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

by Norma Hinkens

  Sarth opens up the thrusters and accelerates to the ship’s limits, leaving the cumbersome Dreadnought trailing in our wake, before swinging around one-hundred-and-eighty degrees and sending us into a hard dive behind the jagged peaks of a rocky planet. The deafening boom of the body poachers’ guns dissipates as Sarth navigates into position and brings the Zebulux down to land in the soft red silt that covers the planet’s surface.

  “Well, isn’t this the cheery landscape,” Sarth grunts, sliding out from the pilot’s seat and flexing her cramped fingers as she eyes the coral-colored dust swirling in menacing eddies through oxidized boulders and knife-edged outcroppings. “Not much chance of our ship being overrun by plague-infested inhabitants here. No one could survive in this harsh environment.”

  Crank’s flinty eyes flick around the arid horizon. “Visibility’s low. No telling how many infected are out there in some rudimentary commune.”

  “We won’t be here long enough to find out.” Sarth gives a dismissive wave. “In the meantime, let’s dig into that meal we’ve got going before it spoils.”

  My eyes dart to Buir. She gives a subtle nod and squeezes Ghil’s arm gently before rising to follow Sarth down the utility hallway to the galley. My mind races to piece together our next moves. Once Sarth and Crank are drugged, assuming Buir pulls it off, we won’t have time to waste. We’ll need to secure them both and take the ship airborne as soon as possible. They’re going to be hard to keep under control once they come back around. Crank might be strong enough to smash down a door for all I know. And we’ll already have our hands full trying to evade Furax. If we could only locate Phin and Ayma, we could ditch the Zebulux.

  When we reach the mess room, Crank turns to Sarth. “I’ll make sure everything’s holding up in the engine room after the attack.” He places a meaty paw on Velkan’s shoulder. “You come with me in case anything needs patching.”

  I exchange a panicked glance with Velkan. The plan was for Buir to drug Sarth and Crank together. If Crank comes back and finds Sarth comatose on the mess room floor, he won’t hesitate to blast us into oblivion with that new gun of his. Velkan inclines his head to me slightly as he exits the room, which I take as an indication that he wants me to go ahead with the plan. I hope he doesn’t try anything stupid to incapacitate Crank while he’s downstairs. Crank would snap his neck in half a heartbeat if he thought Velkan was up to something.

  Ghil, Sarth and I take a seat at the dining table, stomachs growling at the mouthwatering smells wafting our way from the galley. Sarth sets her gun down in front of her, sending a clear signal to the rest of us that she isn’t letting down her guard for one minute.

  Buir brings out a fresh pitcher of water and carries it gingerly over to us. “Food’s almost ready,” she says, a tad too brightly, and an octave too high. Her hand shakes, spilling a few drops of water, as she places the pitcher on the table. I cringe, willing her not to give the game away.

  “Sorry,” she says in a muted bleat. “The body poachers … you know …”

  Sarth glowers at her. “Pull yourself together, girl. They won’t find us down here.”

  I wipe beads of perspiration from my brow as Buir slips back into the galley. The attack has distracted Sarth, consuming her thoughts. With any luck, it won’t even occur to her to be wary of the food Buir’s about to serve her.

  When Buir reappears, Ghil gets to his feet to help her. She hands a plate to him with a knowing nod, and then passes a second plate through the galley door to him. “I’ll fetch the rest,” she says.

  I don’t dare take a breath as Ghil walks over to the table. He slides the first plate under Sarth’s nose, before sinking into the leather banquette and sniffing appreciatively at his own heaped plate. “Beef and dumplings! Smells mighty fine to a starving man.” He rams his fork into his food, shovels a generous amount into his mouth and chews with an appreciative moan or two.

  A moment later, Buir joins us with two more plates. She sets one in front of me, but keeps her eyes downcast. I take a tentative bite, trying not to look directly at Sarth, certain my guilt is inscribed on my face. I swallow a mouthful of food without even tasting it, wondering how long it will take the sedative to kick in. Sweat prickles beneath my hairline as the minutes tick by. Did Buir add enough drops from the vial to do the job? What if Sarth doesn’t finish her food?

  I needn’t have worried about Sarth’s appetite. She scarfs down her dumplings and gestures impatiently to Buir for a refill. Halfway through her second plateful, her movements grow sluggish and I stop chewing, watching with morbid fascination as her red-veined eyes roll to the back of her head and she slumps to one side.

  “Quick!” I jump to my feet. “We need to hide her before Crank returns.”

  Ghil nudges Buir. “Help Trattora with Sarth. I’m gonna make a run for the control room and try and contact Ayma and Phin on an encrypted radio frequency.” He slips out the door before I can talk him out of it. Maybe he feels safe wandering around the ship now that Sarth’s out of the picture and he only has his brother to worry about. I hope he hasn’t underestimated Crank’s ruthlessness. Crank won’t think twice about slitting his own brother’s throat if it comes down to it.

  Heart racing, I grab one of Sarth’s legs and help Buir drag her into the storeroom at the back of the galley. I reach for her gun and unbuckle her holster.

  “What are we going to tell Crank when he gets back?” Buir asks, as I slam the storeroom door shut and lock it.

  I lean against the wall and catch a breath, while I secure Sarth’s holster around my waist. “We’re not going to be here.” I glance at the pot still simmering on a convection plate. “Add the rest of the sedative to the dumplings left in the pot. Ghil can let his brother know over the intercom that we ate and returned to the control room with Sarth. With any luck, Crank will eat before he joins us.”

  Buir stares at me, frowning. “What about Velkan?”

  I swallow hard. “He’ll have the sense not to eat too much of it. Hurry! It won’t be long before they’re back.”

  Buir peeks around the corner of the galley to make sure we’re clear and then carefully extracts the vial from her hair and dumps the remaining contents into the pot before giving it a vigorous stirring.

  I smooth a hand over my clammy forehead. I hope I’m doing the right thing and that Velkan will understand. This is the safest way to neutralize Crank while we make our escape. He’s far too dangerous and strong for any of us to tackle. I still haven’t decided what to do with him and Sarth beyond drugging them and locking them up for now. We could kick them off the ship and leave them behind on this plague-ridden planet, but it would be a death sentence. They deserve it for all they’ve done, but I’m not willing to be their executioner. We’ll have to take them with us for now.

  Back in the control room, we find Ghil engrossed at the console. His face lights up when he sees us. When he speaks, his voice is raspy with emotion. “Phin and Ayma are safe. They made it out of Aristozonex!”

  Relief rushes over me like a tidal wave. I sink down in a chair. “Where are they?” I ask, my words tumbling out.

  “I gave them our coordinates. They’re on their way here,” Ghil replies.

  Buir furrows her brow. “Won’t the Syndicate track their stolen ship?”

  An ironic smile tugs at the corners of Ghil’s lips. “They took the stealth fighter. Ayma reset the codes for it, so once she escaped with Phin in the ship Branthorx had waiting for them, she was able to activate the stealth fighter remotely.”

  “So, the Syndicate knows it’s gone, but can’t track it?” I ask, shaking my head at Ayma’s audacity.

  “Not as long as it’s in stealth mode, possibly not at all now that Ayma overwrote the original codes.” Ghil chuckles. “Their own technology is working against them.” He glances over my shoulder. “Where’s Velkan?”

  “He and Crank aren’t back from the engine room yet,” I explain.

  Alarm flickers across Ghil’s face. “We c
an’t leave Velkan alone with Crank. If he finds Sarth unconscious, he’ll turn on Velkan.”

  “He won’t find her,” I say. “We stuffed her into the supply closet in the galley and locked the door.”

  “And we added the rest of the sedative to the dumplings in the pot,” Buir adds. “With any luck, Crank will eat before he joins us.”

  “We need you to get on the intercom and tell him we ate already and Sarth ordered us back here,” I say.

  Ghil eyes me skeptically. “You’re all right with drugging Velkan too?”

  I give a hesitant shrug. “There was no other way to do it without arousing Crank’s suspicions. Velkan won’t eat much, he’s too smart for that.”

  Ghil flattens his lips into a disapproving line, but he flicks on the intercom and relays our message.

  “How long until Phin and Ayma arrive?” Buir asks.

  “Based on the coordinates they gave me, they should be here by early afternoon,” Ghil replies.

  “So, if all goes according to plan we’ll be back on the stealth fighter and out of here before either Sarth or Crank wake up,” I say.

  “Or Velkan,” Ghil chides me. “We’re going to have to carry him off the ship.”

  “We’ll drive off in one of the LunaTrekkers,” I say. “I don’t want to be blinded by that flaming dust out there. Maybe that’s how the plague’s spread.”

  We fall silent as the minutes pass, the tension in the room steadily mounting. I chew on my lip, half-expecting Crank to kick open the door and mow us down with his plasma gun. What if the sedative has no effect on his huge frame? What if Velkan tried to knock him out in the engine room and Crank turned on him? They may not have made it back to the galley at all.

  An hour passes and I jump to my feet. “We’ve given it more than enough time. They’re either drugged up and comatose, or something went wrong. Either way, it’s time to find out.”

  Ghil nods and undoes his harness.

  I lay a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat. “Someone needs to be here in case Crank shows up. I’ll take Buir with me. We’ll be okay. We have Sarth’s gun.”

  We exit the control room before Ghil can protest and make our way cautiously back down the gray, hexagonal hallway. I pull out the plasma gun, push the keypad to activate the door to the mess room and step inside.

  My heart lurches against my ribcage when I see the body.

  8

  Velkan lies sprawled across the dining table, drool trickling from one side of his mouth. The room spins around me, one thought front and center.

  Did I kill him?

  I drop to my knees and check for a pulse, moaning with relief when I detect a steady rhythm. I do a quick scan of the space, but there’s no sign of Crank anywhere.

  My eyes dart to the galley, a blistering fear prickling down my spine. He might be passed out in there, but he could be hiding. I put a finger to my lips to warn Buir to stay quiet, and then tiptoe across the mess room floor, and cautiously poke my head around the doorframe.

  Crank’s not crashed out on the floor like I’d hoped, but at least he doesn’t stick a gun to my temple. Sarth’s not banging on the storage room door, so it’s safe to assume she’s still out cold. I holster my gun and eye the dried-out remnants of the dumplings atop the stove. Most of the pot’s contents have been devoured. I grimace. If the sedative wasn’t strong enough to knock Crank out, then he’s still at large, and now he knows what we’re up to.

  I hurry back out to Velkan, shove a half-eaten plate of food to one side, and shake him by the shoulders. “Velkan! Can you hear me?” I check to make sure he’s still breathing and then try again. “It’s me, Trattora.”

  He doesn’t even flinch. I shoot Buir an anguished look. “No sign of Crank. The sedative may not have worked on him. We’ll have to hunt him down and make sure he’s out of commission.” I fight back the guilt that threatens to derail me as I lay Velkan gently back down on the seat. “Most of the food in the pot is gone,” I say. “I’m guessing Crank ate his fair share.”

  She casts a jittery glance at the door. “We don’t know that for sure. We should head back to the control room and warn Ghil that Crank’s unaccounted for.”

  “We can’t leave Velkan alone,” I say, my voice ragged with emotion. “What if Crank comes back?”

  “He’s too heavy for us to carry,” Buir says.

  “Then we’ll fetch a supply cart from the cargo bay. We can wheel him in that.”

  She stares at me, her pupils dilated with fear. “What if Crank went down there?”

  “We’ll use the gun if we need to. Come on!” I tug her in the direction of the stairwell. It’s only when we reach the door to the lower deck that I realize our problem. We don’t know the reentry code. Once that metal door clangs shut, we’ll be trapped in the cargo bay. I grit my teeth as I weigh our options. “You’re going to have to stay here and open the door when I get back with the cart,” I say to Buir.

  Her silver eyebrows elevate in alarm. “Don’t you think we should stick together?”

  “I’ll only be gone for a couple of minutes,” I reassure her. “I’ll knock three times on the door so you know it’s me.”

  I don’t wait for her answer before slipping through the door. Despite my reassurances, the truth is that Crank could reappear at any minute, and our best chance of survival is for all of us, including Velkan and Ghil, to be together in one place when he does.

  Heart knocking against my ribs, I tread carefully onto the iron stairwell, taking care not to let the door slam behind me before I descend to the lower level. The main lights in the cargo bay are switched off. I blink around in the gloom to get my bearings, trying to remember where I saw the supply carts. Everything in the underlit cargo bay seems to be watching me. Or maybe Crank is hiding behind the shadowy crates and cylinders, and it’s his cold eyes I feel piercing my skin. I shudder at the thought and run my hand over the reassuring bulge of the plasma gun on my hip.

  Summoning my courage, I peek over my shoulder to make sure no one is sneaking up on me. My breath baulks in my throat when another horrifying thought comes to mind. Crank could be prowling around anywhere on the ship. What if he comes across Buir waiting alone upstairs, defenseless? The possibility motivates me to spring into action. I scan the space more thoroughly and spot the supply carts parked behind the LunaTrekkers. I listen for a moment, and when I hear nothing, I pad across the floor, untether a cart and wheel it back to the stairwell.

  Climbing back up to the next level with the unwieldy cart proves more difficult than I anticipated, and I flinch every time the cart accidentally clangs against a step. When I finally reach the top, I knock sharply three times. The door slides open and Buir reaches out a hand to help me. Adrenalin pumping, we head back down the hallway to the mess room.

  Maneuvering a deadweight Velkan onto the cart proves to be no easy task either. His long limbs spill over the edge, and even between the two of us, we almost drop him a couple of times before we manage to prop him in such a way that he won’t roll off it once we push him through the door.

  “Hold his legs,” I say to Buir, gripping Velkan’s shoulder with one hand as I shove the cart out into the hallway.

  As soon as Ghil sees us at the control room door, he jumps up and helps us lift a limp Velkan into one of the bucket seats behind the pilot’s chair. “Is he all right?” Ghil asks dubiously.

  “He’s breathing, but unresponsive,” I reply. “Most of the food in the pot is gone, but I don’t how much of it he ate.”

  “Any sign of Crank?” Ghil asks, a strained expression on his face.

  I shake my head. “He’s not in the mess room or galley, and he’s not in the cargo bay either—I went down to grab the cart.”

  “Velkan might have knocked him out in the engine room,” Ghil muses, sounding unconvinced by his own theory.

  “Why would Velkan eat the drugged food in that case?” I ask.

  Ghil shrugs. “Maybe he was hungry.”

&
nbsp; Buir rolls her eyes. “He wouldn’t risk ingesting the sedative if he didn’t have to. The only reason he ate it is so Crank wouldn’t be suspicious, which means Crank was there with him.”

  “Evidently Crank didn’t eat enough of it if he’s still out there.” I finger Sarth’s plasma gun at my side. I can’t help wondering if I will have the courage to use it if I come face to face with Crank. There won’t be time to second guess myself in the moment.

  Ghil gestures at my weapon. “Give me the gun. I’ll look for him.”

  I hesitate. Whatever doubt I have about my resolve to shoot Crank pales in comparison to the doubt I have that Ghil will shoot his own brother.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Ghil throws a discreet glance Buir’s way. “Crank may be my brother but if he’s a threat to anyone on this ship, I won’t hesitate to take him out.” His voice is husky with emotion; not sorrow, something far more tender. He’s made it abundantly clear that Buir is his overriding concern and that he will do anything to protect her. I want to believe that includes killing Crank.

  “Be careful,” I say, passing him the gun. “If you won’t hesitate, then neither will he.”

  I don’t miss Buir’s sharp intake of breath when Ghil disappears through the doorway. Their affection for one another has only grown stronger since their time together on Aristozonex—after all, they only had each other to cling to when we left for Mhakerta, with no assurance that any of us would return.

  “Ghil will be fine,” I say, with as much conviction as I can muster. “He can predict Crank’s moves better than anyone.”

  “I almost lost him once already.” The tremor in Buir’s voice betrays her strained emotions. “I can’t go through that again.”

  I splay my hand to hers, knowing words are inadequate. Ghil is going after his brother to protect us, and he’s willing to pay the ultimate price if that’s what it takes. Buir is under no illusions—she risked as much for Ghil by staying behind to look after him at the Fleet Commander’s house.