It’s not alive.
“We took in twice the gold we expected,” the Admiral says. His eyes light up the way they do whenever he talks about gold, and he cannot completely control the emotion in his voice.
It’s the same thing that happens when he needs to address the people, but this is raw. Unintended. Caught in glimpses instead of put on for a sermon.
“Ah,” says Sister Haring, satisfied. Bishop Weaver raises his eyebrows, and General Dale smiles.
General Foster actually presses his palms together in pleasure. “Wonderful,” he says.
“It was by far our most successful voyage yet.” The Admiral waits a beat before speaking again. “Even though no raiders were killed.”
The members of the Quorum each flicker with movement at this. An intake of breath, a folding of arms, a recrossing of legs. I feel eyes shift to me.
“No raiders died,” says the Admiral, “because our machine’s reputation is such that not a single one of them tried to board.”
General Dale folds his arms. “That’s interesting.” Our eyes meet. There is a challenge in his. As if he thinks my armor isn’t enough threat to keep the raiders away.
As if he’s forgotten all the rust-colored stains on the armor when the dredge has returned from other voyages. All the ways my prickling, moving gears have ground the raiders into pulp when they tried to board.
“We saw raiders along the banks, watching and following,” says the Admiral, “but none dared attempt an attack.”
We saw. That’s what he says. But the truth is that none of us in this room go on the voyages. The Admiral stays behind in his house on the bluff and I sit in my apartment down in the city. He thinks about gold and government and I think about killing and Call.
“It’s time,” the Admiral says. “We’re ready to cull the Serpentine.”
“Good,” says Sister Haring, at the same time that Bishop Weaver says, “At last,” his intonation like a prayer.
The Serpentine River. The biggest river in the area; the one with the most potential for gold. We’ve waited because it’s going to be the most difficult to dredge. It’s long and deep, and goes far into raider territory.
A small smile curls my lips, and I bow my head to hide my pleasure at the Admiral’s decision. I hope the raiders find the courage to try and board the ship. So we can cut them down.
“To ensure that everything goes smoothly, Lieutenant Blythe will be on this voyage.”
My head jerks up in surprise. He wants me to go?
That’s not what we agreed, I want to say to him. I designed the armor for the ship in exchange for my life and for the lives of the others on the dredge on my first voyage. My only voyage.
We lost the ship, we lost the gold. We knew the Admiral might order our deaths, but my revelation about the armor saved us. It gave me leverage. Something to bargain with.
I look at the Admiral, at his clear eyes and the very straight line of his mouth. I work for him. I live under his protection. And I never, ever underestimate the danger of my situation.
“This is the most important voyage yet,” the Admiral says. “I don’t want anything to go wrong. I want the killing mechanisms to work.”
“They’ll work,” I say.
“And you’ll be there in case they don’t,” he says, a cool finality in his tone.
If the Admiral tells you to do something, you do it.
Or you die.
You would think that after Call died, I wouldn’t care anymore about dying. But I do. I saw him. I saw his eyes looking up and seeing nothing. I saw how gone he was. I knew he was nowhere else in the world or beyond. He was over.
The Quorum watches.
Why does the Admiral want me to go on this voyage, and not any of the others? Has he decided that he’s tiring of me? Is this a trap of some sort?
That might be the case. It might not. Either way, I may as well make the most of the situation. “That’s right,” I say to the advisers. I hold each of their gazes in turn. Sister Haring is not smiling now. And then I meet the Admiral’s eyes. “I’m going on the ship as Captain.”
I have to give the Admiral credit. He doesn’t even blink. All I see is a slight tightening of his lips that shows I’ve surprised him.
And that he’s angry.
CHAPTER 2
THE ADMIRAL DISMISSES THE QUORUM and tells me to stay behind. The two of us are still seated at the head of the scarred wood table. Without the others, it feels very close. I keep my gaze on his face, on those ice-blue eyes, the freckles and age spots mingling on his skin. He’s a force of nature, a magnetic presence wherever he is.
Ever since the Desertion generations ago, when the world drew back from us and we had to learn how to survive on our own, we’ve been led by Admirals. Some have been better than others. The older people say that the last Admiral almost ran the Outpost into the ground, and that this one has saved us all. “Not afraid to put in an honest day’s work, even now,” they say when they see him splitting wood out at the lumberyard or hauling goods down Main Street in his wagon. “Gets his hands dirty.”
“So you think I’ll make you Captain.” The Admiral leans back in his chair and crosses his arms behind his head, one of his casual gestures that says I’m nothing to be afraid of and, at the same time, You have everything to fear.
“If you want me to go, you will,” I say.
“You work for me.” He brings his arms down and rests them on the table, drawing him closer. “You do what I ask. That’s why you’re alive.”
I know all of this. There’s nothing to say. I stare at the Admiral’s hands. They are indeed dirty. Grease under his fingernails, in the lines of his knuckles.
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d consider yourself a leader,” he says. “You’ve always preferred to work alone.”
“I still do,” I say. “But if I have to be on that ship, no one else is going to be in charge.”
I want as much control as possible if I have to go back out on the river. And the captain is the one person on board the dredge who gets a private berth. I don’t want to have to bunk with anyone. Having my own space is a luxury I’ve become accustomed to over the past two years. Before then, I lived as most unmarried workers do, in the common quarters near our places of employment. My apartment is still near the scrap yard, but I’ve got my own bedroom, my own kitchen. Once I’m done with work for the day, I don’t have to see or speak with another soul.
“Some of the crew might resent you,” the Admiral says. “You’re young. And you’ve been on a single voyage. A partial voyage, some might even say. Your excursion didn’t complete a full pass of the river. And you came back without any gold.”