“Kalak is going to trade shifts on and off with you. Dru is worried that the crew is going to start getting unruly soon.”
“No shit,” Riddle rolled her eyes, “Everybody has cabin fever, and we’ve only caught one leviathan after a month at sea. It’s going to take a long while to fill our hull, and they know that.”
“Yeah, well, they knew what they were doing when they signed on.” Abigail pursed her lips. “Either way, Dru wants you to be extra vigilant. She wants all of your attachments serviced by Vladimir himself over the next few weeks as well.”
“What?” Riddle slammed her emptied gun down on her rack with enough force to shake it, "She knows I do it myself now."
“She’s giving you four hours on, four hours off,” Abigail touched her shoulder.
Riddle relaxed her working hand and tilted her head towards Abigail. “Until we port again?”
Abigail removed her hand and sucked air in between her teeth, “No, not quite. Just until our next catch.”
Riddle nodded, “Better than nothin’, I guess. You said Kalak is going to take the other shifts.”
“Yes,” Abigail said, “And he’s also charged with the alternate duty of training Artisema.”
“Good, I’m sick of her making me work longer hours than everyone else.”
“Hey, we do important shit, Riddle,” Abigail defended herself.
“Yeah, but how the fuck would you feel standing twelve to twenty hours of watch every day, in the heat, armed with this fucker,” she patted the heavy prosthetic.
“I get it,” Abigail laughed, “It sucks.”
“No shit, it does.” Riddle picked the attachment up and cradled it under her pale, slender arm.
“Where are you going? You should rest for the next four hours.” Abigail questioned.
“Vlad,” she said.
“Okay, well, can you make sure he knows we’re not docking any time soon.”
“Yup,” Riddle slammed the hatch behind her.
Riddle was the only person with enough guts to burst into Vladimir’s workshop. She spent a lot of time with him tinkering on her arms or having them serviced. She let the Gatling gun fall on his workbench and then slid up to sit on the table right next to where he was working.
“You don’t scare me, y’know.”
“Oh, yeah?” Riddle said rubbing her plated shoulder. “Well, it’s good for you that I don’t have to worry about your morale wavering,” her voice lowered as she looked over her arm, “Otherwise you might sing a different tune.”
The 6’4” Russian straightened up from his work and turned to look at her. He walked his fingers up the pale, bare flesh starting from Riddle’s knee. With each word, he walked them one step further. “You are still little girl to me, even with big guns.”
Riddle inhaled sharply and pushed his hand away before his fingers could wander too high. “Cut it out.” Her voice stammered as she drew the breath in through her teeth.
Vladimir dropped his hand and laughed.
Riddle could feel her face burn red. She scowled playfully at him for making her lose her composure, “You try that one more time,” she whipped a knife from her boot and pointed it at him.
“You’ll vaht? Stick me vit your vee blade?” He smiled. “Then who help you fix arm? Huh?”
“I’d do it myself.” Her eyes narrowed.
“Ah, you can do my job now,” he turned his attention away from her, “I see. You don’t need Vladimir’s help anymore. The mighty Riddle,” she could hear the sarcasm rise in his voice as he opened a cabinet. “Can do it all by herself. Is that it? Hm?” He turned back to her. Two shot glasses in one hand and a brown, dusty jug in the other. He smiled at her.
Riddle’s eyes lit up greedily. As a walking gun, nobody wanted to be close to her, and she could not allow them to be. It was her job to keep them in line. It was her job to be a living weapon and keep them afraid of her. Not Vlad though. The randy old bastard knew her better than all that. She grinned and took a glass from him.
“Nothing vrong with your arm, girl.” He gestured to the gun as he poured a clear liquid into her glass and then his.
Riddle shrugged and swung her feet back and forth, “Captain’s orders,” she raised the glass towards Vladimir.
“Na Zdorovie,” he cheered.
Riddle tilted the glass back and emptied it into her mouth. The taste caused her face to twist. She set the glass down and then made eye contact with Vladimir. He was at least a decade older than her but still healthy and lean. “And I am not a little girl anymore, Vlad.”
“You still little girl,” he laughed. “Tell Drucilla nothing’s wrong with gun.”
“I’m supposed to get them all taken care of, oh,” Riddle smiled, “And tell you that we will not be pulling into port any time soon.”
“Ah,” Vladimir turned back towards his work, “That is real reason then. Little girl’s supposed to come down and be tough gun, is that it?”
“Aye, something like that,” Riddle slipped down from the counter. She poured them two more shots.
Vladimir was looking over each portion of her arm and did not notice Riddle waiting for him. She waited for a moment and reached out to touch him. Her hand paused in hesitation before she held her breath and laid her soft white hand on his. Vladimir’s gaze fell right to her delicate fingers and then met eye contact with her. She withdrew her hand fast and gestured to the full glasses.
Vladimir looked down at her and smiled. The way the tall tinkerer looked at Riddle stirred something inside her. He took a step towards her. She felt her heart race. Her organic arm fell back to support her as she teetered. Despite being in her early twenties, this was the closest a man ever stood next to her save when her arm was cut away years ago.
“Ah,” Vladimir leaned toward her. Riddle raised her chin up, “I see now why you don’t vant to be little anymore.” His hand reached past her and picked up the glass behind her. He reveled in the look of disappointment washing over Riddle’s fierce face.
Riddle straightened up. Her cheeks were hot. Her heart raced. She took a deep breath and slammed the shot, not waiting for the customary cheer. Vladimir laughed at how flustered he’d made her.
“It’s not funny.” Her fiery spirit erupted. “If you tell anyone—“
“I know, I know,” Vladimir gestured with his hand, “You vill kill me,” he smiled, "Always vit the killing me."
4.
Days passed seamlessly. The crew woke up and followed the same routine. Drucilla pushed the Penny Dreadful further and further out into the open waters in hopes of hunting down a Leviathan pod. If the wind did not carry them, she would fire the engines up even if it burned the little oil they had off.
The men and women became more and more prickly with their Captain. She kept giving them speeches during morning muster, trying to remind them they will be the only ones going back to Seattle with a stocked hull. The thought of full pockets meant little to the person longing to put their feet on a fixed structure and escape the confined spaces of the ship.
Drucilla stood up in the crow’s nest. She spent a lot of time up there since the ship’s temperament started to slip. It was no mystery to her what they were feeling and thinking. She had undergone longer stretches at sea than this. They all had. After so long in small quarters, even your best friends are sickening to see day after long day and they were all worried about the blackwater. It was easier to blame becalmed winds and a surly captain than it was to consider the horrible possibility suggested by the blackwater and the absence of their mighty leviathan prey.
Drucilla swept her glass over the waters. She could not see the blackwater today. Every so often it would appear on their tail, despite their efforts. Something sparkled as her glass passed over the horizon. Drucilla took a double take.
“LEVIATHAN POD!” She screamed as loud as she could as she saw the flukes of a whale splash in the distance.
The ship immediately snapped from its self-pitying melancholy at t
he mention of leviathans. The ship erupted into action. Every person seemed to move twice as fast as they usually would. Drucilla did not need to issue the command for the crew to stoke the engines. Abigail and Bard double checked the long boats. They were fully prepared long before they reached the lively pod.
All the crew members not confined below decks for their jobs pressed against the railing to see the pod appear on the horizon. It was always exciting to see the leviathan pods, but after so long in an empty sea; this was a particularly energetic viewing. Everyone was ready for action. Their weapons were in hand. Their eyes were hyper-vigilant for signs of flukes and waterspouts breaking the surface. As the massive creatures curved into view, something else appeared in the distance.
“What is that?” Abigail pointed to the dark mass on the horizon.
Drucilla’s spyglass clicked as each chamber snapped open. “Damn it!” she growled. She pounded one of her fists on the railing. The crew looked at her for an answer. Drucilla’s jaw tensed, “There is another whaling ship approaching from the opposite side of the pod.”
The crew looked at one another for a minute.
Bard broke the silence, “We better beat them then, huh?”
Drucilla did not share the same competitive excitement. She knew the costs of missing out on a hunt this far out. If the other ship drove the leviathans away, they could miss their chance altogether. Her face remained solemn as her team pulsed with energy. These were lean times, and she did not want to have to fight for hunting rights.
“ROWERS!”
Drucilla screamed at the top of her lungs as she paced to the aft end of the ship to get a better look at the competition. She did not usually employ rowers to speed up the Penny before a hunt. The thought of tiring her men out on rowing was ludicrous in a typical situation. She knew this was their chance though. It was highly unlikely for both ships to turn a leviathan.
The Penny Dreadful cruised in the water. Drucilla could not help but smirk when she saw the competition pick up speed upon seeing them. No whaling vessel was faster than her ship. The pod emerged closer to the other whaling vessel, but the Penny was gaining momentum. Drucilla watched diligently, not wanting to risk losing sight of the whales.
Abigail and Bard loaded their parties into the hunting boats early. Every man and woman rushed to get out to sea as soon as possible. They clambered into the boats tethered to the side of the ship. Drucilla was focused on the other whaling vessel and did not notice until she turned to command them.
The boats were sitting there, filled with her best men and women, hanging from the side of the ship ready for her words. Drucilla gave the order with gusto. Within moments the long boats were descending towards the water. Kalak, Riddle, and Mr. Pit joined the race on jet skis.
Drucilla watched with her spyglass as the two boats entered the pod of mutated whales. She smiled with pride as she saw the other whaling vessel deploy their team minutes after hers were already in the water. The three jet skis encircled the two hunting boats. They were fast: fully recharged from the long wait at sea. The other ship must have undergone a similar fate as they. Drucilla looked at the faces of the competition. They may not be as fast, but they focused on the hunt with the same determination as her men.
The leviathan pod was small in comparison to what they were used to stalking. Drucilla tried to count how many there were, but it was futile with the constant movement. She took note that the blackwater tainted two of them. One of the stained whales was the largest in the pod. Drucilla hoped her crew saw the black stains on the flukes and fins.
It was normal for a pod to have one massive, aggressive male guarding it. The alpha male of the group would lure predators away from the other whales. Drucilla took a deep breath and held it in her chest as she saw Abigail and Bard enter the pod and head directly to the monster leviathan.
“Shit,” Drucilla said, “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
If they brought in a leviathan tainted by the blackwater, their efforts would be for nothing. The meat was already rotten. It would be too toxic to use for anything.
Drucilla looked around her. There was no way to get a message to Abigail and Bard. She took a deep breath and tried to keep faith in her best men.
5.
Abigail looked over her shoulder. The competing whaling vessel deployed three hunting boats to their two. They were ahead of the rowers, but there were more men on the other ships, pushing them faster.
“They’re hot on our tail!” Abigail yelled to spur her crew to move faster.
The ocean churned and kicked them as they bumped over the wake caused by the massive sea creatures. So close to the ocean surface, mist flying from the sea in the mid-afternoon breeze drenched every crew member. They were almost inside of the pod when the other hunting boats caught up to them.
A stout, short man stood at the bow of the hunting boat closest to Abigail. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of him, and she tightened the grip on her harpoon. The burly man puckered his lips at her, mocking her. The back of a humpback curled out of the water next to Abigail. It was a small creature. She looked into its eyes as it turned on its side. The big black orb was beautiful, and Abigail could not help admire it for a brief second before it disappeared. As the leviathan vanished into the sea, she saw the black stains of the black water on one of its fins.
Abigail cast a look at Bard. She did not need to say anything to him. He saw there was something wrong with the look in her eyes and kept a look out for anything strange among the whales. The man leading the hunting boat next to Abigail was oblivious to the dangers of picking the wrong whale. Bard caught a glimpse of Abby smirking. She was thinking the same thing as Bard regarding the other whalers. They were less experienced than the Penny's crew. It was transparent by his cocky bravado.
Abigail tilted her harpoon towards the most significant whale. Bard acknowledged her gesture with a nod, taking note of the oil stains. In unison the crew of the Penny Dreadful changed directions within the pod, working their way past the humongous beast. Bard kept an eye on the other whaling vessels. It was important that they were not apparent about changing targets. If they could keep the other whalers pursuing the largest creature, they would increase their chances tremendously of hooking and spearing a clean leviathan before their competition did.
Abigail looked over at Bard. The two of them had worked together long enough now not to need unnecessary words. Bard sent her a subtle signal they usually used for crabbing. Her face broke out into a full smile. It was a standard maneuver used to isolate the giant crustaceans. When under the waves, if a team attacked a crab in the middle of an open field, they ran the risk of either a group from another ship stealing their hunt or having another crustacean attack them from behind. It was always best to take control of the situation, and that was what Bard and Abigail did.
Bard watched as Abigail conferred with her team. She put on a show of pursuing the magnificent, yet tainted, beast. The alpha male led Abigail and the competition to the outskirts of the pod, leaving Bard’s boat forgotten and planted right in the middle of the whales. Bard let his men rest as his team watched Abby for a while. She was magnificent. Bard knew she was faster than them, yet she kept parallel with their boat, encouraging them to push past.
The hunting boat next to Abigail bashed into hers. He laughed at her as she wobbled slightly at the bow upon impact. The man-made crude gestures at her, trying to unnerve her. Abigail did not play. She looked at the scene around her. They were about to break free from the group of whales and start the pursuit into the open waters. The competition’s boat pulled ahead, fueled by all the workforce they could muster.
Abigail tried to stifle her joy as his boat slipped in front of her and moved past her, growing closer to the alpha whale leading them from the pod. Abigail’s ship stayed within the confines of the herd while the competition stormed full speed ahead. The man conducting the other vessel looked over his shoulder. Bard could see his look of surprise to find Abigail was no longer purs
uing the leviathan with him. That’s when the monstrous creature erupted from the water’s surface. The whalers looked up in awe and anguish at the stained underside of the beast. The entire belly was black in violent contrast to its milky white flesh. Bard could see the raw, exposed muscle tissue beneath its fins where the black water ate away the top layers of whale fat.
“JACK-KNIFE THIS BITCH!” Abigail’s voice barely carried over the roar of wave and splash and wind.
The boats were too awkward to jack-knife, but her men knew exactly what she meant. Abigail grinned when her ship was able to turn with more ease than her enemy’s. She gave a sweet wave to the other whalers as her back turned on them. Bard laughed as Abigail pulled up next to him. He had tagged their target while Abby distracted the opposing team.
Kalak, Mr. Pit, and Riddle took the opportunity to create a blockade between Abigail, the other three boats, and Bard. They weaved back and forth in a line that made it difficult for the other hunting boats to maneuver around without starting a fight. Abigail and Bard were back in the game with a significant head start.
Bard pointed out the second choice whale. Abigail shook her head in decline as there were two calves by her side. The whale population was already low, she knew better. They ended up settling on a mid-sized whale. There was no time to waste. The other whalers were faster, reinvigorated by the adrenaline. It was the same for all whalers right now. There were so few catches, and at this point any leviathan they could hook and spear was worth the effort.
Abigail looked over her shoulder. One of the other boats pulled up next to Bard’s and rammed into them. Bard tried to shove the other whaler from the bow of his ship. The whaler tore at his tunic and almost pulled him into the water. Mr. Pit’s jet ski pulled up alongside the competition. Bard’s eyes followed Mr. Pit’s war hammer as it fell to smash the hunting boat. The crew captain released Bard from his grasp. Their craft dropped back as their rowers tried to put distance between them and Mr. Pit’s destructive hammer. Competing whalers often did their best to avoid outright violence, though in desperate times it had been known to break out.
Blackwater Kraken (The Dystopian Sea Book 3) Page 2