Ocean of Dust

by Graeme Ing

  A flash of white blinded her.

  The pressure about her throat had ceased. With a long and drawn out rasping noise, she gulped air. Coughing, she rolled over and sucked in cold night air. Her limbs tingled, so she shook them vigorously. When her sight returned, Alice was on all fours, teetering, blinking, and nursing a black gash on her arm. The smell of burned flesh assaulted Lissa's nostrils. Alice's hair spiked crazily, crackling as it settled.

  Alice shook her head and got awkwardly to her feet. She touched her burn, winced and withdrew her hand. She turned to leave, then whirled, grabbed Lissa around the waist and rammed her toward the ship's rail. Lissa squealed, trying to catch her footing but Alice threw her over the side. At the same time, Alice tripped on a coiled rope and tumbled after her, screaming wildly.

  Both girls plunged into the darkness.

  Lissa's mind flashed with the memory of her falling over the rail during the deluge and how she had saved herself. Her hands shot out and wrapped around one of the railing posts, snapping her body to a stop and yanking at her arms. Her grip slipped and she continued to fall, fingernails tearing at the smallest seams in the hull planking.

  Another flash of lightning illuminated a rope dangling to her right. Straining every muscle, she stretched as hard as she could, until her fingers snatched it. Please, Anjan, let it be tied to something. Once again, her body jarred to a stop. Her head snapped back and she smashed against the hull, but the rope held. Thank you, thank you. She took hold with her other hand and wrapped both legs around it. She had seen how the crew climbed ropes.

  Slowly, painfully, she heaved herself up until she could get one knee onto the edge of the deck and roll onto the safe side of the rail. She flipped around onto all fours, and peered into the dark ocean rushing by below. There was no sight or sound of Alice.

  "Help," she called out, still hoarse, her neck raw. "Alice fell overboard. Help us."

  The Klynaks would save Alice, like they had her. She rushed up and down the deck, squinting at every patch of light on the ocean surface. No Alice. No creatures.

  "Alice?" she shouted.

  Thunder rumbled across the sky, and then she heard boots thudding up the ladders behind her.

  "What's going on?" the crew chief bellowed.

  "Alice fell overboard. We have to find her. Stop the ship. Go back."

  "She can't 'ave. She's locked up," he said.

  "No, she's not. She fell and she'll drown."

  "She's quite safe, missy," he said, taking her arm gently. "You must 'ave seen something in the lightning-"

  She slapped his arm away. "No, I saw her."

  "Go below, and I'll check the rope locker."

  Two men took her by her arms and dragged her below.

  Shoulders slumped, a globelight in one hand, she crept along the low-ceilinged hallway and peered into the first storeroom. It was eerily empty. Alice's small footlocker stood among the sacks of oodspal and beans. She tiptoed to the next room, where Branda slept, her scheepa rocking gently.

  Lissa chewed her lip and dabbed her moist eyes. She relived the island flood, being ejected into the depths of the dust ocean, and the blind terror she had felt giving in to the inevitability of sucking dust into her lungs. Alice didn't deserve that. Alice didn't have the Klynaks to numb the fear and rescue her. Oh Gods, what a lonely, horrible way to die.

  She found herself outside Cook’s cabin, with no idea why. She knocked twice, heard words from within, and opened the door.

  Cook's cabin was a tiny space, barely large enough to hold a cot and dresser, but she had decorated it with framed needlepoint pictures of the crew. Lissa scanned the meticulously threaded portraits of the captain, the physiker, Farq and others. The woman herself sat upright, supported by a stack of cushions. A globelight illuminated the square of linen clamped tightly into the wooden frame that she held. Seeing Lissa, she placed the frame and needle aside, and gestured with her head to a stool roped to the bulkhead.

  "It's late, child," she said. "You should be asleep."

  Lissa perched on the stool, and rested her hands in her lap, stroking her hurt arm. Where should she begin? Cook was staring at her, so she blurted it all out.

  "Alice attacked me on deck just now. She escaped her cell, or someone let her out, but she came at me, beat me and strangled me." She turned her head left and right, allowing Cook to see the scratches and dark bruises on her throat.

  "Then she got hit by lightning, and went mad. She tried to push me overboard, but I grabbed a rope and she went over and not me. I couldn't find her." Her voice broke, and tears streamed down her face. "I tried and tried, but she sank. Alice is dead. It's all my fault."

  She sucked in a deep breath.

  "Totalamon's titties! What are you saying?" Cook passed Lissa a handkerchief. "Calm down and start again. Slowly."

  Lissa recounted every detail, sniffling and dabbing her eyes, finding it easier now that she had shared her guilt. Cook listened without interruption.

  "I have to tell Farq, don't I?" Lissa whispered.

  Cook remained silent with her mouth askew, and absent-mindedly picked at a mole on her chin.

  "By the Gods, no, child," she said. "What good would that serve? You say Alice attacked first? You didn't provoke her?"

  Lissa shook her head.

  "Then you did nothing wrong. Did anyone see you fighting?"

  Another shake.

  "So no one saw what happened."

  The woman leaned forward.

  "Alice is a nasty girl, always causing trouble. She had it coming. Now listen carefully. Are you listening?" She gave Lissa a sharp shake. "Say nothing to no one, you hear? Not even Branda. You saw Alice hit by lightning and she fell overboard. Do you hear?"

  * * *

  The moment she awoke, Lissa knew that the flux storm had passed. Her head no longer ached and, for the first time in days, she felt hungry, really hungry, and not at all nauseous. Her left arm was tender though and her throat stung.

  When she entered the galley, the heat of the ovens blazed in her face. Branda had made a start on boiling oodspal, so Lissa went to work baking the bread. The familiar routine felt good, and she tried not to dwell on the events of the night before. Several times, she crept up to Branda, ready to confess all, longing to confide in her, but every time she clamped her mouth shut and walked away.

  The enormous bulk of the crew chief ducked through the low door. He stood doubled over, his head, shoulders and back against the ceiling. Farq strode in behind him, huffing and scowling. Two men stood guard in the hallway outside.

  Lissa's heart pounded. Farq had found out. Her eyes darted around the room for somewhere to hide. There was nowhere to run and Farq's men blocked the only exit.

  "That girl, Alice, went missing last night," Farq said. "What do you know about this?"

  He addressed Cook, but his gaze settled on Lissa and Branda. Lissa scratched her chin in a guise to pull her short collar over her mutilated neck.

  "I haven't seen her since you locked her up," Cook replied, "and now I'm short-handed."

  "What about them?" He took a step toward Lissa.

  Sweat poured from her face, and she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Her guilt must be so obvious.

  "They're just cooking girls," Cook murmured.

  He crossed the room and stopped inches from Lissa's face. She cowered, conscious of the hot oven at her back and no avenue to retreat. She dropped her gaze to the floor, and her body tensed, waiting for him to grab her and drag her away.

  "You're mixed up in this, aren't you?" he said. "Trouble follows you."

  She glanced up. His eyebrows met in a fierce scowl and he clenched his jaw. She felt his hot breath on her face, and then he turned away.

  "Continue the search," he ordered.

  He paused in the doorway and glanced back at her. Then he nodded his head slowly and left. She gnawed her lower lip. What did that mean?

  Chapter 20 - Secret Meetings

  That aftern
oon, Lissa took a loaf of hot seed bread and a bowl of pastoy to Branda, who was sewing clothes in one of the storerooms. Branda looked up but said nothing, and Lissa suddenly missed her friend's easy smile and sparkling eyes, regretted being short with Branda.

  Lissa fidgeted in the doorway. Alice was dead, but Cook was right. It was Alice's fault for attacking Lissa. Alice had always been the one who started their fights. Lissa sighed. She hated keeping the dark secret between herself and Cook, but telling the truth and being beaten by Farq wouldn't bring Alice back. Besides, Lissa didn’t deserve a beating just because Alice accidentally killed herself in an attempt to murder Lissa.

  "I brought supper," she said, forcing a smile, and put the plates down beside Branda.

  "Thank you." Branda’s eyes were damp.

  Lissa knelt on the floor opposite, lifting a hand to her jagged hairline. She'd been taking her anger out on Branda, the girl who had tried so hard to help and cheer Lissa up in the eight-day since... She couldn't bear to hear the little Valinese girl cry herself to bed every night. Lissa had been a fool to ignore the best friend she'd ever had.

  "I'm so sorry," she whispered, and then kissed two of her own fingers and touched them to the end of Branda's. She squeezed her hand, her thumb pressing down on top.

  A grin spread across Branda's face like the warmth from both suns rising at once. Branda tore the loaf in half, handed one piece to Lissa and dipped hers into the spicy, creamy pastoy.

  "I glad you my friend," Branda said, and they wolfed down their snack, until only crumbs remained. Branda wiped her finger around the bowl.

  "No one find Alice today," she said, licking her fingers. "They say she fall overboard in storm. Is true?"

  Lissa nodded slowly.

  Branda cringed. "That horrible. Poor Alice. But I thought she locked up."

  "Maybe she escaped. Or someone let her out." Lissa's gaze settled on a swinging globelight. "Falling overboard is a frightening thing to experience. I feel awful, but I'm glad she isn't here."

  “I do too."

  Lissa smiled weakly. "I never told you what happened on the island during the rainstorm, did I?"

  Branda leaned forward, her brown eyes wide. "Ooh, tell me."

  In a whisper, Lissa told the entire story, from being chased by Lyndon to following them on to the mountain. Branda asked question after question about why he was after her, about Lyndon and Farq plotting, and about the navigator's book. She shivered and grimaced every time Lissa mentioned him.

  "He creepy," she muttered.

  Branda got so excited by the retelling of the weapon demonstration and the blue fire that she clung to Lissa's arm, squeezing it at every detail. Lissa, infected by her friend's keen interest, acted out her story with sweeps of her arms, and squatted between the sacks to pretend she was hiding in the dry creek. When she reached the part about the flood washing her into the stick forest, she hesitated, and wrapped up the story. Explaining the Klynaks would be too difficult right now.

  "I could have been smashed against the trunks," she concluded. "It all happened so fast. The next thing I remember was lying on the wharf."

  "How you get there?"

  Lissa shrugged and stood as a guise to avoid Branda's gaze. "I don't know. Someone must have found me."

  "Mursch!" Branda said. "You always have adventure. Never me."

  Lissa chuckled. "Sometimes adventures are more exciting, and safer, when you tell them than when you’re having them. I never dreamed the world would be so dangerous all the time."

  "What about fire weapon? How Lyndon know about it?"

  "He's up to something, and if it involves Farq we could all be in trouble. I need to tell the captain."

  Branda jumped up, stroking the wavy red and black tattoos along her forehead. "Please not do that."

  "He needs to know," Lissa said, hesitating in the doorway.

  "Not get involved. Don't make Farq mad, or he beat you. Please?"

  Lissa chewed her lip and sucked in her breath. "You're probably right."

  * * *

  The next morning, Lissa awoke well before breakfast. Preferring to go barefoot, she padded to the ladder, careful not to wake Branda or Cook, and climbed out on deck. The pre-dawn air made her shiver, but she was eager to continue with her plan to change the navigator's mind.

  First, she had set herself another task, one that was long overdue.

  A bundle of globelights hung low above one side of the deck. In their light, a handful of men gathered around a thick rod that sprouted triangular metallic plates, each caked in grey dust. Heavy chains, slack now, linked it to the nearby winch. The men's muscles bulged as they struggled with an oversized wrench to remove the last of several bolts and replace the plates with clean, shiny ones. Pete had tried to explain how the plates absorbed power from beneath the dust to move the ship, but it still didn't make any sense. Lissa envied the navigator, turning numbers and mysterious squiggles on his chart into directions for the men to steer the ship. She stared into the darkness, imagining the satisfaction of negotiating the ocean of dust to arrive at a tiny island in the middle of nowhere. That was amazing.

  She shivered again and turned her back on the men, crossing to the opposite rail. There, she moved as far aft as possible, right up against the infirmary wall. The dull sky erupted into orange with the first rays of Eldrar. Bronze bands streaked across the ocean and blazed upon her, making her squint. Despite the beauty of the morning, she heaved a sigh and opened her sack, pulling out a handful of her cut hair. Its color matched the sunrise. She nodded once at her choice of moment, took a deep breath, and cast her hair over the side. Leaning out, she watched it drift behind and down, settling briefly on the surface of the dust before sinking. She continued until every last strand was gone.

  She felt renewed. Free.

  The deed done, she joined the apprentices on the forward deck, finding them chattering in hushed voices. The first time she came to watch, they were visibly nervous, shooting her puzzled looks behind Mampalo's back. Today, a flurry of waves and smiles greeted her. The sighting device looked fascinating and she itched to try it, but knew Mampalo would never let her.

  "Good morning," he said, touching her shoulder as he marched past. "Quick as we can this morning, lads. Jeffsa, you first."

  She stayed long enough to watch their familiar ritual of aligning the device to Eldrar on the horizon, and then Eldap, high in the sky. Each boy called out a trio of numbers. Rarely did they ever all agree. The exercise ended with Mampalo taking his own readings, which he then called to the command deck in a strong, clear voice.

  That was her cue to hurry back to the galley, knowing she was already late. Branda made excuses for her, but Cook was suspicious. Lissa didn't dare risk continuing her pre-dawn adventures, even though she wanted to stay longer. She smiled to herself as she ran aft. Everything was set for the next stage of her plan.

  Silhouettes lurked in the hallway beside Farq's office. Nib whispered to someone inside the room that was always locked.

  "Take a dozen and hide 'em about the ship," he said. "Do it nice an' quiet. Hide 'em good."

  "What if someone suspects?" the voice in the room hissed.

  "They won't. No one has the slightest idea what we're up to."

  He glanced her way.

  "'Ere, who's that?"

  She darted out of sight and heavy footfalls headed toward her. Her gaze flicked around the open deck. She'd never make it to the nearest hatch. If she fled behind the winches, they'd find her before she could hide. Beside her, the closed door to Farq's office slid open along the bulkhead. His boot came into view.

  She choked back a cry. No time left.

  She squeezed into the tiny gap between the door and the bulkhead, but there was no room to crouch. She held her breath, afraid it would rattle the door less than an inch from her nose.

  Nib erupted from the hallway and skidded to a stop just a foot away. He scanned the deck and picked at his scraggly black beard. She gagged at the
stench of his body odor.

  "What're you doing?" Farq asked him.

  At the sound of his voice, she flinched and brushed the door. She froze.

  "Nothing, Deck Master, sir," Nib replied. He dipped his head and returned down the hallway.

  She waited several long moments until Farq returned to his office, and then she sucked in a huge breath and slipped from her hiding place. She collided with the physiker.

  "Why, Lissa, what are you-?"

  "Can I speak to you alone, please?" she whispered and tugged him by his arm toward the infirmary.

  He followed, his cane making a staccato tapping on the deck. He closed the door behind them.

  "Whatever's wrong?" he asked. "Why were you hiding-?"

  "Something's going on," she began in a rushed whisper, squeezing his arm. "Twice now, I've heard the crew plotting, and I just saw Nib and someone else in that room, you know the one that has a lock on it, and-"

  "Slow down."

  "They're up to something."

  "Who? What?"

  She let go of his arm and plopped down on a cot bed. "Nib. He's getting others to join him. They talked about hiding things about the ship."

  The physiker studied her over his spectacles, and then raised a single eyebrow. "I'm sure you misunderstood. I expect they're planning an illicit game of Bandit or something."

  "Shouldn't we tell the captain?"

  He shook his head. "He won't like being disturbed."

  She stared into his stern face. What if he was a part of Nib's plot? She nibbled her lip. That didn't sound at all like him. Now she was letting her imagination run wild.

  "I'm sure you're right," she replied, and turned to leave. "I'm sorry I bothered you."

  His gaze on her back made her neck hairs tingle.

  Indar was fully above the horizon, and she was very late. She raced below, expecting a scolding from Cook and a day full of extra chores.

  * * *

  Over the next few evenings, she spent most of her free time down in the ship's hold. The dark, cramped space no longer frightened her. She had constructed a simple bench out of loose timber and empty crates. In the dull glow of a cracked globelight, she practiced the complex calculations from Mampalo's book. She had returned it to him, but every page was clear in her mind as if it lay in front of her.