I could see the hands on the trader ship's deck running to take cover, but it was too late. Smash! Smash! Smash! The first ice ball slammed into the mast up near the crow's nest, and the second and third hit just a little lower than the first. I had a moment to be surprised—Dizzers usually try to take out the hull first—then everything started to make sense.
Each ice ball exploded upon impact, as was the case due to its makeup.
But Hook's ice balls didn't just contain ice. I saw metal flash and glint in the sunlight as the ice balls exploded, and then hundreds of pieces of jagged shrapnel rained down upon the unsuspecting crew. The shrieks and screams of the injured and dying were instant and horrific—there was no escaping Hook's hooks. My mouth dropped open in shock, and I think our entire crew stopped moving and just watched the scene unfold. No one had ever thought to make an ice ball with anything other than ice before. No one realized what sort of massacre would result from it.
I turned back to look at Hook to see how she was taking in the carnage, but she and Jonesy were already loading up the next set of ice balls. Apparently, he'd gotten over his fear of his suspected ghost. I turned back to watch the bow for 'bergs after I heard Cap'n screaming at me, then watched as Mr. Jakes tacked to give Hook another clear shot, which she took without hesitation again. The shrapnel kicked up as much blood as before, but there were not as many screams. I got up from my chair and wandered down to the main deck. There was no need for an Archer today.
Mr. Jakes tacked us back and forth in a wide sweep twice more, falling off at the end of each pass to allow Hook time to take a shot. By the time she launched her last set, there was no more screaming and the masts were completely destroyed. Blood ran off the sides between the rails and stained the sea a deep red.
Cap'n gave a hoarse order to Mr. Jakes to bring us alongside the trader ship so we could collect our spoils. The hands were oddly silent as they trimmed the sails to bring us in to the trader ship. I think we were all a bit stunned at what we'd just seen.
I stumbled down the stairs to the main deck and crossed over to the stern deck. Hook was standing there alone, looking out at the conquered barquentine. The hood of her furs had blown back and her pale hair whipped around madly in the wind. Her glacier eyes were glowing and even her translucent skin was a bit flushed. She didn't look at me as I approached. "How the hell did you get off the Nightwing?" I blurted. My voice sounded like I'd been drinking whiskey for a week.
She turned to me, and for the first time I saw her as she truly was, without my coldblooded disbelief to blind me. The glinting eyes, the perfect, impassive face, the haunting voice, and the longing I felt when I heard it . . .
"Siren," I whispered. The word felt blasphemous on my coldblood lips.
Hook laughed, and I winced.
"So you do dream," she said.
I nodded.
"You coldbloods are so stubborn and practical. Not an ounce of imagination amongst you, except for gullible eejits like your friend Jonesy there. It makes my work so much harder. You must be more of a warmblood than you realized, Shrike, because I couldn't affect the others at all."
There was one ice ball left in the catapult, and Hook casually flicked the first lever. I tried to pull away, to shout to one of the mates, but I was mesmerized by her voice.
"You coldbloods don't tell stories like the warmbloods do. You don't believe in mermaids or selkies or sirens anymore. No one seeks us out. No one throws a portion of the spoils over the rails for Kraken and Davy Jones. There's no pretty young pirates coming to listen to my voice and see the dreams I spin for them, even as I'm draining their life away. We need your blood and belief to survive, and we're not getting it. Your captain was the last one to ever seek me out, many years ago, and look what I did to her. She's gone mad trying to get away from me. I'd sing to her across the waves every night while we were apart, just so she couldn't ever forget me. And she hasn't. After all these years of her denying me, I found my way back to her. She's completely bewitched again. And look at all the blood she's brought me," she said, pointing to the main deck where my crewmates worked. Hook leaned in toward me. "You coldbloods stopped coming to us. So now we're coming to you." She smiled, and the smile was as mirthless as it always was.
Then she pulled the second lever. I closed my eyes and waited for the hooks to fall.
A Perfect Life
Elaine Burnes
"Ahoy, me hearties!" Tate cried out. She swung her cutlass high, the blade sparkling in the sunlight, and jumped onto the bridge of her beloved ship, the Sea Devil. Striding across the deck, she shouted orders to her crew. Wind whipped through her auburn curls. She inhaled the briny sea air. It was a glorious day to set sail. "Arrrgh!" she growled for effect. "Pirates don't talk like that," a small voice called out.
Tate stopped, lowered her arm, and searched for the source. A girl she didn't know peered up at her.
"That's a rock you're standing on," the girl said, "and this is a desert, not an ocean." She scuffed the hard-packed sand with her bare foot.
Tate regarded her coolly. A layer of dust coated the girl's dark hair, dulling it to an indistinct hue. Her clothes were mismatched—the pullover shirt too big and the trousers too short. She clutched the hem of her shirt.
"It's just a game," Tate said, slipping her cutlass, a curved stick she'd stripped of bark, into an imaginary sheath in the rope that served as her belt. "Well, you can't be a pirate. You're a girl."
The other children stopped their pretend chores to listen to the exchange. Someone snickered. Tate scowled. "What planet are you from?" The girl looked down at her feet. "Earth."
"Oh, well, that explains it." Tate jumped down and stuck out her hand.
"I'm Tate."
The girl shook hands tentatively. "Emily."
Since they were the same height, Tate guessed they were close in age. "How long you been on this godforsaken rock, Em?"
"It's Emily, and about a week. I think."
"Okay, Emily. Well, you'll get used to it. Don't worry."
Emily started to cry. The other kids groaned and moved away. Tate threw them a disgusted look. "Oh, like none of you cried your first week here." She put her arm around Emily's shoulders and guided her to the rock. They sat as Emily shook with silent sobs. Tate waited for them to lessen, then spoke softly. "Do you know what happened?"
Emily shook her head. New tears streamed down her cheeks.
"You alone?" Emily nodded.
Tate hugged her. "Not anymore, you're not." She waited for the crying to ease. "I'm from Luce."
Emily wiped her cheeks. "I've never heard of it."
"You probably call it something else. We called your planet Zeek."
Emily looked at her. A tiny smile formed then vanished. "Zeek? That's a funny name."
Tate gave her a squeeze. "I'm hungry. Want to get something to eat?"
Emily nodded, so Tate took her hand and led the frightened girl across the dusty field toward a cluster of crude, wood-framed tents of worn cloth. A hot wind sent twists of sand scurrying over the ground, scattering dry leaves from the skeletal trees. Rocky hills rose at the edge of the settlement, and Tate picked their way among the boulders and entered a cave. Cool air soothed her parched skin and burned eyes. They approached an older girl sorting crates and jugs. "Bella," Tate said.
The girl turned and smiled. Blue eyes glinted against the bland background of her dust-covered skin, hair, and clothing. "In need?" Tate nodded.
"These just arrived," Bella said. She reached into a crate and held up two large red balls.
"What is it?" Emily asked, taking one.
"I don't know," Bella said. "But it tastes good and quenches your thirst for hours. Try it."
Emily eyed it suspiciously. Tate took the other one and bit into it. A pink liquid squirted out and she slurped and chewed on the fibrous flesh. She nudged Emily in encouragement. "It's tart at first, but then sweet." Emily took a bite. She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them wide and devoure
d the fruit without stopping. She wiped her mouth and licked her fingers. "That was good!" She looked at the piles of food. "What is all this?"
"She's new," Tate said to Bella, then introduced them.
Bella nodded. "Always the same question." She told Emily how the food materialized periodically. "We've come close to starving on occasion, but it always shows up, eventually."
Emily looked about to ask another question, but Bella continued, "No, we don't know where it comes from or how. It only appears in this cave, though, so we assume it's a space portal. That our families are sending it."
Tate reached for Emily's arm. "Look," she said, as she fingered a small scar on the inside of Emily's forearm then pointed to a similar scar on her own.
"I've got one, too."
"We all do," Bella said, holding out her arm.
"These might have something to do with what happened to us," Tate said.
Emily's expression darkened, and her eyes welled.
"I know," Tate said, patting her back. "Overload. It happens to everyone in the beginning."
Tate took a jug of water and a bag of food from Bella, then led Emily out of the cave to her own tent. She spread the food out and watched as Emily dug in, alternating between eating and crying. When she could speak, Emily said she had been hiding in the hills until her hunger drove her down to the settlement.
"Someone should have met you," Tate said. "So many have been coming at once, though, we can't keep up."
"I stole food and these clothes," Emily said, her voice filled with guilt.
"It's okay." Tate smiled. "We all arrive naked. No one minds. And we share everything. You should slow down, though. You'll get sick if you eat too fast."
"What is this place?" Emily asked between bites.
Tate shrugged. "What were you told?"
"My parents said I'd be safe here. That they'd come for me. Do you know if they have?"
Tate shook her head. Many children arrived with the same story, and no one came for them. She didn't mention that after seven years, she no longer waited for her own parents.
"When it happened, I thought I was dying," Emily said.
Tate nodded. "That's what a lot of kids say. Was there a light and a loud noise?"
"Yes," Emily said. "I felt so strange, like I was breaking apart. Then I woke up . . . here." She looked around the tent. "This is very different from Earth. Is it like your home?"
Tate shrugged and picked at the mat. This was the only home she remembered. "A few years ago, the oldest ones started disappearing." She didn't tell Emily how unnerving that was, seeing someone vanish in a flash of light, their clothes and anything they'd been holding left behind, dropping to the ground as though released by an invisible hand. "We finally pieced together that it happens to those who are in their twentieth year. Maybe we go back home then."
"Twenty!" Emily said, her eyes wide. "But that's ten years from now." Tate grinned. "Hey, we're the same age."
Emily turned the piece of bread in her hand then set it down. She didn't say anything or move. Tate finished her own meal then cleaned up, sneaking glances at Emily now and then to see if she was crying. Only her brows moved, knitting together then relaxing, as though she were trying to digest this new world the way her stomach would these strange new foods.
When Tate finished, she stood over Emily and held out her hand. "Come on, I'll show you around."
Emily looked up at her and smiled. Tate felt a jolt within her that she couldn't explain, but she knew then they would be friends.
As the day's light faded to darkness, they returned to the tent. Emily stifled a yawn while Tate unrolled her sleeping mat. Emily looked toward the opening. "I should leave."
Tate shook her head and patted the mat. "There is nowhere you need to go. You can stay here. Tomorrow we can build you a shelter of your own, if you like." She lay down. Emily hesitated then lay beside her.
As Tate drifted toward sleep, Emily cried out and began to sob. Her grief tore at Tate's heart, and she wrapped her arms around the lonely girl, who clung to her, crying until she wore herself to sleep. When all she heard was quiet breathing, Tate wiped Emily's cheeks in wonder. Until now, she had never felt compelled to befriend a new arrival. Each was a painful reminder, not of what she'd lost, but of what she no longer remembered losing. They did not build a shelter for Emily the next day, or ever. Instead, Emily joined Tate in her morning pirate games with the other young children. When the heat of the day became too much for games, everyone gathered in caves, where the older children taught the younger ones what they had learned in school before school became something they missed as much as their families. At night, Tate held Emily as she cried herself to sleep, knowing the things they did during the day kept her grief at bay only so long. And each night Tate curled around her friend, filled with a newfound purpose. "I'll protect you," she whispered.
Tate sat up soaked in sweat with only the last thread of her dream caught in memory—She'd lost sight of Emily amid a blinding flash, a thunderous roar, and the sensation of her body disintegrating.
It had been five years since that dream had been a reality, since she'd left the desert planet. Why dream about it now? This was the third night in a row, and all she ever remembered was the ending. She looked around to anchor herself in the present. The lights slowly brightened, mimicking dawn in the windowless cabin. She could just make out the blank gray walls, a sink in the corner, and clothes strewn across the floor. Overhead, the ventilation system hummed and behind the wall, pipes pinged. She felt the thin mattress under her and clutched the sheet that pooled across her legs. "Emily?" she called softly.
She felt a hand on her back. Cool fingers spread across her damp skin. "You have that dream again, T?"
Tate rubbed her hands through her hair. "Yeah." She turned to Emily and smiled, reassured. They'd made love last night and both were still naked. She leaned down to touch Emily's face, then slid her hand over her full breasts and across her warm stomach. She moved to kiss her, pausing to inhale her scent. Earthy and organic, refreshing compared to the stale, manufactured air around them. The intercom crackled. "Bridge to Captain Hart."
Tate sighed and lay her head on Emily's chest, listening to her heartbeat quicken. Emily reached for the comm button on the wall. "Hart. What've you got?"
"Space train in two hours. Looks like a mother lode."
Emily rubbed Tate's back. "Let's make ready. Hart out." She gave Tate a playful slap. "Time to go to work, Mate." Tate groaned and rolled off her. Emily kissed her, then jumped down from the bunk and hummed as she washed up. She ran wet fingers through her short-cropped dark hair, then shook it out, leaving shining spikes.
Tate smiled, watching Emily pull on a one-piece flight suit over her slim, but muscular, frame. She didn't mind waiting her turn with this view. They'd removed the bottom bunk but still their quarters were cramped. Emily had refused the larger captain's quarters, instead filling it with ammunition. It was one reason her crew adored her. The first mate's cabin, Tate's, stored extra medical supplies.
Emily stood on tiptoes for another kiss before leaving. "See you on the bridge."
Tate hopped down and wet a rag to wash with. She ran the cool cloth around her neck and down her arms. Water was scarce in space. Ironic, how she'd left one desert for another.
Tate had been too young to remember arriving on the desert planet, but she sure remembered leaving—when she and Emily were twenty, just like the others. They had already been naked when she'd lost sight of Emily amid that blinding flash, thunderous roar, and the sensation of her body disintegrating. They materialized in a forest, entwined around each other on a bed of moss, breathless. They blinked and looked at each other.
"Hell of an orgasm, Tate," Emily said. They broke into giggles.
Voices echoed through the woods. Tate grabbed Emily's hand and pulled her behind thick ferns.
"You can come out," a female voice called.
Dense shrubs covered in green needles an
d leaves screened the view. Tate
had never seen anything like this. Water gurgled behind them and the ground felt damp and cold on her bare feet. The voices grew louder. They ducked low, peering through the ferns. Several humans jogged along a path. Tate saw two of their friends from the settlement, naked like them. The clothed humans carried no weapons. "Two are missing," a man said. "Here they are," said a woman from behind them.
Tate recognized the voice. "Bella!" She turned and ran into the arms of her old friend.
Bella wouldn't answer any of Tate's questions until the group had been led to a pool of cool water and years of dust soaked out of their pores. Afterward, they all put on soft, clean clothes. Then, sitting with the others in a clearing, Tate huddled next to Emily and waited for Bella to speak.
"Welcome, my friends," Bella began. She smiled, and her blue eyes still held their glint, but Tate saw something else in her expression. A fatigue, maybe sadness. "I know you are wondering what happened, as did I," Bella said. She paced before them and spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. "Where you came from was a planet of refuge, a safe haven, chosen by our families fleeing a vast galactic war between groups known as the Grans Confederation and the Oshen Alliance. Who these people are and why they fight is unclear, and is beside the point."
Bella stopped pacing and stared at the ground, as though composing her thoughts. Tate sensed a rise in tension, and her joy at being reunited with her friend who had vanished three years earlier was turning to dread.
"To supply the armies with food, weapons, and warriors, a syndicate of privateers strip whole solar systems of people, animals, water, minerals, and forests," Bella said, her voice filled with disgust. "Children and adults are enslaved to work the supply lines or sold to fight for whichever side offers the highest price."
As Bella spoke, the nervous fidgeting and murmurs of Tate's companions settled into a stunned silence.
"The idea to flee, to hide the children on a desolate planet that had already been stripped bare, began with a small resistance movement and was meant to be temporary. Each of us has a chip implanted under our skin that allows our transportation through space. As each community flees their homes, they pass the planet and send their children to the surface."
Skulls & Crossbones Page 28
