Ship Breaker

by Paolo Bacigalupi

“I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, sorry after you already said it.”

  “Shut up, Nailer,” Pima said. “She’s sorry.”

  Tool stared at Nita with his dead yellow eyes. “Maybe not as sorry as she could be. Right, boy?” He leaned forward. “Do you want me to teach your swank a lesson in manners?”

  Nita suddenly looked very frightened indeed. Nailer shook his head. “No. Never mind. She gets it now.”

  Tool nodded. “Everyone does eventually.”

  Nailer shivered at the half-man’s flat words, the disinterest in his voice. This was the first time he’d been this close to the creature. There were plenty of stories about him, though. About where he got the vast webwork of scars that decorated his face and torso. About how he waded through the swamps, hunting for alligators and pythons. People said he wasn’t afraid of anything. That he’d been engineered so he couldn’t feel pain or fear. He was the only thing Nailer had ever seen his father talk about with careful respect rather than abusive authority. The half-man was damn scary, and watching the way Tool looked at the girl, he thought he knew why.

  “Never mind,” Nailer said again. “She’s fine.”

  Tool shrugged and went back to his food. They all sat in silence. Beyond the ring of their firelight, there was nothing except animal sounds and insects, the black wildness of the jungles and swamps, the swelter of the interior. From the distant sound of the surf, Nailer guessed they were at least a mile from shore. He lay back on the ground watching the flames flicker. The food had been good, but he was tired again. He let his mind drift, wondering what his father was planning, and why Pima looked so worried, and what was going on behind Lucky Girl’s swank eyes. He drifted off.

  “Damn, boy, you’re awake, I hear.”

  Nailer opened his eyes. His father crouched over him, smiling, his tattooed dragons and bright crystal slide amphetamine eyes on him.

  “I knew you’d make it,” his dad said. “You’re tough like your old man. Tougher than nails, right? Just like I named you. Just like your old man.” He laughed and punched Nailer ’s shoulder and didn’t seem to notice Nailer flinch at the pain. “You look a lot better than a few days ago.” Richard Lopez’s skin was pale and sweating in the firelight and his grin was wide and feral. “Wasn’t sure if we’d be putting you down with the worms.”

  Nailer made himself smile, trying to gauge his father’s crystal-bright mood. “Not yet, I guess.”

  “Yeah, you’re a survivor.” He glanced over at Nita. “Not like the rich girl. She’d have been dead a long time ago, if it wasn’t for me saving her swank ass.” He smiled at her. “I’m almost hoping your dad doesn’t show up, girl.”

  Nailer sat up and folded his legs under himself. “Her crew hasn’t showed?”

  “Not yet.”

  His father took a swig of whiskey and offered the bottle to Nailer. Pima spoke up from across the circle. “Doctor said he’s not supposed to drink.”

  Nailer’s dad scowled at her. “You trying to tell me what to do?”

  Pima hesitated. “Not me. Lucky Strike’s doctor said it.”

  Nailer wanted to tell her to shut up, but it was already too late; his father’s mood had shifted, a storm gathering where there had only been clear skies before.

  “You think you’re the only one who heard that damn pill man?” Richard asked. “I’m the one that brought that pill man out. I paid him and I got him to put my boy back together.” He went over to Pima, the whiskey bottle swinging loose in his hand. “And now you’re telling me what he said?” He leaned close. “You want to tell me again? Just in case I didn’t hear you?”

  Pima had enough sense to shut up and duck down. Nailer’s dad examined her. “Yeah. Smart girl. I thought you wanted to shut the hell up. No sense, kids these days.”

  He grinned at his goons. Blue Eyes and Moby grinned back. Tool just studied Pima with his dog eyes. “You want me to teach her a lesson?” he rumbled. “Remind her?”

  Richard asked, “What do you think, girl? You need a little lesson from Tool here? Maybe see if he teaches any better than me?”

  Pima shook her head. “No, sir.”

  “Look at that.” Richard smiled. “Polite now, ain’t she?”

  Nailer tried to intervene. “How come the swank’s still here? Where’s her people?”

  Richard’s attention swung back to Nailer. “Wish we knew, don’t we? Girl says there’s people looking for her. Says someone gives a damn. But nobody’s come looking. No ships. No people in on the train, looking on the coast. Not a single swank showing up, asking questions.” He licked his lips as he studied Nita. “It’s starting to look like no one gives a damn about one little rich girl. Maybe she’s not even worth her kidney weight. Be tragic if we ended up scavenging our rich girl for spare parts, wouldn’t it?”

  “Should we try to reach out to her people?” Nailer asked. “Find a way to tell them where she is?”

  “Wish we knew where they were. From over in Houston, she says. The Uppadaya Combine. Some kind of shipping clan. Lucky Strike’s got some people trying to track them down.”

  Nailer startled. “Uppadaya?” He broke off as Pima flashed a warning signal. Nailer glanced at her, puzzled. Why had Nita lied about her name? If she was really with Patel Global, there should have been ways to contact her people, right here on the beach. “What’s your plan?” he asked instead.

  “Hard to say. I’ve been thinking she must be worth a lot, seeing as how swank she is, but I’m also thinking that she’s a bit of trouble for us. Maybe these Uppadaya have big connections, boss connections, the kind that bring their skull-crackers in and make trouble for hard-working people like us.” Nailer’s father paused, thoughtful. “Maybe I’m thinking she’s too damn dangerous and we’re better off if she’s feeding the pigs. We already have her ship, and sure as hell she knows too damn much about us now.” He said it again, quieter. “Too damn much.”

  “But she’s got to be worth something.”

  Richard shrugged. “Maybe she’s worth a whole hell of a lot, and maybe that’s even worse than if she’s worth nothing.” He looked up. “You’re a smart kid, Nailer, but you should pay attention to your dad. I’ve got some years on my skin, and I’ll tell you, a swank like her always means trouble for people like us. They don’t give a copper yard about us, but they sure like their own. Maybe they pay us for her and then maybe they come back with guns and clear us out like a snake nest, instead of saying thank you.”

  Nita protested. “We wouldn’t—”

  “Shut up, swank.” Richard’s voice was flat, disinterested. He turned his cold eyes on her. “Maybe you’re worth something. Maybe not. But I know for damn sure that your flapping mouth annoys the hell out of me.” He pulled out his knife. “I hear much more out of you and I think I’ll take those pretty lips off. Make you smile even when you’re sad, little swank.” He stared at her. “You think your crew would want you back without your lips?”

  She fell silent. He nodded, satisfied. He sat down with Nailer, put his head low, close, almost touching. Nailer could smell the sweat and whiskey of him, see the redness of his eyes.

  “You had the idea, boy.” Richard glanced at the girl. “But the more I think about it, the worse it sounds. We got a big score off the ship. Everything’s going to be different now. We’re damn rich, all set up with Lucky Strike. That clipper’s down to the ribs now. Got real crews stripping it. Another couple days, it’ll be like that ship never existed.” He grinned. “Not like breaking one of those old tankers. These little ships come apart easy.” He glanced over at Lucky Girl. “This girl doesn’t do us any good, though. Maybe she makes big bosses pay attention to us. Maybe she makes us targets. Maybe gets people asking questions about scavenge and where it came from and who owns it and who gets rich from it.”

  “No one would say anything to the swanks.”

  “Don’t kid yourself,” Richard muttered. “They’d sell their mothers for a chance to pull a Lucky Strike.”

&n
bsp; “Give it time,” Nailer whispered. “Give it a little time and we’ll be even richer.”

  All he could think of was how badly he wanted to get away from his father with his twitchy eyes and fast, high smile, the face of a man deep in his slide.

  Richard’s eyes went to the girl again. “If she wasn’t so pretty, I would have bled her out already. She draws too much attention.” He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

  Nailer said, “Maybe we can get her people to pay for her without knowing who sold her. She’s still secret, right?”

  Nailer’s dad grinned. “Just my crew.” He studied Blue Eyes and Moby and Tool. “Maybe too many, though. Secrets don’t keep when someone’s throwing cash around.” He glanced at the girl. “Keep an eye on her for another day; we’ll see what turns up.” He stood and Nailer struggled to his feet as well, but his father pressed him back. “You stay here. Rest. Sadna’s asking questions about where you and Pima went. I’m playing dumb, you know? Don’t want anyone else knowing what’s going on. Make sure they don’t make any trouble.”

  “Sadna’s looking for us?” Nailer tried to keep the hope from his voice.

  “She heard a rumor maybe we found Pima.” He shrugged. “She’s got no cash, though. And no one talks without Red Chinese in their hands.” He turned and nodded to Tool and Blue Eyes and Moby. “Keep ’em tight.”

  The three of them nodded, Blue Eyes smiling, Moby swigging from his bottle, Tool impassive. Richard disappeared into the vines and night screech of the jungle, a pale skeleton of a man fading into the blackness.

  When Richard was gone, Moby grinned and took another swig from his bottle. “You’re running out of time, girlie,” he said. “Your people don’t show up quick, maybe I’ll take you for my own. You look like you’d make a nice little pet.”

  “Shut up,” Tool rumbled.

  Moby glared at him but closed his mouth. Tool glanced at Blue Eyes. “You watching first?” Blue Eyes nodded. Tool pushed Moby a little ways away, both of them bedding down in the nearby bushes. Soon a snore marked where Tool lay, and Moby’s voice, complaining still, was barely audible through the ferns. Mosquitoes swarmed around them. Nita slapped miserably at the bloodsuckers. Everyone else ignored them.

  Blue Eyes came over and put a chain cuff around Pima’s wrist, then turned to Nailer.

  “You going to give me trouble?”

  “What?” Nailer gave her a look of incredulity. “You going to tell my dad you put a cuff on me? I’m the one who came up with this Lucky Strike.”

  Blue Eyes hesitated. She seemed tempted to chain him as well, but also uncertain, not entirely sure if he was a captive or an ally. He stared back at her, challenging. Nailer knew what she was seeing, a skinny ribbed boy just out of a fever and crazy Richard Lopez behind him. It wasn’t worth it.

  Sure enough, Blue Eyes gave up on the idea. She sat down on a rock and picked up a machete, started sharpening it. Pima and Lucky Girl stared at him, their eyes full of meaning. The fire burned lower. He didn’t like his father’s hints. The man was on the verge of decision and anything could tip him.

  Nailer stretched out on the ground beside Pima. “How’s your fingers?”

  She smiled and held up her hand. “Pretty good. Glad he didn’t decide to teach me five lessons.”

  “Hurt much now?”

  “Not as much as the money we lost.” Her voice was brave, but he thought the fingers must hurt awfully. The splint looked ragged. She followed the direction of his gaze. “Maybe we can break ’em again and get ’em to grow straight.”

  “Yeah.” He looked over at Lucky Girl. “How you doing? Anything broke on you?”

  “Shut up!” Moby yelled from the bushes. “I’m trying to sleep.”

  Nailer lowered his voice. “Your people coming soon?”

  Lucky Girl hesitated. Her eyes flicked fearfully from him to Pima and then to Blue Eyes a little ways away. “Yeah. They’re coming.”

  Pima looked at her. “Yeah? That right? Patel?” She drew out the name. “They really coming, or you just full of lies? Someone from your crew could be down on the beach right now, some blood buyer from your clan, if you’re really a Patel, but you’re not saying anything. What’s with that?”

  Again the skitter eyes of fear. Lucky Girl pushed her black hair off her face and stared at Pima defiantly. “What if they aren’t coming?” she whispered fiercely. “What you gonna do then?”

  Her voice had taken on some of the hard edge of Pima and Nailer’s own inflections. Nailer would have laughed if she hadn’t seemed so fearful. She was lying. He’d seen enough liars in his life to know. Everyone was always lying to him. Lying about how much they’d worked, about how much quota they’d filled, about whether they were afraid, about whether they were living fat or starving. Lucky Girl was lying.

  “They aren’t coming.” He stated it as fact. “You’ve got no one looking for you. I don’t think you’re even a Patel.”

  Lucky Girl glanced at him fearfully. Her gaze went again to Blue Eyes, obsessively sharpening her machete. Pima tugged her earrings thoughtfully, cocking her head. “That right, girl? You’re worth nothing?”

  Nailer was surprised to see that Lucky Girl was on the verge of tears. Even Sloth hadn’t cried when she’d been kicked down the beach with knife slashes through her crew tattoos, but here this soft girl was on the verge of crying because she’d been caught in a lie. “Where are your people?” he asked.

  She hesitated. “North. Above the Drowned Cities. And I am Patel. But they won’t know where to look for me.” She paused. “I’m not supposed to be here at all. We threw away our GPS beacons weeks ago, trying to get away.”

  “From who?”

  She hesitated, then finally said, “My own people.”

  Nailer and Pima exchanged puzzled looks.

  Nita explained quietly. “My father has enemies within our company. When we got caught in the storm, they were pursuing us. Everywhere we went, they anticipated us. If they catch me they will use me as leverage.”

  “So no one’s coming looking for you?”

  “No one you would want to meet.” She shook her head. “When our ship wrecked, two other ships were pursuing us, but they turned back from the storm.”

  “So that’s why you were sailing into a city killer? You were running?”

  “It was either that or surrender.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t a choice we could make.”

  “So no one’s coming for you.” Nailer couldn’t help repeating it, trying to get his head around this new fact. “You jerked us around this whole time.”

  “I didn’t want you to take my fingers.”

  Pima let out her breath in a slow hiss. “You should have given yourself up to whoever was chasing you. Nailer’s dad is worse than anything they could do to you.”

  Lucky Girl shook her head. “No. Your people… they have an excuse. The ones who hunted me…” She shook her head again. “They are worse.”

  “So you wrecked a whole ship and tried to drown yourself just so they couldn’t catch you?” Nailer asked. “Killed your whole crew so you could stay free?”

  She glanced over. “They were…” She shook her head. “Pyce’s people would have killed them all anyway. He wouldn’t have wanted witnesses.”

  Pima grinned. “Damn, the swanks and the rust rats are all the same at the end of the day. Everyone’s looking to get a little blood on their hands.”

  “Yes.” Nita nodded seriously. “Just the same.”

  Nailer considered the situation. Without someone to buy Nita back, she was worth nothing. Without strong friends or allies on the beach, she was just meat. No one would even blink if she went under the knives of the Harvesters. Blue Eyes could hand her over to her cult, and no one would think twice about protecting her.

  Pima looked Nita over. “Hard life here, for a swank like you. You won’t survive unless you get yourself a protector, and there’s not much percentage in sheltering something like you.”

 
“I can work. I can—”

  “You can’t do anything unless we say so,” Pima said brutally. “No one cares about a swank like you one way or the other. You got no crew. No family. You don’t got your goons and money to make them respect you, either. You’re worse off than Sloth. At least she knew the rules. Knew how to play the game.”

  “You really don’t have any people, then?” Nailer asked. “No one who might help you?”

  “We have ships…” Nita hesitated. “Our clan has ships and some of the captains are still loyal to my father. They come to the Orleans for the Mississippi trade. If I could get there, I could reward you—”

  “No more reward talk, Lucky Girl.” Pima shook her head. “You’ve run out of that.”

  “Yeah.” Nailer glanced over at Blue Eyes, who was sharpening a new machete. “How ’bout we quit the lying?” He nodded at Nita’s scarred palm. “We shared blood and you’re still lying to us.”

  Nita gave him a dirty look. “You would have cut my throat if you didn’t think I was valuable.”

  Nailer grinned. “Guess we’ll never know. But we got you now and you’re not worth a copper yard.” He fell silent.

  Pima watched him. “It’s a damn long way to the Orleans,” she said. “Gators and panthers and pythons. Lots of good ways to die.”

  Nailer considered. “Don’t only have to go overland.”

  “Can’t sail it. Your old man would know a skiff was missing and be after you in no time.”

  “I’m not thinking about a skiff.”

  Pima stared at him. “Blood and rust.” She shook her head. “No way. You remember Reni? You remember what he looked like afterward? There wasn’t anything left of him. Just meat pieces.”

  “He was drunk. We won’t be.”

  Pima shook her head. “It’s crazy. You just got your shoulder pulled back together and you want to wreck it again?”

  “What are you talking about?” Nita asked.

  Nailer didn’t answer her directly. It was possible. It was just possible. “You a good runner, Lucky Girl?” He looked her over. “You got soft skin, but you got any muscles under your skirts? You fast?”