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

by Norma Hinkens

  I stare at the screen, my heart racing. I can just about make out the faint outline of a person behind it. The enormity of the risk we are taking hits me. If we are caught conducting a dargonite deal on Aristozonex, I will never see the light of Cwelt again.

  Stefanov pulls a chair out for me at his desk. “You will remain on this side of the room at all times. I will handle the negotiations. After the terms have been hashed out, you will leave first. This meeting never happened. Do you understand?”

  I fix a stony gaze on him. “How do I know this isn’t a setup?”

  Stefanov smirks. “You don’t. You just have to trust your gut that I’m too greedy to let this opportunity slip through my fingers.” He walks across to the screen, leans around it and says something to the buyer in a low voice.

  “How much dargonite are you selling?” he asks me when he reappears.

  “Sixty Syndicate shekels,” I blurt out. I never even thought to weigh the dargonite, but sixty seems like a high enough number to spark some interest.

  “Where is it located? My buyer wants to see it first.”

  “It’s here,” I say, and then immediately regret it. After what happened to Doctor Azong, I should probably be more cautious about the details I divulge before I’ve secured a deal.

  Stefanov elevates his brows. “How did you get it past customs?”

  “It’s in a safe location,” I retort. “That’s all your buyer needs to know. Now let’s talk numbers. How much is your buyer willing to pay per shekel?”

  Stefanov retreats behind the screen and I hear a muffled conversation, but even straining to listen in, I can’t figure out what they’re saying. When Stefanov reappears a few minutes later, he throws me an exhilarated look. “Full market value. Three million credits per shekel.”

  I blink, uncertain how to respond. Three million. Did I mishear him? I frown at the screen while I try to calm my racing heart.

  Stefanov takes a step toward me, a flush creeping up his neck. “Three million isn’t enough? Are you out of your mind? Even allowing for my cut, you will have more than enough to lead a very comfortable life anywhere in the Syndicate.”

  I brush my fingers across my jaw as if contemplating the offer. Truth be told, I’m reeling from the ramifications. If sixty shekels can fetch one-hundred-and-eighty million credits, what would a whole mine be worth? Cwelt could quickly become one of the wealthiest planets in the galaxy. But we’d need a partner. I lift my head and look Stefanov square in the eye. “Ask your buyer if he is interested in negotiating a deal for mining rights.”

  Stefanov casts a skeptical look at me. “You know of a dargonite mine outside the jurisdiction of the Syndicate?”

  “Just ask your buyer.”

  Stefanov shrugs and sticks his head behind the screen again. When he reappears this time, he gives me a self-satisfied smirk. “My buyer is equally doubtful that you’ve located a dargonite source on a planet willing to sell off mining rights.”

  I assume my most regal High Daughter expression. “I own the rights.”

  A flicker of disbelief, followed by curiosity crosses Stefanov’s face. His eyes flit briefly to my hair. “Where is this planet?”

  “That’s irrelevant for now,” I say. “First, we need to come to some agreement.”

  Stefanov rubs his jaw thoughtfully. “My buyer wants to see the dargonite before any mining rights deal is struck. How about tomorrow morning?”

  I hesitate, wondering if it would be better to invite the buyer on board the Zebulux or bring the dargonite here. Transporting it would be an issue. Trying to hide sixty shekels of rock while we travel through Aristozonex in body-hugging jumpsuits poses quite the challenge. And until the credits have been transferred to my CipherSync, I’m leery of letting the dargonite off the Zebulux anyway.

  “All right, but it needs to be today. I have other business to attend to in the morning.”

  Stefanov nods and gestures to the door. “Wait for us upstairs. My buyer wants to discuss something with me in private.”

  I get to my feet and exit the room, already second-guessing my decision to allow another stranger on board the Zebulux. But what choice do I have? A legitimate buyer wouldn’t demand anything less than to inspect the goods before releasing that amount of credits.

  Inside the elevachute, I lean back against the wall, my legs weak beneath me. It’s really happening. We’re about to sell a couple of buckets of dargonite for an astronomical sum. After that, we can procure a warship and go back to liberate Cwelt.

  I exit the elevachute on the ground floor and make my way to the front of the pawn emporium. Stefanov’s daughter eyes me warily from beneath her glazed bob.

  “I didn’t introduce myself earlier,” I say, clenching my fist so I remember not to splay my hand. “I’m Trattora.”

  The girl sizes me up for a moment before beckoning me closer. “Look, I don’t know what it is you’re selling,” she whispers, “but I don’t like the look of your buyer’s bodyguard.”

  “What did he—” I trail off mid-sentence at the sound of footsteps approaching.

  “We’re ready,” Stefanov says, walking up to me. Behind him, a hooded figure in a full-length shimmering silver cloak comes into view accompanied by a larger hooded figure in a full-length black cloak. A bodyguard? A flicker of apprehension goes through me when I notice they are both wearing face masks. Maybe I shouldn’t have let them see my face either. Not trusting myself to speak, I give a discreet nod in their direction. Neither one acknowledges me, which I take as a sign that they’ll be communicating strictly through Stefanov.

  Stefanov turns to his daughter. “Leeta, if I’m not back in two hours, you know what to do.”

  Her eyes dart to the buyer and then back to her father. “Where are you going?”

  “We won’t be long.” He gestures to me. “We’re accompanying the seller to inspect the cargo.”

  Leeta throws me a long, foreboding look. Unnerved, I turn away from her piercing stare and walk toward the exit. Was she trying to warn me about something?

  I hurry down the steps to the curb. “I’ll let my friend know we’re leaving and hail a LevCab,” I call back to Stefanov.

  “That won’t be necessary,” he replies. “We can take my vehicle.”

  I turn to wave Velkan over but he has already left the cafe and is heading our way. He throws a dubious glance at the two hooded figures when he walks up. “Everything all right?”

  “The buyer wants to see the dargonite,” I whisper.

  Velkan rubs a hand across his jaw. “Ghil’s not going to like this. Bringing strangers on board is risky. Remember what happened with Doctor Azong?”

  “Easier this way than trying to bring the dargonite into Aristozonex.”

  Velkan looks unconvinced, but he doesn’t argue with me.

  We follow Stefanov and the two hooded figures to a parking structure at the end of the block. I look around the gleaming empty space wondering where the LevAutos are parked. Stefanov scans his CipherSync at the counter under the courteous gaze of an android attendant, and a moment later the wall behind us slides open. A sleek mushroom-colored vehicle floats out through the opening and parks alongside us.

  Stefanov gestures to the buyers to take the front row of seats.

  Velkan and I climb in after them and seat ourselves in the back, allowing Stefanov to sit in the row between us.

  “Where to?” Stefanov calls over his shoulder.

  “The docking station,” I say.

  “Traders. I thought as much.” He gives a command to the vehicle and then leans forward to say something to his buyer.

  “I’m thankful not to be sitting next to the silent assassin in the black hood,” Velkan whispers in my ear.

  I smother a laugh. “Not funny. Those masks spook me.”

  “They’re not taking any chances on us being able to identify them,” Velkan says. “That’s a good indication how dangerous it is to be caught trading in dargonite.”

 
“If I sell the mining rights, we could become one of the wealthiest planets in the galaxy.”

  “Assuming we can run the Maulers out of there,” Velkan points out.

  I grimace. “Which is another good reason to sell the mining rights—the buyers will be motivated to help us eject the Maulers.”

  “We’re almost at the docking station,” Stefanov says. “Which ship are we headed to?”

  “The Zebulux, berth 017-AG2,” Velkan replies.

  Minutes later we pass through the security gate and pull up outside the Zebulux.

  “I’ll open the cargo door,” Velkan says, climbing out. He walks around to the side of the hull and enters the code on the control panel.

  Once the door is fully retracted, Stefanov commands his vehicle to pull inside the cargo bay.

  “I’ll wait here with the buyers while you fetch the dargonite,” Velkan says to me when I get out. “Let Buir and Ghil know what’s happening; they can help you bring it down here.”

  I give a reluctant nod. I don’t like leaving him here alone, but one of us has to retrieve the dargonite.

  Ghil’s face hardens like steel when I tell him I brought more strangers on board.

  “They mightn’t be real buyers!” he yells, pacing in front of me. “They could be Minders rounding up fugitives for all we know.”

  “Calm down, Ghil,” Buir scolds. “If they were Minders, they would already be searching the ship. First things first. If they want to inspect the dargonite, we need to fish it out of the mush and rinse it off.”

  Ghil traces his fingers nervously back and forth over his lips. “We won’t turn it all over, just in case. They’ll be none the wiser, that way we’ll have a cushion if things go south.”

  I frown. “I told them we had sixty shekels of dargonite to sell.”

  “Good.” Ghil gives an approving nod. “That’s less than what’s in there.”

  “Let’s make this quick,” I say. “I don’t want to leave Velkan by himself for too long.”

  Buir fetches a sieve from the galley and starts fishing around in the mush for dargonite nuggets. As soon as she retrieves them she tosses them into the sink and I hurriedly wash them off. When I’m done, Ghil loads them into two buckets. It takes us less than ten minutes to pull out and clean off enough dargonite to be convincing.

  “You don’t have to come with us, Ghil,” I say. “They might have seen your face on the wanted holographs.”

  He furrows his brow. “If they’re legitimate buyers, the last people they’re going to involve is Minders. I reckon I’ll be safe enough with crooks.”

  I lead the way along the utility hallway and down the stairwell into the cargo bay. Ghil lumbers after me, the weight of the buckets dragging him down, but he stubbornly refuses my repeated offers of help. Buir brings up the rear, carrying some cups and a pitcher of infused water.

  Ghil plops the buckets down in the center of the cargo bay and takes a long, hard look at the buyer and his bodyguard. “What’s with the masks?” he grumbles. “Don’t you trust us or something?”

  The tall man in the black cape steps toward him and cocks his head in a menacing manner. “Not anymore, brother.”

  27

  A ripple of disbelief traverses Ghil’s face before he kicks into gear. He storms across the floor and rips the mask from Crank’s face. “Are you too spineless to walk in here and show your face?” he yells.

  Crank tightens his jaw, his eyes flashing a dangerous display of emotions. “You betrayed me.”

  Ghil shoves Crank in the chest, but he doesn’t budge.

  Stefanov edges slowly backward. He looks like he might be getting ready to make a run for it.

  “You betrayed me,” Ghil growls. “You struck a deal with Sarth to auction off one of our crew without telling me. Is that the kind of loyalty you show your own blood brother?” He turns and narrows his eyes at the hooded figure to Crank’s left, comprehension flooding his face. “Sarth!”

  She reaches up and deftly removes her mask, a cunning smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Hello, Ghil. I believe you’ve got something that belongs to me.”

  The thud of my heartbeat grows louder in my ears. How did she find us? I can’t let her rip everything away from us now that we’ve almost accomplished what we came here to do.

  “You left us no choice but to flee,” I say, stepping between them. “You can have your wreck of a vessel back, just as soon as we’re done with it.”

  Sarth tilts her head at me in a mocking manner. “For someone as bright as you are, you’re a tad forgetful. The cardinal rule on the Zebulux is that I own everything on board.” She gestures disparagingly at Velkan. “Even your serf boyfriend.”

  “That contract ended,” I retort. “Show her, Velkan.”

  He walks up to Sarth and turns his neck to one side.

  She narrows her eyes. “Dermal sculpting to hide a serf is a Syndicate felony. I could turn you in for identity fraud.”

  “But you won’t,” I say, with as much conviction as I can muster, “because then we’d inform the Syndicate about the illegal human auctions you participate in on Diretus, and your illicit trade with the body poachers, and even the deal you tried to make to get a hold of the dargonite. You’d spend the rest of your miserable life in a penal colony on the fringe.”

  Sarth wets her lips. “I had nothing to do with your auction. I had too much to drink and passed out. Someone rifled through my belongings and took my CipherSync and everything else in my pockets, including the lock of your hair.” She pauses and studies me for a moment as if trying to assess whether I’m buying her story. “I came here today to deal, not for revenge. We can sell the dargonite to one of my contacts in the dark market, split the proceeds and go our separate ways. I’m even willing to give up those mining rights you promised me.”

  “Why should I believe you?” I say. “You probably planned all along to auction me off once we reached Diretus.”

  Sarth nods across to Crank. He pulls out a small leather pouch from beneath his cloak and tosses it to me.

  I glance at it hesitantly. It weighs almost nothing. “What is this? If you’re trying to buy me off, it won’t work.”

  “Open it!” Sarth snaps, impatiently.

  I pull the drawstring and tip the contents into the palm of my hand. My eyes widen. I grit my teeth and let the bloodied finger fall to the ground. Buir glances down and screams. My stomach churns at the sight of the crusted blood on the graying flesh. I glare at Sarth. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  Crank crosses his thick, tattooed arms across his chest. “Consider it a small gesture of apology from the guard who dared to steal from Sarth.” He hefts a hairy brow upward. “I can connect you to his cell for a live confession if you want.”

  I shake my head vehemently, abhorred by the thought of what the guard must look like after being tortured by Crank and his henchmen. It still doesn’t prove Sarth’s story—Crank could torture a guard into confessing anything—but if they’re lying, they’ve gone to elaborate lengths to make sure we’ll still be willing to deal with them.

  I frown down at the floor, a troubling thought brewing in my head. Could Sarth have been responsible for Doctor Azong's death? She may well have found out that we had been in contact about a buyer. And if that’s the case, she tried to kill me too. Everything in me recoils at the thought of conducting a deal with Sarth, but I need to string her along, at least until I can find another buyer. “All right. Find us a buyer, and we’ll split the proceeds of the dargonite with you. Until then, the Zebulux remains in our possession.”

  Crank and Sarth exchange a fleeting glance. “Done.” Sarth rubs her hands together briskly. “Crank and I will meet with my contact tomorrow morning and get back to you by noon.” Her eyes scan the cargo bay as she turns to leave. “By the way,” she says. “It’s ninety-eight shekels of dargonite. Make sure it’s all accounted for.”

  I hold my breath until she and Crank disappear down the ramp. At some point
, Stevanov wisely made his escape. Velkan immediately closes the cargo door and we gather round in a subdued circle.

  Ghil stares at the LunaTrekkers, a glazed look in his eye.

  “You know Crank better than any of us,” I say to him. “Do you think he was telling the truth?”

  Ghil’s shoulders heave up and down. He shakes his head and turns to face us. “They’re lying through their teeth. They’re here for the dargonite, and they’ll say anything to get their hands on it.”

  “You don’t think they’ll find us a buyer?”

  Ghil lets out a scoffing laugh. “They’ll find themselves a buyer. If they do set up a meeting, it will be a trap, guaranteed.”

  “Now what are we going to do?” Buir asks.

  “Find our own buyer,” I say.

  Buir raises her brows. “How? We don’t have any contacts here.”

  “I’m not sure,” I say. “Maybe Ayma can help us.”

  An alarmed look flits across Velkan’s face. “Ayma? If she lives in the military quadrant that means her family is part of the Syndicate hierarchy. We can’t even hint at this to her!”

  “She’s from wherever we’re from.” I fix my gaze on Velkan. “She might be willing to help us.”

  Velkan shakes his head. “We’d be taking a huge risk.”

  I tweak a smile at him. “All I’ve done since you landed on Cwelt is take risks.”

  He laughs, sending a tingle down my spine. “Some risks are worth taking.”

  Buir groans and rolls her eyes. “Really? Sarth and Crank are plotting to steal the dargonite and do away with us, and you two are flirting.”

  “Negotiating would be a better word,” I say, tearing my eyes away from Velkan’s smile. “We’ll head to the military quadrant right after breakfast. If Ayma won’t help us, I’ll talk to Stevanov again. He has contacts in the dark market.”

  “I’ll stay with the Zebulux,” Ghil says, heading for the stairwell. “My mugshot can’t show up anywhere near the Syndicate military quadrant.”