“I’ll do it, but for 2500,” she said. “And don’t offend me with bullshit offers ever again. Got it?”
To her surprise, Vin smiled. Beguiling and seductive, it lit up his whole face. Charley had to force herself to ignore it.
“Deal,” he said, extending his hand. Charley took it nervously. She could’ve sworn that he was flirting with her.
“So …” he said a little awkwardly. “You ready to go?”
Charley looked at him incredulously. “Now?”
Vin grinned sheepishly. “Our chartered flight is waiting on the tarmac.”
“With all our gear? The suits? Jetpacks?”
“I kinda guessed your size,” he said. “I had you pegged as a go-getter.”
Charley had a rush of anger. To be taken for granted wasn’t a nice feeling at all. She was half inclined to tell Vin Teks to fuck right off. Instead she thought of what she could do with the extra credits. Pay off the plumber and more. She just might be able to make her first down payment on her own ship. Now that would be a day to celebrate …
“Lead the way,” she growled. FIGJAM looked like it was about to say something but uncharacteristically decided against it.
“I know,” Charley said as Vin headed out the door. “I don’t like this either.”
Vin called a flyer for transport to a private airfield just out of Galveston. Charley doubted their impending orbital flight was legally sanctioned by a port authority, but in the circumstances she was prepared to let it slide. No doubt there were plenty of dubious activities to come if she was intent on reviving the Pirate Guild. The flyer let them out in a field of frosted tussocks. Their chartered vessel was a very basic two-man orbital transport, too small to carry a warp drive. The pilot was a craggy old man with one eye. Charley hoped that one eye was good enough. With tightening nerves she was ushered into the rear of the craft, where two brand new air suits hung from the wall. Limited to oxygen flow and short range coms, they were standard affairs. Vin began stripping down immediately, eager to be away. Charley followed his lead, uncomfortable in front of a man she barely knew. A man she found rude and belligerent. She turned away so he wouldn’t see too much. Stepping into the one-piece air suit, she asked Vin to show her how to calibrate the various seals. He folded over her helmet and ensured that her systems were functional. She added her utility belt last. No way she was leaving her weapons.
Fully dressed and prepped, the pair made their way into the cabin and strapped themselves in. The suit granted full flexibility, so there was no problem there, but the helmet made her feel a little claustrophobic. She supposed it would take a while to get used to.As the pair waited, Charley noticed two jetpacks hanging on the wall near the airlock hatch.
“I have no space hours under my belt,” she said to Vin.
He turned with a crooked smile. At the very least she knew her com channel was working.
“I’m experienced,” he said. “I’ll look after you out there. Scout’s honor.”
25
Vin was trying to reassure Charley, but it didn’t come naturally to him. She felt a wave of anxiety as the pilot gunned the engine and had them rising through the fresh morning air. What had she gotten herself into? It sounded well and good to reconnoiter the debris field and jack the scout ship drifting out there, but the reality was sure to be far different. If none of the other guilds were willing to touch this, why the hell was she following a man she barely knew into a potentially lethal situation? Deep down, she already knew the answer - she knew, instinctively, that he was still a pirate. Vin may never admit it, but he was still thinking like one. Going where no one else wanted to. Taking risks for greater glory, greater profits. Charley was sure that this was a classic pirate operation. And that’s why she was there, sitting next to Vin. Because she wanted to set the highest of standards right from the start. She wanted to smash the mission and get another chance to recruit Vin Teks.
The transport soared through the mesosphere and broke orbit with a minimum of fuss. The vessel’s trajectory took it to the far side of Danderly. The Galactic Academy sat out of sight, locked in synchronous orbit. She could see the debris field in the distance. The transport approached the speckled cloud of junk at cruise speed. Vin seemed tense and nervous, probably as much as she was. She hoped he knew what he was doing.
The pilot turned and spoke to the pair.
“This is it for me,” he said, pulling an oxygenator over his nose and mouth. “I’m not getting any closer to that field.”
“Understood,” Vin said, gripping the man’s hand. “I’ll make the final transfer later today.”
The pilot snorted, as if the probability was low. That did nothing for Charley’s confidence. The airlock door opened and with a shock she realized she was staring at naked space. Her body froze. It felt strange to be free of the gentle anchor of gravity. Vin tapped her on the shoulder and indicated he would retrieve her jet pack first. He moved well in zero gravity, which made her feel a little better. The burly ex-pirate fitted her jetpack before seeing to his own. He smiled and winked at Charley before pushing himself confidently through the airlock, jetpack already flaring. She stood on the edge of the abyss, her mind racing. Vin was moving the steerage bars that trailed down from the jetpack.
Heart in her mouth, Charley did as Vin suggested. The vessel began pulling away behind her. She seemed to be heading toward Vin, which was a good enough start.
It was sound advice. Charley moved her steerage bars a little, experimenting with lateral and forward movement. The further she moved a bar, the greater the surge generated by the jetpack. She could move up or down depending on the tilt of the steerage bars. Before long she was executing semi-competent maneuvers and felt confident she could get from A to B without too much trouble.
Spinning gently only ten yards away, Vin produced a extend-able baton no longer than his forearm. Once he’d folded it out it was about seven foot long. Charley took the rigid pole hesitantly, still learning how to remain stationary in zero gravity.
Charley had no argument with that. The debris field was a hazy, multi-colored cloud. The ship they were looking for wasn’t visible. She followed Vin as he propelled himself forward. Chunks of scrap metal from the doomed chemical freighter’s hull drifted past, some at surprising speeds. At first the density of objects was reasonably low, allowing the pair plenty of time to see approaching hazards. Vin drifted under a drum that was slowly spilling its contents into the vacuum of space.
ee, but the vapor had somehow scorched his suit. She checked his air suit and was relieved to give him the all clear. The material had been tested but did not rupture. That was too close.
Vin breathed sigh of relief and continued on his way.
Charley wondered if she’d offended his sense of manliness by saving him. Men could be such dickheads sometimes. The pair worked slowly through the debris field, occasionally turning drums away and assessing the toxic risk of the surrounding area. Pathfinding in its purest form. A wrong turn could easily see them smack in the middle of a toxic funk with the potential to corrode their air suits within seconds. Charley cursed herself for not asking for more money.
At length Vin paused and handed a pair of field nocs to Charley. At first all she could see was junk, but there, behind a blood red veil of toxic vapor, lay a small ship. The scout. The nocs had picked up the outline using radar waves.
Vin said with a slightly crazy grin.
Charley replied.
Vin checked his wrist pad nervously.
Charley considered the situation. To go around that toxic plume would take at least twenty minutes. She nodded, but only because she suspected Vin had already made his mind up.
Charley felt a little better with that plan, but the gallantry didn’t sound natural coming from Vin’s mouth.
26
It was the first time he’d used her name. It gave her a weird thrill, no matter how many times she told herself he was a grumpy, taciturn thug. Vin surged toward the toxic plume, his jetpack flaring white and blue with every burst of power. And then he was through, his body indistinct in the haze. Charley waited until she couldn’t see him anymore before setting off. She let go of the pole reluctantly, steadily building speed. By the time she hit the plume she was flying. Strangling her fear, she hurtled through the kaleidoscopic nightmare. The cloud was filled with drifting corpses. All the poor souls that were asphyxiated by their fall from the freighter. Charley tried not to dwell on their presence as she made for the far side of the plume.
Charley obeyed, alarmed at how close she came to barreling straight into a razor sharp hull fragment. She continued on, aiming for the blinking light she assumed was Vin’s jetpack. Her comrade was staring in awe at the vessel before them. Drifting on its side, the scout looked in near-pristine condition. An amazing sight in such a lethal debris field. She could tell it was a long range craft from the warp propulsion unit at the rear. Otherwise it was relatively simple, featuring a small living area mid deck and a two-man cockpit. There were twin lasers mounted underneath the hull but they looked fairly useless.
Charley said in a flat tone, put out by his use of the word ‘I’. Seemed like he really did want to go his own way after the operation was over.
Charley followed Vin to the rear of the craft where he found a rectangular panel under the fuel cell array. Sliding the panel open revealed a keypad. Vin placed a small cylindrical device above the various symbols. It began scrolling through reams of data on its digital readout.
Vin explained.
Charley held her tongue. Vin was clearly skilled in areas that could really help her fledgling Pirate Guild. If only he wanted to join. They watched the unscrambler as it revealed the hatch code number by number. In normal circumstances the scout would’ve registered a breach of security to the mother freighter, which then might’ve sent a team of mercs their way. Out here in the middle of a toxic debris field, the cheap security system wasn’t going to stop them from commandeering the vessel. The keypad glowed green. Vin pointed to the roof and they climbed up a service ladder. The top hatch was open. Vin climbed through and lifted Charley down. He secured the hatch and they both removed their helmets. The look on his face could only be described as pure, unadulterated joy. Like a kid in a candy store. Caught up in the moment, he planted a hard kiss on her lips. It was an innocent kiss, one of relief more than anything else. As such, Charley knew she didn’t need to respond. But she wondered what Vin would think if she did. Letting the moment pass, she sat beside him in the cockpit.
“These lasers might be fucking lame,” he observed, “but we can blast our way out.”
Charley grinned as Vin blasted away a thick hull sheet just to demonstrate. He accelerated slowly, weaving in between pieces of gnarled junk. On more than one occasion he blasted a chemical drum out of the way. The scout responded well to his movements - it was clearly a fluid and agile ship. If Vin could kit it out with weapons, it might even become a handy vessel to travel in.
The scout emerged from the debris field in a matter of minutes. It was such a relief to leave in the vessel rather than having to jetpack through the hazardous field a second time.
“How much air did we have left in the suits?” Charley asked.
“If we failed to break in to this thing, well …”
Charley didn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.
“You’re a confident man, aren’t you Vin?”
The thug snorted. “Look at my old man. It’s in the genes.”
Charley had to agree there. She settled back in her chair as Vin plotted a course for Danderly’s northern hemisphere. A ping resonated from the ship’s nav system.
“What is it?” she asked, her stomach tightening.
“Bandit vessel, inbound at 453-95. Fucking Night Runners.”
Cold fear grasped at Charley’s throat. She drew her blasters.
Vin nodded in approval. “They were watching us. Waiting on the edge like fucking hyenas. Worse, they know there’s only two of us. Nothing at all to stop them from claiming the ship.”
Trying not to panic, Charley lined up a series of colored pellets on the dashboard.
“Silverton’s?” Vin asked, his eyes lighting up. “You really are old-school.”
“I got a plan,” Charley said. “Long shot, but you only live once, eh?”
Vin looked her in the eye. It was as if he was truly seeing her for the first time.
“Now you’re beginning to talk like him,” he said softly.
“Not just a pretty face,” Charley said crisply, feeling a fresh tension between them. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, either.
“Listen,” she said. “I don’t know much, but I do know that a pirate never surrenders.”
“Damn straight,” Vin said.
“So we blow this scout ourselves,” Charley said. “Two of these explosive pellets should do it.”
“After everything we went through to get here?” Vin asked incredulously. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“Maybe a little,” Charley admitted. “How many bandits you think?”
Vin consulted the nav projection. The enemy vessel was a modified heavy fighter known as an Armadillo. It had all the brute firepower of a military fighter, with two extra storage bays down back for loot. Tough, agile, powerful and loot-capable, it scored highly on most counts. The only flaws were a lack of genuine speed and enough bulk to allow for proper combat shields. Still, it was a formidable proposition and way beyond the m
odest fighting abilities of the scout.
“There wouldn’t be any less than five men on that ship,” Vin said. “They’re confident they can subdue us and be on their way in no time. Typically cocky Night Runners.”
“Let them come,” Charley said firmly. She was beginning to feel her fear melt away. To be replaced by anger. Anger that the vast majority of people in the galaxy, including her, had to grind for survival all their lives. So much hard work to get just one opportunity. And yet there was always someone standing ready to take that opportunity away. Fuck that. She wasn’t gonna let these bastards win. They’d been winning for too long. It was time for someone to break the cycle. It was time for someone new.
“Put your fucking helmet on,” she said to Vin, putting her own on. He searched her eyes, then did as he was told.
And with that, she tossed another three red pellets against the aft bulkhead. This time the hull was perforated in several places. Charley and Vin were forced to grab hold of the cabin rail as air was sucked from the cabin. She opened the hatch for good measure. The dashboard came alive with a litany of warning signals.
The Pirate Guild Page 12
