The Navigator, page 1
The Navigator
By Benjamin Goshko (SentientSurfer)
Copyright 2011 Benjamin Goshko
--Kindle Edition--
Artwork: James Junior
Editor: Terri Bernstein
Special Thanks to Beta Readers:
Morgan and Jessica
--Dedicated to My Father--
The Northern Ocean
- 1 -
Quill took a deep drag on the cigarette. Naris had mixed a pinch of soma in with the tobacco. The narcotic gave Quill's face a flushed tone, making her involuntarily smile. Her lungs tingled from the smoke and she slowly let it seep out from between her lips, before exhaling it all at once in a swirling, blue cloud.
"Where did you get this?" Quill coughed. She quivered from a draft in the cramped cabin.
"The Isle of Mann. You don't like it?" Naris cocked his brow in subtle irritation and snatched the laced cigarette from her. "They have the best soma, grow it for the island's shamans. Very lush there. Thick, black soil. Hesperia's too rocky; all you get are stunted weeds."
Quill blinked. Her eyes felt glazed and puffy from the high. She wiped off a thin film of tears.
"Stunted weeds? Have you ever even been inland?"
Naris shrugged. "No, not really."
"Well I grew up in a forest. There were tall trees as far as you could see."
"An ocean of green." Naris sucked in a deep toke.
"More - more alive than the ocean." Quill wiped her reddening nose. "More full."
"The ocean looks empty but I find that soothing. Nothing's hidden. You can see everything - the sea, the sky - all the way to the horizon. Just your thoughts and the waves."
Naris shifted on the bed as the ship listed to port. A squall continued to roar outside.
"They're both beautiful but sometimes the ocean seems . . . soulless." Quill paused in thought and then grabbed the cigarette back from Naris before he'd finished his puff. The scratchy blanket chafed her breasts. She put her free arm across her chest and tucked her legs in to avoid the cold.
"Then why come out here? Why not stay on land?"
"The water's calmed me, ever since I was a child."
Naris rose from the bed. He peeled off a sheepskin condom. It felt like a warm jellyfish in his palm. He noticed a leaking tear in the tip. It must have torn during sex. He tossed it into the wastebasket before Quill noticed.
"I don't know. . . educated, beautiful girl like you. . .pirate like me." Naris leaned forward and kissed Quill on the lips. They tasted like sea spray and tobacco. "Doesn't seem to fit. You should have found something much better."
"You think I'm beautiful?" Quill let the blanket drop, exposing her naked body.
"A little nereid."
Quill threw her legs over the side of the bed and carefully stood up as the ship continued to rock back and forth. She examined herself by the lamplight.
Quill had honey brown eyes, shoulder length black hair, and deeply tan skin. She was thin but not skinny.
"I'm too uneven. See these little bulges everywhere? My stomach, my arms. Need more symmetry. . ."
Naris smiled and pulled on a pair of heavy, woolen underwear. His erection ached for more contact.
The wind howled outside.
"You think it's funny?" Quill crinkled her nose. "I'm sensitive about that."
"Sensitive about what?"
Naris licked his yellowed teeth. His eyes and hair were darker than Quill's and his face was covered in scruffy stubble. His features were so sharp and chiseled; they looked like they'd been carved into his skull.
"My body."
Quill grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around herself. She picked up the laced cigarette from an ashtray, took another puff, and pulled her underwear on.
"I can't see why. I told you, you look beautiful."
Quill held in the drag. "I don't feel beautiful." She choked on the heavy smoke and coughed it back up.
"Maybe it's not for you to see."
A china plate at the head of Naris's bed rattled as the ship listed once more. Quill looked up at the plate. Naris had looted it, along with the mirror, from a Hesperian merchant ship. Naris's cabin was full of looted treasure: fine china, ornate glassware, antediluvian paintings, an intricate ship in a bottle. Naris had told Quill how he'd acquired each piece, the ships he'd captured, the cargo he'd plundered. Quill listened to each of his stories, enraptured. She'd slowly fallen under his spell, enthralled by his charisma and swagger.
When Quill looked around the cabin now, everything looked more vibrant and colorful through the eyes of the narcotic. The cherry stain on the wooden walls looked sugary and succulent. The ship in the bottle buzzed with a crew of twinkling Lilliputians. The oak clock above the cabin door stood still with the slow crawl of drugged time.
Quill felt safe and cared for. She lay in bed, cuddled up into a fetal position to keep warm against the cold, permeating through the shipside from the violent storm.
Naris sat down next to Quill's feet and gently began to rub them, pulling on each of her toes.
At that moment, someone knocked on the cabin door.
- 2 -
"Giles." Naris gently closed the door and squinted through the darkness of the narrow hallway. A row of oil lamps hanging down from the low ceiling flickered in sync with the wind. "What do you need?"
"The clouds are letting up, the wind isn't. Can you get the bitch to go up there to check the stars? We've been blown around for hours. She can't still know where we are."
Naris clicked his tongue. "How rude."
Giles braced himself between the doorposts as the ship listed. He was older than Naris, and more grizzled, with wiry gray hair. His wide body dripped with fresh spray.
"You know we don't like this. We don't trust her."
"What makes you think I trust her, Giles?"
Giles looked down at Naris. Naris was only wearing his long underwear. His erection poked against the wool like it was trying to punch through.
Naris followed Giles's stare. "If I only screwed girls I trusted I'd still be a virgin. And so would you, I'm guessing."
"I don't trust dry foots, especially ones from Kudu. I don't trust her. I don't trust Catalin."
Naris leaned into Giles's ear. "You don't have to."
"She's been our only eyes for weeks. She could be leading us into a Hesperian trap. And what do we really know about her?"
Naris let his breath out slowly. "You know all you need to."
"Then what are you keeping from me?"
"More than you can imagine." Naris laughed. "But worry not. Quill won't screw us over. Too young and dreamy-eyed. She hasn't yet been hardened."
Giles scowled at his captain. "Can't you see? She's a junky. She'll fuck up on her own, that's what they do. . . all these storms and your constant screwing. . . can't see how she's keeping us on course. My instincts say we're being blown the wrong direction."
Naris gave an amused nod. "Then it's a good thing you're not our navigator."
Naris reopened the door to his cabin.
Quill was half-naked on the bed. She was tucked under the covers with her eyes closed, still warm from the soma.
Naris glanced back at Giles, around the doorjamb. "A moment for the lady."
Giles walked off in a huff. His footsteps creaked on the old floorboards.
"Giles asked for you. Your skills are needed topside." Naris plopped down next to Quill.
Quill yawned and scanned the cabin floor for her bra. It was draped across the red, velvet cushion of Naris's chair. Now stained a sandy yellow, it was the last piece of clothing Quill had left from Kudu. She was glad she'd held onto it. It was the only bra she'd seen on the ocean with an underwire.
The clothing the sea people wore was homemade or hand-me-downs. The shoddy stitching frayed; the wool was invariably itchy. The sea people needed to wear layer upon layer to stave off the cold.
"Giles," Quill muttered as she fiddled with the hooks of her bra. "My favorite first mate."
Naris slid into the warm divot where Quill had been lying, and plucked the cigarette from the ashtray. He relit it and peered up at Quill, watching her get dressed.
"If we're still on course we should almost be there by now," he said. "Only a few more hours."
Quill zipped up her puffy jacket.
"The fallen star?" She made a pouty smile.
"The fallen star." Naris leaned over and blew out his bedside lamp.
The cabin was plunged into darkness.
"You're still not going to tell me what it is?" Quill squeezed between the bed and the wall, fumbling her way over to the cabin door.
"You will know it when you see it." Naris sprawled out under the covers and closed his eyes.
"Is it a trell?"
The cherry of Naris's cigarette smoldered in the darkness.
"I told you. . .it's a fallen star."
Quill climbed the stairwell. The ship continued to rock from the waves and the wind. She had to mount each step slowly, bracing herself against the walls. Her heavy navigator bag clanked at her side.
Giles glared down at her from the top of the stairs. He examined Quill as she approached, studying her eyes. They were pink with inflamed blood vessels.
"Are you together enough to do your job?"
"I'll make do," Quill sniffed. Her nose was runny. "But thanks for your concern."
Quill waited on the top step and clutched her bag as Giles pushed open the heavy port door.
Wind and spray shot in from the outside. Quill felt the cold water stab into her.
The night was crisp. The ocean looked purple as the ship bobbed up and down with the horizon. The thick storm clouds had blown away, revealing a picturesque, star-filled sky.
Quill watched the stars for a moment and nearly fell to her knees as the ship was buffeted by whitecaps. She grabbed the freezing handrail to regain her balance. The night wind chilled her sober. She stumbled forward toward the bow, clutching the railing.
Giles snickered at her awkwardness.
Once Quill reached the bow, she sat down and opened her leather bag. She laid a waterproof chart out on the wood and anchored it with her knees. She then pulled out her sextant. Its shiny brass shimmered under the light of a small lamp, mounted to the bow. She looked through the sextant's telescope and began to try and pick out all the familiar constellations in the sky – the Dancing Serpent, the Patient Archer, the Great Whale.
Quill mentally ticked off their positions. She then mapped them out in pencil on her chart and found the angle to each star. She fiddled with her slide rule, trying to fix her location on the vast, featureless sea.
- 3 -
Junk watched the stars twinkle overhead. The sky was bright from the moonlight, the stars, and the glowing arc of the Milky Way. A gust of cool wind rippled the wave tops and blew into the open boat. Junk shivered in her light clothes, tatters that hung off her bony shoulders.
"I'm cold," Junk whined. Her eyes looked sunken in.
Petal took a break from rowing to take off her overcoat. The hand-sewn brown jacket was stuffed with seagull feathers. Their sharp quills poked through the lining and pricked her skin. She passed the jacket to Junk and continued to row the tiny boat across the ocean.
Junk had given up rowing hours ago. It was late and she would normally have fallen asleep, but it was too cold. Her tiny body wasn't much help in moving the boat forward, anyway. Petal only made her row to stave off her incessant questions.
"We should be there soon." Petal tried to smile. It was freezing without her jacket but she was comforted by the sight of Junk snuggling into it.
Junk's thin brown hair fluttered in the breeze. Her face was rosy from the cold. She sneezed and tapped her feet on the flat boat bottom.
"I'm hungry," Junk mumbled. She lay back so she was staring straight up at the sky. She looked skinny as a twig and sickly pale.
"That's why we're going to Piquairn." Petal continued to row. Her arms burned from exhaustion.
"What will be there to eat?"
"Do you like eggs?" Petal smiled. She already knew what Junk's answer would be.
"Uh-huh, uh-huh." Junk continued to look up at the stars while eagerly nodding.
"The albatrosses nest on Piquairn. The island will be covered in eggs. We'll just have to gather them."
"We're going to steal their babies?" Junk watched a long, white object streak across the night sky.
"They haven't hatched yet." Petal stopped rowing and rolled her sore shoulders. She could see the island up ahead, a motionless slick of black atop the churning sea. "But the babies are delicious. Really tender. . ."
Junk smiled in disgust. "Eew. I don't want to eat babies. I'm a baby. . ."
"More for me."
Petal looked over the side of the boat to try and guess the depth of the water. The water was an inky black, through which she could see nothing.
Junk was still staring up at the sky. "Is that a trell?"
Petal looked up from the ocean and watched the glowing object drift through the heavens.
"I don't think so. I think trells are bigger. That's a shooting star."
"What's a shooting star?" Junk squinted at her sister.
Petal was slightly less thin than Junk, but even more pale. She was five years older than her. She had dark red hair that was matted to her head, and shimmering, sky-blue eyes. Her skin was dirty and covered in bruises. Directly below her right eye was a tattoo of tiny, black, geometric shapes.
"Uhh. . ." Petal furrowed her forehead. "I dunno. . .but shooting stars fall into the ocean. Trells float in the sky."
"So what are trells?"
"They're ghost ships. People used them to sail across the sky before the Flood. Now only sea people see them."
Petal gazed at the high up object, wondering if it really was a trell.
"What are they made of? How can they float in the sky?"
"I don't think anyone's seen one up close. No one knows."
"Then how do they know they're ships? Maybe they're birds."
Junk smiled to herself, picturing the white streak as an enormous seagull, swooping through the stars.
"That's stupid," Petal sniffed.
"Why?"
Petal slipped over the side of the boat. The water went up to her neck. It was so cold, it made her muscles twitch. Her teeth chattered.
"Row while I pull us in."
Junk picked up the heavy oars and dipped them into the water. Petal tiptoed across the sandy seafloor, dragging the rowboat in her wake. The tide was coming in, pushing the boat toward the shoreline.
Slowly, the water began to recede down to Petal's waist.
Once Petal was sure Junk could stand, she waved for her to jump into the water. Junk left the jacket in the boat and the two girls pulled the heavy craft ashore.
The flat-bottomed boat made the sand crunch as they inched it up the beach. Their combined strength wasn't enough to drag it across open ground, so Petal waited for a high wave to bring it in fully. The boat came to a rest near a clump of volcanic rocks. Petal lashed it to one of the stones, figuring it would be safe, as the tide was at its high mark.
Junk dug her toes into the sand and began to lay Petal's jacket across the beach to have something soft to lie on.
"Don't do that." Petal scooped up her jacket and beat the sand off the fabric.
"Where can I sleep? I'm really tired. The sand, it's so itchy." Junk wobbled a little from sea legs.
"Here."
Petal pulled off her shirt and laid it across the sand. It was wet and the sand clung to its surface. Seeing that Junk wasn't satisfied, she darted over to one of the sand dunes and grabbed several fistfuls of beach grass. She put it overtop of the shirt and Junk settled down in it, enmeshed in the bedding.
"Where are you going to sleep?" Junk peeped from between grass blades.
Petal pulled on her coat and zipped it up. She was freezing.
"On the beach, somewhere."
"Can you sleep next to me?" Junk cooed.
Petal plopped down next to her little sister. Junk closed her eyes and began to drift off.
