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Part 8: 10,000 FINS
Maira left before dawn broke. Salem and Annalise had stayed up most of the night with her, retiring only after several stories. As they got up to leave Salem had said, ‘I wonder why he never wanted to share these stories with us.’
Maira packed the gun away securely, stowed her jacket and her glasses in her bag, and tightened it flat against her back. Clad only in a vest, a pair of loose slacks, and her sturdy ship’s boots, she set off at a run. She took a lap of the grounds before turning towards Bolthead, staring fixedly at the tip of the spear under construction. If she ran hard enough, she wouldn’t have to think.
She arrived out of breath and drenched in sweat at Bolthead Scrappers. Slipping inside, she opened up the ship; the cargo bay yawned dark and deeping, a cavern to swallow her up. Maira took a shaky breath and stepped inside.
It was, of course, just like any other ship, and Maira found herself a little disappointed. There was a haunted presence about it, but only in the sense that no bodies yet filled it – she would have to find a crew. Could she employ some people in Bolthead? She had no money for that, so the first few jaunts would have to be by herself. She wandered the empty gangways in a funk of exhaustion and anxiety, chewing at her future: What came next? A few short hops, taking it day-by-day, until she could find some people willing to sign on in the promise of future coin? Brigands, vagabonds, the types who’d be willing to plunder any ship on the horizon? Maybe she’d be better off trading in illegal light, she was equipped for it after all…
She found herself in the captain’s quarters. In the grey twilight it looked old. She wanted to wipe the dust from the memories of her father, but they coloured everything, even this space. Proud, Patient Captain Deanfleet – was that her? Was she trying to live up to a legacy? She approached the desk, watching the steel sky lightening over Bolthead; the light filtered through the clouds after a fashion, but it was never beautiful. Her sightline took in mounds of junk and a shanty town ever expanding over the air docks. Her hand brushed against the magnetic disk and she thrust a hand into her pocket, drawing out the silver coin. She placed the edge against the disc, considering. But she sighed and drew it back, shoving it deep into her pocket.
‘Not again,’ she said. ‘Not yet.’
Instead she turned and entered the bedroom. It was expansive, larger than she was used to. To one side was a small room practically the size of a closet – a private bathroom, complete with shower. She thought about using it, then made a face; no maintenance for decades probably did a number on the plumbing. Instead she chucked her bag on the floor, threw the covers aside, and collapsed into the large double bed. She was asleep in an instant.
When Maira awoke, it was to the smell of strong black coffee. She opened her eyes – light filtered through various portholes to give her a dim view of the room. Someone had put a cup of coffee on the bedside table for her. She sat up and took a sip – lukewarm, but it’d do. She got out of bed and wandered up to the captain’s cabin. Ham sat at the desk, poring through a ledger.
‘Morning, Ham,’ Maira managed, blinking in the comparatively bright light. ‘What time is it?’
‘Later than you’d like, probably,’ Ham replied. ‘The money came through this morning. Should I thank Argyle for getting to the Council Chambers so quickly?’
Maira laughed and shook her head.
‘Salem,’ she said. ‘He’s gonna be a good Administrator.’ She grimaced, and Ham fixed her with a knowing smile.
‘You’re not going to get on with Administrators soon,’ he said. ‘This boat’ll put you on the wrong side of the law and no mistake. But we’ll be up to code as much as we can – I’ve already fitted some of the morse code array. I just need some more wire, and I’ve ordered a new aerial.’
‘A new one? Isn’t the old one perfectly fine?’ Ham grimaced and held up his hands.
‘Only good for radio communication. We need another array just for morse so I figured, I’ve got plenty of fins for it now; why not spring for a brand new array that can handle both?’
‘Good thinking Ham,’ Maira sighed, sitting in one of the fixed chairs on the other side of the desk. She made a face and splayed her legs. ‘Fin’s sake, these chairs are uncomfortable!’ Ham chuckled.
‘Yeah, they are! He told me to get the worst chairs I could for other people to sit on in here. Said he didn’t want them in here any longer than they needed, soft furnishings only encouraged complaints. Well I like to think I did pretty well.’
‘You did great, really,’ Maira said, turning sideways. It was marginally more comfortable. Marginally. ‘Ham, I’ve been thinking…’
‘What about?’
‘Well, crew. When I set out I’m not gonna have any crew, and I don’t have the money to hire anyone straight away…’
‘You’re worried about finding the right people?’ He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t be. Just the name of your ship will draw a lot of good sailors straight to you. You just need to be able to vet them.’
‘Exactly. Which is why I want to make you an offer.’ He glanced up at her, still buried in his finances.
‘What sort of offer?’ he asked carefully. Maira finished her coffee, leaning on the desk as she set down the mug.
‘I want to offer you a stake in the Fallen Star.’ Ham nearly dropped his ledger. He slammed the book shut and set it on the desk.
‘I’m not going with you!’ he cried. ‘I’m too old for all that lark! Besides, I’ve got the Scrappers to run! I can’t just up stakes and sail the skies with you!’
‘Why not?’ Maira asked. ‘You’ve got plenty of fins now. I’m asking for 10,000 fins, and in return you’ll get an equal stake in this venture. We split loot fifty-fifty until we get more crew, and we adjust as things go.’
‘And what about my junkyard?’ Ham asked desperately.
‘How much would it cost to hire a hand for a year? You hire seasonal help every year, surely there’s someone you know who could look after the place and keep it profitable for you?’
‘Well, maybe,’ Ham said, aware he was rapidly losing steam in this argument. ‘But I’ve already done my time up there! I can’t be climbing ropes and dodging rifle fire at my time of life!’
‘I wouldn’t ask you to. Ham, I know how to work on a ship but I’m a greenfly when it comes to engines. I need an engineer to help me look after this beast.’
‘Well why not go down to the docks and put the call out? Like I say, a lot of people would jump at the chance to fly on the Fallen Star.’
‘Yeah, and a lot of them are chancers. I need someone I can trust with the engines. Look, if it helps I’ll even throw in a guarantee: I’ll give you back that 10,000 fins at the end of the year. You don’t lose out, and if we end up operating a loss you’ve got the captain of the Fallen Star owing you.’
‘How are you planning on making all that money?’ Ham asked pointedly. Maira shrugged.
‘Taking contracts, flying cargo,’ she said, avoiding his gaze. Ham harrumphed, folding his arms.
‘Maybe running a little light?’ Maira added, glancing his way. She grinned; he couldn’t hide the glint in his eye. He rolled his eyes and held out a hand.
‘Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal,’ he said, as Maira grasped his hand. ‘When do we start?’
‘As soon as we’re ship-shape,’ Maira said. ‘How long on those parts?’
‘Shouldn’t be more than three days, and I can hurry the man along if need be.’
‘No rush, there’s plenty else to fix. First, the en-suite – how long has it been since the cistern was cleaned out?’
Never, it turned out. The rain filter had become a black fuzzy mat of microbes, and some plant life was growing through it. She tossed the whole thing and spent the rest of the day inside a person-sized bucket, shovelling moss out of the wood with a trowel and scrubbing the whole thing down with bleach.
‘We’ll need to flush the system through a few times,’ Ham said. ‘I’ll get a tub down underneath, I’ll let you know when you’re good to go.’
‘Underneath? Does it just dump the waste water into the sky?’ Maira asked.
‘Yep!’
‘That’s disgusting!’ she cried, a horrid little gleam entering her eye. ‘Did dad ever drop it over someone?’
‘On purpose or accidentally?’ Ham said with a grin. ‘Because I’ve got stories for both!’
Maira pulled herself onto the roof and slid down to the catwalk.
‘Alright,’ she said, ‘we’ll leave that to soak and purge it tomorrow morning. What else needs doing tomorrow?’
‘Well we need to look at the rudder linkages,’ Ham said. ‘And we should take down the old radio antenna before the new aerial array arrives. Apart from that, maybe dust the cargo bay?’
‘We’re going to be two people on a big ship,’ Maira said. ‘Do we have a system to communicate between each other?’
‘Yeah, it’s called yelling really loud,’ Ham said. Maira rolled her eyes.
‘Thanks Ham,’ she deadpanned. ‘That’s so helpful. Alright, well we can think about that when we’re airborne, see what we really need. Otherwise, I guess I should start thinking about destinations. Any ideas?’
‘You’re the captain, captain. But if you want an old skyfarer’s advice: Medicine Leaf is a good shout. It’s a week’s flight but it’s a company town – there’s always good haulage work available, but the smugglers do good trade too. In fact, I think they’re having something of an industrial dispute at the moment – if we can get above the clouds, we could make some bank by providing the workers with some light.’
‘Hmm… possibility of legal work, but with the chance to do illegal acts of charity? Sounds pretty good, Ham!’
‘Have you got any contacts there? Might be able to wire ‘em, find out if there’s any good work going at present.’
‘I might,’ Maira said distantly, recalling a couple of retired captains. ‘I’ll send some messages, see what I get.’
‘Good,’ Ham said. ‘Now that’s the last advice I’ll give you. If you start asking me what to do when we’ve got a full crew, they’ll fleece you for all you’re worth! Better that I’m seen as a grease monkey and nothing more.’
Maira grinned and nodded. It was exhilarating, the feeling that this was all really happening. But deep down she felt the knot in her stomach – there was a lot of road ahead, and many points of failure along the way.
‘Back to work,’ she muttered to herself, and made her way into the ship.