Some Fine Day (8 page)

The list goes on, and I feel more useless by the minute. By the time I tell her that no, I can’t cook, hunt, work metal or weave on a loom, I’ve come to the humbling realization of how few things I actually know how to do. Down below, we get everything we need from the factories and the hydroponic farms. I guess I should know more about plants since that’s my mother’s specialty, but I’ve hardly been home for the last eight years. Clearly, these people lead a much more primitive existence.

“I’m afraid we have a problem, Nordqvist,” she says. “I’ll be honest. This group is not in a position to take on another mouth to feed, another body to clothe, without a compelling reason.”

“Maybe you could just drop me off,” I suggest weakly.

The captain stares at me like I’m the dullest cadet in a remedial logic class. “Drop you off? Where exactly? We’re in the middle of the ocean.”

“But I saw islands. . .”

“They’re far behind us now. I can’t turn the whole fleet around.”

I don’t say anything, afraid whatever comes out will only make things worse. There’s got to be something I can bargain with. I just have no idea what it is.

“According to our charter, any person who endangers the group is subject to expulsion, effective immediately.” She lets the significance of this sink in. “By definition, a pika like yourself, in the absence of any mitigating factors, is a threat to the group. You don’t fit in, and they’ll be looking for you.”

That word again. “Pika?” I say.

“Underground burrowing rodents. Ring any bells?” She sighs. “Look, you’re young, I don’t hold you personally responsible. But your people left their people to die up here. The ones that are left nourish a grudge, and I can’t say I blame them.”

“You said their people. Aren’t they yours too?”

“I used to be one of you,” the captain says. “In another life. But that’s none of your concern.”

There’s a pained silence. “Look, I’m nobody special,” I say. “I am. . . I was a military cadet. But my family’s poor. My dad’s a bus driver, my mom’s a teacher. They don’t have any political influence. I’ve probably already been written off as missing, presumed dead. End of story.”

I’m not sure if Banjeree’s buying it but I hold her gaze without wavering.

“That’s nice,” she says finally. “Very reassuring.  I wish it was enough. Unfortunately, we still have to cut you loose.” She looks away, but not before I see a flash of pity in her black eyes. “Maybe someone else will pick you up. Who knows?”

Obviously, the odds of that happening are slim to none. It’s a death sentence, and not even a quick one. Suddenly, as hard as I’ve prayed to escape from these people, I’m terrified they’ll abandon me.

“Hold on a minute,” I say desperately, but she’s already out the door.

When she comes back, she’s not alone. The red-headed guy is with her, face carved in stone. He yanks my arms behind me and walks me down the passageway and up a circular metal staircase. Captain Banerjee opens a door and sunlight hits my face. It’s blinding after so many days in the darkness, but I can’t throw up a hand to shield my eyes so I just stand there blinking like a troglodyte. My heart is hammering in my chest. I close my eyes and breathe the salt air deep into my lungs, and it’s indescribably clean and fresh after the stench of the hold.

A bunch of people are on deck doing things with the sails and the complex web of ropes shrouding the double masts. There’s no land in sight, not even a distant speck, just white clouds mounded on the horizon. Even the gulls are gone. Captain Banerjee walks up to an older man and says something I can’t catch, and he looks over at me, a troubled expression on his weathered face. They converse for a moment, and he finally nods, starts moving through the crew and saying a few words to each one. Heads begin turning my way.

“What’s going on?” I ask the red-haired guy, who’s let go of my arms but stayed close enough to grab me if I try to bolt. As if there’s anywhere to bolt to. He doesn’t answer, and won’t meet my eyes.

“All in favor?” Banerjee calls out, and hands start going up across the deck. I notice the older guy keeps his down, and a few others, but they’re a small minority.

“Bring the prisoner astern, Rupert,” Banerjee orders, and he drags me to the back of the ship, where our foaming wake trails out for a quarter mile or so until it dissolves into the blue emptiness of the ocean. Everything is happening so fast. I didn’t think it would happen so fast.

“Wait!” I scream, as Will bursts from the wheelhouse and is seized by the nearest crewmen.

“Don’t, Captain,” he says, not loudly but with a note of authority that makes the others pay attention. “We can still use her in sick bay. You know I need help. Let her change bedpans if it’s punishment you’re after.”

“You already have Lisa,” Banerjee responds calmly. “This girl is nothing but a liability. The crew agrees.”

I scan the crowd, and what I see there is not encouraging. The ones that don’t hate me outright seem resigned to executing an unpleasant but necessary task. Most are way too young to have witnessed the Transition firsthand, but they still look old and tired and like they’ve never had enough to eat in their lives. Rupert forces an orange life vest over my head and pulls me to the edge, where I seize the rail with both hands. For some reason, the vest scares me worst of all. It means they’re really going to do it.

“This is nothing but murder,” Will says, and now there’s heat in his voice.  “You all know it.”

Banerjee lifts her chin. She’s standing in the middle of the deck, her body shifting smoothly with the rolling of the ship as though it’s a part of her, and she radiates such command I can see why the others follow without question. “Your objections are noted for the record. Also for the record, I’ll add that I do what I have to do to keep this group alive. That’s my first priority.”

Will curses and fights to break free but he’s being held firmly by three crewmen.

I look over the edge and picture the fall, the waves closing over my head, then watching the ship as it sails off, and night comes, and there’s nothing but me and the terrifying vastness of the sea. Of all the ways I have imagined dying, and some were very bad indeed, drowning in the ocean,
on the surface
, was never even a remote possibility. It feels utterly wrong. A major mistake has been made somewhere.

Adrenaline floods my mouth in a hot, coppery burst. When Rupert reaches for me, I’m ready.

With his left hand, he grabs a fistful of life jacket. His right seizes my arm just above the elbow. This is the easiest way for him to dispose of me. A little tug, a little lift, and over I go.

In a split second, I reverse my hand so it’s gripping his arm, instead of the other way around. Then I jerk his weight down, forcing his knees to bend and bringing his head into perfect alignment with the elbow that’s already on its way. It makes contact with the sweet spot just behind his jaw, and Rupert’s out before his body even hits the deck.

The whole thing happens so fast that Banerjee and her crew don’t know what to make of it. I lift the life jacket over my head and drop it on Rupert’s chest.

“Well, damn,” someone says.

The rush ebbs away. I’m inches from falling over and never moving again, but I can’t. They need to think I’m stronger than that, even if I’m not really.

I’ve got an idea. A traitorous idea that goes against every value they beat into me at the Academy. But in the end, when I’m forced to choose, I choose a chance at life over loyalty. I can’t help it.

“How many of your people died last week?” I say loudly, steadying myself against the rail as the ship wallows through a deep trough. 

There’s a moment of heavy silence. Then Will answers. “Seventeen,” he says. “And twice as many injured.”

I look around, choosing the ones that seem the least belligerent and holding each of their stares for a few seconds. “What I just did to him, I can show you how to do to your enemies,” I say. “Turn their own skills and strategy against them.”

Banerjee crosses her arms. “Go on,” she says.

“I know weapons, I know single combat.” There’s a few snickers, which I ignore. “I can teach you stuff that’ll cut your casualty rate by half, maybe more.”

“That’s quite a claim,” the captain says. “What I just saw was a man caught by surprise, and a lot of dumb luck. Even a rabbit will bite when it’s caught in a trap.”

There’s more laughter at this, and I feel my tenuous reprieve start to evaporate. So I say something reckless. “I’ll prove it then. I’ll fight whoever you want.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know they were a mistake. I should have held out for better terms.

Banerjee’s smirk turns to a broad grin. “How about it? Should we let her?”

There’s a ragged cheer from the men and some of the women. They probably don’t get much live entertainment. Will and the older guy just look worried.

“Let’s do it then,” the captain declares. “Time’s a-wasting.”

I let go of the rail and my right knee starts to buckle. I grip it again fast and hope no one noticed.

“I want my stitches out first,” I say.

Banerjee frowns. “No.”

“Afraid to give me a fair chance?” I say. “You’ve starved me and left me in the dark for more than a week. Prior to that, I was stabbed in the back and had my head cracked open. All I’m asking is to let the doc get my stitches out so I can move right.”

Everyone looks at the captain. One or two are nodding. I realize that they live by a code, these people. They aren’t completely without honor. And neither is Banerjee, as much as she wishes to be rid of me.

“You’ve nothing to lose,” I say quietly. “I, on the other hand, have everything to lose. I’m only asking for a fair chance.”

She scowls deeply, then gives a short nod. “Fine. But do it soon. I want to get this farce over with. Oi! Bob!”

A huge figure lumbers into view from behind one of the masts. My heart sinks. It’s the giant from the beach.

“Fancy a sparring match?” Banerjee asks.

He looks at me and rubs his head thoughtfully. “With her?”

I’m hoping he’ll find it beneath his dignity to fight a wee girl, but Bob doesn’t seem to care much either way. He’s like a wrecking ball, happy to demolish whatever’s placed in his path.

“Yeah, OK,” he rumbles.

“Excellent.” Banerjee turns to me, black eyes glittering. “I’m sure you’re anxious to dazzle us all with your strength and agility, but for now there’s work to be done.” She strides to the wheelhouse. “Set a port tack! We make land tomorrow.”

And with that, it’s over. The crowd starts to disperse, everyone returning to their duties. Everyone except for Will, whose unreadable gaze follows me as I’m taken back below.

The problem then became one of simple mathematics. How many lives can a closed system support?

The next morning, I can tell something has changed. There’s a lot of activity on deck, feet pounding up and down. I look out the porthole and see flocks of birds, some small and brown, others hot pink with comically long legs. We’re running about a mile offshore of the biggest island I’ve seen yet. It pokes out of the sea like the top of a jungle-covered mountain.

Maybe that’s what it was, once.

A deep lagoon appears ahead and the ship turns toward it, muscling up a huge white-capped swell and rocketing down the back side. Then we’re in calmer waters, so clear I can see the sandy bottom far beneath. Faint shouts from above, they must be dropping the sails, and we coast for so long that I think we might run aground. The light dims and the water splashing against the sides of the ship takes on a strange echoing sound.  Rough rock walls glide past. We’re inside a cavern. Which makes perfect sense if you think about it.

Because the last major problem is how to elude the satellites.

They leave me waiting for a good hour, which feels like an eternity when your imagination keeps conjuring up scenarios of what’s about to happen, each worse than the last. What was I thinking? I’m in no condition to fight anybody, let alone Bob. I should be in a hospital bed.

Finally, Will comes. I’m glad it’s him and not one of the others. He takes me to the same cabin as before and gives me a bowl of tasteless grey porridge, but also something unexpected: a hard-boiled egg.

“Go on, you need your strength,” he says.

His kindness is almost tougher to take than if he were openly antagonistic. I pick up the egg and peel off the speckled brown shell. My stomach is tied into knots, but I eat it because he’s right.

“This was yours, wasn’t it?” I guess.

“I’m not hungry,” he says with a smile that’s supposed to be reassuring but just looks funereal.

“Thank you,” I say. “And don’t worry about me, I can take of myself.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his expression conveys serious doubts about the truth of this claim. Doubts I share, but don’t care to admit.

Will watches me bite into the egg and I am acutely conscious of my dirty legs and greasy fingers. I try not to eat so fast this time, but there’s not much food anyway and it’s gone in a minute or two.

“I hear you knocked him out before,” he says, as we walk single-file down the passageway and ascend the stairs to the deck. “During the fight.”