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

by Norma Hinkens

Velkan winks in my direction. “Rumor has it he was in the mash that week.”

  Buir lets loose with an anguished scream.

  I fall to one side, laughing so hard that tears run down my face.

  Buir turns to unleash her fury on Velkan just as the doors slide apart and Sarth walks in.

  “Hate to break up the party,” she says, the look on her face clearly indicating otherwise, “but I ordered lunch a half hour ago.”

  Velkan jumps to his feet. “Ghil’s making your plate right now.”

  Sarth swings a leg over the bench I’m sitting on and slides in next to me. “Nipper’s watching the flight deck for a few minutes. I’ll eat here now.”

  Velkan walks over to the galley entry and reaches for the plate Ghil quickly loads up.

  “Mush or mash?” Sarth asks, raising a quizzical brow at Velkan as he sets it in front of her.

  He hesitates, pretending to ponder the question. “Definitely got more of a mush tang going on today,” he announces.

  Sarth grunts, then shovels down several mouthfuls in quick succession. She throws a glance across at our plates and narrows her eyes at Buir. “Something wrong with your food?”

  Buir gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Not that hungry.”

  “My ship, my rules,” Sarth says. “We don’t waste food, ever. You waste a meal, I cut your rations for a week.”

  Buir pulls the plate gingerly toward her, looking like she might gag at any minute.

  Sarth turns her attention to me, chewing noisily as her beady eyes scrutinize my hair up close. “We’ll be at the fueling port in another hour. Ghil will pick up a few supplies to tide us over until we reach the Aristozonex, and I have some business to take care of. Shouldn’t take but a couple of hours to fuel up and get what we need. You can look around the port if you want, but I won’t wait if you’re late. Meldus can stay with Nipper and keep an eye on the ship.”

  “What about IDs?”

  “The Syndicate issues everyone with CipherSyncs. It’s an ID and communication device all in one that can be worn on the wrist or around your neck. It connects you to the StellarNet and handles credit transfers too. I’ll hustle you up some on the dark market. But you don’t need them at a fueling port. You get an automatic twenty-four-hour pass. So long as you’re not holographed as a serf, you’re free to come and go as you please.”

  My heart leaps. Maybe I’ll have a chance to find out something about my bracelet before I reach Aristozonex. “In that case, I’ll visit the vendor stalls.”

  Sarth shrugs. “It’s the same junk they sell at every solar shop chain in every port. The real shopping is on Aristozonex.” Her lips curl into a satisfied smile. “And that’s where I’ll be going as soon as we strike a deal on that dargonite.”

  I twirl the chain around my neck between my fingers. If it turns out the bracelets are common merchandise sold everywhere in the galaxy, then I’ll have no way to trace them. But if no one’s seen anything like them before, it will be an indication that they’re only made on the planet Velkan and I are from.

  Sarth shoves her plate aside. “Time I checked up on Nipper. Last time I left him alone in the control room, we almost clipped an asteroid.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I say. “You promised to teach me how to operate the ship. Now’s as good a time as any to start.”

  Her lips twitch in amusement. “That deal’s null and void. You’re only on board this ship because the dang Maulers didn’t give me enough time to toss you off.”

  “I’ll double your split of the dargonite,” I say. “And you can have a share of the mining rights on Cwelt.”

  She wipes her mouth carefully on her sleeve, studying me for a minute and then slaps the table. “Double it is!” She turns to Velkan. “Go down to the engine room and start prepping for landing. Stay there until Nipper gets back, then cover those vats up with netting again.” She gestures dismissively at Meldus. “And take that mute with you and show him how it’s done. Maybe he’ll do a better job in the engine room than Nipper.”

  She nods to me and I climb out over the bench.

  Buir gets to her feet to follow us.

  Sarth wags a fat finger at her, grinning. “You can stay here and help Ghil clean up.”

  Buir’s lips part but no sound comes out.

  I frown. “She doesn’t have to—”

  “Is there something about, my ship, my orders, that was unclear?” Sarth growls.

  “It’s fine.” Buir splays her hand to placate me. “Don’t worry, Ghil doesn’t intimidate me half as much as his cooking.”

  Sarth cocks an amused brow at her and then exits the room.

  I leave Buir stacking the dirty dishes and follow Sarth back up the corridor to the control room.

  Inside, I slip into the co-pilot seat and secure my harness. With only an hour to go before we reach the fuel port, Sarth wastes no time getting into the mechanics of piloting the Zebulux. Everything about operating the ship fascinates me, and I ply her with questions. “So, firing the auxiliary thrusters is enough to course correct if we deviate from our trajectory?”

  “For normal flight iterations, but not enough for the maneuvers I had to perform to evade the Maulers’ rockets earlier.” She throws me a curious look. “How do you know so much about spaceship technology and the geography of the intergalactic quadrants?”

  “Education is highly prized on Cwelt,” I say. “My father acquired a vast collection of Syndicate EduPlex reference materials for our studies from traders. And we have several wrecked space vessels. I know what every part of the ship is called and what it’s used for.”

  She grunts and fiddles with the controls. “Let’s go over the landing sequence. We’re only fifteen minutes out.”

  Despite the powerful rushing sound of the thrusters as we begin a steep descent, Sarth’s approach into the fueling station is smooth and steady, and I’m forced to admire her ability to steer the unwieldy Zebulux into a graceful landing. I’m so focused on the bustling fuel station through the viewport that I don’t spot the knife in Sarth’s hand until it’s too late.

  9

  I jerk sideways in my seat, but I can’t get far enough out of range before Sarth grabs me by my hair and swings the knife. When she releases me, I stare in bewilderment at the long red lock of my hair she clutches in her fist. My fingers fly instinctively to the hacked strands dangling awkwardly across my left cheek.

  I scramble to release my harness. “What did you do that for?” I yell as I jump up and back away, shaking and confused, and immensely relieved that she didn’t slit my throat.

  “You know more than you should about my cargo,” she says in a dark undertone, surveying the red lock of hair as she rubs it between her fingers. “If you turn me in and run, this will be evidence you were in on it with me.”

  My breathing is still ragged, but I try to act nonchalant. “Fine, if you’re that paranoid. Next time, ask first.”

  A scathing smile plays on Sarth’s lips. “You’d best remember I own everything on board this ship.” She turns her attention back to the ship’s controls. “You have exactly two hours to be back on board.”

  “You don’t own my share of the dargonite, remember that!” I shout at her and then stomp out of the control room without a backward glance. It was a clever move on her part. And a wake-up call for me. There is no understanding between us. We’re partners on the dargonite by default, not by choice, and that means Sarth doesn’t trust me and she can’t be trusted either. I weave my hair into a thick braid as I make my way back to the galley to look for Buir. The short strands bob at the side of my face like a nagging reminder that the world beyond Cwelt is fraught with the art of treachery, and I have yet to learn its ways.

  To my surprise, Buir is seated at the dining table, elbows propped up, engrossed in conversation with Ghil. Judging by the animated look on his face, and his chapped hands flailing in every direction, he’s thoroughly enjoying regaling her with whatever tale he’s telling. I splay my han
d in greeting as I step inside. Ghil stops mid-sentence and hefts an unruly brow at me. “Kitchen’s closed.”

  “That’s a relief.” I barely suppress an eye roll, before turning to Buir. “Sarth’s given us a couple of hours to look around the port while they refuel and pick up supplies.”

  Ghil narrows his eyes. “Buir’s busy.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but Buir gives a subtle shake of her head. “Ghil and I worked up some new menu ideas. I’ll go with him to buy the supplies we need for the galley.”

  “All right,” I say with some reluctance. “Guess I’ll see you back on board.” I was looking forward to sharing the adventure of our first outing on another planet together, but I don’t want to dissuade her if she’s managed to persuade Ghil to expand the menu—there’s a good chance Buir would starve to death on his original meal plan.

  I leave the two of them to take inventory of the galley supplies and make my way down to the cargo bay just as the loading ramp opens up to a view of the teeming port. My eyes dart left and right struggling to absorb the sensory overload in one panoramic sweep. Several merchant ships of varying sizes are docked around the fuel hub. A neon hologram overhead flashes constantly changing fuel prices and fleet discounts. Maintenance workers dressed in grease-stained overalls and clutching wrenches are busy at work on the hull of one of the ships. Attendants in blue tunics monitor the pumps, reporting available slots to the control tower via their earpieces. The throbbing of engines and the smell of fumes is overwhelming.

  I startle when Velkan walks up behind me. “Come to watch the Zebulux refueling?”

  “Actually, I was about to take a stroll around the vendors’ stalls. Do you want to come with me?”

  He gives a rueful smile. “The fuel hub’s as far as a holographed serf can go. They won’t let me past the security gate. Everything I know about the Syndicate planets is what Ghil tells me. He likes to talk plenty and I’m a good listener.”

  I frown. “I forgot about that. I was hoping I could find out something about our bracelets.”

  Velkan’s face clouds over. “Be careful. There are a lot of shady dealers at these isolated ports. A nifty sleight of hand and your bracelet might disappear right before your eyes.”

  “I won’t take it off the chain. If someone tries to steal it, they’ll have to take me too.”

  Velkan laughs. “Then they’ll get more than they bargained for. And so will you, once you step outside. Ever seen a cyborg before?”

  I shrug. “I know what they are. I’ve read about them.”

  “You mean who they are. Nothing to be alarmed about. They’re just people with mechanical parts, but it can be a bit disconcerting at first.”

  “How do they end up like that?”

  “Some choose to become enhanced—the middle class on Aristozonex for example. It’s cheaper than cell regeneration and the results last longer too. Others have been repaired with aftermarket organs and limbs, especially after industrial accidents. It’s syndicate law. All companies are obligated to underwrite the cost of rebuilding injured workers.”

  A shiver crosses my shoulders. “Sounds creepy.”

  “Not as creepy as androids.” Velkan grins. “You may not run into any this far from Aristozonex, but in the event you do, they’re not technically people. Although the new humanoid simulation chips can make it difficult to tell the difference.”

  “Anything else I should be aware of before I venture out?”

  “Empty your pockets of any trash. The fueling stations are forced to comply with strict Syndicate environmental regulations.” Velkan tilts his head in contemplation. “And don’t act interested if you want to buy anything. The vendors will jack the prices sky high as soon as they know you’re in the market.”

  I laugh. “That won’t be a problem, I don’t have any credits to buy anything with.”

  Velkan eyes my shamskin. “Most vendors will barter. A cloak like that should fetch a few credits.” His face softens. “Sure you’re okay venturing out alone.”

  “Of course. I can defend myself. Where’s Meldus?”

  “He’s helping Nipper in the auxiliary engine room. We need to take care of a few things while we are in port.” He reaches out and brushes his fingers over the chunk of loose hair dangling over my face. “What happened here?”

  I suck in a breath at his unexpected touch. “Sarth decided she needed some fire insurance.” I gesture at the covered vats. “She’s afraid I’ll turn her in for transporting illegal cargo.”

  Velkan’s eyes flicker with anger. “The woman’s a brute.”

  “Just don’t let her take off without me,” I say. “I don’t trust her.”

  “She isn’t planning on leaving you behind,” Velkan says. “Not if she took a lock of your hair.”

  He watches with an air of sadness as I walk down the ramp and exit the ship. He’s pretty much a prisoner on it, other than when the Zebulux is mining on the fringe planets. I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow up without knowing a day of freedom. The thought lies heavy on me. I want to help him, but the only way I know how is to purchase him from Sarth, and that doesn’t sit right with me either.

  I stride toward the security gate at the far end of the platform, trying to pass myself off as someone who’s fueled up at hundreds of ports. Despite my laid-back stride, several people turn in my direction and rake a gaze over me in passing. It’s not hard to guess why they’re staring. My red hair stands out like a neon hologram in a sea of black and brown and blond tones, and my shamskin confirms that I’m not a frequent traveler to these parts, or at all. Most of the people milling around me are dressed in neutral-colored tunics designed for practicality. Thankfully, I’m used to being the center of attention, so their curious glances don’t phase me. I’m not the only oddity here. Several cyborgs mingle among the crowd and one or two questionable humans that might very well be androids. I imagine Buir is attracting a fair amount of attention too, wherever she is.

  I keep weaving steadily through the crowd in the direction of the metal exit gates. Just beyond the barrier, I see vendor stalls, crowded one on top of the other, and a steady stream of people moving up and down the street. I join the back of the line at the nearest security gate and study the list of items prohibited from entering the port; weapons and ammunition, illegal substances, livestock, holographed serfs. My stomach knots. I know what it’s like to be different, but not to be excluded like an animal or something dangerous to the public. If this is how the Syndicate planets outside Aristozonex operate, I dread to think what kind of society exists within its borders. I take my turn at walking through the scanner and dutifully hold out my hand for a holographic reentry stamp.

  “You have twenty-four hours before it disappears,” the guard says, zapping the back of my hand. “No reentry after that without a term permit.”

  I nod and proceed out the exit gate, merging into the throng of people on the main thoroughfare. I have no idea what a term permit is, but I won’t be needing one anyway. Sarth has only given us a couple of hours.

  The relentless clamor of vendors yelling out one time only special offers to passersby, and the hustle and bustle of bodies pressing in on me from every direction, are terrifying at first, but I move with the flow and my fascination soon overtakes my fear. I scan the stalls as I go by, my pulse quickening in anticipation. It’s a long shot, but I can’t help hoping that someone here will recognize my bracelet.

  The first stall I approach sports a strange mishmash of metal jewelry and decorative items built from recycled parts, many of which I don’t recognize, but it’s the elderly vendor himself who catches my attention. He’s wearing a metal cast over his nose, and I immediately think cyborg. My suspicions are confirmed when his left eye whirs and focuses in on me with the unerring accuracy of a camera lens. I flinch beneath his penetrating gaze.

  “What can I do the traveling lady for?” he wheedles, beaming at me from behind the table.

  “Depends on what you
’re selling,” I say, casting a bored glance over his wares.

  His eye whirs again and I’m almost certain he’s zooming in on my hair. A puzzled look flits across his forehead. He scans my cloak more closely, and a flicker of comprehension registers in his one real eye. “First trip out of the fringe, yes?” he says, getting to his feet.

  I nod, mesmerized at the claw that reaches out and swoops up a metal box from the table.

  “Then you need souvenir to mark occasion.” He holds the box out for my inspection.

  I frown down at it. “What is it?”

  “This,” he says in a hushed tone, as he leans toward me, “is genuine antique float chamber from Syndicate’s first generation of ships.”

  I reach out my hand to touch it and he whips it back protectively.

  “Very valuable antique,” he adds, giving me a knowing look. “A rare find these days.” He traces a curved finger over the cylinder with his left hand. “But for you, I make a bargain.”

  I pull a face. “What would I do with it? It’s too rusted up to be of any use.”

  He works his wrinkled lips in and out as if assessing the situation. “You don’t know what antique is, yes? This float chamber has been—”

  “Don’t listen to a word he says!” the obese vendor sitting at the neighboring stall wheezes. “Lies, lies, and more lies!” He waddles over, huffing between steps. “All he sells is junk!” He pulls something out of his jacket and sucks on it for a moment before continuing in a stronger voice. “Let me offer a woman of your impeccable taste something more appealing.” He slings a sweaty arm across my shoulder and escorts me with a firm grip over to his stall. “Asteroid scrubs, magnetic perfumes—atomic body oils are the latest craze. I carry every scent in the solar system at discounted prices.”

  I wriggle out from under his grasp, trying not to look repulsed.

  He studies my hair for a moment. “You have such an exotic look. Here, try this one. It’s called Crater and believe me, it will turn heads. They’re going crazy for it on Aristozonex.” He winks at me, his eye so heavily lidded it looks like an overhanging lip. “Word on the street is even androids go weak at the knees for it, if that’s your thing.”