by Jordan Rivet
“I want to know we’re not wasting our time,” she said. How did he know she’d been sneaking around? Did the man on the tanker know who she was after all?
“I admire you for taking so much initiative,” David said. “You went straight for the heart with that tanker stunt. Look, don’t worry about the negotiations. We won’t turn you away empty-handed. Trust me.”
“Why should I?” Esther said. “At least let me take a look at your machinist’s stores or whatever you have.”
“So demanding.” David chuckled. “I’m sure we have all the equipment you need, and then some.”
“I want to see it for myself,” Esther said, “and I want to talk trade with someone. Whatever happened to that Eugene guy?”
David grimaced. “You don’t want to talk to Eugene,” he said, his voice suddenly dark. “Look, if you want to see the stores, I’ll take you down there myself. At least let me get you another drink first.”
Esther shoved her empty glass into his hand and turned her back on him. She felt out of her depth with David. Why had he come to her this evening?
Below her, the crowd milled about, collecting refills, stretching their legs, and visiting each other’s tables. Dax ran a trembling hand through Cally’s hair, but she seemed distracted by all of the activity. A small knot of people had gathered around the captains’ table. There were still only two of them. Judith must be off with the others somewhere, or else she had finally put her foot down and refused to come out for yet another social evening. Captain Ryan stood to shake hands with a circle of admirers, but his black-haired companion still slumped grumpily in his chair. He turned his face for a moment, revealing a scowl. He hadn’t bothered to straighten his rumpled uniform. If Esther didn’t know better, she’d have thought he’d just been in a fight.
Paris had returned to Marianna and Neal’s table. He was waving his arms jovially, addressing others as they passed his table. Esther couldn’t see Neal’s face, but he seemed to shrink in on himself. People kept coming up to pat Paris on the back and shake his hand. They all seemed to have forgotten Esther entirely. It was just as well. She was pretty certain Neal was headed for a miserable heartbreak. She didn’t need to witness it.
She felt a hand on the small of her back. David had returned with two glasses of whiskey. She shook off his hand and took one of the glasses. She didn’t have time for flirting, even if he was elegant and attentive. Still, she’d felt a brief warmth spreading through her spine, a shiver in her limbs, unaccustomed as she was to that kind of physical contact.
“Tell you what,” David said, “let’s stay for one more performance and then go take a look at your desalination parts. The stuff that comes after the next set is a little overblown for my taste.”
“Sure.” Esther studied David, wondering how careful she needed to be around him. As the captains’ spokesman, he basically was the Galaxy Flotilla as far as she was concerned. Still, he might have useful information. “Do you know Paris well? The artistic director?”
David smirked. “Paris does make himself known. Yeah, we’re friendly enough.”
“How about his wife, Marianna? You work together on communications or something, right?”
“Yes, well, she does the technical work. I come around for the official Galaxy business, not the everyday comm officer stuff. Marianna’s great, though. She knows what she’s doing.”
“They seem like an odd couple.”
“You mean because he seems gay?” David said. There was definitely a smirk on his face this time. “Yes, that is a weird one. He puts it on a bit. I think he’s bi, actually. You know he and Marianna were going to have a child? Stillborn. Sad business. As far as I know, Paris desperately wanted kids. He’s terribly concerned about continuing the human race or some such nonsense. He decided it would be best to be married to a woman. I think the relationship worked out well for a while, but I know he dabbles on the side a bit—men and women, I suppose. Paris loves everybody.”
“Huh. I feel sorry for Marianna,” Esther said, looking down at them.
“She knew what she was getting into. Loved him anyway. And she wanted a baby as much as he did.”
David adjusted his glasses and seemed to notice for the first time that his hair was messed up. He pulled a comb from the pocket of his trousers.
“Will they last?” Esther asked.
“People don’t divorce very often around here. There was a bout of breakups initially, when everyone was trying to figure out how to live with the new world order—or lack thereof. But since then, people tend to stay together, if they choose to marry at all.”
“It’s been the same on the Catalina,” Esther said. “We don’t have new marriages very often, but I can only think of one or two divorces.” She felt a stab of sadness for Neal. He’d fallen hard, but there was no way this could end well.
David put the comb back in his pocket. “The Catalina seems like a sweet little community. You lot are always talking about doing things for the common good and all that.”
“Who’ve you been talking to?”
“Believe it or not, I’m a good listener. You’re all quite pleased with your small-town ways.”
“It’s a good way to live,” Esther said. “We know each other’s names, and we look out for each other. I’ll be glad when we can get back to it.”
“Will you really?” David said. “You don’t feel the slightest bit seduced by the life we have here? The variety? Surely even a scrappy mechanic girl like you appreciates a little glamour.”
He ran the back of his hand down the length of her arm. She jerked her arm away, both annoyed and thrilled by his touch.
“Scrappy mechanic girls have simple tastes.”
She tossed her glass of whiskey back, and nearly choked on a piece of ice.
David laughed, and his smile was unexpectedly warm. “I meant it as a compliment, you know. Scrappy is good, tough. Come on, let’s go see the supply hold.”
Chapter 17—In the Hold
THEY LEFT THE THEATER as a group of dancers cavorted down the aisles in masks and elaborate headdresses made from shells and albatross feathers. Esther was almost sorry to go, but she didn’t want to miss the chance to finally get her hands on some new RO filters. And she certainly couldn’t count on getting help from David Hawthorne later. He led the way down a winding stairwell and along a dim passageway. The music from the theater faded quickly, and she couldn’t hear the sea either. This part of the Galaxy Mist seemed deserted. The silent doors might guard enough surplus materials to keep the Catalina going for another decade.
“You’re lucky I know where this is at all,” David called over his shoulder. “I’m not any kind of expert in mechanical matters, but I do remember someone talking about desalination stores on the Mist. The stuff you need should be here somewhere.”
He lifted a hatch in the floor at the end of the hallway and climbed down a metal staircase, his feet clomping in the darkness. He flipped on a light at the bottom. Esther scrambled after him.
The hold was long and narrow, lined with boxes and shipping crates. Fluorescent lighting cast a sickly hue over everything. Plastic-wrapped objects and duct-taped containers hulked like icebergs. Esther walked slowly down the long room, studying the labels pasted on the sides listing contents and places of origin. David followed at a distance. She smoothed down her tight skirt, wondering if he was just looking at the labels too.
“Some of this stuff is from other ships,” Esther said.
“Yes, the Mist is sparsely occupied, so we use it to store goods for everyone.”
“I mean ships that aren’t part of your flotilla at all. The Paradise Rose, Oceania, the Libra. How did you wind up with their cargo?”
“I told you, I really don’t know much about what’s in here,” David said.
“If you say so.” I wonder where those ships are now.
Esther hadn’t missed the false note in David’s voice. He knew more than he was letting on. She was pretty sure he k
new exactly what had happened to those other ships. Esther scanned the labels, but the words seemed to jump around. She put a hand to her head and was startled by how clean her fingernails looked. She stared at them for a moment, and when she looked up David had come closer.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. That is, I think so.” She turned around and was surprised to feel slightly unbalanced. She lurched to the side, as if the floor had tipped under a particularly strong wave. “Is a storm coming?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Strange.” Esther had nearly reached the end of the room. “There. That’s something about filters.” She pointed to a pile of boxes stacked high above her. “Wish I were taller.”
She tried to climb up a nearby stack to look into the top box but had trouble getting a good grip on the pile.
“Maybe that’s not such a good idea.” David stepped closer to her.
“No, we need this. We can’t live on salt water. Everyone knows that.”
She laughed, and the echoes sounded strange in the cavernous hold.
“Esther, have you ever been drunk before?” David said.
“Excuse me?”
“Drunk. How many whiskeys did you have?”
“Uh, not sure. Maybe three?”
David’s smile was back. “None of us have much alcohol tolerance these days. I’m a bit tipsy myself. Maybe you shouldn’t climb boxes until you’re sober again.”
He reached for her arm and helped her down from the box.
“I can’t waste this chance. It’s impossible to get any answers about this stuff around here. It’s important.” She gripped his forearm, trying to communicate the urgency of her situation. It was all her fault and she had to fix it, no matter what happened afterward.
David’s glasses were fogging up. “I know it’s important.”
His voice sounded nice. It must be the whiskey.
“Look, why don’t we relax for a while, get some water, and wait for both of us to sober up? Then you can go climbing over boxes all you want.”
“I think I might fall off the bridge.”
“We don’t have to go far. I told you the Mist is sparsely populated, but some people still live here—including me. That’s why I knew how to get into the cargo hold, even though I don’t know exactly what’s in it. Come on, we can go to my cabin.”
Esther followed him back to the entrance hatch and climbed the ladder slowly. Being drunk was a rather curious experience, like sitting in the speedboat with the engine turned off on a misty day. It was kind of fun.
David led the way through a maze of passageways and staircases. Esther tried to keep track of where they were going, but soon she was lost in the twists and turns. She was no longer certain which level they were on. Lights shone in the halls, but they didn’t cross paths with any other people. Everyone must still be at the cabaret performance. She hoped Cally was having fun.
“This is me,” David said.
They were in a wider hallway, with wallpaper the color of a prestorm sky. Long ago, these staterooms must have been on the more expensive end. David unlocked the door.
“We don’t use keys anymore,” Esther said. “No point.”
“When you don’t know all your neighbors, it doesn’t hurt to be careful. Strange characters come and go around here.” He winked at her.
Esther hesitated at the door. “Do you live with your family?”
“No. It’s just me.”
He held the door open for her. She felt a twist of nerves, but something about the way David had acted this evening made her want to trust him. With his mussed-up hair and the unexpected kindness in his voice, he seemed so . . . human.
The stateroom had a small table with four chairs bolted to the floor and a screen partially separating the bed from the rest of the room. The door to the bathroom was open. David pulled it closed as Esther caught a glimpse of a small pile of clothes slung over the shower to dry. The walls had a hodgepodge of old ship posters and drawings in abstract patterns.
“Sorry about the mess. Water? Or I do have a small bottle of whiskey if you’re not through. A gift from the captains.”
“Water, thanks.”
“You can look around if you’d like. Or have a seat.”
“You have a huge window,” Esther said, staring at the dark square occupying most of the wall on the far side of the bed.
“Yeah, but the shield’s closed right now. They do that at night as a precaution. Most of our shields open up in good weather,” David said, preoccupied with opening the cabinets built into the small closet.
“What can you see?” Esther asked.
“Nothing but the ocean and the stars, when there are any. Most people prefer a ‘city’ view. I don’t think there’s any point hiding from the fact that we’re surrounded by water. Too many people live in denial these days.”
David set two tall glass cups on the table and poured water into them from a plastic bottle. He sat down in one of the chairs and stretched his long legs underneath the table. He waved his arm at the other chair. “Help yourself.”
Esther steadied herself on the wall before walking slowly to the chair. She perched on the edge of her seat and sipped water from the glass. The room was spinning ever so slightly. Holding on to the bottom of the table, she studied David over the edge of her cup.
“What do you mean, people live in denial?” she said.
David put his hands behind his head and slouched back in his chair. “They pretend we really are on a cruise. Going to cabarets, worrying about fashion and gossip. As if everyone they knew weren’t dead, and aren’t they lucky to be having this lovely holiday? The captains like it this way. They want people to stay in this perpetual bubble of denial because it keeps them calm. You know, most of the people who work on the crews and cleaning staff here were doing the same kind of work before. Their children are growing up and taking on the same jobs. And the people living in the lap of luxury now were original paid-up passengers. We’re not like you Catalinans, who have such a pathetic situation, overcrowded as you are, that you all have to pitch in.”
He stared stormily at one of the drawings on the wall, a geometric pattern of rings and jagged lines.
“What about you?” Esther challenged. The Catalina is not pathetic. “Aren’t you part of the lap of luxury, as you call it? You work directly for the captains.”
“I’m in charge of the spin,” David said. “It’s easier for me to see when that’s all there is. Building a new civilization on the sea indeed.”
Esther’s glass was cool against her lips. The room was becoming more stable.
“Are you sure you should be talking about this to me?”
David barked a laugh. “You’re right. I probably shouldn’t. You’re a strange one, Esther.”
They sat in silence. Esther felt calmer than she had in a long while. The filter parts were within reach. Maybe it didn’t matter what was going on with the oil tanker and the captains. She could get the parts they needed, and they’d be on their way. Still, it was good to know someone acknowledged the falseness, or maybe the delusion, of life on the Galaxy. But as the spinning of the room slowed, she noticed David was studying her closely. It wasn’t obvious, because his indolent position hadn’t changed, but his eyes were fixed on her, piercing behind the thick frames of his glasses. She figured it was a good time to change the subject.
“Why aren’t you married?”
“Ha! I was trying to guess what you were thinking, and that is not what I expected at all. I thought you were trying to think of a way to take apart my cabin and turn it into a desalination system. Why aren’t you married?”
“Well, I’m only twenty-two, and my choices are rather limited.”
“I’d have guessed you were older than twenty-two. You’re so damn confident. But you have some uncertainty underneath. You hide it well, though.”
Esther ignored the last part of his statement. “And you?”
�
�I’m thirty,” David said. “Just last month. You know how Paris and Marianna got married because they wanted to make babies? Well I’m the opposite. I don’t see the point in creating a family when the world has gone to hell on high water already.”
“You don’t see the point in a lot of things, do you?” Esther said.
“Do you want to have kids on a godforsaken cruise ship at sea?”
“No, I don’t. But my level of despair doesn’t quite equal yours. We’re making our life at sea work well enough. It’s almost all I can remember anyway. Other people can have kids, and I’ll focus on my work, help keep them safe and hydrated. Everyone wins.”
“If you say so. More water?”
“Thanks.”
“Why are you so crazy about machines anyway?” he asked over his shoulder as he stood to retrieve another bottle.
“I’m not crazy about them.”
“The only thing we’ve ever talked about until now is how much you need parts.”
He sat on the table this time, closer to her, and poured. The water tumbled into the glass like crystals.
“I like things that fit together in a logical way. They break sometimes, but it’s a simple matter of getting the right pieces to fit in the right ways and you can fix anything. And the work I do is meaningful. Keeping the engines functional, fixing the pumps, modifying the water system. It has a direct impact on all our lives.”
“And you’re good at it?”
He was close enough for Esther to smell the salt spray on his skin.
“Yeah, I am. I mess up sometimes, but I never make the same mistake twice.”
The room was no longer spinning, but Esther felt light-headed as David leaned closer to her face.
“It must be nice to have something to be so passionate about.”
“It is. It’s—”
David moved in and kissed her. It happened so quickly and unexpectedly that Esther didn’t have time to react, but she didn’t pull away. David’s mouth was hot and smooth. The light from the cheap ceiling fixture reflected across his glasses. He pulled back and looked at her. He seemed surprised at himself too. Now would be the time to say something. But Esther just stared at him for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed him again. This was not a good idea. She still didn’t completely trust him. They had work to do before she returned to the Catalina that night. He put a warm hand on the back of her neck, then brushed his fingers slowly along her collarbone. She wrapped her hands in his hair and pulled him closer.