Driftmetal (13 page)

“Yeah, we do know the risks,” I said. “That’s why we
were trying to keep it a secret.”

Sable let out a sigh. “You know the Regency’s stance
against primitives. I cannot, in good conscience, submit my crew to
a situation as unsafe as this.”

“Then stop listening to your conscience,” I said.
“And listen to your gut.”

Sable gave me a mocking smile. “They’re the same
thing.”

“Wrong. Your conscience tells you what you’re
supposed
to do. Your gut tells you what you know is
right.”

“I always do the right thing,” she said. “And the
right thing is keeping my crew and my ship intact, whatever it
takes. As much as I want to get Uncle Angus back, the
Galeskimmer
is our home. I won’t allow you to stay in our
home if it’s against the crew’s wishes. We’ll let them decide.”
Sable’s wrist blade
shwicked
away into her arm. “All in
favor of keeping our passengers onboard, raise your hand.”

No one did.

Sable waited a long moment, looking over each of her
companions to be sure. “All opposed?”

Every hand shot up, including Sable’s.

Vilaris sighed and ran a hand through his greasy
hair. Chaz hung his big white bandaged head. Blaylocke was
clutching his arm, his jaw set tight. I imagined their stomachs
were sinking, like mine was.

“You have your answer, Muller Jakes. We’ll let you
off at the next stop. I’ll refund the unused portion of your
deposit then, minus expenses.”

“Who has your Uncle?” I said.

Sable narrowed her eyes at me. “Maclin Automation,”
she said.

Interesting
, I thought.
This has some
legs. Literally
. “The augmentation research and development
company?”

“You’re familiar with them, I’m sure.”

“Are you kidding? Half the tech in my body is Maclin
stuff. Well, not anymore.” I gave Chaz an apologetic look. “But I
used to have lots of Maclin-made augments. They kidnapped your
uncle? Really? What’s a big conglomerate like that doing
maintaining its own off-the-record debtor’s prison?”

“I don’t know the extent of Uncle Angus’s business
relationship with Maclin. But they told me if I reported them to
the Regency, it was the last time I’d ever see him. There’s nothing
we can do about it except pay them what they ask.”

“Whatever you dropped from that shipment must’ve
been pretty important to get them so upset with you. Too bad it’s
lost to the Churn by now, or sitting smashed up on some floater.
How much do they want, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“They said the part of the shipment we lost was
worth three hundred thousand chips. They want three-fifty,
including interest and damages that resulted from the loss.”

“Dear sweet merciful Leridote.” I scratched my
noggin, trying to stimulate the idea that was growing in my
brain-cavity. “Have you paid them anything yet?”

“Nothing. We still haven’t repaired all the damage
to the
Galeskimmer
. The other half of your fee would’ve
gotten us over the top and started us well on our way in the
savings department.”

I looked at my companions. Chaz was still looking a
little spacey, still coming back from that nasty knock to the head.
Blaylocke was leaning against the ship’s railing with his arms
folded in front of him, holding a strip of cloth to his wound.
Vilaris was giving me that squirrely look of his, the one that
says, ‘
don’t do what I think you’re about to do, or I’ll lose
it
.’

I flashed Vilaris a sly grin and cleared my throat.
“I can’t help but feel like this partnership has started off on the
wrong foot. Let’s let bygones be bygones and start over, shall we?
We’re going to be working together very closely over the next few
weeks, and I want everyone here getting along. We need to be a
well-oiled machine if we’re going to do this—”

Sable’s knifeblade flicked out again. She took two
quick strides toward me and jerked the blade up to my throat. “What
in the
heavens’
name are you going on about?” she said.

I winked at her. “We’re partners now, you and I.
Your crew and mine.”

“I’m afraid you are very much mistaken,” she
said.

“Am I? I don’t think so. You see, by the time you
manage to scrape together three hundred and fifty thousand chips,
your Uncle Angus will be a skeleton. Shoot,
I’ll
be an old
man by then. Call me a fool for overlooking it until now, but it’s
just become startlingly apparent to me how much we need each
other.”

“We don’t need the likes of you, or your primitives,
to blacken our good name.”

“Well then, let me tell you what
I
need,” I
said. “I need a ship. This one will do the trick. I need my friends
to be protected by a good group of upstanding techsouls. Case in
point.” I waved a hand toward her crew. “And last, I need to find a
certain gentleman by the name of Alastair Gilfoyle. When you help
us find him and take back what’s ours, this life of indentured
servitude you’re leading will be over. Because in exchange for
helping us, I’m going to offer you half my share of the
takings.”

Vilaris scrunched up his face. “
Your
share?
Since when do
you
have a share?”

“Since I agreed to launch this little excursion for
you, Clint. You told me I would be paid for my troubles. As
payment, I want a one-quarter share of the haul, to split with the
fine folks who live and work on the
Galeskimmer
.”

“You can’t take
that much
of the city’s
income,” Vilaris blurted out.

“I can, and I will. It’s a one-fourth share or it’s
nothing at all.”

“Wait a minute… what city?” said Mr. Scofield.

I grasped for words. “The city we’re all from.
Bannock,” I lied.

“Bannock is no city. It’s a drift-town, at
best.”

“We call it a city sometimes. Give us a break.” I
turned to Sable, desperate to change the subject. “Captain
Brunswick… do you and your crew
really
want to spend the
next several years of your lives scraping by, trying to earn enough
to pay your debts? Or would you rather help us and get your uncle
back right away? Don’t delude yourself. This is going to take a lot
longer than you’re willing to admit, unless you help us.”

Sable lowered her blade. She took off her hat, wiped
the sweat from her brow with a thin white shirtsleeve. When she
spoke, she was addressing her crew. “You all heard him. We have a
long road ahead of us if we go it alone. Getting Captain Angus back
means making sacrifices. Knowing what we know now changes things.
All in favor of combining crews and working together for a short
period of time, raise your hand.” She counted. “All opposed?” She
counted again, then looked at me. “The matter appears to be
settled, Mr. Nordstrom.”

This time, old Landon Scofield and young Eliza
Kinally were the only ones who had voted against us. I hadn’t heard
a word out of Eliza’s mouth since we’d been on board. I didn’t even
know what job she had on the ship. But it was apparent that, for
any number of available reasons, she didn’t like us.

“Good,” I said. “This is surely the start of a very
lucrative and prosperous arrangement. We need to fire up the
turbines and set a course upstream if we’re going to find
Gilfoyle.”

The crew glared at me.

“Not an order,” I said, “just a suggestion. Now if
you’ll excuse me, I’ll be getting back to bed.”

I caught another handful of dirty looks as I made my
way belowdecks.
They can hate me if they want to
, I told
myself as I crawled into my hammock.
They can keep on hating me
after I make them filthy rich, for all I care. Just as long as they
don’t treat me like some lowborn swabbie. I’ve been captain of my
own boat, for crying out loud. One day, I’ll retake command of
my
Ostelle
. Nobody will ever order me around again after
that
. I drifted off to sleep, my head swelling with pride,
eager to dream of all the good things to come.

“I’m impressed.” My eyes shot open at the sound of
Sable’s voice. I found her standing beside my hammock, a hand on
her hip. “Not many people can twist a hopeless situation to their
advantage like you can.”

I yawned and stretched. “Yeah, well, I’m not many
people. And you’re no fool, either. You caught on to how impressive
I am without a single hint. Usually I have to spell it out for
people.”

Sable’s hand was at my throat. No blade this
time—just her cold, skinny fingers. She was doing a fair job of
convincing me that she was not a friendly person.

“I thought I told you to behave yourself while you
were aboard my ship,” she said.

I tried to gulp, but the lump didn’t make it past
her grip. “I was behaving myself just fine. Then they dragged me
out of bed for a whipping I didn’t deserve. That isn’t a situation
I’m comfortable
behaving
for.”

“Why didn’t you just follow orders?”

“Following orders would suggest that I’m a lesser
being than the person who’s giving them,” I said. “I’m no slave,
sister. I’m your cargo, not your hired hand.”

“Oh, you’re our cargo, are you? Maybe we ought to
find a nice big empty crate to shove you into.”

“If it’s the only way I can get a decent night’s
sleep without you jerkwads being all over my case about it…”

She tightened her grip on my throat and leaned in.
Her braid slipped around her back and fell onto my lap with a
whop
. I could smell her, the faint animal scent of unwashed
woman beneath layers of perfume.

“I don’t care how much you’re worth to us,” she
said. “This can be an easy trip for you. Keep on provoking me, and
I’ll see that it’s a hard one. Up to you.”

I kissed her. Wrapped my hand around the back of her
head and pulled her in tight. She shrieked into my open mouth,
wrenched away, punched me high on the cheekbone. The blow left me
stinging, and a little stunned as well. Probably no more stunned
than I’d made her.

“You asshole,” she shouted. She was seething,
nostrils flared, face flushed as purple as a beet.

On a good day, that kiss would’ve been a love story
in the making. Today, it was just a guy distracting a girl from
choking him to death. I’ll admit it wasn’t the most elegant way of
achieving the desired effect. But when you wake up to find an angry
woman threatening to cause you harm, you only have so many
options.

“Ow,” I said, rubbing my cheek. “I’m sorry… I don’t
know what came over me. I just… couldn’t control myself a minute
longer.” I might’ve pulled off the sentiment, if I hadn’t been
laughing.

“If you
ever
lay a finger on me again, I’ll
have Mr. Scofield beat you so good you’ll forget how to bleed.”
There wasn’t an ounce of joviality in her. I didn’t realize she’d
triggered the blade until I heard it slide back in, just before she
stormed out of the cabin.

I couldn’t sleep after that. I couldn’t go above and
face her either, so I stayed in my hammock, staring at the ceiling
and wondering if there was a way to make this boat go any faster. I
wanted to be done with this. Done with them, and
her
. Sable
had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me. The sooner
my companions and I could get out of her hair, the better.

The
Galeskimmer
turned into the wind that
day. Instead of moving toward the fringe to escape the Regency’s
influence, we were heading straight into the heart of the stream,
where drifting cities and massive ships crested the clouds at
altitudes of tens of thousands of feet.

Vilaris and Blaylocke had their theories about where
Gilfoyle might’ve set up shop, and I had a few of my own. Once we
got close, all we’d have to do was ask the locals. Gilfoyle would
turn up. You don’t relocate a Churn mining operation without
getting noticed. Gilfoyle would be hiring workers to replace the
ones he’d lost by moving. He’d also be selling his product to
people in the stream as their drift-towns passed by. It could take
months or years for the lowest floaters to circle Esperon, so
townies were often eager to buy from grav platforms when they had
the chance.

The tension on board was palpable for the remainder
of our journey. Chaz was getting better every day, remembering who
he was and becoming more like his old self again. Blaylocke was
still a jerk, but the crew’s mistrust forced us to put our
differences aside and band together. I even bit the bullet and
swabbed a few decks. After a day or two, I decided I didn’t want to
feel bad about kissing Sable anymore, so I got over it. She didn’t,
though.

We stopped twice during the trip for fuel and
supplies. The first time was on a thickly wooded floater with
gargantuan saibon trees called Lorehawke; the second was on
Jaddow’s Bluff, an oddly-shaped drift-town that looked like a
jagged ice cream cone with half the scoop missing.

On our ninth day out from Mallentis, Mr. Scofield
guided the
Galeskimmer
through a fluffy carpet of clouds and
brought us into a calm breeze near the Knuckles—half a dozen
drift-towns joined together by a series of bridges. From above,
they looked almost like the strands of a spiderweb, a loose network
of nodes and synapses.

The Knuckles had been the invention of one Richard
Wainsborough; his means of solving the problem of owning several
floaters that required air travel to go between. Through great
expenditure and hassle, he’d had them pushed together and joined by
lengths of thick, flexible metal cable. Crossing one of the bridges
when the winds were high was hardly safer than walking a tightrope,
so most people simply didn’t. Wainsborough was long dead, and his
islands had passed into the hands of his descendants, who’d
parceled out various plots and sold them to private owners. The
current residents considered living so close to other drift-towns
little more than a fortunate convenience. As yet, no one had
bothered to go to the trouble or expense of removing the bridges,
and so there the islands remained, tied to one another.