The Space Pirate 1 Read Free Page A

Pistols and blasters that actually worked were rare in Sandflower Downs. It was rumored that Boss Pete himself carried twin pistols on each hip. It was said the pistols’ handles were carved from tarbor tusk. Real fancy like. Charley had only ever seen a gun fired once. A visiting water carrier had dispatched a lurking thief with a bullet to the chest. The kill had seemed so clean, so neat compared to the butchery often committed by the thugs of this town.
    Charley looked at the old, scarred pistol with intense interest. What if it actually worked? Would she have some kind of inferred protection with one of those babies on her hip? The ganger was now standing barely yards away from Charley’s position. She was no master thief but all it would take was a quick, light-fingered move and the dude wouldn’t even know his weapon had been swiped. In the end, the opportunity took hold of Charley and she extended her arm. Little did she know that the decision would set in train a series of events that would change her life forever. She would often look back on this opportunity as the one that not only saved her life but made her the person she always wanted to be.
    Feeling the inspiration of the moment she plucked the pistol from the holster and pulled it into the shade. The dolt’s holster was broken and hadn’t been fastened. Charley held her breath and only breathed out when the gangers walked away. She heard a soft scrabbling sound and turned to see a khaki scorpion emerge from the hole. Those things had lethal stings. With a lurch of fear Charley aimed the pistol and pulled the trigger. Click. The sound was soft but distinct. The scorpion went back into its hole but the gangers stopped in their tracks. Charley’s first thought was that the pistol must’ve been functional - the problem was it had no ammo. That was also a luxury item in Sandflower Downs. What was the point of ammo if there were no guns to be found?
    The ganger Charley had stolen from worked his way back to her hovel. Every instinct screamed at her to escape out the back of the hovel space but something rooted Charley to the spot. The ganger stepped to where he’d been previously, dropping to a crouch to peer under the hovel.
    “Bitch, you got my metal!” he exclaimed through a mouth of few teeth.
    Charley grimaced and immediately began shimmying her way backwards under the hovel. She reached the open dirt out the back and broke into a sprint over the mounds. She careened her way through piles of toxic refuse as the gangers made chase. The sun was already reasonably high and had Charley drenched in sweat in no time at all.
    Breathing hard, Charley tried losing the gangers around corners and through narrow alley ways. It was no use - the gangers were simply too fast. For starters, they wore heavy boots while Charley wore light desert shoes. Little more than slippers, they were no protection against the sharp edges of the corrugated iron fences she leaped over in a frantic effort to escape.
    The gangers had made much ground by the time Charley made it to the edge of town. There was nowhere to hide. Breathless and exhausted, Charley turned to face her pursuers, tossing the pistol to the dirt.
    “Take it,” she said between gasps. “I was only playing around.”
    The ganger retrieved his pistol and sneered at her.
    “Looks like we got some meat for breakfast, boys,” he snarled.
    The gangers approached without stopping. Fear took hold of Charley and for the first time she realized she was in dire straits. She couldn’t call on any of her brothers - they had dispersed throughout the far side of town and wouldn’t be seen again til sundown. That was assuming they’d lift a finger to help her. These gangers, many of whom were younger than Charley, looked like vicious little motherfuckers.
    All she could do was head further out into the arid salt pans and hope like hell that the gangers got too hot and bothered to continue.

4
     
    Already feeling roasted