Girl of Blood: A Science Fiction Dystopian Novel (The Expulsion Project Book 3)

by Norma Hinkens

  Two figures step out of the shadows and my breath freezes in my throat.

  5

  I stare in disbelief at Sarth and Crank, desperately willing my brain to tell my eyes that I’m mistaken, that they’re specters. That I’m hallucinating after too many nights of little-to-no sleep. Of all the horrific alternatives to being shipped off to a penal colony for the rest of my life, this is the worst. I glance behind me to see if there’s a chance we could make a run for it, but the two guards who escorted us here are walking up the ramp after us.

  Crank’s eyes glisten as he studies us, his pupils as dark and dead as ever beneath the horns protruding from his forehead. I cringe at the twitch of his sadistic grin—his pointed, metal teeth glinting like weapons, the ridged scar that runs from his lip to his neck writhing like a serpent about to strike.

  “What is this?” I ask, fighting to hold my voice steady as the ramp begins to close, trapping us inside. “Why are you here?”

  “You, and your fugitive serf, were sold on the dark market, Cweltan princess,” Crank drawls, fingering a deadly-looking new plasma gun. My eyes travel despairingly over it. Bought and paid for with the dargonite they stole from us, no doubt.

  “Thanks to the timely intervention of your new owners, you won’t be condemned to a brief, miserable existence on Skytus after all,” Sarth mocks.

  My brain reels as I digest her words, trying to envision the dirty deal that went down before we even departed Aristozonex. How did Sarth and Crank know we were being transported tonight? I can’t imagine how much they paid for the information, or for us, but I can hazard a guess as to why they made the deal. The dargonite they stole from us was enough to pay for this sleek ship, and a few new toys, but there’s a lot more where it came from, and they want a share of it. I swallow back a sludge of fear. And then of course I can’t ignore the revenge angle. We made them look like fools throughout the Netherscape when we absconded from Diretus with the Zebulux. Sarth and Crank aren’t the type to forgive and forget.

  “You two look a tad shell-shocked.” Sarth chuckles, a low vibration at the back of her throat that sounds more like a threat than an invitation to relax. “Hardly surprising, considering we saved you from a virtual death sentence.”

  “Don’t take all the credit, Sarth,” one of the guards mumbles, ripping off his mask as he joins us.

  “Ghil!” Velkan hollers in shocked disbelief.

  My eyes widen as I take in the smooth-skinned, chiseled face in front of me. I’m still not used to Ghil’s newly-sculpted look that bears little resemblance to Crank’s fugitive brother. The second guard slips off her mask and grins at me.

  A current of euphoria shoots through me. “Buir!” I scream.

  She runs over to me and undoes my bonds. I clutch her in my arms, shaking with relief.

  “It’s okay, you’re safe now,” she soothes.

  “Ghil made it,” I say, my voice choking on emotion.

  Her eyes well with tears. “Thanks to all of you.” She gently splays her slender fingers to mine. “I’ve missed you so much, Trattora.”

  “What did you have to promise them to pull this off?” I ask, gesturing with distaste to Sarth and Crank who are watching us with amusement.

  Buir sighs, a grave expression settling on her face. “We were desperate. It was the only way to save you.”

  “Mining rights,” Crank bellows, clapping a hairy hand on Ghil’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right, brother?”

  Ghil throws me an uncomfortable look and busies himself untying Velkan’s bonds before answering. “I had no choice. It would have been impossible to rescue you and Velkan from Skytus. It’s a fortress.”

  Crank guffaws. “That it is. Only carcasses fly that coop.”

  “And I consented to the deal on Cwelt’s behalf,” Buir adds with some reluctance.

  Sarth hooks a dirty fingernail between her teeth and slides it back and forth, weighing up my reaction with an air of morbid satisfaction. “Nothing more or less than what you owed me. Same deal we agreed to back on Cwelt.” She pauses, regarding me with a conniving air. “That is, if a chieftain’s daughter’s word is worth anything.”

  I shoot Ghil a questioning look. He mustn’t have told Sarth about the Mauler invasion yet. She would never have purchased us from the Syndicate in a high-risk dark market deal behind Justice Kuberev’s back if she had known Cwelt was under siege and the mines already claimed. I rub my wrists distractedly. I only hope Ghil’s got some kind of escape plan up his sleeve. We need to get off this ship before we reach Cwelt.

  I give a tentative nod in Sarth’s direction. “A fair price for our freedom.”

  She scratches her bald head and eyes me suspiciously. After a long pause she says, “Then we’re in business, partner. We leave for Cwelt right away. You four will stay in the cargo bay for the duration of the trip.” She flashes her dingy teeth at us. “I’m sure you’ll find the Zebulux II a lot more comfortable than her predecessor.” Without waiting for a response, she turns and accompanies Crank up the stairs to the ship’s upper deck. When the steel door clangs shut behind them, I sink back against a LunaTrekker and exhale a long breath. “I can’t thank you enough, Ghil. You and Buir saved our lives.”

  Ghil grunts and rubs a hand over his reconfigured jaw. “That remains to be seen. But at least you’ve a fighting chance now. If you’d made it all the way to the penal colony, we’d never have set eyes on either of you again.”

  We fall silent as the engines rumble to life, routing power for liftoff. The strip lights flash sporadically during our ascent until we level out at cruising speed.

  “Any word from Ayma?” Velkan asks, turning to Ghil and Buir who are huddled together on the floor beside us.

  Pain slices through my heart. I know what he’s asking. He wants to know if Ayma attended Phin’s execution. I press my bottom lip between my teeth to keep it from wobbling.

  Ghil hesitates, as if unwilling to confirm what I dread hearing.

  “Tell them,” Buir urges.

  “I don’t want to give you hope until it’s confirmed, but Ayma bribed the guards on the night shift to leave Phin’s holding unit unlocked after your transport left. His friend, Branthorx, promised to have a ship waiting for him if he made it to the military base.” Ghil frowns. “That was the plan, but like I said, I don’t know the outcome. If Phin did make it out of Aristozonex, he’ll be a fugitive for the rest of his life.”

  I ignore the note of doubt in Ghil’s voice. It wouldn’t have been easy to escape the holding units and make it to the base undetected, but when I remember Phin’s fleet-footedness on the rooftops on Razaran, I can’t help but think he might have pulled it off. “Branthorx wouldn’t let him down,” I say with conviction. “I’m willing to bet Phin’s long gone by now.”

  “What about Ayma?” Velkan asks. “Surely she’ll face serious repercussions for aiding a convicted traitor if she’s found out.”

  “She was going to try and leave with him,” Buir says. “She knew she would be the prime suspect if he escaped, and her mother wouldn’t be able to protect her from the Chancery a second time.”

  Blood thunders in my eardrums. If Ayma succeeded, she has given up her life on Aristozonex and become a fugitive too.

  “Where will they go?” I ask.

  Ghil shakes his head. “No idea. They will be high-profile deserters. Nowhere will be a safe haven for them. The Syndicate has spies everywhere. Even planets sympathetic to undermining the Syndicate are rife with shady hucksters who will be only too willing to turn them in for a hefty reward.”

  “They might be in range of our ship.” I fiddle to activate my MicroComm. “Ayma! Phin! Do you copy? This is Trattora speaking. Do you read me?” I pucker my forehead and listen intently for a few moments.

  Velkan presses a finger to his ear. “I’m not getting anything.”

  “They’re not responding,” I say with a grimace. “If they’re out there, we’ll find them. But first we need to figure out how to
escape from Sarth and Crank.”

  Velkan runs a hand over his jaw. “I could sabotage some of the equipment on board and force a landing at a fueling station. We could escape while Sarth and Crank are distracted with the repairs.”

  “You need a code to access the engine room,” Ghil grumbles. “And to get to the ship’s upper level. We may be free to walk around down here, but we’re prisoners nonetheless.”

  Velkan gives a wry grin. “I can probably worm my way into the engine room without a code. I’ve found my way through my fair share of grates and vents in my days on the Zebulux.”

  “Suppose we do manage to force a landing, we still need to find a way off the ship,” Ghil says.

  “Or we ditch Sarth and Crank instead,” I suggest.

  Ghil lets out a snort. “Abscond with the Zebulux II? Sarth and Crank aren’t going to let that happen again. You’re out of your mind.”

  I shrug. “Not entirely. We’ll need a ship to find Phin and Ayma. We either hijack this one, or we try and gain access to another one at the fueling port.”

  Buir runs her fingers through her hair. “I have a bad feeling about this. It has the potential to go horribly wrong.”

  “Then we’ll have to eliminate that possibility,” I reply. “Unless you and Ghil possess enough credits between you to purchase a ship.”

  Buir pulls an elongated silver eyebrow into a reproving curve. She knows we don’t have a better option. We could barter for passage on another ship, but we’d run the risk of being turned over to the Syndicate. The lure of the reward credits will be more than enough to seduce any captain eking out a living on cargo runs in the Netherscape.

  “Sabotage it is then.” Velkan turns to Ghil. “Give me one of your knives. I can use it to unscrew the vent and disassemble the alarm mechanism in the engine room.”

  Ghil pulls a knife from his left boot and hands it to Velkan who retreats down the stairs to the lower deck with it.

  “What if Sarth or Crank come back while Velkan’s down there?” Buir eyes the metal stairwell to the upper deck with a look of trepidation.

  “Then we’ll send them running in the opposite direction,” I say trying to strike a nonchalant tone, even though my heart is thumping loudly enough for both her and Ghil to hear. “We’ll tell them he slipped the lock to the upper level. Don’t worry, it won’t take Velkan long to do what he needs to do.”

  Despite my flippant reassurances, my fear of Velkan being discovered mounts as the minutes tick by and the ship’s droning grows ever louder to my ears as we lumber along to our destination. Sarth may have dubbed us business partners, but it’s clear that this is anything but a partnership. One step out of line will make our stake in this deal even more precarious than it already is.

  I let out a sigh of relief when Velkan returns, a sheen of sweat glistening on his dark face.

  “Well?” Ghil demands.

  Velkan gives a subtle nod. “She’ll start to fly rough soon enough. I added a little something special into the fuel line. Won’t do any long-term damage.” He offers the knife back to Ghil.

  “Keep it, I got more where that one came from,” Ghil says with a wink.

  Velkan nods his thanks. “Better find something to hold onto in case it gets choppy over the next few minutes.” He gestures to the crates lashed together and tethered to the floor behind us.

  We’ve barely taken hold of the ropes to secure our stance, when the ship begins to make strange, creaking noises. A sensor light flickers on a panel on the wall, and then a low, insistent beeping starts up.

  Buir throws a dubious look Velkan’s way.

  “She’s running on reduced power to conserve energy,” he explains.

  Before I can ask whether that’s a good thing or not, a flushed and scowling Crank appears in the doorway above us. He thunders down the metal stairs and grabs Velkan by the scruff of the neck. “In the engine room, now. Figure out what’s going on and fix it.”

  As soon as Crank and Velkan disappear down the stairs, Ghil slips out a knife and examines the blade carefully before replacing it in his boot. I study him from beneath my brows. Is he wondering if he’ll have to use that knife on his brother to save our lives—Buir’s life? I don’t envy his decision, but I don’t doubt what he’ll do if it comes down to it.

  When Crank and Velkan return with the news that a fuel line needs to be replaced, Buir and Ghil act surprised—but I can’t resist a quick dig.

  “So much for your new state-of-the-art ship,” I say with a smirk.

  Crank grinds his unsettling teeth at me in a chilling reminder that he could eat me alive, flesh and bone.

  I wipe the grin off my face, unwilling to take my chances that he hasn’t dined this morning.

  “There’s a fueling station on this route,” Velkan interjects hurriedly. “They do ship maintenance right at the dock.”

  Crank ignores him. He cracks his knuckles and throws me another menacing scowl, before turning and stomping back up the stairs to the upper level.

  “Do you think they’ll stop at the station?” Buir nervously winds her long, silver strands into a thick braid.

  “They don’t have any other option,” Ghil replies, pacing between the supplies. “They can’t risk any long-term damage to an expensive ship like this.”

  Velkan turns to me. “It’s the same fueling station Sarth stopped at when we fled Cwelt. We know the general layout. Now we just need to figure out how to take the ship out from under their noses.”

  I consider this for a moment. “Crank and Sarth are going to be wary of us this time around. But there’s only two of them. And Ghil’s got his knives. We’ll just have to watch for our chance when they’re distracted. Four to one, the odds are with us.”

  Buir frowns. “But they’re armed with those new plasma guns.”

  “It’s risky,” I concede, “but we’ve got to reach Cwelt before it’s too late to help our people. If we can’t take Sarth and Crank down, then we need to escape and find passage on another ship.” I don’t add that I’m growing ever more desperate by the minute. I must find out if my parents are still alive. If they’ve been harmed in any way, I will make Parthelon pay for what he’s done. I swallow back an uncomfortable lump in my throat. I can sympathize with how Justice Kuberev feels about those she holds responsible for her husband’s death. I will prove to her if it’s the last thing I do that it was Parthelon, and not me, who is to blame for her husband’s death.

  “We’re losing altitude,” Ghil says. “We’re preparing to dock.”

  I exhale a shaky breath. The first part of our plan is working. Now we just need to figure out the rest of it.

  Minutes later, the ship shudders into position in a docking bay and the engines power down. Crank and Sarth emerge from the upper deck, plasma guns in hand. Sarth gestures at Ghil with her weapon. “You and Buir, down to the engine room. You’re staying on board. Velkan, you and the princess go get the parts.”

  She tosses Velkan a CipherSync. “There isn’t enough on there to buy passage out of here,” she adds with a ghoulish grin. “Not that a loyal serf like you would dream of abandoning your friends after they saved your lives.”

  My skin prickles. She knows we won’t try and escape if we’re split up, and Ghil can’t pull any surprises on them if he’s locked up in the engine room. This will never work. I take a breath and force the fog in my brain to clear. If Velkan’s right about this being the same fueling station we stopped at before, I might have another idea.

  Behind the crates, Buir slips me her CipherSync. “Try and escape,” she whispers before getting to her feet to follow Ghil over to the stairwell. “Forget about us.”

  I tuck the CipherSync gratefully under my sleeve, not that I intend for one minute to use it to buy passage off the station without her.

  The cargo bay doors open with a pneumatic hush. Crank kicks a couple of cloaks down the stairs to us. “Keep your hoods up so you’re not recognized. Get the parts and hurry back.”

&n
bsp; “You get the parts,” I mutter to Velkan, as we stride down the ramp to the fueling station. “I’m going to look for Roma, the vendor who gave me the information on our bracelets.”

  Velkan rumples his forehead. “Why?”

  I throw a cautious glance over my shoulder to make sure no one can overhear us. I don’t doubt the Syndicate has spies at every port. “If we can’t overpower Crank and Sarth, maybe we can drug them instead,” I whisper. “And who better to tell us where we can buy what we need than a dark market vendor like Roma?”

  “Sure you can trust her?” Velkan asks doubtfully.

  “The issue is whether she can trust me,” I say, as we make our way through the bustling throng to the security gate at the other side of the fueling station. “I never paid her what I owe her for the information she gave me the last time I was here.”

  The security guard stamps our hands with a holographic reentry stamp. “Twenty-four-hour permit,” he barks, waving impatiently to the next person in line.

  “Wait for me here at the security gate,” I say, nodding good-bye to Velkan before scurrying off down the street toward the colorful network of stalls.

  A deluge of voices pimping their wares drowns out my ability to hear myself think. The aroma of slow-cooked meat mingles with the stench of fumes from the port, but I’m too tense to feel hungry. My eyes roam the crowd constantly in the hope of spotting Roma. If anyone can find me what I need, she can. Getting Crank and Sarth to ingest the drugs will be another challenge entirely, but I have an inkling Buir’s prowess in the kitchen will be enough to persuade them to partake of a doctored meal.

  I’ve almost given up, when I finally spot the shimmery purple awning of Roma’s stall up ahead. Her eyes widen in recognition as I approach. She places a calloused hand on one hip and hoists a brow upward. “Come back to pay your debt after all?”

  I give her a sheepish grin. “Not yet, but I promise I will soon.”