Hellcat

By Rebekah Turner

In the dusty Mars city of Cydonia, only one path is open to women: get married and breed. As long as you're genetically approved, of course. Eighteen-year-old Kayo Rooper might be approved, but she has no interest in finding a husband. Her destiny is to live a life of adventure on Earth, birthplace of her long lost mother.

Joined by a friend with a shady moral compass, a tech genius with a tragic past, and the roof-rat-turned Sentinel who both threatens and attracts her, Kayo earns passage money to Earth riding her Hellcat cycle as an illegal courier. But her plans of escape are threatened when a job puts her in the middle of a plot to destroy the fragile alliance between Earth and Mars. Now, the very home Kayo wants to escape is the one she would give anything to save.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Flying Nun Publications
• Release date: Feb 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781925775198

Rebekah Turner

Rebekah Turner was born in sunny Queensland, Australia. With a degree in graphic design and a raging coffee addiction, she freelances in between sensible adult jobs. She rides a scooter nicknamed Skittles, owns a couple of dogs who don't get walked enough and is a dedicated movie-gal, with a special affection for old action movies.  She enjoys reading and writing fantasy for all ages and adores stories with girls who save not only the day, but themselves. Rebekah lives in Brisbane with her husband and two kids.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Let's see if I can spit on the redhead.

We both peered over the balcony, Jex pointing at a woman with a low-cut gown and scarlet hair. The crowd below was a churning sea of red and purple shades; hair was coiled high and threaded with looper wires, the latest cyberwear enhancements tailored to your choice and budget. Options ranged from internal access to the city digi-network, augmented memory, or to even more sophisticated mods, like cerebral translation. The list was almost endless. Loopers were popular, but with the added cost of security against bio-hackers, it was a perk beyond most civilians in Cydonia, including myself.

My eyes flitted to the small droid orchestra that sat beside the entrance. They'd been playing popular songs all night, though a little gold flutist kept playing off-key.

Come on. Jex was grinning at me. She'll never know what hit her.

I smiled and shook my head, though part of me wished she'd do it anyway. My eyes scanned for my stepsister Jenna. She was somewhere down there on the dance floor, well-lit by buzzing drones loaded with winking lights. I'd studied the data about Earth and knew they were supposed to look like fireflies. But they weren't. They were just an imitation of something real, like everything in Cydonia.

Jenna had just turned eighteen, a year younger than me and she'd been looking forward to her social debut since she was little. I figured she was buzzed in the head. What could be more stressful than meeting a bunch of strangers? Not only strangers, but people who had been genetically screened by Halo, the city geno-registry, and green-lit for maximum compatibility.

No thanks.

Everyone at the dance tonight had just turned eighteen and passed the requirements for genetic sequencing approval. With a Martian father and an Earth mother, I'd only just scraped through the requirements when it had been my turn a year ago. Thankfully, I'd avoided most of the matching season due to the mysterious headaches I'd been afflicted with that no medic droid could fix with their little red pills. My stepmother, Adeola, hadn't talked to me for weeks after I'd managed to get out of attending the End of Matching Season Ball. Suited me just fine.

Tonight, Jenna had been with a different suitor every time I looked. Though her clothes weren't as nice as some of the other girls', she was constantly surrounded by men between dances. This was probably due to the fact Jenna could talk in a depressurized airlock about anything in the universe, Father's position as a Company Director in the Ulysses Shipping Yard wouldn't hurt either. But Jenna took to these strange rituals with an ease that left me jealous. I didn't fit in this world. Not now. Not ever.

We'd better get back. I tugged at Jex's arm, pulling her away. Before someone sees us.

Jex stepped back from the edge of the balcony, a funny look on her face. She adjusted the straps of the satchel she'd brought along. "You mean, before someone sees me with you."

My hand dropped, surprised at her pointed words. What are you talking about?

But I knew what she meant. Jex was a non-valid, or scrag, if you wanted to be nasty. Being a non-valid meant Jex could get red-flagged for being in areas meant only for valids, like me. Of course, Jex being Jex, she'd have more than one fake ID on her. Unless a random security cam took a scan. Then she'd be in real trouble, tracked and picked up by a chrome-dome. That's what the security droids were called, with their skinny metal heads and insect-like eyes. Best case after getting busted? Jex would get a fine and community service. Worst case? Time in an off-world detention center, which would be impossible to escape from.

My hands fluttered nervously down the stiff gown I'd been stuffed into, suddenly self-conscious of the bright makeup troweled on my face. I felt ridiculous beside Jex, with her yellow-striped racing outfit, the smudge of grease on her forehead, her blue, knotted hair that no hat could contain, and her crooked back that shouted of mutated Mars genetics. Imperfect genes. Scrag. It was illegal to discriminate against anyone born outside of what Halo had genetically approved of, but everyone knew valids got preference in the city. It was just the way things were. 

When I'd first met Jex, I couldn't stop staring at her crazy blue hair. She hadn't taken offense, which was fortunate since Jex had a tongue as sharp as any blade and a temperament to match. She'd even joked she was part Mars-mutant, part-human, and a whole lot of bitch. But the difference in our stations had never mattered to me. I'd pointed out my own physical defect to her and we'd been friends ever since, the difference in our status never coming between us. At least, not until tonight.

I'm sorry, I said, face flushing.

Jex's stiff look dissolved, and she punched me on the arm. Forget it. Just teasing, yeah?

I blew out a relieved breath and my dress pinched at my waist. My stepmother had set the auto-bindings too tight, making it difficult to breathe or bend. As if the heels weren't enough to hamper all useful movement. Thankfully my satchel was slung over Jex's shoulder, stuffed with a change of clothes. There was no way I was staying here tonight. I had better things to do.

Kayo.

Heart lurching, I turned to see my stepmother, Adeola, bearing down on me. She was a monstrosity in a green ruffled dress, pinned hair beginning to unravel as the end of the night drew near. Our house-droid, Sora, was an excellent cook and cleaner, but terrible at setting hair. If Adeola could have afforded it, she would have a Styler A43 set up in the house: a steam-press helmet which claimed to be able to curl and set your hair within minutes. But they cost a small fortune, not to mention looking like a nightmare torture device. From what I'd understood, there was even a small risk of static discharge shooting the helmet from your head like a cork from a bottle. But that was typical of most of the tech on Mars: great if it worked.

I tried to block Jex from Adeola's view, but when I glanced over my shoulder, she had already vanished. This didn't surprise me. Jex had grown up within the ranks of the Redback gang, famous for pickpocketing and petty hacking jobs. Sleight of hand had been Jex's expertise, but she had since found it more profitable to use her complete disregard for transit rules to her advantage as an unlicensed courier.

Adeola stopped in front of me, huffing slightly. What are you doing up here?

My insides cringed when I realized she was half dragging a young man behind her. She gave me a satisfied look that was easy enough to read: Look what I found, Kayo—a potential match for you.

Kayo dear—she gestured to the pinch-faced man beside her—I'd like you to meet Joseph Brock.

The man had a round shape and wore a dark tuxedo with a bright-pink cravat at his throat. He had a long nose, and his demeanor reminded me of the small black and white Earth birds that lived in the snow. What were they called again? I searched my memory but came up blank. He gave me a pained look when I offered my hand like I'd been taught to. He pressed his lips against the soft cloth of my data glove, and I tried not to grimace as a small light blinked green on the back of my hand. Yessiree. Presenting a fine, potential mate for you, Kayo. DNA scanned and approved by Halo itself. Now we could be officially matched and have fine, fat, healthy babies. Hopefully all girls, since our numbers had been in decline for decades.

My cheeks flushed hot. I doubted he'd be so polite if I hadn't worn my optic lens and left my defect on display. Adeola would have locked me in my room if I'd tried to go out like that. Even though I was half-Earther, I'd somehow managed to pass Halo's essential genetic marker tests as a baby, despite my superficial oddity. My right eye was blue, the left hazel. The physical deformity had caused stares when I was a little girl, and I'd been assumed to be a non-valid. As soon as I was old enough, Father had sourced a special optic lens for me, a hazel one to match the other eye.

Joseph, Kayo here is currently studying at the Taki-Shira Center of Advanced Learning. Adeola's fan fluttered in front of her plump face, holograms of flowing water shifting across its crinkled surface. Kay, Joseph works in his father's organic produce company. He has genetic connections to the founders of the Bernage Corporation.

Very distant connections, really. Joseph straightened his jacket with a few crisp movements and gave me a small smile. We do receive the annual invitation to the Spring Show on Earth though.

You've been to Earth? That snagged my attention. What's it like? Where have you been?

He shrugged like it was no big deal. Like it wasn't beyond most citizens' financial ability.

Nice, I suppose, he said. But I've only been once to view the grades of dirt we import. I'm usually too busy working in the family business to go.

Nice? He supposed?

I wanted to grab the front of his stupid pink outfit and give it a violent shake. He didn't know how lucky he was. You needed a passport to get to Earth, and they cost a fortune. Nearly seven thousand credits. Then there was the cost of the medicine and therapy to be able to walk around normally, since the gravity on Earth was so different from here on Mars. But the gravity sickness and cost would be worth it.

Once, I'd asked Father about the possibility of going for a family holiday, and he'd just looked at me like I'd lost my mind. While we didn't live in one of the city slums, we didn't belong to high society either, much to Adeola's annoyance. When I kept pressing Father for an answer, he'd told me when I was suitably matched he'd consider gifting me tickets for my honeymoon, but that was a price too high for me. If I was going to get to Earth, it would be on my own terms.

I gave Joseph a wide smile, flashing all my teeth. I also have aspirations to work within my family business once I graduate. This wasn't the truth, but there was no way I could be honest in front of my stepmother. If she knew I'd been expelled for fighting three months ago, she'd beat me to a pulp with her little fan.

Lines appeared around Adeola's mouth. She had the opinion that if I was working, I'd be too busy to find a match, marry, and be pregnant forever. The Martian Government had been selling the idea that having babies was the best life for every Martian woman, offering incentives that ranged from free droid nannies to complimentary beauty spa passes. And yet, despite the citywide push for more children and genetic tinkering, infertility held fast and birth rates continued to drop, especially females. No one had any answers. There were rumors the Martian environment was still mutating genes. When the first Earth-bred miners had settled on Mars nearly one hundred years ago, they couldn't have guessed how much their genes would change: future generations becoming tall and pale, faster and stronger than their descendants.

But the news bulletins regularly shot down genetic mutation as impossible. Cydonia was secured against any harmful elements by Archangel, the city's atmosphere shield.

Adeola cleared her throat, eyes narrowing. "That is one of your plans, isn't it? But it's always hard to decide your future when you're so young."

I gave her an innocent look. I knew what Adeola really wanted for me: to marry someone important so she could step up in society. Since Halo had matched her and her three daughters with Father eight years ago, Adeola had insisted I call her Mother, which I grudgingly did. But only because Adeola could make Father smile, and I kind of liked having sisters. Most of the time.

Excuse me. I'm so sorry. I pressed my fingertips to my forehead. But I came here to try and fend off a sudden headache.

Oh dear, Adeola said dryly. One of your headaches.

Yes, I murmured. I think I'll have to go home.

You are quite plagued by them. Adeola glared at me, but I knew she couldn't accuse me of faking it. Not with an audience. I'll call your sister, and we'll take you home.

No, no, I protested. Jenna shouldn't miss out on such an important night. I'll just take a taxi-pod home. I fluttered my eyelashes, trying to be charming like Jenna.

Joseph frowned. Do you have something in your eye?

Guess only Jenna could pull that off. A speck of dust.

Are you sure you want to leave? he asked. There's the curfew to think of.

I'm nineteen, I reminded him. I'll be perfectly safe.

Of course, he murmured. But still, the streets can be a little unsafe at this time of night.

I'll be fine. I made an airy gesture. I don't want to spoil anyone's fun. I know my sister is having a lovely time. Have you met her?

Twin spots of color appeared on Joseph's cheeks. I had hoped to meet her tonight.

Really? Adeola's eyes widened, and she grasped his arm. I would be delighted to introduce you to her. Will you escort me back downstairs?

Joseph hesitated, eyeing me with concern. But—

Don't pay her any mind. Adeola was dragging him away. She'll be just fine.

I waited until they were gone, then hoisted up my heavy skirts and hurried in the opposite direction. Nearly tripping on my heels, I squeezed into a service lift with two domestic droids balancing stacks of empty trays across their spindly arms. A faint hum issued from deep inside their shiny metal casings, and I inched closer to the door. They were Level 5 service droids, with no programmed personality. I was not a member of the Mars Workers' Collective, otherwise called the MWC, who protested in numbers on the streets against the current wave of Level 1 droids imported from Earth. They claimed the droids were going to take over human jobs, which I highly doubted. But still, any droid that was bigger and stronger than me gave me the creeps. What stopped these hunks of metal from thinking I needed to be shoved inside a washing dispenser along with the other dirty dishes?

The elevator stopped with a ding and the doors slid open to reveal the ruckus of a busy kitchen galley. People in rumpled uniforms raced about, and slender droids zipped through the chaos, tracking flashing lights. The air swirled with steam, laced with the plastic smell of cooked vitro meat and the rich spices used to hide the rubbery texture.

Hurrying out before the automatons could trundle over me, I spied Jex chatting with some of the kitchen boys, laughing uproariously. When she caught my eye, she waved me over.

Took your time. She threw my satchel at me and I caught it easily. We both ducked into a small pantry, where I kicked off my heels and struggled out of my dress with Jex's help. I shimmied into the racing suit; it was one of Jex's secondhand ones: a rough, scratchy, black outfit with a few patches here and there. Stiff, knee-high boots followed, then I shoved a cap over my carefully plaited and coiled hair. Stuffing my dress into the satchel, I followed Jex out the back door and into the cool night air. We nearly collided with a few kitchen boys on their way back in, and I ignored their shouted invitations for us to join them for a night out, while Jex laughed with promises of next time.

The door swung closed behind us, cutting off the noise of the kitchen and replacing it with the sounds of the city: street holo-ads calling out to pedestrians, the electronic heartbeats of distant clubs, and the constant whine of traveling pods. Then there was the low, reassuring hum of Archangel as it worked to keep the city's air supply clean. The complex system was programmed to mirror the seasons on Earth, and according to the weather bulletins, 'winter' was only a week away. This usually meant cold-snap mornings and new-season clothing.

Now, Archangel had drifted dreamy night clouds across its semi-transparent sky, Mars's two moons peeking out now and then to bathe the city in a silver glow. Around us, the high walls of the alley flickered with screens advertising everything from energy pills to the latest Level 3 domestic droids. Someone had plastered Worker posters over some of the screens, warning of droids stealing jobs and calling for their destruction. A lone maintenance droid stood in front of one of the offending posters, its pincers slowly peeling back the edges. The faint sound of transport tubes rumbled and hissed beneath us, making the ground tremble. 

The largest city on Mars, Cydonia was nestled inside a basin on the southern hemisphere of the planet and was home to nearly six million people. The city was the largest port in the space belt for asteroid mining facilities. I might've been born here, but it wasn't my future—that was for sure.

Over here. Jex walked to a pile of battered plastic crates, where a familiar outline nestled in deep shadow. I hadn't been happy about Jex riding my cycle, considering her utter lack of respect for road rules. But I'd had no other options, and tonight was too important to miss.

The cycle I rode was an old Hellcat I'd fixed up. The once-battered cycle was now a sleek mean machine, though with a smattering of corrosion on the left engine side I was having trouble getting rid of. It was a battery-powered cycle with jet propulsion, and the pink-and-black paintwork was covered in stickers from Earth that I'd collected.

Eyes running over the cycle now, my chest swelled with pride at what I'd accomplished. I knew the basic mechanical principles of cycles, but until I'd ridden the Hellcat, I'd not been prepared for the heart-thumping rush of speed. That first ride I'd screeched to a halt on the track I'd been testing her on, heart pounding and mouth dry and I'd been hooked.

Wrapping my hands around the handlebars now, I begun to walk the Hellcat into the street when Jex stopped me with a warning hiss. We withdrew back to the shadows of the alley as a squad of Sentinels clomped by. Their slick black armor gleamed under the street lamps; bulky heater rifles, capable of high-voltage electricity fire, were slung across their backs. A special branch of the city security, the Sentinels had been formed by the Martian Government after a gang of Workers had tried to blow up the industrial district five years ago. The plot had been thwarted, but a riot had broken out, killing several people, including some from prominent families.

The Sentinels were now a regular sight on the streets, patrolling for any threats to the city.

Jex spat on the ground. Bastards.

One of the Sentinels glanced our way, face covered with a tinted visor, and the red grid of a movement tracker washed across the entry to the alley. We both froze, not daring to breathe. Then the Sentinel turned away, attention on the road ahead and I blew out a long breath.

While we hadn't been doing anything illegal, it wasn't uncommon for Sentinels to pick up pedestrians for loitering. I had my citizen ID card tucked into my racing boots, identifying me as Kayo Rooper, respectable Cydonian citizen. But I'd still be fined for having an unlicensed cycle. Then Father would find out, and I'd be in a world of trouble. But that was nothing compared with the trouble Jex would be in: she wasn't on the city registry, and she didn't have a citizen card. Not a legitimate one, anyway. But I also knew she wouldn't hang around to get nicked.

The Sentinel unit turned a corner. I grinned at Jex and she returned the smile, but her eyes were wary. When we stepped out of the alley, a bright yellow taxi-pod pulled out of the light traffic and stopped beside us, wheels grinding to a halt.

The droid driver was fashioned to look like a friendly, round-faced man, complete with a big smile and rosy cheeks. Its head rotated with a whine to face us, and I saw someone had scrawled 'Junker' across its forehead.

May I offer you a ride?

Its speaker had a glitch, static overlaying its recorded voice. Jex gave a snort, then told the droid what it could do with its ride. Its head tilted to the side.

I do not understand. Please repeat.

Jex made a disgusted sound and kicked one of its doors. Get lost, yer talking trash can.

The droid nodded once, its head swiveling back to the road, and rattled off. Jex shook her head.

Knew a fella who used to dress up like a taxi-pod driver and trick citizens into accepting rides, she told me.

Why?

She looked at me like I had no sense. To rob them, silly. What else do you do with a mark?

Not wanting to begin a discussion on the ethics of robbing people, I threw a leg over my Hellcat. I'd heard enough stories about Jex's earlier life and the marks she had conned. I didn't approve, but she'd done it so she could survive, and I respected that.

Jex jumped on the back, and I pressed the ignition button. The battery whined, engine clunking twice before leveling out to a low hum. Tapping the side of my headgear, a visor unfurled over my eyes, showing traffic updates followed by panels of hard but light construct. Revving the motor, I released the clutch and roared down the road, grinning at the sound of Jex's delighted laughter behind me. 

Chapter 2

Why did you bring me here? Jex groused from behind me. This place stinks, and we're going to be late.

It's on the way, I told her. We won't be late.

The main spaceport of Cydonia bustled with weary-looking dockworkers and transport crews. The area was crowded with hundreds of ships and warehouses stuffed with mining facilities and imported Earth products waiting for the green light from customs.

The air here was pungent: stale sweat and motor oil overlaid with exotic spices. Occasional eruptions of steam coiled lazily up to the flickering ceiling of Archangel, which stretched far above the spaceport.

An ocean of crates and shipping cargo surrounded us, tended to by busy workers while ragged groups of private security patrolled the docks. Robberies were far too common. I'd heard a rumor that in an attempt to avoid being ripped off so often, importers had resorted to using the extensive subterranean levels that had been created under the city by the first settlers. Apparently, they stored all sorts of goods in those steel-lined tombs, and I often wondered what treasures lay beneath our feet.

But thefts still happened daily, reported all day on the news feeds. This was despite citywide roaming security drones, called screamers, ready to send out their ear-splitting alarm to summon the chrome-domes. But the security response time to a screamer was long and screamers themselves could be hacked. Or so Jex told me. As for the street surveillance, half the cameras were broken and the rest had been vandalized. In fact, one of Jex's hobbies was to lob U-Tac on the security cams. And since U-Tac was nearly impossible to remove, the cameras usually had to be replaced. Once, Jex told me, she'd taken out nearly twenty cameras in one night.

My eyes searched until I found the Vagabond. The cargo ship's massive bulk resting on its dock was a reassuring sight. Not long now. My heart began to drum faster, remembering the rough handshake of the captain when I'd met him. He'd had an easy smile and had reassured me that as long as I filled out the necessary paperwork, Jex and I could join the ship's kitchen crew. That meant a paid ticket to Earth, as long as I could pay the necessary taxes, medical expenses and prove I had a way to make my own income.

Stop looking so worried, Jex sighed. The departure date hasn't changed.

Only twenty-five sols away, I said. Departing at zero-four-hundred hours.

I wished it was sooner. A little sweeper droid bumped into my leg, beeped once, then buzzed off as it continued sucking up the red dust the ships brought into the city.

Don't forget I'll need a final deposit for your courier application, Jex reminded me. I hope you've got that six thousand credits stashed somewhere.

I'll have the money soon. While our transport had been arranged, we both needed jobs if we wanted to stay on Earth. Right now, the plan was to join the United Earth Courier Guild. This was something Jex was arranging through the captain, but I was a little short on funds for the licensing. Jex had offered to spot me, but I was determined to pay my own way.

And you remember the five hundred you gave me is non-refundable, she said. That was for storing our cycles on the ship.

I haven't forgotten, I sighed.

Great. She tapped my shoulder impatiently. Now, can we go?

I hesitated, but then a guard shouted at me to keep moving. Jex shifted impatiently behind me, rocking the cycle.

Come on. Jex sounded annoyed. Move.

I sighed and started the Hellcat. With one last, longing glance up at the Vagabond, I roared off, Jex whooping behind me.

* * *

The race tonight was at a complex of deserted warehouses, interspersed by long patches of road. It was also a little too close to Father's work for comfort, but I couldn't afford to miss this. I had to win the pot, which I estimated to be around three thousand credits.

In the distance I could see the familiar structure of the Ulysses Shipping Yard, where Father worked as a Company Director. The structures and cranes loomed like a hulking beast, dwarfing other buildings around them. Beyond the shipyard, the jagged skyline of the city stretched out, its neon spires and residential towers intertwined with train bridges. Braided cables angled down from adjacent buildings like giant spider webs, and eruptions of steam coiled lazily up to the inky night sky.

The meet point was highlighted by orange LED lights, and I pulled up alongside the ragged line of cycles. Jex dismounted behind me, and I looked around for a friendly face. The night around me was a twist of murky vapor pipe smoke, revving engines, and silver polished wheels gleaming in the dim light.

Jex headed over to a man with a shaved head and tattooed neck who was tapping away on a small datapad. Beside him, a tiny girl with a pink mohawk held a steel lockbox. That's where the race money was stored. No credits here. Racers only dealt with quid chips, a currency impossible to track.

Erasing my visor with