Ship Breaker (Ship Breaker #1)(58)

Cool water lapped around him, the darkness almost total. He kept swimming, making his way toward the beautiful ship. He had dreamed about ships like this, about being on their decks, about sailing on them, and now he was on the verge of sneaking aboard one.

When he thought about it, the only thing that had ever seemed truly beautiful to him were these ships with their carbon-fiber hulls and fast sails and hydrofoils that cut the ocean like knives as they crossed the great oceans or made their way over the pole. He wondered how cold it was in the North. He had seen photos of ships rimed with ice as they went through the polar night on their way to the far side of the world. The distances were immense and yet they sailed so fast and so sleek, undeterred.

It took fifteen minutes of swimming and his arms ached by the time he reached the Dauntless. He slipped beneath the docks, bobbing in the salt water, and listened. Conversation: men and women joking, talking about shore leave. Another complaining about resupply rates and local con men. He listened as he bobbed in the depths.

A pair of half-men waited at the gangway, keeping guard and another pair were on the ship fore and aft. He shivered. He’d heard they could see in the dark, and Tool had never seemed uncomfortable in dim light. Now, all of a sudden, the fear that they would pick him out in the blackness filled him with an almost paralyzing terror. They would see him. They would hand him to his father and he would die. His father would cut him open.

Nailer drew deeper under the dock, listening to the tramp of feet. A few conversations mentioned a captain, but no name to go with it… only “the captain” wanting to be under way. “The captain” having a schedule.

Nailer waited, hoping for some mention of the saintly Captain Sung. The waves jostled him. He was starting to get cold from a lack of exercise. Even this warm tropic water was starting to suck the heat from him. The floating dock and its anchor moved and swayed. Footsteps thumped overhead. The whine of a motor launch, someone burning biodiesel to reach the ship. Faces gleaming in the darkness. Men and women with scars and hard looks. Someone hurried down to greet the craft.

“Captain.”

The man didn’t respond, just climbed out. He looked back. “We need to be under way.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nailer waited, heart thudding. It wasn’t Captain Sung. This was a man, not a woman. And there was nothing of the Chinese about him. Lucky Girl had been wrong. Things had changed. Nailer forced down his disappointment. They’d have to find another way.

The captain was standing almost directly above Nailer. He spit into the water no more than a foot away.

“Pyce’s people are all over the docks,” he said.

“I didn’t see a ship.”

The captain spit again. “Must have anchored off site and shuttled in.”

“What are they doing here?”

“No good, I’m guessing.”

Nailer closed his eyes. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, he thought. The captain and his lieutenant were climbing the gangplank. “We’ll leave with this tide,” the captain said. “I want to be under way before we have to speak with them.”

“What about the rest of the crew?”

“Send back for them. But hurry. I want to be gone before dawn.”

The lieutenant saluted and turned for the launch. Nailer took a deep breath. It was a risk, but he didn’t have any other choices. He swam out from under the dock and called up.

“Captain!”

The captain and his lieutenant both startled. They drew their pistols. “Who’s there?”

“Don’t shoot!” Nailer called. “I’m down here.”

“What the devil are you doing down in the water?”

Nailer swam close to the planking and grinned. “Hiding.”

“Get up here.” The captain still was wary. “Let’s see your face.”

Nailer scrambled out of the water, praying that he hadn’t made a mistake. He squatted, panting on the deck.

“Dock rat,” the lieutenant said with distaste.

“Swank.” Nailer made a face at him, then turned his attention to the captain. “I have a message for you.”

The captain didn’t approach and he didn’t put down his pistol. “Tell me, then.”

Nailer glanced at the lieutenant. “It’s only for you.”

The captain frowned. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.” He called behind him. “Knot! Vine! Toss this rat back in the water.” The two half-men rushed forward. Nailer was stunned at how fast they were. They were on him, grabbing his arms before he even had a chance to consider fleeing.

“Wait!” Nailer cried. He struggled against the iron grip of the half-men. “I have a message for you. From Nita Chaudhury!”

A sudden intake of breath. The captain and his lieutenant exchanged glances.

“What’s that?” the lieutenant asked. “What did you say?” He stormed over to where Nailer was held. “What’s that you say?”

Nailer hesitated. Could he be trusted? Could any of them? There were too many things he didn’t know. He had to gamble. Either he’d gotten lucky or he’d walked into a trap. “Nita Chaudhury. She’s here.”

The captain came up close, his face hard. “Don’t lie to me, boy.” He took Nailer’s face in his hand. “Who sent you? Who’s behind you with lies like this?”