Paolo Bacigalupi - Ship Breaker

Pima had enough sense to shut up and duck down. Nailer’s dad examined her. “Yeah. Smart girl. I thought you wanted to shut the hell up. No sense, kids these days.”

He grinned at his goons. Blue Eyes and Moby grinned back. Tool just studied Pima with his dog eyes. “You want me to teach her a lesson?” he rumbled. “Remind her?”

Richard asked, “What do you think, girl? You need a little lesson from Tool here? Maybe see if he teaches any better than me?”

Pima shook her head. “No, sir.”

“Look at that.” Richard smiled. “Polite now, ain’t she?”

Nailer tried to intervene. “How come the swank’s still here? Where’s her people?”

Richard’s attention swung back to Nailer. “Wish we knew, don’t we? Girl says there’s people looking for her. Says someone gives a damn. But nobody’s come looking. No ships. No people in on the train, looking on the coast. Not a single swank showing up, asking questions.” He licked his lips as he studied Nita. “It’s starting to look like no one gives a damn about one little rich girl. Maybe she’s not even worth her kidney weight. Be tragic if we ended up scavenging our rich girl for spare parts, wouldn’t it?”

“Should we try to reach out to her people?” Nailer asked. “Find a way to tell them where she is?”

“Wish we knew where they were. From over in Houston, she says. The Uppadaya Combine. Some kind of shipping clan. Lucky Strike’s got some people trying to track them down.”

Nailer startled. “Uppadaya?” He broke off as Pima flashed a warning signal. Nailer glanced at her, puzzled. Why had Nita lied about her name? If she was really with Patel Global, there should have been ways to contact her people, right here on the beach. “What’s your plan?” he asked instead.

“Hard to say. I’ve been thinking she must be worth a lot, seeing as how swank she is, but I’m also thinking that she’s a bit of trouble for us. Maybe these Uppadaya have big connections, boss connections, the kind that bring their skull-crackers in and make trouble for hard-working people like us.” Nailer’s father paused, thoughtful. “Maybe I’m thinking she’s too damn dangerous and we’re better off if she’s feeding the pigs. We already have her ship, and sure as hell she knows too damn much about us now.” He said it again, quieter. “Too damn much.”

“But she’s got to be worth something.”

Richard shrugged. “Maybe she’s worth a whole hell of a lot, and maybe that’s even worse than if she’s worth nothing.” He looked up. “You’re a smart kid, Nailer, but you should pay attention to your dad. I’ve got some years on my skin, and I’ll tell you, a swank like her always means trouble for people like us. They don’t give a copper yard about us, but they sure like their own. Maybe they pay us for her and then maybe they come back with guns and clear us out like a snake nest, instead of saying thank you.”

Nita protested. “We wouldn’t-”

“Shut up, swank.” Richard’s voice was flat, disinterested. He turned his cold eyes on her. “Maybe you’re worth something. Maybe not. But I know for damn sure that your flapping mouth annoys the hell out of me.” He pulled out his knife. “I hear much more out of you and I think I’ll take those pretty lips off. Make you smile even when you’re sad, little swank.” He stared at her. “You think your crew would want you back without your lips?”

She fell silent. He nodded, satisfied. He sat down with Nailer, put his head low, close, almost touching. Nailer could smell the sweat and whiskey of him, see the redness of his eyes.

“You had the idea, boy.” Richard glanced at the girl. “But the more I think about it, the worse it sounds. We got a big score off the ship. Everything’s going to be different now. We’re damn rich, all set up with Lucky Strike. That clipper’s down to the ribs now. Got real crews stripping it. Another couple days, it’ll be like that ship never existed.” He grinned. “Not like breaking one of those old tankers. These little ships come apart easy.” He glanced over at Lucky Girl. “This girl doesn’t do us any good, though. Maybe she makes big bosses pay attention to us. Maybe she makes us targets. Maybe gets people asking questions about scavenge and where it came from and who owns it and who gets rich from it.”

“No one would say anything to the swanks.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Richard muttered. “They’d sell their mothers for a chance to pull a Lucky Strike.”

“Give it time,” Nailer whispered. “Give it a little time and we’ll be even richer.”

All he could think of was how badly he wanted to get away from his father with his twitchy eyes and fast, high smile, the face of a man deep in his slide.

Richard’s eyes went to the girl again. “If she wasn’t so pretty, I would have bled her out already. She draws too much attention.” He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

Nailer said, “Maybe we can get her people to pay for her without knowing who sold her. She’s still secret, right?”

Nailer’s dad grinned. “Just my crew.” He studied Blue Eyes and Moby and Tool. “Maybe too many, though. Secrets don’t keep when someone’s throwing cash around.” He glanced at the girl. “Keep an eye on her for another day; we’ll see what turns up.” He stood and Nailer struggled to his feet as well, but his father pressed him back. “You stay here. Rest. Sadna’s asking questions about where you and Pima went. I’m playing dumb, you know? Don’t want anyone else knowing what’s going on. Make sure they don’t make any trouble.”

“Sadna’s looking for us?” Nailer tried to keep the hope from his voice.

“She heard a rumor maybe we found Pima.” He shrugged. “She’s got no cash, though. And no one talks without Red Chinese in their hands.” He turned and nodded to Tool and Blue Eyes and Moby. “Keep ’em tight.”

The three of them nodded, Blue Eyes smiling, Moby swigging from his bottle, Tool impassive. Richard disappeared into the vines and night screech of the jungle, a pale skeleton of a man fading into the blackness.

When Richard was gone, Moby grinned and took another swig from his bottle. “You’re running out of time, girlie,” he said. “Your people don’t show up quick, maybe I’ll take you for my own. You look like you’d make a nice little pet.”

“Shut up,” Tool rumbled.

Moby glared at him but closed his mouth. Tool glanced at Blue Eyes. “You watching first?” Blue Eyes nodded. Tool pushed Moby a little ways away, both of them bedding down in the nearby bushes. Soon a snore marked where Tool lay, and Moby’s voice, complaining still, was barely audible through the ferns. Mosquitoes swarmed around them. Nita slapped miserably at the bloodsuckers. Everyone else ignored them.

Blue Eyes came over and put a chain cuff around Pima’s wrist, then turned to Nailer.

“You going to give me trouble?”

“What?” Nailer gave her a look of incredulity. “You going to tell my dad you put a cuff on me? I’m the one who came up with this Lucky Strike.”

Blue Eyes hesitated. She seemed tempted to chain him as well, but also uncertain, not entirely sure if he was a captive or an ally. He stared back at her, challenging. Nailer knew what she was seeing, a skinny ribbed boy just out of a fever and crazy Richard Lopez behind him. It wasn’t worth it.

Sure enough, Blue Eyes gave up on the idea. She sat down on a rock and picked up a machete, started sharpening it. Pima and Lucky Girl stared at him, their eyes full of meaning. The fire burned lower. He didn’t like his father’s hints. The man was on the verge of decision and anything could tip him.

Nailer stretched out on the ground beside Pima. “How’s your fingers?”