Steel Tide, page 13
part #2 of Seafire Series
One of Harbor Master Lyall’s Bullets was nearly finished writing their names on individual nameplates and fitting them into a grid along the wall. Across from that were shelves containing stacks of linens and shower kits. Everything they could possibly need, and more than they usually had at their disposal.
Sledge waited in the center of the room, looking like he wanted to hurt something, while the crew filed in and circled up. Next to him, two young Bullets had the clip manifest and stood ready to receive each Blade and issue meal tickets. They were far into this now, and the tension was starting to reveal itself in clenching fists. They hadn’t prepared for this, and every second they spent here was another second they might be discovered.
Sledge, however, continued smoothly as though everything were as it should be.
“Find your name, grab your kit. Mess is two doors south. Be ready for dinner in ten, and I want to see everyone in this hall when the sun rises. No exceptions.” He paused. Caledonia felt his discomfort expand to fill the small space. These were orders a Ballistic would give his clip, not orders Sledge would give his crew. When he spoke next, his voice was low and heavy. “The day’s ration will be issued each morning with your meal.”
No one moved. They’d been prepared to take on the appearance of having Silt in their systems. They knew how to pretend. But this was a dangerous level of exposure. This was temptation.
“Grab your kits,” Sledge repeated darkly, eyes flicking to the Bullets around them.
Triple guided Caledonia through the unfamiliar steps of plucking their names from the wall, gathering linens and shower kits, then following the group into the bunkroom and claiming a bed. The mattresses were firm, the bed frames well maintained, and the sheets were made of a fabric so soft Caledonia almost looked forward to sleeping beneath them. When all the beds had been claimed and made, the group headed toward the mess.
“Won’t it be suspicious if we keep traveling in a pack?” Caledonia asked, though her stomach twisted as they stepped outside and she was reintroduced to the scent of fresh food.
“It’s not unusual for clips to keep together,” Triple answered softly, eyes scanning the darkened streets for trouble. “And it’s probably best that we don’t stray from the pack.”
Triple stepped into the crowd of Blades, but Caledonia hung back. Dusk was edging firmly toward night, and the street was lit by perfect rows of solar pips held aloft by slender metal arms attached to each building. Their light was so thin and icy that it turned the few Bullets that passed beneath them into ghosts.
There was a system to this city. It had taken them by surprise, but it hadn’t defeated them. They were inside it now and it could work for them if she trusted her new crew to know more than she did. She hated not knowing. But right now, she needed to sit with that discomfort and let her crew hold her up.
Her heart was just beginning to lighten when she noticed a figure walking beside her. He was a dark shadow in the corner of her eye with brown hair hanging low over his forehead and a dull nose. A Bullet. A stranger.
She lengthened her stride, attempting to catch up with the Blades several paces ahead. The stranger matched her, beat for beat. And when she dared a glance, he was looking directly at her. The instant he caught her eyes, he began to smile, lips curling curiously.
Before she could do anything more, Pine was there.
His fist snapped against the Bullet’s face, and he curled his body around the other boy in a move that was almost elegant. He spun, dancing them both into a shadowed alley. Pine’s hand caught the boy’s chin, and before Caledonia had drawn a single breath, Pine slid a blade behind the boy’s ear and straight into his skull.
Blood slipped around the hilt of the blade. The boy struggled once and then fell limp in Pine’s arms.
Shadows wrapped strong arms around them. The only sounds were the receding footsteps of their crewmates, heading into the mess hall.
“Pine.” It was all she could say.
He met her eyes. The Bullet that usually lurked just beneath the surface was here now. Hard, unyielding, unforgiving. He shifted his grip on the boy, holding the blade in place to control the flow of blood. Then he moved down the dark alley in search of a place to hide the body.
Caledonia waited, her vision narrowing to a single drop of scarlet soaking into the pale pavement by her toe.
She killed to survive. She had done so many times, but never like this. Never outside the context of battle. Had he even recognized her? Had Pine seen something she hadn’t?
No. He’d seen less than she had. She knew that. He’d reacted to the barest sliver of a threat because that was what he’d been trained to do.
Pine returned to her side. He reached for her elbow, then stopped himself.
She met his eyes, letting her conflict surface.
“Pine,” she repeated because she could think of nothing else.
With a sad nod of his head he responded, “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The dining hall was cacophonous and too bright after the dark alley. It was filled with ordered rows of tables and chairs, nearly all of which were occupied by Bullets enjoying a hearty dinner. Lines formed at either end of the long room. In one, fresh fruits and vegetables were piled high. In the other, hot dishes of every sort were offered. There was perfectly roasted fish in buttery sauces, tender vegetables drizzled in tangy sweet vinegar, mashed potatoes, fresh bread with seeds baked into a crispy crust. There was butter and gravy and all of it was there for the eating.
Caledonia’s mind struggled to release what had happened outside and behave like a Bullet. Over and over, her mind replayed the Bullet’s smile. Had it been menacing? Flirtatious? Or merely a friendly gesture? She was horrified to discover she couldn’t remember, and each time it replayed she pictured it differently. She would never know if he’d been a threat, or just a Bullet who smiled at the wrong person in the wrong moment.
She was equally horrified by herself. She didn’t blame Pine. He’d seen a potential threat and he’d taken care of it. She couldn’t be upset with him for that. But she should feel more regret than she did. Shouldn’t she?
Still lost in thought, Caledonia filled her plate until the surface disappeared. With each new addition, she felt her hunger taking over, urging her to add more of everything—grains, vegetables, shredded meat, a scoop of gravy. She topped it off with an additional slice of bread, earning a laugh from the cook behind the buffet. He was an old man, far older than any Bullet she’d encountered on the ocean, with a face that wrinkled and cracked so much around scars that it became a puzzle.
“Must’ve hit on hard seas this moon,” he said. Caledonia nearly smiled in return when he added, “The Father provides.”
She felt her expression hardening, her stomach knotting. Suddenly, the food on her plate represented so much more than the temporary end of her hunger. It represented Aric’s complete control. Beyond Silt, Aric controlled people by withholding something that should be accessible to everyone. He’d somehow managed to figure out how to clean the soil to grow food and then kept that secret to himself.
How could she enjoy anything that came from him?
“The Father provides,” a voice said from behind. Then a hand pressed her elbow and pushed her firmly forward.
She pulled away, irritation replacing every other emotion in a flash. “I don’t need rescuing.”
“Then move,” Pine responded quietly.
They spotted Sledge and joined the Blades at a table on the outskirts of the room. As she slid into her seat, Caledonia couldn’t stop thinking that just beyond these walls, the body of a Bullet was stashed in an alley. The instant it was discovered, they’d be in even greater danger than before.
“Eat,” Pine grumbled, climbing into a seat next to hers.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped, digging a fork into her fish. All around the room, the eyes of other Bullets were trained on them. “They’re watching us.”
“Of course they are. It’s because we’re the newest clip in town. Don’t watch them back,” Pine instructed. “Let it play out.”
Teasing scents of salt and herbs and butter rose toward her, and one bite was all it took to reignite her hunger. The first forkful was almost overwhelming, and for a brief second she was arrested by guilt. Her girls were certainly not having a feast such as this, and it felt like a betrayal to enjoy it. But they needed her strong if she was going to free them. And food, as Aric had so rightly determined, was strength.
“And who is this?” a voice called.
Caledonia’s head snapped up. A Bullet stood next to their table with a broad, eager grin on his face. Next to her she felt Pine coiling like a spring ready to strike.
The Bullet’s smile grew as he said loudly enough for the room to hear, “Is this our limp fish clip? Sailed into port with a broken screw and nothing to show for it?”
Smirks cascaded through the surrounding tables, and Caledonia’s pulse jumped. But a light touch on her thigh told her not to panic. Caledonia nodded just enough that Pine would know she understood.
Sledge sat up taller. “I am no limp fish,” he announced.
The Bullet raised a hand, dangling a dead fish from his fingertips. It was only a few inches long. Whole, unskinned, and certainly uncooked. “Prove it.” He held the fish toward Sledge.
The room was waiting for something. They’d stopped eating and turned to watch the scene unfolding here. Caledonia looked from the Bullet to Sledge, hoping the confusion didn’t show on her face.
After a long moment, Sledge stood and took the dead fish. The Bullets surrounding them began to drum their fingers on tables. Then Sledge tipped his head back and swallowed the fish whole.
The room erupted in cheers. Sledge and the Bullet clasped hands, and everyone returned to their meals. Whatever that was, it had worked. They’d been welcomed into the mess hall as if they belonged there.
“That could have been worse,” Pine whispered.
Caledonia only shook her head, driving her fork into a piece of salty meat and taking a bite. Between the murdered Bullet and the dead fish, her stomach was uninterested in food, but she ate anyway. There were vegetables she couldn’t name, grains she’d only ever had as a dried ingredient in seed cake, and the meat was so tender she could rip it apart almost as easily as bread. This was far more than she’d ever seen growing on Aric’s AgriFleet. More often than not, those ships supported primarily baleflowers, not crops, certainly not animals. There was more to Aric’s farming operation than she’d ever imagined.
She was just distracted enough that she didn’t immediately notice the moment a new tension warmed the hall. Sledge straightened in his seat, seeming to grow by at least a foot as he glowered over the heads of his Blades. In an instant, the chatter in the room shifted from a low, companionable murmur to something more frenzied and excitable.
Panic slicked down Caledonia’s spine like a cold sweat. She dropped her fork and scanned the room, sure that the boy in the alley had been discovered and they would be next. But instead of people entering the mess hall, she saw the opposite. Bullets were quickly clearing their tables and rushing from the room.
A knowing glance passed between Sledge, Pine, and Triple, and the three of them slowly rose to their feet.
“What?” Caledonia hissed.
“Time for theater.” Triple’s answer was grim but oblique, and there wasn’t room for anything more.
The hall was nearly empty now. If they didn’t follow, they’d certainly be noticed. Even the cook was closing up his trays of food and preparing to leave. Whatever theater entailed, it wasn’t optional.
Outside, they were swept along darkened streets until they came to an open square. On all sides, buildings stood with doors flung open to the night. Strains of music floated above the constant chorus of the crowd, and the air smelled faintly of alcohol. The cacophony upended the usual lock-step rhythm that governed the rest of town.
Behind them, more Bullets pushed into the square, forcing the Blades to keep moving. Pine’s hand gripped her wrist as they were pushed closer and closer to the front of the square and a raised wooden stage upon which two posts stood tall. There was no fighting the crowd. As more Bullets poured into the square from behind, Caledonia found herself perilously close to the stage.
To one side, two dozen children, each younger than Nettle, stood shoulder to shoulder with a clear view of the stage, still and alert. Whatever was about to happen, these recruits had seen it before. The only comforting thought Caledonia could muster was that this had nothing to do with her or the body she and Pine had left behind. This was Bullet business, and she just had to get through it.
A rhythmic pounding began somewhere ahead of them. It echoed off the buildings, growing louder and louder until it filled the square with an ominous pulse. In another moment, Caledonia located the source: a train of Bullets processed toward the dais, pounding staves into the ground as they entered the square. Before them, a boy, bound and stripped to the waist, walked calmly toward the stage.
The procession stopped, allowing a single figure to climb up the steps. A woman with ropes of silvered hair wrapped tightly around her head turned to face them. She wore robes of orange and the palest cream cinched around her waist by a belt of woven baleflowers. She was as old as the cook in the mess hall, and she was striking.
“Good tides, my siblings.” Her voice rose above them like a feather on the breeze, captivating and deceptively fragile.
“Good tides, Sister,” came the heavy response.
Deceptively fragile indeed.
“We’ve come here this eve to celebrate one of our brightest brothers. He has chosen to leave us, and we must cut him from our hearts. Little by little.” Her words were sculpted and dangerous, and they clearly communicated more to everyone around Caledonia than they did to her. “Bring him up.”
Two of the young guards raised their staves and moved toward the bound boy. Though he was outnumbered and unarmed, they moved with inexplicable caution. Instead of prodding him as Caledonia has expected them to do, they halted just shy of touching him, their nerves evident in the way they choked their weapons. The crowd roared, eager to move things along, and the guards drew new confidence from that anger, driving their staves into the boy’s back. He stumbled, but after a long second strode purposefully, even proudly, up the steps and onto the stage. When he turned to face the audience Caledonia nearly gasped.
It was Oran.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Onstage, Oran was perfectly calm, but Caledonia’s heart was racing.
She took in every inch of him, from the warm brown of his tree-ring eyes to the split on his full bottom lip, from the shadow of a bruise on his jaw to the wide planes of his cheeks. He was thinner than he’d been, every muscle in his brown torso cut into perfect relief. His ribs were darkened with cloudy bruises, but it was the old scatter of brilliant orange scars splayed like lightning across those bruises that trapped her gaze.
He raised his chin and looked out over the square. The audience seemed to draw back a step, and an unexpected silence snaked through the crowd. Then their fear morphed into anger and they roared.
Sister took a single step toward Oran and raised a hand between them. In it a long blade gleamed.
“Our brother was once the proudest among us. Fiveson Oran. We all remember the moment he disappointed the Father and fell from glory. But he has fallen farther still!” She paused, allowing space for the crowd to voice its disapproval. “He joined that mutinous radical, the still-at-large Caledonia Styx!” The crowd roared at that. “Attacked us where he once professed loyalty!” Again, the roar rose in the night sky. “And tonight we will give him exactly what he wants. We will cut him away.”
Now she brought down her knife, slashing through Oran’s bicep and his bandolier.
Blood wept down Oran’s arm, dripping onto the stage by his feet, but he made no show of pain. His only movement was the slow turn of his head toward Sister. His gaze was cold and deadly, and the entire audience held their breath with something akin to terror.
With a jolt Caledonia realized that it wasn’t Sister they feared.
It was Oran.
He was both the same boy she’d met on the deck of her ship and someone entirely new. These Bullets didn’t know him as she did. They knew him as something altogether different, and she was beginning to understand that he was still very much a stranger to her.
Sister swept her robes behind her and called out, “Recruits!”
The young children hurried to the ground just below the stage, and now Sister spoke to them over hands cupped delicately before her. “You are the next of us. You will be better than we are, and that begins tonight as you demonstrate your commitment to our family. Remember, we don’t want to kill him tonight,” she added with a smile that was almost maternal. “Tonight is only the beginning.” Now she turned to Oran, her smile transforming into something venomous. “If I recall, this was one of your favorites. I hope you enjoy it as much from the other side.”
Beside Caledonia, Sledge, Pine, and Triple clearly knew what to expect. But she couldn’t look at them without revealing to anyone who laid an eye on her that she did not.
“Begin,” Sister said.
A child stepped forward. He was tall and gangly with narrow shoulders and long fingers, and he reached into a basket on the ground and pulled out a small dagger. He shifted his grip a few times, testing the weight in his hand before, to Caledonia’s horror, he took aim, drew back his arm, and threw the blade.
The dagger plunged into Oran’s arm. This time he flinched, and a second trail of blood slid down his bicep. The dagger slipped out again nearly as quickly, thunking against the stage as it landed. The blade wasn’t long enough to stay put. Just long enough to wound.
