Read Online The Space Pirate 1 by George Lambert - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: George Lambert
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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
“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
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