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

by Norma Hinkens

  “Maybe they’ll move out at dawn,” Buir says, sounding unconvinced.

  I grimace. “They look like they’re planning to stick around until we make an appearance.”

  No one seems inclined to try to sleep, so we hang out in the communal area, dozing and exchanging the occasional banter, but mostly monitoring the viewport in the hopes that our fearsome and unexpected guests will disappear as elusively as they came.

  We take turns watching the flames from their fires burn steadily through the long watches of the night. When dawn comes, we are faced with the cold, hard reality that the tribespeople aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  We pick in strained silence at the breakfast Buir prepares for us with the last of our fresh food. We still have enough canned supplies left for a week’s worth of mash, but after that, we’ll be out.

  Ghil sighs and tosses down his fork. “I say we load up the LunaTrekker and blast a trail out of here. I can’t sit here and do nothing any longer. They won’t be expecting a vehicle, so maybe we can make a getaway before they even realize what’s happening.”

  “You’re assuming a lot,” I say. “We don’t know how fast those solarbald ponies can run.”

  “What we need is a distraction,” Velkan says, getting up and walking over to the viewport. “Maybe we can jam the accelerator on the second LunaTrekker and send it down the ramp first to scatter them.”

  “It might just end up blocking our escape route,” Meldus points out.

  “Hey! Check this out!” Velkan turns and gestures us over to the viewport.

  We crowd around him, pressing in to get a better look. A lone tribeswoman is approaching the ship, arms outstretched. She appears to be unarmed, but after seeing how many knives Ghil can conceal under his clothes, it wouldn’t surprise me if she had a weapon stashed somewhere on her person.

  “What do you think she’s doing?” Buir asks, when the woman sits down cross-legged in front of the ship and lays what appears to be a string of beads out in front of her.

  My heart beats a little faster in my chest. “I think it might be a gift for us. They’re initiating contact. Maybe they’re trying to tell us they come in peace.”

  Ghil narrows his eyes at the woman. “Or trick us into coming out unarmed, more like it.”

  I scan the remainder of the tribespeople clustered in small groups behind the woman. Despite the intimidating symbols daubed on their foreheads, they don’t look like they’re preparing for war.

  “I’ll go out there and greet her,” I say.

  “No!” Velkan and Buir cry in unison.

  Meldus gives me a stern look. “The chieftain would never allow such a reckless gesture.”

  I toss my shamskin over my shoulder. “I am your chieftain until you return to Cwelt,” I reply sharply.

  Meldus tightens his lips but gives a slight bow.

  “It would be crazy to go out there alone,” Ghil says.

  “It’s not crazy to reciprocate if they’re trying to reach out to us,” I argue. “If we send out an unmanned vehicle into their midst, we could end up killing some of them. No telling how they’ll react then.”

  Ghil frowns. “You have a point.”

  Buir lays a hand on my arm. “I’ll go with you.”

  I shake my head. “No, they only sent one messenger. It’s best if we do the same. Woman to woman. The rest of you can take up positions behind the cargo in the docking bay. We’ll open the door and see what happens. If they don’t attack right away, I’ll go out and greet the woman.”

  There’s a long silence while everyone mulls over my proposal.

  “If they do attack, we’ll retaliate, you understand that?” Ghil says, frowning at me.

  I nod, even though on the inside I’m shrinking from the thought of shooting one of them.

  Ghil looks around at the rest of the group. “They’ve made the first move. We need to respond, one way or another. Either we make contact, or we blast our way out of here.”

  “I vote for leaving in the armored vehicle,” Velkan says.

  “I second that,” Meldus echoes.

  I fasten a disapproving gaze on him. “You don’t have a vote; your job is to obey my orders.”

  “If we can avoid bloodshed, we should try that first,” Buir says.

  Ghil gives a curt nod. “I agree. Let’s head on down to the cargo bay and begin strategizing.”

  Once we’re gathered downstairs, Ghil wastes no time assigning everyone a hiding place with a good view of the entryway, and a decent angle to shoot from if it comes to that. My heart beats rapidly as I crouch behind several barrels to the left of the loading dock. I elected not to arm myself with a gun—I don’t want to come across as a threat—although I keep Ghil’s dagger concealed in my waistband.

  “Opening the doors now,” Velkan calls out. He keys the code into the control pad on the wall and then darts back behind a stack of crates.

  Blood pounds like rushing water in my ears. The steel door of the cargo bay yawns upward at an agonizingly slow pace. I shield my face when the light spills through, my body tense as I watch from behind the barrels for any sign of sudden movement. A hush falls over the tribespeople. I wait, breath on pause, to see if any of them reach for their crossbows. But they leave them slung casually over their shoulders and make no attempt to approach the ship.

  I wait for several harrowing minutes before stepping out into the cargo bay in full view of the tribespeople. The woman who was sitting cross-legged in front of the ship gets to her feet and holds out the beads like an offering. I walk slowly toward the loading ramp, smile, and lift my hand to splay it in greeting. The expression on the woman’s face shifts to one of horror. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot an archer raise a crossbow, then someone slams into me from behind and sends me flying.

  19

  “Don’t shoot! It was my fault!” I scream. “They misunderstood!”

  My mind races in circles as everything plays out again in slow motion. Splaying my hand in greeting, the five-pronged symbol on the tribespeople’s foreheads—some kind of war cry perhaps? The archer drawing his bow, someone slamming into me. Fear prickles up my spine. I scramble to my feet and gasp when I see Meldus lying motionless a few feet away, an arrow protruding from his chest. I fall to my knees at his side and cradle his head, my breath icing over in my lungs. “Meldus! Can you hear me?” I scream his name repeatedly until I’m hoarse, but to no avail. His body lies limp in my arms. I rock him back and forth, tears welling up and streaming down my face. If ever I felt the burden of my legacy, it is now when I have witnessed one of my own lay down his life to protect his future chieftain.

  The tribeswoman’s shadow falls over me. Too grief-stricken to react, I bury my head in Meldus’ chest and wait for her to do what she will to me. When nothing transpires, I lift my head in time to see her kneel reverently by Meldus’ body. I watch through my tears as she takes her glittering beads and slips them over his head before running her finger down the center of his forehead.

  I blink across at her, numb with shock, yet sensing empathy emanating from her expression; her caring gestures those of a mourner grieving for the dead.

  “He’s gone,” I whisper.

  She looks at me blankly and traces her finger down his forehead again. I crumple back over Meldus’ body and sob quietly. The woman’s hand slides over my shaking shoulders, rubbing tiny concentric circles of comfort into them. “Sah-pire,” she whispers repeatedly.

  The word has no meaning to me, but her comforting tone warms my broken heart and tells me everything I need to know. They meant no harm. My hand gesture indicated something else entirely to them that triggered their need to defend themselves, or perhaps their honor.

  When my sobs finally subside, I lay Meldus gently back down and wipe my eyes with the palms of my hands. The tribespeople stand around us, still as shadows, heads hung low in a mark of respect for the dead—or shame perhaps? I glance around, but it’s impossible for me to tell which one of them
shot the arrow. Not that it matters. It wasn’t their fault. I blame myself for my careless gesture. I should have been more cautious like Buir. I get to my feet and reach for the woman’s hand. She studies my face for a long moment and then places her hand in mine. Murmuring ripples around the tribespeople, but they remain motionless.

  I walk slowly toward the ramp, hand in hand with the woman, signaling to Buir and the others to stay put. I come to a halt at the top of the ramp and face the tribespeople. When I’m sure I have their attention, I shrug out of my shamskin and drape it around the woman’s shoulders, before presenting her to them. Toothy smiles break out across their painted faces. A low warbling fills the air which I take as another sign of their approval. The woman tugs at my hand and pulls me toward her people. I walk down the ramp, my heart heavy with loss, but filled with a growing assurance that the tribe meant no ill-will. As I walk toward them, one-by-one they raise their fists in front of them and pump them up and down. The woman turns to me and smiles. She takes my hand and folds my fingers over in a fist. I nod to show her I understand, and then return the native greeting, the one I know now I should have given, the one that wasn’t a call to war, or an insult to their deity, or whatever it was that it meant.

  The woman ushers me along the line of tribespeople until we reach a man who I can tell is their leader by the command of respect in his gestures, and the wisdom in his eyes as he appraises me. The woman says something to him in their native tongue. He taps his knuckles to his chest. “Boshtee!”

  “Bosh-tee,” I repeat.

  He nods and smiles.

  “Trattora.” I tap my fist to my chest in return.

  He gestures questioningly at the ship.

  I beckon to him to follow me and then wait for his response. He nods curtly to the men around him, and two of them move silently to his side. I turn and lead them back down the receiving line of people toward the Zebulux. The woman catches up with me and taps her chest. “Zindera!”

  “Zindera! That’s a pretty name,” I reply.

  She smiles as if she somehow understands that I’ve complimented her and grabs hold of my hand again.

  I walk back up the ramp and into the cargo bay with my newly acquired entourage. Buir’s eyes widen when she sees us. Ghil and Velkan freeze midstride, in the process of transporting Meldus’ body over to the bed of the unmodified LunaTrekker. I signal to them to finish what they are doing, and hurriedly pull Buir aside.

  “Do not, under any circumstances, splay your hand at them. That’s what triggered their archer to shoot at me—something to do with the symbol on their forehead, I think. I either threatened them or insulted them.”

  Buir nods fervently, stricken with awe and terror at the sight of the tribespeople examining their new surroundings. Boshtee turns back to me and flaps his hands in the impression of a bird and cocks his head to one side questioningly.

  I shake my head, then flap my hands downward and point at the floor in my best attempt to demonstrate that the ship is broken.

  He seems to grasp what I’m saying and nods thoughtfully. He taps his chest insistently with his fingers and then points two fingers at his eyes.

  “I think he wants to see what’s damaged,” I say to the others.

  Ghil runs a skeptical eye over Boshtee and shrugs. “He doesn’t look like the type to have a spare valve in his hip pocket.”

  “We’re just being courteous.” I give Ghil a dark look. “Keep your knives out of sight.”

  “I’ll stay up here,” Buir says. “It doesn’t seem right to leave Meldus alone, even though—” Her voice chokes and she turns and hurries over to the LunaTrekker.

  “I’ll stay with her,” Ghil says. “It’s not safe for her to be alone.”

  Velkan steps forward. He beckons to the tribespeople to follow him and then leads Boshtee and his men down the stairwell into the belly of the ship and through to the engine room. I follow behind with the woman.

  “We have several problems,” Velkan begins, gesturing at the equipment. “The oxidizer valve failed and messed up the—”

  “Velkan, they don’t understand you,” I interrupt. “Just show them.”

  He tosses me an annoyed look but proceeds to demonstrate the problem using hand gestures and sounds.

  Boshtee follows along with interest. When Velkan is done, he exchanges a look with the two men accompanying him before motioning to us to follow him.

  Velkan turns and raises his brows at me. “Now what? Are we about to be kidnapped?”

  I shrug. “Think positive. Maybe he’s a parts dealer in disguise.”

  “And maybe I’m a Syndicate Commander,” Velkan says.

  “Just do what they want for now and don’t insult them,” I say.

  We lead the party back up to the cargo bay where Ghil and Buir are waiting.

  “They want us to go with them now,” I say.

  “What for?” Ghil asks suspiciously.

  “I’m not sure,” I admit. “But I think they want to help us.”

  Ghil scratches his jaw. “We’ll follow them in the LunaTrekker. That way we can get away from them if we need to.”

  “That sounds marginally more appealing than riding those solarbald ponies out there,” Buir says, frowning.

  I tap Boshtee on the shoulder and point at the LunaTrekker and then at myself and the rest of the crew. He raises his brows and points at himself.

  I smile at him. “You can come too if you want.” I point at my ears and then the LunaTrekker, and make as loud an imitation of an engine sound as I can.

  He turns and mutters something to Zindera. She bows and takes off down the ramp with the two men in tow. With any luck, he sent them out to explain to the other tribespeople what’s happening and warn them how loud it’s going to be when we drive out there.

  “What do you want to do with Meldus’s body,” Velkan says when we reach the LunaTrekker.

  The searing pain of his loss hits again. I won’t dispose of him like Sarth did with Nipper’s body. The least I can do is lay him to rest with all the dignity a Cweltan warrior deserves. “We’ll take him with us and find a place to bury him.”

  Velkan gives a solemn nod. “I’ll grab some shovels.”

  We pile into the LunaTrekker and Ghil starts the engine. Boshtee flinches at the sound but seems more excited than nervous when the vehicle rolls forward and down the ramp. The tribespeople stare at us wide-eyed, parting hesitantly to let us through. Boshtee points in the direction he wants us to go in. Once we are clear of the crowd, Ghil accelerates to a comfortable cruising speed. I’m half expecting Boshtee to panic and scramble to get out of the vehicle, but he’s unperturbed by our increasing speed. I realize why a moment later when the solarbald ponies thunder past on either side of the LunaTrekker, kicking up a storm of white dust that severely impairs Ghil’s vision. He brakes hard and waits until the cloud disperses before revving the engine up again. “And there I was thinking we’d be sitting around waiting for them to catch up with us,” he grumbles.

  “I’m glad we befriended them and didn’t have to outrun them,” Buir remarks.

  “I wonder how far their settlement is?” Velkan asks.

  I shrug. “We have extra gas containers. We should be good unless it’s more than a day’s journey from here.”

  As it turns out, we’re underway less than an hour before Boshtee leans forward and jabs his finger excitedly at the sand up ahead. I frown and peer at the monochromatic dunes, unable to detect anything out of the ordinary. Ghil keeps on course, following Boshtee’s instructions. We’re rewarded minutes later when I spot a wrecked ship half buried in the sand.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s been here for decades,” Velkan says, leaning forward in his seat for a better look.

  Boshtee nods emphatically, looking pleased with himself. He flaps his hands like a bird again and points at the ship.

  I give him a frozen smile. I don’t want to burst his bubble, but this ship isn’t going anywhere ever agai
n.

  “We might be able to salvage some parts,” Velkan says, sounding dubious.

  Ghil pulls up alongside the ship where the rest of the tribespeople are waiting patiently. We climb out of the LunaTrekker and make our way over to the downed vessel. My heart sinks. Up close, it’s even more apparent that we won’t be going anywhere in it. The hull is rusted up and corroded through in several places. Based on its condition, I can’t imagine there’s anything inside worth salvaging. Boshtee meant well, but it looks like we’ve wasted our time coming here.

  “Might as well look inside now that we’re here,” Ghil says, sounding as frustrated as I feel.

  I lead the way to a gaping hole in the rear of the ship and duck through it. The space is musty and my nose begins to itch almost immediately. The floor has accumulated a thick layer of sand, and every object and surface is buried in white dust.

  “The engine room’s probably filled with sand too,” Velkan says.

  “We brought shovels,” I remind him. “We could dig it out.”

  “Waste of time. The equipment can’t be saved now.” He jerks his head at Boshtee, who’s followed us inside the hull with several of his men. “We’d best tell him. No sense wasting his time either.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” I say.

  I walk over to Boshtee and shake my head apologetically.

  He frowns, a perplexed look on his face.

  I bend over, lift a handful of sand and let it run through my fingers, before pointing to the equipment.

  Boshtee snaps his fingers and signals to several of his men. They cross over to a pile of crates at the back of the bay and quickly clear off the sand, before prying off the lids.

  Velkan walks back there and peers inside the first crate. “I can’t believe it.” He looks up with a glimmer of hope in his eye. “This must have been a transport vessel. These crates are full of parts. And they’re in decent shape, thanks to the airtight containers they were shipped in.” He casts a glance around the rest of the bay. “If we dig around, we might be able to find what we need, or at least something I can modify.”