Hotbloods 6: Allies

I nodded. “Just stressed.”

“Everything okay with the two of you? It looked a bit heated back there,” he pressed.

“It’s fine. We’re both just exhausted and worried about Lauren,” I insisted. “Anyway, what is the plan? Where do we go from here?”

“I think there might be some docking yards on the other side of the planet. These places usually have a designated half for repairs, recycling, and refuse, and another half for rest, refreshment, and recreation. The six Rs of any good port-planet.”

Bashrik grunted in agreement as we came to a standstill. “There might be a functional ship we can steal, without raising too much of an alarm. It would definitely put more distance between us and Xiphio’s ship, when he gets free, though I think he might be occupied for a while. I mean, Rask, I knew my girl could tie some good knots, but those were something else.”

“Your girl?” I teased, prompting his cheeks to flush. I might have felt distant from Angie, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t on her side, ready to interrogate her boyfriend at any moment.

Navan smiled. “Yeah, Bash, I don’t think we need to know what you two get up to in the privacy of your own chambers. That’s between you and her.”

“All I’m saying is, I think you could be right about the docking yards,” he mumbled, embarrassed. “I can go and check it out, if you like.”

“Mort and I will come with you,” Navan replied, but Ronad interjected.

“No way, compadre. I’m not having you wasting your energy flying all that way, with your wing the way it is, and Pandora here is flickering in and out of being a coldblood.”

Mort skidded to a halt to catch his breath, morphing back into his natural state. “Hey, feels good to let it all hang out!”

“Yeah, and we can see all of it,” Angie retorted, catching up. The pair of them cackled together. “What are we talking about, anyway? I couldn’t hear back there.”

Bashrik looked sheepish. “We were just talking about me going to the other side of the planet, to see if there are any ships we can steal.”

She frowned. “Did nobody listen to a word I said about taking risks?”

“Sometimes there are risks that need to be taken,” he replied, shrugging.

“And we won’t get off this planet if we don’t do something fast,” Navan added. She pouted, flashing me an accusatory look, as though I’d somehow talked them into it. She didn’t protest again, though, which I took to be a positive sign.

“We can press on and see if there’s a town up ahead while Bashrik investigates the other side of the planet,” I reasoned. “There must be somewhere all these mechanics and travelers go.”

Bashrik nodded. “Sounds like a good plan to me. I shouldn’t be too long. This planet isn’t very big.”

“We won’t stray far,” Navan promised, as his brother opened out his wings and braced himself against the ground, before pushing off and taking to the skies. We watched him until he was nothing but a speck on the horizon, though Navan’s gaze lingered a moment longer than the rest of ours did, a hint of envy flickering across his slate eyes.

“How’s your wing?” I asked solemnly, slipping my hand into his.

Ever since his return from Northern Vysanthe, where I’d discovered the top half of his wing had been blown off and replaced with an artificial flap, he’d more or less kept it bound to his side with bandages. With the attachment fixed in place, it was impossible for him to tuck it under his shoulder blade, the way he’d done with his good wing. I knew he missed having his wings at full capacity, but he never seemed to want to talk about it, always shrugging off my concerns with a forced smile.

“It’s fine,” he replied, giving my hand a squeeze. “Come on, we better find this town and see if we can get ourselves something to eat.”





After half an hour of walking through an endless array of battered, rusty ships and piles of forgotten parts, with our stomachs rumbling and our patience waning, we reached the bottom of a shallow slope. Clambering up it with what little strength we had left, clumps of dirt rolling away beneath our feet, we came to the end of the shipyard. Ahead of us, sprawling across a grassy plateau, was a large waystation, with chimneys billowing smoke and the scent of cooking wafting to us on the cool breeze that swept across the plain.

I was glad this planet wasn’t nearly as hot as Pulsyde had been, but my throat was still parched and ready to guzzle water. Hopefully, there’d be supplies at the waystation, though it was hard to see anything but a bunch of buildings right now.

“I’ll stay down in the shipyard. We don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves,” Ronad said, eyeing the town suspiciously. “Just pick me up some blood, and I’ll be a happy man. Mort, you should probably stay with me, too.”

“Poor baby. You think you’d be lonely without me?” he said.

Ronad scowled at him. “No, there’s just no way you’re being let loose in a waystation. I need to keep an eye on you.”

“Well, color me flattered,” Mort murmured. “I could probably do with drying out my flaps, to be honest. The sweat really collects in pools when it gets going!”

I made a face at Mort and shook my head. “So, is it just the three of us heading into the waystation?”

Angie shrugged. “You know what, I think I’ll stay down in the shipyard and wait for Bash. It looks crowded over there, anyway.”

I glanced over at the waystation. A steady stream of travelers headed into the cluster of ramshackle buildings, but there weren’t swarms of them by any means. Feeling my heart clench, I realized I was probably the one who was crowding her.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, then,” I said, turning to Navan, refusing to let Angie hear the hurt in my voice.

“I’ll always be up for that.” He lifted my hand to his lips, kissing it gently. There was reassurance in his eyes, his expression comforting me in a way no one else could. As long as I was with him, I could pretend that everything else was okay, and nothing could get to me.





Chapter Five





Navan and I headed for the waystation, while the other three walked back down the slope toward the edge of the shipyard. I didn’t look back as we pressed on, my gaze fixed on the corrugated iron and sporadic brickwork of the waystation, where all the other travelers were flocking.

We walked around to the far side of the compound, following the crowds toward a set of gates made from two sheets of patchworked metal, which had been strung up to a chain-link fence. They were wide open, leading through to a dusty courtyard, where several stalls had been arranged. Sellers shouted above the murmur of the crowd, offering their wares. Farther on, larger structures with cavernous archways led into echoing halls, where more traders were selling their goods to needy travelers.

To my surprise, the majority of our fellow travelers looked close to poverty, their clothes torn and faded, their faces showing the strain of a hard life. They bartered for scraps to repair their ships, though some of them spoke in a language I couldn’t understand, and nor could the traders, by the sounds of things. I figured, whoever they were, they weren’t from somewhere wealthy enough to have the language technology that Navan had.

“Twenty years I’ve been on this planet, slaving away to buy enough of these damned parts to get back home in my ship—and you tell me you don’t have a converter valve for a Brimenian Dreamrider! You told me last week you had one!” one hunched old woman cried. She had dark blue skin and prickles sticking out of her back, the spines bristling with anger.

The trader, a lizardy creature with orange skin and beady black eyes, simply shrugged. “What can I say, someone got here before you. If you want one, you come back next week, though the price is fifty credits.”

“It was twenty-five last week!” she howled.

“That’s inflation for you.”