Children of Zero

by Andrew Calhoun

  “You’re amazing, too,” she replied in a purring tone, and Kettle felt himself all the more bewitched.

  “Are you ever allowed out of this place?” he asked suddenly.

  A little smile appeared. “Of course I am.” She planted an elbow on the bed and propped her head up in her hand to look at him more directly. “I’m not a prisoner, you know. I’m a free woman.”

  “Oh.” He clearly hadn’t thought this conversation through.

  “Are you asking me to accompany you somewhere, Mr. Kettle?” The playfulness in her voice suggested that she was toying with him. “A walk in the hills perhaps?”

  “Umm, well, sure I guess. How does that work? Do I have to pay the Banana to let you come out with me?” This provoked a snort of half-contempt, half-mirth.

  “You’re really naïve for a pirate. Luckily, I like that about you.”

  “Naïve?” He gave a little pshhh sound to show his contempt for the very notion of being anything other than a wise and battle hardened sailor of the highest order. “I’ll have you know that I’ve earned my keep on the Epoch, one of the finest ships in the Sollian.” Earned my keep was hyperbole, but Kettle didn’t think this was a situation that called for humility.

  “Maybe you’ve seen things, but that doesn’t mean you’re not naïve. You’re not like other pirates, you know. You’re not cunning. You’re not greedy. You’re not inventing schemes in your head to trick someone out of their coin. You’re not wanting to stick a knife in someone just because they looked at you the wrong way. And I like you all the more for it, but you’re going to get into trouble one day, Merrick Kettle.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Aye, trouble. You’re too trusting. Well, maybe not too trusting, but you’re not seeing the world for what it really is.”

  He wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. She had no way of knowing that he actually was new to this world, and that it was quite probable that he didn’t understand her world properly. However, that’s not what she was talking about. She wasn’t insinuating that he literally couldn’t see the world properly.

  Seeing his hesitation, Numa carried on. “You don’t even know your own crew very well.”

  “Well, I’ll admit to that. I haven’t been on the Epoch very long.”

  “It shows,” she declared. “You should be more suspicious of them.”

  “Believe me, I’m plenty suspicious. One of them cut off my finger. I’m not exactly trusting of the sort of people who do that.”

  “I’m not talking about things they’ve done to you in the past; I’m talking about what they might do to you in the future.”

  Something finally clicked in the back of his brain. He sat upright and turned his body so that he could look straight at her. “Numa, are you trying to give me a warning?”

  “Of course I am. You’re a nice guy. I don’t want to hear a couple weeks from now that someone cut off the rest of your fingers or left you for dead somewhere.”

  “No, no. I mean specifically. Is there something you know about one of the Epoch’s crew? Is one of them going to try something?”

  For a moment, her eyes looked away from his, which was a pretty good indication that she was indeed hiding something. “I couldn’t tell you even if I did know,” she said softly. “When people like me can’t keep secrets, we tend to get ourselves killed.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up a second. Let me get this straight. You know something that could get me hurt, or worse, killed, but you can’t tell me specifically what it is. You’re worried that if you give me the details, I might act on your warning, and then it will become obvious that you didn’t keep your secret. Is that right?” He tried not to sound too accusing, but he guessed that he was failing in that regard.

  She remained silent with her eyes lowered. Somewhere in Kettle’s thoughts, a stirring of anger began to emerge.

  “Do you hate me now?” she asked quietly.

  “No, I don’t hate you,” he quickly replied, mustering a soothing tone. He pushed down the anger within. “How could I hate you?” This placated her for the moment, evidenced by the reappearance of the adorable little dimples that accompanied her smile.

  They stared at each other for some time, both of them apparently lost for the next words to carry forward the conversation. It wasn’t an awkward stare, and Kettle still felt confident that this strange woman in front of him held a strong affection for him despite withholding information that might prove vital to his very wellbeing. She reached out with one hand and interlocked her fingers with his, after which she gave a little squeeze as if to strengthen the bond between them. Nevertheless, the anger was still there. He wanted– needed – to get the truth out of her.

  He partly justified this need by thinking of his companions. Any attempt to do him harm might also be an attempt to hurt Dallas, Soup and Haley. He owed it to them to find out if they were in danger.

  This clarified his position with Numa. He was undoubtedly falling for the girl, but when he looked past the fantasy, things got a lot clearer. Numa was a gorgeous prostitute he paid to have sex with.

  C’mon Kettle, he chided himself internally. Time to get back to reality. Time to get the truth out of this girl.

  Then something darker entered his mind. How far would he go to get some answers? How far should he go? He discarded that question. He would coax her with words and words alone.

  “Can you give me a hint?” he probed.

  She immediately let his hand go and pulled back her arm. Standing up gracefully, she pulled a white silk robe over her shoulders, walked over to a chair and sat down, wrapping the robe around her body with her knees tucked up to her chin.

  “I’m sorry, Numa,” he said, “but it sounds like this is something important.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything to begin with.”

  “Well, you did. And I think it’s because you care about me. You know you can trust me, right? I would never do anything to put you in danger.”

  “I care about you, and I like you, so don’t get me wrong when I say this, but I sure don’t trust you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Let me ask you something. You’re good at languages. What about Lannari? Can you speak Lannari?”

  “No.”

  “Well, the Lannari word for trust is krymu. They have an expression about it. They say monnoree sak omo, lorit sak malee, tofforo sak loso, krymu sak kono.”

  “What does it mean?” This was the first time in a long time that Kettle didn’t understand a language. Apparently his Babel fish didn’t have programming for Lannari.

  “It means you can have my love after one day, my devotion after ten days, my respect after a hundred days and my trust after a thousand days.”

  Kettle thought about it for a short moment. “Seems like love is a cheap commodity for the Lannari.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Giving love isn’t such a hard thing to do. Trust on the other hand, that’s something you have to earn.”

  “And I haven’t earned your trust.”

  “No, you haven’t earned my trust, Merrick.” He could tell she wasn’t trying to be mean. She was just telling the truth.

  “Would you trust me if I gave you some money?”

  “What?” She sounded insulted. This wasn’t going the way he had hoped.

  “I mean I could go back to the Epoch right now and get a bunch of silver, or quickspice, or whatever. Trust me, there’s a lot.”

  “You’re being naïve again. How would that look if I suddenly had a couple of bags of quickspice in the corner of my room and you suddenly started accusing people on the Epoch of trying to hurt you?”

  “Yeah, fair enough.”

  “Can’t you just leave it alone?”

  “No, not really. I have to know. I mean, I’ve got some friends on the Epoch, good friends that I care about. If someone wants to hurt me, it stands to reason that my friends will be in trouble too. I can’t just sit back and let that happen.”

&nbs
p; The Qomari girl began to pout. Her lower lip stuck out a bit and her eyes were downcast toward the floor. “Isn’t there anything I can do to make you just forget about it?” she asked. Her legs unfolded from atop the chair she had been sitting on. When she stood up, the front of her robe parted and revealed her breasts.

  This triggered Kettle, but not in the way he expected. He wasn’t turned on. More than anything, he felt rage. Anger bubbled up from his gut and lifted into his chest.

  There was a savagery in this anger, but it wasn’t linked to frustration. Kettle could sense the inner workings of his mind decisively harnessing that rage, preparing to translate it into physical action. What he felt now was control. A cold, calculating control.

  Still naked, Kettle smoothly got up and in three long strides positioned himself right in front Numa. He could see a sudden note of concern written across her face. Her eyes quickly darted left toward the single door to the room. Kettle moved subtly to one side to make sure that he was blocking any planned dash to safety.

  Numa opened her mouth to say something, possibly to scream, but Kettle didn’t give her a chance. He reached up with his right hand and grabbed her by the throat, his thumb and index finger pressing up under her jaw. A little gasp escaped her lips, but that was all.

  Beneath this new emotion, down from within the inner bowels of his consciousness, a small voice screamed out in opposition. What he was doing was wrong; it was unconscionable and unforgivable. That voice was lost in the rush of empowerment he was feeling.

  Keeping his hand on her throat, he forced her down onto the floor, pushing her onto her back. He then straddled her and sat on her stomach. She was clutching his right wrist trying to relieve the pressure on her throat, scratching her nails into his skin, but he paid it no heed.

  She was really struggling for air now, but he didn’t release his grip just yet. Instead, he maintained the applied force and said, “No screaming.” Only then did he lift up, whereupon Numa let out a pained gasp and a frightened sob. Her expression was a mash of pain, anger and betrayal, the latter emotion becoming more evident as she brought her breathing back under control.

  “You need to tell me,” Kettle said.

  “Or what?” There was an element of defiance in her tone. He replied by curling the fingers of his right hand into a fist. She saw it shook her head slightly from side to side. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  “You bruise me and the guards downstairs will cut off your sword hand. House rules.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” He couldn’t believe he just said that. Nor could he understand how he was able to maintain a calm, composed exterior when he was going nuts inside. He wouldn’t have thought it possible that he could strike a woman. His mind raced. What if she called his bluff?

  “You’re a fool, Merrick.”

  He punched her. Oh no! he thought. What did I just do? It wasn’t a hard punch, but it was a punch. He had punched a girl. Holy shit! He had caught her on the left side of her face, the knuckle of his index finger impacting the corner of her mouth and the knuckle of his pinky hitting her cheekbone. The sound of his fist hitting her face was horrible. There was no other sound in the room other than Numa’s surprised grunt, so it seemed amplified. A sickening smack.

  “Tell me,” he said again. He raised his fist so she could see it. What the fuck am I doing? Her upper lip had cracked open and a bit of blood welled up around the opening. This was so abominably wrong, but deep down, he knew he wouldn’t stop. He needed answers out of this girl, and this was how he was going to get it.

  “Asshole,” she spat between sobs.

  “Tell me,” he repeated a third time. Then he gritted his teeth and tensed his arm muscles for another strike.

  “Wait!” she cried. He held his arm in place. Her eyes were blurred with tears, and her tongue was massaging her damaged lip, which now appeared to be swelling. She took a long breath and tried to regain some semblance of dignity, but he could tell she was shaken up.

  “I don’t have a whole lot of patience right now,” Kettle grumbled.

  “Hold on.”

  “No, I’m not waiting any mo . . .”

  “Just let me get up.”

  “You asked for it.” He tensed up.

  “Ollan!” she yelled. “Ollan, Ollan, Ollan! There. Are you satisfied?”

  “Ollan?”

  “Yes, Ollan Raskavec.”

  “Raskavec?”

  “Stop repeating what I say.”

  “Sorry. I just never knew his last name until now.”

  “Yeah, there’s a lot you don’t know about Ollan.”

  Kettle got up off of the prone Numa and then offered her a hand. Very reluctantly, she took it, and he hoisted her back up onto her feet. He then gestured for her to sit down in a chair, which she did, again reluctantly. “Like what?”

  “That he sleeps with me, for starters. He comes here every couple of nights, and some of the mornings too.”

  “Huh.” He let that new tidbit sink in.

  “Are you jealous?” There was a cynical edge to her question. She was prodding him. Whatever fondness she had had for him earlier was gone.

  “I suppose not,” he lied. “I mean, it’s your job, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s my job. And I can tell you, Ollan is not right in the head. He’s . . . I don’t know . . . twisted.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “Sure,” she said and nodded. “He’s addicted to pain.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen him hurt a lot of people.”

  Numa gave him the condescending look of a teacher dealing with a slow pupil. “Don’t be daft. He’s not addicted to giving pain; he’s addicted to pain.” She could tell by his face that he wasn’t quite grasping it. “He likes to get beat up,” she said. “He gets excited when he makes himself vulnerable. When he comes here, he hires me and a few of the other girls to punish him.”

  “Like, you punch him and stuff?”

  “Sometimes we punch him. Other times we use sticks and whips. And not just once or twice. He’ll get us to hit him for more than an hour. The last time he got angry at me because I wasn’t swinging the stick hard enough. At the end, he made me cut him on his chest with a little knife. He really loved that.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered in English.

  “What is Jesus?” In her Qomari accent, it sounded like Jehzeus.

  “Just something we say where I’m from. So he pays you to beat him to a pulp, and he doesn’t hit you back?”

  “Never. He never touched us.” She shook her head for emphasis. “He’s an absolute gentleman.” She paused and then added “Unlike you.” Kettle let it slide. “The thing is, Ollan can’t get hard unless he’s in a lot of pain.”

  “By hard, you mean . . .” He glanced down at his still naked, flaccid self.

  “Yeah, that’s what I mean. Before I made him bleed, he couldn’t get his little sailor to stand tall. But once I jabbed him, he got stiff, and . . . well . . . ravaged me.” A smile appeared when she said ravaged, but it quickly disappeared again due to the pain in her split lip.

  “You still haven’t told me why I’m in danger.”

  “Right. Well, after he ravaged me,” (There was that word again.) “we got to talking about all sorts of things. That’s quite normal, actually. A lot of guys open up to me about their plans after they orgasm a couple times.”

  “And Ollan told you something about me?”

  “He told me he made a deal to switch boats.”

  “Switch boats? What does that mean?”

  “It means he’s literally going to switch boats. He’s going to leave the Epoch and join the Black Star.”

  Kettle remembered seeing the Lavic pirate ship in the cove. “When?”

  “Not now, but he’s been talking to the Black Star’s harker. Harker Mikka. He gave her information that she could use to take down the Epoch.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of Saeliko, of course.”
/>   “I don’t get it. I never realized he didn’t like Saeliko.”

  “He used to like her. Said she was a step up over Janx. Under Janx, the boat was staying afloat, but they were sinking all the same. Would’ve been deep under an ocean of debt had Saeliko not stepped in when she did.”

  “And then she took the Triumph,” Kettle pointed out. “That’s certainly lifted his head above the waves, financially speaking.”

  “Yes, but she’s about to lose a lot of that loot. The Red Council will see to that.”

  “They’re the rulers of Myffa’s Cove, yeah?”

  She rolled her eyes. “By the Five, you’re naïve.”

  “Yes, you’ve made that point several times now, thank you.”

  “The Red Council does more than just rule Myffa’s Cove. They basically have a monopoly on piracy in the Sollian. Saeliko needs to pay a tribute to them in order to gain their recognition, and their protection. From what I’ve heard of Saeliko, she won’t like it, but she’ll do it. And that tribute won’t be cheap.”

  “So what? She’ll just set sail and start taking more loot.”

  “Easier said than done. She won’t be able to take down big targets like the Triumph anymore without some serious luck on her side. Her gamble worked once because Mael didn’t know the Epoch had raised the red. On top of that, taking the Triumph instantly made her villain number one for the Maelian navy, at least in the Sollian.”

  “So Ollan’s worried that she’s headed for a big fall.”

  “Seems that way.”

  “Wait. Hold on. You said Ollan was going to give Harker Mikka some information. What information?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but it’s something to do with you and a girl named Haley.”

  Radovan Mozik Maglipan. “I’m pretty sure I know what that’s about,” he told Numa. “So when’s he going to make the jump?”

  “He’s been talking to Mikka about setting a trap. He knows Saeliko’s destination, and he knows the prize she’s after. Mikka’s going to get their first and put her crew in place for an ambush. Ollan’s job will be to lead Saeliko and the rest of you into position.” Numa used one hand to make a semi-circle in the air as if she were holding and imaginary cup, and then she used two fingers of her other hand to mimic someone walking into the circle. When the walker entered the semi-circle, her fingers snapped shut around the legs. “In you go, there goes the trap, and out walk Ollan and Mikka with the prize.”