The Space Pirate 1

by George Lambert

  Glad that locker services were now completely automated, Charley made her way down a smoky alleyway, looking out for a particular symbol. She’d been walking for several minutes when she saw it - the universal symbol for miscellaneous shoe repair. Everyone knew what they really offered - code jacking in all its forms. From your grandmother’s safe box to the armory on the abandoned police cruiser you found under the bridge downtown, these guys knew how to jack anything.

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

  “I got a DB4 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’m gonna offer is 285.”

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

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

  The jacker counted out a roll of credit bits and made Charley show him exactly where the speeder was. She left him to it, having no interest in how successful he was in accessing the vehicle. She just wanted it gone. Not for the first time she wished she had enough cash to have him jack that speeder for her and not for himself.

  She tried to forget about it as she approached the concierge for a second time.

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

  The concierge looked a little nervous but accepted Charley’s money. Feeling a little better about things, Charley stepped into an old drop shaft and made her way to room 909.

  It was a basic room - single bed, holo unit (with Nex of course), shower block in the corner. 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 all this, Charley savored the experience of being free from the cramped tin shack she usually called home. And, up until lately, whatever warm pile of garbage she could find. This room was utterly palatial compared to her life at Sandflower Downs. And she had it to herself for two whole days. Charley jumped up and down, hugging herself with excitement. The glowing lights of the speeder lot outside her window reminded her that night had fallen and it was time for good soak. She pressed the com button by the bed and talked directly to the concierge on the ground floor.

  “Know a good spa house nearby?”

  “Green Tea House,” came the reply after a moment. “Just head north down Bazaar Avenue.”

  10

  Charley took a quick shower to freshen up. Before long she was breezing through the night market on Bazaar Avenue, feeling fresh and alive.

  It had been a long day. Whatever guilt she felt about spending the rest of her hard earned money on a spa house dissipated when she saw the elegant building come into view. It was laced with cool green lanterns and looked very welcoming indeed. The building had the sloping eaves of the old Tao style. Charley could never have believed that other people and cultures would want to make their way to Abeyas.

  With growing excitement, Charley stepped up to the front desk and smelled a number of different fragrances.

  The old matron at the desk smiled and commented that she looked like a weary traveler. Charley gladly paid for a full treatment and was sent to a locker room to prepare. She stowed her sword, pistols, targeter and pirate pellets, making sure she was alone as she did so.

  Charley padded down a corridor to a private spa room. The first spa phase was cold plunge. She 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 gong sounded somewhere, then moved into the second pool. The tepid water made her giggle, especially as bubbles were pumped randomly via jets underneath the surface. After the second gong she moved languidly to the third pool, which was covered in soapy bubbles. She slid in with a beaming smile - this water was piping hot and scented with sandalwood, lavender and rose.

  She luxuriated in the pool for several minutes before the curtains parted by the pool and two figures walked in. The male just wore a thong. The female wore a thong and bikini. For a moment they stood there, and Charley realized she needed to choose. She wasn’t in the mood for the intrigue of sexual tension. She was weary in her bones and needed some sisterly love. She pointed to the female. The man nodded reverently and retreated behind the curtains. The female walked around the edge of the pool and stood behind Charley. She couldn’t see what the testuon, or leisure professional, was doing, but she heard the bikini and thong drop to the wooden floorboards.

  Charley felt a nice thrill as the testuon slid in behind her, pressing her ample breasts against her back. Her nipples felt light and arousing as they moved steadily across her back. The testuon gripped Charley’s shoulders and rubbed slowly but firmly, easing all the heat and pain from Charley’s tired muscles.

  Charley leaned back and enjoyed the massage, losing herself in the cool glow of the lantern in the corner. The overall ambiance was one of soothing life and harmony, and Charley felt herself slip into deep relaxation. She realized at that moment that she’d done the right thing and would have no regrets. It would’ve been so depressing to spend her first night of freedom alone in her hotel room. As if to emphasize the point, the testuon moved her hands around to Charley’s breasts.

  Charley groaned, widening her legs involuntarily. What this woman had that most men lacked was patience. She knew how to take her time and not change position every minute. She worked her fingers like a true professional. For her part, Charley loved having her body rubbed like that and made a mental note to encourage all future lovers to learn this technique. Slowly and inevitably the testuon’s fingers moved lower to Charley’s abdomen, lovingly stroking the taut muscles there. Charley felt a tingle between her legs as the testuon moved to her hip handles too, gripping and squeezing them with increased pressure.

  Finally, the testuon worked her fingers in between Charley’s legs. Charley felt a growing tide of release, working herself up to a throbbing orgasm right there in the hot pool. The testuon didn’t leave immediately, instead rubbing Charley’s shoulders while she enjoyed two or three ripple orgasms. Charley wasn’t sure if she’d ever been as happy as she currently was. When she finally opened her eyes the testuon had gone. All that was left was the cooling water, a room full of steam, and that glowing lantern in the corner. Sighing, Charley collected her clothes and was soon standing in the street. With a strangely heavy heart she walked back through the glittering, noisy night market and resolved upon getting some sleep before hitting the town early in the morning. She slept more soundly than she had for many, many months.

  The next morning dawned hot and bright. Charley could feel the 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 with all her weapons. She’d had her fun in the spa house - now it was time to turn some coin. If she could. She wasn’t sure how easy it would be to break into the intricate business network of Zeba. She guessed she would need to start at the bottom level. She only had one more night at the hotel and would be out on the street in no time. Her primary objective was to secure a vehicle for as long as
it took her to travel to the Dusty Mountains and locate Silverton’s loot cache.

  Simply stealing a vehicle crossed her mind, but to pull that off was extremely difficult. A good jacker could do it in half a minute, but she didn’t have those skills. She did have her pistols, and might have been able to commandeer a speeder at gunpoint, but to try that in a crowded place was fraught with danger. Charley would need to run a little reconnaissance on this town and wait for the right opportunity. Above all, she didn’t want to panic. If she went down that road she would make rash decisions and wind up dead in the gutter. No, she was a strong woman alone in a strange town and needed her wits about her to survive.

  The first thing Charley did was spend her remaining credits on a hot balakash roll from a street stall. It was delicious. She didn’t know where the meat was from and didn’t really want to know. Meat was not something she was used to having back at Sandflower and she relished the experience. The meal would set her up for the entire day. Not knowing where the next meal was coming from set Charley’s nerves on edge and made her alive to the sights and sounds of the waking day market.

  For one or two hours she simply sat on the dirty curb and watched the comings and goings of the famous Zeba markets. All kinds of locals passed through here to source supplies and trade items. Charley wondered if one of the larger trade companies would take her on as a facilitator. With her looks and fresh appeal she might just be able to make a career in that line. She even made a couple of polite inquiries, only to be rebuffed in no uncertain terms. She was told there were no paying jobs in Zeba. The market was a chaos of trade but no one had the extra coin to take on new staff. It was just the way things were. Charley accepted the news with determined grace - she was very familiar with the idea of unemployment. She would need to make her own way and that suited her fine.

  Studying the milling crowd intently, Charley looked for an opening she might be able to exploit in some way. She moved herself under the shade of an abandoned tarpaulin for a better view. At length she noticed a bora pod seller weaving in and out of the crowd. She was an old woman carrying a tray of the steaming pods, expertly taking credit bits in exchange for a single pod. Bora pods were bitter if taken raw, but cooked over hot coals they had a sticky sweetness that was appealing, particularly for breakfast. The woman had a noticeable limp, and struggled to waddle her way through the crowd. Charley waited until her tray was empty and followed her into an alleyway. The woman looked over her shoulder with suspicion but Charley was able to find cover before she was detected. Within minutes the old woman had located her cooking pit. She had covered it with a lattice of palm fronds so no one else could find it. Charley approached and called out softly. The old woman spun around, brandishing a rusted knife. Charley could see she was half-blind as well as lame.

  “I’m sorry,” Charley murmured. “I’m not here to steal from you. I need work.”

  The old woman shook her head angrily before sitting on an upturned fuel drum. She looked very tired. At length she gave in, realizing she didn’t have too many runs left in her.

  “I can help you,” Charley promised. “You can wait here and fill the tray while I make runs to the street.”

  The woman lifted her arms in the air with a resigned sigh. “One run, one credit bit,” she croaked. “I can’t pay more.”

  Charley nodded. It was a terrible wage for what was actually demanding physical work but she had no choice for the moment. Running the bora pods would allow her to penetrate the market network and look for further opportunities. Besides, she had to start somewhere. And she was determined not to sell her body.

  Charley panted through the next few hours as she sold bora pods to rude, indifferent traders. Well, not completely indifferent. On more than one occasion she felt a hand on her buttocks and one plucky merchant decided he wanted a feel between her legs also. Charley slipped away quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. The truth was most of these people carried proper weapons, unlike the thugs out at Sandflower Downs. Charley had no doubt they knew how to use them. Her targeting computer would only help her up to a certain point. At some stage she was going to need lessons in guncraft.

  For the moment, though, mere survival was the main focus. Charley was sweating profusely by the time a large sandstone watchtower chimed for noonday. She’d done seventeen runs in four hours - enough credit to procure some food for dinner and almost enough to stay one or two nights at a two star hotel. The one star option was out of the question - from what Charley had heard, dives like that were where you either got murdered or picked up a foul disease.

  The old pod seller saw Charley’s exhaustion and allowed her to sit for a few minutes in the shade of the alleyway. Charley learned that she hadn’t always been a lowly pod seller. Several years ago she and her husband had run a moderately successful water supply business. The secret was discovering a pure well far out in the pans. Naturally, they’d kept the well’s location a secret, but eventually that was their downfall. An enterprising competitor murdered her husband for his wrist pad and thus the location of the well. The woman was left destitute and vulnerable, her only option to gather bora pods from one of the valleys to the north and make the daily journey into Zeba’s day bazaar. She began her walk at three in the morning to find the freshest pods.

  Charley nodded in recognition, knowing the hardship of living day to day. It was just the way of Abeyas. Most people didn’t have the luxury of stockpiling resources for when times were tough. There simply wasn’t enough to go around. And so people like this pod seller suffered through their lives until they were physically unable to go any further. Charley admired the woman’s strength, but found herself hoping she never ended up like that. There was a better way and unfortunately it involved taking what she wanted from this galaxy. Staking her claim. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean she was going to give up and accept her station in life.

  By the end of a long, tiring day Charley had earned 32 credit bits. The old woman’s total profit was still quite substantial considering she hadn’t needed to move a muscle. Charley thanked her for the opportunity and walked out into the sunshine of the street, feeling the almost pleasant ache of an honest day’s work.

  Weaving in and out of the traders had been an interesting experience. For starters, she got an introduction into how Zebans conducted business. They haggled until both parties were almost amused with the result. It seemed to be the tradition here. Despite the plentiful smiles, this was a deadly serious market. People’s livelihoods were on the line. Not only that, most of these folk had families to feed. The bustle of the market masked a desperate struggle to survive.

  Charley had learned a few other bits and pieces of information. It seemed the governor was under increasing pressure to install a garrison in Zeba. Rumor had it that a new political party was forming over in the core worlds, people that wanted to form a new republic out of the old empire. That meant more organization, more pressure on Abeyas to act like a powerful nation even if it had never operated that way. The arid planet had always been a ramshackle den of thieves and poor people. Charley couldn’t imagine what a new galactic republic would mean for the sleepy place.

  In fact, Charley had noticed troopers she’d never seen before. Well, certainly not in Sandflower Downs. No, these soldiers were dressed in creamy yellow armor and carried state of the art rifles. One of the traders muttered something about Spacetown marines. Charley wasn’t particularly concerned about the show of force. She was just worried about keeping a roof over her head. Still, the traders seemed worried that a crackdown was imminent. That the old laws, for so long ignored, were about to come back with a vengeance.

  Charley was oblivious to such concerns as she nodded to the concierge and headed up to her room. She was so tired all she could do was interact with Nex for a little while. She’d seen Nex once or twice in Sandflower Downs but it was always over someone else’s shoulder. She enjoyed scrolling through a mass of information, free to go wherever she wanted. She flicke
d through a fashion gallery, dreaming about what she would buy when she finally came into some money.

  11

  After a few quiet, peaceful hours Charley’s stomach rumbled. She wandered out into the cool street and found a noodle bar away from the bustle of the night market. The tarbor noodles were delicious and she washed it down with one of the watery local beers.

  Feeling a little light-headed, Charley made her way back to the hotel and went to sleep wondering where she’d be resting this time the next night.

  Bright light through the window woke Charley just after dawn. Like Sandflower Downs, Zeba only really had two seasons - unbearably hot and just hot. The current season would soon come to an end and Zeba would bake under the sun for six months. Hopefully she would be off-planet by then. Well, a girl could dream. After a simple breakfast of pork and fresh bread Charley headed back into the day bazaar with the confidence of someone who already had some experience there.

  Apart from gleaning a little more information on the political front, there seemed to be nothing in the way of available work. Charley slumped in the shade of an alleyway as the noonday chime resounded across the crowded streets of the bazaar. On impulse she went to see the old bora pod seller, but the hot coal pit had been extinguished by water. The woman was nowhere to be seen. Charley hoped she had taken the extra money they had both made yesterday and treated herself to something nice. Closer to the street, though, Charley saw a suspicious object lying behind a foul-smelling skip. It was the old woman’s body. She had telltale silver residue around her nostrils. She used the extra money alright - to trip to a better place, perhaps to meet up with her long lost husband.