Where the Ships Die (20 page)

The wreckers needed time to collect their tools, wade through the surf, and start work. So the haulers were put to work a hundred yards down the beach where the last shift had left a pile of durasteel plates.

There was nothing complicated about the work. Half the haulers were issued six-foot lengths of rope and told to find partners. Most had anticipated the moment and were paired off. Dorn, who had a piece of rope but no partner, felt a hand touch his arm. "You looking for some help, son? I'm available."

Dorn turned to find himself face to face with a black woman. She was at least ten or fifteen years his senior and built like a wedge. Years of hard physical work had widened her shoulders, thickened her arms, and narrowed her waist. She wore a sleeveless blouse, shorts, and sandals. Skin gathered over her nose when she frowned. "What? You think you're stronger than I am?"

Dorn gulped and shook his head. "No, ma'am."

The woman nodded gravely. "Good. Then I won't have to kick your skinny butt. Here, hand me the other end of that sling."

Dorn did as he was told. The woman took her end of the rope, led him over to the scrap metal, and accosted a pair of sun-darkened twins. They were thin but wiry. "Hey, you looking for partners? 'Cause the newbie and I match up pretty good."

The twins eyed them, nodded in unison, and headed for one of the plates. Dorn noted the ease with which the twins slid their rope under the steel slab and did his best to emulate their quick, sure movements.

Once both slings were in place a twin said, "One, two, three," and they lifted as one. The plate rose into the air and rode a half foot above the sand as they hauled it up the beach. It was heavy, and the sand made walking difficult.

The going became somewhat easier as they topped the incline and followed another team into the pickup zone. Once there, it was a simple matter to drop the plate, pull the slings out from under, and back away.

A cable dropped out of the sky, and Dorn watched as a pair of preteen boys dashed in, hooked a harness to the slab, and scurried out of the way. The crane jockey, perched a hundred feet in the air, squinted through the smoke created by her stim stick, released the clutch, and jerked a lever.

The five-hundred-pound slab of metal swayed into the air, drifted sideways, and thumped onto a conveyor belt. Dust rose into the air, rollers squealed, and the steel shuddered as the belt carried it upward. Dorn wondered what it would be like to try to sleep in the hovels that crept up within a foot of the belt.

The twins led the way down the slope, and Dorn fell in step with his partner. She was open and direct. "My name's Jana ... what's yours?"

"Dorn ... glad to meet you, Jana. How long have you been here?"

"Seven long, miserable years. Which means that I know a thing or two about how to survive. Want to learn?"
 

Dorn nodded eagerly. "Sure! You bet!"
 

"It'll cost you."

Everything had its price. He should've known. Dorn felt his enthusiasm drain away. "Sorry, I don't have anything to pay you with."

"Oh, yes you do," the woman insisted. "Everybody does. I want to be paid in the same currency you'll receive... knowledge."

Dorn wondered if she was joking. Her face was serious. "What sort of knowledge? What little knowledge I have won't be of much use here."

"Knowledge is always valuable," the woman countered, "since merely having it provides pleasure. As for what you know, and what I
want
to know, let me be the judge of that. Time will pass and the payment will suggest itself."

Dorn wasn't so sure, but if Jana thought he had something to offer, why argue? The lessons began immediately. "Now," his partner said as they reached the bottom of the slope, "it's time to change sides. The work will seem easier, and balanced exercise will build both sides of your body. Watch what you eat, think about the work, and build yourself up."

Dorn did as he was told, wondered if the twins had done likewise, but couldn't remember which was which. The second trip was a copy of the first, as were the third, fourth, and fifth.

Finally, after Dorn had lost track of the number of times they had trudged up the beach, and the sun had grown a good deal warmer, the siren burped, and they surrounded the water barrels brought for their convenience. Salt tablets were available from a dispenser. Jana took two, washed them down with a generous amount of water, and suggested that Dorn do likewise.

With their thirst slaked, there was barely enough time for a ten-minute nap in the shadow cast by one of the guard towers before the siren wailed, guards yelled, the haulers got to their feet, and work resumed.

The existing supply of plates had been exhausted by now, which meant that it was time to march out through the incoming tide, take up positions around the slowly dwindling ships, and ferry the new metal in.

The water felt good at first, pushing against the front of Dorn's legs, foaming past the corner posts that marked where the sifters plied their monotonous trade, and sliding onto the beach. But that was before it grew knee-deep, a data liner loomed high above, and a huge slab of durasteel splashed into the sea not ten feet away.

Dorn learned then how treacherous the unseen sand could be, how it gathered along the inside surface of his sandal straps, and how it rubbed against his unprotected skin. And it was in the shallows, while struggling to slip a sling under a four-hundred-pound chunk of steel, that he had his first encounter with a shift boss.

He had knelt down, and was feeling for the steel plate's edge, when a larger than expected wave hit him in the face. He lost his balance, fell over backwards, and struggled to right himself. He wasn't aware of the exoskeleton until it appeared right next to him. The whip fell across his abdomen. It hurt like hell in spite of the fact that the water slowed the blow. The voice was amplified. "On your feet, stupid! What do you think this is? A private swimming pool? Your team should be halfway to the beach by now."

Dorn thought about fighting back, realized how hopeless it would be, but noted the man's heavily bearded face. The wreck master seemed to understand and nodded agreeably. "That's right, newbie ... remember my face. I can't wear this rig twenty-six hours a day now, can I? That means you and I might run into each other on the beach, where it would be my pleasure to kick your worthless ass. The name is Castor. Nick Castor. Now stand or die."

The exoskeleton took a giant stride forward. The foot pod missed Dorn by less than an inch. Water splashed over him. He turned into the waves, scrambled to his feet, and took his position. Jana tossed the rope; he grabbed it and staggered toward shore. The shift boss watched them go, spit into the surf, and turned away. Servos whined as he moved along the line.

"Nice work," the woman said through tightly clenched teeth. "Castor likes to pick on the same people over and over again. Looks like you're elected."

Dorn tried to think of something clever to say, failed, and decided to keep his mouth shut. The sun rose higher in the sky, the work grew harder, and the waves came in endless succession. Life was hard, and only the hard would survive. Dorn allowed a wave to break against his chest, pushed his way into the oncoming tide, and swore he'd be among them.

14

The wise and prudent man will draw a useful lesson even from poison itself.

Lokman

Ethiopian fabulist

Circa 100 B.C.

Aboard the
Will of God
in Deep Space

The dream was strange in at least two respects: Natalie
knew
she was asleep for one thing and her mother acted as narrator for another.

She watched the freighter taxi, pause, and vanish within its own cloud of steam. Then, as part of a miracle she had witnessed countless times before, the ship broke free of the water. Sunlight glinted off the hull as it turned slightly, and the drives growled. What made the whole thing so horrible was knowing what would happen next.
Knowing
and being powerless to stop it. Her mother's voice was calm and reflective. "I made many mistakes during my lifetime. The Braxton deal comes to mind, as does the terraforming project."

"What about me?" Natalie interjected, her voice echoing through time and space. "Was
I
a mistake?" Her mother couldn't or didn't want to hear, and Natalie watched the ship lift.

"Yes," Mary Voss continued, "I made many mistakes ... not the least of which was ignoring your father more than I should have. Take this trip, for example. He was dead set against it and wanted to sweep the ship for explosives. I should have listened, I should have ..."

The rest of her mother's words were lost as a miniature sun was born, lived for three seconds, and collapsed on itself. Thunder rolled, and windows shattered all around the bay.

Natalie awoke with a start, her heart pounding, sheets soaked with sweat. The compartment was dark, so dark that the clock and the indicators that surrounded it generated the only available light. Speed, course, and drive temps were all as they should be. Checking them, and knowing what they said, was a habit every deck officer had.

Natalie was preparing to get up and make her way to the head when the numbers vanished and reappeared. Something, or someone, had passed in front of them. "Russo? Is that you?"

A weight fell across Natalie's body, and a hand covered her mouth. She struggled, but to no avail. Her attacker had the advantage and knew how to use it. Her cheek encountered something soft, and the odor of cinnamon filled her nostrils. "Please, Citizen Voss, we mean you no harm."

"Then get the hell out of my cabin," Natalie replied, or tried to reply, since the hand kept her from speaking. She kicked and attempted to free herself. The pressure increased. The voice was concerned. "Your struggles are unnecessary. Relax and we will release you."

The voice and the accent were familiar. The Traa had entered her cabin. Why? What did they want? "We wish to speak with you," the voice said urgently, "privately. May I remove my paw?"

Natalie forced herself to relax and nodded. The paw disappeared, but the weight remained. Sa-Lo turned as the lights came on. Ka-Di, who lay across her torso, checked to make sure she was okay, and pushed himself away. "My apologies ... are you all right?"

"Fine, thank you," Natalie replied stiffly. She did a sit-up and swung her legs over the edge of the bunk. The sweatshirt extended halfway down her thighs. The officer knew the XTs weren't interested in her anatomy, but she felt better knowing she was clothed. "So," she said, trying to sound as stern as possible, "what's going on?"

"We are business beings," Sa-Lo said simply, "and you own something we want."

Natalie felt her heart beat just a little bit faster. So the Traa
had
come aboard because of her. That being the case, there was one thing they could possibly be interested in. "You want the Mescalero Gap."

"Precisely," Sa-Lo said smoothly, "and we're willing to pay more than Citizen Orr offered. Providing that certain agreements can be arrived at."

Natalie's eyebrows shot up. "You know about his offer?"

"Yes," the Traa replied simply, "we do."

Natalie knew there was more here than met the eye. The same doubts that caused her to refuse Orr's proposal surfaced once again. "Well, I'm sorry. The Gap isn't for sale. Not for the moment, anyway."

Ka-Di, silent until now, fought the urge to grab the female by the throat and force her agreement. Cooperation was best, he knew that, and he managed to control himself. Words had power, though ... as did fear. ' 'Captain Jord was correct. . . the pirates want you."

Natalie felt a weight drop into the bottom of her stomach.
"Me?
Why?"

"Because you refused Orr's offer," Sa-Lo said bluntly, "The sooner you die, the sooner he can buy the Gap from your brother."

Natalie glanced from one alien to the other. Though not a business person herself, she had inherited some of her mother's shrewdness, and she realized the Traa knew more than they should have—unless they had links to the industrialist. Which meant they couldn't be trusted. She tried another tack. "If
I
die,
you
die."

"True," Ka-Di replied easily. "Or it would be if we stayed aboard this ship. Come, and we will protect you."

"Yes," Sa-Lo put in. "Why not?"

Natalie wasn't sure why not, except that it had something to do with her parents' legacy, and her brother's trust. That, plus the fact that she was the
Willie's
third officer, which meant that she had a sworn duty to the crew, the ship, and her cargo. The academy's instructors had gone to great lengths to pound that idea into her head, and, like most of the lessons they taught, it stuck.

Natalie braced herself, raised her right foot, and kicked Sa-Lo in the midriff. The alien made a satisfying whoosh and bent over.

Ka-Di saw the preparatory move, anticipated what the human would do next, and triggered the knife. It jumped into his paw and hummed as he touched the switch. The backhanded slash should have cut Natalie's throat but sliced through air instead. It seemed the female had martial arts training. A possibility that Ka-Di had failed to allow for.

Natalie came off the bunk, grabbed Sa-Lo, and used him as a shield. The force blade stopped, but just barely. Ka-Di growled and prepared to attack. But Sa-Lo made that unnecessary by triggering the sleep bomb. He carried five of them for use during their escape. A strange odor caught Natalie's attention, caused her nasal passages to constrict, and was gone before she could think about it. She hit the deck with a thump.

Ka-Di watched saw the human fall, gave thanks for nostril filters, and checked her pulse. It was slow but steady.

Sa-Lo, still short of breath, leaned on the bulkhead. "Humans are annoying."

Ka-Di signaled agreement. "Shall I cut her throat?"

Sa-Lo held up a paw. "No, the pirates will take care of it for us. Besides, you know how emotional the humans are. What if Jord gave chase? Our escape has priority."

The warrior signaled his understanding, restored the weapon to its sheath, and wondered what La-Ma would do. She'd spare the human, he felt sure of that, but what of the rest? How would she judge their plans to secure the wormhole with military force if necessary? Would she approve? There was no way to tell.