I couldn’t contain my gasp.
“Once the war ended, he was the first to find a new place for the remaining population, such as it was, to live. His company had crafted Port Arliss prior to the war, and he offered it to the people. Originally, he used a power source of his own creation, but after some time, it failed. He had to search for an alternative, or the thousands of inhabitants would die.”
I thought of the families I’d seen, the children. There had to be at least two, maybe even three thousand people there, at the very least. And that was just the first capsule, not even counting the connected ones or the other ports. Literally, the whole of humanity rested on one man’s shoulders. It sure went a long way to explain his demeanor and urgency.
I was only responsible for Phoebe, and the weight of caring for her could nearly crush me at times. I couldn’t imagine how it must have felt to have the fate of the human race relying on my choices.
As I pondered that, Tink continued, “Eventually, Fletcher came to realize he could use the mutated animals to his advantage. It took much trial and error, but he finally discovered that the mutated whales possess a powerful mechanical heart that could power the machines that keep ports like Arliss, and thus the remaining population, alive.”
“And if we find whales and this heart, I’ll be able to use that power to go home?”
For the first time since he began, Tink paused. After a few moments of tense silence, he said, “I’ve never seen it myself as we haven’t needed a new heart in a long time, but with the amount of power they contain, I don’t see why it isn’t a possibility.”
Because I’d do anything to get home, even work for a man like Ezra, I said, “Then I’m at your disposal. What can I do to help while I’m here?”
I regretted asking that question a few hours later.
When there weren’t any of the crewmembers to attend to, I explored the ship. The steam from the engines leaked through the walls and snaked through all of the corridors. The vibrations traveled along all of the walls and even through my bones.
Much as I wanted to get home to my life and to Phoebe, I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the world around me. In between splinting fingers caught between gears and nursing nasty burns with creams, I spent endless hours peering from the window in my room.
The rest of the time I spent pretending not to look around corners for Ezra. I knew it was because I was thankful for his help, even if he gave it grudgingly, but I also knew it was because he, like the world outside my window, intrigued me.
Each time my thoughts drifted to him or I found myself searching for him, I mentally shook my thoughts away from the enigmatic pirate.
On one such occasion, I was wrapping a rather terrible looking gash on one of the crewmembers when my thoughts turned to Ezra’s arm. As I taped up the gauze and sent the man on his way, I wondered what an arm like that would feel around me.
I scoffed at myself as I cleaned up the materials. It was a purely scientific musing, I reasoned, even though I knew I was deluding myself.
I was intent on forgetting the thought when a shudder wracked the entire vessel and threw me to my knees. A decanter of an astringent-smelling liquid burst at my feet and soaked through a dress I’d borrowed. I cursed Ezra, because that made forgetting my earlier thoughts easier.
Then everything was forgotten when another shudder threw me backward into the wall. Shouts penetrated the walls, and footsteps thundered down the hallway beyond my door.
Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.
I slipped in the spilled liquid as I attempted to get to my feet and landed in the broken glass. I let out a stream of curses as shards of it sliced through my hands. The liquid was some sort of alcohol-based cleaner because as soon as it came in contact with the cuts on my hands, it sucked the breath from my lungs.
Breathing through my teeth, I got to unsteady feet and fumbled with a pack of bandages. I managed to get the shards of glass from my palms without doing any additional damage.
When they were wrapped as best I could, I threw open the door to my room and burst into the hallway. Another blow threw me into the wall and I called out as my hands came in contact with the metal. I tucked them under my arms so as to not cause any more damage as I made my way toward the captain’s room to see what the hell was going on.
The ship was still shuddering from the after-effects from whatever it was and a seed of worry took root in my stomach.
Tink and Ezra were in a flurry of activity when I made it to the front of the ship. I slipped in the room soundlessly as they wrestled with controls. Ezra let out a stream of words that must have been curses.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “What was that?”
Ezra turned at my words, and his eyes automatically went to my hands. “What the devil happened to you?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
“You’re—” he started, but was interrupted by another blow that shook the whole ship. Metal groaned ominously in response. “Sit down there, and hold on. We don’t need you hurting yourself.”
Tink peered inside a spyglass and said, “It’s not leaving, Sir. Evasive measures.”
“Hold on,” Ezra replied. He wrestled with the wheel, and a loud shriek of metal on metal pierced the air.
I didn’t know he was talking to me, though, so when the submarine began to roll, I fell ass over teakettle to the floor for the second time that day.
“Told you to hold on,” Ezra said as I got to my feet.
“What the hell was that?” I let my hands lie limply in my lap and ignored the vicious throbbing.
Tink glanced back at me. “Remember what I said about the enhanced sea creatures?”
I gulped and tried to wet my suddenly dry mouth. “You mean the antagonistic and extremely predatory ones?”
“I see you’re not as clueless as I thought,” Ezra commented.
Before I could retort, the ship’s tail caught on something and we were all thrown forward. I flew to the floor yet again, Ezra wound up halfway across the dash, but Tink still stood in the same position.
“What do we do?” I asked.
“We don’t do anything,” Ezra growled and started to furiously push buttons. “You sit there and we’ll handle this.”
I ignored him and glanced around the cabin for something useful, but I didn’t recognize any of the names for the cabinets. What did I expect? They had different weapons, instruments and tools; the likelihood that I could recognize one, let alone know how to use it, was slim to none.
The helplessness that filled my insides made me glare at Ezra for being right. But I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, so I limped my way back to my room as he and Tink evaded whatever sea monster had attacked us.
I spent the next few hours tending to the wounded. There were no major injuries, but plenty to keep me busy, and I welcomed the work. It kept me from thinking about what could be happening to Phoebe in my absence.
“Come on in,” I said, but it ended on a strangled note when I found the last person I wanted to see standing in the doorway.
Ezra did as I said and came to a stop in front of me, blood staining the shoulder of his otherwise pristine shirt and soaking a dark patch straight through his signature overcoat.
“Guess we’ll put those skills of yours to the test, Doc,” he said. He shrugged out of his coat without a wince.
I grabbed his uninjured arm, and as the metal twitched beneath my fingers, I remembered my thoughts from earlier that day. I refused to acknowledge them and instead focused on removing his stained shirt and cleaning the wound on his shoulder.
“Was this from earlier?” I asked.
He shrugged, causing fresh blood to seep from the cut. I frowned at him, which seemed to amuse him.
“Ready to give up yet?” he said in lieu of an explanation. “We’re too far to turn back to Arliss, but I can drop you at the next port. I’d understand if it’s too much for a woman.”
Th
e like you was implied. Now his princess nickname made sense.
I didn’t give him a warning before applying the antibacterial spray I’d been given, and his hiss of pain gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction.
“I’m doing just fine,” I said. He watched me, or at least, his eyes were locked in my direction, as I layered the wound with a numbing cream and wrapped a thin swatch of gauze around it. When he didn’t turn away, I asked, “What?” with a little more bite than necessary.
“I’ve never seen someone without a synthetic before,” was all he said.
I glanced down at my body like it was a foreign entity. Arms with too many freckles and hands with stubby fingers and chewed up nails. The fingers in question twitched with an urge to feel my own unmarked skin.
My eyes were drawn to his chest where both parts of him were knitted together. The skin gradually turned translucent, and I swore I could make out thin blue veins underneath.
He shifted under my examination and I blinked rapidly as I glanced back at his face.
“Yes,” he said.
“I’m sorry?”
“You can touch it. It won’t hurt you.”
I looked back at his arm. “Isn’t that rude?” I asked.
“Not if I’ve given you permission. Consider it a medical examination.”
“It’s fascinating,” I mumbled, more to myself than to him. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I started with his fingers. There was something about the fact that it was his hand, but it wasn’t exactly a hand, that made the touch seem less intimate. Or, at least, that’s what I told myself as I traced the lines of his fingers with the tip of my own.
He flexed then twitched and was still, palm up. It was soft as satin and hard as steel. I didn’t recognize the metal, and would probably never understand it without the use of a lab a several brains larger than my own, but it was enthralling nonetheless.
So much so, I gave myself permission to trace the line of his wrist. Underneath, there was a thrum, and I didn’t know if that was from the vibrations of the ship or some sort of mechanical energy he was emitting. I traced the divot of his inner elbow and skimmed over his powerful bicep until my hand came to a rest on his shoulder, hovering just over where the metal gave way to skin.
Without waiting for permission this time, I allowed my fingers to investigate the breadth of his synthetic shoulder. When my fingers reached his skin I could tell because he shuddered underneath my hands. I almost pulled back, but a quick glance at his face gave me the courage to continue.
The line where the mechanical arm began was a brighter red than rest of his skin. It almost looked enflamed, except there was no heat.
“Can you feel this?” I asked. I laid one hand on his shoulder, the hum buzzing underneath my splayed fingers.
“Yes,” he said. “But it’s a different feeling.”
“Muted?” I guessed. A normal girl would have been thinking about having a half-naked man under her hands, but not me. The thoughts racing through my head had everything to do with biology, just not that kind.
I wondered how nerve conduction worked. Is this hand stronger than his normal one? Does it rust? How does it grow? The applications for synthetic body parts would be innumerable in my world. If we could re-grow organs, replace wounded limbs that had the ability to grow to the individual user …
My thoughts continued as I stroked his arm until I found his fingers clasped around mine. I lifted my head, locked with his gaze, and my heart leapt into my throat.
His voice was a growl, lips barely parted to release the choked words. “Not muted. Much more sensitive.”
Intrigued, I studied our entwined hands. “Really? I would have expected the opposite.”
“It’s not the same for everyone, some people experience much less sensitivity with their synthetics. Some have synthetic bone structure or organs and aren’t aware exactly what they have until they meet with a healer.”
“It’s amazing,” I whispered.
His own fingers were tracing the lines of my palm. Even with my less sensitive skin, a shiver coursed through me. “What’s it like to live up top?” he asked.
I unclenched my fingers from his hand with exquisite slowness, otherwise I might have spent hours studying him. Purely scientific reasons, of course. “You’ve never been?” Then I realized my mistake. “Stupid question. I guess it’s, what? Too polluted still?”
He slipped back into his shirt, and the glint of his arm disappeared behind the fabric. “No one knows for sure. The Tycoon—Mr. Fletcher—doesn’t allow anyone up there, yet. Not until we know for sure.”
Breath freezes in my lungs. “I wasn’t, I mean, I wasn’t exposed to anything when I was in the water, was I?
He shook his head as he got to his feet. “Unlikely. I can’t say for certain, but I doubt you’ll sprout a second head or a third leg.”
“I feel so much better now,” I said. Really, what could I do about it? Freaking out would only distract me, and I didn’t have time to worry about anything else other than the patients at my door and finding what I needed to get home.
“Glad to be of assistance,” he said.
“We’ll change the bandage tomorrow. Doesn’t look like there will be any infection.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Thank you for letting me paw at you.” I nodded toward his arm. “I have to admit I’ve been insanely curious. It’s hard not to be, since everything is so different here and I have an innate need to see how things work.”
“Anytime,” he said, and I wasn’t quite sure if he was being serious or teasing me.
I nodded and went about putting the gauze and medicine back on the shelves, thinking he would head back to whatever it was he did that kept him busy all day long. Shouting orders. Pillaging. Ravishing maidens. Whatever it was pirates did down there.
But when I turned around, he was there watching me. “What?” I asked. “Are you hurt somewhere else?”
I couldn’t know if it was the sudden jerk of the floor that threw us together, or if he did it on purpose, but in the next second, we were smashing together, arms and legs tangling, breaths mingling. He hovered above me, his normal arm beside my head so he wasn’t completely crushing me with his weight and his other arm braced against the wall that would have collided with my head.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
I shook my head. “What the hell was that? Another one of those sea things?”
The look on his face was grim. “That was something else.”
Shouts could be heard from the hallway. Then an alarm started to squeal and lights began to flash.
“Something worse,” he added as another blow quieted all the voices and drowned out the alarms. He got to his feet and steadied me on mine. “You st—”
“If you think you’re going to lock me in this room like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum again, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Don’t make me regret bringing you,” he warned.
I didn’t have a chance to respond, because in the next second he had my hand and was pulling me through the doorway and into madness.
I knew something was wrong the second we stepped out of my room and into the hall when water rushed up to my calves.
We were going down.
Abandon Ship
My feet sloshed through the cold, dark water as fast as I could, but it still wasn’t enough to keep up with Ezra’s near-run.
I let go of his hand and shouted above the noise, “Run! Go! I’ll be fine!” He looked back at me once, but I forced him forward with a shove.
The slap of his boots against the water gradually receded in the distance, and I was left alone in what was probably a sinking submarine, God only knew how deep underwater.
For the first time, I considered, really considered, the fact that I may not make it home to Phoebe alive.
She’d be abandoned like I was.
Ne
ver knowing what happened to me.
Never knowing I didn’t willingly leave her behind.
Left to fend for herself against Aunt Millie.
I simply couldn’t allow it to happen.
The lights went out next; something must have interrupted the engine room, and I didn’t want to think what that could be. If one of the sea creatures had wrapped around the sub or dealt it enough blows, the engine room could be flooded, shutting off the power and stalling us in the middle of the ocean.
Leaving us completely at their mercy.
I sure hoped Ezra and Tink had something up their sleeves.
It was almost impossible to see where I was going without the lights from the lamps that hung from the wall. The only meager light came from the windows, and it was an eerie blue.
Cold. It was a level of cold I’d never registered before. Even encased in the sturdy boots and thick, serviceable socks they’d given me, my toes were numb. I could barely feel anything below my calves. Chills wracked me as I trudged through the water. I could see the door to the room where Ezra was, I could hear his shouted orders coming from the other side, but the short distance seemed so far when my feet felt weighted like cinderblocks.
My ears registered the distant sound of shouts coming from the watery grave behind me. Somewhere between the trek from my room and the control room, the submarine’s landscape had shifted and became an uphill climb. In the back of my mind, I knew it wasn’t a good sign.
The cold had sucked away my capacity to focus on anything else, but even so, I realized the tail going down must have meant we were sinking even faster than I thought.
I gripped door handles as I passed them to keep from falling in the growing dark pool of water behind me. On one such occasion, I paused, even though it took precious seconds. I pressed myself closer to the door, ears straining, and heard plaintive shouts from the other side.
The doors were thick, made from the same near-indestructible metal as the rest of the ship, which also meant they were astonishingly heavy. I wedged my icy hands underneath the lever to pry the door open, but I was no match for it. No amount of heaving and pushing and yanking could make the door budge.
Mechanical Hearts (Skeleton Key) Page 5
