Sea of Lost Souls Page 14

  They all laughed harder, making me feel ever smaller.

  Captain Hollander glared at them, then said, “You can go now, Goldstein.”

  I turned, but another officer said, “Wait, Petty Officer. What’s that around your neck?” She grabbed my shoulder and spun me around, then dragged me toward her by the pendant. Her name plate gleamed, and I saw the word Gagnon neatly printed on it.

  “Hey!” I protested. “It was a gift!”

  “Sir, this is a magic cradle,” she said to Captain Hollander, as if she hadn’t heard me. “This is—ow!” She let go of the pendant and shook her hand. “What? How did it do that?”

  The “magic cradle” wasn’t flashing, however, so I tucked it beneath my collar. “It was a gift,” I repeated, my voice soft with anger. “And I don’t appreciate being manhandled, ma’am. I don’t care who you are, Commander.”

  The pendant had hurt her. Though I understood little of magic, I knew one thing from my adventures here: the magic of the enemy could hurt you. The necklace was mine, and it had hurt her.

  That was simple enough.

  Commander Gagnon blinked, then straightened. “My apologies, Petty Officer. I got away from myself.”

  She and I shared a hard stare, and behind her eyes I could see ugly emotions swimming there. I stepped back, nodded politely at Captain Hollander, then turned and ran into the hangar bay.

  When I was inside the ship, I sprinted down the empty passageways, sliding down the rails on the stairs as usual, my frenzied thoughts crashing around my skull. I’d just smart-mouthed a god. I’d kissed a merman named Jordan—again! I’d received a gift of untold power. Commander Gagnon was my enemy, in the martial sense. I’d never even met the woman before now.

  What a day.

  I pushed open the door to my berthing and was immediately assailed by Torres. She jumped to her feet. “Where the blazes have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”

  “Relax, mom,” I said, taking a huge breath. “I got, um, distracted on my way back to berthing.” I pulled out my new pendant. It filled the small berthing space with whiteish light.

  Rielle pulled back the curtain on her rack. “Your face is red as a tomato, girl. Were you making out with someone? Was he cute?”

  I looked at Torres, who shrugged with exaggeration. “You know, we just got to talking, and…”

  Frost of Night and Mother’s Sigh were playing dominoes at the small table in the corner. Mother’s Sigh stood partially. “Goldstein, where did you get a magic cradle?”

  Frost of Night’s head whipped around. “Holy—”

  “Shhh,” I said, holding a finger to my lips. “Ladies, this has already drawn the attention of Commander Gagnon, so I want it kept secret.” I kneeled next to the fairies while Rielle slid out of her rack. Torres pulled up a chair and leaned in. I turned to the fairies. “What’s a magic cradle?”

  Mother’s Sigh stroked the pendant with a shaking finger. “It’s like a bucket you pour magic into. It can hold an unimaginable amount of power. I’ve heard of cradles that could bend reality and rewrite the story of life.”

  Frost of Night nodded emphatically. “You know those stories humans tell about genies? Genies are just fairies who have cradles. They’re really hard to make, and incredibly rare.” She looked at me, awed respect evident on her face. “Where did you get one?”

  “When Scylla attacked the ship a few days ago, I fell into the water,” I said in hushed tones. “And there, I saved a merman from captivity. Well, anyway, he was a prince of the ocean, and we were stopped by his father, the sea king, just now. Prince Jordan gave me this as a gift. He kissed me, too.” I put my fingertips to my lips. “So yes, I guess you could say I was making out with someone.”

  Rielle snorted. “‘Well, anyway, he was a prince…’” she mimicked. “If I’d kissed a guy who turned out to be royalty, I’d be crowing about it.”

  The captain’s whistle sounded. “All hands, return to your stations.” The whistle sounded again.

  Rielle waved dismissively. “Whatever, I’m staying in bed. So, now, Rachel… tell us about this Prince Jordan. Details, please.”

  I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, overcome with the urge to giggle. I quickly shucked my sopping clothes and pulled on my clean, dry coveralls, then sat on an empty chair. “He’s… well… I mean, he’s a merman, right? So he—”

  A knock on the door cut me short, and I stuffed the magic cradle down my collar again. “Come in,” we all said in unison.

  Bickley stepped into the room, a formal Navy folder with an embossed seal in his hands. “Goldstein, Torres, I gotta show you something in the engine room. Now.”

  There was no arguing with that tone. She and I hurried out of the berthing and into the passageway. “What’s up?” Torres said.

  Bickley looked both ways down the passageway, then pulled us in. “Nothing,” he said in a low voice. “I was told by the captain to send Goldstein up to his conference room, but to let nobody know she was going there. Here, take this.” He handed me the folder. “It’s empty, but it’ll make you look like you’re delivering something. Torres, let’s get to the engine room to make the cover story stick.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “I won’t ask what’s going on, but tread lightly. Hollander is agitated about something.”

  I nodded once, then hurried down the passageway. What was waiting for me?

  13

  I hurried down the passageway that led to Captain Hollander’s conference room, my sweaty palms making marks on the paper folder. Why the subterfuge? I wasn’t a SEAL, I was a nuke-slash-magic-wielder, and this was way above my pay grade. Still, there was something very James Bond-ish about it all. I stood up a little straighter.

  When I arrived at the conference room, I saw that the placard had changed. It now read:

  Captain Arthur Hollander, USN

  Commanding Officer

  The door next to the conference room bore a similar placard, except this one said:

  Commander Holly Gagnon, USN

  Executive Officer

  A chill ran down my neck. So Commander Gagnon was the second-highest officer on the ship. That did not bode well for me. Officers that high had the power to make my life very difficult.

  I knocked on Captain Hollander’s door. It opened, and I saw the familiar mahogany table, nautical map, ship’s wheel, and chairs—in one of which Commander Gagnon was sitting.

  Captain Hollander ushered me inside. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Petty Officer. Please take a seat. We’ll get right down to business.” I sat down, and Captain Hollander pulled up a chair next to me. “I’d like to talk to you about that necklace of yours.”

  “I assume you mean the magic cradle and not the Star of David.”

  “Right. I’ll be blunt: what will it take for you to part with it?”

  Part with it? He was asking me if I wanted to sell it? This was unusual, to say the least. What was so special about the magic cradle? It held a lot of magic, sure, but I had a whole cage of magic spheres in the engine room. Though magic was a limited resource in the Oceanus, we did not lack for it.

  “Why do you want it so badly?” I hedged, pulling it out of my collar. Commander Gagnon tapped her pen on a pad of paper as I talked, staring fixedly at the pendant.

  “Because we think we can weaponize it,” Captain Hollander said. “The bands of pirates have grown in number and strength, and we need all the firepower we can get, if we ever find them.” As soon as he said the final words, a sheepish expression overtook him.

  “You don’t know where they are, sir?”

  “It’s… well, it’s…” He faltered. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “We should talk about it,” Commander Gagnon said, her tone dark. “Your captain doesn’t know how to read nautical charts, so it’s slow going.” She spat the words “your captain.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Our captain.” A weird sense of protectiveness surged to life in me. Nobody was allowed to disrespect him in fro
nt of me. That was one of my new rules.

  “What?”

  I rested my arm on the table and drummed my fingers. “Our captain, ma’am. He’s your captain, too.” I turned back to Captain Hollander. “The navigation team is gone, right? That’s why you want the cradle—it’s a warhead while we’re sailing blind.”

  “Yes,” he said with a sigh. “Anybody of real use to me was taken, and the only thing we know for sure is that we’re not near any weak points. Not for a thousand miles. I have no idea how the pirates are sailing the way they are. We should’ve overtaken them by now.” He looked at me with such emotion that I was taken aback. “So, what will it take for you to give me the necklace? Do you want a commission? I can do that.”

  I sat back in my chair, at a loss for words.

  My little present from a cute boy had turned into quite the asset. On one hand, I wanted it simply because it was one of the few things I could call mine. It was a memento of my first kiss, a reminder of the moment when I’d been ready to die to save someone else’s life—proving that I wasn’t selfish—and, honestly, it was just really pretty. I was as normal as any other young woman in my desire to own pretty things.

  On the other hand, Captain Hollander needed all the help he could get. We had no idea what was waiting for us in the wild sea, and while I didn’t know for sure how the necklace could be weaponized, it held untold power and might. On top of it, he was offering me the officership. With a simple trade, I could be Ensign Goldstein, in charge of the engine room. A bigger berthing. Better food. People would salute me.

  So what to do?

  My eyes flickered up, and again Commander Gagnon was staring, unblinking, at my necklace. I’d seen dogs stare at cooked chicken with less desire.

  I tucked the magic cradle back into my shirt. “I’m sorry, sir,” I said quietly. “This is a precious gift from a friend. It’s beyond price.”

  “You are unbelievable,” Commander Gagnon hissed. “Sir, artifacts like that have no business being in the hands of junior sailors. In fact—”

  “I’m E-6, ma’am.”

  She sputtered. “So?”

  “So I’m not a junior sailor. I’m a first class petty officer.”

  She took me in, sizing me up, and I realized my error immediately: I never should’ve corrected her. If she thought I was just some little junior sailor, then more power to me in her mistake. I’d defeated my opponents on the lacrosse field many a time because they felt that five-foot-two Rachel Goldstein couldn’t possibly be a threat to them.

  “Enough,” Captain Hollander said. “She said no, Commander. I can’t take it from her, especially considering who gave it to her.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said. “Am I excused?”

  “Yes, have a good night.” He sighed. “How is everyone down in the engine room?”

  I smiled. “The nerds are still alive, sir. In a matter of speaking, of course.”

  He gave me a half-smile, and then gestured at the door. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  I left as quickly as I’d come in, then sprinted down the passageway—but not in the direction from where I’d come. No matter what, I wasn’t going to return to my berthing. That’s where she’d be looking for me. No berthing, no kosher counter in the galley, no engine room unless it was my shift. In fact, I needed to stay away from the engine room the most. It’s the one place someone could count on me being alone.

  I needed to stay away from Commander Gagnon. More than fairy pirates, more than Scylla, more than every cutthroat in Port des Morts, that woman was bad news. I had no idea why she wanted the cradle so badly, but I wasn’t in a great position to fight with her.

  There was much to unpack in the short meeting I’d just had. Commander Gagnon obviously had no respect for Captain Hollander. Her disrespect had stretched as far as to reveal a weakness of his in front of a subordinate. She’d wanted me to know. And if she wanted me to know, she wanted the whole crew to know.

  But she wasn’t so crafty. I would tell no one.

  A whistle sounded. I slipped into a vent space, a small section of the ship where we could check on the ventilation systems for maintenance. On the Taft, people usually used them for making out without being interrupted. I pulled out the cradle again, and held it up in front of my face.

  What had Prince Jordan inflicted on me?

  After a few minutes of reflection, and several prayers for safety, the whistle sounded again, signaling a shift change.

  I slipped back out of the vent space and hurried up to the hangar bay. Seaman Dartsch was the leader of the new, expanded lookout team, and he was handing out binoculars to the night crew. I got in line.

  “Petty Officer, you’re not on the lookout team,” he said when I got to the front of line. “Engineers are needed below deck.”

  “For Hanson,” I reminded him. “And come on, an extra pair of eyes is a boon to you. You know that. It’s not my shift.”

  He shrugged and handed me the binoculars and a phone set. “Fine. Stern, port side. You’re looking for pirates more than people, but look for chem lights, too.”

  I grinned and began the short journey to my lookout spot. Seaman Dartsch had been correct; engineers were typically expected to be below deck, not up here. Commander Gagnon would have a heck of a time finding me if she wanted to.

  When I was at the stern, I fixed the headphones from the set on my head, adjusted the mouthpiece, then straightened the little breast plate. I planted my foot on the rail and lifted the binoculars to my face, scanning the dark horizon. Storm clouds were gathering there, looming tall and foreboding. Yet, they were far enough away that the muggy night air was undisturbed for me, and all I could hear was the crashing of waves as the ship coursed through the water.

  Though I was possibly being preyed on by Commander Gagnon, my thoughts began to wander all the same as I continually scanned the water. Chem lights had appeared in the hangar bay when the ship had upgraded, and everyone who worked on the flight deck had been given one. I didn’t have one, since I mostly worked in the bottom of the ship. It had been that way on the Taft, too.

  While I kept lookout, planes were flying on and off the flight deck, their exercises identical to those I’d watched on the night I’d died. My position allowed me to see the white-hot fire at the back of each one, the result of magic instead of jet fuel. Though I didn’t understand this new fuel that I could manipulate, I respected what it could do.

  After looking near the ship for chem lights for the tenth time, I returned to scanning the horizon.

  Wait… what’s that? I squinted against the darkness, not sure what I was looking at. I wiped the lenses on my sleeve, then looked again. Just as I’d seen before, the lightning in the storm clouds lit up the sky, but there was a patch of clouds untouched by the light. It was as if Hashem had used a huge hole punch and removed a portion of the sky where it touched the horizon.

  A weak spot.

  I slowly lowered the binoculars. Captain Hollander had said we weren’t in a thousand miles of a weak spot, so what was I looking at? Where had he gotten his information? It was obviously not correct.

  I peered through the binoculars again. The lightning lit up the sky again—and threw the silhouettes of three large ships in the distance into sharp relief. From what I could tell, they were coming toward us.

  Couldn’t have a still night on the high seas of the Oceanus, could we?

  Still, no need to panic. Surely this world had merchant ships. If not, maybe it was another ghost navy’s fleet. I pulled up the mouthpiece and pressed the call button. “Bridge, port stern watch. Three contacts sighted, two hundred degrees, range ten klicks.”

  A muffled voice in my headphones replied, “Port stern watch, bridge. Three contacts sighted, two hundred degrees, range ten klicks. Bridge, aye.”

  I couldn’t do anything further, but it was still my job to monitor the three ships. I looked through the binoculars again.

  The ships were coming closer, but in the darknes
s I couldn’t see much beyond the fact that they were ships. The bridge crew was certainly trying to hail the ships over the communication channels, and if that failed, they’d resort to using lights because it was night.

  I watched them, idly thinking about what was coming. Maybe they weren’t ghost ships. What other creatures sailed the Oceanus? Elves? Leprechauns?

  The huge spotlight near the eagle’s nest began to flash in bright patterns. So, they’d failed to connect with the ships. That was… not promising. I looked through the binoculars just as a tiny burst of orange light appeared from one of the ships, followed by a high whine.

  The missile missed the ship by mere yards, exploding in the water and throwing sea spray everywhere.

  I sprinted back to the hangar bay, pressing the call button as I ran. “Pirates! It’s pirates!”

  All around, people began running and shouting to each other.

  “We’re under attack!”

  “Three enemy ships! Port side!”

  “Get to the guns!”

  The familiar klaxon rang out, followed by, “General quarters! General quarters! All hands to battle stations!”

  A jet soared off the flight deck into the midnight blue sky. A few seconds later, a second followed. One by one the entire squadron flew into the night, breaking off into small formations and heading straight toward the ships.

  I stood to the side while sailors ran to the guns and mounted them, waiting for the blessed moment when they could unload a carrier-load of ordnance into the enemy. Brought into the 21st century, the USS Rickover was simultaneously an airport, a city, and a military base, capable of wreaking absolute destruction on anyone stupid enough to attack.

  As I watched, one of the jets launched two missiles at a ship. It was a direct hit. The jubilant cheers of my shipmates filled me with joy, and I cheered along with them. This was going to be a short battle.