could possibly teach her a few things. That seemed a reasonable way to start. She wasn’t going to get anywhere if she didn’t have a particular survival skill. Besides, she was armed to the teeth. It would be such a waste if she didn’t at least learn how to protect herself properly.
And as for a becoming a pirate? Well, she would at least visit Silverton’s friend and see what happened from there. Seeing the old pirate laid out in his chosen resting place had made her feel strangely flat. Did she really want to be a pirate? What kind of life saw a person feel the need to entomb themselves with their unspent riches? It just seemed like a lonely existence. Then again, Charley didn’t have to follow Silverton’s example to the letter. She could put her own stamp on what it meant to be a pirate. Feeling a little better, she turned on some music and threaded her way north through the gorge. Her nav map suggested there were a string of settlements on the far side of the Dusty Mountains. From there she could swing east in a wide loop to reach Spacetown. Or so she hoped.
The gorge thinned into a tricky descent. The path was jagged and perilous as it spiraled back down to the northern plains. Charley took the road carefully, glad that the D23 was built for exactly this type of terrain. Within three hours she had negotiated the worst of the downward run and was cruising through rolling foothills once more.
“You need fuel, baby,” cooed FIGJAM from his position on the backseat. “This desert has sucked your titties dry.”
“Thanks for the report, asshole,” Charley muttered, but the PalBot was right. One of these northern outputs had better have some fuel or she was toast. She couldn’t bear the thought of trying to scrounge another transport.
The first of the settlements she encountered was just a fineli transfer station. Fineli were large birds that ran the salt pans in this part of the world. They were farmed for their rather dry and stringy meat.
Charley pressed on, hoping to have more luck at the next town. Ondego had what looked to be a fuel depot, but it was manned by a bunch of men with the predatory look of gangers. No thanks. Since Charley wasn’t able to switch off the D23 without losing Tando’s activation, she didn’t want to turn her back on the thing with men like that hanging around. With fuel running desperately low, Charley rolled into a small fuel depot that looked abandoned. It turned out to be a family operation. An elderly lady with a freakish set of teeth loaded a few rusty looking fuel cells while her husband assaulted Charley with his breath. Charley passed on one of Silverton’s jade trinkets for the fuel. It was overs but she was keen to be on the road again. She also bought a drum of water and some tarbor jerky. It was a concentrated protein that would keep her going until she got to Spacetown.
Charley drove until dusk settled. It was well known that driving on the salt pans at night was a dangerous activity. Too many bandits and sand skinks.
Charley rolled to a halt under a lonely mesa and killed her lights.
“Is this where we fuck?” FIGJAM asked solemnly as Charley pushed the driver’s seat back and prepared to sleep.
“Play your cards right and you won’t be left in pieces on the fucking salt pan,” she snarled, tempted to simply turn the thing off.
“Fine, have it your way,” the robot muttered.
Charley closed her eyes and dreamed of what she would find once she finally lifted off this hellhole. Presently a rustling sound drew her attention. It was rhythmic and close.
“FIGJAM?” she asked nervously. “Are you trying to jerk off!?”
“Just getting comfortable,” came the defensive reply.
“You do know you don’t have any sexual organs, right?”
The PalBot snorted. “Semantics,” it said with a sad tone.
Charley shook her head in wonder and rolled over. Amazingly, the throb of the prop bulb felt comforting and she was asleep within a minute.
The dawn
And as for a becoming a pirate? Well, she would at least visit Silverton’s friend and see what happened from there. Seeing the old pirate laid out in his chosen resting place had made her feel strangely flat. Did she really want to be a pirate? What kind of life saw a person feel the need to entomb themselves with their unspent riches? It just seemed like a lonely existence. Then again, Charley didn’t have to follow Silverton’s example to the letter. She could put her own stamp on what it meant to be a pirate. Feeling a little better, she turned on some music and threaded her way north through the gorge. Her nav map suggested there were a string of settlements on the far side of the Dusty Mountains. From there she could swing east in a wide loop to reach Spacetown. Or so she hoped.
The gorge thinned into a tricky descent. The path was jagged and perilous as it spiraled back down to the northern plains. Charley took the road carefully, glad that the D23 was built for exactly this type of terrain. Within three hours she had negotiated the worst of the downward run and was cruising through rolling foothills once more.
“You need fuel, baby,” cooed FIGJAM from his position on the backseat. “This desert has sucked your titties dry.”
“Thanks for the report, asshole,” Charley muttered, but the PalBot was right. One of these northern outputs had better have some fuel or she was toast. She couldn’t bear the thought of trying to scrounge another transport.
The first of the settlements she encountered was just a fineli transfer station. Fineli were large birds that ran the salt pans in this part of the world. They were farmed for their rather dry and stringy meat.
Charley pressed on, hoping to have more luck at the next town. Ondego had what looked to be a fuel depot, but it was manned by a bunch of men with the predatory look of gangers. No thanks. Since Charley wasn’t able to switch off the D23 without losing Tando’s activation, she didn’t want to turn her back on the thing with men like that hanging around. With fuel running desperately low, Charley rolled into a small fuel depot that looked abandoned. It turned out to be a family operation. An elderly lady with a freakish set of teeth loaded a few rusty looking fuel cells while her husband assaulted Charley with his breath. Charley passed on one of Silverton’s jade trinkets for the fuel. It was overs but she was keen to be on the road again. She also bought a drum of water and some tarbor jerky. It was a concentrated protein that would keep her going until she got to Spacetown.
Charley drove until dusk settled. It was well known that driving on the salt pans at night was a dangerous activity. Too many bandits and sand skinks.
Charley rolled to a halt under a lonely mesa and killed her lights.
“Is this where we fuck?” FIGJAM asked solemnly as Charley pushed the driver’s seat back and prepared to sleep.
“Play your cards right and you won’t be left in pieces on the fucking salt pan,” she snarled, tempted to simply turn the thing off.
“Fine, have it your way,” the robot muttered.
Charley closed her eyes and dreamed of what she would find once she finally lifted off this hellhole. Presently a rustling sound drew her attention. It was rhythmic and close.
“FIGJAM?” she asked nervously. “Are you trying to jerk off!?”
“Just getting comfortable,” came the defensive reply.
“You do know you don’t have any sexual organs, right?”
The PalBot snorted. “Semantics,” it said with a sad tone.
Charley shook her head in wonder and rolled over. Amazingly, the throb of the prop bulb felt comforting and she was asleep within a minute.
The dawn
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