by Jordan Rivet
“And if the prisoner turns out to be not as valuable as they originally thought?” Esther asked.
She tried to pose the question casually, but Jacques stopped short. He looked back at her.
“Now why wouldn’t he be valuable to them?”
“Just a hypothetical—”
“You know better than most how valuable that technology is,” Jacques said. “This isn’t your first time working an engine room.”
“I know. I know. It’ll change everything.”
Jacques’s face took on a purplish tinge. “If there’s a chance that inventor won’t—”
“He’ll give you technology. I didn’t mean anything by that.” Esther spoke a little too quickly. She had a death grip on the wrench, but she forced herself to slow down and sound more girlish. “I’m just worried about him. I . . . I care about him so much, and I don’t want anything bad to happen.” She gave a tremulous smile and prayed it would be enough.
Jacques nodded but he didn’t smile again. He stomped across the engine room to check on the other workers. Esther returned to the pumps, stealing glances across the poorly lit room. Was he looking at her differently? She hoped she was imagining things.
After a few more turns of the wrench, she approached him.
“I’m finished with that set of pumps,” she said. “Do you need anything else?”
Jacques didn’t even look up. “No. Shift is up in five. Don’t worry about your boyfriend. You should watch out for yourself. Salt-burning Calderon Island is the least of your worries.”
Esther hurriedly shoved her tools back into her belt and left the engine room at a jog. Had Jacques’s tone been less friendly? She shouldn’t have said anything. She needed all the friends she could get.
Chapter 19—The Calderon Method
“HAVE YOU FOUND OUT anything about the Island, Neal?”
Esther twisted the antenna on her satellite phone, still afraid the bridge would pick up the signal somehow. Footsteps tapped through the corridor outside her cabin, making her heartbeat quicken, but the promenade beyond the porthole was clear. She stuck her ear closer to the speaker to catch Neal’s voice through the static.
“I’ve got evidence of a few rock formations in your sector,” he said, “but I have no way of knowing if they’re actually where the satellite puts them. Rust! This is so frustrating.”
“Thanks for trying,” Esther said. “Things are getting tense around here. We’ve been searching the same patch of sea for almost a week. We’re getting low on fuel.”
Esther had been checking in with Neal daily since the fight with the Calderon ship. He was trying to plot their progress as they zigzagged around a relatively small area.
The Calderon captive had provided approximate coordinates, but the Harvesters still hadn’t found Calderon Island yet. Everyone on board the Terra Firma was getting frustrated, Esther included. Time might have run out for David long ago. She hated waiting, not knowing.
“They still don’t know you’re the inventor, do they?” Neal asked.
“Shh. Let’s not shout about it.” Esther scrubbed at a drop of grease that had gotten into her trousers. “How’s my dad doing?”
“Worried. Angry. You know.”
Esther closed her eyes, imagining her father doing push-ups in their cabin or scribbling in the margins of one of his books. “I’ve given him a lot of excitement in the last few months,” she said.
“Yeah, well.” Neal breathed into the receiver. “He’s still good in a crisis. Judith is pissed. Cally too.”
“Story of my life. Anyway, I’ll keep you updated, as always.”
“Be careful, Es. Over and out.”
Esther pulled the antenna back in from the porthole, put the clunky device into her bag, and pushed the bag under her bunk. She’d worked a longer shift than usual that morning. Jacques had been pulling her aside for more intricate projects lately. She was learning a lot, but she couldn’t shake the sense that he was testing her.
She pulled down the neck of her shirt to check the bruise on the back of her shoulder. The purple shades had disappeared entirely and the bruise was now yellow green. It looked like an algae bloom growing under her skin. Satisfied that it was healing well, she lay back on the thin mattress and stuck her boots over the end of the bunk, settling in for a nap.
Suddenly, a shock wave rippled through the ship, tumbling her out of bed. She landed on her hands and knees with a sharp jolt.
A volley of shouts echoed through the corridor.
“We got company!”
“All hands on deck!”
“We found the salt-loving bastards!”
Esther picked herself up off the floor as the door flung open. It was Zoe.
“We’re in for a big one this time, Esther. Let’s move!”
She reached her bunk in two long strides and began extracting weapons from their various hiding places.
“What’s happening?”
“Met a patrol of some kind,” Zoe said. “Calderon boys. The Island must be close.”
“Finally.”
Esther grabbed her raincoat and tool belt, slung her storm goggles around her neck, and followed Zoe back out the door.
“I was starting to think we’d be sailing in circles for the rest of our lives,” Zoe said.
Their steps rang in the metal corridor. Shouts echoed around the ship. Esther felt a thrill of excitement and fear.
“We were going to run out of fuel soon,” she said, jogging to keep up with Zoe’s long strides. “I thought they were going to give up.”
“That wouldn’t happen if you’d install your magical energy system,” Zoe called over her shoulder.
“Shut up!” Esther hissed.
But it was too late. Luke stepped out of the cabin directly in front of them. They stared at each other. There was no pretending that he hadn’t heard.
“Seriously, Esther? Your system?”
He seemed more confused than angry. He stood very still as people pushed past them in the corridor.
Their secret was blown. Shit!
“You’ve got to keep this quiet, Luke,” Esther pleaded. Thankfully, no one else seemed to have heard. They could trust Luke—she hoped. “Please?”
“What’s all this been about then?” he asked.
Before Esther could answer, the ship lurched, shouts ricocheting into the corridor.
“We got to get up there,” Zoe said.
Luke didn’t respond. Their lives and David’s balanced in his hands.
“Please keep it quiet for now,” Esther begged. “We’ll explain later.”
Luke raised his eyebrows. “All right. We’ll talk later.”
He pushed past them, heading for the armory.
Esther and Zoe exchanged worried looks. They couldn’t do anything about it now. They would just have to trust Luke to guard their secret.
They darted onto the deck and into pandemonium. Thick fog cloaked the sea. It was midday, but the light was choked and strained. It was impossible to see more than a few feet beyond the railing.
The Harvesters darted around, weapons in their hands and fear on their faces. Some flailed like decapitated eels, getting in each other’s way as they struggled with safety locks and slings. A young man tripped in front of Esther, shouting as his long limbs sprawled across the slick deck. Others moved with more purpose, checking their weapons and climbing up the turrets and into the fog. They had survived their first battle, and their manic energy had dissipated over the past week. Still, they held their guns in tense hands.
This time the situation was more serious.
“There are two of them!” someone shouted.
“Where?”
“I can’t see anything.”
Suddenly bullets ripped through the cloud bank, seeming to come from all directions. A Harvester screamed in the mist.
“Get that gun pointed this way!”
“Incoming!”
“Salty rusting sinking hell!”
Wind swirled the fog, briefly revealing Patrick in the prow, spraying bullets into the soupy air. Zoe cursed and started toward him.
“I’m going to get a few of these morons organized. Send Luke if you see him.”
“Good,” Esther said. “I’ll—”
“You! Mechanic!” the first mate hollered at Esther. She stood on an upper turret, partially exposed to the gunfire, silhouetted against the fog. “The mount on this gun’s jammed.”
“Go ahead,” Zoe said, and ran to stop Patrick from firing aimlessly.
Esther grabbed the ladder and swung up beside the first mate. “I got it,” she said.
She pulled out her wrench and went to work. The gun stand was supposed to swivel 360 degrees, but a chunk of hard rust had lodged in the mount. Esther hacked at it as a shell hit the sea nearby. Water cascaded over them, leaving her hands slippery.
The fog took on a life of its own, oozing around them and transforming the first mate into an otherworldly creature. Someone screamed, a long, gurgling sound only partially deadened by the fog.
“Hurry up, mechanic,” the first mate said through gritted teeth.
“Almost there.”
Esther switched her angle so that the barrel rested above her shoulder and pounded the wrench again. She felt much calmer fixing this gun than she had holding one in the last battle.
“At least we found the bastards,” the mate said. “They’re defending something. It’s gotta be the Island this time.”
The chunk of rust shot free of the gun mount, and Esther ducked as the mate swung it around to point at the attackers.
The fog broke for a moment, revealing the two enemy ships. One was a midsize trawler outfitted with a row of machine guns. The other was a small warship, not unlike the Lucinda. Neither one would be a match for the Terra Firma alone, but they attacked from two sides, and the Harvesters lacked the experience to counter them effectively.
The two ships sailed close to the Terra, sending volleys across its deck. The first mate unloaded the machine gun over Esther’s shoulder. Esther jammed her hands against her ears and stayed low.
Suddenly, the two ships broke away and dashed back into the thickest fog. All gunfire ceased. It was impossible to tell which way they had gone. This was the Calderon Group’s famed assault strategy: dart in and bite like silver pike, then retreat.
“They know what they’re doing,” Esther said.
She stood and scanned the fog bank. The men of the Terra Firma watched the mists, wide-eyed, waiting for the next assault. For a long moment it didn’t come.
The fear was palpable. Esther held her breath.
“They’re behind us!” someone shouted.
The two ships split through the clouds resting on the surface of the water behind the Terra. Gunfire screeched across the deck. The crew ran to the stern to meet the assault. A figure went down beneath Esther’s turret, but in the commotion she couldn’t tell who it was.
“Get down!”
The first mate grabbed Esther’s shoulder and wrenched her to the floor as a shell ripped past them, exploding on the upper deckhouse. Men screamed and metal tore like paper.
Sweat dripped from Esther’s forehead to the slick floor of the turret.
“Thanks,” Esther said.
“Go down there, where you can be more useful.”
The first mate stood and let loose another burst from the big machine gun.
Esther leapt down to the main deck as shots hammered her eardrums, taking care not to step on the fallen crewman. She checked his pulse, but the holes ripped through his body were evidence enough. She picked up his machine gun and let him lie where he fell.
She made her way to the stern in a crouch, the gun propped inexpertly against her arm. As she reached a group huddled behind the base of the harvesting crane, the gunfire ceased. The Calderon ships melted into the mists again.
“Where they coming from next?” one of the men said.
“Eat salt if I know,” answered another.
Esther and her small group rounded the Terra each time the Calderon ships attacked from a new side. She couldn’t see any of her friends. She fired, the gun jerking in her hands, not sure whether or not her shots found their marks. Sometimes the ships came together; sometimes they sailed in from opposite sides. There was no pattern or rhyme to their movements, yet they acted perfectly in sync. With each assault, Harvesters fell. The groans of injured men multiplied across the ship.
Esther was exhausted, but each barrage pumped her up with more adrenaline, until her limbs were shuddering. Sweat and saltwater drenched her clothes. Her fingers slipped on the trigger of her weapon. The attack lasted about thirty minutes but it felt like days.
Finally, the fog began to lift, burned away in the afternoon sunlight. As the mist dissipated, the Calderon attackers lost some of their advantage. Their outlines remained clear, even when they pulled away. After a final barrage of shots, they disappeared, sailing in opposite directions. The Terra Firma remained afloat.
Esther’s group ended up back near the first mate’s turret. She climbed down the ladder on unsteady legs and joined them. Esther felt a flash of relief that Liana had survived. The woman had saved her life. She wasn’t sure she liked that feeling of kinship. She had seen what this woman was capable of. Liana nodded at Esther, then looked away sharply.
They scanned the sea for any sign of their attackers but couldn’t see where the ships had gone. Then a break in the clouds revealed a spire of rock in the distance.
The Island.
It was tall and ominous, sitting on the horizon like the jagged edge of a conch shell. Something metallic shone where stone met sea, perhaps the hull of a ship, perhaps a structure.
“Looks inhospitable,” Liana said.
“Think they’ll come after us again?” Esther asked.
“I doubt anyone’s come this close to their little hideout before, Esther. They’re attackers, not defenders. Maybe they don’t know what to do.”
“Like us?” Esther said.
Liana gave her a hard look, then nodded. “They’ll regroup and attack with more force next time, unless we hit them soon.”
“Are we ready? We don’t know what’s over there,” Esther said.
“Your inventor better be over there is all I know.”
Mists teased them with views of the conch in the distance. The black shell grew as they inched closer to the Island. Yes, David better be over there, Esther thought.
Liana turned from the railing to begin barking orders at the crew, back to her hard-nosed first-mate role. Esther looked around for Zoe. Then Luke let out a roar from the other side of the ship.
No! Esther felt a sharp pain like a kick in the stomach. She and Liana exchanged glances and ran toward a small crowd forming on the portside deck. Their boots slipped on the hammered steel tread. A puddle of blood glistened on the floor. As they drew nearer, they could hear Luke’s words better.
“Not Patrick! Why?”
Patrick lay on the deck, his fair hair matted and wet. There was a jagged hole in his gut. Luke knelt over him, gun slung across his back. Blood spread out around him. A handful of crew watched silently as Luke wet the only dry patch of Patrick’s coat with his tears. Esther imagined Patrick’s father leaving messages at the Amsterdam for his son. She could see him, an older, grayer version of Patrick, approaching Rachel’s stall, his jacket still wet with sea spray, expecting a note or a gift or even his son waiting for him. They would never see each other again.
Zoe came running then. She made a small noise in her throat when she saw Luke kneeling over Patrick’s body. She and Esther watched solemnly as their friend grieved.
After a while Luke closed his friend’s vacant eyes. Then he raised his head and stared at the crowd gathering around him.
His eyes fell on Esther.
“You!”
“Oh, rus
t.”
“What’s all this for, huh? You sent us into this shit storm for nothing. You know how to build that salting technology. I heard what you said before. You’re the real inventor, aren’t you? And now you’ve gotten Patrick killed, you manipulating daughter of a sea-slug farmer.”
Esther stood bolted to the deck as the crew erupted around her. Some were confused, but rumors about the technology had been making their way through the ship. They knew what they were chasing. And Esther had it all along.
Esther didn’t even have time to run. Liana grabbed her arms and shoved her to the deck while the others were still shouting questions or staring between her and Luke. Esther had a good view of Zoe’s shoes as she struggled with Rawlins nearby before she too was pushed to the ground.
“So,” Liana purred in Esther’s ear. “You must think you’re clever. Captain Alder will have a few choice things to say about this.”
“Please let me explain,” Esther said. “Liana, I can give—”
“Shut up! You will address me as First Mate, mechanic.”
She slammed Esther’s head against the deck, making black sparks float across her vision.
Chapter 20—Caught
IN SHORT ORDER, ESTHER and Zoe were locked in their cabin, with an armed guard at their door. The first mate told them she and Captain Alder would see them as soon as they dealt with the aftermath of the battle.
“There’s got to be something we can use in here.”
Esther felt along the edge of her bunk for loose screws. The first mate had taken her tool belt, but she could improvise.
“You’ve gotten out of scrapes like this before, haven’t you, Esther? All part of the fun?”
Zoe didn’t look as optimistic as she sounded. She scrubbed at a spot of blood on her coat.
“We have to move fast. We’re already sailing.”
The Terra Firma was returning to the Amsterdam. Captain Alder must have realized that his men weren’t ready to assault the Island. There was no hurry now that he had Esther. He would lock her up and make her build the biofuel system. The Harvesters would return to storm the Calderon headquarters another day, after her system had made Captain Alder the most powerful man in the New Pacific. Esther would never see the light of day or feel the sting of the salt breeze on her skin again.
