Ship Breaker (Ship Breaker #1)(20)

“How long you think we can keep this a secret?” She jerked her head back to the beach and the ship-breaking yards. “From all them.”

“Maybe a day or two,” Nailer guessed. “If we’re really lucky. Then someone comes out. Fishing boat or a trader will spot it, even if the beach rats don’t.”

Pima’s lips compressed. “We got to claim this for us.”

“Fat chance.” Nailer studied the broken ship. “No way we can defend a claim like this. Patrols will be looking for it. Corporate goons. Lawson & Carlson will want a piece, if it’s full salvage—”

“It’s salvage all right,” Pima interrupted. “Look at it. It’s never going to move again.”

Nailer shook his head stubbornly. “I still don’t see how we can keep it to ourselves.”

“My mom,” Pima suggested. “She could help.”

“She’s got heavy crew. If she disappears to come down and work on it, people will notice.” Nailer glanced back toward the beach. “If we aren’t back for light crew tomorrow, people are going to wonder where we are, too.” He massaged his aching shoulder. “We need goons. And even if we got thug muscle, as soon as they knew about the ship, they’d take it for themselves, too.”

Pima chewed her lip, thoughtful. “I don’t even know how to register scavenge.”

“Trust me, no one’s going to let us register this.”

“What about Lucky Strike? He’s got contacts with the bosses. Maybe he could do it. Keep Lawson & Carlson off us.”

“And he’d take it away from us, too. Just like everyone else.”

“He’s giving out food right now,” Pima pointed out. “No one else is doing that. Advances for anyone who can bring two friends to vouch they’re good for it once work gears up again.”

“We’re just licebiters to him. He doesn’t need rust from us. Food’s one thing…” Nailer stared at the wreck in frustration. So much wealth, if only they could lock it down. “This is stupid. We’re just weighing copper in the ducts. We have no idea what’s on board. Let’s go in and see what we’re talking about.”

“Yeah.” Pima shook her head. “You’re right. Maybe there’s something good and light we can hide. Then we’ll decide about the rest.”

“Yeah. Maybe there’ll be a reward for the ship, if we report it.”

“A reward?”

Nailer shrugged. “I heard about it on a radio play once, at Chen’s noodle shack. You get bounty for helping someone out.”

“Why don’t you just call it bounty, then?”

Nailer made a face. “ ’Cause they called it a reward.” He spat. “Come on. Let’s check it out.”

They made their way over the last rocks to the ship. At low tide, the hull was surrounded by ankle-deep water. A few fish sat in pools, others lay beached on the sand, rotting with streamers of seaweed. Up close the ship got bigger. Not like the rusting monoliths of the Accelerated Age, but still, it loomed over them. Pima clambered up the shattered edge of the clipper and slipped inside, her hands fast and accomplished from years on wrecking crews. Nailer followed more slowly, hoisting himself aboard with his one good hand.

The ship was on its side, so crawling through its passages was a bit like being in the ducts, an unexpected familiarity to something that should have been so different. Nailer scanned the wreckage. Glints of metal, bits of people’s clothes strewn around, all kinds of junk, the stink of rotting fish.

“Swank stuff,” he said. He fingered a gown that looked like it was silk. “Look at this clothing.”

Pima made a face of dismissal. “Who needs clothes like that?” She clambered out of the hole and up onto the cant of the upper deck, scrabbling along until she found hatch access. A minute later she called, “I found the galley!” Then whistled. “Come look at all this!”

Nailer struggled up to join her. The galley was trashed, all fallen out, but many of the bins of food were still locked in place: rice and flour in sealed containers. Pima started unlatching drawers. Bottles spilled out in a rain of broken glass and the puff of spices. She wrinkled her nose and coughed.

Nailer sneezed. “Slow down, crewgirl.”

“Sorry.” She coughed again. Opened a locker. Meat spilled out, spoiled already in the heat, big floppy steaks better than anything they could get anywhere on the beaches. They both put their hands over their mouths, breathing shallowly as stink enveloped them.

“I think they had electric cooling in here,” Nailer said. “It’s the only way they could have kept all that meat.”

“Damn. They had it good, huh?”

“Yeah. No wonder Old Miles was so sad he got kicked off.”

“What’d he do?”

“He said he was drunk, but I think he was selling red rippers.”

Pima peered inside the locker, looking to see if anything was worth saving. Pulled her head out gagging. The reek of the spoiled meat was too strong. They kept going through the ship.

They found the first body in one of the cabins, a shirtless man, his eyes still wide, crabs lurking in his guts. Pima turned away, gagging at the smell of death in the closed room, then peered in again. Fish flopped in a shallow pool beside the man’s head. It was hard to tell if the man had drowned or if the ugly gash on his forehead had done him in, but he was dead.