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

by Norma Hinkens

  Excruciating minutes go by and the staccato sound of gunfire continues unabated. My stomach roils at the telltale trail of smoke coming from our stern. We must have taken an unintentional hit as we twisted and rolled to evade the lizards. Some of them regroup in the air and turn their attention to the attacking Zebulux.

  Blood, like clotted pond scum, explodes over the porthole glass, veiling daylight from the room. The Dreadnought lurches sharply and we grab hold of the bunks riveted to the floor to keep from slamming into the walls or one another. Sparks fly, and I raise my hands to protect my face. The smell of burning metal fills the air just as the door to our bunk room suddenly slides open.

  We stare into the empty hallway, waiting for the body poachers to materialize.

  “Electrical system must be damaged,” Velkan yells. “This is our chance to get out of here while Furax and his men are distracted.”

  “Where to? They’ll find us sooner or later,” Ghil says.

  “He’s right,” I say. “It won’t do us any good to hide on the ship. But maybe we can use this opportunity to get our hands on some things we can use against them later. Look around for anything that can double as a weapon.”

  “If the alarm shuts off, come straight back here,” Velkan says. “We can’t let them discover us wandering the hallways.”

  Hesitantly, we navigate out into the dark hallway and peer down it in both directions. Emergency lighting markers flicker along the floors.

  “The ship’s running on auxiliary batteries,” Velkan explains. “Everyone’s either tied up in the control room or the engine room. If we stick to this hallway we should be safe. Search the other bunk rooms for whatever you can find that might be useful.”

  Buir chews nervously on her lip.

  “You can wait for us here if you want,” I say. “We won’t be gone long.”

  She shakes her head and lifts her chin. “No, I won’t let fear make a coward out of me.”

  I give her an appreciative nod. She’s not falling apart like I thought she would. Maybe we all have more reserves of strength than we think we do when the moment calls for it.

  We split up and begin making our way unsteadily down the utility hallway, occasionally thrown from side to side as the ship banks and rolls in a desperate bid to shake the lizards loose while the Zebulux continues to fire on them.

  The doors to all the bunk rooms gape open. I dash all the way down to the far end of the hallway, intending to work my way back, one room at a time. The ship jolts violently, and I pull myself through the last doorway and grab onto the metal bunk in front of me to steady myself. The unpleasant odor of aged sweat mingled with stale cigarettes fills my nostrils as I hurriedly rummage through a haphazard pile of blankets and dirty clothing on the bed. Nothing of use.

  I move on to the next bunk, slipping my hands under the mattress to check for anything stashed from sight. My fingers curl around cold steel. A grin spreads across my face. Unsurprisingly, the body poachers don’t trust their own bunkmates. I throw a glance over my shoulder to make sure the coast is clear and then pull out a small switchblade and slip it inside my jacket.

  The moment I step back into the hallway, the emergency lights around the base of the floor sputter and fade. The blaring alarm shuts off abruptly and the overhead lighting snaps back on. My heart races. I don’t have time now to check the other bunk rooms. If the electrical power has been restored, the doors might close of their own accord at any minute. I turn and leg it back down the long hallway, deeply regretting my decision to go all the way to the last room. Shock slices through me as the doors to the bunk rooms slam shut as I fly by. My chest tightens. I’ll never make it back in time.

  Up ahead, Velkan stands in the doorway to our room, jamming it open with a piece of pipe. Buir and Ghil peer around him, their faces creased with concern.

  “Hurry, Trattora!” Buir calls.

  I pump my arms to increase my pace for the final stretch and then hurl myself inside our bunk room, heaving for breath. Velkan yanks out the pipe in one fluid movement, releasing the door. It closes with a loud whoosh, mimicking the relieved breath I gasp out.

  “That was a close one,” Ghil says, wiping his brow.

  Buir squeezes my hand. “Where were you?”

  I give an embarrassed shake of my head. “I went all the way to the end of the corridor, stupid idea.”

  “Anyone find anything good?” Velkan looks around at us expectantly.

  I brandish my switchblade. “This was a lucky find, stashed under a mattress.”

  Velkan raises his brows. “A real weapon, impressive. I got this piece of pipe, and a handheld radio—it’s not working properly, but I think I can fix it.”

  “That could be valuable,” I say. “If we can listen in on the body poachers, it will make it easier to plan our escape.”

  Buir sheepishly holds up a bag of jerky. “I wasn’t looking for food, but I stumbled across it, and then the alarm cut off, so I grabbed it.”

  I laugh. “Trust you to make sure we’re fed. Don’t feel bad. Food is always useful.”

  I turn to Ghil. “How about it? Find anything?”

  He pulls a sleek plasma gun out of his waistband and holds it up.

  I suck in a sharp breath. “Where’d you find that?”

  Ghil grins. “I took it from a body poacher. Had to knock him out cold to get it.”

  I stare at him, aghast. “But they’ll know we were out of our room once they find him.”

  Ghil sniffs, averting his eyes. “He won’t talk. He took an atmospheric ride down the waste chute.”

  Buir stifles a horrified gasp.

  Ghil throws an apologetic look her way. “I had no choice, I ran smack into him in a bunk room. He stuck a gun in my face and was about to squeeze the trigger.”

  Velkan rubs a hand over his jaw. “With any luck, the other body poachers will assume he got sucked out through the damaged hull.”

  I glance out the porthole. “We’re flying level now. I’ll try and get an update from Phin and Ayma. I want to make sure they didn’t take a hit.”

  To my relief, the link connects almost immediately.

  “The Dreadnought’s stabilized and clear of lizards,” Ayma says. “You’re looking good.”

  “Did you fire at all?” I ask.

  “Once, when the lizards turned on the Zebulux,” she replies. “But I’m almost certain we weren’t detected.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right.” I rub my forehead in contemplation. Furax doesn’t miss much, but maybe the fighting was chaotic enough that he didn’t notice anomalies in the trajectory of the auto cannon fire.

  “You’re heading back into orbit,” Ayma says. “The Zebulux is following your course.”

  “Stay with us,” I say. “I want to know if we’re heading to Razaran or Cwelt.”

  “My guess is Razaran,” Ayma replies. “The scout shuttle Furax sent to Cwelt hasn’t returned yet.”

  Heavy footsteps thud down the hallway in the direction of our room. “Gotta go, Ayma,” I mutter. “Someone’s coming.”

  I kill the link and sink back down on a bunk.

  The door retracts and Rigs and another body poacher glower at us from the hallway. Rigs narrows his bristly brows and does a quick head count.

  My heart pounds. Do they suspect something? Have they discovered a body poacher is missing?

  “Is the ship badly damaged?” Velkan calls out. “I’m a mechanic if you need any help.”

  Rigs throws him a disparaging look and gestures us out. “Furax wants a word with you. Let’s go.”

  The two body poachers march us back to the mess room where Furax is seated at the table throwing back some vile-looking liquid that dribbles down his chin. His stringy hair clings to the sides of his sweaty face like limp seaweed. The floor is strewn with broken plates and remnants of food tossed around in the attack. Furax wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and motions impatiently with his mug for us to sit down.

  He slos
hes a mouthful of his drink around with the air of a man who could be set off by anything, before swallowing and slamming the mug down. “Change of plans,” he announces. “We’re returning to Razaran to wait for the scout shuttle. This planet’s infested with those infernal lizards.”

  He frowns down at his mug and then looks up sharply, a cunning gleam in his eye. “The Zebulux held her own against them though, didn’t she? We got … lucky.”

  His words vibrate in my ear, like an annoying buzzing insect. I can’t be sure if my paranoia is getting the better of me or if he’s insinuating something behind his deceptively disarming tone. Does he suspect another ship fired on the lizards?

  I throw a glance behind me at Rigs who leans back against the wall with a smug grin on his face. My pulse pounds in my ears. Furax is trawling for information, I’m sure of it. I prod Velkan under the table to warn him, but I can’t reach Buir or Ghil. I’m not worried about Ghil giving anything away, but Buir might blurt out something before she realizes what’s she’s said.

  “Very lucky,” I say firmly. “Those lizards were formidable foes.”

  Furax points at his mug for a refill, and one of the poachers hurries over with a pitcher.

  “It is odd, though,” Furax continues, after taking a hefty swig. He hesitates and gives a mock bewildered shake of his head. “Ah, it’s probably nothing.”

  I swallow hard. It seems like minutes tick by before Furax speaks again. “Then again, every time I have a hunch about something, I’m right.” He unfurls his lips in a predatory grin and fastens his gaze on Buir, sensing the weakest link among us. “I’m curious where you all were going in the LunaTrekker earlier. Do you like rocks, Buir?”

  She opens and closes her lips, and then clears her throat. “Trattora knows much more about them than I do.” Her cheeks flush with rising panic, and I grit my teeth as Furax goes in for the kill.

  “Foolhardy expedition, wouldn’t you say, rock hunting with giant killer lizards roaming freely in the vicinity. Anyone with half a brain wouldn’t leave their ship under those circumstances … unless of course they were heading somewhere even safer.” He cocks his head to one side as if contemplating this idea. “Like another ship, for example.”

  Buir twists her hands together in her lap.

  “I admit I was looking for dargonite,” I interject. “The rock composition here is not unlike Cwelt. I wasn’t about to let a giant lizard stop me. When it comes to dargonite, the risk is always worth the pay-off. You know that, as well as anyone.”

  Furax laughs, cold and mirthless. Then, he suddenly slams his palms down hard on the table in front of me, knocking his mug to the floor. “You take me for a fool? I know there’s another ship out there. I saw the trajectory of the auto cannon that took out those lizards. The Zebulux didn’t kill them all. Someone else was shooting at them, and I want to know who.”

  I feign disbelief. “That’s ridiculous. The Zebulux is equipped with the latest weaponry. She’s more than capable of handling what she accomplished today.”

  Furax moves his jaw side-to-side, scrutinizing me like I’m an insect he’d like nothing better than to squash. “If your friends are out there and following us, I will eliminate them.”

  I look Furax square in the eye. “My friends were tried by the Chancery. One of them was sentenced to death, and the other is under house arrest, guarded by the Syndicate military.” I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Believe me, I wish they were out there helping us.”

  Furax’s nostrils twitch. He flattens his lips in a resigned grimace. Whatever he truly believes, he’s not going to get anything more out of me than what I’ve already said.

  “Lock them back up,” he growls, getting to his feet. “And radio to the Zebulux to monitor the radar for a possible ship tailing us.”

  I stand, my heart tapping a furious rhythm under Furax’s steely glare as I exit the mess room. Rigs and another body poacher escort us back to our bunk room and lock us in again.

  We huddle together on the bunks, subdued by the knowledge that Furax suspects Phin and Ayma are out there hiding in plain sight.

  “So much for the element of surprise,” I say glumly. “Furax will be expecting us to attempt an escape now.”

  “Maybe, but he doesn’t know we have weapons,” Ghil reminds me.

  “And he can’t see the stealth fighter, even if he suspects it’s out there,” Velkan adds. “He can’t fight a ghost.”

  Their words do little to comfort me. If the body poachers search us once we reach Razaran, our motley collection of weapons will be discovered. Without it, we have little hope of reaching the stealth fighter, even if Ayma and Phin manage to land on Razaran undetected.

  We fall silent, dozing intermittently, as the damaged Dreadnought limps its way slowly back to Razaran.

  I wake with a start when the ship begins a choppy descent. “Ayma, do you copy?” I say, urgently activating my MicroComm.

  “Go ahead, Trattora. We’re tailing the Zebulux.”

  “Can you land the stealth fighter? We managed to get a gun, and we might be able to escape along the trail before we reach the settlement.”

  There’s a long pause before she answers. “That’s a negative.”

  I frown at the ominous undertone in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “The Dreadnought’s not heading to the landing pad. It’s docking up the mountain at the Cryogenics plant.”

  12

  A slow chill snakes its way across my shoulders. Why is Furax landing at the Cryogenics plant? I’ve been counting on the fact that we’re too valuable for him to dispose of us. What if I was wrong? After all, the only real purpose I serve as far as Furax is concerned is to facilitate the dargonite deal with my father. But now that Cwelt has been overrun by Maulers, the body poachers will have to fight to secure the dargonite. Once Furax defeats the Maulers, he can simply take over where they left off. There won’t be a need to negotiate with the Cweltan chieftain.

  Buir fastens a frozen look of terror on me. “What are they going to do to us?”

  “We don’t need to assume the worst,” I say, even though the sudden pounding in my head tells me that’s exactly what I’m doing. “Maybe the landing pad was destroyed when we blew up the ships and they’ve nowhere else to land other than at the plant.” I know this isn’t likely because the stealth fighter decimated the body poachers’ ships with mind-blowing accuracy, but it’s a necessary illusion to keep us both calm while I try to collect my thoughts.

  Ghil throws me a grateful look and slips an arm around Buir’s shoulders. “Trattora’s right. They just need somewhere to put down while they wait for the scout shuttle.”

  Buir’s jaw quivers. “I hope that’s all it is.”

  I check to make sure my MicroComm is still live. “Ayma, do you copy?”

  “We’re right behind you,” she replies. “The Dreadnought’s attempting to land, but space is tight and there are heavy crosswinds adding to the challenge. Phin’s trying to figure out how we’re going to get you off that mountain.”

  “Everything depends on whether Furax keeps us on board or takes us to the plant,” I reply. “I’ll link back with an update as soon as I find out what his intentions are.”

  After several aborted attempts, the damaged Dreadnought finally manages to dock on a cramped rocky landing pad designed for smaller vessels. At least another hour goes by before we hear the body poachers’ footsteps approaching our bunk room.

  “I don’t want to get off the ship,” Buir says, sucking in a breath.

  “We’ve more chance of escaping off the ship than on it,” Velkan says.

  “And more body poachers to contend with,” Ghil adds. “Don’t try anything rash. We need to plan our escape carefully. We don’t have enough weapons between us to take on the body poachers directly.”

  The door to our bunk room slides open and a stone-faced Rigs motions us out. We file silently down the utility hallway and exit the ship through the cargo bay out into the swirl
ing mist lazily circling the mountaintop like the exhaled breath of a giant beast. I shiver as I glance down at the dense vegetation creeping like a cancer up the slopes. I know only too well the dangers that lurk within. If we escape, we won’t be heading down the mountain into the clutches of the wild cats and bloodsuckers that tyrannize Razaran. Ayma and Phin will have to pluck us from the mountaintop. And that will be problematic. They can hover nearby in the stealth fighter unseen, but there’s no room for them to land anywhere with the Dreadnought taking up most of the space.

  We follow the body poachers up a winding trail for about a quarter mile until Rigs orders us to halt. From behind the summit, a thin ominous cone of black smoke spirals into the sky, but I can’t spot the Cryogenics plant anywhere in the vicinity. I peer around apprehensively until I catch sight of a flickering lantern under a rock overhang leading into a tunnel. My heart slugs against my ribs. The plant must be hidden inside the mountain. It makes perfect sense—no better way to hide the illegal operation from discovery by Syndicate satellites and patrol ships. I exchange a troubled look with the others. Even Ghil looks shaken at the prospect. If the body poachers take us underground, our MicroComms may not work. And without any way to contact Phin and Ayma, we’re never getting off this mountain.

  Furax and the other body poachers engage in hushed conversation for several minutes before pulling apart. Rigs pinches his shaggy eyebrows together and gestures at us. “What do you want us to do with this lot?”

  Furax runs a cold eye over us. “Once the scout shuttle returns, I’ll determine how useful they are going to be. In the meantime, entertain them as our guests.” A grimly mocking smile wraps itself around his face. “Give them a tour of the facility. They might enjoy that.”

  Rigs’ mashed-in face warps into disdainful contours. “Follow me, and don’t try anything stupid. If you step out of line, I won’t hesitate to shoot.”