Ship Breaker

20

WHITE SPRAY EXPLODED over Dauntless’s prow and showered Nailer in cool shimmering drops. He whooped and leaned far over the rail as the ship plunged into the next wave trough, then surged skyward again.

What had always looked so smooth and sleek on the horizon was a rough adventure when experienced from the prow of the Dauntless. Waves flew toward him, huge surges that exploded in spray as the low-density hull slashed through. All across the decks, crewmen called and labored under the hot sun, orienting sails, drilling for fire attacks, clearing deck materials as they readied for the fight that they hoped would come.

Dauntless was patrolling the blue waters just a few miles off the Orleans, hoping for a glimpse of their potential quarry. Everyone hoped it would be the Ray holding Nita. Dauntless was more than a match for that soft target, but the other ship, Pole Star, everyone feared. Even the captain was worried about that one. Candless was too good a leader to admit that he was frightened, but Nailer could tell from the way his face turned stony at the mention of the cross-global schooner that it represented an unequal fight.

“She’s fast, and she’s got teeth,” Reynolds said when Nailer asked about the ship. “She’s got an armored hull, she’s got missile and torpedo systems that can blow us right out of the water, and we’d hardly have a chance to pray to God before we died.”

She explained that Pole Star was a trading vessel but also a warship, accustomed to fighting Siberian and Inuit pirates as it made the icy Pole Run to Nippon. The pirates were bitter enemies of the trading fleets and perfectly willing to kill or sink an entire cargo as revenge for the drowning of their own ancestral lands. There were no polar bears now, and seals were few and far between, but with the opening of the northern passage a new fat animal had appeared in the polar regions: the northern traders, making the short hop to Europe and Russia, or over to Nippon and the wide Pacific via the top of the melted pole. And with the disappearance of the ice, the Siberians and the Inuit became sea people. They pursued their new prey the way they had once hunted seals and bears in the frozen north, and they hunted with an implacable appetite.

Pole Star was a vessel that relished these encounters, baited them even.

Still, despite Nailer’s warnings, Reynolds said they would most likely encounter the Ray. “Pole Star is on the far side of the world,” she said.

“But Lucky Girl-”

“Miss Nita could have been mistaken. In a storm, under pursuit, anyone could make a mistake.”

“Lucky Girl’s not stupid.”

Reynolds gave him a hard look. “I didn’t call her stupid. I said she could have made a mistake. Pole Star’s shipping schedule puts her just out of Tokyo, and that’s assuming the winds have been favorable. No closer.”

The work on the decks continued. An astonishing amount of the ship ran on automation. They could raise and lower the sails on winches electronically with power from solar batteries. The sails themselves were not canvas at all, but solar sheets, designed to feed electricity into the system and add to the power available already from roof skin solar cells. But even with the electronics and automation, still Captain Candless drilled everyone on how to reef a sail if everything was dead and how to work the hand pumps if the ship was sinking and the power failed. He swore that all the technology in the world wouldn’t save a sailor if he didn’t use his head and know his ship.

The crew of the Dauntless knew their ship.

Sailors clambered up the masts, checking winch hooks and loop points for rust or repair. Near Nailer, Cat and another crewman were loading the huge Buckell cannon that was set near the prow, fitting the parasail into its barrel and checking the monofilament tether line-gossamer thin and steel strong-that sat in a shining reel beside the gun.

If anyone cared about the loss of crewmen ashore when they sailed, no one said anything. The captain muttered that a few of the crew still on board would probably have preferred another master, but that hardly mattered now. They were on the waves and if they had a grumble they kept it to themselves. Candless’s core of loyal followers kept everyone in line and so Dauntless surged through the waves of the Gulf, patrolling and waiting for its target.

On the first night, Nailer had slept in a soft bunk and woke with his back aching from it, unused to sinking into a mattress instead of lying on sand or palm ticking or hard planks, but by the second day he felt so spoiled that he wondered how he would sleep when he went back to the beach.

The thought troubled him: when he went back?

Was he going back?

If he went back, his father or his father’s crew would be waiting for him, people who would look for payback. But no one on the ship was indicating that he would be able to stay on Dauntless, either. He was in limbo.

A splash of water shook him from his reverie. The ship plunged through another wave crest, dousing him and shaking him from his perch. He skidded across the deck until his life line caught him short with a jolt. He was hooked to the rail to keep himself from washing overboard, but still the huge blue-green waves that surged over the bow and poured off the sloped deck were astonishingly powerful. Another wave rushed over them. Nailer shook seawater out of his eyes.

Reynolds laughed as she saw him climbing to his feet again. “You should see what it’s like when we’re really going fast.”

“I thought we were.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Someday, if we use the high sails, you’ll see. Then we don’t sail, we fly.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “We truly fly.”

“Why not now?”

She shook her head. “The winds have to be right. You can’t fire the Buckell cannon unless you understand the high winds. We send up kites first to test, to make sure, and then if the water’s right and the high winds are right.” She pointed at the cannon. “Then we fire that bad baby and she jumps out of the water like she’s been shot.”

“And you fly.”

“That’s right.”

Nailer hesitated, then said, “I’d like to see it.”

Reynolds gave him a speculative look. “Maybe you will. If we have to run, maybe we’ll all be skating the ocean.”

Nailer hesitated. “No. After we save Lucky Girl, I mean. I want to come with you. Wherever you go. I want to go, too.”

“Careful what you wish for. We’d work you.”

“Is that all?” Nailer made a face. “I’m not afraid of work.”

“All I see you doing is standing on a deck and riding waves.”

Nailer locked eyes with her. “I’ll do anything you want, if you take me on. You just say it. I’m not afraid of any work.”

Reynolds grinned. “Guess we’ll have to send you up the mast and see.”

Nailer didn’t blink. “I’ll go.”

The captain came up behind her. “What’s all the conversation?”

Reynolds smiled. “Nailer here wants a job.”

The captain looked thoughtful. “A lot of people want to work on the clippers. There are whole clans dedicated to it. Families who buy the right to get on as deckhands and hope to move up. My own family has worked clippers for three generations. That’s a lot of competition.”

“I can do it,” Nailer insisted.

“Hmm,” was all the captain said. “Perhaps this is a conversation better saved for after we’ve located our Miss Nita.”

Nailer wasn’t sure if Candless was trying to put him off or if he was just saying no in a polite way. Nailer wanted to press the issue, but didn’t know how without angering the captain. “You really think you can find Lucky Girl and get her back?” he asked instead.

“Well, I’ve got some tricks,” Candless said. “If the captain of the Ray is still Mr. Marn, then we’ll be over their gunwales before they know what’s hit them.” He smiled, then sobered. “But if it’s Ms. Chavez, then we’re in for a rare fight. She’s no fool and her crew is hard and all our decks will be bloody.”

“It won’t be Pole Star,” Reynolds insisted.

“Do they both use half-men?” Nailer asked.

“Some,” the captain answered. “But Pole Star has almost half its crew staffed with augments.”

“Augments?”

“Your half-men. We call them augmented because they’re people-plus.”

“Like Tool.”

“A strange creature, that one. I’ve never heard of a salvage company that would bond that sort of muscle.”

“He wasn’t with Lawson & Carlson. He was on his own.”

The captain shook his head. “Impossible. Augments aren’t like us. They have a single master. When they lose that master, they die.”

“You kill them?”

“Goodness no.” He laughed. “They pine. They are very loyal. They cannot live without their masters. It comes from a line of canine genetics.”

“Tool didn’t have a master.”

The captain nodded, but Nailer could tell he didn’t believe. Nailer dropped the subject. It wasn’t worth making the captain think he was crazy.

But it did make him wonder about Tool. Everyone who was familiar with half-men and their genetics said that Tool was an impossible creature. That no independent half-men existed. And yet Tool had walked away from many masters. He had worked for Lucky Strike and Richard Lopez, had worked for Sadna, had worked to protect him and Lucky Girl, and then had simply walked away when it no longer suited him. Nailer wondered what Tool was doing now.

Nailer’s thoughts were broken by Captain Candless drawing a gun. “I almost forgot,” the captain said as he handed it to Nailer. “I promised you this before. Something for when we find our ship. You’re going to need to practice with it. Cat will be drilling the crew, and you will drill with them. Boarding actions and the like.”

Nailer held the lightweight thing in his hand, so different from the sorts of pistols he had seen others use. “It’s so light.”

The captain laughed. “You can swim with it even. It won’t drag you down. The ammunition is a penetrator. It doesn’t use weight to enter the body-well, not as much-it uses spin from the barrel. You’ve got thirty shots.” He offered Nailer a fighting knife as well. “You know how to cut someone?” He indicated the soft parts. “Don’t worry about a killing blow and don’t go for the head. It will extend you. Go low and hit them in the belly, the knees, behind the legs. If they’re down…”

“Cut their throat.”

“Good boy! Bloodthirsty little bastard, aren’t you?”

Nailer shrugged, remembering Blue Eyes’s blood hot on his hands. “My father is pretty good with a knife,” he said. He forced the memory away. “When do you think we’ll fight?”

“We’ll patrol here. We should get a visual on anyone within fifteen miles. We’ve got the scopes to get a good look at them, and then we can decide if we want to chase or play friendly.” He shrugged. “We don’t know what they’re up to. Maybe they’re going to stay for a little while, lie low down south while they wait out the boardroom tactics up north, but I doubt it. They’re going to run north and try to make contact with Pyce.”

The captain turned and headed for the conning deck. As he departed, he nodded at Nailer’s pistol. “Practice with it, Nailer. Make sure you can hit what you aim at.”

Nailer nerved himself up and called after the man. “Captain!”

When Candless turned, Nailer said, “If you trust me with a gun, maybe you could trust me with some work, too.” He waved at the busy ship. “There must be something you can use me for.”

Reynolds shook her head. “You’re like a tick on a dog. Just won’t stop trying to latch on.”

“I just want to help.”

The captain studied him thoughtfully, then nodded at Reynolds. “Fair enough. Get him unclipped and make him useful.”

Reynolds gave Nailer an appraising look. “Nicely done, boy.” Then she smiled. “I think I’ve got just the job for you.”

She led him down into the hold of the clipper, to where the hydraulic systems of the ship lay exposed. It was gloomy. Maintenance panels were pulled up out of the deck and stacked in bins. Huge gears lay exposed under the floor, wicked teeth intertwined, gleaming with oily coatings. Small LED indicators glowed beside control decks. The air reeked with grease and metal. Nailer felt vaguely sick. It reminded him of being back on light crew.

A huge form crawled out from within the gearing system, hoisted itself out. It stared at the two of them with bestial yellow eyes. Knot.

Reynolds said, “Nailer says he wants to be useful.”

Knot examined him, his doglike muzzle sniffing the air with questions. “So.” He nodded shortly. “He’s small enough. I have a use for him.”

When Reynolds was gone, he gave Nailer an oiling can and spray applicator that Nailer strapped to his back, and then Knot put Nailer to work lubricating the gearing systems that extended the hydrofoils. Knot indicated where the massive gears, some of them with wheels more than a meter in diameter, sat in the flooring.

“Make sure each gear is degreased, then reoiled. Be thorough. We don’t want rust getting into the systems. But don’t take long, either. The captain knows we’re servicing the system and we’ve already set the overrides.” Knot indicated a row of levers and LED indicators beside the gears. “Technically, no one can extend the hydrofoils as long as we have them locked down, but”-he shrugged-“accidents happen. I’ve seen crewmen lose an arm because someone forgot to recheck the lockdowns, so even if you think no one’s going to run out the foils, don’t dawdle.”

Nailer studied the wicked-looking gear systems. The teeth glinted dully, looking like they wanted to chew him up. “That bad, huh?”

“The hydrofoils extend very quickly. You would have no chance to react or pull away. They start spinning and they suck anything in, even from a short distance away. Thousands of pounds of pressure running through them. You’d be nothing but ground meat.”

“Nice.”

“You asked for work.” Knot looked at him steadily. “This is the work I have.”

Nailer got the message. He crawled down into the maintenance compartment, threading through the gears. Knot watched him for a moment, then said, “You should also lubricate the break valve joints for the monofilament feed.”

Nailer craned his neck around. “Which are those?”

The half-man gave him an irritated look. “The ones that are labeled as such.” He waved at peeling greasy tags that were stuck to various components of the system.

Nailer stared at the unintelligible words. He looked from the labels to the half-man, then back at the labels. “Sure. Okay.”

The half-man made a face of contempt. “You can’t read?”

“I can make my mark. I know numbers. Stuff like that.”

Knot blew out an exasperated breath. “Your ship-breaking company has a great deal to answer for.” He shook his head. “You will need to be taught, then.”

“What’s the big deal?” Nailer asked. “Just show me which things you want oiled. I’ll remember. If I can remember the quota count, I can remember this.”

Knot made a face of disgust. “You will be useless to me if you cannot read.” He waved a hand at a series of levers. “How will you know which of these disengages the gears from the foil and which will allow you to test the lubricants? How will you know which fires the drive system and which reengages the foils?” Knot slapped a lever and tapped a button inside the service hole. He reached down and yanked Nailer out of the guts of the gears. “Stand back!”

A red light burned bright and Knot yanked another lever. The gears screamed alive, blurring wheels. An oily breeze blew over them as teeth bit against one another and spun up to their maximum speed. The entire maintenance compartment had become a vortex of whirling gears that seemed to want to suck Nailer in. If he’d been down in there, he would have been nothing but a fine spray. Nailer’s skin crawled as he fully understood the work Reynolds had given him.

“How will you know what to do?” Knot shouted over the gear scream. “How will you know how to stop it?” He slapped another button and braked the system. The blurring gears slowed, came to a smooth stop, returning the room to silence.

“I need someone who will not make a mistake and tear their own arm off because they pushed the wrong button,” he rumbled. “I will inform Reynolds of your deficiency.”

“Wait!” Nailer hesitated. “Can’t you just teach me? If you don’t tell Reynolds, I’ll learn whatever you want. Don’t cut me off your crew before I have a chance to start.”

Knot’s yellow dog eyes regarded Nailer. “You wish me to keep a secret from my patron?”

“No.” Nailer’s voice caught as he realized how uncertain the ground was between himself and the half-man. “I’m just saying I can learn anything you throw at me. Just give me a chance. Please.”

Knot cocked his head and smiled. “We’ll see if your words match your performance, then.”

“So you won’t tell her?”

Knot laughed, a low rumble. “Oh no. We don’t keep secrets on this ship. But perhaps Lieutenant Reynolds will give you a grace period… assuming you stay motivated.”

“I’m motivated. Trust me.”

Knot’s teeth showed in the dimness, bright and sharp. “It’s always a pleasure to see the young take an interest in learning.”