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Authors: George Lambert
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about the black smoke. Charley ignored him, sending a little prayer to Inness that the old woman find peace in the afterlife.
As Charley rejoined the street her mind felt heavy and contemplative. Human life was next to worthless on Abeyas. Death was such a daily occurrence that people had grown numb to it. Right there and then Charley decided that life was too short to try and play ‘the right way’. Zeba demanded that she start at the bottom, to work her bones to the ground just to earn her daily bread. Fuck that. Charley wanted to prove what she could really do if only she was given a chance. As she walked among the various stalls and kiosks selling all manner of exotic equipment she couldn’t hope to afford, Charley shook her head clear. She felt confident and optimistic all of a sudden. Didn’t she have a deadly array of weapons on her person? Wasn’t she both smart and pretty? That should be one hell of a combination.
Charley walked a long way. She knew her time at La Bonita had come to an end, but that was OK - she had no possessions to go back and collect. Silverton’s body was safely stashed away in her rented gear locker.
Charley headed west on foot, threading her way through an interlocking series of markets. Some of them were in the open air, shaded by huge sail cloths and cooled by huge industrial fans. Others were housed in ancient, crumbling buildings inlaid with beautiful, yet faded mosaics. Abeyas had once been a noble and dignified society of desert artisans and explorer nomads. Over-population had since become an issue and the cities were inundated with scumbags from all over the galaxy. Some of the old architecture was intact, particularly in Zeba and Spacetown. Charley enjoyed the cool arcades she wandered through, even if she could only window shop the various items on display.
As Charley walked, a plan slowly formed in her mind. It was relatively risky but there was no way she was gonna reach Silverton’s loot cache without a daring plan. One of the things she could hear from her room at La Bonita was the heavy throb of drag racing late at night. There was some serious racing going on somewhere in town. Charley had no interest in the racing itself, having no experience with powerful speeders of any kind, but she was attracted to the money that was inevitably drawn and funneled through such activities. If street racing was what the rich young elite of Zeba happened to do, then that’s where Charley needed to be.
Assuming there would be another street race late that night, the first thing Charley needed was a sexy look. She hated to do it, but at length Charley decided to sell the heavy saber Silverton had given her. It didn’t take long to find a melee weapons trader in a cool nook of the Southern Palm Trade Villa. The owner, a small, bespectacled man, hefted the blade and swung it several times. It sang through the air.
“So well balanced,” Charley enthused, hoping to raise the price. “A genuine pirate’s sword.”
The weapons dealer nodded gently as he weighed the sword.
“430,” he said flatly. Charley almost felt guilty at selling the thing. Clearly it was a valuable weapon! She was hoping Silverton had another just like it in his loot cache. If not she could always return to buy it back. She snapped herself back to the present - it was just a sword! Why did she feel so guilty?
“500 or no deal,” she said firmly.
“You got it,” the dealer murmured with a faint smile. He counted out the credit bits. Charley wondered if she’d done the whole bartering thing right. No matter. She still had lethal weapons and a pocket full of cred. As the afternoon became dark and gloomy she perused an arcade that specialized in female clothing.
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
As Charley rejoined the street her mind felt heavy and contemplative. Human life was next to worthless on Abeyas. Death was such a daily occurrence that people had grown numb to it. Right there and then Charley decided that life was too short to try and play ‘the right way’. Zeba demanded that she start at the bottom, to work her bones to the ground just to earn her daily bread. Fuck that. Charley wanted to prove what she could really do if only she was given a chance. As she walked among the various stalls and kiosks selling all manner of exotic equipment she couldn’t hope to afford, Charley shook her head clear. She felt confident and optimistic all of a sudden. Didn’t she have a deadly array of weapons on her person? Wasn’t she both smart and pretty? That should be one hell of a combination.
Charley walked a long way. She knew her time at La Bonita had come to an end, but that was OK - she had no possessions to go back and collect. Silverton’s body was safely stashed away in her rented gear locker.
Charley headed west on foot, threading her way through an interlocking series of markets. Some of them were in the open air, shaded by huge sail cloths and cooled by huge industrial fans. Others were housed in ancient, crumbling buildings inlaid with beautiful, yet faded mosaics. Abeyas had once been a noble and dignified society of desert artisans and explorer nomads. Over-population had since become an issue and the cities were inundated with scumbags from all over the galaxy. Some of the old architecture was intact, particularly in Zeba and Spacetown. Charley enjoyed the cool arcades she wandered through, even if she could only window shop the various items on display.
As Charley walked, a plan slowly formed in her mind. It was relatively risky but there was no way she was gonna reach Silverton’s loot cache without a daring plan. One of the things she could hear from her room at La Bonita was the heavy throb of drag racing late at night. There was some serious racing going on somewhere in town. Charley had no interest in the racing itself, having no experience with powerful speeders of any kind, but she was attracted to the money that was inevitably drawn and funneled through such activities. If street racing was what the rich young elite of Zeba happened to do, then that’s where Charley needed to be.
Assuming there would be another street race late that night, the first thing Charley needed was a sexy look. She hated to do it, but at length Charley decided to sell the heavy saber Silverton had given her. It didn’t take long to find a melee weapons trader in a cool nook of the Southern Palm Trade Villa. The owner, a small, bespectacled man, hefted the blade and swung it several times. It sang through the air.
“So well balanced,” Charley enthused, hoping to raise the price. “A genuine pirate’s sword.”
The weapons dealer nodded gently as he weighed the sword.
“430,” he said flatly. Charley almost felt guilty at selling the thing. Clearly it was a valuable weapon! She was hoping Silverton had another just like it in his loot cache. If not she could always return to buy it back. She snapped herself back to the present - it was just a sword! Why did she feel so guilty?
“500 or no deal,” she said firmly.
“You got it,” the dealer murmured with a faint smile. He counted out the credit bits. Charley wondered if she’d done the whole bartering thing right. No matter. She still had lethal weapons and a pocket full of cred. As the afternoon became dark and gloomy she perused an arcade that specialized in female clothing.
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
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