by Lian Tanner
‘Wave,’ mouthed Dolph.
Petrel waved, and the resulting roar of approval almost knocked her off her feet. Ice fell from the turbines, and folk dodged it, laughing. Gulls fled in all directions.
But the shouting could not go on forever. As it died away, folk rushed for the bridge and squeezed inside, as many as could fit.
When the boy captain walked in, with Fin and Petrel supporting Dolph between them, all the talking stopped and a shyness fell upon the crew. Those at the front of the crowd regarded the silver boy with awe. But when he began to question them about who had died in the fighting, and about the fire and what they had done so far to mend the damage, their shyness vanished, and before long they were asking his advice on a myriad things, foremost of which was fixing the lectrics as quickly as possible so they would not all freeze to death.
The boy captain answered their questions with a knowledge of the ship and its crew that astonished everyone, including Petrel.
But then she realised. He’s got Mister Smoke’s and Missus Slink’s memories. That’s what we did with the little boxes, we gave him their memories. It had to be done, but now he’s got it all, and they’ve got nothing.
Sadly, she hugged the placid bodies inside her jacket. With the excitement over, she was feeling slightly sick. She wanted to be somewhere quiet, to mourn for the rats who had been her only friends for so long.
She knew they weren’t really gone. All their knowledge was there inside the boy captain, along with the memory of everything they had done over the centuries.
But it wasn’t the same, not for Petrel.
Around her, voices rose and fell. Krill talked loudly of getting rid of the tribes and working together for the good of the ship, and a surprising number of folk agreed with him. Dolph told everyone about Crab’s treachery, and about the rats and the Maw.
At one stage, Albie bullied his way to the front of the crowd, whacked Fin on the back and said, ‘I’m the one who rescued you in the first place, lad, don’t you forget that. It turned out to be the right decision, despite what certain folk said at the time.’
His words were no surprise to Petrel. Albie would always be where the power was. Where the decisions were being made.
But it was a surprise when he whacked her on the back and said, ‘This is a proud moment for our family. I always knew you had great things ahead of you.’ He grabbed Skua’s shoulder in a punishing grip. ‘I said so many times, didn’t I, son?’
‘Reckon so, Da,’ mumbled Skua.
Petrel was still a little afraid of her uncle. But she had meant what she had said on the bridge deck. There was to be no more hiding. No more scuttling round the edges of the crew. Apart from anything else, the captain was going to need her. After all, how could a boy of silver and wire, however cunningly made, know that Albie was lying? How could he know that Skua was afraid of his da, and that Squid had a warm heart, and that Dolph had loved her mam and was still grieving?
But Petrel knew those things, and a thousand more. Despite her sadness, she grinned at Albie, which surprised him so much that he dragged Skua away without another word.
Gradually folk set about the business of repairing the ship, and the crowd thinned out. When everyone but Fin, Petrel and Third Officer Hump had gone, the boy captain turned to the chart table, his delicate fingers tracing the course that the Oyster had followed for as long as anyone could remember, and for centuries before that.
‘The man who made me,’ he said, ‘thought that the world would be righted within a hundred years, no more. He thought that, by the time I woke, people would have given up their hatred of machines, and be crying out for the knowledge that I carry within me.’ He looked at Fin. ‘But I do not think that is the case.’
A furrow appeared above Fin’s blue eyes. ‘The Devouts still hate machines,’ he said slowly. ‘But the people in the villages— Their lives are so hard. They starve and die young. I believe they would welcome anything that made things easier.’
‘Then we must help them,’ said the captain, and his finger strayed from the old course and began to trace a new one.
Petrel’s breath quickened. ‘You mean, go north?’
Behind her, Third Officer Hump gasped. ‘North? Are you mad? I mean, north, Cap’n? Is – um – is that wise?’
‘I believe so,’ said the boy captain.
‘The Devouts will try to stop us,’ said Fin. ‘They are everywhere. They are more powerful than you can imagine.’
‘So is knowledge,’ said the boy captain. ‘Our expedition will not be without resources.’
Inside Petrel’s jacket, something wriggled. Then a rough voice mumbled, ‘I ’ope you’ve got back-up for this expedition, shipmate.’
Everything around Petrel seemed to grind to a halt. She opened her jacket. ‘Mister Smoke?’ she whispered. ‘But I thought—’
Mister Smoke’s silver eyes peered up at her, bright with mystery. ‘You gotta have back-up, shipmate,’ he said. ‘And if no one gives you any, then you gotta build it yerself.’
‘Mind you,’ said Missus Slink, poking her nose out, ‘we didn’t quite get the hind leg circuits right. You might have to carry us for a bit till we fix them.’
‘Um— All right,’ said Petrel, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, and wanting to do both at once, because there was more joy in the world than she could ever have imagined.
And so it was that early next morning, in the pearly light before dawn, when the whole crew had worked together to get the engines going again, and the Oyster had forced its way out of the pack ice into clear water, the silver boy gave the order to turn north.
‘Are you sure, Cap’n?’ asked Third Officer Hump, who was now First Officer.
The captain nodded. ‘We are going back to the world.’
‘We are going to change things,’ said Fin, who stood on one side of the captain.
Petrel, who stood proudly on the other side, said, ‘We’re going to find Fin’s mam.’
‘North it is, then,’ said First Officer Hump.
From inside Petrel’s jacket, Mister Smoke cried, ‘Full speed ahead, shipmate!’
‘But watch out for those valves,’ said Missus Slink. ‘They’re not as young as they could be.’
Petrel laughed. First Officer Hump swung the wheel. Third Officer Dolph – newly appointed to the position – banged out a rattle to Albie in the engine room.
And as the sun rose above the horizon, the ship turned and sailed north, like a bright light heading into darkness.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I hoped to go to Antarctica while I was writing Ice Breaker, but never made it. As a result, I was more than usually dependant on asking endless questions. Many thanks to the following people: Professor Gustaaf Hallegraef, of the University of Tasmania School of Plant Science, for helping me work out how the Oyster might be powered; Gwyneth Tanner, for a first-person account of dog sledding; Katherine Scholes, for the loan of her Antarctic photos;
Captain Simon Estella, for arranging my tour of the icebreaker Aurora Australis; Murray Doyle, Ship’s Master, for the guided tour of Aurora Australis, and for helping me work out some of Petrel’s hidey-holes; Firefighter Andrew Mackey, for reminding me that water pumped into a ship must also be pumped out; Gosta Blichfeldt, for reading the manuscript and explaining how engines, digesters and wind turbines might work together; Professor Pat Quilty, ex-ANARE Chief Scientist, for information about seasonal events and weather. For excellent editorial advice and guidance, I’d like to thank Eva Mills and Susannah Chambers at Allen & Unwin, Jill Grinberg and Katelyn Detweiler at Jill Grinberg Literary Management, and the redoubtable Peter Matheson. Also at Allen & Unwin, I’d like to thank Jyy-Wei Ip, Julia Imogen, Liz Bray and Angela Namoi. Sebastian Ciaffaglione’s exquisite cover illustration is the most beautiful one yet, and Design by Committee have made it even better.
As for my wonderful agent, Margaret Connolly – well, this book is dedicated to her, as a small thank-you for the work she
has done on my behalf.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lian Tanner is a children’s author and playwright. Her best-selling series The Keepers has been published to acclaim around the world. She has worked as a teacher in Australia and Papua New Guinea, a tourist bus driver, a freelance journalist, a juggler, a community arts worker, an editor and a professional actor. It took her a while to realise that all of these jobs were really just preparation for being a writer. Nowadays she lives by the beach in southern Tasmania, with a large fluffy tomcat called Harry-le-beau.
