Ship Breaker (Ship Breaker #1)(10)

Almost as beautiful as the sight of Sloth getting kicked down the beach, her eyes wet with tears for herself, while he was getting stitched up. Bapi had put his knife through her light crew tattoos himself, disowning her completely. She’d never work as a ship breaker again. And probably nowhere else, either. Not after breaking blood oaths. She’d proven that no one could trust her.

Nailer had been surprised that Sloth hadn’t protested. He wasn’t about to forgive, but he respected that she hadn’t begged or tried to apologize when Bapi got out his knife. Everyone knew the score. What was done was done. She’d gambled and lost. Life was like that. There were Lucky Strikes and there were Sloths; there were Jackson Boys and there were lucky bastards like him. Different sides of the same coin. You tossed your luck in the air and it rattled down on the gambling boards and you either lived or died.

“It’s the Fates,” Pima’s mother muttered. “They’ve taken you now. No telling what they’ll do with you.” She was staring at him with an expression that almost looked like sadness. He wanted to ask her what she meant, but Pima came in through the door with the rest of the crew.

“Hey, hey!” Pima said. “Look at our crewboy!” She inspected his puckered wounds and stitches. “You’ll get some nice scars out of this, Nailer.”

“Lucky scars,” said Moon Girl. “Even better than a tattoo of the Rust Saint’s face.” She handed him a bottle.

“What’s this?” Nailer asked.

Moon Girl shrugged. “Luck gift. God’s got you tight, now. I’m getting close to God.”

Nailer smiled and sipped, was surprised at the quality of alcohol that burned his mouth.

Pima laughed. “It’s Black Ling.” She leaned close. “Tick-tock stole it. Crazy licebiter just walked out of Chen’s noodle shack with it. He’s got no sense, but he’s got fast hands.” She pulled him toward the shore. “We got a fire going. Let’s go get drunk.”

“What about work tomorrow?”

“Bapi says that storm’s coming for sure.” She grinned. “We can strip wire with a hangover, no problem.”

The crew gathered around the bonfire, swapping drinks. Pima went away and came back a little while later with a pot of rice and beans and then surprised Nailer again with a stick of grilled pigeon. At his look of surprise, she said, “Other people want to get close to God and the Fates. People saw you come out of the ship. No one gets luck like that.”

He didn’t question any more but ate greedily, glad to be alive and eating so well.

They drank, passing around the rusty shiv that had nearly killed him. Considered the possibilities of turning it into a talisman, a decoration to hang around his neck. The buzz of alcohol warmed him, made the world seem even better than before. He was alive. His skin sang with life. Even the pain in his back and shoulder where the shiv had driven into him felt good. Being close to death had made everything in his life shine. He rolled his shoulder, savoring the pain.

Pima watched him across the firelight. “You think you can crew tomorrow?”

Nailer made himself nod. “It’s just stripping wire.”

“Who we getting for scuttle duct?” Moon Girl asked.

Pima grimaced. “I thought it was going to be Sloth. Got to swear in someone new to replace her. Get bloody with someone.”

“Lot of good that does,” Tick-tock muttered.

“Yeah, well, some people still keep their word.”

They all looked down the beach to where Sloth had been dumped. She’d be hungry soon, and needing someone to protect her. Someone to share scavenge with, to cover her back when she couldn’t work. The beach was a hard place to survive without crew.

Nailer stared at the bonfires, thinking about the nature of luck. One quick decision by Sloth, and everything about her future was decided. She didn’t have many options now, and all of them were ugly. Full of blood and pain and desperation. He took another swig from the bottle, wondering if he pitied her despite what she’d done.

“We could bring Teela on,” Pearly suggested. “She’s small.”

“She’s got a club foot,” Moon Girl said. “How fast can she move?”

“For light crew, she’d hustle.”

“I’ll decide later,” Pima said. “Maybe Nailer heals quick, and we don’t need a scuttle duct replacement.”

Nailer smiled sourly. “Or maybe Bapi cuts me out, and sells my slot. Then none of us get to choose.”

“Not over my head.”

No one said anything. It was too good a night to spoil it with bad speculation. Bapi would do whatever he wanted, but they didn’t need to pick that scab tonight.

Pima seemed to sense their doubts. “I talked to Bapi already,” she insisted. “Nailer’s got a couple days free. On the boss man’s quota. Even Bapi wants to get close to luck like his.”

“He’s not pissed that I lost that crude to other crews?”

“Well, that too. But the wire came out with you, so he was happy about that. You’ve got your heal time. Rust Saint’s my witness.”

It almost sounded good enough to believe. Nailer took another drink. He’d seen enough adult promises turn out to just be wishes that he wasn’t going to hold his breath, though. He needed to be crewing tomorrow, and he needed to look useful fast. He carefully worked his shoulder, willing it to get better. A couple days wire-stripping would be a blessing. If anything out of this whole mess was lucky, it was that a storm was coming.