by Jordan Rivet
“Hiya, Esther! I’ve been hearing terrible things about your incompetence all day long,” Cally said brightly as she sailed into the room.
Esther wiped her oily fingers on her work trousers. “What?”
“Oh, you know how rumors are. You blew up the engine room. You’re poisoning the water supply. You purposely destroyed the pumps during the last storm. People must be extra bored today.”
“Who’s saying this stuff?” Esther leaned back on her heels. How serious is it?
Cally smiled nonchalantly. She sat on the metal catwalk one level up from the engines and dangled her feet over the edge. She wore a pair of old bowling shoes.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I heard some of it from Maria Cordova, but those two ladies who work in the rations room were also talking about it. They said something along the lines of ‘If we all die, it’s her damn fault’—that sort of thing.”
“Does my father know?” Esther asked.
“Know what? Hey, did I tell you that Boston from the washing crew has been talking to me a lot lately? Keeps wanting to touch my hair.”
“Boston’s a moron. You can do better. Have you seen Frank or my father around today?”
“Nah, I assume your dad’s holed away writing somewhere, and Frank’s in the desal room,” Cally said. “Want me to get him?”
“No!”
Cally kept swinging her feet and cocked her head. “What’s with you?”
“Cally, there’s a real problem.” Esther struggled silently for a moment. How much should she tell? It sounded like the rumors might actually be worse than the truth. “I screwed up. And I mean really screwed up. I fell asleep when I was supposed to be monitoring a tank filler in the desal room.” Esther twisted the edge of her black T-shirt with greasy fingers.
Cally barked a laugh. “That’s it? You found me knee-deep in water just a few days ago because I was nine kinds of careless. You’re Esther. Screwing up for you is not like screwing up for me.”
Esther dropped her eyes to Cally’s shoes. The laces were frayed almost beyond use. One string was undone and swung low, like a clock ticking. “There was an explosion,” she said. “The whole desal system is destroyed.”
“Destroyed?” Cally’s legs stopped swinging. “What does that mean?”
“It means if we don’t fix it, we are going to run out of water,” Esther said. “We can evaporate the salt out of some of it, but that won’t be enough for everyone. We don’t have the fuel. Neal and I have a plan to get the materials, and I was hoping no one would find out. I don’t want people to panic.”
“I have to admit, I feel a little panicky right about now,” Cally said. “What’s the plan?”
“We’re on our way to meet up with a group of cruise ships that all travel together. We’re hoping they’ll have the parts we need . . . and water to spare.”
Esther looked down at what she’d found in the depths of her toolbox: a thick metal spoon, crumpled duct tape, a spool of rusted wire. Worthless.
“Wow, this is crazy,” Cally said slowly. “I guess you should be ready for people to be kinda mean to you for a few days.”
Esther gave a dry laugh. “Think so?”
Cally nodded. “If someone finds out the exact truth, the rumors are going to be the least of your worries. People will be pretty ticked off.”
“That’s the last thing I need,” Esther said. “The system’s fixable, but I’ll need free rein to trade when we meet with the other ships.”
Esther reached up and prodded the bandage on her face where the cut from the accident was still healing. She thought of Gracie Cordova’s smug face and forced her hand back to her work.
“You mean trade with Judith’s stores?” Cally said. “Good luck.”
Esther sighed. Cally was right to be skeptical. Judith had been guarding her stash of salvage like a barracuda lately, but Esther didn’t have enough stuff to trade on her own. She needed it.
“Great, thanks,” she said. “Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?”
“Ah, you’ll be fine,” Cally said. “I’m hoping this means you won’t yell at me the next time I put gears together wrong or something.” She smiled down at Esther, but her auburn eyebrows were pulled tight, her smile stretched a little too wide.
It was worse than Esther or Cally predicted. Gracie Cordova, herself not fully aware of the extent of the damage, going only off what she had wheedled out of Frank, had told everyone they were running out of water and it was all Esther’s fault. She told them Esther had ignored orders. That she was arrogant, like her father. Esther was amazed at Gracie and her cronies’ ability to change people’s opinions so quickly, and the timing of this news didn’t help. They were already raw after their encounter with the Orchid. The sickly terror of life at sea without drinkable water spread through the ship’s inhabitants like a virus.
By the time Esther left the engine room that night, angry stares rippled around her like wake on a windless day. Voices bombarded her as she crossed the plaza. They didn’t even try to keep her from hearing.
“She ruined it. The water system.”
“I heard we don’t have enough to make it through the week.”
“We can’t live without water.”
“Remember last time?”
“She should never be allowed belowdecks again.”
“My mom is hyperventilating in her cabin. She sent me up here to gather rations.”
“You can’t stockpile! That’s not fair!”
“Stay away from me.”
“Put down the bottle!”
“I’m getting that water.”
“Stop it, you two. Judith’s coming.”
Esther had nearly reached the doors to the outer decks when she heard those last words. She was desperate for fresh air, but she slowed as the voices around her quieted. She turned. Judith was stomping down the grand staircase, face like a frozen tornado. Morbid glee filled the eyes of the bystanders.
“Esther. Bridge. Now.”
Esther had never seen Judith look so furious. She’d never seen anyone look so furious. Her stomach turned over. She had no choice but to follow Judith through the corridors and up the stairs to the bridge.
The bridge ran the full width of the upper part of the ship. The windows opened out above the foredeck. Rows of silent computer consoles filled the room. Most of them were useless without the satellites. They hadn’t been fired up in years. A silent middle-aged woman named Ren operated the one computer that still controlled some of the ship’s systems. She wore the faded sailor’s uniform she’d been wearing on the day of the disaster. She had been working as a navigator in this very room the day the world changed. As far as Esther knew, she’d rarely left it since. Ren looked up when they came in, and Esther noticed that her eyes were dull, like sunbaked shells.
It was dark out, moonless. The fluorescent lights in the bridge created a mirror-sharp reflection in the windows. Esther could see the razor planes of Judith’s face in sharp relief and sense the glittering anger in her eyes.
“Talk,” Judith barked.
“It was an accident.”
Judith whirled around. “No excuses. What happened?”
“I fell asleep.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Esther tried to slow the rapid fire of her heart. “The desalination system overheated after a blockage created too much pressure. It’s destroyed. We can’t produce any more clean water unless we get new reverse-osmosis membrane filters. I’m sorry. I—”
“I don’t want apologies. Tell me facts.”
“Okay,” Esther said. “We need filters. We . . . I lied about the running storm so we could get more. There’s—”
“There’s a solution. That’s what you’re saying,” Judith snapped.
“Yes, but—”
“And you knew about the solution a few days ago.”
“Yes, but I didn’t want everyone to panic. It might not work and—”
; “Do you understand what causes panic, Esther?” Judith faced her across the room, standing as still as a pillar of salt. Esther’s bones shook, but she met Judith’s eyes.
“People are afraid of running out of—”
“Uncertainty,” Judith cut in. “And lies. When you hide things or when you make it look like you’re not sure whether something will work, it’s a hundred times worse than when people know there’s both a problem and a solution. We could have contained this.”
“I thought it would be better if—”
“You always think you know better, Esther. You’re handy in the engine room, and you think that gives you license to do things your way. I don’t need to tell you I warned you. More than once. You lied because you were too arrogant to accept responsibility for what you did. I’ve already talked to Neal about this Galaxy. Maybe they’ll help us. Maybe they won’t. But you’ve put this entire community at risk through your recklessness. And you’ve made it worse by not admitting the truth immediately. We could have gone on stricter rations days ago. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Esther felt like she was drowning. Wave after wave crashed down on her as Judith spoke. She had always believed Judith was unreasonably hard on her, that she was a tyrant with a personal vendetta against Esther because of her father. But this time, Judith was absolutely right. Esther was at fault. Ice-cold guilt filled her stomach. Finally, she dropped her eyes.
“Figure out what you need for the system,” Judith said. “When we meet the Galaxy, you’re coming with me to negotiate for parts. Do not trust anyone you meet. You have no idea what it was like a few years back. Your father sheltered you from the worst of it. Strange ships are not our friends. Now get out.”
Esther stumbled blindly from the bridge. She wished she could feel numb, but every one of Judith’s words replayed in her head, sharper than a recording. This time she didn’t even notice the angry stares as she retreated to her cabin.
Esther was sitting on her bunk and staring at the porthole high on the wall when her father came in. She had her storm goggles in her hands and was working her fingers along the rubber and plastic, checking for cracks and pushing loose edges back in place. Simon stood in the doorway for a moment, long enough for her to wipe the tears off her face. She waited for him to speak first, to lecture her, to express his disappointment. But he just sat down on the opposite bunk and pulled off his shoes. Then he handed her his faded handkerchief.
“Get some sleep, button. It will be better in the morning.”
It wasn’t. Fear brought out an ugly side to the community. Even though word spread that they were joining up with another group of ships, there was no guarantee the Galaxy Flotilla would offer the help the Catalina needed. What if they didn’t have the parts? What if they were hostile? They went on limited water rations immediately. Panic bubbled below the surface, sometimes spilling over in shouts and altercations. Some took it out on Simon, bringing up their old resentment of him. Others took it upon themselves to lecture Esther on taking better care with her duties. Some suggested not so subtly that she should try being an apprentice for a different occupation. She was really too young to be overseeing mechanical repairs anyway.
But worse than the direct admonishments were the whispers that followed her across the deck when she went up to catch her sunshine ration, the stony silences that greeted her in the dining hall. Esther was certain that if they were saying such harsh things to her face, the words they whispered behind her back must be worse. Even Reggie and Bernadette, who usually treated her like a niece—or a friend—had trouble looking her in the eye.
Esther was even more desperate to get away, to surround herself with the faces of strangers, something she hadn’t experienced since she was a child. Only Cally and Neal stuck with her. Neal had always been a loner, but he was implicated in this disaster because he’d lied to everyone about the storm forecast. Judith put him on probation and made sure Manny monitored all his communications as they approached the Galaxy.
Cally worked hard to counteract the anger at Esther by spreading fanciful ideas about what the Galaxy Flotilla would be like. Everyone was curious, and they speculated endlessly about the coming encounter. Esther overheard Cally talking to Reggie while he checked the third port deck for damage.
“There are at least half a dozen ships,” Cally exclaimed. “Can you imagine? Think of all those people! They might even run into people sometimes—like on the deck or something—that they’d never seen before in their lives.”
“Probably like the Amsterdam. You meet strangers there.” Reggie was absorbed in his work.
Esther skirted around them so she wouldn’t have to join the conversation.
“But we’re usually super far away from them,” Cally continued. “These are people they live with that they might never even see.”
“That’s what it was like to live in the big city. Before.”
Cally sighed. “I can’t wait!”
Cally wasn’t the only one who was excited. Everyone knew the Amsterdam Coalition; the Galaxy was true uncharted territory.
Chapter 11—The Galaxy Flotilla
THE SEA WAS UNUSUALLY calm, the afternoon sun stronger than normal, like a recently polished storm lamp. Everyone whose duties didn’t involve operating the propulsion system crowded onto the decks to watch as the Galaxy approached. The striations of the sky were calmer than usual too, more blue than gray. Esther finished her shift and jogged up to the deck, for once grateful that she was shorter than almost everyone else on the Catalina. She hid in a corner of the lido deck and scanned the horizon for signs of the ships.
She’d had a terse conversation with Judith that morning in which Esther was informed she would have to be present at the negotiations with the Galaxy’s leadership because she knew which parts they needed to restore their water system. Neal would come too because he was the only person aboard who’d had prior contact with the Galaxy. Judith had been on edge, like a pressure gauge teetering just outside the red zone. In the midst of her conversation with Esther, she’d broken off to shout at Manny, the one person who usually escaped her sharp tongue. Esther could understand why Judith was tense. The Galaxy Flotilla was an unknown entity. It could be hostile. Now, Judith waited in the bow, a death grip on a portable loudspeaker constructed from an old theater speaker, scanning the seas with grim determination on her face.
Cally, on the other hand, was almost bubbling over with excitement. She stood on the lowest rung of the railing on the main deck, her shaggy red hair waving like a wild anemone around her head. Others crowded around her, searching the horizon for the first sign of the strangers. Esther herself felt a surge of anticipation at the prospect of meeting others. She couldn’t help feeling caught up in the enthusiasm.
All eyes roved the horizon as they sailed toward it. The clouds were porous, barely more than threads in the sky. Murmurs ebbed and flowed as the crowd waited.
Cally saw it first. “There! I see something white! Fifteen degrees to port. That’s it, right?”
As she spoke, the white form on the horizon began to take shape. Cruise ships rose out of the sea like teeth: two . . . three . . . four, growing larger, glinting in the unnaturally clear day. As they drew closer, the assembly on the deck fell silent, in awe.
To say the vessels were huge was a colossal understatement. Every single cruise ship was bigger than the Orchid, dwarfing the Catalina entirely. These were the ships that would have carried up to four thousand passengers for luxury vacations. Smokestacks stood tall atop some of the structures, dominating the sky.
A pair of cargo vessels came into view as the Catalina drifted closer to the flotilla. They’d seen big cargo ships when they visited the Amsterdam, but these were another species—two, three times as big. Multicolored shipping containers piled high on the cargo giants. A massive crane was moving one across the sea.
Bridges spanned the gaps between the ships. Many of the windows on the decks were open. People had come out to watc
h the Catalina approach. Smaller vessels zipped between the behemoths like water beetles.
“Rust on a fish,” Esther whispered. “It’s a city.”
Around her, the crowds grew still, drawing a collective breath.
A smaller boat, a pleasure yacht, detached from the floating city and sped out to meet the Catalina. A group of people stood on its deck, one of them holding a loudspeaker, standing tall in the bow. His shock of blond hair was almost white, like the hull of the yacht. When the boat stopped, it wasn’t quite close enough for them to see the details of his face.
“Hello there! Do you speak English?” His voice carried over the water.
Judith was ready with her own loudspeaker.
“Yes. Are you the leader of this group?”
The man on the yacht exchanged glances with the people behind him. “Greetings. My name is David Elliot Hawthorne. I’m the spokesman for the Galaxy Flotilla. Welcome. May I ask the nature of your visit?”
“We’re here to barter for parts, then we’ll be on our way.” The blow horn masked some of the distrust in Judith’s voice, but not all of it.
The blond spokesman’s voice was smooth. “We have to ask if more than ten percent of your population has suffered from any illnesses in the last six months.”
“No, we are healthy here.”
“Then we welcome you to our home,” he said. “We would like to offer hospitality, food, and entertainment to your inhabitants for the duration of your visit. The Galaxy Flotilla welcomes traffic with other communities. Do you have smaller transport?”
“We have a speedboat and a few lifeboats.”
“Never mind,” he said. “We will send our ferries to bring as many aboard as wish to explore our flotilla. At this time, perhaps you’d like to accompany me on the yacht, ma’am.”
Judith nodded. “That will do.” She turned the loudspeaker back on her own ship. “Esther. Neal. Come with me. Manny, you will coordinate a party of visitors.”
