Ship Breaker (29 page)

“Why don’t they just shoot down our sails?” Nailer asked.

“They may. Once they’re within a mile, they can torch the parasail with a chemical round.”

“But they won’t light us up the same way? Sink us?”

The captain exchanged glances with Reynolds. “Chavez is greedy. If she can take us as a prize, she’ll call us pirate. If she wrecks us, tangles us, and sinks us, she doesn’t get the money.”

The two ships sliced across the ocean. Sometimes it seemed as if
Dauntless
had gained a little ground, but when Nailer looked again, always the pale ship on the horizon had grown. He shivered at the sight of the other clipper, hunting them like a shark.

The captain pointed again at the map. “If Nailer’s right, we can slip these Teeth here, and it will even look as if we’re intending to hide.”

“If he’s right,” Reynolds emphasized.

“I am,” Nailer insisted. “I know that water.”

“Ever sailed it?”

Nailer hesitated. He wanted to tell them that he had. That he knew the waves. That he knew he was right.

“No,” he admitted. “But I know the Teeth. I’ve seen them at low tide.” He pointed at the numbers on the map. “If your charts are right about the old depths, at high tide, you can run straight across. Right here.” He pointed to the edge of the island. “Between the island and the Teeth, there’s a gap.”

“It’s an invitation for a sinking,” Reynolds said. “High tide won’t be until dark, so you won’t have much for landmarks, and GPS margin of error might not tell us we’re wrong until we’re dead on some old I-beam.”

“I know where it is,” Nailer said sullenly. “I know the gap.”

“Yeah?” she asked. “In the dark? With only moonlight? With one chance to get it right?”

“Let the boy alone,” the captain said.

Nailer glared at her. “You’ve got a better idea? You’re dead either way, right? What are you going to do? Surrender? Let them call you a pirate and string you up?” Nailer scowled. “You swanks are damn soft. You’re afraid to gamble even when you’re already dead.”

The ship lurched underneath them. Everyone reached to catch their balance. Candless and Reynolds exchanged a look. All afternoon the seas had been thickening, and now, as they came out on deck, the water was running high and rough. The hydrofoils kept the
Dauntless
above much of the chop, but as the waves grew higher, the prow of the ship was starting to bury itself in foam. Candless studied the high-altitude parasails where they flew against gathering clouds.

“We’re not going to be able to stay up on the foils much longer. Not with the ocean running like this.”

The ship surged through another wave, rocking. Water rushed over the decks as the ship plowed out of a trough. The deck tilted abruptly as one of the foils lost its grip in the foam. Nailer grabbed a railing for support. The ship righted itself and lunged forward again, dragged by the parasail high overhead. The storm clouds darkened and roiled like a seething cauldron of snakes. Lightning flickered in their bellies.

“Is this a city killer?” he asked.

The captain shook his head. “No. But still a complication. Makes everything more ticklish.”

“We can dodge them in the storm,” Reynolds suggested.

“They’ll have their radar on us, pinging us the whole way,” Candless said. “The only way we escape is if we leave them wrecked.”

“You could get Miss Nita killed if she’s aboard.”

Candless scowled at Reynolds. “You think I don’t know it?” He looked away. “It’s an ugly business. We’ll put a crew of boarders on, try to pull her off in the confusion.”

“You don’t know it will work.”

“Thank you, Reynolds. I appreciate your input. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let us all die because we’re too squeamish to take the one advantage we’ve got.”

Dauntless
hurtled through the storm. When the winds became too uncertain, the captain ordered the high sail reefed. It came down, its monofilament wire ripping and squealing as the cannon reels dragged the flapping parasail toward the deck. A shriek rose over the lash of the storm. The reel jammed. Knot and Vine and Trimble hurried for the cannon. The parasail whipped sideways in the wind and
Dauntless
heeled with the sudden shifting drag.

From the con, through the rain, Nailer could see the crew fighting with the reel. Beside him, Captain Candless held the ship’s wheel. He shook his head. “Tell them to cut it,” he said.

Nailer looked at him uncertainly.

“Go, boy! Now! Cut it loose.”

Nailer dashed down to the deck. He barely remembered to hook himself to an anchor before he went out into the wind’s lash. A wave washed over the prow of the deck, knocking him off his feet. He skidded into the main mast with a numbing impact. He struggled to his feet and stumbled across the pitching deck.

“Cut it!” he shouted over the storm’s roar.

Knot glanced at him, then up at the captain. A blade came out and with a fierce slash, the monofilament line parted. The wire whipped up and away, writhing like a snake. The parasail disappeared into cloud belly darkness.

Watching it go, Nailer wondered if the ship had lost an advantage that they would miss later. Knot gave him a sad little smile. “Can’t be helped, boy.” And then he was running to join the rest of the crew as they unfurled the main sails in the storm.

Nailer watched in awe as the crew fought to do their work. Rain slashed them. The seas rose and tried to drown them with huge surging waves, but still they grimly wrestled the ship to their will. And
Dauntless
responded. She surged through the stormy sea, lunging into wave troughs and then climbing their slopes before plowing down into the next deep liquid ravine. All around, waves rose high and monstrous. Nailer clung to the rail, clipped to his safety lines and out of the way of the feverish work as the crew fought their ship forward.

Night fell heavy on them. Except for the occasional blast of lightning, it was black. Somewhere behind them,
Pole Star
pursued, but Nailer couldn’t see it and had no idea where it was. It was nice to pretend that its sleek outline wasn’t back there, hunting, but it was a fantasy.

Eventually Captain Candless gave the word and they started shunting toward the coast, running closer to where they would attempt their trickery. Despite night blindness, the
Pole Star
would follow, sniffing at them with its radar arrays. And indeed, when Nailer finally ducked out of the elements to drink a hot cup of coffee,
Dauntless
’s main radar showed the bloody blip of the fighting ship closing still.

Nailer sucked in his breath. “They’re close.”

The captain nodded, his face grim. “Closer than we’d like. Go aft and look.”

Nailer ran to a ladder and climbed up through the ship’s aft hatch. Rain beat down on him. Salt foam rushed around his ankles as the ship tore through another wave and climbed sickeningly.

Nailer stared back into the slash of rain.

Lightning ripped the darkness and thunder exploded. The
Pole Star
appeared, closer than he would have guessed, rising over a wave crest and crashing down again. It disappeared again into the darkness.

When Nailer returned to the con, the captain said, “They kept their high sails up longer than we did. They’ve got a more stable ship.”

“What are they going to do?”

The captain stared at the radar blip of their pursuer. “They’re going to threaten us and then they’re going to board us.”

“In the storm?”

“They’ve fought in worse seas. The Arctic is the worst fighting on the planet. They aren’t afraid of a little rain and waves.”

The captain leaned close to Nailer. “Just between us, boy, you’re sure about those teeth?”

Nailer made himself nod, but the captain didn’t let him go. “This is a gamble. The kind I don’t like. The kind that killed Miss Nita’s last ship, you understand?” He jerked his head toward the decks, indicating his crew. “Maybe you think your own life’s cheap, but you’re risking everyone else here, too.”

Nailer looked away. “In clear weather…” He trailed off. Finally he looked up at the captain. “I don’t know. In the dark? In a storm?” He shook his head. “I’ve been out on the bay, and been through the gap, but I don’t know if it will work or not. Not like this.”

The captain nodded. He stared back again into the darkness where their pursuer lurked. “Fair enough. Not the answer I wanted. But honest. We’ll trust the Fates, then.”

“You’re still going to try?” Nailer asked.

“Sometimes it’s better to die trying.”

“What about everyone else?”

Candless was solemn. “They knew the risks of coming with me when we left the Orleans. There were always safer options than crewing with an old loyalist like me.” He pointed to the nav screens and the infrared feeds of the shoreline, glowing green before them, flaring with lightning flashes. “Now be my eyes, boy. Help us find safe harbor.”

Nailer watched the screens. The shadows of shoreline showed, lit by more lightning flashes. A cannon boomed behind them. A missile streaked overhead.

“She’s afraid we’re going to make a run into the jungles,” Candless observed.

Nailer looked back. “Are they going to sink us?”

“
Pole Star
is not your problem!” The captain grabbed Nailer’s shoulder and pointed him forward. “Your problem is out there! Show me where we need to be!”

Nailer bent to the screens, scanned the black shoreline ahead. The island glowed on screen. He frowned. No. That was wrong. It was some other hill. Everything was different in the dark and rain. The ship heaved through the waves.

“I don’t see it,” he said. He tried to peer though the rain-spattered glass. Saw nothing but blackness.

“Look harder, then!” The captain’s fingers dug into his shoulder.

Nailer stared at the darkness. It was impossible. The land in the scopes’ view was all a blur of vegetation and selfsame coast. He stared into the rain again, looking through the forward windscreens. Another slash of lightning. Another. And then a ripping crack of thunder. He saw the island and gasped. They were too far off.

“Back there!” He pointed. “We’re past it!”

The captain cursed. He hurled the wheel over, calling orders to the crew. The sails cracked and flapped ineffectually. The ship rocked violently as a wave took it from an unexpected angle. The shadow of a crewman plunged from the mast, then jerked to a halt, dangling precariously from a harness. The sail’s boom swept across the deck.
Dauntless
came around. Suddenly the great bulk of the
Pole Star
loomed over them, bearing down.
Dauntless
was wallowing in the waves, her sails flapping uncertainly. Down on the deck, Nailer could hear Reynolds shouting, “Make fast! Make fast!” as she prepared the crew to run aground. “Hands on the pumps!”

Pole Star
was on top of them. Nailer could see half-men on the gunwales, twirling grappling hooks, eager to leap aboard.
Dauntless
’s sails flapped and then suddenly filled with wind.
Dauntless
surged forward again, gaining speed.
Pole Star
threw herself up beside them, seeking to grapple, but
Dauntless
lunged past, carried by the surf.

“Right!” Nailer yelled. “Go right!” He could see the island. The teeth were already beneath them. The big ones would be. They were going to run aground.

“
Starboard
is what we call it,” Candless said dryly as he spun the wheel. The man seemed strangely relaxed suddenly.
Dauntless
surged forward, shoved by the waves toward the rocky outcrop of the island, and then they were sucking through the shallows and past the island and the Teeth.

The ship settled into the bay’s relative calm.

“Storm anchors!” Captain Candless shouted as the crew furled the ship’s sails.
Dauntless
wallowed, then shuddered and swung about as prow anchors bit. Waves rushed against her sudden immobility. She turned with the waves, her nose pointing out into the surf, and then the aft anchors dropped and the ship stilled.

Nailer clambered down from the conning deck and out into the slash of the rain.

“Launch in two!” Reynolds shouted. “Prepare to board!”

Lightning flashed. The great bulk of the
Pole Star
was coming for them. Nailer clutched the rail as the monster roared in. “Fates,” he whispered, and touched his forehead. He hadn’t realized he was religious until just now, but suddenly he found himself praying.

Reynolds came up beside him, watching the fighting ship plow down on them. “We’ll see if you’re right, boy.”

Nailer’s throat was dry.
Pole Star
surged forward, seemingly planning to simply crush them under its weight. As it poured through the surf, Nailer was suddenly seized with a new terror: In the high seas of the storm, the Teeth would all be much deeper under water.
Pole Star
could slip across after all. Despair engulfed him. He hadn’t thought about the storm surge. No wonder
Dauntless
had come across unscathed even when they were in the wrong position.

Pole Star
was reefing its own sails and slowing, guiding itself with the minimum acceleration so that it could come up beside them and board. Nailer watched with sick despair. He’d been wrong. He thought he’d been so damn smart, and now they were going to be boarded, all because he hadn’t thought of all the details.