Seabound (Seabound Chronicles Book 1) (17 page)

She felt a hand on
the small of her back. David had returned with two glasses of whiskey. She
shook off his hand and took one of the glasses. She didn’t have time for
flirting, even if he was elegant and attentive. Still, she’d felt a brief
warmth spreading through her spine, a shiver in her limbs, unaccustomed as she
was to that kind of physical contact.

“Tell you what,”
David said, “let’s stay for one more performance and then go take a look at
your desalination parts. The stuff that comes after the next set is a little
overblown for my taste.”

“Sure.” Esther
studied David, wondering how careful she needed to be around him. As the
captains’ spokesman, he basically
was
the
Galaxy Flotilla
as far as she was concerned. Still, he might have useful
information. “Do you know Paris well? The artistic director?”

David smirked.
“Paris does make himself known. Yeah, we’re friendly enough.”

“How about his
wife, Marianna? You work together on communications or something, right?”

“Yes, well, she
does the technical work. I come around for the official
Galaxy
business, not the everyday comm officer stuff. Marianna’s
great, though. She knows what she’s doing.”

“They seem like an
odd couple.”

“You mean because
he seems gay?” David said. There was definitely a smirk on his face this time.
“Yes, that is a weird one. He puts it on a bit. I think he’s bi, actually. You
know he and Marianna were going to have a child? Stillborn. Sad business. As
far as I know, Paris desperately wanted kids. He’s terribly concerned about
continuing the human race or some such nonsense. He decided it would be best to
be married to a woman. I think the relationship worked out well for a while,
but I know he dabbles on the side a bit—men and women, I suppose. Paris
loves everybody.”

“Huh. I feel sorry
for Marianna,” Esther said, looking down at them.

“She knew what she
was getting into. Loved him anyway. And she wanted a baby as much as he did.”

David adjusted his
glasses and seemed to notice for the first time that his hair was messed up. He
pulled a comb from the pocket of his trousers.

“Will they last?”
Esther asked.

“People don’t
divorce very often around here. There was a bout of breakups initially, when
everyone was trying to figure out how to live with the new world order—or
lack thereof. But since then, people tend to stay together, if they choose to
marry at all.”

“It’s been the
same on the
Catalina
,” Esther said. “We don’t have new marriages very
often, but I can only think of one or two divorces.” She felt a stab of sadness
for Neal. He’d fallen hard, but there was no way this could end well.

David put the comb
back in his pocket. “The
Catalina
seems like a sweet little community.
You lot are always talking about doing things for the common good and all
that.”

“Who’ve you been
talking to?”

“Believe it or
not, I’m a good listener. You’re all quite pleased with your small-town ways.”

“It’s a good way
to live,” Esther said. “We know each other’s names, and we look out for each
other. I’ll be glad when we can get back to it.”

“Will you really?”
David said. “You don’t feel the slightest bit seduced by the life we have here?
The variety? Surely even a scrappy mechanic girl like you appreciates a little
glamour.”

He ran the back of
his hand down the length of her arm. She jerked her arm away, both annoyed and
thrilled by his touch.

“Scrappy mechanic
girls have simple tastes.”

She tossed her
glass of whiskey back, and nearly choked on a piece of ice.

David laughed, and
his smile was unexpectedly warm. “I meant it as a compliment, you know. Scrappy
is good, tough. Come on, let’s go see the supply hold.”

Chapter 17—In the Hold

They left the theater
as a
group of dancers cavorted down the aisles in masks and elaborate headdresses
made from shells and albatross feathers. Esther was almost sorry to go, but she
didn’t want to miss the chance to finally get her hands on some new RO filters.
And she certainly couldn’t count on getting help from David Hawthorne later. He
led the way down a winding stairwell and along a dim passageway. The music from
the theater faded quickly, and she couldn’t hear the sea either. This part of
the
Galaxy
Mist
seemed deserted. The silent doors might guard
enough surplus materials to keep the
Catalina
going for another decade.

“You’re lucky I
know where this is at all,” David called over his shoulder. “I’m not any kind
of expert in mechanical matters, but I do remember someone talking about
desalination stores on the
Mist
. The stuff you need should be here
somewhere.”

He lifted a hatch
in the floor at the end of the hallway and climbed down a metal staircase, his
feet clomping in the darkness. He flipped on a light at the bottom. Esther scrambled
after him.

The hold was long
and narrow, lined with boxes and shipping crates. Fluorescent lighting cast a
sickly hue over everything. Plastic-wrapped objects and duct-taped containers
hulked like icebergs. Esther walked slowly down the long room, studying the
labels pasted on the sides listing contents and places of origin. David
followed at a distance. She smoothed down her tight skirt, wondering if he was
just looking at the labels too.

“Some of this
stuff is from other ships,” Esther said.

“Yes, the
Mist
is sparsely occupied, so we use it to store goods for everyone.”

“I mean ships that
aren’t part of your flotilla at all. The
Paradise
Rose
,
Oceania
,
the
Libra
.
How did you wind up with their cargo?”

“I told you, I
really don’t know much about what’s in here,” David said.

“If you say so.”
I wonder where those ships are now.

Esther hadn’t missed
the false note in David’s voice. He knew more than he was letting on. She was
pretty sure he knew exactly what had happened to those other ships. Esther
scanned the labels, but the words seemed to jump around. She put a hand to her
head and was startled by how clean her fingernails looked. She stared at them
for a moment, and when she looked up David had come closer.

“Are you all
right?” he asked.

“Yes. That is, I
think so.” She turned around and was surprised to feel slightly unbalanced. She
lurched to the side, as if the floor had tipped under a particularly strong
wave. “Is a storm coming?”

“Not that I know
of.”

“Strange.” Esther
had nearly reached the end of the room. “There. That’s something about
filters.” She pointed to a pile of boxes stacked high above her. “Wish I were
taller.”

She tried to climb
up a nearby stack to look into the top box but had trouble getting a good grip
on the pile.

“Maybe that’s not
such a good idea.” David stepped closer to her.

“No, we need this.
We can’t live on salt water. Everyone knows that.”

She laughed, and
the echoes sounded strange in the cavernous hold.

“Esther, have you
ever been drunk before?” David said.

“Excuse me?”

“Drunk. How many
whiskeys did you have?”

“Uh, not sure.
Maybe three?”

David’s smile was
back. “None of us have much alcohol tolerance these days. I’m a bit tipsy
myself. Maybe you shouldn’t climb boxes until you’re sober again.”

He reached for her
arm and helped her down from the box.

“I can’t waste
this chance. It’s impossible to get any answers about this stuff around here.
It’s important.” She gripped his forearm, trying to communicate the urgency of
her situation. It was all her fault and she had to fix it, no matter what
happened afterward.

David’s glasses
were fogging up. “I know it’s important.”

His voice sounded
nice. It must be the whiskey.

“Look, why don’t
we relax for a while, get some water, and wait for
both
of us to sober up? Then you can go climbing over boxes all you
want.”

“I think I might
fall off the bridge.”

“We don’t have to
go far. I told you the
Mist
is sparsely populated, but some people still
live here—including me. That’s why I knew how to get into the cargo hold,
even though I don’t know exactly what’s in it. Come on, we can go to my cabin.”

Esther followed
him back to the entrance hatch and climbed the ladder slowly. Being drunk was a
rather curious experience, like sitting in the speedboat with the engine turned
off on a misty day. It was kind of fun.

David led the way
through a maze of passageways and staircases. Esther tried to keep track of
where they were going, but soon she was lost in the twists and turns. She was
no longer certain which level they were on. Lights shone in the halls, but they
didn’t cross paths with any other people. Everyone must still be at the cabaret
performance. She hoped Cally was having fun.

“This is me,”
David said.

They were in a
wider hallway, with wallpaper the color of a prestorm sky. Long ago, these
staterooms must have been on the more expensive end. David unlocked the door.

“We don’t use keys
anymore,” Esther said. “No point.”

“When you don’t
know all your neighbors, it doesn’t hurt to be careful. Strange characters come
and go around here.” He winked at her.

Esther hesitated
at the door. “Do you live with your family?”

“No. It’s just
me.”

He held the door
open for her. She felt a twist of nerves, but something about the way David had
acted this evening made her want to trust him. With his mussed-up hair and the
unexpected kindness in his voice, he seemed so . . . human.

The stateroom had
a small table with four chairs bolted to the floor and a screen partially
separating the bed from the rest of the room. The door to the bathroom was
open. David pulled it closed as Esther caught a glimpse of a small pile of
clothes slung over the shower to dry. The walls had a hodgepodge of old ship
posters and drawings in abstract patterns.

“Sorry about the
mess. Water? Or I do have a small bottle of whiskey if you’re not through. A
gift from the captains.”

“Water, thanks.”

“You can look
around if you’d like. Or have a seat.”

“You have a huge
window,” Esther said, staring at the dark square occupying most of the wall on
the far side of the bed.

“Yeah, but the
shield’s closed right now. They do that at night as a precaution. Most of our
shields open up in good weather,” David said, preoccupied with opening the
cabinets built into the small closet.

“What can you
see?” Esther asked.

“Nothing but the
ocean and the stars, when there are any. Most people prefer a ‘city’ view. I
don’t think there’s any point hiding from the fact that we’re surrounded by
water. Too many people live in denial these days.”

David set two tall
glass cups on the table and poured water into them from a plastic bottle. He
sat down in one of the chairs and stretched his long legs underneath the table.
He waved his arm at the other chair. “Help yourself.”

Esther steadied
herself on the wall before walking slowly to the chair. She perched on the edge
of her seat and sipped water from the glass. The room was spinning ever so
slightly. Holding on to the bottom of the table, she studied David over the
edge of her cup.

“What do you mean,
people live in denial?” she said.

David put his
hands behind his head and slouched back in his chair. “They pretend we really
are on a cruise. Going to cabarets, worrying about fashion and gossip. As if
everyone they knew weren’t dead, and aren’t they lucky to be having this lovely
holiday? The captains like it this way. They want people to stay in this
perpetual bubble of denial because it keeps them calm. You know, most of the
people who work on the crews and cleaning staff here were doing the same kind
of work before. Their children are growing up and taking on the same jobs. And
the people living in the lap of luxury now were original paid-up passengers.
We’re not like you
Catalinans
,
who have such a pathetic situation, overcrowded as you are, that you all have
to pitch in.”

He stared stormily
at one of the drawings on the wall, a geometric pattern of rings and jagged
lines.

“What about you?”
Esther challenged.
The Catalina is not
pathetic.
“Aren’t you part of the lap of luxury, as you call it? You work
directly for the captains.”

“I’m in charge of
the spin,” David said. “It’s easier for me to see when that’s all there is.
Building a new civilization on the sea indeed.”

Esther’s glass was
cool against her lips. The room was becoming more stable.

“Are you sure you
should be talking about this to me?”

David barked a
laugh. “You’re right. I probably shouldn’t. You’re a strange one, Esther.”

They sat in
silence. Esther felt calmer than she had in a long while. The filter parts were
within reach. Maybe it didn’t matter what was going on with the oil tanker and
the captains. She could get the parts they needed, and they’d be on their way.
Still, it was good to know someone acknowledged the falseness, or maybe
the delusion, of life on the
Galaxy
.
But
as the spinning of the room slowed, she noticed David was studying
her closely. It wasn’t obvious, because his indolent position hadn’t changed,
but his eyes were fixed on her, piercing behind the thick frames of his
glasses. She figured it was a good time to change the subject.

“Why aren’t you
married?”

“Ha! I was trying
to guess what you were thinking, and that is not what I expected at all. I
thought you were trying to think of a way to take apart my cabin and turn it
into a desalination system. Why aren’t
you
married?”

“Well, I’m only
twenty-two, and my choices are rather limited.”

“I’d have guessed
you were older than twenty-two. You’re so damn confident. But you have some
uncertainty underneath. You hide it well, though.”

Esther ignored the
last part of his statement. “And you?”

“I’m thirty,”
David said. “Just last month. You know how Paris and Marianna got married
because they
wanted
to make babies?
Well I’m the opposite. I don’t see the point in creating a family when the
world has gone to hell on high water already.”

“You don’t see the
point in a lot of things, do you?” Esther said.

“Do you want to
have kids on a godforsaken cruise ship at sea?”

“No, I don’t. But
my level of despair doesn’t quite equal yours. We’re making our life at sea
work well enough. It’s almost all I can remember anyway. Other people can have
kids, and I’ll focus on my work, help keep them safe and hydrated. Everyone
wins.”

“If you say so.
More water?”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you so
crazy about machines anyway?” he asked over his shoulder as he stood to retrieve
another bottle.

“I’m not crazy
about them.”

“The only thing
we’ve ever talked about until now is how much you need parts.”

He sat on the
table this time, closer to her, and poured. The water tumbled into the glass
like crystals.

“I like things
that fit together in a logical way. They break sometimes, but it’s a simple
matter of getting the right pieces to fit in the right ways and you can fix
anything. And the work I do is meaningful. Keeping the engines functional,
fixing the pumps, modifying the water system. It has a direct impact on all our
lives.”

“And you’re good
at it?”

He was close
enough for Esther to smell the salt spray on his skin.

“Yeah, I am. I
mess up sometimes, but I never make the same mistake twice.”

The room was no
longer spinning, but Esther felt light-headed as David leaned closer to her
face.

“It must be nice
to have something to be so passionate about.”

“It is.
It’s—”

David moved in and
kissed her. It happened so quickly and unexpectedly that Esther didn’t have
time to react, but she didn’t pull away. David’s mouth was hot and smooth. The
light from the cheap ceiling fixture reflected across his glasses. He pulled
back and looked at her. He seemed surprised at himself too. Now would be the
time to say something. But Esther just stared at him for a moment, then leaned
forward and kissed him again. This was not a good idea. She still didn’t
completely trust him. They had work to do before she returned to the
Catalina
that night. He put a warm hand on the back of her neck, then brushed his
fingers slowly along her collarbone. She wrapped her hands in his hair and
pulled him closer.