by Jordan Rivet
Esther smiled at the memory. “I was terrified, but I wasn’t going to let him make fun of me.”
“He was a little bastard, make no mistake.” Rachel chuckled, and spidery lines stretched out from her eyes likes spikes on a gear. “What’re you here for?”
“I do need cables actually. T-7s with octagonal links, if you have any.”
“Sure thing. Who’re your friends?”
“This is my apprentice, Cally, and her boyfriend, Dax.”
“You have an apprentice now? Well if that don’t make me feel old.”
Rachel led the way through the crowd toward an alcove by the far wall. Her walk was slower than in years past, but she still stood tall above the crowd. She showed Esther an array of cable coils, while Cally picked through a box of miscellaneous washers. Dax trailed behind her like a string of bubbles, occasionally poking at items hanging around the alcove.
“Where is your son anyway?” Esther asked Rachel. “Getting himself into trouble?”
“Oh, Luke has been getting into trouble all right, but it’s not the usual sort. He works for the Metal Harvesters now. Their recruiters won him over with their promises of adventure.”
“What do they do?”
“The Harvesters? Oh, they collect salvaged metal from abandoned ships and the like to sell here at the Amsterdam. Sometimes they even sail into shallow water to pull up wrecks. They have quite a few ships now.”
“Really? Sounds like a decent gig.”
Esther wondered how Zoe, Toni, and Anita would take to salvaging metal. She’d have to mention the Harvesters to them.
“Maybe,” Rachel said, “but they keep getting into spats with the Calderon Group. I barely see Luke anymore.”
“What’s the Calderon Group? More salvagers?”
“Mercenaries. Pirates, if you ask me. They hire themselves out for supply runs, dispute resolutions, that sort of thing. Rumor has it they’ve taken to attacking ships outright. They’ll do whatever it takes to increase their purchasing power, so to speak. It’s getting bad.”
“What do they want?”
“What else? Oil. Cash. We’re not all focused on survival anymore.”
“Can’t the Amsterdam cut them off if they’re causing trouble?” Esther asked.
“Half the Coalition officials are in their back pocket, and we don’t have the firepower to keep them away. The only thing that keeps them under control is their need for fuel. They still gotta check in every once in a while. They’re not exactly known for being frugal with their reserves.” Rachel pulled a heavy coil from a bin at the back of her alcove. “Ah, here’s the T-7. Will it do?”
“This is exactly what I need.” Esther measured out a length of the cable. “Do you think the Catalina is in any danger from this Calderon Group?”
The Amsterdam had always been a hotbed for privateer types. It was one of the reasons Judith hadn’t wanted to meet up with them. She didn’t trust anyone outside the Catalina.
“Not likely. You don’t have much of value, unless your circumstances have changed significantly since your last docking.” Rachel settled on a stool beside a rack of wrenches.
Esther avoided her eyes. “No, I guess you’re right.” She was suddenly very conscious of her algae oil extraction plans scratched in the floor of the bowling alley, not to mention the completed separator, which had allowed them to sail here without using up any diesel. Nothing of value indeed.
Esther and Rachel completed their trade: all the cable she needed in exchange for a leftover desalination filter that was too small for their own system. Esther said good-bye to Rachel and promised to come back for another visit before they sailed. Cally and Dax had wandered off. Mildly irritated, Esther pushed through the crowd after them. They could get into all kinds of trouble here. There was no sign of them, and she couldn’t see very far past the rough-clad clientele. If only she were taller!
“The end of our tribulation is near!” An old man with red depressions around his eyes stepped into her path. “Seven times three! The number of completion times the number of God! Twenty-one years. I found the formula hidden in the ancient words.” He brandished a warped piece of plywood tacked with disintegrating pages from a Bible. “The end of our tribulation is near!”
Esther shifted the coil of cable further up on her shoulder and dodged around the man. People jostled her, and she pushed toward the edge of the market, where she hoped to get a better view.
She broke through the crowd near the passageway leading to the main drill floor and ended up by the Rusty Nail, a bar catering to the seafarers, crewmen, and nomads who made their way through the Amsterdam Bazaar. The bar itself was made of corrugated shipping-container steel in a random assortment of colors. People used the empty oil barrels arrayed in front of the bar as drinks tables. Alcohol was expensive, but the Rusty Nail was the perfect place to gather information. David had chosen this as his theater to share the news of Esther’s newfound energy source.
She found him leaning against the bar, surrounded by a rough-looking contingent of traders. He didn’t acknowledge her when she stopped at the edge of the crowd. He was too busy orating.
“. . . change our life as we know it at sea. The owner of this technology could sell the biofuel or keep it and dominate all the competition. This is worth more than my weight in oil, if you know what I mean.”
“How do we know your system will work?” said a bearded man hovering behind David at the bar. He wore strange earrings that stretched his earlobes so much, a wrench could fit through the hole.
“Trust me. With my system you’ll be so prosperous you’ll look back and laugh for ever questioning me.” David raised his glass to the man. “You don’t want to miss out on this auction, my friend. This one’s a game changer.”
“Let me buy you a drink and you can tell me more about how it works.” The man waved a sun-darkened hand toward the bar. He was missing his ring finger.
“I can’t give away my secrets before they’re sold, but I will take you up on that drink,” David said.
Esther shook her head as David continued to extol the virtues of her energy system to the growing crowd. She’d be glad when this was all over.
A tall, copper-haired woman stood near the man with the holes in his ears. Esther did not like the way she was looking at David. There was something predatory about her, like a lionfish. The woman leaned in to ask him a question, letting her hand play along the soft fabric of David’s sweater. She stayed close, listening raptly to David’s every word. Was he smiling at her more than his other listeners?
Esther realized she was trying to stand a little taller. David still hadn’t acknowledged her, but he was certainly keeping everyone’s interest. Especially that woman’s. Abruptly, Esther turned and walked away. David didn’t need her help. She didn’t feel like watching people fawn over him, and she would not compete for his attention. They had been through a lot together. He had no right to ignore her.
The sight of David’s sales pitch had soured her enthusiasm for the Amsterdam Bazaar—and that made her even more annoyed. She wanted to believe that she had shared something special with David, that the risk she had taken in pulling him close that night on the Galaxy Mist had been worth it. For all she knew, he was the New Pacific’s biggest player. On the other hand, she knew he could be gentle, that he could speak with a different voice than his smooth salesman’s tone. And she remembered the look of utter determination on his face when he sailed the Lucinda away from the Galaxy in search of the Catalina, despite the bullet wound spreading smears of red down his arm.
Esther shifted the metal coil up to her shoulder and ducked down an aisle lined with hagglers and hanging bits of flotsam and jetsam. She turned a corner around a stack of cracked rubber tires and bumped into a young man wearing a faded “Catalina: Your Island at Sea” T-shirt.
“Neal! How’s it going?”
“Okay,” he said. He had a hunk of plastic tucked under his arm with wires trailing out of it. “
What’s up with the separator stuff?”
“Hawthorne is hawking it as we speak,” Esther said. “Want to head to the canteen with me?”
“Sorry,” Neal said. “I still have a few people to see. Catch you later.”
Esther sighed as he wandered back into the crowd, his shoulders hunched and his step missing a spring. She hoped his moping phase would be over soon. It would probably be easier on him if Marianna weren’t the one spearheading the effort to restore worldwide communication via the satellite network, spreading her pretty voice across the airwaves.
Needing a better vantage point, Esther climbed partway up the stack of cracked tires and surveyed the crowd. There was still no sign of Cally and Dax. She couldn’t see Zoe and her friends either. She was surprised to feel a bit lonely despite the crowds. She wished she had gone with her friends after all. For a moment she almost went back to the Rusty Nail to join David. He stood out even from this distance. Something about his white-blond hair made him look cleaner and newer than everyone around him.
“Hey! Get down from there!” shouted the tire shopkeeper. His outfit looked like it was mostly constructed from tire rubber too.
“Sorry.” Esther jumped off the stack.
“If yer buying, you can climb all you want,” said the tire man. “Yeh can build a whole raft out of these babies.”
“No, thanks,” Esther said.
Tires were surprisingly easy to come by, at least the ones that still floated well enough to be useful. But she was distracted by the smells wafting from a far corner of the bazaar. She dove into the crowd again and made her way toward the canteen.
I’ll talk to David tonight, she thought. We can’t keep ignoring each other, and it’s time we clarified a thing or two.
The canteen emitted the same fishy odors that filled the Catalina’s own galley, but it also smelled of unusual oils and delectable spices. The Amsterdam kitchens were famous for recreating the flavors of a bygone era through careful preservation of their spice supply. It was this, almost as much as the trade opportunities, which brought people back to it so regularly.
At the first food stall, a man with a large hooked nose sold fish balls dipped in a pungent curry. Esther traded a spare gear for the meal. She had no qualms about giving away a bit of metal in exchange for the wondrous burning sensation on her tongue. She had hoped to share this experience with Cally. That’s what she got for running off into the bazaar with Dax.
Esther leaned against the food stall and tuned in to the big-nosed curry vendor’s conversation with the next customer, a man with leathery skin and ears like razor clams.
“The Harvesters have their work cut out for them with Calderon. Don’t I know it.”
“They gonna come to a fight?” asked the leather-faced customer.
“Not likely.” The curry vendor continued to stir the vat of sauce as he spoke. “Them’s cowards, if you ask me. No way Calderon will want to deal with the Harvesters head-on.”
“Don’t know who made them the arbiters o’ justice anyway.”
“Better’n nothing. No one else can do anything about the sneaky bastards. They come at you from all sides and melt away into the waves. Colin thinks they have a sub, but I say that’s whaleshit. Anyway, the Harvesters have got an aggressive recruiting campaign going. They want a fair fight, but them Calderons is anything but fair.”
“You think they’re pirates? That’s what Hugh was saying last time he was in port.”
“No skin off my nose if they are. Both of them buy my fish balls and leave the Amsterdam alone. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Ain’t that the truth!” The man raised his half-eaten fish ball in the air.
Esther finished her snack and left the vendor to his conversation. She wondered about all this piracy talk. Rachel had mentioned the Calderon Group and the Harvesters too. The Amsterdam was a good place to have rumors fleshed out, but it was hard to tell what was true and what was exaggerated.
She bought a small bag of chocolate-covered squid from another stall. Anything made with chocolate was exceptionally expensive; cocoa was rarer than oil in their world. She would save them for Cally and Dax in case they didn’t find their way to this part of the bazaar. She hoped they hadn’t gotten themselves into trouble. She felt responsible for Cally, mostly because her mother would string Esther up by a length of durable denim if anything happened to her daughter. After a moment’s hesitation, Esther bought a second bag for David.
She explored the familiar corners of the bazaar alone that afternoon. The Amsterdam had been her primary source of contact with other survivors through much of her life. She tried reliving those wide-eyed days, but some of the magic was missing and she wasn’t sure why.
Eventually, Esther pushed her way back out of the short corridor to the outer platform. The sun sat low on the horizon, and the sea was restless. Back at the Catalina, a sulky Gracie Cordova had replaced Judith at the shell station. Whenever someone came aboard, she moved their shell from one bucket to another with a petulant clink. She informed Esther that Cally and Dax had not yet returned. Esther settled down cross-legged beside the gangway to wait for them.
Chapter 9—Night
ESTHER HUNG OUT BY the platform as the sun went down and the other Catalinans made their way back to the ship. They chattered animatedly, their arms filled with purchases: colorful scarves, books, cigarettes and soap, teacups marred with shatter patterns. Judith’s arms were empty. Apparently, she had taken David’s advice to delay any major transactions. Dirk stuck doggedly to her heels.
Zoe and the others returned promptly at sunset, when the last rays were setting the oil rig alight. Esther promised to meet them in the Mermaid Lounge after Cally was safely on board. She kept an eye on the gangway to the Lucinda as she waited. David was also late returning home.
Eventually, Gracie got fed up.
“You can keep track of the stragglers if you’re going to hang out here anyway,” she said. “It’s bad enough I only got a short visit to the bazaar today. I’m not going to sit here in the cold.”
She tossed her thick hair and flounced up the gangway into the ship.
It grew colder. Esther wrapped her arms tighter around her legs. The sounds drifting from the bazaar had gone from bustling to raucous. The sky changed from feather gray to charcoal.
Esther was fiddling with the rubber rim of her storm goggles when she heard a series of giggles, one high, one low. Cally and Dax must have returned at last. Two figures came closer to her and stopped to smooch in the dim lighting. Esther was chilled and stiff by this time, and she wished they’d get it over with. She was just about to interrupt their tryst so she could go back inside when her father and Penelope Newton came into view. Penelope let out another giggle like a schoolgirl. Esther scowled at them as they crossed over to the ship, but her father didn’t even notice her sitting in the shadows. Why can’t they go back to having a secret romance?
And still Esther waited. She was starting to worry. She didn’t think Cally would venture to the darker parts of the Amsterdam, the corners around the old drill, where some of the more illicit activities took place. She didn’t know much about them, but Frank had always warned her to keep to the bazaar.
Lights had started to frost the oil rig with patches of illumination when David appeared. He staggered across the dock to the Lucinda, steps weaving. Esther stood as soon as she saw him, the sweets she had bought clutched in her hand. Was he injured? Then she realized he was leaning against a slim figure with flowing copper hair. She tried to make out their conversation, but the hiss of the water against the ships swallowed their voices. From what she could tell, their words were friendly as they tottered down the gangway and disappeared onto the Lucinda’s deck.
Esther paced in front of the Catalina’s own gangway, trying to sort through the tangled ropes of her feelings. David was bringing a woman back to his ship. So that was it. He was someone who picked up strangers and took them to his cabin, nothing more.
<
br /> Esther thought of her own visit to David’s cabin on the Galaxy Mist, her belief that they’d shared a connection. Stupid. The ships creaked, metal against metal. A handful of lights burned through portholes. Lucinda drifted up and down in the restless water. Esther shook her head at the shifting gangway, pushing away the knot in her windpipe. If that was how it was, then fine. At least she knew the truth. She opened the bag of chocolate-covered squid and popped the first chewy sweet into her mouth.
It was pitch black by the time Cally and Dax finally appeared, and Esther was in a foul mood. She was halfway through the second bag of sweets. The teenage couple ran hand in hand toward the ship.
“Esther! We lost you!” Cally said, her face flushed pink like a sunset cloud. “You won’t believe the day we’ve had!”
“I don’t give a rusty damn about the day you’ve had,” Esther snapped.
“But—”
“Don’t even start. You were supposed to stick with me and take notes. It’s your duty—salt, Cally, you’re making me sound like Judith.”
“We have something to tell—”
“Get on board and get to bed. We have work to do tomorrow, and you’d better be up bright and early. And Dax, you should stay on the Catalina tomorrow and make yourself useful.”
“But Esther, it’s about David—” Dax began.
“I don’t want to hear it. Onto the ship. Now.”
Cally and Dax hung their heads as they crossed the gangway and headed toward the main doors. Esther felt a little sorry for snapping, but it was cold, and David’s guest hadn’t left yet.
Cally and Dax were the last Catalinans to return, so Esther hauled the bucket of shells back onto the ship. Instead of going to her cabin, she stomped up to the Mermaid Lounge and joined Zoe, Anita, and Toni at their booth.
Zoe and Toni talked over each other about their encounters from the day.
“We met the most interesting sea captain!”