Flotsam

by R J Theodore

  “Only place our ocean stops us from going is Nexus.”

  Scrimshaw turned xist head, as if xe could see through the cloud toward the center of the world. “Your ocean is peculiar.”

  “Since your ship arrived, we’ve heard you find a lot about our world peculiar,” she said. She didn’t mean to sound defensive, but the point of this conversation escaped her, and her mind was out of energy to spend imagining distant worlds and what it would be like to live on the outside of a spinning ball, as Scrimshaw told her was ‘normal.’

  “It is an anomaly among the stars,” Scrimshaw agreed. “Most fascinating.”

  Talis shrugged. “It’s just home.”

  She meant the statement to signal the end of the conversation, hoping xe’d wander off to go talk to Sophie instead. But that hint sailed past xin, and xe kept talking.

  “I theorize that this is why the answers we seek do not appear in your historical records. You are not aware that some aspects of your planet are anomalous, and so you offer no commentary or explanation for them. We hope the ancient beings you worship will supply the remaining answers required to complete our understanding.”

  Peridot had its own explorers. Mostly among the Bone and Cutter folk. Talis understood the appeal of being somewhere where no one had been before. She tried to picture Peridot the way that aliens might. The floating rocky outcroppings of islands. Glow stations with their luminous pumpkins. The dust motes spinning off the edges of landmasses. Nexus, locking it all in place. And, of course, the massive storms.

  Lightning leaped in the clouds off their port rail, and she felt her skin tingle with electricity again. She had allowed Scrimshaw to distract her, and now they were off course for the buoy. As she called out the belated adjustment, a loud wet thud hit the deck just fore of the wheelhouse, followed by the sharp smack of a slapping tail fin.

  “Get back,” she warned Scrimshaw. “Watch out for more of them.”

  She ran back, grabbing a spare belay pin from the rack on the aft steam chimney on her way.

  “Mermaid!” she called as she ran. “Get me a net!”

  She had no time to see whether anyone was moving to do so because the mermaid was upon her. Twice her size, counting the tail, it looked like a drowned woman half-swallowed by a fish, but it might have been male or female. It had slick scales, long claws, and fangs glinting under wet, bedraggled hair. On pale leathery wings, it lifted itself up until the end of its long tail barely touched Wind Sabre’s deck. Its song was no melody now, but a scream. A challenge.

  It tried to dive past her, aiming at the spot where Scrimshaw pressed xist-self defensively against the deckhouse, but Talis leaped forward to head the mermaid off. Using the belay pin like a club, she struck it across the ribcage as high as she could reach. She’d meant to go for the joint at its shoulder, but the thing reared up, lifting high with a beat of its wings. Its coiling tail dragged on the deck, winding and unwinding with rage.

  It hissed at Talis and swiped to push her out of its way. Claws caught in her jacket collar for a moment, then grazed her cheek as she twisted out of its grip. Let a mermaid grab you and it’ll fly you out over nothing, drink your blood, and then drop the drained husk to flotsam.

  Sophie came running with the net. At the sound of her boots, the mermaid turned its attention to her, wings lifted high over its head. Raindrops bounced off of them in an arcing spray that made the beast look even bigger.

  No way Sophie could toss the net over it with the wings outstretched and beating. Talis would need to distract it.

  She circled away from Sophie’s side and went in to strike again. But the moment that she stepped out of the way leading to Scrimshaw, the mermaid was moving toward xin again. Too late, Talis swung the pin at the thing’s chest, the angle too high as the mermaid slid across the slick deck on hands and hips. Talis swept the pin at it again, and managed to club it hard across a hip bone. It emitted a shriek of pain and outrage, but still ignored Talis and Sophie to lunge for Scrimshaw.

  Talis grabbed at the thing’s tail with both hands as it passed. “Now!” she yelled to Sophie. “Throw it!”

  It dragged her across the deck, and Sophie cast the net over them both.

  Wings pinioned, limbs tangled, it collapsed. Talis tripped and sprawled across its lashing tail. That and the net were finally enough to stop the mermaid from reaching Scrimshaw, and it whipped around, turning on Talis with claws and teeth. The beast thrashed violently against the net, tangling worse and worse, so that thankfully its teeth could only snap at her throat, missing it by less than a handspan. Its claws grasped at her hair, pushing her head back to bare the tender flesh. Talis bit it first, chomping the thing’s arm. Her teeth sank into the waterlogged, too-soft skin, and found the wiry muscle beneath. It reared up and away from her throat in outrage. She spat, feeling like she’d bitten into a live, ­wriggling worm.

  It rolled sideways, still desperate to reach Scrimshaw, who was cornered with no retreat that would see xin outside its reach. Talis grappled with its elbows and shoulders, trying to pull it the other way.

  She had never seen a mermaid so intent on a single victim. The alien was so brittle looking, Talis feared for her contract if the mermaid got its way, but she was tangled in the net with it, and couldn’t get her knees under her to push back against the deck. Instead the mermaid finally reached Scrimshaw’s legs and pulled xin off xist feet. Its claws left scratches in Scrimshaw’s exoskeleton that caught on and chipped the ridges of xist precisely carved patterns. Xe hit the deck on xist hip and wrist, and curled up in a fetal position, xist hands crossed protectively over the pouch on xist belt. Not over xist porcelain face, nor over the torso and vital organs. Talis narrowed her eyes.

  Sophie chased after, a knife in her hand to try and free her captain. But there were legs, and wings, and tail, and net, and all moving too erratically and quickly to risk moving in with the blade. Dug was there, then, and together they pulled back on the edge of the net.

  “What is going on with this thing?” Sophie asked against clenched teeth, as she and Dug hauled it back off Scrimshaw.

  Talis got the mermaid’s arms behind it, ducking out of the way of its frantic wings until she had the wrists pinned against each other, and she knelt over it, holding it down.

  She yelled back over her shoulder to Dug. “Check xist pouches!”

  Dug looped his corner of the net over a deck cleat, and dodged the mermaid’s thrashing movements to reach the harassed alien. But Scrimshaw’s ordeal was just beginning, Talis resolved, if xe’d somehow attracted danger to her ship.

  Dug yanked Scrimshaw to xist feet, and away from the mermaid, but held xist wrists together in the grip of a single hand while he invaded the alien’s belt pouch. Scrimshaw’s eyes were dilated, xist head turned as xe leaned away in xist best attempt to evade the movement. Still, Talis thought xe might have resisted with more effort than that.

  When Dug’s hand emerged, he gripped something, and dropped Scrimshaw to the deck. The alien sank to xist knees in defeat, then edged backward farther from where Sophie was attempting to untangle the net from her ­captain’s shoulders.

  “Explain this,” Dug said to Scrimshaw, holding up a small vial. Green light glowed across his hand from the contents, which pulsed and swirled like a trapped insect.

  The mermaid stopped struggling beneath Talis’s grip, its head lifted to watch Dug closely. Sophie used the stillness to cut her captain free.

  Scrimshaw offered no explanation. Xist mouth was open, and xist chest moved with panicked breaths. Xe looked from Dug to Talis, and back again.

  Sophie bound the wings and arms up behind the mermaid’s back so Talis could extract herself. She hopped away quickly as she let go her hold on the mermaid’s arms, but the beast was still transfixed by the object in Dug’s hands.

  Tisker called out to check on them from the other side of the deckhouse,
where he piloted the ship through the buoys.

  Without any help, Talis realized with a start. “Dug, the lanes. We’ve got this.”

  The mermaid was tied off, still tangled in the net and hooked on a cleat. Scrimshaw wasn’t about to do anything to her the mermaid hadn’t already managed. Dug nodded, placed the vial in Talis’s waiting hand, and returned to his post, stepping on the mermaid’s tail where it blocked his path up the deck. The creature barely noticed.

  The glowing object cast a light that seemed to cut through the dismal air, as though there was a small piece of sunshine in the palm of her hand. But it was cool to the touch. The driving rain felt warm in comparison, though she was hot from the struggle and steam was likely gathering off her head and shoulders, as she saw it rising off of Sophie. She shook the vial, and Scrimshaw flinched, catching xist-self as xe started to reach out for it.

  “Answer the question,” Talis said, her voice rigid with the command. “What is this?”

  Sophie began dragging the bundled mermaid toward the railing. At the movement, Scrimshaw blinked against the rain as though roused from a trance. Xe pulled xist feet under xist hips, curling up in a miserable huddle. “I am not—”

  “Not supposed to say?” Talis cuffed xin, grabbed xin by the collar in her free hand, and pulled xin up. She felt xist limbs jangle like a wind chime in her grip. Xe probably wouldn't survive the throttling xe deserved, so she shoved the object in xist face instead. “I'll just bet you aren't.”

  She had a long list of things she wanted to say about Yu’Nyun secrets, but her words were cut off by a series of sharp thuds behind her, hitting the deck in rapid succession. She wheeled around just in time to see five new arrivals swooping toward her and Scrimshaw. Even at a distance their eyes seemed to flash with the reflection of the green light.

  There were too many. Her adrenaline tried to react, to flood her veins again, but she only felt dizzy. Blood pounded in her ears and the droplets of rain around her seemed to slow. Still, the pack of mermaids crossed the deck at full speed, closing in fast on her and Scrimshaw. With only Sophie between them, struggling with the netted mermaid which had begun to thrash again at the sight of its reinforcements. It lifted and pivoted on the upper half of its tail, twisting free as Sophie’s hands were pinched in the net and she let go with a cry of pain. Free again, it surged across the deck.

  But not toward Talis and Scrimshaw. The first mermaid pulled against the net to growl and hiss at its own kind. They reared up in outrage, and then moved again, attacking the bound beast with claws and fangs. There was a confused muddle of flapping wings, and then the former lay in a tangled heap at the mercy of its own kind. It blinked slowly, blood bubbling from its lips, as the others descended upon it, its eyes locked on the vial in Talis’s hand until they finally dimmed.

  “Hide it, Captain Talis,” Scrimshaw pleaded, xist voice a whisper in her ear. “They will not stop coming.”

  She growled at xin, raised xin up again with the impulse to rattle xist neck, then she pulled back her other arm and pitched the vial over Wind Sabre’s railing.

  The mermaids at once and together abandoned the final insults they were visiting upon their victim, and dove after the prize. Leading their group, the largest one’s blood-tipped claws picked the vial out of the air before it dropped from sight, and curled protectively around it. The other four attempted to tear the item from its grip, slashing at its forearms and face, and the tail where it curled up protectively. The wings were assaulted next, shredded with tooth and claw.

  The outcome was inevitable, the danger mounting. Through the roaring wind Talis heard the song of more panicked mermaids, moving from the depths of the storm toward the commotion off their port stern. But rather than fight as viciously to defend the vial as it had to gain it, something in the large mermaid’s features softened. The mad anguish that seemed a perpetual part of their bone structure dulled as it cradled its hands to its heart. It seemed to give up, for a moment, before realizing the danger it was in. It extended the tattered wings, curled the tail in a coil, then dove with the driving rain into the depths, out of sight beyond the railing.

  The others, including several newcomers, flattened their wings against their shoulders and vanished in pursuit.

  Panting, Talis dropped Scrimshaw’s collar, giving xin a chance to settle back on xist feet.

  “Help her,” she told xin, tilting her head to indicate Sophie, who struggled to drag the mermaid’s dead weight to the rail.

  Scrimshaw hesitated, thought better of whatever xe was going to say in protest, and went to Sophie’s side. Together they lifted the mermaid’s body by the shoulders, yanking on the netting there, until they pushed the balance of its weight over the edge and it slid off, taking the ruined netting into the drop with it.

  “Still like them?” Talis asked Sophie as she leaned against the rail, panting from the effort. The humor was forced, ruined by the treachery of Scrimshaw’s little item, but she wouldn’t get a chance to make the joke again, and the ironic comment had been building in her mind where she knew it would fester if left unspoken.

  Sophie needed a minute before she could answer. “Oh, come on, Captain,” she huffed, catching her breath through a wide grin. “That was nothing.”

  “Right,” was all Talis said.

  Tisker had slowed their momentum while they were off course, but now she felt the ship picking up speed again. Scrimshaw stumbled a bit, unsteady as the deck’s gravity shifted. Xe watched her warily, shoulders hunched as though xe expected her to grab for xist neck again. She was sorely tempted.

  She wiped at moisture dripping down her cheek, winced at the sting, and looked down to see her hand covered in fresh blood.

  “Sophie, take port-side buoy watch, would you?”

  “Aye, Captain.” Sophie scurried off, as if to avoid being party to whatever sense Talis might try to beat into the alien.

  “With me,” she said to Scrimshaw, and stalked her way below deck. Scrimshaw followed, meek as a child behind its mother. She tried to catch her breath while on the move, to calm the blood that had finally caught up to the renewed signals and was waiting for another fight.

  They reached the crew quarters, where Talis dug through a cabinet and found herself a towel. She bundled up her hair, looped it up to get it off her face, then used the trailing end to dry her face and neck. She had forgotten about the cut, and left a red streak across the pale cotton. It didn’t help her mood.

  She led Scrimshaw toward their med cabin, commanding xin to follow again with no more than a look.

  “Talk. What was that thing, and why did the mermaids want it so bad?”

  “The ancient texts of the Bone people refer to the creatures as zalika,” the alien told her as they reached the cabin that served as Wind Sabre’s medical bay. Xe was avoiding the first question. Avoiding the Yu’Nyun side, as usual, to talk about her world. “Not a Bone word, evident from the sound of it. It is a name they chose for themselves.”

  “Huh,” she said as they reached Wind Sabre’s medical facilities.

  The cabin was opposite the galley, and roughly the same size. But the table in the center was higher, meant for surgery. Along the forward bulkhead, instead of a stove and icebox, was a recovery bunk, neatly made and rarely used.

  She crossed to a mirror hung on a locker door, and wiped the bloody rainwater from her face with cotton gauze from a drawer beneath it. Blood welled up as fast as she could wipe it away and, in the reflection, she saw it ran down her neck. The collar of her rain-soaked shirt was irreparably stained—once cream, now pink and crimson where the blood and water wicked off her skin. Scrimshaw stood to one side, out of her way as she tended to her wound. Watching xist reflection in the mirror, she saw xin trace the scratches in xist carapace with xist fingertips. Saw the light trembling in those fingertips. Something in xist demeanor had changed. She didn’t figure that the Yu’Nyu
n had much room for things like regret, but xe did at least seem cowed.

  Sophie had boasted to Scrimshaw during their first Yu’keem lesson that Talis was fluent in the five main languages of Peridot, plus the Common Trade, and the dialect of Dug’s village. But she’d never heard the word ‘zalika’ or fathomed that the mermaids even had a language. But the Yu’Nyun had admittedly spent a lot more time trying to learn about Peridot than she ever had. What did she really know, aside from flying, dealing, and smuggling? Well, and fighting.

  “That’s a new one to me,” she admitted, then hissed through her teeth as the gauze stuck at the edge of her cut and tugged.

  “Onaya Bone created them before she made your first officer’s race. She promised them their share of the source, but she never fulfilled that promise.”

  “‘Source’?” She put down the gauze and turned to lean against the counter and fix xin with her full attention. “This source have anything to do with what you had in that vial?”

  Scrimshaw bowed xist head, as much of an admission as xe seemed willing to make. But at least xe kept talking, instead of shutting down on her like she feared xe might. “That which gives you reason, cognition. The force that allows you to act on more than instinct.”

  “Sentience?” she offered, though that couldn’t be right. That wasn’t a thing that could be bottled.

  Scrimshaw considered it for a moment. “That will suffice,” xe said. “Without it, the zalika are in continuous agony and rage. They are inconsolable, and blame those creatures who they believe carry the quintessence that was meant for them. Specifically, the sailors who fly through the storms they inhabit. Unfortunately, they seemed able to sense the sample I carried. It was my expectation they would perhaps only sense that I was a being from this planet and of no more note than you.”