Ghil throws me a pained look. “Yeah, hunger pangs.”
“All right.” I throw up my hands. “I’m coming.”
Ghil takes us to a laid-back cafe on a side street that he assures us serves the best galactic tacos he’s ever tasted. Neither Buir nor I have any idea what tacos are, but as soon as I bite into mine, I moan with pleasure. “Ghil, you’ve outdone yourself. I forgive you for the mush.”
He stops chewing and stares at me for a minute as if he’s trying to decide whether I’m serious or not.
“Come on, Ghil!” Buir pulls a humorous pout. “You’ve got to admit that your mush doesn’t come close to this.”
He shrugs and takes another bite of his taco. “Like I said, I ain’t making any more for you lot anyway.”
When we’re done, we order an extra portion for Velkan, and enough for breakfast for all of us, and then pay our bill using credits from my CipherSync. To my relief, it works flawlessly and we are free to leave without being arrested on our first night on Aristozonex. We exit the restaurant and make our way back toward the docking area, our stomachs bloated from our flavorful feast.
As we pass by the dermal sculptor, I glance at the sign again: We’ll rid you of your imperfections … discretion guaranteed.
And then a radical thought occurs to me.
21
“You two go on ahead! See you back at the ship!” I call to Ghil and Buir before pushing open the door to the dermal sculptor.
Hypnotic music envelops me, luring me inside the foyer. My feet seem to bounce beneath me on some type of cushiony surface as I walk. Several cylindrical acrylic tubes filled with luminescent fish stretch all the way from the floor to the ceiling at various points throughout the space. Monochromatic lounge chairs in the seating area to my left float out from the white walls. A crisp, citrus fragrance wafts through the air as I make my way to the desk on the right side of the room, where a perfectly coiffed woman graces me with a flawless smile. “How may I be of assistance to you today?”
I open my mouth to respond, and quickly close it again. I study the woman for a moment, my heartbeat quickening. She’s not just sculpted to look impossibly younger than her years; she’s an android.
I narrow my eyes and stare at her from several angles to be sure. She gives a tight, condescending smile and casually brushes a strand of hair back from her face. “If you have any questions about our elite services, I would be happy to answer them for you.”
I blink away my confusion and peer over her shoulder, hoping to spot another human being, but there’s no one in sight. “Uh, yes. I’m interested in blemish removal.”
“It would be my pleasure to assist you with that today.”
“The home service,” I add hastily.
“Of course.” She smiles as she hands me a flat device. “Discretion is our specialty. Just fill out these details on the DigiPad to begin the process.”
“It’s not for me,” I explain. “It’s for a friend.”
“I understand, just fill it out as best you can.”
I sit down with the tablet and glance over the questions. I don’t know the answers to most of them. I could guess at Velkan’s height and weight, but as for where he was born, I don’t have a clue. But then neither does he. I shrug and mark his birthplace down as Seinought, and fill in the rest of the blanks with whatever comes to mind, before handing it back to the receptionist.
She scans it and blinks up at me. “As your friend is interested in the home service you will need to fill out the address section,” she says in a pleasantly chiding tone.
“I don’t have a home address. We’re docked at the port.”
The android’s left eyebrow shifts upward a fraction of an inch. “I’m afraid we don’t offer home services on ships.”
“The ship is our home.”
The android assumes a neutral expression, the chip inside her head reciting from some pre-programmed script. “Syndicate law 5-07B8H2 states that dermal sculptors are not authorized to perform services on board foreign vessels.”
“Why not?” I demand, barely able to contain my irritation.
She tilts her head at an annoying angle and smiles serenely at me. “I detect that you are frustrated and unnecessarily elevating your blood pressure. Please allow me to explain.”
I briefly consider reaching for her head and pulling it off her neck, but I can’t be sure it wouldn’t trigger an alarm.
“It is a documented fact that unscrupulous renegades move among us,” the android continues. “Some fugitives attempt to conceal their identity through dermal sculpting, and even serfs have been known to hire dermal sculptors to remove their holographic markings.” She gives me a penetrating glare while carving her lips into an ambiguous smile.
My blood chills. Does she read minds too? Maybe I should have asked Velkan more about these androids. I dismiss the thought and steel myself for a fight. I need to escalate this beyond the standard script to accomplish what I came here for, and quickly. A human can always be bribed.
I lean my elbows on the counter and stick my face up close to hers. “Get me your boss, and make it snappy before I take that perfectly sculpted face of yours and melt it into something unrecognizable!”
“That won’t be necessary,” an icy voice calls from behind me.
I spin around and stare at the slender woman standing in an archway by the seating area, sleek hair pulled into a tight knot, a slash of red across her even tighter lips.
“I’m Doctor Azong. This is my practice.”
“At last, a human,” I say, walking up to her. “Your pre-programmed assistant is impossible to reason with. I need to procure your home services for a friend. We’re docked here for the next few days.”
“As my receptionist has already explained to you, it is a violation of Syndicate Law to perform dermal services on a foreign vessel,” she says in a placating tone.
“I can’t imagine you’ve never performed services on a ship before.” I lower my voice. “Discretion guaranteed. Why else would a dermal sculptor set up shop on this end of town if not to service the ships?”
The doctor runs her eyes up and down me and twists her lips disapprovingly. “You don’t look like you can afford my services.”
“I like to be discrete too,” I retort, holding her gaze.
“Come with me,” she says, her tone all at once sharp and businesslike.
I glance at the android, imagining her eyes boring into me, but her head is bent.
Doctor Azong leads me through the archway, down a short hallway and into a small conference room. Instead of offering me a seat she presses something on the underside of the table. The wall behind it slides apart revealing a smaller office beyond. She ushers me inside and gestures to a chair before sitting down behind the desk.
“You’re not my usual type of client.” She leans back and lights up an herbal cigarette as the wall slides shut behind us. I frown and throw a nervous glance behind me. I don’t like being trapped in this windowless space with a stranger.
“What’s your usual type?” I ask.
She pulls down her scarlet mouth. “Older, male—for the most part. Fugitives seeking a new identity to reintegrate into Syndicate life.” She peers at me keenly. “Tell me about your friend.”
A flush creeps over my cheeks. “He’s a serf. He needs his holographic tattoo removed.”
Doctor Azong takes a puff of her cigarette. “Why?”
My mind whirls as I make some snap decisions about what to share with her. Maybe we can pass Velkan off as Ghil’s serf if she agrees to do the dermal sculpting. “He saved the crew’s lives. The captain wants to give him his freedom as a reward.”
Doctor Azong flashes me the kind of smile that’s appropriate for a heartwarming story, but I can see by her eyes that she’s busy calculating how much of what I said is true. “House visits are double my usual fees, ships are triple,” she says after a long pause.
Relief cocoons me like a soft blanket. She d
oesn’t believe my story, but she doesn’t care. “Triple it is,” I say, a tad breathlessly.
Doctor Azong stubs out her herbal cigarette. “You can pay my receptionist. She’ll run half the credits up front, the balance to be paid once services are rendered.”
“What’s your fee?” I ask.
“Three-hundred thousand credits.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I don’t have that many credits—yet. I need to sell some cargo first.”
Doctor Azong looks at me with a bored expression. “Come back when you have the money.”
I run through my options in my head, reluctant to walk out of here without sealing the deal. There’s no guarantee she’ll even agree to it if I come back later. I can’t take that risk. I fumble inside my tunic and pull out a small nugget of dargonite. I clutch it in my hand for a moment or two, weighing my decision. After seeing how Roma reacted, I’m not sure it’s a wise move. But what choice do I have if I want to help Velkan? Slowly, I stretch out my hand and set the nugget of dargonite on the table between us. “I can give you your money—just in a different currency.”
Her eyes widen and gleam like a predator going into stealth mode. She flicks a burning glance my way and then reaches for the nugget and turns it over in her hand. “Is this what I think it is?” she asks, arching an accusing brow.
My pulse drums against my temples. I lean toward her, hoping the gleam in her eye was greed. “Dargonite. That nugget alone is worth ten times three-hundred thousand credits.”
She pulls out a laser loupe and studies the nugget intently. “How much do you have?”
“None of your business.”
She drums her fingers impatiently on the desk between us. “You’ll never be able to sell it on Aristozonex without contacts. I could help you.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “All you need to concern yourself with is performing the services I’m hiring you for.”
She stares at me for a long moment, as if weighing up how far she can push me, and then closes her fist over the dargonite. “All right. Here’s how it will go down. Fill out a maintenance request slip for a new turbo pump and turn it in at the dock. I’ll arrive in a maintenance van—my mobile sculpting unit—early tomorrow morning. I’ll drive right into your cargo bay so clear a space for me. Your friend better be there. We only get one shot at this, so don’t screw up.”
I nod, dizzy with elation. “Thank you,” I mutter, sinking back into the chair. I went with my gut on this one and it paid off. Not only is everything about to change for Velkan, but Sarth was right about the dargonite only increasing the interest of buyers now that it’s a dark market item. We shouldn’t have much trouble selling our supply.
“You love this serf, don’t you?” Doctor Azong peers at me through half-slit eyes.
“Excuse me?” I say, flummoxed.
A smile tugs at her lips. “I could have been a Syndicate undercover officer for all you knew, and yet you came in here and risked your freedom—your life even—to help your friend.”
I glower at her. “What’s it to you?”
She laughs. “Prickly little thing, aren’t you?”
I open my mouth to snap back but decide against it. I don’t want to risk souring the deal. Anyway, what would I be defending? Maybe I am in love with Velkan. I push out my chair and stand. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Doctor Azong gets to her feet and escorts me back out to the reception area before taking her leave. The android receptionist looks up and blinks in my direction. “I trust we answered all your questions to your satisfaction. Please don’t hesitate—”
I hurry out the door before she finishes her spiel, disinclined to engage in any more small talk with an irritating android.
I walk back to the docking station with a spring in my step. We’ve only been on Aristozonex a few hours, and I’ve already found a way to help Velkan, and successfully negotiated a deal involving dargonite. We won’t be needing Sarth after all.
Once I pass through the security gate, I check in with the port authority and fill out a maintenance request slip as directed. Then I head back across the dock to the Zebulux.
Buir’s eyes widen with relief when I enter the cargo bay.
“Where were you?” Velkan demands.
I grab him by the shoulders and smile up at him. “Making my first deal on Aristozonex. I found a dermal sculptor to remove your holographic tattoo.”
His brows flick upward. “They know I’m a serf?”
“A nugget of dargonite goes a long way.”
Velkan shakes his head. “No wonder Buir and Ghil were so tight-lipped about what you were doing. Is he coming to the ship to perform the procedure?”
“She. Doctor Azong. She’ll be here in the morning disguised as a maintenance worker—obviously, this isn’t the first time she’s performed illegal sculpting services on ships.”
Ghil narrows his eyes at me. “Who did you tell her Velkan’s owner was?”
I tell him the whole story, beginning with the android receptionist who freaked me out so much I considered terminating her. “Doctor Azong specializes in fugitive transformations,” I add. “Maybe you should think about it, Ghil. We’ve got the credits now.”
He folds his arms across his chest and frowns. “I’m used to my ugly mug.”
“At least talk to her about it,” I say. “You could ditch the black beanie.”
I barely sleep through the long watches of the night, knowing that tomorrow Velkan will become a free man, free to love me on and off this ship. Free to move openly through the Syndicate. My heart pounds with excitement. I rise before anyone else and grab a cold taco from the galley before heading down to the cargo bay and opening the door. I sit down on a crate to wait for Doctor Azong and take a bite of my taco. Even cold, the flavors are equally as mouthwatering as I remember them from the previous night. I chomp down on another bite just as Velkan appears at the top of the stairwell clutching another cold taco. We burst out laughing. He jogs down the steps, sets his taco aside, and takes me in his arms. “Thank you,” he whispers in my ear.
I reach up and wave my fingers through the holographic tattoo projecting from the side of his neck. “It could have been me,” I say. “Do you ever wonder why some suffer a fate that others escape?”
A troubled look flits across Velkan’s face. “Only those who escape a fate such as mine have the luxury of asking why.”
I drop my gaze, struck by the truth of his words. My life of ease has bought me much education and many hours to contemplate it. My thoughts drift to Cwelt and my parents. I miss them. They’ll be safe in the underground caves for now, but if I don’t return in the next month or two, their fate at the hands of the Maulers is sealed.
The humming of a machine startles me out of my reverie. “That must be her!” I say to Velkan.
We jump up just as a large white beetle-like vehicle zips up the docking ramp and into the cargo bay. The lettering on the side reads Azong Mechanics & Maintenance. A moment later, Doctor Azong and two men climb out, all dressed in mechanic’s jumpsuits.
“Close up the cargo door,” Doctor Azong says, sharply.
Velkan raises his brows at me but walks quietly over to the control pad.
“You didn’t mention bringing anyone with you.” I gesture to the men standing by the vehicle, faces set like flint. “Who are they?”
“My assistants,” she replies, watching the cargo door close. As soon as it’s sealed, she inclines her head to the men. They reach inside the maintenance vehicle and turn to face us. I gasp when I see the red dots from their laser guns lined up across Velkan’s forehead.
22
“What do you want?” I cry out.
Doctor Azong smiles serenely at me. “I’m an expert at sniffing out weakness. As lovesick as you are, I’ve no doubt you’d rather die yourself than see anything happen to the serf.”
I throw a desperate glance at Velkan.
“Where’s the dargonite?” Doctor Azong�
�s eyes pierce me like steel.
I glare back at her, determined not to show weakness again, even though I’m trembling inside with rage and frustration. I shouldn’t have been so trusting. Her reaction when she saw the dargonite was warning enough that she had an unhealthy interest in it, but I was so caught up in the excitement of helping Velkan that I ignored it. “I already paid you ten times over,” I retort. “Unless you came here to perform the service I purchased, you need to leave.”
“Search the ship!” Doctor Azong orders her men. One of them breaks away and marches mechanically toward the stairwell. I shrink back in horror when he passes by me. An android!
“So that’s how you keep your dirty dealings secret,” I say, turning back to Doctor Azong. “You don’t employ humans.”
“Human’s lips flap too much.” She gives me a thin smile. “I prefer to write the scripts and androids like being told what to do—the perfect working relationship.”
I sneak another glance across at Velkan. One lone laser dot glows in the center of his forehead. I’ve no doubt of the accuracy of the android’s aim. I don’t dare try anything rash.
“Move it!” Doctor Azong gestures to the stairwell.
Velkan and I exchange guarded looks before heading toward the stairs. Doctor Azong and the remaining android fall in behind us. I’m worried about Ghil and Buir. They have no idea what’s going on down here. If Ghil encounters the android he might try to fight it—feisty as he is—and end up dead, which doesn’t bode well for Buir.
When we reach the top of the stairs, I turn to Doctor Azong. “Where to?”
She arches a brow. “Take me to your captain. Maybe he’ll be more cooperative.”
I lead the way down the utility hallway to the communal area, my feet heavy as boulders. If Ghil is inside, I have to warn him not to charge the android accompanying us. When the door slides open, I tentatively peer around it. My eyes bulge and I repress a gasp. A decapitated android is slumped over on the floor by the dining tables. Ghil puts a finger to his lips and then beckons me inside. I give a subtle nod.
Girl of Fire: The Expulsion Project Book One (A Science Fiction Dystopian Thriller) Page 17