forgotten the code,” Charley said stupidly.

  “Of course you have,” the jacker said. “That’ll cost you extra. Where’s the vehicle?”

  “Out front of La Bonita.”

  The jacker gave a low whistle.

  “Visible,” he observed before looking her up and down. “How you gonna pay for this?”

  “You can have the speeder,” Charley said, unwilling to part with any of her weapons. That would be foolish in a town such as this.

  “Alright,” said the jacker suspiciously. “I’ll slice in and get out quick. For sight unseen, in a public place, all I can offer is 285.”

  Charley frowned. She couldn’t begin to pin an accurate price on the speeder, but had been expecting something in the thousands at least. Still, she was asking this jacker to slice in a highly visible place. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. The credits would be enough for a spa treatment and two days at La Bonita …

  “Deal,” she said uncertainly. “Go do your thing.”

  The jacker counted out a roll of credit bits before following Charley out onto the street. He made her show him exactly where the speeder was. She left him to it, not interested in what happened to him or the vehicle at this point. Thrusting her chest out, she approached the concierge for a second time.

  “My driver’s taking care of things,” she said lightly. “Two nights please.”

  The concierge looked at Charley doubtfully but accepted Charley’s money. Daring to believe she might actually be safe for the first time in months, she stepped into a drop shaft and made her way to room 909. It proved to be a basic room - single bed, holo unit, shower block. The walls were cracked and the smell was a little musty. The view through the grimy window was of a multi-level speeder lot. Despite her grimy surroundings, Charley savored her first real taste of freedom. The room was utterly palatial compared to the wretched shack in Sandflower Downs. And she had it to herself for two whole days. Unable to restrain herself, she jumped up and down, hugging herself with excitement. The glowing lights of the outside world reminded her that night had fallen and it was time for good soak. She pressed the com button by the bed.

  “Know a good spa house?”

  “Green Tea House,” the concierge replied. “Just head north down Bazaar Avenue.”

  10

  Charley took a quick shower before breezing through the night market on Bazaar Avenue. Though it’d been an impossibly long day, she felt fresh and alive. Her guilt at spending the rest of her hard earned money on a spa house dissipated when she saw the elegant building hove into view. Laced with cool green lanterns, the bamboo villa looked very welcoming indeed. The sloping eaves and gracefully symmetrical facade spoke of the old Tao style. Charley could never have believed that other people and cultures would want to make their way to Abeya. With growing excitement she stepped up to the front desk and marveled at all the various fragrances competing for her attention.

  The matron behind the desk smiled.

  “Tough day out there?”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Charley gladly paid for a full treatment and was sent to a locker room to prepare. Ensuring she was alone, she stowed her sword, pistols, targeter and pellets. A private spa room lay further down the corridor. The first spa phase was cold plunge. Charley removed her clothes, leaving them on the wooden decking. In complete silence she stepped into the neck-high pool, gasping at the cold. She stayed there until a resonant chime signaled that she should move into the second pool. This water was piping hot and scented with sandalwood, lavender and rose. She luxuriated for several minutes before two figures entered the room. The scantily-clad pair, a man and a woman, stood demurely by the side of the pool. Charley realized he was required to choose.

  She pointed to the female.

  “Just a massage,” she purred, in no mood for sexu
al intrigue.

  When she finally opened her eyes, the skillful testuon had gone. Sighing, Charley collected her clothes and was soon standing in the street once again. With a strangely heavy heart she headed back through the glittering, noisy night market and resolved to get some sleep while she could. Her slumber was far deeper than it had been for many, many months.

  The following morning dawned hot and bright. Charley could feel the naked, emergent heat in her room and guessed that a three star hotel didn’t cover air cooling. Within twenty minutes she was out on the street, armed and learning to be dangerous. She’d had her fun in the spa house - now it was time to turn some coin. She wasn’t sure if it was possible to break into the intricate business network of Zeba, but her only recourse was to begin at the bottom level. Her primary objective was to secure a transport to the Dusty Mountains and so she could locate Silverton’s loot cache.

  Stealing a speeder crossed her mind, but pulling off such a heist was harder than it seemed. A good jacker could do it in half a minute, but she didn’t come close to having those skills. She did have her pistols, and might have been able to commandeer a speeder at gunpoint, but to attempt that in a crowded place was foolhardy. Charley needed to run a little reconnaissance on the town and wait for the right opportunity. Above all, she couldn’t afford to panic. If she went down that road she would make rash decisions and wind up dead in the gutter.

  The first thing to take care of was hunger. Charley spent her remaining credits on a hot balakash roll from a street stall. It was delicious, despite not being able to identify the meat. The meal would set her up for the entire day. For an hour or two she simply sat on the dirty curb and watched the comings and goings of the famous Zeba markets. All manner of locals passed through here to source supplies and trade items. Charley wondered if one of the larger agents would take her on as a facilitator. With her looks and fresh appeal, she might just be able to established a career in that line. One or two polite inquires suggested there were no paying jobs in Zeba. The market was a chaos of trade, but precious few had the extra coin to take on new staff. Charley accepted the news with determined grace - she was thoroughly familiar with the concept of unemployment. She would need to make her own way and that suited her fine.