Girl of Fire: The Expulsion Project Book One (A Science Fiction Dystopian Thriller)

by Norma Hinkens

  “There they are!” Buir points up ahead.

  I squint at the figures in the distance. Five figures. My heart sinks. “They have a hostage. Probably one of the guards. This complicates things.”

  “Are you sure you want to intervene?” Buir mutters. “Maybe we should get help.”

  “They’re not armed,” I say, “but we are.” I gesture over my shoulder at our spears lying in the bed of the LunaTrekker.

  Moments later, we reach the fleeing oremongers. I veer past them and cut them off. “You forgot your passengers,” I say, jumping out and grabbing my spear.

  Sarth shoves the bound guard in front of her, holding a knife to his neck. It’s Meldus. Only sixteen, he is one of my father’s younger and more inexperienced guards. I grimace. No wonder Sarth wasn’t too worried about her impending execution. Somehow, she managed to conceal the knife from the guards when they arrested her. She probably grabbed Meldus through the slats, like she grabbed me, and forced the other guards to unlock the door before they fled to the caves. A shiver runs across my shoulders. There was nothing to stop her putting a knife to my neck earlier.

  An ugly grin spreads across Sarth’s face. “I thought we’d seen the last of you two. Shouldn’t you be running like rats to the caves like the rest of your clan?”

  “We had a deal,” I say. “I stand by my word.”

  Sarth sniffs. “Deal expired. I don’t need you anymore.”

  “Release the guard,” I say. “He has no part in this.”

  “Not until we’re safely on board.”

  I tighten my grip on my spear.

  In return, Sarth jabs the knife further into Meldus’s neck. Ghil and Nipper step forward, fists clenched, the resolve of desperate men in their eyes. Velkan tilts his head questioningly at me as I wrestle with my decision. Putting Meldus’s life at risk wasn’t a part of my plan. And we’re wasting valuable time with a Mauler ship headed our way. I’ll have to back down and go along with Sarth for now.

  “All right.” I toss my spear into the bed of the LunaTrekker and slide back into the driver’s seat. “We’ll deliver you to your ship. But as soon as we’re on board, the guard goes free.”

  Sarth yanks Meldus toward the vehicle and forces him into the back seat. Velkan and the other oremongers climb in beside him. Sarth walks around to the driver seat. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Reluctantly, I slide over beside Buir and let Sarth take the wheel. I have to let her think she’s in charge until Meldus is safe. Maybe it’s for the best that her hands are on the controller. Less chance of her trying to pull a fast one if she’s driving.

  Buir and I trade sober glances when we pass the deserted settlement. The doors to the abandoned Great Hall swing back and forth in the wind. The stalls along the boulevard are replete with fresh wares; meat hanging from hooks, astro fruit piled high in crates. No one risked taking the time to pack anything up. Without ships and weapons, we have no chance of staving off the Maulers, and my father knows it.

  Minutes later, the Zebulux looms in front of us. Sarth brakes hard and then changes gear abruptly. She drives slowly up the docking ramp and parks the LunaTrekker to one side of the dingy cargo bay. The oremongers jump out and secure the vehicle to the floor with cables. Sarth nods in my direction. “This is where we part ways.” She throws a tarp over the dargonite in the bed of the LunaTrekker. “Take the guard with you.”

  Meldus throws me a relieved look, scrambles out from the back seat, and turns to exit the ship.

  A horrendous clang echoes through the chamber of the ship, sending him flying. He falls awkwardly, hands still bound behind him, and his head slams into the metal floor knocking him unconscious. Velkan staggers over to a control pad on the wall and a moment later, the massive ramp retracts, closing out the light of Cwelt.

  “Start her up!” Sarth yells. Ghil and Nipper race down a flight of stairs to the engine room.

  “What’s happening?” Buir asks, in a panicked voice.

  “Maulers,” Sarth announces grimly. “They’re shooting long-range plasma rockets to clear the area before they make a landing.”

  Another round hits the hull of the ship throwing me back against the LunaTrekker. I scrabble to get a grip and pull myself upright. “Can’t you fire back?” I yell to Sarth.

  “Wouldn’t do any good. We don’t have that kind of firepower. Time we were out of here. The Zebulux is a tough old bird, but she’s no combat ship.” She turns and jogs up the stairway to the flight deck.

  “We promised Meldus we’d let him go,” I say to Velkan.

  “Nothing we can do now.” Velkan reaches for the metal handrail on the stairway. “If we open that door we’ll all die. I’ve got to help Sarth. Get him up to the control room as quickly as you can. All the way down the hallway.”

  I stagger over to Meldus and with Buir’s assistance drag him onto a pile of tarps.

  Strip lights flicker around the docking bay. A look of sheer terror passes over Buir’s face as the ship begins to vibrate.

  I swallow hard and give her hand a reassuring squeeze. Even though I’m grateful she’s here with me, I wish she were someplace safe. If we take a direct hit, we won’t even make it out of Cwelt’s atmosphere.

  Meldus groans as he slowly comes around. He blinks up at me, his body tensing as he pieces together where he is. His eyes dart left and right. “We need to get off the ship.”

  “It’s too late for that,” I say. “We’re under attack by Maulers.”

  “No!” Meldus struggles to sit up. “We have to get to the caves … your father …” He looks at me, confusion flooding his face.

  “We had no choice but to close up the ramp when the Maulers started firing,” I say. “We have to get out of here before they come any closer.”

  Meldus stares at me with a frozen look of horror on his face, as if wrestling with the reality that he isn’t getting off this ship, that he’s leaving Cwelt with Sarth and her crew, and that he’s the chieftain’s daughter’s sole protector now.

  “We’re coming back,” I promise him.

  “Unless we’re intercepted by a Syndicate patrol.” Buir points to the back of the cargo bay.

  I twist my head and peer into the shadows.

  The torpor vats are still here!

  8

  The Zebulux lifts off with a G-force that sends my breath down to the pit of my stomach. I feel like all the blood is being sucked from my head. Buir’s eyes bulge with fear as she hugs a nearby crate to steady herself. Meldus is huddled against one of the wheels of the secured LunaTrekker.

  “We have to get up to the flight deck,” I yell to them. “It’s not safe here.” Especially not with those torpor vats so close to us. I shiver when I think of what will happen if we take a hit and one of them explodes. The last thing we need is frozen eyeballs staring up at us from the loading dock floor. Buir’s already on the edge of spiraling into a full-blown panic attack.

  Meldus fixes a stricken gaze on the sealed cargo door. “We’re dead.”

  “Not yet. Last I checked, you were still breathing!” I rest a firm hand on his shoulder. “Time to move!”

  He blinks back into action, the authoritative tone in my voice registering somewhere deep inside the vacancy in his eyes.

  The ship’s thrusters strain as it banks hard to maneuver along a trajectory leading us out of range of the plasma rockets. I help Meldus to his feet and we stagger across to the stairway. The ship dips again, presumably to evade another missile, and we wrap our arms around the handrail and cling to it tightly until we level out once more.

  “Hurry!” I yell back to Buir who’s still hugging the crate. She throws me a petrified look before letting go and dashing across the bay to the stairs.

  When we finally make it to the upper deck, we sway like drunks down the utility corridor to the door marked control room. Relief washes over me at the pneumatic hiss of the doors sliding apart.

  Inside, Velkan and Sarth are seated side by side in two large,
well-worn bucket seats taped together at the seams. Screens flicker cryptically all around them, a low humming drones in the background. Neither one turns a head when we lurch toward the fold-up chairs behind them and strap ourselves in.

  “Has the hull been breached?” Buir gasps.

  Velkan twists around in his seat and grins. “No direct blasts, thanks to some skillful handling on our part. Seals are tight due to the heat-shielding tiles. The Zebulux may not be pretty, but she was built to last.”

  “Won’t they come after us?” I ask.

  Sarth grunts, her back to me. “Maulers have no interest in chasing down a worthless oremonger’s vessel. They’re focused on invasion. I’m more worried about salvage hunters. They’d sell this old beast for parts if they got their hands on it.” She lets out an unflattering snort. “But that won’t be a problem for much longer. Once we trade that dargonite on Aristozonex, I’ll be outfitting this mining operation with a state-of-space new freighter with shields.”

  “So we’re heading straight to Aristozonex?” I say.

  “Not unless you want to run out of fuel halfway there,” Sarth replies.

  “We passed a fueling port on the old trade route we came along,” Velkan explains. “We’re taking a quick detour there first.”

  “How long before we reach Aristozonex?” I press.

  Velkan shrugs. “A few days, if all goes according to plan. But it rarely does.”

  I frown. “You mean … Maulers?”

  “Maulers, solar storms, mechanical problems. But yes, Maulers are our biggest threat. We’ll have to avoid the eastern arterial trade route, and that will delay us a day or two.”

  I sink back in my seat and stare at the floor. Realistically, it could take weeks to secure a deal with a buyer, and after that, I still need to procure a ship. And someone to captain it. At least until I get up to speed. I study the back of Sarth’s bald head. Maybe I could persuade her to sell Velkan to me. After all, she’s about to become a very rich trader. She could afford to hire a captain and a full crew for her new ship. Why would she want to hold on to a serf?

  “It could be a month or so before we make it back to Cwelt,” I say to Buir and Meldus.

  “Our people have enough supplies to survive underground for at least three months,” Meldus says. “The caves are stocked and habitable.”

  “A month isn’t too bad then, is it?” Buir’s eyes sweep my face for reassurance. “We’ll be back to rescue them long before they run out of food.”

  I give a distracted nod. If all goes according to plan.

  We fall silent as the adrenalin slowly leaks from us, the steady thrum of the engine lulling us into a hypnotic state. I look around, taking note of the compact layout of the control room. I know what every piece of equipment on the console is used for, but I haven’t seen any of it in operation before, and I’m fascinated by every blinking light and screen. I picture myself setting a course on the nav system, adjusting the flight controller, banking, dipping, steering the Zebulux through a sea of asteroids, racing through arid canyons, streaking away from Mauler projectiles at the speed of—

  I jolt out of my trance when Sarth yawns loudly.

  “Where are we?” I ask, jerking upright in my seat to peer through the viewport. A vast expanse of glittering stars and moons draped in gauzy film fills the screen. My breathing quiets in sync with the silence of the scene. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, and never felt so small. I’m staring through a peephole into a universe with no beginning and no end. I reach for my bracelet and twist it between my fingers as a familiar ache rises inside me. How can I ever find my place in something this large?

  “We’re well out of Cwelt’s atmosphere,” Velkan says. “And out of range of the Maulers.”

  Sarth stretches in her seat and turns to Velkan. “Go down to the galley and tell Ghil to make me up a plate of food. I’ve programmed our trajectory for the next several hours on autopilot, but I’ll keep watch up here a bit longer, just to be safe.”

  Velkan gestures at us. “What about them?”

  Sarth blows out a disdainful breath. “Take them with you. I’m tired of them yakking in my ear. And show them where they can bunk in one of the extra crew rooms.”

  “Come on.” Velkan tosses a skein of dark hair out of his face. “It’s time you officially meet Ghil and get a taste of what you’re in for. He’s our chef extraordinaire, and Nipper’s our engineer, although how either one of them ever qualified for their position is beyond me.”

  On our way, Velkan points out the extra crew room next door to his—an exact replica of his room, and equally bleak. “Ghil’s in the room on the other side of you, so you’ll probably hear him snoring half the night. Nipper bunks with me. And those are Sarth’s quarters.” Velkan gestures at a steel door on the opposite side of the hallway. “No one goes in or out other than Sarth. She keeps it locked, but don’t let her catch you even hanging around outside the door.”

  I stare at the door for a moment. I wonder what other secrets Sarth is hiding.

  We continue down the utility hallway until we come to the communal area and dining room outfitted with a couple of metal tables surrounded by benches, which are bolted into position on the floor. At the back of the room is a small seating area with a dilapidated couch. Faded paintings of various planetary systems cover the gray metal walls. Someone is whistling loudly inside the adjoining galley, and judging by the amount of clanging and clattering going on, lunch is underway.

  “Ghil!” Velkan hollers.

  The room falls silent. A moment later, the tall, narrow-hipped oremonger with the knot in his neck sticks his head out.

  “Our passengers are hungry for lunch,” Velkan says.

  Ghil casts a resentful glance our way, clearly communicating that we’re unexpected additions to the manifest, and that translates to extra mouths to feed. I need to make sure we get off to a good start, or we may not see our fair share of rations.

  “You sound awfully busy in there.” I tip my head in greeting. “What’s on the menu?”

  He flashes me a treacherous smile and steps out from behind the door, clutching a butcher knife in each hand.

  Meldus moves silently to my side, his training kicking in.

  Buir’s nails dig deep into my arm, and I give a little yelp.

  The grin on Ghil’s face spreads like a river flooding its banks. Without warning, he lets out a whoop and tosses the knives upward with a vertical spin that rotates them several times. Buir screams in my ear as he catches them again by their handles. He pulls a third, smaller knife from his leather boot and adds it to the mix. I watch, mesmerized, as he juggles all three with increasing velocity, finishing up with an under-leg throw. My heart races in my chest, but he nails the final catch unscathed.

  Velkan leans back against the wall, arms crossed, looking amused as he waits for our reaction.

  “Impressive,” I say, trying not to sound overly impressed.

  “Sadly, not an indication of his skill in the kitchen,” Velkan says.

  Ghil glares at him. “But an indication of what I’ll do to anyone who insults my cooking.”

  “Duly noted,” Buir says, releasing my pinched arm. “I’m not too picky.”

  I let out a gasp and quickly cover it up with a cough. This from the girl who dissects everything on her plate and organizes it into reject piles by food type.

  “Sarth wants me to take her a plate when we’re done,” Velkan says.

  Ghil nods. “I’ll give you one to take to Nipper too.”

  Velkan turns to us and gestures to one of the tables. “Sit down. We’ll eat first, and then I’ll take the others their food.”

  Ghil wasn’t kidding about lunch being done. I stare down at the plate of earthen-colored food he sets in front of me. It looks and smells like it was “done” an indeterminate number of days ago. Buir’s face pales several degrees in quick succession when Ghil slaps a plate in front of her.

  “Uh, what—” she begins
.

  “Bean mush,” Ghil snaps, wiping his hands on his filthy apron. I catch a glint of a sheathed knife dangling from his waist. My gut tells me our chef has little training in the culinary arts, but a whole lot of experience wielding knives. If I’m not mistaken, he’s made a recent career change.

  “Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays is bean mush,” Ghil announces with a loud sniff.

  Buir blinks at him, a scarcely-daring-to-hope look in her eyes. “And the other days?”

  “Mash!”

  I raise my brows, knowing better than to ask what the distinction is.

  Confusion, mixed with despair, clouds Buir’s face. “What’s in the … mash?”

  Ghil throws her a look as sharp as his knives. “Leftovers.” He swivels his narrow hips and stomps back into the galley, whistling loudly.

  My mouth drops open. “Is he for real?” I ask Velkan.

  Velkan jabs a fork into his heaped plate of food and cocks his head to one side as if considering the question. “Yeah, except he sometimes cheats and serves leftovers on Fridays too.”

  “Leftovers of what?” I ask. “Doesn’t sound like he ever cooks.”

  “He pretty much gets a pot going at the start of the week and keeps adding to it,” Velkan acknowledges.

  “I can’t eat this stuff.” Buir pushes her plate to one side. “Maybe I can find something else in the kitchen.” She gets to her feet, but, Velkan clamps a hand on her wrist. “No! You don’t go into the galley. Ever. Just like no one goes near Sarth’s quarters.”

  Buir looks affronted. “Why not? I won’t bother Ghil. I’m perfectly capable of making myself something to eat.”

  “Ghil’s overly protective of his territory.” Velkan releases her, a wary look on his face. “The last person who went in there uninvited never came out. At least not in one piece.”

  Buir’s eyes widen to planetary dimensions.