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

by Norma Hinkens

  My LevCab drops to the ground and pulls up a short distance from the main security gate outside the military quadrant. Security drones descend on me, scanning me and feeding my data into the Syndicate database. I approach the gate, but instead of being addressed by an electronic voice, a masked guard steps toward me and whisks me into a sleek LevAuto. I open my mouth to ask if he is taking me to see the Fleet Commander, but I think better of it. Wherever he’s taking me, I don’t have any choice in the matter, so I may as well wait it out and focus on my plea for my people.

  I turn my attention to the window, keeping my eyes peeled for Ayma’s gleaming glass residence. Buildings flash by below us, but none look familiar. The farther we travel, the more industrial the buildings become. My heart sinks. If this guard really is taking me to the Fleet Commander, then we must be meeting at an undisclosed location. It doesn’t bode well for my safety if things don’t turn out as I hope. I wonder if Ayma even knows where I am.

  My suspicions are confirmed when we descend into a barricaded yard overgrown with weeds and pull around to the back of a large military hangar which has fallen into disrepair. Obviously, this meeting is strictly off the record. My stomach knots. Steel doors slide apart at our approach and the LevAuto rolls inside. I twist my hands nervously in my lap, awaiting direction. The guard says something into his CipherSync and then gestures to me to get out. I step out into the hangar and glance around, one hand protectively over my BodPak containing my remaining nuggets of dargonite and my bracelet. The guard does a quick sweep, weapon in hand. There’s no sign of anyone else in the hangar. What if the real reason they brought me here is to find out where I got the dargonite and then kill me? I’m only carrying a tiny dagger that Ghil gave me for protection. Without the element of surprise, it will be next to useless against a well-trained guard.

  I turn at the sound of voices wafting into the hangar. The rolling doors open again and a heavily armed group of masked guards walks through, followed by two men in putty-colored scrubs, pushing some kind of scientific machine on a wheeled cart. I suck in my breath. Are they here for me? The guards part and a tall man in the center strides toward me, his black knee-high leather boots pounding out a forbidding chant, his cloak flapping from his shoulders, the ominous flaming planet Syndicate insignia on his stiff collar.

  I stand motionless, a helpless sacrifice, like all the prey I’ve ever hunted. His eyes burrow into me. Instinctively, I bow, acknowledging the authority he exudes.

  When I lift my head, he looks me up and down with a keen sweep of his eyes.

  “I have never had reason to doubt my daughter, Ayma, before,” he says, with a sardonic smile, “but when she requested that I meet with a teen trader who claims to be the sole heir of a dargonite mine on a fringe planet, I confess I hesitated.”

  “A prudent ruler contemplates before taking action,” I say, inclining my head.

  His lips tug up at the corners. “Wise words coming from a peasant woman.”

  “Perhaps the wisdom of elders from a primitive planet has universal application,” I reply.

  Something shifts in his expression, and I see the recognition in his eyes that I am someone to be taken seriously. He flexes black-gloved fingers. “You have evidence of this mine?”

  I slip my hand into my pouch and pull out two of my four remaining pieces of dargonite. I open my palm and stretch it out toward him.

  He signals to one of his guards who deftly retrieves the nuggets and hands them to the men in scrubs. They place them into the machine and study them through an optical scanner. One of them looks up and gives an unsmiling nod.

  The Fleet Commander turns his attention back to me. “You found this dargonite on your planet?”

  “Yes, there are large outcroppings there, all unmined. My people have been cut off from the trade routes for fourteen moons. We had no knowledge of the value of dargonite until recently.”

  “What do these outcroppings look like?”

  “Breathtakingly beautiful,” I say without hesitation. “Luminescent, they catch the rays of the sun and sparkle a myriad of shades. Mostly, though, they are a deep indigo, striated with feathers of primary colors.” I smile. “They are smooth to the touch, and cold. Even under the sun’s rays, they don’t retain heat, as I’m sure your scientists already know.”

  The Fleet Commander folds his arms and scrutinizes me. “I’m aware of the reports of Maulers taking over the eastern arterial trade route. How long has your planet been under siege?”

  “A few weeks. My people fled to the underground caves before the Maulers landed. Their supplies will last two or three months, at most.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “I took shelter on a visiting oremongering vessel when the Maulers attacked. We had no choice but to depart when they turned their missiles on our ship.” I pause to calm my breathing, drawing on everything my mother ever taught me about remaining regal in the face of pressure. “My people will perish if I don’t return with help soon.”

  The Fleet Commander furrows his brow. “Where is your planet located?”

  “Cwelt is a fringe planet near a defunct trading route in the Netherscape.”

  The guard on his right leans over and whispers something to the Fleet Commander. He narrows his eyes and studies me with a renewed air of skepticism.

  “You were raised on this planet, Cwelt?”

  I nod, unsure whether I should explain the strange circumstances of my arrival.

  “I’m told Cweltans are a silver-haired people,” the Commander says, his tone like steel.

  “That is true.” I hold my chin high. “I was brought there by traders as a young child and adopted by the chieftain.”

  The Commander’s brows rise, and something in his face softens. “My daughter is also adopted.”

  He turns to the guard on his right, snapping into military mode. “Deploy the fleet tonight. We will liberate the planet and reopen the trade route.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice choking.

  “The Syndicate is not a galactic charity,” he continues, in a chilly tone. “We will assume all mining rights to the dargonite in return for saving your people. I expect your full cooperation in the matter.”

  I breathe slowly in and out, without breaking his gaze. “The Syndicate is also not a galactic crook, Fleet Commander. Compensate Cwelt with military defenses for the mining rights and we have a deal.”

  He stares at me for the longest time. “You remind me so much of my daughter. You have displayed extraordinary courage in coming here and advocating for your people. Such courage merits the resources you request. If the dargonite exists, as you claim, Cwelt will emerge from this as the most well-defended planet on the fringe with a fleet unequalled in the Netherscape.”

  I bow my thanks, not trusting myself to speak.

  The Fleet Commander turns and strides across the hangar, followed by his entourage, leaving me alone with the guard who escorted me here. He gestures to the LevAuto and I climb back inside, shaking as the adrenalin leaves my body. I desperately want to link to Ayma and talk to her, but her father will likely tell her the news himself. I’ll contact her later and proposition her with the second part of my plan—going after the Zebulux.

  I exit the military quadrant under the watchful gaze of the guard and hail a LevCab. Safely inside, I sink back in the seat and close my eyes. Despite all my experience as High Daughter on Cwelt, holding court with the Syndicate’s most powerful military figure was a daunting prospect. I’ve sacrificed the dargonite to save my people, but at least I salvaged something out of the arrangement. Cwelt will be safe from future raids by Maulers or any other Galactic pirates in the Netherscape. Now it’s time to focus on rescuing Buir.

  Minutes later, the LevCab deposits me outside the pawn emporium. I make my way through to the back of the store without encountering either Stefanov or his daughter, and take the elevachute down to the basement.

  Velkan is dozing in a chair inside Stefanov’s
office. He startles awake and rubs his eyelids sleepily. “Back already?”

  “I’ve been gone for almost two hours.” I plonk down on the edge of the desk. “Do you want to hear some good news?”

  Velkan straightens up, suddenly alert. “Tell me you didn’t steal a ship.”

  I shake my head. “The Fleet Commander deployed the fleet. They depart for Cwelt tonight.”

  A look of astonishment mingled with admiration spreads across Velkan’s face. “I didn’t think he would go for it.”

  “He went for the mining rights.” I grimace. “No surprise there. But I negotiated military defenses for Cwelt. We will finally possess our own fleet of ships. I’ll have my own ship. You know what that means, don’t you?”

  A troubled expression clouds Velkan’s eyes. “You still want to go to Mhakerta after what Ayma told us?”

  “Especially after what Ayma told us. Our parents risked everything to save us. Now it’s our turn to save them. This isn’t the time to succumb to fear.”

  “I’m not scared of what we’ll find on Mhakerta; I’m scared of losing you,” Velkan says, his voice growing quiet.

  We jerk around when the door slides open behind us. Stefanov comes into the room and stares at us, a dazed expression on his face.

  “I’m afraid she’s …” He swallows hard, pulling his arched brows into pinnacles above the apprehension churning in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I reach for his sleeve and shake him. “Is it Leeta?”

  34

  My mind races to the scene in the alleyway. I should have told Stefanov what we saw. Leeta is playing a dangerous game splitting her allegiance between the two men in her life. I hope nothing has happened to her.

  “It isn’t Leeta,” Stefanov says. “It’s the doctor.”

  “Doctor X?” I say, a new angst niggling in my gut. “What about her?”

  Stefanov frowns. “I’m sorry.”

  I throw an alarmed look at Velkan. Why is Stefanov apologizing to us?

  Velkan gets to his feet. “Is Ghil all right?”

  Stefanov runs a hand over his jaw, a grave expression on his face.

  “Answer him! Where’s Ghil?” I yell, jumping to my feet.

  “He’s in the warehouse. She … botched the procedure.”

  The breath in my lungs turns to ice. Velkan and I exchange a fleeting glance and then turn and race out of the room. We tear along the musty hallway and burst through the door into the warehouse where we left Ghil.

  Stefanov’s LevAuto is still parked in the same spot, but the mobile surgical unit is gone. At first, I can’t see any sign of Ghil anywhere. I scan the room again and then I spot what appears to be the edge of a gurney sticking out from an aisle of shipping boxes. My legs barely support me as I run toward it. I pull up short, and Velkan bumps into me from behind. We stare in disbelief at Ghil’s reconfigured face—angular nose, firm jaw, smooth skin and blemish-free complexion. No trace of the crusted blood or bruises from a few short hours ago. It looks nothing like him. But he’s wearing Ghil’s clothes. “Ghil!” I whisper to the sleeping figure covered in an aluminum blanket.

  I shake him gently and call his name again, but he doesn’t respond. Stefanov’s words sear my brain. She botched the procedure.

  “No!” I whisper, scrunching the blanket in my fist.

  I watch, panic-stricken, as Velkan checks for a pulse. His hand shakes as he removes it. “He’s alive! Barely.”

  I gasp like a drowning woman who’s just been rescued. Hope sears a course through me. “We’ll take him to Ayma,” I say, scrabbling for the rails on the gurney. “She can access the best doctors in the Aristozonex. Help me get him into Stefanov’s LevAuto.”

  Velkan turns the gurney and pushes it forward. “I don’t know if he’ll make the trip.”

  “Stefanov will pay for this,” I say, through gritted teeth. “That doctor probably wasn’t licensed.”

  I feel dizzy, my breath coming in ragged spurts. How could this have happened? I wanted to help Ghil—give him back his freedom—not hurt him.

  We wheel the gurney over to Stefanov’s LevAuto and lift Ghil gently inside. He’s so still that I fear he has passed already, but I don’t dare ask Velkan to check for a pulse again. As soon as the door closes and Velkan gives the command to take us to the military quadrant, I link to Ayma and put my CipherSync on speaker. “We need your help,” I say breathlessly, when she responds.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The doctor botched the procedure. Ghil’s unconscious.”

  “Is the facial reconfiguration complete?” Ayma asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “He’s unrecognizable.”

  “Bring him here. I’ll have a team of doctors waiting in our medical wing.”

  I sink back against the seat in relief. I wasn’t sure Ayma would agree to help us. If she’s caught assisting an escaped fugitive, it could jeopardize her future career with the Syndicate military, and maybe her life. She must feel a strong connection to us if she’s willing to risk everything. The bracelets have bonded us.

  Velkan commands the LevAuto to attain the maximum speed and we reach the military quadrant in record time. The burly guard at the security booth is obviously expecting us. He opens the gate immediately and within seconds, Ayma’s LevAuto pulls up to take us to her residence. For once, no security drones pester us. The guard singlehandedly transfers Ghil into the waiting vehicle. I’ve no idea what Ayma told him, but whatever he’s thinking behind his mask, he’s following her instructions unquestioningly.

  When we reach Ayma’s residence, the LevAuto glides to a stop out front. Ayma’s face is strained when she appears at the front door, accompanied by two doctors wheeling a gurney. They waste no time taking Ghil from the guard’s arms and whisking him away. I bite my lip, unsure if I’ll ever see him again. I blame myself for what happened. I shouldn’t have trusted Stefanov to find me a dermal sculptor.

  Ayma ushers us inside and down the hall to her office. The burly guard at our tail takes up a position outside the door.

  “They’ll do everything they can,” Ayma says when the door closes behind us. “I can’t make any promises.”

  “Thank you,” I say in a hoarse whisper. I toss my BodPak on the floor and sink down on a chair. “How did you explain it to the doctors?”

  She gives a one-shouldered shrug. “I told them I wanted to help out a classmate’s father who used a dark market doctor to save credits. They know I’ve got a big heart.”

  I flash her a grateful grin.

  “If he survives, he’ll need to stay here to recover,” Ayma says.

  I nod. “In the meantime, I have to find Buir. And I need a ship to do that.”

  Ayma frowns. “My private shuttle is only a small commuter vessel for getting around the Aristzone.”

  “That’s not what I had in mind,” I say. “We’ll need a warship. Sarth isn’t going to hand Buir over unless she has no alternative.”

  “My father already left for Cwelt. Anyway, he wouldn’t deploy a warship to recover a stolen oremongering vessel and a kidnapped peasant from a fringe planet.”

  I lean toward her. “Surely he didn’t take the entire fleet.”

  “Everything except for the stealth fighter prototype—the top secret dargonite coating technology project I hacked into.”

  I shrug. “Perfect.”

  Her eyes widen and then narrow. “You can’t possibly imagine you could take the stealth fighter and pursue the Zebulux yourself?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it! I’m planning on taking you and Velkan with me.”

  Ayma flicks me an irritated look. “You know humor in times of crises is overrated.”

  “I wasn’t joking.”

  Her frown deepens. “You expect me to hack back into the military database and authorize this?”

  “Exactly!”

  “No!” Ayma folds her arms across her chest and stares at me defiantly.

  “I only need to borrow a ship,” I say. “
Your father has already granted Cwelt full military defenses. I’ll own my own ship after he liberates my planet. But right now, time is of the essence to save Buir.”

  “The Syndicate would strip me of all my privileges if they found out,” Ayma says. “My father could lose his position. They might even send my parents to the penal colonies.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Velkan says. “The Zebulux is a slow-moving and tired vessel. We could track it and reach it in a matter of hours and be back long before your father reaches Cwelt.”

  “If you knew Buir as I do, you wouldn’t hesitate to risk everything for her,” I say. “She’s the most thoughtful and kind person I know. She even brought Ghil out of his crusty old shell. I’ve confided in her from the very first day I arrived at Cwelt. She knows me better than anyone. And it’s my fault she’s in this situation. She didn’t want to leave Cwelt to begin with, but the decisions I made left her with no choice.” I blink back burning tears. “Sometimes people are forced to make difficult choices—just like our birth parents did to save us.”

  Ayma’s posture remains rigid, but her eyes soften. She presses her knuckles to her lips and ponders her decision for a few minutes. “All right,” she says with a sigh. “I can log in and deploy it on a top-secret mission with only high-level clearance. The monitors will assume my father authorized it for his mission to liberate Cwelt.”

  “How will we get on board?” Velkan asks. “Aren’t there cameras everywhere at the base?”

  Ayma’s lips tug up at the corners. “We won’t be on the stealth fighter when it departs Aristozonex. We’ll take my private shuttle and board a hundred miles out within our atmosphere. That’s as far as my shuttle can go.”