I sigh and set down my glass, just as the holographic billboards on every building flash a synchronized red alert. I look up in alarm. Ghil’s face fills the sky above the businesses lining the street. The ticker tape below the image reads, Escaped Syndicate fugitive, armed and dangerous.
I quickly bow my head to hide from the cameras the expression of shock and horror I’m certain is plastered all over my face. What if the guards connect Ghil’s escape to our visit? I glance tentatively up, but to my relief, the billboards have resumed their advertising and our mugshots don’t appear.
“We need to help him,” I hiss at Velkan.
“How?”
“If he can’t come to us, we’ll go to him.”
Velkan shakes his head. “Where would he hide in a city like this?”
I look around at the glittering high rises, cameras documenting and tabulating every freeze-frame of life. There is nowhere to run and nowhere to hide on Aristozonex. The Syndicate will find him. I know better than most the mechanics of the hunt. My thoughts drift to my last sham hunt in Cwelt’s sacred triangle. It seems like such a long time ago, another lifetime. Before the Maulers came. A wave of pain hits like a hammer when I remember my people hiding in the underground caves.
And then it comes to me. The sewers!
I grab Velkan by the sleeve. “Ghil can’t show his face anywhere. Maybe he went underground. He said the sewers would be the only place he would ever be safe.” I scrape my chair out and get to my feet. “We need to buy lamps.”
Velkan looks at me, startled. “You want to go into the sewers?”
“We need to go to him, remember?”
Velkan takes a swig of my Delta Water and then follows me into the street.
“Look for a store that sells hunting supplies,” I say.
Velkan chuckles. “People don’t hunt on Aristozonex. We need a general dispenser that prints small, miscellaneous items.”
I wrinkle my brow. “What are you talking about?”
“Most smaller goods can be printed on demand.” Velkan points up ahead. “I see a dispenser on the next corner.”
He leads me up the street to a circular booth embedded with screens all the way around, each displaying a rolling assortment of sundry items. A woman standing in front of the screen next to us reaches down and retrieves a toy LevCab from a slot below. She hands it to the delighted child at her side.
“Voice activated,” Velkan explains. “It brings up our options and prints our selection.”
“Impressive,” I say. “Bet it can’t print shamskins.”
Velkan laughs and turns to the screen. “Display flashlights.”
Immediately, an assortment of flashlights in various sizes scrolls across the screen.
“Now we make our selection.” Velkan points to an item on the screen. “How about that one?”
I shrug. “Looks fine.”
“Item C-12,” Velkan says. “Quantity two.” He scans his CipherSync and a slot opens beneath the screen, displaying two flashlights on multi-purpose belts.
“Here you go.” Velkan grabs one and hands it to me.
I start to strap it on, but Velkan stops me. “Stash it in your BodPak for now. We don’t want to attract unnecessary attention.” He looks up and down the street. “Now we need to find our way down to the sewers. I haven’t seen any manhole covers or vents anywhere.”
“I think I know who might be able to help us with that,” I say.
Velkan looks at me sharply. “Not Brivardo again?”
“No, our friendly trash detector cyborg.”
Velkan raises a brow. “Cwelt may be primitive, but you can be surprisingly brilliant at times!”
“Well, when you’re done basking in my brilliance, let’s make tracks before he checks out for the day.”
Velkan reaches for my hand. “I’m not sure he’s technically a cyborg if he only has a metal finger, so you lose a few points for that.”
“Don’t dock me yet,” I retort as we make our way back down the street to hail a LevCab. “He may have more metal parts we don’t know about.”
To my relief, the cyborg is sitting in the same spot in the docking station as earlier, muttering to himself as people swarm by. Judging by the sour expression on his face, he has only grown more disgruntled as the day wore on. Several recycle drones hover over guilty parties, directing them to the nearest trash vaporization chutes in various galactic languages.
“He doesn’t look like he’s going to be as receptive to friendly banter this time around,” I say to Velkan. “And we don’t have time to waste softening him up. Maybe we should just offer him some credits in exchange for showing us how to access the sewer system.”
“He’s going to wonder why we want to go down there.”
“I have an idea about that,” I say, tugging Velkan’s arm.
He looks doubtful, but he acquiesces with a shrug.
We walk slowly past the cyborg and nod in his direction. A flicker of recognition comes into his eyes, and he waves us over. “Leaving already?”
“Not yet.” I smile brightly at him. “We have some research to conduct for the Interplanetary Health Alliance.”
The cyborg extends his metal finger and scratches his back, reassessing us. “Didn’t take you for scientists,” he remarks. “More like tourists from one of them up and coming planets.”
“We study viruses and bacteria in human waste,” I say. “Not the most glamorous kind of research.”
The cyborg pulls down the corners of his lips in disgust. “It’s one thing dealing with people’s trash above ground, but I wouldn’t want to touch what goes underground!”
My heart pounds at the perfect segue he’s provided. I fix a generous smile across my face. “You have a sophisticated sewer system on Aristozonex. I haven’t seen a single sewer cover.”
The cyborg looks at me with a horrified expression on his face. “You don’t need to go down there, do you?”
I give an indifferent shrug. “It’s our job. We work for the Inter-planetary Health Alliance. We do random checks on every planet’s sewer system.” I lean toward him. “You’d be surprised what’s fermenting beneath cities.”
The cyborg frowns. “Do you have a permit or something?”
I pull my lips into a tight line. “We’re still waiting to hear back from the Sanitation Unit. They’ve delayed us several days already.”
The cyborg grunts. “Waste of time solar trash. Sit at their desks all day and process nothing but their own garbage.”
I throw a quick glance over my shoulder. “To tell you the truth, I think they’re hiding something. The air samples we’ve taken here are disturbing.”
An alarmed look passes over the cyborg’s face. “I told them last month those trash vaporization chutes needed to be sterilized.”
I paint on a grave expression. “I’m afraid it’s a lot more serious than that. Two trash detection agents died in the past few weeks. The Sanitation Unit is trying to hush it up, but there’s rumor it’s a flesh-eating bacterium emanating from the sewer system.” I lean conspiratorially toward the cyborg. “I don’t suppose you could show us how to get down and grab a sample. It would save us several days’ delay and a whole lot of grief—maybe even your life. Naturally, we would compensate you for your trouble.”
The cyborg’s chest heaves in and out several times as he considers the proposition. “Don’t see why not. If this job’s hazardous to my health, I want to know about it. My shift is over in ten minutes. Meet me at the curb.”
Velkan and I wander across to a couple of nearby stalls and make a show of examining the wares. I keep one eye on the holographic timekeeper above the security gate. Exactly ten minutes later, we make our way to the curb just as the cyborg comes hobbling up. He gives us a quick nod and ducks into a waiting LevCab. Velkan and I exchange questioning looks and then climb in after him. The cyborg stares studiously out of his window, avoiding eye contact with either of us. I decide against trying to strike u
p a conversation. Maybe LevCab conversations are recorded, and he doesn’t want to be associated with us in case we’re caught, or perhaps he’s always this morose after a day’s work.
We ride in silence for fifteen minutes or so until the LevCab floats to a standstill on the outskirts of town. The cyborg gestures to us to pay the fare. I swipe my CipherSync and the door retracts. We disembark in an old industrial area where most of the businesses appear to be enclosed by high fences, behind which I can hear guard dogs snarling.
I look around uneasily. “Is this where the Sanitation Unit is located?”
The cyborg beckons to me with his metal finger. “Credits first. Twenty-thousand is the least I’ll take.”
I hesitate, pretending to be shocked by the preposterous amount, even though I would pay several hundred thousand if that’s what it took to find Ghil.
The cyborg taps his CipherSync impatiently, and I transfer the credits. At the rate I’m spending them on bribes, I’ll be broke before I find a buyer for the dargonite.
The cyborg peers at his wrist and then looks up, apparently satisfied. “Officially, the sewers can only be accessed by the Sanitation Unit from within their facility. But there’s a backup maintenance shaft in this section of town, in case of an industrial accident.”
“Great,” I say, looking around. “Where is it?”
The cyborg points at a large gray building to our left. “It’s in the basement of the water purification plant.”
“How do we get in?” Velkan asks.
The cyborg makes an annoying clicking sound. “That’s for you to figure out. My job was to bring you here. I’m not going near no flesh-eating bacteria.” He turns on his heel and shuffles off into the night.
I eye the imposing fence that surrounds the water purification plant.
“There’s no way we can climb that fence,” Velkan says.
“If Ghil found a way in, so can we,” I say a lot more confidently than I feel.
“We don’t know where Ghil is,” Velkan reminds me. “This is a long shot at best.”
“Let’s stake it out for a bit now that we’re here,” I say.
We conceal ourselves behind a stack of wooden crates and watch as people come and go through the main entry gate in small groups, presumably changing shifts. “Doesn’t look like there’s much security,” I say. “All we really need is to nab some of those dingy-looking overalls and we can slip right in.”
“And how do you plan on getting a hold of overalls?” Velkan asks.
I grin. “Follow a couple of workers and ask nicely.”
He shakes his head. “I think I know where this is going.”
“We’re not going to mug them,” I say in an injured tone. “I’ve become an expert at bribing people. We’ll pay them for the overalls.”
It takes a bit of persuading Velkan to go along with me, but after a while, I break his resolve. “Although I still think it’s a bad idea,” he says with some lingering hesitation. “They could report us to the Minders.”
We stay crouched behind the crates until we spot a couple of targets around our size. They make their way out of the main gate and turn down the main street.
“Hurry!” I whisper.” We have to reach them before they hail a LevCab.
I turn around to prod Velkan into action, but he’s disappeared.
31
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Did he take off already? How did I miss him? I jerk my head around, my eyes frantically roving every nook and cranny for any sign of Velkan. I peer across the yard at the shadowy piles of coiled pipe and stacked rebar by the main gate. Maybe he darted over there already. “Velk—”
“Sssh!” A rough, calloused hand covers my mouth and I catch the glint of a blade out of the corner of my eye. My scream comes out as a muffled yelp as I’m dragged down beneath the crates.
“It’s Ghil,” the voice whispers in my ear. “Velkan’s here with me.”
The grip of the strong hand over my mouth slackens. My muscles relax when I spot Velkan hunkered down a few feet away. I turn around slowly. Even in the dim light, I can see that Ghil’s face is badly swollen, blood crusted in his hair and eyebrows. “Are you all right?” I whisper.
He gives a curt nod. “The Syndicate didn’t do this. It was Crank and Sarth. They took Buir.”
The words spin inside my head. My skin grows clammy. I stare at Ghil hoping it doesn’t end there; that he’ll tell me she escaped or something, but the caustic pain in his eyes speaks for itself. I bite down on my lip until the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. I can’t let anything happen to Buir. The only reason she’s in this mess to begin with, is because of me. “We’ll go after them,” I say, fiercely. “But first we have to get you to safety.”
“I was trying to get down to the sewers, but there’s no way inside the building,” Ghil says. “Security’s too tight.”
“Then we’ll figure something else out,” I say.
Ghil shakes his head slowly. “You shouldn’t have come after me. If they catch you helping me, you’ll be sent to the penal colonies too.”
“We’re not going to leave you behind. Not after everything you’ve done for us.”
“Trattora’s right,” Velkan says. “We just need to put our heads together and come up with an alternative plan.”
Ghil sighs. “I already know what needs to be done. I can’t run forever. The only way to end this is to undergo facial reconfiguration.”
Velkan gives a somber nod. “It’s worth the cost for freedom.”
Ghil bows his head and traces the blade of his knife in the dirt. “I’ll get my freedom back, but I’ll lose a part of me. Maybe that’s the price I pay for all the things I did.”
“So, you’re willing to go through with it if we find a dermal sculptor?” I ask.
Ghil shrugs. “I don’t have enough credits to pay them.”
“I don’t have much left either,” I say, “but I know someone who does. And I reckon he owes us a favor after setting up that meeting with Sarth and putting our lives in danger.”
“What are you thinking?” Velkan asks.
“You and I will pay Stefanov a visit. If he wants his share of any more dargonite, he’ll have to help us.”
Ghil smirks. “The irony is that Sarth and Crank don’t even realize they have our dargonite on board.”
Velkan raises his brows. “They didn’t find it?”
Ghil shakes his head. “They about tore that ship apart looking for it, though. They’re convinced Trattora took it off the ship. They’re planning to go to Cwelt and trade Buir and the other Cweltans to the Maulers in exchange for a deal on mining rights.”
I swallow hard. “Then we’ll intercept them before they arrive.”
“It would help if we had a ship.” Ghil clenches his fist in frustration.
“A ship won’t do us any good if we can’t take you with us. Velkan and I will go back to the pawn emporium and talk to Stefanov. Stay here until we return.”
Once the coast is clear, Velkan and I slip out to the road and walk briskly to the nearest LevCab stand.
Twenty minutes later, we pull up outside the pawn emporium. A flashing holographic sign displays an end-of-season sale with discounts storewide.
“Busy,” I say, eying the steady stream of customers going in and out.
“Not the best timing,” Velkan acknowledges.
We make our way inside and blend in with the patrons browsing the wares. Several androids are stationed behind each counter attending customers, and Stefanov’s daughter, Leeta, is assisting a customer at a jewelry display. When she spots us, she says something into her CipherSync. Minutes later, Stefanov comes striding up to us. He draws his imposing brows together. “What are you doing here?” He fixes an accusing gaze on me.
“We need to talk,” I say.
Stefanov jerks his chin at Velkan. “Why’s he here?”
“He’s a part of this conversation,” I reply. I can’t help being distracted
by Leeta who’s obviously straining to listen in on what I’m saying. “A private conversation,” I add, emphatically.
Stefanov throws one last disapproving look at Velkan and then leads us downstairs to his office. “As you can see, I’m extremely busy with our end-of-season sale.” He closes the door behind us. “What can I help you with?”
“You have a funny way of defining help,” I begin.
Stefanov narrows his eyes. “What’s this about?”
“You set us up,” I say. “That buyer you found us stole our ship and all the dargonite on board. She and her henchman also kidnapped one of our crew and turned in our captain, Ghil, as a fugitive.”
Stefanov’s face pales. He stares at me with a pinched expression on his face. “She found me. I should have known something was up. It was too easy.”
“She’s on her way to the dargonite mine as we speak,” I say. “Unless we intercept her, you won’t see your share of any more dargonite.”
Stefanov passes a hand over his face. “I can’t help with that. I don’t have access to a ship.”
“We’ll worry about that part,” Velkan says. “What we need you to do is find us a dermal sculptor willing to perform facial reconfiguration on a fugitive.”
Stefanov widens his eyes. “Is your captain the fugitive who escaped today?”
I nod. “He was your buyer’s right-hand man. If anyone can predict her next move, he can.”
Stefanov fingers his jaw nervously. “Dermal sculptors willing to work on fugitives are rare. The risks are enormous.”
“But you know of one?” I press.
He wets his lips. “I haven’t spoken to her in a long time. I can’t be sure the Syndicate isn’t using her as an informant now. People who are caught will do anything to avoid being sent to the penal colonies.”
“Contact her and ask if she can come here,” I say. “We don’t have much time. We need the procedure done right away.”
“We can’t do it here,” Stefanov protests.
“Where else would we do it?” I ask. “This is as safe a place as any.”
“I can’t put my business in jeopardy,” Stefanov says. “It’s too dangerous.”
Girl of Fire: The Expulsion Project Book One (A Science Fiction Dystopian Thriller) Page 24