Blood Ocean (26 page)

He slammed another length of bottle.

Had the status quo been that bad? Sure, there were the unfortunate few who were selected for monkey-backing. And he felt bad for them, he really did, most of the time. But not everyone was destined to make it. Some had to die. What did the Americans say?
You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs?

The boy had come up with a good plan. The ringer for them all had been the zeppelin, but Kaja had devised a way to deal with that, too. There was a balance of power that had remained in the floating city for decades, a balance that had allowed Ivanov to survive despite himself. Now the balance was on the brink of being destroyed. All it needed was for someone to give it a nudge, and that someone looked like it was going to be Kavika.

Victor sat back, holding the bottle to his chest, and thought about everything, past and present. He’d lost his own sense of balance in the universe. His decisions had been formed by relationships and promises he’d been forced to make in order to survive.

Like father like son. Kapono had been the same way. He’d discovered that Victor had been working with the others and had threatened to tell everyone about it. On the outside, Victor had feigned indifference, but on the inside, he’d been worried about the Japanese needing to find someone else to deal with. And as long as they had the grain and potato that he needed to create his absolution, he needed to remain their trusted man.

Kapono was as trusting as his son. Both cut from the same cloth, both wanting to believe the best of people. Didn’t they know that people only showed what they wanted others to see—what they could afford to reveal?

Valeri opened the door and slid into the empty seat across from Victor. He had a cup of steaming coffee, smelling of burned seaweed.

“What are your orders?” he asked.

“Forty degree down bubble and then level off.” Victor grinned at the idea of just leaving. He had enough power to go. Even though he had nowhere
to
go it just might be worth it, especially if he could rig some way to see the faces of the Nips when they realised that their secondary power source had disappeared.

Valeri smiled wanly. “If only we could leave. We wanted to years ago.”

“We should have,” Victor admitted.

“It’s really too late for that, I think.”

“Nothing’s stopping us. We could close the hatch, vent the air, pressurize and dive. There’s nothing that could stop us.”

“Abe wouldn’t appreciate that,” Valeri said.

Victor stared at his second in command. “How long have you been—”

“A few years now.” Valeri reached out and snatched the bottle of vodka. “None of us have a future here. We’re just trying to hold onto what was.”

“So you decided to find your own future.”

Valeri smiled sadly.

“What happened to chain of command? What happened to following your captain?”

“Don’t sound so hurt, Victor. We’ve ceased to be a ship for some time now.”

Victor knew the truth when he heard it. “Why them? Why not the Nips?”

“The Japanese have limited scope. Besides this and another half dozen floating cities, their ability to hold other locations is tenuous at best.”

“So The Real People?”

“Rediscovered Dawn. They’ve been around since The Cull. They have their fingers in everything. There’s nowhere where they don’t have someone waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Victor eyed the closed door and noticed that it was locked. Valeri held the coffee in one hand, but his other was hidden beneath the table. “I’ve spoken to Abe at length, but he’s never asked me to do anything on any scale.”

“That’s because he had me. What does he need with an alcoholic washed-up submarine captain?”

Victor snatched the bottle back from Valeri and took a swig, grimacing. He could feel the coming of the end; he was being out-maneuvered, running out of space.

“So what are
your
orders?” Victor asked.

“Find out what that rag-tag group of yours has decided, then have you foil their plans. The Rediscovered Dawn survive best when people don’t know where they are. They are more powerful as an idea than as a reality.”

“And you expect me to tell you?”

“Why, of course, Victor. Why wouldn’t you?” Valeri smiled maliciously. “After all, we’re shipmates.”

“What if I was to tell you I am also in the employ of The Rediscovered Dawn?”

Valeri’s smile faltered. “You’re kidding, right?”

Victor shook his head.

“Then I’d have to ask to see your tattoo.”

“Yours first,” Victor said through clenched teeth. “Abe doesn’t like it when people pretend to be one of us.”

For the first time Valeri appeared to be unsure of himself. He placed the coffee on the table, then brought up the hand that had been in his lap. He peeled back the sleeve of his left arm to reveal the symbol of The Rediscovered Dawn. The scarlet semi-circle was vivid against Valeri’s white skin.

Victor nodded. “Good. I’d figured he’d convinced you, too, but I couldn’t be certain.”

“Now you,” Valeri said, carefully rolling his sleeve back into place.

Victor adjusted his grip on the bottle. “Hold this,” he said.

Valeri leaned forward, reaching for it, but instead of handing the bottle over, Victor brought it around in a savage arc, smashing into the side of Valeri’s head without breaking. Valeri slumped sideways on his seat, his head falling against the bulkhead.

Something metallic clattered to the floor. Victor set the bottle down and reached under the table; Valeri had been concealing a knife, the kind formerly worn by Russian marines.

Victor had always regretted doing the Corpers’ dirty work and getting rid of Kapono. One of the main reasons he’d taken his boy under his wing was to try and make up for his disloyalty. But now things were coming to a head—he’d made too many deals with too many people, and now he was being asked to choose sides.

Who he’d end up with, he didn’t know. He had to take things one at a time. His first order of business was to remove Valeri. Victor hefted the knife, then tested the edge with his thumb. It would do. He pulled Valeri off the chair and onto the floor, and straddled the other man. He had his knife ready, but first he needed to remove some clothing.

Something about dismemberment helped take the edge off.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T
HEIR PLAN WAS
equal parts insanity and genius. It required cooperation and trust, something that had been in short supply in the floating city. This was something the Japanese and the Real People had long capitalized on; if they were able to keep people at odds with each other, then they could remain relatively unnoticed as they went about their business. Until Leilani. Her life and death had galvanized the outrage of her friends and family alike, bringing them together in a way that had never occurred before.

Kavika and Lopez-Larou’s first stop was the silver and black barge that Donnie Wu had taken him across. Lopez-Larou and Chito had known it was a slaver, but Kaja had had no idea.

“What’s a slaver ship doing in the city? Some of our own are working there. I’ve seen them.”

“Wu sort of explained it to me,” Kavika said. “Those without family, those with no affiliation, those without living space were sent to the slaver barge, where they indentured themselves of their own free will. In exchange for making rice in the holds and other odd jobs, they were given a place to stay and sustenance. Anything they earned over and above that went to their home ship.”

“I can’t believe Princess Kamala would allow that,” Kaja said.

“Do you really find it so hard to believe, Kaja? After everything she said to me?”

Kaja frowned. “I suppose not. It’s just so damn depressing to think that we have to do this to our own people.”

The evacuation took place under the cover of the deepest part of the night. Clouds shrouded the moon. Leb opened the doors to the Sky Winkers’ ships to allow the evacuees a temporary place to stay. It was important that no one in the zeppelin or Freedom Ship had any idea that the slaver ship was empty; it would be needed later on.

The Water Dogs had their own preparations to make, as did
Los Tiburones
. Kavika didn’t envy Lopez-Larou’s job. She had to sell the plan to Paco Braun and Sanchez Kelly. Not only was it going to be a dramatic shift in their customer base, but the very nature of the chit would be redefined.

As a part-time Pali Boy, Kavika had never had any use for chits. All of his food, lodging and the everyday things he needed to survive were provided by the Princess and her staff, down to and including medicine for his sister. Sure, he was
aware
of chits, and what they meant to others aboard the floating city, but he’d never thought he’d be in a position to care beyond that.

It was Lopez-Larou who finally explained it to him. Pali Boys, Water Dogs, Sky Winkers and all the other groups had the potential to operate without chits, but
Los Tiburones
were utterly dependent on them. They could provide drugs, but they needed something of value in return. There was enough food to go around, and no-one tolerated hoarding. Drinking water was plentiful, provided by the Freedom Ship and the submarine, which had the means to desalinate seawater.

So
Los Tiburones
had created their own currency. They called them chits. The value of a single chit fluctuated greatly, but converting them was a standardized process. When a chit was cashed, the person who issued it was required to produce a good or service for the benefit of the holder. There was an acknowledgement that a chit could not be cashed if doing so would harm either party—it was too close to blackmail or extortion—but enough chits could indenture the purchaser for a long time. They could be traded from one person to another, but they remained tied to the person who’d issued them. So a chit from Sanchez Kelly, thanks to his notoriety and social status, was more valuable than a chit from someone working aboard a refinery ship and squeezing diesel fuel from oil.

To
Los Tiburones
, chits were everything. And Lopez-Larou had the almost impossible job of selling them an idea that had no worth.

So how was she going to sell it?

One possibility had been to count on the social consciousness of the two kingpins, but that was quickly determined to be a lost cause. Neither Sanchez Kelly nor Paco Braun
had
any social consciousness; there were as likely as not to sell their mothers for a few extra chits.

Another option had been to use their past respect for her father, but that, too, was dismissed. Their respect had been predicated on an understanding of her father’s capacity for violence and revenge. Now that La Jolla was dead, the little respect remained was what allowed Lopez-Larou to survive as the proverbial thorn in their sides.

She’d finally settled on laying out the truth. She wasn’t smart enough to determine what new form of currency could be used. Perhaps the chit system would survive, even if the value fell. But it was just as likely that something else would surface to replace it. She knew that one could never underestimate the need for people to medicate their lives through drugs, or doubt that desperation would kindle a mechanism for trade.

It was a given that there would be a great upheaval once the plan went into effect. Knowing in advance might enable the drug lords to prepare something. Regardless, their support was needed.

Kavika spent the evening with his mother and sister in their new cargo container. The fresh air and sun had done much to change his mother’s demeanor. Color had returned to her skin, her hair shone, and her sad eyes, as she beheld her daughter trembling in the clutches of Minimata Disease, held a new purpose.

Kavika combed his sister’s hair and sang to her like he’d done before the disease had attacked her. When he finished, his mother did the same to him. He was too old for such attention, but allowed it anyway, pretending for a few stolen moments that everything was as it used to be.

Near midnight, Kaja came and asked him to follow. Kavika went to ask what it was about, but the Pali Boy leader’s stony face promised no response. When they reached the center of the ship, they climbed to the top of the containers. Nine stories up, they could see the lights from all the ships, twinkles of life in an otherwise dark and restless sea. But his attention was fixed on what was at hand. All the Pali Boys were arrayed before them. Never before had Kavika seen them all in one place. There were more than a hundred of them, and to Kavika’s utter shock, all of their eyes were on him. For a moment he wanted to bolt and run; the memory of his beat-down from the sky was still fresh. But then he saw everyone’s smiles. They seemed happy that he was among them.

“What is this?” he asked.

“A ceremony,” Kaja said, motioning for him to come to the center. Lights ringed a man-sized space. An ancient man with ruined legs sat and smiled toothlessly, the tools of a tattooist around him.

“What kind of ceremony? Kaja, what’s going on?”

“I’ve told you that you are now a full-time Pali Boy.”

“Even though I haven’t made the leap?”

Kaja gave Kavika a sly smile. “Given the chance now, I know you’d have no qualms about making the leap. You’ve done more than that. You’ve established your bravery in ways that no one else can compete with.”

Kavika lowered his gaze. He felt pride, but he also felt embarrassment, especially now that all the eyes of the Pali Boys were upon him.

“We also want to honor you,” Kaja said, his voice carrying the authority of a leader and loud enough to be heard by all. “We have not always treated you as a brother. There were times when we felt you were living off the notoriety of your father rather than carving your own path through the waves. But that was then and this is now.”

“That was then and this is now,” said the others in unison.

“You once were beaten from the sky, but that was then and this is now.”

The others chorused the phrase.

“You were once just a kid, but that was then and this is now.”

“That was then and this is now.”