The Silver Ship and the Sea

by Brenda Cooper

  Tom pulled up a sat-shot on his data reader, overlaid the blue line of our progress and the green line of the path, and pointed out the next node, by a small cabin nestled in an oblong meadow. “This is only a little farther. The road to it looks clear. I don’t see any trail damage between here and there.” He sighed and looked out at the rain. “Kayleen? Can you fix this node from inside?”

  She sighed. “I think so. Except I’m too darned cold and shivery to do anything useful.”

  Tom grinned and handed Kayleen the blanket he had wrapped about his shoulders. “Here. Use this. I’d rather keep going.”

  Kayleen took the blanket, huddling deep inside it. “In the rain?”

  “It will let off sometime today.”

  Kayleen sighed. She closed her eyes and lay back, still shivering slightly. Alicia watched her closely. There was little to see: Kayleen lying still with her eyes closed and her arms folded across her stomach. After a while she opened her eyes and said, “All right. I’m done. This was easier than the last one, and it’s hooked all the way back to Artistos. Let’s go.”

  Tom glanced at his data reader. “Confirmed.” He smiled wryly, watching Joseph sleep. We were fixing the network, but this was not what Nava had sent us out for. Joseph snored softly from his corner. If he could just break through, we could finish a lot faster and get back home.

  Paloma peered out the tent door. Water fell fast and hard. Drops plinking in a nearby puddle made concentric rings of water like stones in the river. “I think we should wait for this to slow down.”

  Kayleen snorted and lay back down.

  The rain didn’t slow. Tom got up and checked on the animals, returning soaked.

  We waited.

  Sometime past midday, thunder crackled overhead and jagged forks of lightning filled the sky. Joseph woke and sat peering out the door, watching the storm. Kayleen and Paloma wrote busily on their data readers, recording the details of the journey. I listened to the rain, listened for the boundary bells, and to the hebras’ footfalls as they shifted uneasily in their hobbles. Alicia scooted close to Joseph, not touching him, and looked outside, both of them silent. I caught the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes at one point, and wondered what she was feeling and why, but decided not to ask her in the crowded tent.

  Joseph smiled, apparently drinking in the raw electric fury that danced overhead.

  I pulled out my flute, playing softly. Liam had never found time to teach me, and the notes came out wobbly and uneven. I wondered what Bryan and Liam were doing, and if the storm touched them, too.

  The thunder finally passed us by, falling away so we could hardly hear it, and the sky cleared to cerulean blue, washed bright and shining. A fresh set of thunderheads piled over the mountains beyond the lake, but for now, we emerged from hiding into sparkling rivulets of water touched by sunlight. We packed quickly, drying the tents with dirty clothes, stuffing all of the damp things into one bag to hang out later.

  As we pulled ourselves up the knotted mounting ropes, I looked over at Alicia and whispered, “It’s a beautiful afternoon. Can you see it—see how pretty the lake is?”

  She shook her head.

  But Joseph smiled momentarily, looking better for his nap. I leaned over to Tom, who had one of the pack animals. “Can we ride ahead?” I asked. “Just for a bit? Give the animals some exercise?”

  He frowned at me, but looked around. Paloma had the other pack hebra; they couldn’t move fast. The path in front of us was clear and wide, the clouds far enough away to offer no immediate threat.

  A dark hint of resolution in his eyes and the set of his mouth telegraphed that he was about to refuse me.

  I smiled as brightly as I could. “We really need a break. I’ll be watchful; we all will. We can stay in contact on the earsets.” I tapped my ear lightly. Kayleen and I both wore them this morning. “Please?”

  He glanced at Paloma, who gave a short little nod before saying, “They have to grow up sometime.”

  “I guess I’m outnumbered. Be careful. It’s only a few kilometers to the cabin anyway. But no running—it’s muddy. And check in with us every few minutes.”

  “Thanks!” I smiled at the others. “Let’s go!”

  We took off at the hebra’s fastest walking gait, shifting into a slow run as soon as we were around a corner and out of Tom’s and Paloma’s sight. Alicia leaned down over Ink’s neck, laughing, and Kayleen and Joseph ran next to each other, barely bothering to pull the hebras’ pace back at all. Mud from the animals’ split hooves splattered up onto my feet and pants. The beasts seemed to feel as happy in the small freedom as we did, stretching easily into a gentle run, noses forward, ears pricked. The path stayed wide and clear, except for two small storm-water streams. Stripes took the lead in the absence of Sugar Wheat.

  Stripes slowed as we ran alongside a small cliff. The trail narrowed and turned away from the water, rising steeply uphill through a stand of tent trees and yellowing fall ladies that brushed at us with lacy leaves. Boulders lined the path. We passed one that had probably fallen in the quake, shattering the trunk of a small evergreen tree. The top leaves were already brown with death.

  I pulled Stripes back to an even slower walk, suddenly cautious, bunching the others behind me. We crested a small hill, keeping the hebras close together. Below us, the long stream-cut valley and small cabin from the sat-shot sparkled as sunshine touched puddles of standing water and glittered on three streams that ran into the valley, joining just before they poured into the lake.

  I narrowed my eyes. The valley was too low to make sense for a data spike; signal wouldn’t climb up the steep valley walls. I finally spotted the spike a few meters to our left, nearly hidden by a pile of rocks, clearly good line-of-sight all the way across the lake and far up and down both banks. Three pods were strapped together near the top; a major node.

  Alicia whispered, “Djuri.”

  I squinted down at the meadow. Sure enough, three djuri grazed below us, one quite near the cabin. A soft breeze blew the hair from my face, filling my nostrils with the soft musk of djuri, the damp grass, all mixed together. I spotted another one, then another. Surely there was a whole herd. “Tom,” I spoke into the earset. “I think we’re here. I can see the cabin.”

  He laughed. “Then you’ve been moving too fast.”

  “We’re safe,” I protested.

  Joseph dismounted and handed his reins to Kayleen. I expected him to head for the spike, but he simply stood, very still, looking down.

  “Tom, I’ll get right back to you, okay?”

  “Everything’s all right?”

  “Sure. We’re fine.”

  “Well, we’re at least a half hour behind you. Sugar Wheat has a bad stone bruise, we’re going slow.”

  “All right. We’ll check the cabin out.”

  “Be careful.”

  As soon as I closed the connection, I dismounted and stood next to Joseph. “What are you doing? We’re not as safe on foot.”

  He handed me Legs’s reins, and in a fit of stupidity, I took them. Then he was gone, down-trail, moving silently but fast.

  I thrust both sets of reins at Alicia, and spoke to them both. “Stay here! You can see on all sides, and it’s safe. Stall Tom if he calls.” I followed Joseph, who was already fifty meters ahead of me. I dislodged a pebble, and Joseph stopped and turned, his fingers over his mouth, signaling me to be quiet.

  Then I knew.

  He intended to hunt a djuri. I glanced down at the animals. They all looked bigger than the one he’d caught the day before. I gestured to him to wait. He stood his ground, still except for his fingers, which drummed against his thighs.

  When I reached him I whispered in his ear. “There could be other predators there.”

  He shook his head. “Remember, I can hear the data nets again.”

  “Aren’t they broken?”

  “Two nodes here still talk to each other. Really, it’s okay. I’d know if there was anything as big as a p
aw-cat here. Relax.” He grinned at me, eyes dancing, face flushed with excitement. “Come on. You’ll see.”

  The net out here was more porous than the perimeter nets at home, or the ones we set up every night, but he had seen the paw-cat just before the quake, along the High Road.

  He continued down the path and I followed, resistant to every step. We shouldn’t be doing this. We should be sticking together, like a herd of hebras, watchful. I glanced back up the path. Kayleen and Alicia had both dismounted, and stood watching, each holding two hebras.

  Joseph waited for me at the edge of the meadow. Scrub trees protected us from the djuri’s sight, and the wind still blew in our favor. He leaned in close, whispering. “The trick is to get close to them, catch them unaware. Then run alongside the one you pick. Keep with it. Yesterday, my djuri wore out before I did. When you can, catch the horns and twist, breaking the neck. You have to pull backward. Only do it fast. That’s what Jenna was talking about yesterday.”

  I scanned the meadow. Two groups of five or six djuri stood bunched together, and three single djuri scattered around them, heads up. Watchers, like hebra herds had watchers? I didn’t know; I’d never seen wild djuri so close. Was Jenna watching us even now? “How are we going to get close?”

  He grinned back at me. “Belly crawl. Pretend you’re a paw-cat. On my signal, run.”

  I didn’t like either part of that idea, but I followed him out. He wasn’t exactly on his belly; just moving low on all fours, poised to run. The thigh-high yellow grass slowed us. White tufts of grass seed blew in the wind, sticking in his hair, my hair. Surely the djuri would see us move the grass. Other predators, too. I glanced behind us. Nothing followed us. But I could still see Alicia and Kayleen and the four hebras. Didn’t the djuri see them? What was Joseph thinking? I could stop this. Jump up and scream, scare the djuri. But Joseph? How would he feel, then?

  A sharp rock stabbed my palm.

  I slowed, bringing my focus to the task at hand, discarding worries. I no longer looked back and up, but just followed Joseph’s feet, sliding as silently as possible through the grass. Every once in a while, his head rose up slowly, then down, and we changed direction. The djuri smell, dusty coat and grass and dung and forest, grew more distinct from the scent of the grasses.

  Joseph whispered, “Go right, then forward.”

  I obeyed. Were Tom and Paloma listening? My breath sounded loud in my ears. Every strand of grass my body displaced slid noisily along my clothes, every footstep made a crunching sound. Was I really going to do this? Was I crazy?

  Joseph’s whisper again, high and excited. “Now!” He leaped up, running fast.

  I, too, leaped up and found a startled djuri five meters from me, veering away even as I saw the fear in its eyes, its tiny flared nostrils, pink inside. The horns were small, just longer than my fingers. Young.

  It bounded.

  I followed.

  It gained distance, flying away from me, rump bouncing, hooves flashing. I pushed, keeping pace again, but now behind. Ten steps, twenty, then thirty. More. Too many to count. As it neared the stream, it slowed, turning away from the water.

  I gasped little ragged breaths, remembered Bryan had taught me to breathe through my nose, shifted, felt air feed my lungs, my belly, my legs. I gained a meter on the djuri. Grass pulled at my pant legs, threatening to catch my feet and throw me headlong. A sharp pain ran up my leg from the paw-cat scratch.

  Joseph yelled triumph and Tom yelled anger into my earset and Kayleen screamed encouragement from the top of the trail, all in a tunnel far behind my focus, which had drilled down onto the heaving sides of the beast, the dun color of its hide, now soaked with sweat, the dark stripe that started in a vee at the horns and flowed along its backbone to its tail. It strained for air. Its head bobbed almost as high as mine, but its legs were shorter, thinner. Less powerful. We ran, now almost side by side.

  My eyes met its eyes. Its fear smelled.

  I breathed in sharply and lunged. My left hand caught its neck, halfway up, grasped the sparse little mane. It stumbled. I clasped a horn with my right hand and jerked backward. The djuri tumbled sideways, screaming in a high shrill voice, a sound like Jinks’s scream just before the paw-cats got her. I tripped, catapulting past the fallen djuri before stopping myself on all fours, knees and palms, head down, heaving, pulling air in great gulps.

  As soon as I could, I stood. My legs wobbled as I walked the ten long steps back to the animal. It lay on its side, still breathing. No fear filled its eyes now, only pain. I leaned down and patted its head briefly. I no longer wanted its death, but one leg splayed awkwardly, a shard of white bone breaking the skin.

  Someone groaned and whimpered and I realized it was my own voice. I clamped my mouth shut, stopping the noise. All movement seemed unnaturally slow. I placed one hand on each horn, gripped firmly, and twisted, hard.

  Bone splintered. A horrible sound.

  The pain leaked from the djuri’s eyes, replaced by a still dark pool that reflected my own sweat-stained face back at me, the way a sphere reflects: oddly. My hair was wild about my shoulders, my mouth open, my eyes wide. I stood, looking away from its eyes, looking for Joseph.

  The din in my ears resolved into voices; Kayleen and Tom on the earset and Joseph near me. All of them at once. I screamed, “Quiet!” and everyone obeyed, instantly. I had no idea what to say into that silence. ‘I just killed something and its eyes mirror mine,’ didn’t seem quite right. My breath was still fast, and surely loud enough to deafen them all. “I…I’d like to report…a successful…dinner catch.”

  Joseph laughed, a hard, nearly maniacal laugh, and I joined him, releasing the fear and adrenaline and shock of the hunt. Suddenly my muscles hurt, my leg hurt, my palm where I’d slapped the rock hurt. My heart pounded. But beneath the pain, elation. I beat the animal. I had become a hunter. It felt completely strange, like a skin that fit perfectly but had never existed before, even in my imagination.

  Joseph came and stood by me, his sides heaving, his face covered in sweat and dirt, blood on his hands. His eyes shone. I hugged him, tightly, and we stood for a long moment together, brother and sister in something new. I made sure the communications link was closed and whispered in his ear, “Thank you.”

  He looked down at my kill, nodding. “You’re welcome.”

  I looked around for Jenna, but saw no sign of her. If she had watched our hunt, she didn’t bother to reveal herself to us.

  Joseph’s djuri was bigger than mine, and a clean kill. The blood came from Joseph’s hand, which had been scored by one long, graceful horn. His animal was too big to move, so we pulled mine to his, and stood over them. Mine looked small in death, and eyeing it, I became unsure what to do next. Our large knives were in our pack, back with Tom and Paloma. Joseph had the small one he used to whittle his animals. He took it out, staring at it. It looked entirely inadequate for the job.

  We looked up at the sound of a hebra’s fast footfalls, and Tom’s voice. “Chelo! Joseph!” He was galloping Paloma’s hebra, Sand, looking around wildly. I glanced up the trail. There was no sign of Paloma, or of Kayleen or Alicia either, although Stripes and Legs stood at the top of the path where we’d left them, apparently hobbled. Tom jerked his head toward them. His voice had a new angry edge I’d never heard in him. “Get your animals and get back down here, now.”

  “Where’s Alicia and Kayleen?” I asked.

  “I sent them back after Paloma.” He glared down at me, a look that left me feeling flayed and childish. “I had to leave her alone to come watch over you.” He panted. “Alone. Out there.” He turned his glare on Joseph. “Never, never hunt without a stunner.” He gestured at the carcasses. “Dead animals attract paw-cats. I’ll watch the carcasses while you bring your hebras down here where they’re safe.”

  “It’s safe,” Joseph said, evenly, but despite his measured words, the anger in his voice matched Tom’s anger. “I can hear the nets. Two nodes work here.” He pointed tow
ard the high node by the hebras. “And so does the big one, partly. It’s enough net to identify anything the size of a paw-cat coming into this valley.”

  Tom pursed his lips, still looking around. “Not demon dogs or wild orries. Get your animals.”

  We turned as one, heading back across the meadow slowly, the grass harder to walk through than it had been to run through, the effort burning my thighs. I glanced at Joseph, who walked with his head down. “He’s angry.”

  “I know,” Joseph mumbled, and we kept going, sharing a shocked tired silence. As we neared the top, Joseph stopped for a moment, a puzzled look on his face. His hand slipped into his pocket and he brought out the data button. “I feel something. There’s more here. More of these. Somewhere nearby.” He flipped the button over and over in his bloodstained palm, a thoughtful look on his face. “We have to find whatever it is.”

  I sighed, wondering how much we’d regret the hunt. “Well, I suspect they won’t let us go anywhere alone for a little while.”

  He smiled. “It was worth it.”

  “Maybe.”

  Stripes snorted at me, shaking her head. The look in her eyes seemed changed, as if she saw me as a predator, as if my hunting had changed something between us. Maybe that was my imagination, but she stood still, looking away from me as I pulled into the saddle.

  We rode down, and shortly thereafter, Paloma, Kayleen, Alicia, and all five hebras started down the path. Paloma had dismounted and led Sugar Wheat, who favored her right foreleg slightly as she slowly picked her way down the hill. Even back on level ground, Paloma continued to walk, and Kayleen and Alicia rode slowly alongside her, each leading one pack animal. As they neared us they looked away. I supposed they must have been getting quite a lecture on the way here.

  Paloma reached Tom, a tired smile crossing her face, but not touching her eyes. She gestured toward Sugar Wheat. “We may be here a day or two while her foot heals.”

  Tom nodded curtly. Joseph and I looked at each other, and he fingered his pocket meaningfully. Perhaps we would have time to look for whatever he sensed.