The Space Pirate 1 (12 page)

She unloaded the sack on the counter. The idols fell over each other to be noticed, some of them making a tinkling sound.

Yasker’s optical array flared, registering surprise.

“Awww,” he said, focusing on the colorful items. Charley suspected his optical array would be feeding him information on the possible origin of these things. Charley didn’t mind at all. Silverton had traveled the galaxy and she had no reason to doubt that the idols were genuine.

“Very, very nice,” said Yasker distractedly. He held an onyx bull up to the light. It flared with amber veins. “Oh, yes.”

Charley waited while the exotics dealer assessed each piece one by one. She heard a clucking sound from the back of the store. The place smelled like a mixture of shit, plasma and mint. Charley found herself checking her wrist pad. Damn. Another rookie mistake. Yasker would try and rip her off if she looked too fidgety. The fact was she had no idea of the value of these things. She’d been so busy driving she forgot to look them up on Nex.

At length Yasker completed his assessment. By that stage he’d lined up fourteen little figurines.

“Quite a collection,” he said. “Some of them religious, some have urban iconography. Very impressive. I’ll give you 1200 credits.”

Charley had rehearsed this moment for several minutes.

“Bullshit,” she said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try and rip me off.”

It was a gamble but she had no other play. Yasker eyed her with interest before barking with amusement.

“Fine, fine. Excuse an old man his fun, eh?”

“5300,” Charley said with what she hoped was unshakable confidence. She’d heard that interstellar berths in the meanest cargo freighters could go for as much as 4500.

A faint smile crossed Yasker’s face. Fuck it - she was underselling again.

“4100,” said the old dealer.

“5300,” Charley repeated, cursing herself for getting this bartering thing wrong again. “If you bid low again I’m gonna raise it.”

Yasker held both arms in the air. “Fine, fine,” he said in a gentle voice, like a man stepping around a tiger and unable to believe his luck. “Looks like we have a deal.”

“In cash,” Charley demanded.

“Is there any other way on Abeyas?” Yasker said with good humor. Charley supposed not.

Five and a bit blood red credit tubes in 1000 denominations did the trick. Charley pocketed the tubes with a wry smile. She’d totally fucked up the trade - those idols were worth more - but at least she had enough to make it off Abeyas. She felt so happy she could’ve cartwheeled from the kiosk. She regretted fencing Silverton’s prized collection of idols, but she’d come through with her side of the bargain and had no obligation to preserve his entire cache. The last she saw of Yasker was a dealer greedily lining up his new idols.

18

The air was thick and sultry when Charley rejoined the street. The heavy clouds looked pregnant with rain. The sight was a novelty for many in the street. Rain on Abeyas was a rare occurrence indeed.

Satisfied with the clink of credits in her pocket and over the recent humiliation at the hands of a wily dealer, Charley holed up in a noodle bar and paid for a premium stool with a view of the street. She ordered tarbor noodles with eggs and chili. The old-school Spacetown dish was delicious. She sipped the rich broth as she watched people walk by. Some of them were clearly off-worlders. They were dressed in exotic fashions and carried an air of galaxy-weary experience. Most of these folk would never get anywhere. As Charley had always suspected, being stuck on Abeyas was about as low as you could get in this galaxy. It just wasn’t a message the authorities were keen to broadcast to everyone.

Some folks liked to believe that the rest of the galaxy was as dangerous and as ugly as Abeyas. The first bit may have been true, but Charley was convinced that the second part wasn’t. She was determined to savor the beauty of life and there was only one way she could do that before she died. She had to take it with both hands.

She looked over to the port dome, which was flickering as it was deactivated. A heavy cargo freighter lifted off with a bass thrum that reverberated throughout the city. It was a thrilling sound for Charley - for her, it represented freedom and movement. People in motion, doing something about their lives. Charley watched the freighter soar into the dark cloud and disappear in spiraling vapor trails. The heavens broke, tumbling rain onto the denziens of Spacetown. The crowds in the streets cheered and made fun of getting wet. It was a brief, magical interlude from their tired, desperate lives. A broad smile on her face, Charley crossed the street, her blond hair dripping wet in no time. She headed up to her room and gathered her things.

“What’s up, sexy?” FIGJAM asked, picking up on her buoyant mood.

“It’s time to go, FIGJAM,” she said, liking the sound of those words.

“Then let’s do it, baby,” came the smooth reply.

“Alright, then,” Charley said.

She slid FIGJAM into her belt and made sure all her weapons were primed. She was about to enter the unknown and needed to be ready.

A number of shuttles ran from the town center to the port facility. Charley took the first available transport and slipped the seven credit charge into the slot. The ride to the port was a little unnerving. The rain seemed to have made some sections of the city a bit crazy. There were riots in the north side res blocks and several gunshots were heard. The rain had also slowed the traffic down. All Charley could see through the windows were rivulets of water. She breathed a sigh of life when they reached the end of the line.

She was deposited on the sidewalk in the driving rain. A huge neon sign reading ‘ABEYAS PORT’ loomed over her. She hurried through the rain, finding sanctuary through the row of doors under the sign.

The port terminal was awash with sweaty, nervous humanity. People always got fidgety when the weather was unpredictable, and a port terminal experienced the worst of this. Civilians argued with port officials at every turn. It seemed there were delays on all off-world flights. Charley lost herself on the departures board, her heart hanging on every exotic destination that was listed. She savored the names - Andalia, Klondow, Prime One, Obeyo, Bonesse, Gamione, Desarre IV. So many planets to explore! And these were only the planets within freight distance of Abeyas. If memory served, if she wanted to get to the Galactic Academy to meet with Silverton’s contact she would need to long-haul to Danderly and take a connector to the Academy itself. She felt a thrill when she saw that two freighters were heading that way. Both of them had red squares next to their names to indicate they were full. Charley didn’t let the discovery bring her down. There was always the chance she could benefit from someone else’s cancellation. She approached the terminal desk with trepidation.

“Hey, babe …” FIGJAM murmured, but Charley had a one track mind. She had to do this.

“I’d like passage to Danderly, please,” she said, unable to wipe the smile from her face. It seemed she was determined to become a pirate.

“Well, let’s see,” said the tired-looking flight broker. “Do you have your ID card?”

Charley’s blood went cold. “My what?”

“Your ID card? You know, the one you were issued when you turned twelve?”

“Ah, no, I think I lost it,” Charley said.

“Hmmm,” came the doubtful reply. “You can’t do much without one. Where you from?”

Charley figured there wasn’t much point in lying. “Sandflower Downs,” she said.

The broker emitted a high-pitched laugh. It was achingly condescending. “I’m sorry, but folks from Sandflower Downs don’t usually travel. In fact, I’ve never had one.”

Charley stared daggers at the broker. “That doesn’t mean we don’t travel at all.”

The broker struggled to stifle her infuriating smile. “I’m sorry, but unless you have an ID card, I can’t process you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Charley snapped. “Do you realize what I’ve been through just to get here?”

She slammed her credits to the counter.

“I want off-world, bitch.”

The broker nodded to a security guard.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “The galaxy wants to know you first.”

“Babe, back away,” FIGJAM murmured.

Charley did so hesitantly, her face scarlet with fury.

“I tried to warn you before,” FIGJAM said. “Sandflower Downs won’t get you anywhere. Take me to that machine over there.”

FIGJAM directed Charley to a vending machine by the wall. It was for lost ID cards and cost 70 credits.

“What good will this do?” Charley asked irritably. “I don’t have any details on file. I’m just an urchin from a remote outpost. A shithole.”

“Now, steady on, sexy lady,” FIGJAM said. “FIGJAM might have a few tricks up his sleeve.”

FIGJAM’s wheels started spinning, as if he wanted to go somewhere.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Charley asked.

“Open the code port at the back,” he said quietly, his digital eyes darting around.

Charley hesitated. There were several watchful guards standing around.

“You want out of here - just do it,” the PalBot commanded.

Charley made as if she were leaning against the wall, then deposited the PalBot to the floor. It immediately extended a data jack from under its face.

“For installing new personality components,” it explained. “A lot of people don’t know that I can push data out too.”

FIGJAM inserted its data jack into the vending machine’s code port and it began spinning.

“What’s the plan?” Charley asked, looking around nervously.

“To get you an identity, of course,” came the distracted reply. “I’d say a mid-level tech dealer would be enough to get you off the planet.”

“Fine, just hurry up.”

“Genius takes time, darlin’,” came the indignant reply. “Besides, this kinda feels good.”

“Just get on with it, creep,” Charley said, shaking her head. She was foolish to put her faith in a strange little robot who was still effectively a stranger.

A whirring sound from inside the machine.

“Go round the front, sweetheart,” said FIGJAM.

Charley looked in the dispenser slot and saw an ID card in there.

The name read CHARLEY SILVERTON. A nice touch for the PalBot to remember that. The occupation read TECH DEALER and there was even a photograph underneath. It was a frontal shot of Charley looking slightly agitated.

“FIGJAM - have you been taking photos of me?”

The robot nudged her foot. “My personal collection is my business.”

“On second thought, I don’t want to know,” Charley sighed. “Thank you.”

“No sweat,” FIGJAM said as Charley slotted him back into her belt. “I kinda want out of here too.”

This time Charley approached a different dealer.

“One ticket to Danderly,” she said resolutely, laying down the credit tubes alongside her ID card.

“Certainly, ma’am,” the broker said, plugging in her data.

“There’s a Borsian freighter leaving in three hours,” the official said. “Bulkhead passage only. You don’t mind roughing it?”

Charley shook her head quickly. She would take whatever she could get.

Charley’s heart lurched when the broker produced a single, tantalizing micro-chip.

“Report to Gate 54. The vessel’s name is Fortitude.”

Charley beamed at the broker and hustled through the crowd. She pressed her micro-chip into the wall cavity at Gate 54 and wandered into a huge hangar area filled with hulking freighters. The area was a hive of activity, with engineers buzzing over the craft like swarming ants. Charley made sure she noted where Fortitude lay berthed - it was an ugly, snub-nosed freighter but at that moment it seemed like the most beautiful ship in the galaxy. It represented freedom. And a glittering future.

19

Charley and FIGJAM found a place to sit and watched the port workers go about their business. FIGJAM was more pleasant than he normally was, joining Charley in a withering assessment of these engineers’ private lives. It felt good to laugh again. Charley felt as though she hadn’t laughed in months. She thought of her mother and brothers back at Sandflower Downs. She was shocked to discover she had no emotion about them whatsoever. She could never see her brothers again and that would be fine. As for her her mother, the less said about her the better.

The port speaker system announced that Fortitude was now boarding. Her heart racing, Charley climbed the aft ramp and was engulfed by the ship. A sturdy man with blond hair nodded curtly at her as he scrutinised a light board.

“Charley … Silverton?” he asked, peering at her with leery eyes.

“That’s me,” Charley said proudly. “Nice to be aboard, Captain …?”

“Tyran,” said the Captain, gripping her hand strongly. “Andor Tyran. I hope you’ll be comfortable on Fortitude.”

“I don’t doubt it, Captain,” Charley said brightly. “Anywhere is better than here.”

“You got that right,” Tyran said with a smile that came out as a scowl. “She ain’t much, but this tub is dependable. You won’t have anything to worry about while you’re strapped to the bulkhead.”