Salt in the Water (A Lesser Dark Book 1)

by S. Cushaway

  “This time? This time is the first I’ve gone out without Gren or Vore in charge.” Leigh stepped past him, tossed the field pack into the rover, and climbed into the front seat.

  “Nuh-uh,” Kaitar said, shaking his head. “Back there. Scout sits in front. I have to see where we’re going, otherwise what’s the point?”

  Leigh’s jaw tightened as she crawled into the back. She settled against one of the water barrels, an arm resting on the pile of gear. “It’s not my call who goes out. Orin wanted me to go, and he’s got his reasons for that decision. You hate being an Enforcer, Zres. Why don’t you quit? Find something that makes you happy.”

  Kaitar bit the pinch of cigarette between his lips. “She’s got a point. And no one with any sense would want to go out on this one. This is the safest place to be. We’re probably going to die, and you’ll still be here, with plenty of water and food.” He swung into the front seat, about to say more when the chop-shop door slammed open a second time. Romano Vargas sauntered out, a thin, blue Junkers’ Union jacket swung over one broad shoulder, a pair of goggles nestled in his dark hair.

  “I’m ready,” he announced. “Everything should be in the Draggin now.” He turned as Erid, a strapping, green-eyed boy of about ten, appeared in the doorway. Behind him, Dramen Frell—Romano’s uncle and a Junker Steward of some note—nodded in their general direction. Burly, middle-aged, and sporting a ridiculous, curling mustache, Frell looked nothing like his nephew, save for the breadth of shoulder and strength of chin.

  “Be good while I’m gone, Erid.” Romano ruffled his son’s hair. “And try to fix that bean grinder for Hubert.”

  “Okay, Dad, good luck!”

  Romano shook hands with Frell, then flashed a friendly smile in Zres’s direction, white teeth gleaming against his tanned face. “You got something on your shirt.”

  “It’s my badge. I’m captain of Dogton. Gotta protect the town, don’t I?” Zres patted his bean-soaked chest. Then, he turned, gave a mocking salute, and stalked off before anyone could make further comment on his “badge,” or the fact he was being left in town like a child. Again.

  The thump of his boots against the hard-packed dust became inaudible as the rover’s engine fired to life. The vibration rumbled all the way up his legs to his stomach. Despair crept over him like a big, dark cloud promising rain and relief, but never delivering. It just hung over his head, gloomy and gray, though the sun shined bright. No one else noticed that cloud while they waved their goodbyes to the three people in the rover already rolling toward the gates.

  Goin’ to save the world. Goin’ to save Gren. And here I am. Captain of Beanton.

  Just Worms

  “It feels so good.” Romano rubbed his forehead as he gripped the wheel with the other hand.

  Kaitar shot him a disgusted look. “We have at least three more hours to drive until we stop and make camp.” He wasn’t about to admit his own head ached from the rover’s constant bumping and vibrating. His neck felt like someone had fused it straight to his spine and the muscles knotted, tense, beneath his duster. To make matters worse, Romano had lathered himself in cheap cologne and even the flies seemed to be put off by the noxious odor. Kaitar leaned away from the Junker, cramming himself up against the door panel as he turned his head from the fumes.

  He’s treating this like a damned party.

  He studied Romano from the corner of his eye, amazed a grown man could be so careless about venturing into the Shy’war-Anquai. The people of Dogton regarded Romano Vargas as a good mechanic, fair and honest to deal with, and the Junker did handle the rover with considerable skill. But everything else the man did, from his choice of ranging attire to the reek of cologne, baffled Kaitar.

  Knowing he’d probably regret speaking at all, he said, “Romano, it looks empty out here, yes, but it’s not. This land? It will kill you if you aren’t paying attention. There are sinkholes, threk, poison plants, scorpions, snakes, sandstorms . . . hell, even those Senbehi melons that everyone likes so much? You ever see what they grow on out here? Vines as thick as your wrist, lined with thorns that will swell you up faster than a snakebite.”

  Romano’s eyes glazed over. “I’ve been out on breakdown runs before.”

  “It’s not a damned joyride with your Junker buddies. I’ve spent twenty years out here and there are still times the desert scares the piss out of me.”

  “I know. Katey, look. I’m just here to drive you guys to Pirahj. That’s only a few days away. No big deal. We’re in Dogton territory, within easy reach of help. I brought a flare gun. It’s got a beacon that’ll alert any Junkers within a couple hundred miles to our location.”

  “It would alert anyone within a hundred miles,” Kaitar said, wishing he could shake sense into the man. “That means bandits or squatters, too.”

  From the backseat, Leigh said, “Even if they did see a flare, it would take the Junkers days to drive any distance in this terrain. Kaitar is right. You may get to go home after dropping us at Pirahj, but I want to get to there as quickly as possible. Drive, Romano, and if you want to talk to the scout, talk about the fastest route to the Old Tree Well and Pirahj.” She reached for the canteen at her belt.

  Bitter irritation snaked its way into Kaitar’s belly. He wasn’t sure which was worse—listening to Romano’s incessant babbling or having Leigh grinding on about what his duties were. As the rover sped along, he stared at the scrub and sand, little more than a red blur.

  “I didn’t see anything in my contract about not being able to talk,” Romano said. “And being quiet isn’t really going to make this Draggin go any faster. Not over this terrain. Now, last spring when I took her up to the salt flats near Glasstown for a test run with Frell and a couple other guys, she flew. Look above you, Leigh. See that?”

  Kaitar glanced back despite himself. Leigh, too, stared up at the black, reflectionless railing running along the top edge of the frame.

  “Excerii solar railing. This baby recharges herself. No running out of juice. I’d like to work out a system where she can recharge Firebrand and other types of cells, too.” Romano winked. “Oh, I’ve got a modified engine in her. She’s built for speed, this one. It’ll get you to Pirahj faster than those old-models Neiro makes you Enforcers drive. Hell, you guys should put in a request to the Foundry for a new fleet.” The Junker frowned. “Neiro isn’t keeping your field gear up to snuff. I know he’s not under Foundry authority, but if things keep up like that, the Union’s going to put in a complaint to Avaeliis.”

  “And Avaeliis will ignore it,” Kaitar said. He didn’t care about solar railings or Draggin rovers. As to what the Foundry did—the Junkers’ Union seat of power along the northern borders of the Shy’war-Anquai—he didn’t care about that, either. He closed his eyes, head throbbing, exhaustion pressing down on him, heavy as a full drum of water.

  “You’re supposed to be watching ahead.”

  And there she goes, ordering me around like I’m her personal slave.

  “I closed my eyes for half a minute. You think I’ve gotten any sleep lately? I spent the last three days in the saddle trying to get back as fast as I could without killing Mol—my mule. Look.” He sighed. “I know you’re worried about Gren. I am, too. But I’m going to tell you both something right now. The chances of finding him alive are slim, at best. The Sulari have no mercy for captives or Dogton Enforcers. Look at what they did to Broach.”

  Anger or shame—Kaitar wasn't sure which—flickered in her expression as her lips turned down at the corners. “Not all Sulari are animals. And some of those squatters are Estarians that stayed after Lein Strauss was killed. It could just as easily have been Estarian squatters that killed Broach and took Gren.”

  “You think so, Leigh?” Kaitar smirked. “Either way, I know my job. Don’t tell me how to do it. If I think it’s safe enough to get a fucking nap, then I’m going to do it. You don’t like it? Radio in and bitch to Orin, and see who he backs.” He closed his eyes again and crossed
his arms over his chest, headache drilling away in his skull.

  I need a damned pepper bloom cigarette already.

  “Whoa, Leigh. I think the scout just told us off,” Romano said, laughing. “I think both of you need to chill out a bit. I hope you guys find Gren alive, though. I like the guy. Always have. You know he apprenticed up at the Foundry years ago, back before the Sulari fell? Him and Frell trained together, but I guess Gren decided being a Junker wasn’t cutting it for him.”

  “He told me a little about that,” Leigh said. “He said he found all the regulations and paperwork to be tedious, though he also said he misses the coffee they have at the Foundry, and likes it more than the kind they ship from Avaeliis. When they remember to ship it at all.” She sounded sad now, and Kaitar almost regretted snapping at her.

  “Kaitar,” she went on, leaning forward. “You scouted by Bywater fifteen years ago when Strauss led the Bywater uprising, and you talked to Broach after he signed on and took that area over. What kind of resistance do you think we’ll find down there?”

  He hesitated before answering. A memory flashed in his mind—a dead body, sprawled out next to a big limestone rock not far from Bywater Gully. Lein Strauss and his crew had dragged the man behind a wagon until he’d fallen and been left to die from his wounds. The carcass had been crawling with so many flies it had seemed alive with them.

  Kaitar shook his head as much to banish the memory away as to answer Leigh’s question. “I’m not sure. It will depend on how many squatters are holed up in Bywater now, and what kind of weapons they’ve managed to make or steal. Broach told me that he estimated at least fifty there.” He considered, then added, “We may be in for a bit of a fight, but they won’t be able to hold out against the Scrappers and the all guns they’re likely to bring.”

  “What about the women and children? Are we supposed to leave them there?” Leigh asked.

  “I don’t know. If Orin didn’t mention anything to you about it, I guess Neiro is washing his hands of that problem.” Kaitar peered over the side of the rover again. “If the Scrappers have other orders about that . . . I don’t want to know what they are. I won’t be part of the fighting. Neiro and the Scrappers can have that blood on their own hands.”

  “Well, you two can’t just leave them there,” Romano said. “You can’t just leave women and children to the desert like that. When I get back to Dogton, I’ll tell Frell about it and make sure he’s got the word in to the Foundry about setting up some kind of aid.” His expression cleared. “Oh, Katey, that reminds me. Frell says he saw you once when he was a kid not much older than Erid. Back in the Sulari fighting pits before they closed them to the public. Is it true, what they say?”

  “Depends on who they are and what you heard, I guess.” Kaitar fished a pepper bloom stick from the tin case in his duster, almost dropping it as the rover hit a bump. When the vehicle steadied, he put the reed to his lips. “People say all sorts of things that aren’t true.”

  That I killed a hundred men in those pits, for one.

  “That you killed men in those pits,” Romano went on, blunt as a mallet. “A hundred of them.”

  Kaitar lit the cigarette with a match and inhaled until his tongue and throat went numb. “I saw a hundred slaves die for the pleasure of those Sulari princes, Romano. If you think there’s any fucking glory in that . . . heh. Take a good, hard look at Mi’et and that arm of his.”

  “What does Mi’et have to do with those pits?” Leigh asked, gripping the roll cage. “He got his scars from a Firebrand accident when he was a greenhorn.”

  “I heard it was a fire out in the shipping yard where Avaeliis sends in stuff through the Senbehi tunnels,” Romano put in. “That there was a faulty shipment of cells and when he picked up the crate, it went off and scorched him before he could get away.”

  “That’s what I mean about people saying things that aren’t true.” Kaitar puffed his smoke. Far above on the western horizon, where the sun was starting its long march toward night, a red hawk soared over the scrub. The hawk dove into the shrub like an arrow, screeching, and vanished in the tangle. As they passed close to the little line of acacia and thorn, Kaitar saw the blur of red wings and the shine of scales as a snake died beneath the raptor's talons. The rover sped by, leaving the animals far behind.

  “You are saying you know what happened?” Leigh asked.

  He did not reply. It was not her business to know the details of that last fight between himself and Mi’et.

  “Damn, how do you scouts manage to stay sane out here? All I see is rocks and bushes and sand.” Romano wiped his brow. “We’ve come about . . . sixty-seven miles so far, according to the GPS. That’s not very good time, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Too many gullies and too much loose sand.”

  “It’s the desert, Romano,” Leigh said. She’d pressed back up against the water barrels again, sipping from her canteen. “It’s a job. You’ll be back in Dogton in a few days. Get us to Pirahj.”

  “I’m trying, but damn, it’s boring the hell out of me already, just sitting here and driving with nothing to look at.” The Junker sighed, shrugging. “And I hate to say it, but you two aren’t the best of company, either.”

  Kaitar chewed the last nip of his cigarette. “There’s plenty out here; you’re just not looking. We passed a hawk eating a snake a minute ago. Did you notice that? Did you notice it’s going to be sunset in another two hours? This is threk country, and you might see a few of those tonight.”

  Romano grimaced. “I hate threk.”

  “Threk aren’t the worst things out here,” Kaitar said. “Be glad we don’t have to get too close to the eastern edge of the Sand Belt. This time of year, with the storms that come over the deep sands, the Nith’ath are around that region.”

  “Nith’ath? What’s a Nith’ath?”

  “Something like a worm,” Leigh said. She screwed the cap back on her canteen, almost spilling some as the rover bumped over a sandy hillock. “Except . . . different. I’ve heard they are armored, like a scorpion, and live far out in the Sand Belt. They’re Enetic animals; part of what happened when Toros fell.”

  Romano snorted. “Doesn’t sound like a big deal. If we see any worms, we’ll just run them over with the Draggin.”

  “They aren’t worms,” Kaitar said. “They are long like one, yes, and have no legs, and they do have armor like a scorpion, but they aren’t worms. They’re a lot bigger, for one. I’ve seen some at the edge of the Belt that could swallow this rover whole. They come up during the storms, rise up like . . . pillars . . .” He trailed off, not knowing how to explain any further. The thought of Nith’ath left him wanting more pepper bloom.

  “There are Nah’gatt out in the Sand Belt, too. And Gemmin,” Leigh said.

  Kaitar’s fingers brushed the tin case in his pocket again, tracing the smooth edge. Disgusted with himself, he pulled his hand away.

  I keep at the smokes like this, I’ll run out days before this is over.

  “Now, Gemmin I know about. And Nah’gatt are just old ghost stories.” Romano jammed the rover into third as they eased up a rocky, sandy slope. The tires spun, kicking up a cloud of dust that must have been visible for miles. “I was too young to help with that last Toros Bloom. Frell was on the team that came up with the static Bloom-nets. He told me the Sulari made such a mess of organizing a defense against Toros, Avaeliis pulled back trade and support with them, and that’s really what made them fall. After that, their irrigation systems failed, the Gemmin were everywhere, and by the time Neiro made it to the desert, the Sulari were already done for.”

  The rover plowed over the crest of the hill. “But all that stuff . . . all that Toros stuff that was going crazy out here in the old days? It’s gone. Or in the Belt now,” Romano went on. “Contained. And if we do see a threk or a Nith-whatever, I’ve got something special just in case. Speed.” He gave the Draggin’s dash an affectionate pat.

  “You can’t outrun a bullet, though. Not
even in a Draggin,” Kaitar said. He pretended not to notice Leigh’s cool, appraising look as he spoke. “This rover makes too much noise. If there’s bandits or squatters anywhere out here, they’re not going to have any trouble tracking the dust cloud, either.”

  “I know you prefer your mule,” Leigh said. “But Romano’s rover is much faster and doesn’t need food or water. We’re still in Dogton territory. There are no bandits or squatters here, or else we’d . . . we Enforcers . . . would know about it.”

  “You Enforcers miss half of what goes on out here. That’s why Neiro has scouts.”

  Leigh tilted her chin, her jaw set in a hard line. “If this is going to be some lecture on Shyiine superiority, I don’t want to hear it.”

  Romano shot them both a dubious look, but kept his silence, frowning as he tightened his grip on the wheel.

  Kaitar sneered. “I don’t give a shit about Shyiine superiority. What I’m worried about is the fact an ambush can happen at any time, anywhere out here. Near Dogton or not. There aren’t enough Enforcers or scouts to know who might be sneaking around, and this rover will just make it easier to get spotted. You can’t take anything out here for granted. Nothing. And. . .”

  What am I trying to say? That already I feel like I’m walking on a knife edge out here? That Neiro’s fucking us over on this one? That he never should have sent Gren out alone in the first place, and now he’s trying to cover up his mess by risking us, too?

  “And ‘I’ what, Kaitar? Your job is to scout, Romano’s job is to drive, my job is to save Gren.”

  “Hey,” Romano said. “Let’s drop it. I’ll do my best to get you guys to Pirahj without any mess ups.”