Sea Wolf (A Compass Rose Novel, 2)

by Anna Burke

  “Stop.” Miranda’s order rang out, silencing hallway traffic. I couldn’t see much past her broad shoulders, which radiated the kind of rage that should have had her crew cowering before her, but I could see enough. Sailors came to attention grudgingly, instead of with their usual good-natured alacrity. Most seemed confused about the cause. That made their reaction somehow worse.

  The cause.

  Slow to react even to threats apparently, my brain refocused on the knife. Someone had thrown a knife at me. Hallé stepped away with a hand to her belly. I didn’t blame her. The knife could have easily hit her when it ricocheted.

  “Who?” Miranda said the word in a low, dangerous voice. With one hand on the wall for balance, I leaned over to pick up the blade. Standard fleet issue several years back. Grip worn from sweat. Blade thin from sharpening and use. The fact it was fleet meant nothing; most likely it had either been traded or stolen from one of the Archipelago fleets. The fact it had almost lodged itself between my eyes was far more important. My fingers closed around the handle. One of my fellow crewmates had tried to take my life with this knife.

  I reached for north. The currents whispered past the edge of hearing, but they were only so much noise. I still couldn’t touch them.

  “I said, who.”

  “Captain—” Hallé broke off at the look Miranda shot her.

  “I will walk each and every one of you if someone doesn’t answer me. Right. Now.”

  Listening to her voice, I didn’t doubt it.

  “Me.” A thin man with thick, short brown hair stepped forward and into my line of sight. He didn’t glance at me, and his expression as he faced his captain was grim but determined. He knew he was going to die. “Captain, this woman—”

  She opened his throat. I didn’t even see her pull the knife. The sailor grabbed at his neck in surprise, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened, either. Blood welled between his knuckles.

  “You know the code. A life for a life. We’re done here.”

  The sailor crumpled to the floor. Miranda stepped over his body and pulled me after her, tucking me under her arm and lifting me bodily over the still-twitching corpse of a man whose palm, like mine, bore her mark. I moved because her grip on my body rendered anything else impossible.

  Kraken met us at the door to our quarters, Orca at his heels. Word traveled fast.

  “Nobody comes in,” she said to Orca. She said nothing to me, but the look in her eyes was as full of anguish and rage as I had ever seen. Blood misted her cheeks and stained her shirt in a thick spatter.

  “I’ll protect her,” said Orca.

  The door shut on us. Orca locked it, pausing to rest her forehead against the frame before confronting me. I expected her to shout at me, to ask what I’d done this time. I wasn’t rightly sure I knew. My broken brain replayed the scene again and again. The man. His knife. The blood. It couldn’t have happened. Could it?

  “Are you hurt?”

  “What?”

  “Are you hurt.”

  “Oh. No.” Shaking, yes, and out of air, but unharmed. I still clutched the knife. Orca pried it from my fingers, which creaked. She helped me sit. I rested my pounding head on my knees and wondered how much of the nausea was from my injury, and how much was from the vision, burned into my brain, of Miranda exacting justice. It was the second time in my life someone I loved had killed a man for attempting to knife me. You’d think word would have spread it wasn’t good for your health, I thought, as a giggle tried to pry my jaws open.

  I pressed the scab on my forehead to cut off the hysteria. Pain steadied me.

  “What happened?” Orca asked.

  “I’m not really sure.” I relayed the events in short, clipped words, not daring to give in to even the slightest bit of emotion.

  “She shouldn’t have killed him,” I said when I finished.

  “Killing him’s the only smart thing she’s done in weeks.”

  “A life for a life. I’m still alive. He missed.”

  “You got lucky.”

  “But why would he want me dead?”

  “Miranda made them promises. Some she’s kept, but you . . .she’s a fucking idiot over you. No offense.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Before you, she fucked around, but she never put anyone above anyone else. Being her lover didn’t get you anything or make you special.”

  “She doesn’t treat me like I’m special.”

  “She didn’t leave your side for days, Rose. Days Ching used to her advantage. The ship was barely floating. We needed a captain. And Miranda was in here, with you.”

  Orca didn’t sound jealous or even bitter, just exhausted. As first mate, the brunt of Miranda’s responsibilities, as well as Miranda’s messes, would have fallen on her.

  “It’s not even your fault.” That was more like Orca—annoyed she couldn’t blame me. “You were asleep for most of it.”

  “Do you . . . do you know what his name was?” I nodded toward the knife.

  “Luca, I think.”

  Luca. Dev. Jeanine. Annie. Most of Ching’s sailors. My predecessor, Andre. The SHARK who’d tried to kill me to save Harper; Harper had killed him in turn. When would it end?

  “What is Miranda going to do now?”

  “Dunno. Kill Ching if she’s smart.”

  “She won’t do that.”

  “Nope.” Orca kicked her legs up on the arm of the couch across from me and sprawled across it, balancing the knife on her fingertip.

  “Shit.” I stood fast enough to lose my balance, but caught myself before I toppled. “Harper. They could go after her, too.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “But she’s—”

  “She’s Comita’s daughter and a valuable hostage. Plus, they’d have to get past engineering, and those assholes love her. You think I’d be sitting here otherwise?”

  “Right.” Only Miranda and a handful of other sailors loved me. I’d hoped with time that would change. That seemed unlikely, now. “I’ve messed everything up.”

  “You should be used to that by now. Ugh, gross, don’t start crying.” Orca’s eyes widened as mine welled. “This is bigger than you. It isn’t about you. Look.”

  I couldn’t look at anything past the sheen of tears blinding my eyes, but I suspected she was speaking metaphorically.

  “They elected Miranda because she had Archipelago intel, and they admired her guts. Under Ching, she was vicious in a raid, and they thought she’d get us rich. We were going to retake Gemini and open trade with the rest of the ocean—”

  “Wait, what?”

  “That was the plan, for a while anyway. But it didn’t happen. Ching wanted more than Gemini. She wanted to burn the whole thing. That was too much for Miranda, and they fought about it constantly.”

  “Right.” I was following, despite the pain the effort caused me.

  “But all the crew can see is that she keeps putting off delivering them the safety they wanted for their children. We’re still living on Archipelago sufferance. Chasing the sea wolves is Miranda’s thing, not theirs.”

  “Are they going to mutiny?”

  “Maybe.” She seemed so blasé about it. I wiped my eyes and sat back down, staring at her. Blasé, or just past caring?

  “What happens then?”

  “You definitely die. I probably die. Miranda probably dies, too.”

  “They’d kill her?”

  “You think we’d go down without a fight?”

  “The code, though. If they ask for a vote of no confidence—”

  “Ching isn’t interested in a bloodless coup. There will be blood, Rose. There always fucking is.” She closed her eyes. The shells and bones in her hair fanned across the couch.

  “What do we do about it?”

  Orca tapped the blade of the knife against her thigh. “You need to get better, like yesterday. She has to stop worrying about you and start focusing on the ship. And we need a target that’s more interesting
than the sea wolves. Something richer. Then we can go chasing whales.”

  “Like the Archipelago?” I said, because there was no other target rich enough to warrant the risk.

  “Exactly. What’s that station on the southern tip?”

  “Crux.”

  “Whatever. They’re close enough for us to hit a supply ship.”

  “Comita—”

  “Isn’t here. Ching is.”

  I sank back into the chair and thought of blood congealing on the floor and Luca—whose name I hadn’t known until a moment ago—cooling somewhere while his family said whatever words they needed to say before he was sent to the compost.

  “Orca,” I said with my eyes closed.

  “Still here.”

  “We need a backup plan.”

  “Way ahead of you. Kraken’s been stocking one of the smaller ships in the bay for a few days now.”

  “I thought you said you’d put up a fight.”

  “I didn’t say that was the only option I was considering.”

  “Miranda won’t leave her ship.”

  “Probably not.” The pause extended so long I thought she’d finished speaking. “But she might, for you.”

  ••••

  Miranda returned several hours later, Kraken at her heels and more blood on her face. It wasn’t hers. She paced the room while Orca, Kraken, and I waited for her to clear her thoughts enough to speak.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” she said to Orca.

  More pacing. Orca didn’t reply.

  “But it’s done. She’s here. We’re here.”

  “Walk her,” Orca suggested.

  “That will make things worse,” said Kraken.

  “How could it get worse?” Orca leaned forward. “They don’t have anyone to put up besides Ching. If she’s dead—”

  “We’re not walking her,” Miranda said.

  “Mere—”

  “There are lines.”

  “She crossed one today by having one of her people try to off our navigator,” said Orca.

  “She didn’t order that. It isn’t her way.”

  “Right. They do it without her needing to ask. How is that better?”

  “Because they’re right.” Miranda’s shout surprised us all into jumping backward. “Tell me, honestly, that I deserve to captain this ship.”

  “Miranda—” Orca began, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to say anything else.

  “In the last month, how many dead?”

  “You couldn’t control that,” said Kraken.

  “If I’d just sided with Ching, the crew would be fat as cats and living on the Archipelago right now, and they know it.”

  “There’s no guarantee of that, either,” said Kraken.

  “Pretty good odds, though.”

  “So maybe you’ve fucked up a few times,” said Orca. “Fix it.”

  “Yes. Brilliant. I’ll just ‘fix it.’”

  “Or you could keep shouting about it. Bet that will help.”

  “First mate—”

  “You can’t say ‘Oh, poor me, I’m the worst captain ever’ and then pull rank.” Orca and Miranda now stood face to face, fists clenched, and I wondered if anyone planned to intervene.

  “I’m trying to—”

  “You’re not trying to do anything, and you sure as salt aren’t taking any of our advice. If you were, Ching wouldn’t be on this ship.”

  “We need Ching.”

  “You need Ching,” said Orca. “Let it go. Forget about Gemini. We’ve got a good thing going out here. A good ship. We can go back to how things used to be. Take a ship in a raid and give it to Ching. The crew who want to follow her can go. She can get back home on her own wind, or not, and it won’t matter to us.”

  “That’s a fair point,” said Kraken.

  “You’re missing the point. I’m not spending the rest of our lives chasing after scraps when we don’t fucking have to.”

  “Maybe we do.” They all turned to look at me. Rubbing my temples, I tried to rally my thoughts. “There’s always someone with a bigger ship willing to take things from you.”

  “Rose—”

  “You grew up on Gemini.” Now I was shouting. It hurt. I didn’t stop. “I know what happened, and I’m sorry, but Gemini is a well-off station compared to Cassiopeia. We weren’t much better than drifters, and we were a part of the Archipelago. We didn’t have enough ships to even think about revolt.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point is that you don’t really know.”

  Orca and Kraken looked from me to Miranda. Kraken’s vast shoulders were slumped, and Orca gave me a tiny nod, encouraging me to continue.

  “What don’t I know?”

  “What it’s like to have nothing.”

  “I lost every—”

  “Exactly.” Words skittered away from me as I pulled them into coherence. I snatched a few back. “You know what you lost. They don’t. They want it because it looks nice from a distance, but they’ll settle for less because it’s what they know. It’s what I know.”

  Miranda’s mouth hung open as if I’d slapped her. She swung her gaze to Kraken for support.

  “She’s right, Mere,” he said.

  “Maybe a little dramatic, but yeah,” said Orca.

  “So because my crew grew up half starved, I should let them settle for more starving? Is that what you’re asking me to do? Because if that’s the case, then you elected the wrong bloody captain.” She seemed to have forgotten, in the heat of her anger, that this was exactly what she feared had occurred. “Other suggestions?”

  “Raid again,” said Orca.

  “We just won a raid.”

  “You didn’t. You were here with Rose. Lead the assault, remind them why they chose you, and they’ll get over this. Give Ching a ship. We can find the sea wolves without her if you still want to, or with her—but keep her on a different ship.”

  Miranda yanked on her braid so viciously I thought I could hear her hair follicles screaming. She said, seething, “Kraken?”

  “It’s a solid plan.” It had probably been his plan to start with. It had more nuance than I wanted to give Orca credit for on her own.

  “Fuck you all.”

  She collapsed onto another chair and glared at us with bloodshot eyes. “And fuck Luca.”

  Grief and rage roughened her voice. I wanted to go to her and take her in my arms, but not with Orca and Kraken watching. She didn’t allow herself to be soft in front of other people.

  Except she had. She’d shown a softness for me, which was where this had all started going wrong. I half wanted to laugh at the irony. I’d hated how cold she was toward me on deck, but she’d been right. Coldness, brutality—these things were necessary.

  They shouldn’t have to be.

  Thinking like that, though, would set me back on the path we needed to leave, and I’d meant what I said. I wasn’t sure there was a better way to find.

  Chapter Eight

  Harper knocked on the door. “Rose? It’s me.”

  I unlocked the door. “Do you have it?”

  She edged away from me. “Are you sure this is a good idea? The doctor—”

  “The doctor isn’t Archipelago trained. She probably doesn’t even know what she’s talking about. Give it here.”

  “You have no idea what’s really in this.”

  “I know it will make me more functional, and I don’t have a choice.”

  “It will allow you to push yourself when you should be resting.”

  “Someone almost knifed me yesterday, Harp. I can’t stay in this room forever, and I need . . .” I lost my train of thought. “Seas. Just give it to me.”

  Harper removed her hand from her pocket slowly and uncurled her fingers. A jar of plant matter lay inside. “Do you have a pipe?”

  “What?”

  “This isn’t home. They actually smoke it.”

  “How do they light it?”

&nbs
p; Harper whipped a minuscule contraption out of her pocket and flicked it. Blue flame danced at the tip before extinguishing. Methane.

  “I don’t have a pipe,” I said, belatedly answering her question.

  “I’ll loan you my spare.”

  “Spare . . . what the hell, Harper?”

  She grinned. “There’s an art to fitting in, Rose.”

  “Like sacrificing your lungs?”

  “At this rate, neither of us will live long enough for that to matter. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  I nodded. Harper shifted her weight, then loaded her pipe with a pinch of the herb. “Nic said it’s the strongest non-hallucinogenic stimulant they have. It should take the edge off the pain and make you more alert, but you’ll crash hard at the end.”

  “At least I’ll be alive.”

  “Rose . . .” But Harper didn’t say whatever she was thinking. She held the pipe to my lips and gave me a short lecture on proper technique, then lit the bowl. I inhaled, coughed, gagged, and coughed some more.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Crisped.” I coughed again. My throat felt thick and raw, but as I swallowed, my vision cleared, and the headache receded for the first time in weeks. “Oh. Wow.”

  “What?”

  “There aren’t two of you anymore.”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing.” She flounced her hair, then dropped all pretense of play. “I still can’t believe someone tried to kill you.”

  “I can.” I stood, relishing the way the floor didn’t sway beneath me and the room held still. Whatever the botanists had done to this strand was working. Cautiously, aware that Harper was watching me, I reached for the ocean.

  It felt like wading through the interior of a giant jellyfish. The pressure I pushed against was fibrous and gel-like all at once, and I tried not to think about whether or not that material was the gray matter that made up my brain.

  Through it lay true north.

  “Rose?”

  Harper’s hand fell on my shoulder, and she wiped my cheek with her sleeve. Tears blurred my vision. North. East. South. West. The points flooded me, and beyond them, I felt the currents tugging at my alignment. I oriented myself toward north without thinking. It fell on me like sunlight, like warmth, like Miranda’s arms around me. Home.