Hotbloods 6: Allies

I didn’t have long to simmer over the situation, as the chug of a huge, barge-looking vessel thrummed through the faint tink-tink of the shipyard’s mechanics. It was by far the bulkiest ship I’d seen there, with black smoke rising out of several chimneys and a deafening engine that made us all cover our ears as it descended beside the rusted signpost.

As it clanged to a standstill, the interior turbines still whirring to a halt, a thick metal hatch heaved open and a gangway slid to the ground. A small group of mechanics and reclaimers came down first, dressed in overalls and boiler-suits of varying, muddied colors. They laughed amongst themselves, evidently familiar with one another, throwing heavy tool bags over their shoulders as they headed for the shipyard below.

A smaller cluster of well-dressed individuals followed, looking shifty. Their eyes settled on us with suspicion, but they didn’t pause to say anything. Instead, they hurried off after the workmen, clearly hoping to get a good deal on whatever it was they’d come here for.

“Where you wanting to go?” a voice asked from within the shadows of the transport. A moment later, a burly, bearded figure emerged, smoke puffing out of his mouth from a metallic device he held to his lips. He was a similar kind of creature to the old woman who’d been bartering for a part, though his skin was a lurid yellow and his spines were an equally fluorescent shade of green. I guessed, like in nature on Earth, the color scheme meant he was somehow poisonous.

“We were hoping you might take us back to the docking yards. We couldn’t find what we were looking for here,” Navan said confidently.

The spiny man shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. Hop on. Though I’ll warn you now, I don’t take requests. You go where I need to go, and that’s that.”

“That sounds fine to us,” Navan replied, ushering us up the gangway.

“Your sort sit through there,” he instructed, gesturing through a narrow corridor toward a deck at the far end of the barge.

We followed it, entering a surprisingly pleasant room with cushioned benches all around and a table full of refreshments. Most of the food had been eaten by our predecessors, but there was some good stuff left, and a pitcher of ice-cold water to wash it down. I was still full from the weird sandwich I’d eaten, but I knew better than to pass up an opportunity to eat for free. Grabbing some cookie-like bars, I stuffed them into my pockets, before downing a cupful of cool water.

Ten minutes later, with no other passengers boarding, the maintenance transport took off, ferrying us over to the wealthier side of Wander. From the window, I watched the landscape whizz past, homesickness rearing its ugly head again. Glancing down, I could have been looking at the fields of Texas we’d left, what felt like a lifetime ago.

Navan walked up to me, distracting me from the view of the world beyond the transport. Without a word, he slipped his arms around me and pulled me tightly to him, somehow knowing exactly what I needed. I clung to him, gripping him desperately, pushing back the tears that threatened to fall. Holding him like this made me remember that I wasn’t alone out here. Even if it felt like my friend hated me, I still had Navan, showing me that someone cared.

My gaze turned toward Angie, who was nestled into Bashrik’s chest on the bench opposite. I willed her to look at me, telling myself everything between us would be okay if she just looked back, but her eyes were closed.





Just under an hour later, we arrived at the swanky docking yards that Bashrik had spoken about. Gleaming vessels, forged from countless kinds of metal, were tucked into parking bays, their smooth curves reflecting the sunlight, blinding me through the window. Smartly uniformed dockworkers hurried along steel walkways, repairing the expensive-looking ships and bringing luggage to the inhabitants.

The transport driver set us down on a wide platform, where the dock walkways branched off in a crisscrossing network. A group of workmen were waiting to head over to the scrapyards, with a nervous cluster of finely dressed people standing behind them, looking like fish out of water.

As soon as the transport set down, we headed out into the hubbub of Wander’s wealthier side, moving toward the docks. At the far end, down a broad central avenue, elegant glass and chrome buildings rose up, looking sleek and futuristic. Although, I supposed this was the future, at least where humans were concerned.

“Let’s scope out the ships,” Navan said quietly, as we wandered down the central avenue between the docking bays, trying to look nonchalant.

“Mort, can you morph into one of the mechanics?” I asked, coming to a halt beside a vacant-looking vessel. There were no members of staff running around this particular bay, dressed in the smart navy-blue uniforms that marked them out.

The shifter rolled his eyes. “Little old me, coming to the rescue. Again. I should charge per change, for all the damage it’s doing to my poor body.”

“Quit your whining and get on with it!” Bashrik hissed. Evidently, he shared my fears—we were going to start drawing attention to ourselves if we didn’t move quicker.

“Sheesh, what pissed in your blood this morning?” Mort muttered, ducking behind a pillar so he could morph into one of the uniformed staff members. Emerging casually, he brushed down the front of his suit jacket and raised an amused eyebrow. “Now you have me, what do you want with me?”

I tilted my head toward the control panel on the ship’s door. “Knock and see if anyone’s home. If they aren’t, see what we’re going to need to break in.”

He sauntered toward the vessel, which Bashrik informed me was a streamlined leisure cruiser. We chatted amongst ourselves, pretending to be looking at something nearby. I kept one eye on Mort, realizing we were going to have to sprint after him if he managed to get into the ship. There was no way he was stealing a cruiser and getting out of here without the rest of us.

He came back a minute later, pulling a face. “It’s like a nun’s chastity belt up there—nobody’s getting in without a miracle.”

I shot him a disgusted look. “Keep it clean, Mort. What did you find?”

“Well, there’s no one home, but the entry system is maximum security,” he explained, pleased with himself. “That one needed a handprint and a retinal scan to get in. I imagine most of these ships will be the same. People don’t pay top dollar for things without a little insurance, you know?”

He was right; there was a good reason only a few guards were patrolling, and a couple of cameras were dotted about. These ships had enough security to take care of themselves.

A large group of laughing aliens brushed past us, dressed to the nines in sharp suits and elegant gowns. They were a mixture of different species and seemed to have come from one of the largest leisure cruisers. I watched them closely, wanting to know where they were headed. They sauntered down the avenue as if they owned the place, talking in obnoxiously loud voices about the best bar in the universe—the Galactis Club.

“Are you wearing that, darling?” a violet-skinned female asked another.

She cackled, clutching her diamond-encrusted chest. “Of course not, sweetie. I have a change in my purse. I wouldn’t be seen dead wearing these old rags in the Galactis!”

“My thoughts exactly, darling, my thoughts exactly!” the first woman shrieked, though they were both wearing two of the most stunning gowns I’d ever seen, dripping in jewels and made from an elegant, gauzy fabric that flattered their every alien curve.

“Now, you’ll be sensible, won’t you?” a blue-skinned male with a shock of silver hair asked. “We’re only stopping here to refuel, so I don’t want the pair of you getting all silly and drunk. Do I make myself clear?”

They both looked at him with saccharine smiles. “Of course not, Papa! We shall be the epitome of grace and restraint,” the first one said, before collapsing in a fit of giggles, her sister cackling along with her.