The Space Pirate 1 (8 page)

She couldn’t deny it was fun to have actual money in the pocket as she tried various things on. She’d never been to anything like a clothing store and felt like some kind of pampered desert princess.

In a store called ‘Dawn Mirage’ she was approached by a svelte assistant.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked politely, though her eyes looked Charley up and down with a hint of disdain.

Charley thought it was best to be honest.

“I’ll be a guest at the street races tonight,” she said.

The assistant nodded. “In that case you might want to assess our black leather range? I believe you could pull most of it off.”

Charley wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or not, but she submitted to the assistant’s suggestion.

Charley tried on a number of things and eventually dared to try something that made her look like a dominatrix. The ensemble included thigh-high boots with incredibly long heels, a tight bodice that revealed much more of her cleavage than she thought would be safe, and a collar around her neck that made her look like someone’s property. All up, she hated it.

“I love it!” the assistant squealed. For good measure she fasten two huge black feathers in the white belt at Charley’s waist, completing a picture of freakish weirdness.

“What the fuck?” questioned Charley as she looked at herself in a wall-length mirror. “I look like a crow that’s been run over.”

The assistant looked at her as if she was dim. “Well, you want to get into the Canary Cage, right?”

Charley’s shoulders slumped. Clearly there was an exclusive section at these night races that required a certain look. She didn’t like the sound of this at all, but relented on account of needing a benefactor that night. She pictured herself heading to the Dusty Mountains the next morning. Maybe, just maybe, all this would be worth it.

“I’ll take it,” she said firmly.

“Well alright,” said the assistant with a beaming smile. “That’ll be 360.”

Charley was hesitant to hand over so much money and hoped she wasn’t about to regret it. She got changed quickly and convinced the assistant to throw in a storage bag for good measure. With the bag slung over her shoulder, she stepped out into the darkness, stopping at a street kiosk for roasted meat, gravy and anasune rice. She’d need all the fuel she could get.

As a precaution she paid for a room at a two-star hotel. She didn’t know if she’d need a place to hole up in the early morning. Besides, it gave her a chance to dump the clothing bag and put her feet up for a while. There was a beaten up readout by the lumpy bed and she set it for midnight.

12

The digital whine of the clock woke her from a deep sleep. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but any rest she could get was welcome. She took a quick shower, unsurprised to find the water was limited to cold only. Pulling her ridiculous outfit on without the assistant’s help was easier said than done, but she managed it after several minutes of grunting and swearing. She even arranged the feathers at her back, knowing that nothing but the complete effect would get the job done tonight.

With extreme regret she was forced to stow her weapons in the clothing bag and shove it under the dirty mattress. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing the gear Silverton had given her but she had to take the risk.

And with that, she stepped into the cool night, surrounded by glitzy neon as she followed the crowds to the night racing hub. She got more than one glance and wished she had a chaperon to keep her safe. In this kit she was hardly going to be able to fight back if someone attacked her.

Hundreds of people were congregating on a wide street that ran north south through Zeba. The balconies that overlooked the dusty street were filled with revelers drinking, decking and wasting themselves with the local drug Fantasy.

Charley walked through a haze of smoke, struggling to get her bearings in such a whorl of activity.

The throb of heavy propulsion bulbs grabbed the night by the throat and squeezed hard. The sound sent shivers down Charley’s spine. It was an epic sound, aggressive and intimidating. Just thirty yards up the street a pair of speeders were preparing to race. The whine of the modified prop bulbs reached fever pitch and Charley almost covered her ears. Ejecting a wall of pure flame, the speeders lurched crazily into action, surging north up the street at kamikaze speeds. A huge cheer rolled its way past Charley. Excited men hugged and patted each other on the back. Women struggled to keep their colorful hats as a strong zephyr gusted through. The intense smell was a mixture of cordite and perfume. In the the haze left by the speeders’ passing, Charley saw a curved steel lattice beyond the starting line and guessed this must be the Canary Cage the shop assistant referred to. Still struggling with her heels, Charley made her way through the euphoric throng of onlookers and came across a string of burly security guards at the base of the cage structure. A heavy set, bearded guard leered at her, taking his time to drink in her curves. Charley’s stomach lurched but she decided to enter the spirit of the occasion, spinning around slowly so the sweaty losers got a great look at her butt. The bearded guard was almost drooling as he approached.

“You look tight,” he whispered in her ear. He smelled like cigarettes and halitosis. “But you need a cage pass, darlin’.”

Charley stifled a flash of anger. Of course she did. These ‘cage passes’ were probably doled out by fat creeps like this guy after certain favors were rendered. Despite the wonderful architecture, Charley was beginning to hate Zeba as much as she hated Sandflower Downs.

“I’ll tell you what,” she breathed in her most husky voice. “Why don’t you let me in and I’ll promise not to follow you home and pump your head full of plasma?”

Charley was so angry she felt like she could lose control at any moment. To come so far only to be held back by some worm on the door was unthinkable. To her surprise, the guard laughed heartily.

“Make sure you do,” he said with a wink, stepping aside with a flourish. “Make sure you do.”

Charley entered the cage without another word. The cage was filled with women dressed like she was, except with more color and even more flesh on display. The outfits ranged from her own dominatrix black to rippling, parrot-like color to transparent chiffon that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Near-naked, glistening men weaved their way through the colorful menagerie carrying trays of designer drugs. Feeling nervous all of a sudden, Charley found herself a quiet corner from which she could watch proceedings discreetly. Most of the preening women seemed to be interested in one thing only - the drivers entering the cage after their races. It appeared that one of the benefits of winning a drag was the chance to ‘pick’ one of the women in the cage. Charley assumed that these women were hopefuls selected on certain ‘assets’. If they were lucky they’d get a chance to spend the night with one of the hotshot drivers of the Zeba night races. Women were treated poorly where Charley was from, but even by those standards this setup made her feel slightly sick. What kind of twisted society treated women like so many pieces of meat? It was far from an ideal situation, but it was one in which Charley just might be able to access the type of vehicle she was looking for. She didn’t know much about Zeba’s social strata but it was obvious these drivers were feted like gods, and they probably had funds to match. Charley hung back and waited for an opportunity. Many of these women seemed nervous and were over-indulging on alcohol and chems. All she had to do was stay cool, keep herself fresh and hope that a slice of luck fell her way.

As it turned out, she didn’t need to wait long. Just as well, because the cage was covered with excitable locals climbing the outside frame, hoping for a look at the glamorous ‘birds’.

A roar went up from the starting line and two more cars screamed down the straight. A second cheer heralded the arrival of the winner of the previous race. A man in a spectacular white jumpsuit entered the cage. He was quite tall and saturnine, his tanned complexion betraying a youth spent on the salt pans. Charley supposed he was reasonably good looking in a flashy, superficial way. He moved with an easy confidence, like a panther in no hurry to hunt down its prey. The man glided through several women who’d made the mistake of stepping forward too quickly. Charley took a step back and concentrated her gaze on one of the fat, sweaty faces that peered through the cage grill.

“I won’t allow it,” came a smooth voice. “Someone has gone and left you all alone.” Charley turned to face the mercurial champion of Zeba’s night races.

“I don’t know,” she said coolly. “Do you think my situation has improved?”

The driver grinned. Charley couldn’t help but notice that his teeth were bright and immaculate.

“Undoubtedly,” he said with quiet confidence. Charley had to admit she didn’t mind his self-assurance at all. It wasn’t the arrogant variety, but something a little more authentic.

“Tando,” he said, extending the calloused hand of a professional driver. “It seems I’ve found a friend.”

Charley took the hand gently, not wanting to overplay her hand.

“And your name is …?”

“I’m a stranger here,” Charley said cryptically. “I’m hoping to leave tomorrow.”

That did the trick. Tando looked at Charley with mild surprise.

“So soon? But the regatta has only just begun.”

Charley met his inquisitive eye with what she hoped was smoldering fire. “I fucking hate speeders. I prefer spaceships.”

Tando barked a small, incredulous laugh. “Curious indeed,” he murmured, taking another opportunity to look her up and down.

“If you wanted to draw my interest, stranger danger, you have it.”

“What normally happens now?” Charley said, making a show of stifling a yawn.

“Now? We would talk, perhaps laugh, rejoin my friends at a night spot for a drink.”

“Have fun,” Charley said, acting like she was preparing to leave. “I was hoping we could get straight to it.”

“Straight to what?” asked Tando with a bemused expression.

“To you and me,” Charley said with a raised eyebrow.

“But of course,” Tando replied, stumbling over his words a little. “I can’t let you leave Zeba without at least seeing my house.”
He offered his arm gallantly. “Shall we?”

Charley smiled for the first time. “I thought you’d never ask.”

13

Tando’s home was converted from what used to be the northwest belfry of a monastery in the center of town. As such it was three storeys of cool sandstone, replete with arches and alcoves in the old style. There was even a winter garden on the middle storey, shielded from the harsh sun for most of the day cycle.

Tando and Charley took time with the ancient tradition of courtship, chatting amiably in the winter garden before adjourning to the living space when the night breeze grew too cool.

“I love the architecture,” Charley commented as she accepted a glass of belanto wine. “I take it you drivers sit at the top of the tree.”

“I am very lucky,” Tando admitted. “A successful driver in Zeba earns the right to take what he wants.”

Tando’s predatory look didn’t sit well with Charley. She set down her glass, feeling nervous again. Had she acted rashly in choosing this man as her way out? At the canary cage he’d seemed affable enough. But here, in the privacy of his home, she could see the veneer of decency falling away. His public face was melting, and what she saw now was a brute, just like all the others.

“I’m sure you’re used to taking what you want,” Charley said coldly.

“To be honest, I find taking is far more exciting than asking,” Tando said ominously as he stepped towards her. Charley forced herself to remain calm on the outside, but on the inside her heart was beating madly. What she would give for her fucking saber! What price would she pay for selling her prized possession?

“I understand completely,” Charley purred, forcing herself to remain still. “But I pictured this happening somewhere else.”

“Really?” Tando said. Now that he’d revealed his true colors he made her skin crawl.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I was hoping for the bonnet of one of your speeders.”

Tando’s eyebrow arched in disgusting anticipation. “So, who hates speeders now, eh?” he said glibly. “I think that can be arranged, girl with no name.”

Tando took Charley’s hand and led her into his personal drop shaft. He stared at her with hooded eyes as they descended to the basement. She licked her finger suggestively, hating every moment.

The basement was bright with reflective chrome. It was also large enough to house three vehicles. Such a number was almost unheard of on Abeyas. This Tando sure knew how to milk his status as racing demi-god. Not for the first time, Charley felt sick with the inequity and injustice on her home planet. In what universe did this loser deserve a lion’s share of the wealth? It just didn’t make any logical sense. Charley’s plan gained even more urgency as Tando unzipped his jump suit and pulled his trousers free. Such men had no need for underpants. Tando was already hard, his manhood bouncing around in gleeful anticipation.

“Which one?” he asked with a grin.

“Sorry?”

“Which car?”

Charley was already looking at the one at the far end. She hadn’t had a chance to check it out before because the light had been dim on arrival.