Phoenix Rising

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Phoenix Rising Page 4

by Bryony Pearce


  “You’re forfeiting?” Toby hesitated and Dee nodded, reversing the blade so that the pommel faced Toby. “It’s yours.”

  Toby’s hand closed on the rounded handle. He gave an experimental swish and Polly whistled.

  “Ha, I believe your parrot’s impressed.” Dee laughed. “It’s just like your belt knife really.” She guided his hand. “Callum can give you pointers next time you have combat training with him.”

  Toby nodded, eyes bright. “This is brilliant.” The blade winked at him in the sunlight; Dee had polished it to a high shine. The pommel was wrapped in leather. Toby lifted the blade to see it more closely. “Is this…?”

  “A phoenix. Well, the best picture of a phoenix I could do with a chisel.” Dee laughed.

  “It’s wonderful. It really looks like a phoenix should.” The tail feathers swooped around from the blade into the pommel and the head was held high, beak pointing up to the point of the sword. “She’s wonderful.”

  Uma nodded sagely. “Will you give her a name?”

  “A name?” Toby blinked.

  “Every great weapon has a name. Ask the captain if you don’t believe me.”

  “Like what?” Toby frowned at his sword. “Betty?”

  Dee folded in half. “No,” she said when she had stopped laughing. “Like Excalibur, Mjölnir…”

  “Or Siegfried’s Nothung,” Uma put in. “Although I quite like Betty.”

  Dee glared. “I’ll have her back first.”

  Toby stroked the blade. “How about … Nix. Short for Phoenix.”

  “Nix.” Dee tilted her head. “Which means: ‘to make something become nothing’. I like it.”

  “And in my own country,” Uma smiled, “a nix was a water spirit. It’s a wonderful name, Toby.”

  Toby couldn’t take his eyes from the sunlight glimmering on the sword blade. He twirled it. “Nix,” he said. “She’s perfect.” He tore his eyes from his prize to look at Dee. “Thank you, Dee.”

  The captain burst through the hatch beside him, propelling Polly skyward.

  “That salvage,” he roared, looking for Toby. When his eyes fell on his son, they gleamed. “That salvage is … wonderful. Enough fuel left in her to get the old engine running for a while and some excellent machine parts. Suitcases full of clothes and –” his beard split in a wide grin – “best of all, she was a Médecins Sans Frontières plane.” The crew cheered and Toby breathed out with a blend of relief and joy. “They must have been taking medical supplies to one of the principalities after the war. They had vaccines, penicillin, bandages, painkillers, anaesthetics. There’s stuff I haven’t even heard of.”

  Uma was already moving when the captain gestured at her. “The crew is stacking it up below for you, Uma. When you’ve catalogued it, let me know what we’ve got.”

  “Penicillin,” she whispered. “Anaesthetic.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything we don’t need. Anything we can trade,” the captain shouted, as she disappeared below. Then he turned to Toby. “The team is pumping fuel into the lines right now. Well done, son. You found us a grand prize. Cheers for Toby.”

  The crew around him raised their voices.

  Then the captain lifted a hand. “We have enough fuel to make our objective, so it’s time to tell you. The old man we traded with at the last port gave me the location of solar panels.”

  “Solar panels,” Toby breathed.

  “Yes, there’s a whole cargo container full. The ship went down before the riots, before all the solar panels on land were smashed. No one bothered salvaging it at the time, because the panels were useless without the sun. Now the sun’s back. The old man knew where his captain’s ship went down, but hadn’t the resources to go back for it, so he was willing to trade his notes on her location.”

  “With solar panels, we can fit the Phoenix so she goes and goes.” Toby couldn’t resist a small cheer.

  “That’s right. No more reliance on salvage, no more slow sailwork, no more scrabbling for engine fuel. We’ll be unstoppable.”

  “It would change everything.” Toby looked around at the ship as if seeing her for the first time. He pictured a solar array on deck, reflecting the sun like a piece of trapped sky, and imagined electric lights blinking inside her dingy passageways. He stared at his hands, closing his palm around the black lines that told his story – he couldn’t recall ever seeing his hands clean. No more brushing soot out of the boiler. No more pressure to seek the dwindling combustible junk they needed to keep the boiler running. And who knew what they would find in deeper waters? Acid-free salt, fish that hadn’t been poisoned…

  “Then we can search for the island,” Dee added.

  “That’s right.” The captain nodded.

  “The island!” Crocker snorted from the back of the group. “Bah, it’s a myth.”

  The captain shook his head. “I don’t think it is a myth. When Yellowstone erupted there were several landmasses that rose from the seas and sunk back again, but some of the larger ones remained. We’ve all heard of the atolls that ringed Hawaii.”

  The crew nodded.

  “Then what’s so strange about a whole island rising and not sinking back?”

  “It’s a children’s story,” Crocker sneered. “No one’s ever found it.”

  “It’s real,” the captain snapped. “A whole island, untouched by man, with its own natural resources, free of governments and their military Greymen.”

  “You just want it to be real,” Crocker suggested.

  The captain raised his hands. “What do we do if we’re not looking for the island, Crocker? Sail aimlessly our whole lives, hiding from Greymen, slinking from port to port? The island is our goal. If you don’t like it, I can put you and your brother in at the next stop and you can take berth in another ship. The Banshee perhaps.”

  Toby’s heart rose. Were they about to get rid of Crocker and his terrible brother?

  Crocker disappointed him. “We can’t stay any time on land. You know that, Captain. We’re wanted men, me an’ Peel. An’ we like the Phoenix, she’s a solid berth.” Crocker patted the railing absently. “We’re useful to you, ain’t we? My brother’s the best cook you ever ’ad. An’ he saved your life, way back when.”

  “Then get on board, Crocker.” The captain lowered his head. “We’re going for the solar panels and once they’re installed, we’ll be putting all our resources into searching for the island. We’ll sail deeper into the ocean than we ever have and further from any port. We’ll comb the seas until we find it. Then we’ll settle down. That’s the aim of the Phoenix and that’s what we’re going to do.”

  “Here, here,” Marcus raised his voice and the rest of the pirates joined him.

  Toby couldn’t resist. “The island!” he cried, mainly to annoy Crocker.

  Toby hadn’t been off the Phoenix since he first boarded, when he was four years old. He had no idea what it would be like to live on land, couldn’t imagine how it would be living without the sea beneath his feet and … he looked around. Who was he supposed to settle down with? When they got to the island, he would be the only person his age. His eyes flicked to Rita. Almost eight years older than he was, she was the nearest. But despite her infectious childish giggle, he knew she saw him as a kid.

  A gust of wind hit them and Toby inhaled the scent of clean air. Then a shout shattered the crew’s celebratory mood. Old Arnav was waving urgently from the crow’s nest. Toby followed his pointing arm and his jaw dropped. A false twilight was behind them, and it was gaining fast. The dark sky was broken by lightning so bright that Toby’s eyeballs seared with each flash. The storm was almost upon them.

  “There must be a bloody hurricane up there for it to be moving so fast,” the captain yelled. “Get the sails down, Carson, or we’ll lose them.” He turned to Toby. “We need the paddles, son. Fast as you can.”

  “What about the old engines?” Toby was already running for the hatch, Polly gliding at his side. “I can start them up
.”

  “The fuel won’t be filtered in time. Focus on the paddles. We can still outrun this, but we have to get some speed on now.”

  FOUR

  Toby tossed an armful of compressed fuel into the burner and flicked some switches on the control panel.

  “Are you sure about this?” Polly swayed from side to side on her perch. “You haven’t found the problem yet.”

  “Whatever it is, it didn’t stop us reversing.” Toby closed his hands around the lever that would open the main delivery lines to the paddles. “I’ll get us moving then give her a full work-up.” He yanked the lever, which moved smoothly into position, then stepped back to listen as steam sped from the drum into the lines.

  Hissssss.

  Toby’s back straightened. His eyes widened.

  “Oh, hells.”

  “Toby, it’s the—”

  “I know.”

  He leaped to pull back on the lever, too late. Four-hundred-degree steam reached the forward delivery line, but it didn’t continue along the snaking pipes. Instead, the pressure forced a tiny rupture and steam geysered into the boiler room.

  Lungs screaming, Toby backed up and covered his face with his sleeve. For a moment, panic erased everything else. His mind was blank.

  “Toby.” The speaker crackled. “We aren’t moving. Is everything all right?” The captain was obviously putting some effort into seeming calm.

  “Polly want a cracker! Polly want a cracker!” Polly wheeled around the ceiling fans, trying to keep away from the insane heat.

  Finally Toby moved. He grabbed the lever, which was now a bar of scalding metal. It burned even through the leather of his half gloves and he cried out, but held on. He had to cut the supply to the delivery lines.

  The boiler room was swiftly filling with steam. Toby’s goggles fogged and sweat pricked every bit of his skin. He released the lever with one hand to lift his scarf over his face then went back to pulling, but the lever didn’t want to move – the steam was putting too much pressure on the valve.

  “I can’t do it!” Toby ground his teeth.

  “Call the captain,” Polly shrieked. “Get help.”

  “There’s no time! The boiler will be drained.” Toby threw his head back, pulling frantically. The lever still did not move. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders tearing, but didn’t stop.

  “You’ve got to call him, this isn’t working.”

  Toby saw a blur as Polly flew down. He felt her claws on his fingers. She was trying to help him push. His feet slipped as steam dampened the floor and he jammed his toes beneath the lever base, trying to regain purchase. “If it empties, even a trickle of feed water will cause an explosion that’ll take out the hull.”

  “What about your father’s buffering system?” Polly flapped her wings, clearing steam briefly from Toby’s face. “He can shut off the passageways.”

  “It’s not enough. We’ve got to move this lever ourselves.”

  Toby strained until his muscles popped, but he knew he couldn’t move the lever alone.

  “Can I help?”

  Toby’s head whipped round at the unfamiliar voice. He released the lever long enough to wipe his goggles; then he gaped.

  A kid was standing there. Smaller than him, a few years younger, dressed in thin clothes completely inappropriate for seafaring. The boy’s head was badly shaved and tufts of black hair stuck up in every direction. He was grey with soot, from his eyelashes to his fingernails, and he was cringing from the heat of the steam.

  “A stowaway.” Toby grabbed the lever again. “You’ve been hiding out in my boiler room. How…?” He gave his head a quick shake. “I don’t care. Wrap your shirt around your hands, grab this lever and pull.”

  The strange boy covered his hands with his tattered cuffs, closed his fists below Toby’s and hauled.

  “It’s moving, don’t let go.” Polly flapped, helping as much as she could. Suddenly the lever dropped back into position, cutting off the steam’s flow.

  As the whistling quietened, Toby pulled his goggles off his face and stared at the rupture.

  “Ashes,” he muttered.

  “Toby, the paddles!” The captain’s voice was urgent now. Toby grabbed the comms tube, not taking his eye from the stranger who had saved them.

  “Captain,” he swallowed, “a delivery line ruptured. It must’ve happened when the Phoenix was hit during the salvage.”

  There was silence from the speaker. Toby fidgeted. “Captain?”

  “I’m thinking,” the captain snapped. “Did you cut it off in time, has the boiler run dry?”

  “I’ll check.” The new boy ran to the water gauge. “It’s reading a third full. That isn’t enough, is it?”

  “How did you know to do that?” Toby covered the comms tube as he spoke.

  The boy shrugged awkwardly. “Been watching you. Sorry.”

  “Watching me from where?” Toby shuddered. He thought of the boiler room as an extension of himself. Shouldn’t he have known that he wasn’t alone? Shouldn’t Polly have detected the stowaway?

  The boy indicated what at first appeared to be a haphazard pile of junk: car bonnets, motherboards, sheet metal, tubing. Toby’s hoard of ‘things that might be useful one day’. He realized that it had been moved since he had last sorted through, creating a hidden nest. Above the nest the air vent was ajar. Toby blinked, remembering. Years ago he used to slip inside the gratings and travel through the vents, spying on the pirates with no one any the wiser. The captain had put a stop to his travels when, at eight years old, Toby got stuck and had to be cut out of the mess-hall wall. Now those passages were the sole province of the rats and, apparently, a half-starved stowaway.

  He exhaled. “OK. I can’t deal with this now.”

  Toby uncovered the tube to address the captain. “It hasn’t run dry, but there’s not enough feed water. I-I’ll have to switch the boiler off to let it build back up. And the line has to be repaired.”

  “The Phoenix can’t just sit here,” the captain said.

  Toby imagined his father’s fist almost collapsing the table. From the dents in the metal tabletop Toby could map every setback the Phoenix had ever experienced. “If she can’t outrun the storm, we have to get to shelter to weather it out. There’s a hidden cove near Tarifa that’ll take a ship our size.”

  “What about the plane fuel?” Toby slid a finger under his goggles to rub his eyes. “Is it ready yet?”

  “Not even close. It’s still being filtered into our tanks. Dobbs is working his team as fast as he can, but I need all hands on deck right now, so he has a skeleton crew. We can’t use the sails in this weather – they’d be ripped to shreds. Get that boiler fixed and I’ll put more men to pumping the fuel. I’ll leave the sails up till it gets dangerous. If that boiler isn’t running by then, we’re sitting ducks.”

  Toby hung up the tube then stood stock-still. The boiler was never switched off. Ever. Even in port, a small fire was maintained to keep her low-power systems going. There was only one way to turn the boiler off. He was going to have to put out the Phoenix’s fire.

  Toby unhooked the blackened fire extinguisher from the wall by the door. With his thumb he rubbed rust from the corroded pin as he strode towards the combustion chamber.

  “Stand back,” he said to the boy. Then Toby aimed the extinguisher, yanked the pin and squeezed. Noxious white foam spread over the flames and slowly but surely the Phoenix’s heart went cold.

  Together the boys stood and watched the embers go out. Combustion fuel broke into small pieces as it cooled and the boiler ticked solemnly.

  “OK,” Toby said. “Right.” He felt off balance. The whole sound of the Phoenix had been thrown out. “OK,” he repeated.

  Polly climbed on to his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek.

  The strange boy put his hand on Toby’s arm, making him jump. “What do you need to do to fix this?” Big brown eyes stared up at him and Toby exhaled.

  “I haven’t got anyt
hing I can use to repair the delivery line that won’t just break or melt as soon as the steam hits it. I need a new line.”

  “Have you got one?” the boy asked.

  Toby’s mouth twisted. “Sort of,” he murmured.

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Sort of?”

  “The captain’s been looking to trade for spares for a couple of months. There is only one other line on board that’s long enough.”

  “And you can’t get it?”

  “Technically I can.” Toby rubbed his eyes again.

  “Technically? What does that mean?”

  Toby sighed. “It means nothing is ever simple.”

  The boy lost his footing and grabbed at the feed-water tubes as he fell.

  “The sea’s getting rough.” Toby braced his legs and offered a hand to pull the boy to his feet. Then he began undoing the screws on one end of a delivery line that disappeared into the wall. “What do I call you?” He tilted his head as he worked, examining the small stowaway.

  “My name is Sorahiko,” he mumbled. “They call me Hiko.”

  Toby nodded. “You’re Japanese.”

  Hiko shrugged. “My father, yes – not my mother.”

  “Well, there’re not many questions on the Phoenix – just what you’re wanted for and where. The captain puts back murderers and rapists, but most others get to stay if there’s a space.”

  Hiko looked away. “Do you really think he’ll let me stay? I’m not going to be much use. I’m just a kid.”

  “You’ve been useful already and I need you right now.” Toby dropped the loosened line and gestured to a shovel by the door. “You’ll have to empty the combustion chamber for me. Open the porthole, get all that foamed-up fuel out and dump it. Then refill the burner with the dry compressed chunks, over there.” He pointed. “Keep an eye on that feed-water gauge so you can tell me how high the levels are. As soon as I get back we can relight the boiler. It’s going to take a while to get a head of steam built up. I just hope we’ve got enough time.”

  “So, I’m going to be your assistant?”

 

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