“You are fortunate enough to be aboard one of the most modern vessels in all the world. We are equipped with a triple-expansion steam engine, a fresh water distiller, the most advanced security features.” He twirled a pencil in his fingers. “All of which are quite costly to maintain. We will need to be reimbursed for the costs of your passage.”

  It’s the company store all over again. Everyone knew the trick. Lure workers to a remote location where they’d be dependent on the organization for food, clothing, everything. I thought it was a thing of the past.

  “Yeah,” was all I could manage.

  He asked questions about my skills and abilities, mentioned a few place names I didn’t recognize, and concluded with, “Good day to you.”

  I stepped out of the cabin. The guard didn’t touch me, the way villainous jailers are supposed to. He didn’t shove me, didn’t spit out a stream of derisive words like ‘get back to your cell, lowlife.’ He shot me an expressionless glare and motioned down the corridor.

  “How was the meeting?” asked Shard.

  “When are they going to release us?” Clara stepped toward me, clasped my shoulders. “My meeting is tomorrow, maybe they’ll let me go once they figure out I’m supposed to be released anyway.”

  “It’s a game. It’s all a big game.” I slumped against the cabin wall, relayed the events of the meeting to the others.

  “So you’re free,” said Milla. “But not really free.”

  “Something like that. I don’t know why, though. What they’re doing. Any real court would have to take our side.”

  “Except we can’t get to a court, real or otherwise,” said Henning. “Unless… I don’t know, maybe it’s plausible deniability for corrupt city officials.”

  “I believe it is far worse than that.” Shard stood at the far corner of the cabin, arms crossed, eyes fixed on me. “I may not understand human culture like you do, but it seems humans like to put things in cages.”

  “But we’re already in their cage,” said Milla. “Why the mumbo-jumbo?”

  “It would appear they are not content to put our bodies in a cage of iron. They wish to construct a cage for our minds as well.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Chain clanked against the hatch as our captors undid the locks and bars of our cabin. The hatch opened with a metallic groan, Malconar himself greeting us. Flanked by a pair of guards, of course.

  “Good afternoon passengers.” Malconar’s voice boomed with such confidence, I could almost believe he was on our side. “Norwood brought it to my attention that your group has gone five days with no incidents or infractions.”

  “Yes, captain,” said Clara.

  We’d found out that even though he wasn’t a ship’s captain, Malconar liked the title.

  Henning, Shard, and I responded in kind a moment later, the others remaining silent.

  “Assuming you keep things that way, I can generously offer you a full half hour on deck today. Compliant behavior is rewarded.”

  “Yes, captain.” I hated saying the words, but fought back my feelings. The exercise did us good, especially Shard.

  “Very good. We may be letting some of our other passengers out for a little fresh air as well, so if any of the crew ask for your assistance, you will give it to them, won’t you?”

  “Yes, captain.” Once again Clara was first. I didn’t mind, it allowed me to mumble the words, which hurt less than speaking them.

  We proceeded single file along the corridor, up a ladder to the main deck to find the other passengers in question to be a flock of caprids.

  Henning glanced at the gray sky, thick layers of clouds. “Could be a squall coming.” He shrugged, ambled along deck.

  Shard set off at a run as he usually did, back and forth along the length of the main deck several times before leaping from deck to cargo hatch back to deck. The crew never questioned it, merely looking on, occasionally spouting a derogatory phrase here or there.

  I assumed nekos needed more exercise than humans, though Shard never directly spoke of it.

  He leapt to the loading crane at the center of the cargo deck: a mast with a pair of diagonal poles and rigging. Jumping to one of the poles he pulled himself up, scampered a few steps toward the tip before slipping on the inclined pole, dropping to a straddle position, and sliding back to the base.

  One of the crew pointed at him, slapped a companion on the shoulder, saying, “Oh, that’s gotta hurt the old jewels.”

  “Haha, stupid neko thinks he’s found a tree.”

  I pulled myself to the operator’s platform just above the base. “Are you OK?”

  His ears twitched as he gazed down at me. “Fine. I’m a fool for slipping, but at least the pain is a distraction.” He hopped from the outer pole to the mast, which was thicker, with climbing rungs on one side, and ascended to a little platform near the top.

  “Hey, get down from there,” shouted one of the crew. “If a passenger dies on our watch, there’ll be trouble.”

  “He’s fine,” I snapped. “I’ll get him down.”

  I climbed arm over arm, taking at least twice as long to reach the platform which Henning had called a ‘crow’s nest.’

  “You didn’t need to come after me. I’m not going to fall.”

  I turned to speak to the crew member below. “Just give us a minute. It’s not like we can go anywhere here.”

  The crew member shrugged, barked something at Henning and pointed at the caprids.

  “You’re right. It’s not like we can go anywhere,” said Shard. “And I thank you, but I really am fine.”

  He scooched to make room—the platform was clearly designed for one.

  I wiggled between the platform and a thin handrail, perching next to him.

  “I had imagined a sea voyage differently.” He glanced at me, up at the clouds. “I knew about storms, about sea monsters, poor rations, being confined to a small vessel. In my head, it would be worth it to see exotic lands. In my head, excitement would keep fear in check. I would climb masts, see distant horizons—not so different from treetops.”

  “Don’t like confined spaces?”

  “No.” He blinked slowly, lapis-blue eyes sparkling even in the harsh overcast light.

  I put a hand on his shoulder.

  He smiled a little, leaned over to brush his chin against my cheek. “Every day I try to wear myself out, make myself too tired to care what the crew says to us, too tired to care when it’s time to go back into the cage.”

  “Not working today, huh?”

  “It never does.”

  “The cage is only temporary.” I kneaded his neck a little. His eyelids drooped shut. He uttered a low purr. For all his attempts at clamming up, Shard had to be the most transparent person I’d ever met. “We will get out of here. You have to believe it.”

  “Hey, we need the crane,” came a shout from below. “If you don’t get down from there it’ll be straight back to your cel—cabin for all of you.”

  “Come,” I said, giving his shoulder one last squeeze.

  He responded with a cute little whine.

  We descended to the deck and were immediately pressed into cleaning up a few ‘accidents’ from the caprids, and shooing them back into pens. Caprid pens were lowered through a hatch to the deck below, with a single, much larger cage brought back out.

  A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

  “Hope they don’t plan on letting that thing out on deck,” said Henning.

  “Yeah, it would be fun to watch it hunt you all down,” said one of the crew, who overheard.

  “And bet on who survives the longest,” added a second.

  “That wouldn’t be very profitable for your captain though, would it?” I said.

  The first crew member grumbled and went back to work.

  A cage larger than our entire cabin thunked to the deck. Within it, a feline creature with long snow-white fur, huge ears, and a twin row of spines along its back glowered at us.

  “An arc panther,” said Shard.

  Even crouching in the far corner of the cage, the creature, tall as I at the shoulder, had to weigh a solid ton. It growled, low and deep, huge, ice-blue eyes strikingly similar to those of Shard.

  “How are we supposed to clean its cage?” said one of the crew. “I’m not going near that thing.”

  There was a flash of light, another long rumble of thunder.

  “Use pole clamps to hold it down,” said another.

  “It’d take a dozen men to hold that thing in place.”

  The creature shifted, trying to back further into the corner of its cage. Its wide eyes flitted between the various crew. Electric sparks formed along the tips of its spines.

  “It is a she,” said Shard. “And if you wish to clean its enclosure, let me handle it.”

  Shard, are you crazy?

  He glanced at me. “I will need your help.”

  “Me? Are you crazy? I’m not gonna—”

  This time it was his hand on my shoulder. “It’s OK,” he whispered. “The creature is simply frightened. Trust me. I can calm her, but I need you to do the actual cleaning.”

  I blew out a long breath. I wanted to escape. And technically death by giant snow panther creature was an escape of sorts, but not the one I had in mind.

  He put a hand on my other shoulder. “If we don’t, they could hurt the creature trying to restrain her.”

  Better her than me.

  No. This is important to him.

  “Fine,” I said. I turned to the crew. “But half an hour on deck from now on.”

  They nodded.

  “Do as I do.” Shard glanced at my… ass? What an odd time to check me out. “But stay behind me. Since you don’t have a tail, I will have to be your alpha.”

  Eh? What?

  I nodded.

  He looked at the creature, ears twitching. He dropped to his knees, then hands and knees, his tail straight up.

  I followed suit. Though sans-tail.

  He crawled toward it, uttered what sounded like a deep cough.

  No way I could duplicate that.

  But I crawled behind him, somehow feeling terrified and silly.

  He twitched his ears, coughed again.

  The panther lowered the spines along her back, cocked her head.

  Shard stood, thrust his arm into the cage, hand balled in a fist.

  Shard, there is no fucking way I’m going to do that.

  The panther responded with a cough and stood—taller than I was at the shoulder. She plodded towards Shard, rubbed her chin on his fist. Shard opened his hand and began to pet the creature’s long fuzzy ears.

  “You may clean the cage now,” he said.

  “I… gotta pick up a few things first.” Starting with my jaw from the deck.

  I grabbed a shovel that I really wished had a longer handle, and tentatively poked it between the bars of the cage.

  The panther looked at me, back at Shard, and pressed her massive head into Shard’s palm again.

  I shoveled panther dung for the next minutes while Shard petted the creature’s head, all the while thinking I was the one with the preferable job.

  Shard nodded to me, whispering, “Come here. You shouldn’t miss this. She has the most wonderfully soft fur.”

  “You want me to pet that… that…”

  “She’s a sweetheart. She was just scared.” He cocked his head. “Couldn’t you tell how defensive her body language was?”

  Her body language? How about mine?

  I gazed into his eyes. His entire expression was calm. And somehow infectious. He believed to the core of his being that the arc panther was a gentle creature. And something about him made me want to trust him. “OK,” I choked out.

  He took my hand in his, placed it on the creature’s head.

  Her fur was dense, soft, and left a hint of fragrant oil on my palm.

  With each stroke of my hand, my heart calmed.

  I stood aboard a ship, held captive by smugglers, awaiting an unknown fate. We plowed through a sea teeming with ravenous sea monsters, while less than an arm’s length from me stood a huge predator. And yet in this moment, I was at peace.

  “Thank you, Shard,” I whispered.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The group tried to be diligent, noting every feature of the ship we could see, picking up any scraps we might use as a tool or weapon. But our captors were no fools. Real weapons and tools were securely locked. And Zo and Jetta were subject to extra security—usually in the form of bindings whenever they were out. Between the seven of us, we’d managed to collect a coin, a small chunk of pumice stone, a few copies of their ‘help wanted’ fliers, two empty sardine tins, and a butter knife. How Brianna manages to keep everyone’s spirits up, I don’t know. She’s constantly inspecting our cage, examining the little bits of trash we’ve collected, questioning the others on every detail they notice during our half hour of freedom. She and Henning are the only ones with the right attitude.

  I glared at an odd spot on the wall. “There’s a crack in the wall. Is that a problem?”

  “A crack? Where?” said Brianna.

  “Are we sinking?” Clara’s voice was an octave higher than normal.

  Milla groaned. “The only thing worse than being trapped in a tiny cabin aboard a ship, is being trapped in a tiny cabin aboard a sinking ship.”

  “We’re not sinking,” said Brianna.

  “No!” I said. “It’s not on the outside part of the ship.”

  “The hull,” said Henning.

  I pointed to the corner nearest the hatchway. “Just below the ceiling.”

  “A way out?” Brianna stepped toward it. “Henning? Any idea?”

  Henning inspected it. “Looks like a gap between two plates that was painted over at some point.”

  “Could we pull apart the panel?”

  “Nope. It’ll be riveted together. We’d have to chisel out the rivet and… hmm…”

  “What? What’s hmm??” There was excitement in her voice. We needed it.

  “Can’t see any rivets. Gimme the butter knife, let’s see if we can scrape some of this paint away.”

  “Be careful! If they see we’ve damaged the ship, we’ll be punished,” said Clara.

  “Yes, yes,” Brianna said. “Scrape it off along the groove, it’ll look like it cracked with age if any one bothers looking. Shard, you have better nails than I do, follow it along the other side.”

  I sidled beside her, ran my nail along the right side of the panel.

  “Hey! I was right!” Henning had a lilt in his voice I’d never heard before—genuinely excited. Even if this panel goes nowhere, the lift in our spirits is worth it. “There’s a screw head hidden under the paint.”

  We worked around the edges of the panel—it was small, about the size of a breadboard, just above eye level, with four screw heads at the corners.

  “Too small to fit through,” I said.

  “Maybe an access panel?” suggested Henning.

  “It’s not like we have anything else to do at the moment, let’s get it off.” Brianna first tried the butter knife, then the coin.

  One screw nearly didn’t come off, but we took turns, eventually working them all loose.

  I held my breath as I pulled it free.

  “With our luck it’ll be full of rats,” said Milla.

  “A little extra protein never hurts.” I pulled it off, scattering dust and shreds of old paint to the floor.

  “Pipes,” said Henning.

  I extended my hand into the opening.

  Henning slapped it away. “Be careful with that! Could be a steam pipe.”

  Brianna wetted the end of her shirt sleeve, tapped it against one of the pipes. There was no ominous hissing.

  I touched it with my fingertips. “It’s cold. Maybe a water pipe?”

  Henning tapped it. “Sounds hollow.”

  I wished I knew more about advanced technology. If I’d only read fewer pirate books, more technical ones. Though in the past days I was getting solid instruction on dealing with humans. Brianna was an excellent role model for how to deal with Milla, especially.

  I put a hand on Brianna’s shoulder. “Does this help us?”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt us.”

  “Unless they see what we’re doing,” said Clara. “Put the cover back on.”

  “I can’t see in very far. Shard, you’re the lightest of us. Henning, you and I boost him up a little.”

  Each of them supported one of my legs, bringing me to eye level with the opening.

  “Two more pipes behind these. They all look about the same… I… hang on.” I was able to slide my hand between the pipes. Just like hunting for grubs in a rotting stump. Though humans don’t seem to appreciate the value of insect protein. The gap was cold against my skin, the pipes covered in dust and grit. I reached in all the way to my armpit. “Someone left a tool in here.” I pulled out a rusty screwdriver.

  Henning snorked. “Now we find a screwdriver.”

  “Probably left there by a workman years ago,” said Brianna.

  “So we now have a screwdriver.” Milla thrust her fists into her hips. “But the only place we really needed it was to get that cover off.”

  “Put the cover back on.” Clara retreated to the corner of her bunk, hugging herself. “We don’t want trouble.”

  I cocked my head. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Lift me up again.”

  I pressed my ear against the nearest tube.

  “What is it?” said Milla.

  “Voices. Which I can’t hear if you’re talking.”

  She shook her head, slumping to the floor in the furthest corner.

  “Is somebody coming? We have to get the panel back on!”

  I stared at Clara a moment long. “We’re fine.”

  She nodded.

  “A woman’s voice: ‘Engineering reports lubricating oil is fine.’ A man’s voice: ‘Good. We don’t want to restock supplies like that in Xin.’ Another man’s voice: ‘We can ask at the ogre encampment about the rest.’”

  “Boost me up,” whispered Henning.

  He stared into the opening. “Those are speaking tubes!”

 

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