Ocean of Dust

by Graeme Ing

  "Try again," the captain said, dragging her back into the moment.

  She sighed, rolled face down and reluctantly lowered her hands into the grey dust. Her head pounded so hard she could barely think, but there was definitely a pattern to the tingling, needle-like stabs. They seemed to pull to the left.

  "A little to port and forward some more," she said, and counted twenty sweeps of the oars. "Stop."

  New sensations rippled up her arms. The pain that banged on the inside of her skull moved from the front to the rear of her head. What did that mean?

  The boat bobbed idly in the gentle waves.

  "Forward some more."

  "This is stupid," Sawall said.

  "Aye," Jancid agreed. "Sir, put a stop to this nonsense. She'll 'ave us rowing all over-"

  "Lower the vanes another six feet," she snapped.

  They couldn't stop now. She was sure something was happening. All she needed was more time to experiment. The chains rattled as Sawall and Grad cranked the winch. Pain lanced through her head, and she screamed. Then she vomited over the side, and slid into the bottom of the boat, clenching her abdomen and moaning as she rolled about.

  * * *

  She tasted water, hot but sweet. It soothed as it trickled down her parched throat. Her gaze settled on Coy, who fanned her face with his cap. He pressed the mug into her hands and helped her up.

  "You did it," he said with a smile.

  A dull ache persisted in her forehead, but the pangs in her stomach were hunger not nausea. Both suns had crossed the zenith, which meant she had been unconscious for a bell or two. She missed the reassuring regularity of the ship's bell. She sat up and blinked hard at the wake streaming behind the boat. The ride was smooth, and significantly faster than rowing.

  The captain moved forward to join them. She scanned his weathered face for any emotion, some kind of sign of his thoughts. His clay pipe belched smoke as he contemplated her back. She glanced at the men behind him. Sawall and Grad looked at her like she was some kind of monster, while Jancid picked at his white beard and shook his head. She took another sip of water.

  "How long 'till we reach the island?" Sawall asked, his gaze flicking between her and the captain, as if he didn't know whom to ask.

  "I don't know," she said. "I don't know how fast we're going."

  "A little more than a league a bell, I reckon," Jancid said.

  "Six days then," the captain said. "Assuming the flux continues to run in our favor."

  She made mental marks on the navigator’s chart, remembering a bold line running parallel to the ship's course. She was certain that line meant stronger flux. Were they north or south of that line? North. Their current course would intercept it, but they needed to cut in sharper or the journey would take longer than they had water. She chewed her lip. Cutting the corner between the two flux currents might leave them stranded in the middle. She rubbed her eyes. It was all too much. She couldn't do what the navigator did.

  No one wanted to leave the flux line now that she had discovered it.

  "It's our only chance to get to the island in under six days," she told them.

  "Or get lost in the middle," Sawall said. "You'll kill us all."

  "She found it once, I bet she can find it again," Coy said, hand on her shoulder.

  "We follow her plan," the captain said. "It makes sense. I expect you to explain every decision, every thought that you have, girl."

  She nodded vigorously, and ignored the savage glare Sawall gave her. He adjusted the chains on the winch, and the boat veered to port.

  "We're slowing down," he cried. "We're gonna have to row again."

  Holding her breath, she watched the dust flowing past the boat. Don't stop. Don't stop. They slowed to less than half speed, but continued forward. She stared out ahead of the boat, but of course, there was no indication on the ocean surface of the forces at work beneath. How long would it take them to reach the other flux line, or would they fall short?

  The day wore on. She regularly dipped her hands to sense the strength of the flux. The boat had slowed to a crawl but it hadn't stopped. At suns-set she made their supper, as much to occupy herself during the endless waiting as to quell the hunger pangs. The beans had been sitting in hot water all day. They weren't heated all the way through, but cooked enough to eat, though chewy and bland, and she was thankful that Grad had thought to add dried meat into the mix earlier in the day. Everyone gathered around and helped themselves, using their hands as spoons and bowls. The meal felt like a feast, and put an end to the men's continual grumbling. The captain lit his pipe, creating a tiny pulse of light in the near darkness.

  "What'll happen to Farq and the others?" she asked.

  "Totey'll take them to an early grave," Jancid snarled. There was a chorus of ayes.

  "They'll get picked up and arrested," the captain said.

  "Then what?"

  "The punishment for mutiny is death."

  She gasped. "What about Branda? Not everyone aboard is guilty. Most of them had no choice."

  He took several puffs on his pipe.

  "That's up to the naval tribunal." His eyes twinkled in the silvery light of Medepo. "I'm sure your friend and Madam Margaret will be fine. Women don't hang."

  She thought of Pete and the physiker, but said nothing.

  Depressed by the conversation, she returned to the prow. Colors flickered across the surface all around the boat. Despite its dreary blandness during the day, she loved how the ocean transformed into something magical after dark. With a sigh, she thrust her arms back in. The dust still carried the day's warmth.

  With no warning, she imagined insects burrowing under her skin, crawling up her arms and scratching on her bones. A heavy weight pressed on her forehead, making her eyes ache. Crying out, she pulled her hands out and rubbed her arms together, trying to brush away the crawling things.

  "What's she doin' now?" Grad asked, and they all turned to watch her.

  She studied her trembling arms. They were bare. Nothing crawled on them.

  "It's here," she mumbled.

  "What is?"

  "Where?" The men peered around the boat.

  Two shimmering captains faced her, wavering in sync with the pulsing in her head. She blinked furiously until she only saw one.

  "The flux line,” she said. “It's right here. We've got to turn before we go past."

  "Sawall, the winch," the captain said. "Which way, girl?" He shook her by the shoulders.

  She swallowed hard and pointed off the starboard side. The chains clattered in the winch, and the boat veered in that direction.

  "We're slowing down," Jancid cried.

  "She's messed us all up," Sawall added. "We should turn back."

  He cranked the winch.

  "No," she said. "Lower, the vanes need to go deeper. Slowly."

  The captain met her gaze and held it for a long moment. "Do it."

  The chains clicked, one link at a time. Nobody breathed. The boat moved faster, the light swishing of the dust against the hull growing louder. Faster. Soon, the bow wave threatened to wash into the boat.

  "Totalamon's titties!" Jancid said. "If we keep this up, we'll be there in half the time."

  "We're going to make it," Coy cried.

  The captain nodded at her once and looked away. "Give her water and cheese. Then you'd better get some sleep, girl."

  "We mustn't overshoot the island," she said.

  "Two man watches. Stay alert."

  * * *

  She settled into a forced routine throughout the next three days. The men let her doze until the boat slowed and then they shook her awake. At times, she quickly found a strong flux channel and the boat picked up its pace, at others, the men reluctantly manned the oars, muttering constantly about their imminent doom. She never let them down for long but not once did they praise her, but at least they had stopped glaring at her all the time.

  Her head pounded even as she rested, and after throwing up aga
in on the second day, she resorted to nibbling a handful of food a day. At night, she tossed and turned and woke from nightmares of their skeletons drifting forever, sweating and her pulse racing. Coy adopted her as his patient, dribbling water into her mouth and mopping her brow. She spent her time staring at the bottom of the boat, and didn't want to look at the dust ever again. Why had she ever wanted to be a navigator?

  On the morning of the third day that felt like the hundredth, she huddled in the bottom of the boat, listening to the chatter of the men, when Grad cried out.

  "Land! There, over there."

  Chapter 25 - Into the Forest

  Everyone jumped up and peered toward the brown and green smudge on the horizon, cheering and clapping each other on the shoulder. The boat rocked violently. Smiles filled every face, even the captain's. The men stowed the flux vanes and rowed so excitedly the captain ordered them to slow down and not overheat. A light-hearted bickering ran constantly, discussing distance and time remaining, as well as speculation on what they would find. Enjoying a respite from the dust, Lissa sat back exhausted, and listened to their laughter, the first she had heard since the mutiny.

  The captain took long turns at the oars to give each man a rest. Inspired by his leadership, she gritted her teeth against the throbbing in her head, and served a mug of precious water and a handful of food to each man.

  The next time she looked up, the island filled her view. She gasped. A narrow beach fronted a thick jungle of green and yellow trees. Beyond, a meadow of grass sloped steeply to the base of a vertical face of bare rock which rose high above the island to form a flat-top, very different to the conical mountain of Us-imyan.

  The boat bucked and tossed as they passed through a gap in the outer reef. Submerged rocks threw blankets of grey dust into the air, which fell like a fine mist with an incessant hissing noise.

  "Watch out," she cried, as the boat surged toward a jagged rock. She gripped her bench with both hands.

  At the last moment, Sawall thrust his oar against it and pushed them away. The boat spun around, moving backward, caught in a hidden current dragging them toward the beach. She tried to stay out of the way, as they fought to turn around, rowing one way then the other, miraculously avoiding rocks that threatened to smash the boat. A ragged section of reef appeared inches from her face.

  "Rock," she warned.

  It was too late. The boat rolled sideways, and the spiked rock stabbed through the gunwale, narrowly missing her leg. There was the horrific sound of tearing wood. The boat pulled free and dust flowed into it like her mother pouring flour into a bowl.

  "Row for the beach," the captain shouted. "Give it all you've got."

  "We ain't gonna make it," Sawall said. "We're sinking."

  It was incredible how fast the dust filled the boat, smothering their supplies. She grabbed one of the sacks and tried to wedge it into the hole.

  "Good thinking, girl," Grad said, huffing and yanking his oars repeatedly. "You and Coy, start bailing."

  Using both hands, she scooped as fast as she could, but didn't dare dump their meager supplies to free up a container. Much of the dust trickled through her fingers, but at least she could help while the men rowed for their lives. They pulled the oars so hard she wondered how they didn't snap.

  An almighty smash jarred the boat, knocking her out of her seat. Her head cracked against the side and she slid into the dust-filled bottom, unconscious.

  * * *

  Lissa lay stretched out with warmth at her back.

  "She'll be all right. Just a bump and not much blood." It sounded like Grad.

  "Good," the captain said. "I think we'd be adrift and dead without her. How's the boat?"

  "Useless, but at least we got it ashore. Thanks to the girl, we saved the food and water. The flux vanes are bent and broken. How in Totey's name did she get us here? I've never seen anything like it."

  She heard crunching footsteps, as if in sand.

  "This place has little of use," Sawall said. "Abandoned Sunturns ago. Looks like they'd started making a boat but never finished. There's some flux vanes and whatnot behind the other building."

  "Other castaways perhaps," the captain said. "Maybe they were rescued."

  She heard Sawall sit. "'Fraid not. I found three skeletons just inside the jungle."

  She opened her eyes to the orange glow of a campfire, the flickering flames sending shadows scurrying across stone walls. Stars blazed in the sky above. She lay on red sand, much coarser than the grey dust. Sitting up, she looked around the empty shell of a building in which they sat, with crumbled walls and no roof or door. Rubble and timber lay strewn about. Out back of the building stood the sinister, black shapes of trees, the firelight playing tricks of the light on their gnarled bark.

  The men huddled around the fire, conferring in quiet voices interrupted by the cracking and spitting of the burning wood, and a cacophony of squawks and hoots, tapping noises and other cries from deep in the jungle. She scanned the tree line, convinced creatures watched her from the bushes, creeping nearer. She shivered despite the fire.

  "Supper's up," Coy announced. He spooned a steaming mixture of oodspal and beans into empty pwam-fruit husks, handing them out with hunks of stale bread.

  She took hers last, tired of their diet of half-cooked oodspal and beans. She didn't want to eat them ever again, but her growling stomach changed her mind.

  "I'm sorry I didn't cook," she said. "You should've woken me."

  Coy grinned. "You were flat out exhausted. Feeling better?"

  Her headache was gone. "Much better. Thank you." She tore into the bread, using it to scoop up the bean slop.

  After everyone else had eaten seconds, the captain cleared his throat. He held up an opaque wine flask, removed the seal and sniffed carefully. He took a sip, choked and then grimaced.

  "Drinkable," he said in a pained voice, and raised it toward Grad. "Good find. Two bottles. Unless you've hidden the rest for yourself? And if you have, the Gods help your stomach."

  The men guffawed, and she gave a weak smile. Aboard ship, the captain had been aloof and commanding, and it surprised her to witness his banter with his crew. She glanced from one face to the next. They clearly showed him great affection and respect.

  He raised the bottle once more.

  "To my crew, tiny though it is." Another ripple of laughter. "You have performed your duties admirably under the harshest of conditions."

  He drank again, and coughed. He turned to Lissa and his brown eyes flared orange in the firelight. She tensed.

  "And you, girl. You didn't abuse my trust. We owe you our lives." He handed the bottle around while the men cheered.

  Jancid offered her the bottle but she waved her hand.

  "Try it. Make ya' beard grow." More laughter.

  She wiped the bottle with her sleeve and took the tiniest of sips, remembering the hossiw at the festival. The wine had a soft, buttery taste, which wasn't unpleasant until she swallowed and it set fire to her throat. She coughed, hacked, and spluttered, handing the bottle back, and then she nibbled some bread to soak up the alcohol.

  "All right, lads," the captain said, and the men fell silent. "We're not out of danger yet. We've less than two days of water, so that's our first job tomorrow, to find more. Food will be easier. Then we need a plan to get us off this island. We've plenty of materials and even flux vanes. Drink up, and then get some sleep."

  Lissa nestled into the warm sand, molding a heap into a pillow. The skeletons that Sawall had mentioned played in her mind, jangling and dancing with the shadows along the walls. Had those people died from lack of water, or had something terrible crept out of the jungle? Glad she wasn't the closest to the trees, she closed her eyes.

  * * *

  She jerked awake in the pre-dawn grey, her body clock used to the shipboard routine. The embers in the fire still glowed. She stretched her stiff muscles, got up and stoked the fire with fresh sticks. Grunts and snores surrounded her so she work
ed quietly. Sawall sat on a collapsed wall at the rear of the ruined building. He faced the forest, but his head lay in his folded arms. She woke him with a gentle shake. His eyes focused on her and then he glanced toward the captain.

  "They're all asleep," she whispered.

  He scratched his bald head and stretched his neck and arms. "Thanks."

  She gathered the pwam-fruit bowls from the night before, but after scrutinizing their meager stash of water, she cleaned them using the sand as an abrasive. She imagined she looked a frightful mess. Her unwashed hair was matted and full of sand, and her shirt and skirt were filthy with dried sweat and vomit. When they found water, she intended to have a long bath.

  Sawall woke the others, and she served a simple breakfast. Blisters and flaky skin covered the men's lips, and probably hurt as much as hers. They ate in a solemn silence, the revelry from the night before long gone. When the first rays of suns-rise blazed across the beach, the captain cleared his throat.

  "We must find water today. Ours will be gone by tomorrow. This island isn't a hydro-mountain but the vegetation is thick, so there must be surface water, perhaps a spring or a stream."

  The physiker had told her about vast underground lakes that formed when water sank to the bottom of the dust, rising back to the surface under land.

  "We should stick together," Grad said. "There'll be wild animals."

  "Ordinarily, yes," the captain replied, "but we need to cover ground quickly. We'll split into pairs. Take a bucket and a knife. Meet back here as soon as you find water, or at suns-set."

  "And if we don't find any?" Jancid asked.

  The captain looked at the old sailor long and hard. "Take Coy and head along the beach that way. Sawall, you and Grad try the forest. Girl, you come with me."

  He selected a knife with a serrated edge, handed her a bucket, and started along the beach. She scampered after him, her feet sinking deep into the heavy, red sand, chilling her toes.

  Inside the forest, a myriad of insects buzzed from tree to tree, weaving and diving. Bizarre creatures that resembled floating balls moved among them. They drifted aimlessly, with slender tendrils dangling below their bloated bodies. Then, without reason they spun, whirling the tendrils around them, and soared up into the branches. The captain pointed out a pair of slit-eyed creatures watching them from a high branch, their noses in constant motion and their long black and red tails twitching.