Hotbloods 6: Allies

As the cruiser pushed through the Junkyard’s atmosphere, I could see that it was a very urban planet, with haphazard structures sprawling across the surface, and not a patch of greenery in sight. There were stretches of what appeared to be water, but instead of deep blue, they were a sludgy shade of brown. Everything looked rusty and grimy, with hills of scrap metal and graveyards of burnt-out ships instead of mountains and valleys. Plumes of thick smoke billowed from patchwork buildings, and vessels were taking off and setting down all over the place.

Navan wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, holding me tightly to him, as we descended toward a particularly scrappy-looking part of the planet, where no smoke billowed and no ships seemed to be visiting. Fortunately, it appeared to be quite close to the flashing green dot, but not so close that we’d risk anyone bumping into our cruiser.

“The Vysantheans took control of this planet decades ago,” he murmured sadly. “It used to be covered in fertile forests and grassy plains, with a native species and a thriving ecosystem. They came here and destroyed it, the same way they’ve done with so many other planets. When it was finally barren, with nothing left to give, the Vysantheans left it to die, abandoning it to whoever came along first.”

“Gangsters, pirates, and thieves?” I said wryly.

“Hey, it’s like I keep saying—Vysantheans are all those things, just with nicer clothes!” Mort chimed in, cackling to himself. “Only, when they do it, it’s called ‘cultural exchange’ and ‘pioneering.’ Am I right?”

Navan ignored him as we watched the ground rise to meet us. We’d picked a spot beside a polluted canal, with Bashrik tucking the ship behind a high stack of scrap metal, where nobody seemed to be walking. A few boats went past, the clang of metal chiming through the smog that drifted off the grimy water, but the parking spot appeared to be just what we were looking for. The smog gave us a bit of extra cover to sneak out of the cruiser and onto the planet’s surface.

“So, who’s coming?” I asked, as the ship came to a standstill. Taking the compass off the dashboard, I moved through the cockpit and over to the hatch with the others. Leveling my gaze at them, I slid a gun into the waistband of my pants and strapped a knife around my calf. There was no way I was being left behind, not when Lauren was waiting out there.

“If you’re going, I’m going,” Navan replied firmly, doing the same with another gun and knife.

“I’ll come along too,” Bashrik said, reaching out for a third set.

Mort shrugged. “Not looking forward to wandering around a rusty crap-hole, to be honest.”

Ronad grimaced. “I guess someone needs to stay behind and guard the ship. Preferably, someone who can fly this thing and keep Mort from touching everything,” he muttered, flashing a warning look at the shifter.

“I do love getting in all the crevices,” he whined, pouting his fleshy lips and licking them licentiously.

I shuddered. “Just try not to frighten poor Ronad away, okay?”

“Spoilsport,” he murmured, pretending to sulk.

“Angie, you coming?” I asked, knowing she’d want to be there when we found Lauren.

She bit her lip. “I really want to come and find her, but I’m not very good with a gun. Do you think I’ll be okay out there?”

Before I could even open my mouth, Bashrik interjected. “No way. Navan might be crazy enough to let his girlfriend out amongst murderers and thieves, but I’m not letting mine.”

I frowned at him. “You don’t really get to have a say, Bashrik. You’re her boyfriend, not her keeper. If she wants to come and help us rescue Lauren, she has every right to,” I said. “I’m not about to let you stand in the way of that. You know very well that Angie can handle herself, with or without a gun.”

Angie smiled, and I was glad things had returned to normal between us. “You heard her, Bash. I’m going, whether you like it or not. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from finding Lauren.”

“It’s dangerous!” Bashrik protested.

“I don’t care. My friend is out there, and I’m going to help get her back.”

He sighed. “All right. But I’m not taking my eyes off you!”

Smiling, Angie took a gun and a knife from the collection we’d piled together. Now that we were all armed and ready, Bashrik opened the hatch and let us out onto the Junkyard’s surface, though he still seemed reluctant to let Angie come with us.

Regardless, we pressed on, slipping down the gangway and around the stack of scrap metal, leaving the canal behind us. The smell hit me first as we rounded the corner—a pungent mix of sulfur, rust, burning, and rotting things. Next was the noise, clanging in my ears, chiming across the endless heaps of scrap and ship carcasses. I couldn’t see much through the fog that rolled off the water, but our surroundings cleared the farther we got from the ship.

It was ten minutes before we reached a populated area of the Junkyard, where the towers of metal had been positioned to form winding streets and alleyways. People were shouting from various structures, and signs swung from bars across several entrances, though I didn’t know what they were supposed to represent. In truth, I wouldn’t have even known they were buildings if there hadn’t been people poking out of gaps in the metal and walking through the sheets of metal that acted as doorways.

“Stand tall and don’t look anyone in the eye,” Navan whispered, as we walked along confidently. “That’s the quickest way to start a fight in this place. They don’t care if you’re male, female, adult, child—they’ll pick a fight with anyone.”

“Noted,” I whispered back, though it was easier said than done. There were so many interesting characters walking around, looking like they’d stepped out of the pages of a fantasy story. A scarred, spiny creature stalked past with a patch over his eye, crossing paths with a gangly, turquoise-skinned lizard-person who had two blades instead of hands. Honestly, I wanted to stare at every single one of them.

I’d tucked the compass into the inside pocket of my jacket and kept checking it discreetly as we wandered along, following the flashing green dot. It was getting bigger with each step we took, the map having narrowed to focus on the target.

“This way,” I said, leading us down a dingy alleyway. It opened onto a wider road, where crowds swarmed across the trash-littered ground. The people walking alongside us seemed particularly shady in this part of the Junkyard, though they were an eclectic mix of species. Most of them were facially scarred and tattooed, with guns dangling from harnesses strapped across their bodies, and blades glinting in the hot sun. It was almost like they were proud of their weapons, showing them off as a warning to anyone who might try anything. Barely any of them had any teeth, unless they were jagged or fanged, and there was a sinister glitter in most of their eyes, though I forced myself not to look for too long.

Up on a rusting, wrought-iron balcony, alien women dressed in scanty clothing leered over the edge, whistling at Navan and Bashrik as they passed underneath. A few more sat on windowsills, their limbs draped across the ledges, flashing glimpses of what they were selling.

“Hey, coldblood, you need a little warming up?” one shouted licentiously, shimmying her top down to reveal a violet, scaly cleavage.

“Yeah, grayskin, you fancy a bite?” another yelled, smirking.

“Hey, how about two for the price of one?” a third barked, in a deep voice that made her stand out.

Navan leaned down to my ear. “Please, make them stop,” he whispered, laughing softly.

“Grayskin, don’t be so coy—the smooth-skinned baby can come with you! She can join us for free. I’ve never seen one like her before!” the first alien shouted. “I’d love a taste of what the two of you are offering!”

“You interested?” I teased.