by Jordan Rivet
“I don’t know,” Esther began. So the offer was still open. Could she leave the Catalina for a man she didn’t understand? A man she wasn’t sure she trusted? “My work . . .” She trailed off when she saw disappointment flash across David’s face. And maybe hurt. It was gone in an instant.
“Are you going to turn it on or not?” a voice cut in. Judith stomped down the steps, making the catwalk shudder.
“Sure. Just about ready,” Esther said.
David winked at her, face smooth again, and strode off to join Judith at the bottom of the catwalk stairs. He had asked her to go with him again! He wouldn’t do that if he wanted to return to the Galaxy. Why had she choked? She was so much better with machines than with people. At least, certain people.
Esther made sure the emergency off switch was clear and stepped over to the main control panel she had rigged up for the system. On the catwalk, Reggie shouted at everyone to be quiet. The crowd shuffled forward, making the metal creak. A hundred faces stared down at her. It was time.
Esther turned on the separator. With a grotesque sucking sound, it began pulling in algae and spinning it through the system. The engine room rumbled. So far so good. She had tested this part before. Next, she opened the valve to the refinery. The raw oil cycled through it. Reggie explained what was happening to the assembled crew. Next was the part they hadn’t tried yet: using the refined biofuel to run the engines.
The six marine diesel engines waited. They dwarfed all the other machinery, their tops level with the kneecaps of the people on the catwalk. Esther turned the final valve, allowing the fuel to flow to the injectors. She hit the intercom on the control panel.
“Engine control?”
“This is the ECR.”
Esther crossed her fingers. “Let’s do it.”
“Roger that, Esther.”
The engines grumbled, shaking the floor. From the outside it didn’t look like anything was happening, but the growls echoed around the cavernous room. The engines would be generating energy using Esther’s biofuel. It should be enough to power the propellers.
“ECR?” Esther shouted into the intercom.
She waited. The engines continued to roar. She looked at David. He was watching her, not the machine, a tic in his jaw.
Finally, a voice crackled through the intercom from the engine control room. “We’re at full power!”
“Fire up the propeller.”
The crowd on the catwalk leaned forward, holding their breath. Then the ship shuddered. The propellers were turning. They’d be churning up the seawater, gulping up energy, but this time they weren’t using any of the Catalina’s remaining fuel resources. This time, by way of Esther’s design, the propellers were being powered by the sea itself.
Then the Catalina moved.
The crowd on the catwalk broke into cheers. Even though they couldn’t see what was going on outside from deep in the engine room, they could tell that the ship was sailing forward.
“And we’re off!” Reggie shouted above the noise of the crowd and the machines. “Hell, we could sail all the way to land!”
Esther released her grip on the control console. Now the navigation officer would set a course for the Amsterdam Coalition. They were sailing toward their usual rendezvous, but this time everything would be different.
The crowd on the catwalk began making their way back to their posts, many calling congratulations down to Esther as they left. The demonstration was complete.
Esther joined David and Judith by the catwalk steps. She was proud of her system and she appreciated the cheers, but it was their approval that mattered most.
“Well?” she said.
“Good work, Esther,” Judith said, giving her a grudging nod. “Now, are you sure about selling this system? I think you should reconsider.”
Esther glanced at David. “No, I think Hawthorne’s right about trading it for a supply stockpile and new alliances. Let him try.”
“Thank you for your confidence, Ms. Harris,” David said.
Why was he so formal suddenly? Had she offended him somehow?
“This is going to change everything,” Judith said.
“I hope so,” Esther said.
David turned away abruptly. “Now that we know it works, Judith, shall we discuss the remaining trade? I think it would be wise to delay any big purchases until after we’ve sold Esther’s technology.”
“You think it would be wise, do you?” Judith said.
David wasn’t fazed by her dry tone. He simply continued his pitch, leaving the engine room at Judith’s side. He didn’t look back at Esther once.
Chapter 7—The Amsterdam Coalition
THE SKY WAS IN revolt as they closed in on the Amsterdam Coalition. After months of nostalgic blue, the atmosphere had coughed up some of the volcanic ash they thought had dissipated. Purple and vermilion mixed with angry, dark streaks as the Catalina approached the flat iron lines of the Amsterdam.
“It’s kinda ugly,” said Toni, stepping up beside Esther at the foredeck railing. Toni had worked with Zoe and Anita on the Galaxy Flotilla. She was tall and lanky, with dark skin and close-cropped hair.
“I love it,” Esther said. She leaned forward over the railing, the wind sharp on her cheeks.
The oil platform rose like an insect out of the sea, a handful of ships clustered around it. The rusty iron and pockmarked concrete of the structure were alive with activity. The rig had stopped extracting oil from the seafloor five years ago, but by then it had become such an important trading hub for the seabound survivors that people kept coming. Visitors would dock for a week or two, giving them enough time to trade their salvage for fuel and whatever they couldn’t make for themselves. They’d also catch up on the news of the world, such as it was.
The rig boss strictly regulated the docks so that no one would stick around for too long. Located above a blighted reef, the Amsterdam couldn’t sustain a huge population. It always had to make room for more trade and more ships, except for a handful of cargo ships that moored permanently at the platform. Their captains and the rig boss were the final authority on the value of the fuel, metal, and sustenance that circulated through their decks. Together, the platform and cargo ships made up the Amsterdam Coalition.
After the Catalina’s run-in with the Galaxy Flotilla, with its massive cruise ships and gigantic tankers, the Amsterdam looked small. Compared to the floating city, it was a measly trading outpost. But Esther still felt a thrill of excitement. Going to the Amsterdam was their only real holiday.
The Catalina chugged toward its usual mooring at the northern end. The water was choppy, making it look like the oil platform was pitching back and forth in the sea. There were a few ships in port that Esther didn’t recognize. The Catalina slowed and drifted to a stop at the edge of the platform, the decks nearly level. The crew tossed lines to the rig boss reps and prepared the seldom-used gangway. As soon as Judith registered the Catalina’s arrival, they would be free to explore.
“There’s Zoe and Anita,” Toni said. “Are you coming with us to check out the vacancies on other ships?”
“I have to pick up a few parts today,” Esther said.
“But it’ll be so much fun to meet the crews!”
Esther studied the insignia on an old warship nearby, a red crab inside a black octagon. The paint covered the national flag of whatever defunct navy the ship came from. It would be fun to explore the other ships, even if she couldn’t leave the Catalina yet. But she had already promised to show Cally the ropes.
“I’ll come tomorrow if you guys are still around.”
“All right,” Toni said. “See you later.”
She went to join Anita and Zoe in the bow. They were eager to move on. The Catalina wasn’t nearly exciting enough for them now that it didn’t need to be rescued anymore.
Esther felt a stab of regret. She didn’t want to lose her new friends. And then there was David. He had been busy sailing the Lucinda since the journey to the Am
sterdam began. She had missed his presence in the Mermaid Lounge. She didn’t understand why she cared so much. They’d worked well together during the rescue of the Catalina, but they were too different.
The deck bustled with Catalinans eager to do business with the Amsterdam. Cally’s mother, Constance, and her team of assistant seamstresses carried finished garments they planned to sell in the bazaar in exchange for harder-to-find fabrics and leather. Byron, the former Galaxy water taxi driver, followed them with a long list of sundries he’d pick up if the prices were good. He was the only member of the Galaxy who seemed to fit in effortlessly on the Catalina. He and his family would stay at least.
Esther turned back to the railing. The Lucinda sliced easily through the water between the Catalina and the ship with the red crab and glided up to the oil platform. She was a beautiful vessel, a fast Cyclone-class patrol ship built by the US Navy before the disaster struck. She had quickly become David’s pride and joy.
Esther couldn’t see David from here, but she imagined him double-checking the control panel in the pilothouse before locking it up tight. He was proving to be a skilled sailor. He’d have no trouble going his own way in that ship after she installed her biofuel system. He didn’t need the Catalina after all. He hadn’t broached the subject of her accompanying him since the final engine test. In fact, he’d barely spoken to her. He had been polite and formal when they’d passed in the dining hall the day before. It was almost like he was mad at her.
She shook off a twinge of irritation and made her way toward a patch of bright-red hair sticking above the throng on the Catalina’s deck. Cally had experienced yet another growth spurt recently. She looked more grown up every day, though she still bounced on her heels like a little girl.
“Esther! There you are! Are you ready for this?”
“It’s my favorite time of year,” Esther said.
“I can’t wait to explore! Mom didn’t let me see anything last year. Thought I’d fall off a rigging or something.”
“We’re still not climbing any riggings. We need to pick up some new cables first. I’ll show you the best shops.”
Esther usually did a little trading of her own at the Amsterdam. She’d pick up a few things while waiting for word on the sale of the separator designs.
Dirk stood by the gangway with Judith and Manny. He towered over Judith—who was not a short woman—bulky arms crossed. They were holding a barely civil conversation, while Manny looked anxiously between them. It had been agreed that Judith and Dirk would handle the large-scale trading together, but they would delay any major transactions until after David had auctioned off Esther’s energy technology. She wondered if he’d be able to pull it off.
“Did you hear me, Esther?” Cally tapped her foot impatiently, interrupting Esther’s study of the trio by the gangway. “I asked if Dax can come with us.”
“Hmm? Oh, sure. As long as he stays out of trouble.”
“Great! I’ll go get him. Wait for me!”
“Hang on, Cally. I forgot to mention: you can’t talk about how to make my separator system with anyone, okay? Hawthorne is planning to sell it. He’s going to do all the talking.”
“Sure, sure. Be right back!”
Cally skipped back into the crowd in search of her boyfriend, Dax, who was apparently back in her good graces.
Returning to the railing, Esther let the sounds of the Amsterdam Coalition surround her. Shouts from deck to deck, the grinding of machinery, the inexorable rush of water against hulls and pilings. A speedboat sputtered up to the oil platform between the bigger vessels. Other ships were arranged haphazardly around the structure, their faded paint jobs and windmills protruding at odd angles giving the assembly a ragtag feeling. The gathering might be smaller and less impressive than the Galaxy Flotilla, but it was good to be back.
After a few minutes Cally returned, tugging Dax by the arm. They were the same height now. Dax’s spiky black hair had grown longer, making him look even more like a sea urchin.
“Hey, Esther,” he said. “Haven’t seen you around lately.”
“Been busy. How’s the new crew?”
“Not bad. It’s a lot more work than Guest Services ever was.”
Dax had joined the galley crew, and he was proving to be a decent cook. He was particularly good at making fermented kelp more palatable.
“Where’s Neal?” he asked.
“No idea. Probably brooding in the Tower.”
“I can’t believe he’d miss the Amsterdam!” Dax said, tugging on one of the spikes in his hair. “I’ve heard so many stories about it. I’m pretty excited.”
Esther laughed. “You’re in for a treat.”
The three of them made their way down to the main deck, where the gangway rested. Esther caught sight of her father and Penelope walking arm in arm. They looked like they were out for a long walk on the beach. Esther grimaced and quickly pulled Cally and Dax across to the dock.
Judith had planted herself by the gangway and was making everyone sign a shell with squid ink and drop it into a bucket so she could keep track of all the comings and goings. She wore a scowl, like a shark in a net.
“Return by sundown. Do you understand, Esther?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“After what happened on the Galaxy, we can’t risk losing anyone.”
“If you guys hadn’t stayed behind, we’d all be dead!” Cally whispered indignantly.
“It’s fine, Cally. This is a good idea,” Esther said as she bent to sign her name, resting the shell on her knee.
Cally and Dax followed her lead. Esther looked over at the Lucinda. David stood in front of it on the dock, shaking hands with a stranger from the Coalition. Rig officials wore a braid on their shoulders to indicate their station. David gestured broadly, perhaps already in the middle of a sales pitch for the revolutionary new energy system.
“What do you think Hawthorne is up to?” Dax asked. “Do you reckon he’ll join the Amsterdam?”
“He’d make a good rig official, wouldn’t he?” Cally said.
Esther tossed the shell with her name into the bucket a little too hard. Cally didn’t know about Esther’s history with David.
“I don’t know what he’s doing,” Esther said. “Judith, are you having the Lucinda crew sign shells too?”
“Why would I? I’m sure Hawthorne can find his own way back to his ship.”
“I wasn’t just talking about him,” Esther mumbled.
“The Galaxians can do what they want. The sooner they go their own way, the better.”
Judith waved them along and handed a shell and ink pen to Bernadette, who had stepped lightly off the bridge behind them.
David was being introduced to a second Coalition official. He made a joke and clapped the official on the shoulder like they were old friends. Esther’s stomach sank. They’d be parting ways here, she realized. David would sell her plans, and then he’d be gone.
“Where do we go first?” Cally said, tossing her shell into the bucket with a clink. “Come on, Dax. How long does it take to write your name?”
Esther nodded at Judith and turned toward the entrance, which gaped like a wound in the belly of the iron rig. She wouldn’t let David Hawthorne ruin this visit to her favorite place. That man made her feel like a sailboat in a whirlwind, but she would enjoy herself today no matter what.
Chapter 8—Amsterdam Bazaar
CALLY LED THE WAY, nearly skipping across the platform, and they headed into the oil rig. Voices clanged against the walls, competing with the dimming sounds of the sea behind them. The smell of oil seeped from the concrete. The passageway was short, and soon they were stepping into the brightly lit cavern of the Amsterdam Bazaar.
Once, it had been the workers’ quarters, located next to the main drill floor, but the interior walls had been removed to create a pockmarked expanse, which was filled with the din of commerce. Most ships only stayed at the Amsterdam for a week or two, so the bazaar was an ever-changing t
umult of frantic deal making, swindling, and gossip. Someone somewhere was playing a saxophone, the notes adding to the cacophony of the bazaar.
“Wow,” Dax said. “What a mess.”
“You’ll get the hang of it,” Esther said, clapping him on the back.
They pushed their way through the grungy crowd down the nearest aisle. A woman selling handmade dyes displayed a multitude of colorful fabrics laid across a fat pipe. Jars of dye hung from cords around her neck. She was trying to sell an iridescent purple to a customer.
“Got it from a rare sea anemone. Had to go in close to the blasted shore to grab it. You won’t find this shade anywhere,” she said.
A boy with enormous glasses and a shaved head hawked watercolor paintings of “the wonders of the old world. You can hang your memories in your cabin forever!” He was young enough not to have any memories of the old world of his own. Bernadette, the resident artist from the Catalina, stopped to speak to the child. A man with one leg and only four fingers between his two hands shook a dented bucket full of small bolts and washers at them. The rattle of metal was lost in the chatter of the bazaar. Weathered seafarers crowded around dice games on the floor. Groups of women leaned close and shouted in each other’s ears about lost relations. At one table, a skinny girl with a scarred face offered single-page sheets of news gathered from across the sea. The headline screamed “Calderon Group Faces Scrutiny after Sinking of Blue Paradise.” Gossip flowed freely through the shoppers.
“You need some cord cables, girl?” A woman with a braid like a steel bar stepped into Esther’s path. She wore thick red galoshes and a smile.
“Rachel! You remembered.”
Esther gave the woman a hug. Her bones felt sharper, her flesh looser than the last time Esther had seen her.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll never forget how salt scared you were when you came round to my table asking for cords, I mean cables, er, cord cables all those years ago. My boy gave you such grief! I thought you’d bash his head in with your sharp little fists. A pint-sized pile driver, he called you.”
