by Jordan Rivet
She found him leaning against the bar, surrounded by a rough-looking contingent of traders. He didn’t acknowledge her when she stopped at the edge of the crowd. He was too busy orating.
“. . . change our life as we know it at sea. The owner of this technology could sell the biofuel or keep it and dominate all the competition. This is worth more than my weight in oil, if you know what I mean.”
“How do we know your system will work?” said a bearded man hovering behind David at the bar. He wore strange earrings that stretched his earlobes so much, a wrench could fit through the hole.
“Trust me. With my system you’ll be so prosperous you’ll look back and laugh for ever questioning me.” David raised his glass to the man. “You don’t want to miss out on this auction, my friend. This one’s a game changer.”
“Let me buy you a drink and you can tell me more about how it works.” The man waved a sun-darkened hand toward the bar. He was missing his ring finger.
“I can’t give away my secrets before they’re sold, but I will take you up on that drink,” David said.
Esther shook her head as David continued to extol the virtues of her energy system to the growing crowd. She’d be glad when this was all over.
A tall, copper-haired woman stood near the man with the holes in his ears. Esther did not like the way she was looking at David. There was something predatory about her, like a lionfish. The woman leaned in to ask him a question, letting her hand play along the soft fabric of David’s sweater. She stayed close, listening raptly to David’s every word. Was he smiling at her more than his other listeners?
Esther realized she was trying to stand a little taller. David still hadn’t acknowledged her, but he was certainly keeping everyone’s interest. Especially that woman’s. Abruptly, Esther turned and walked away. David didn’t need her help. She didn’t feel like watching people fawn over him, and she would not compete for his attention. They had been through a lot together. He had no right to ignore her.
The sight of David’s sales pitch had soured her enthusiasm for the Amsterdam Bazaar—and that made her even more annoyed. She wanted to believe that she had shared something special with David, that the risk she had taken in pulling him close that night on the Galaxy Mist had been worth it. For all she knew, he was the New Pacific’s biggest player. On the other hand, she knew he could be gentle, that he could speak with a different voice than his smooth salesman’s tone. And she remembered the look of utter determination on his face when he sailed the Lucinda away from the Galaxy in search of the Catalina, despite the bullet wound spreading smears of red down his arm.
Esther shifted the metal coil up to her shoulder and ducked down an aisle lined with hagglers and hanging bits of flotsam and jetsam. She turned a corner around a stack of cracked rubber tires and bumped into a young man wearing a faded “Catalina: Your Island at Sea” T-shirt.
“Neal! How’s it going?”
“Okay,” he said. He had a hunk of plastic tucked under his arm with wires trailing out of it. “What’s up with the separator stuff?”
“Hawthorne is hawking it as we speak,” Esther said. “Want to head to the canteen with me?”
“Sorry,” Neal said. “I still have a few people to see. Catch you later.”
Esther sighed as he wandered back into the crowd, his shoulders hunched and his step missing a spring. She hoped his moping phase would be over soon. It would probably be easier on him if Marianna weren’t the one spearheading the effort to restore worldwide communication via the satellite network, spreading her pretty voice across the airwaves.
Needing a better vantage point, Esther climbed partway up the stack of cracked tires and surveyed the crowd. There was still no sign of Cally and Dax. She couldn’t see Zoe and her friends either. She was surprised to feel a bit lonely despite the crowds. She wished she had gone with her friends after all. For a moment she almost went back to the Rusty Nail to join David. He stood out even from this distance. Something about his white-blond hair made him look cleaner and newer than everyone around him. Salt, why did she just want to stare at him sometimes?
“Hey! Get down from there!” shouted the tire shopkeeper. His outfit looked like it was mostly constructed from tire rubber too.
“Sorry.” Esther jumped off the stack.
“If yer buying, you can climb all you want,” said the tire man. “Yeh can build a whole raft out of these babies.”
“No, thanks,” Esther said.
Tires were surprisingly easy to come by, at least the ones that still floated well enough to be useful. But she was distracted by the smells wafting from a far corner of the bazaar. She dove into the crowd again and made her way toward the canteen.
I’ll talk to David tonight, she thought. We can’t keep ignoring each other, and it’s time we clarified a thing or two.
The canteen emitted the same fishy odors that filled the Catalina’s own galley, but it also smelled of unusual oils and delectable spices. The Amsterdam kitchens were famous for recreating the flavors of a bygone era through careful preservation of their spice supply. It was this, almost as much as the trade opportunities, which brought people back to it so regularly.
At the first food stall, a man with a large hooked nose sold fish balls dipped in a pungent curry. Esther traded a spare gear for the meal. She had no qualms about giving away a bit of metal in exchange for the wondrous burning sensation on her tongue. She had hoped to share this experience with Cally. That’s what she got for running off into the bazaar with Dax.
Esther leaned against the food stall and tuned in to the big-nosed curry vendor’s conversation with the next customer, a man with leathery skin and ears like razor clams.
“The Harvesters have their work cut out for them with Calderon. Don’t I know it.”
“They gonna come to a fight?” asked the leather-faced customer.
“Not likely.” The curry vendor continued to stir the vat of sauce as he spoke. “Them’s cowards, if you ask me. No way Calderon will want to deal with the Harvesters head-on.”
“Don’t know who made them the arbiters o’ justice anyway.”
“Better’n nothing. No one else can do anything about the sneaky bastards. They come at you from all sides and melt away into the waves. Colin thinks they have a sub, but I say that’s whaleshit. Anyway, the Harvesters have got an aggressive recruiting campaign going. They want a fair fight, but them Calderons is anything but fair.”
“You think they’re pirates? That’s what Hugh was saying last time he was in port.”
“No skin off my nose if they are. Both of them buy my fish balls and leave the Amsterdam alone. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Ain’t that the truth!” The man raised his half-eaten fish ball in the air.
Esther finished her snack and left the vendor to his conversation. She wondered about all this piracy talk. Rachel had mentioned the Calderon Group and the Harvesters too. The Amsterdam was a good place to have rumors fleshed out, but it was hard to tell what was true and what was exaggerated.
She bought a small bag of chocolate-covered squid from another stall. Anything made with chocolate was exceptionally expensive; cocoa was rarer than oil in their world. She would save them for Cally and Dax in case they didn’t find their way to this part of the bazaar. She hoped they hadn’t gotten themselves into trouble. She felt responsible for Cally, mostly because her mother would string Esther up by a length of durable denim if anything happened to her daughter. After a moment’s hesitation, Esther bought a second bag for David.
She explored the familiar corners of the bazaar alone that afternoon. The Amsterdam had been her primary source of contact with other survivors through much of her life. She tried reliving those wide-eyed days, but some of the magic was missing and she wasn’t sure why.
Eventually, Esther pushed her way back out of the short corridor to the outer platform. The sun sat low on the horizon, and the sea was restless. Back at the Catalina, a sulky Gracie Cordova had
replaced Judith at the shell station. Whenever someone came aboard, she moved their shell from one bucket to another with a petulant clink. She informed Esther that Cally and Dax had not yet returned. Esther settled down cross-legged beside the gangway to wait for them.
Chapter 9—Night
Esther hung out by the platform as the sun went down and the other Catalinans made their way back to the ship. They chattered animatedly, their arms filled with purchases: colorful scarves, books, cigarettes and soap, teacups marred with shatter patterns. Judith’s arms were empty. Apparently, she had taken David’s advice to delay any major transactions. Dirk stuck doggedly to her heels.
Zoe and the others returned promptly at sunset, when the last rays were setting the oil rig alight. Esther promised to meet them in the Mermaid Lounge after Cally was safely on board. She kept an eye on the gangway to the Lucinda as she waited. David was also late returning home.
Eventually, Gracie got fed up.
“You can keep track of the stragglers if you’re going to hang out here anyway,” she said. “It’s bad enough I only got a short visit to the bazaar today. I’m not going to sit here in the cold.”
She tossed her thick hair and flounced up the gangway into the ship.
It grew colder. Esther wrapped her arms tighter around her legs. The sounds drifting from the bazaar had gone from bustling to raucous. The sky changed from feather gray to charcoal.
Esther was fiddling with the rubber rim of her storm goggles when she heard a series of giggles, one high, one low. Cally and Dax must have returned at last. Two figures came closer to her and stopped to smooch in the dim lighting. Esther was chilled and stiff by this time, and she wished they’d get it over with. She was just about to interrupt their tryst so she could go back inside when her father and Penelope Newton came into view. Penelope let out another giggle like a schoolgirl. Esther scowled at them as they crossed over to the ship, but her father didn’t even notice her sitting in the shadows. Why can’t they go back to having a secret romance?
And still Esther waited. She was starting to worry. She didn’t think Cally would venture to the darker parts of the Amsterdam, the corners around the old drill, where some of the more illicit activities took place. She didn’t know much about them, but Frank had always warned her to keep to the bazaar.
Lights had started to frost the oil rig with patches of illumination when David appeared. He staggered across the dock to the Lucinda, steps weaving. Esther stood as soon as she saw him, the sweets she had bought clutched in her hand. Was he injured? Then she realized he was leaning against a slim figure with flowing copper hair. She tried to make out their conversation, but the hiss of the water against the ships swallowed their voices. From what she could tell, their words were friendly as they tottered down the gangway and disappeared onto the Lucinda’s deck.
Esther paced in front of the Catalina’s own gangway, trying to sort through the tangled ropes of her feelings. David was bringing a woman back to his ship. So that was it. He was someone who picked up strangers and took them to his cabin, nothing more.
Esther thought of her own visit to David’s cabin on the Galaxy Mist, her belief that they’d shared a connection. Stupid. The ships creaked, metal against metal. A handful of lights burned through portholes. Lucinda drifted up and down in the restless water. Esther shook her head at the shifting gangway, pushing away the knot in her windpipe. If that was how it was, then fine. At least she knew the truth. She opened the bag of chocolate-covered squid and popped the first chewy sweet into her mouth.
It was pitch black by the time Cally and Dax finally appeared, and Esther was in a foul mood. She was halfway through the second bag of sweets. The teenage couple ran hand in hand toward the ship.
“Esther! We lost you!” Cally said, her face flushed pink like a sunset cloud. “You won’t believe the day we’ve had!”
“I don’t give a rusty damn about the day you’ve had,” Esther snapped.
“But—”
“Don’t even start. You were supposed to stick with me and take notes. It’s your duty—salt, Cally, you’re making me sound like Judith.”
“We have something to tell—”
“Get on board and get to bed. We have work to do tomorrow, and you’d better be up bright and early. And Dax, you should stay on the Catalina tomorrow and make yourself useful.”
“But Esther, it’s about David—” Dax began.
“I don’t want to hear it. Onto the ship. Now.”
Cally and Dax hung their heads as they crossed the gangway and headed toward the main doors. Esther felt a little sorry for snapping, but it was cold, and David’s guest hadn’t left yet.
Cally and Dax were the last Catalinans to return, so Esther hauled the bucket of shells back onto the ship. Instead of going to her cabin, she stomped up to the Mermaid Lounge and joined Zoe, Anita, and Toni at their booth.
Zoe and Toni talked over each other about their encounters from the day.
“We met the most interesting sea captain!”
“There’s a crew that’s talking about doing salvage runs on land. Says he knows a safe harbor.”
“The guy might be a charlatan.”
“But think of the adventure!”
They rehashed the rumors they’d heard that day and made plans for who to talk to next. Esther’s responses were noncommittal. She’d tell them about the Metal Harvesters some other time. She couldn’t shake the image of the tall woman leaning against David’s arm at the Rusty Nail and the way his steps had weaved as he led her up the gangway to his ship.
Esther felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and it made her furious. She felt angry, hurt. She swallowed the last of the chocolate-covered squid and curled up in the corner of the booth. She let her friends’ chatter lull her to sleep.
After midnight an alarm sounded. The Mermaid Lounge was dark and at first only a groggy rustle followed the piercing of the siren. Then a red light swept across the floor from the windows.
“Esther, wake up. Something’s happening.” Zoe crouched by Esther’s side, prodding her with the handle of her pocketknife.
“What? Is that our horn?” Esther rubbed her eyes as the red light swept over them again, flashing like lightning in Zoe’s hair.
“It’s coming from the Amsterdam. I think there’s a fire,” Zoe said.
Esther fought through her fatigue, remembering with dread the last time she was awakened by the smell of smoke. A fire on an oil rig was nothing to shrug off, even though the drill was long silent. Esther pulled on her boots and joined Zoe, Anita, and Toni at the window.
“What’s going on out there?” Toni said.
From their angle, they only had a partial view of the oil platform. Their window was on the starboard side, facing the open sea. Small, dark boats skipped past in the darkness. The shadows thrown onto the waves by the red searchlight made them look larger than they actually were. The siren wailed.
“I think people are fighting over there.” Zoe pressed her face against the thick glass, trying to see sideways to the hulking platform.
“Isn’t this neutral territory?” Toni asked.
“What do we do, Esther?” Anita whispered.
The other two turned and looked at her too.
“We need information,” Esther said. “We can’t get mixed up in someone else’s fight.”
She remembered what the big-nosed food vendor had said about the Calderon Group and the Metal Harvesters. They shouldn’t get involved with anything between those two.
“Let’s go to the bridge,” Zoe said.
They pulled on their jackets and dashed out of the Lounge. That’s when their own horn blasted: two calls, as if they were facing a riding storm. That would summon only the people who were on duty that night. Hopefully the others would remain safely in their cabins.
Judith, Dirk, and Neal were already in the bridge when they arrived.
“What’s going on?” Esther asked.
“Looks like some sort o
f skirmish,” Neal answered, pulling back one ear of his headphones. He wore sweatpants and no shoes.
“Any danger to us?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to raise someone over on the Lucinda. They might have a better view.”
Esther felt a sliver of ice in her chest. “Lucinda isn’t answering?”
“I’m sure Hawthorne’s fine,” Neal said. “Don’t worry.”
“We have other people on the Lucinda besides Hawthorne,” Esther said. “What does the Amsterdam say?”
“They keep telling us to stand by.”
Dirk and Judith were engaged in a fierce, quiet argument. They hadn’t acknowledged the newcomers. Dirk’s shoulders tensed, and he glowered alternately at Judith and the Amsterdam.
Outside the forward windows, the rigging looked strangely still in the red of the searchlights, despite the alarm bells ringing around the Coalition.
Then a blinding fireball ignited atop the oil rig. The sky erupted in an explosion, and a rumble like thunder rattled the heavy windows of the bridge. The Catalina rolled in the shock wave, knocking them off balance.
“Salt! What was that?”
Esther shook her head to clear the fuzzy ring of light from her eyes. A fire burned in one quarter of the platform. Pops rattled through the night.
“News coming in from the Amsterdam,” Neal said. He listened to the headphones for a second. “We’re under attack! The rig rep says to send crew to the deck to ward off boarders.”
“Dirk, get the crew armed,” Judith said, pulling herself up. “Make sure everyone else stays below.”
“We can run to the cabins to warn any stragglers,” Toni said.
She and Anita darted for the door.
“We should get down to the deck, Esther!” Zoe said, tugging on her arm. “We can fight.”
But there was a commotion outside the port window. Esther rushed to the far side of the bridge. Beyond the Catalina’s foredeck, people darted back and forth across the Amsterdam platform. Esther pressed her hands against the glass, focusing on the patrol ship bobbing beside the Catalina. Dark figures were boarding the Lucinda. They scuttled across her narrow prow like crabs. Where were their defenders?
