The Sands Chapter 6

Chapter 6

-Where Things Are Bought And Sold-

The scrap city was unlike anything Cee had ever seen. For one thing it was busier. The place buzzed with the noise of the market. People calling out sales, new products recently rescued from the sands. And everyone seemed to be able to offer the best prices you could find in the whole city. Also, it stank. Mostly of oil and rust which Cee actually felt rather soothing. Though every once in a while she would get a whiff of something foul. Now that she thought about it there really wasn’t anywhere in this collection of shacks positioned on the edge of the sand that you could properly dispose of trash, or “other” wastes. The wide sand strewn streets hummed with a combination of pedestrians, small ships and machines similar to the loader that Ngua used to drive.
 No, not used to, he probably still drove it around, drunk out of his mind. Mel still taught the kids everyday. Took them out to play, gave them snacks. You just aren’t a part of it anymore.
 These machines rather than being loaded with the heaps of violet leaf that she was used to were loaded with assorted rusty chunks of metal and technology that look like it was fished from the sands. Which it probably was. Most alarming were the ones loaded with cages filled with terrified people. Some huddled in corners muttering to themselves, so screaming at their fate. Others no older than herself sobbed quietly to themselves. Scrap cities were settlements for scroungers. Set on the edges of the sands they weren’t suited to farming or producing anything of any use. Instead people of these cities survived primarily on what the sands provided. Shipwrecks, lost cargo, lost people.
“They’re great places to find odds and ends, weapons, interesting tech, anything really.” Skaught mused. His eyes were wide, his mouth agape, despite that he must have seen this scene a million times before. He reminded Cee of the children back home. Whenever Mel would buy sweets for them from the caravans that would stop by from time to time.“Everything that was ever made will pass through a scrap city market eventually,” Skaught said.
“Why are those loaders filled with people?” she asked, fearing that she already knew the answer. Skaught had offered to escort her through the streets of the scrap city when he had caught her staring at the expanse of sheet metal buildings from the deck of the ship. Saying something about wanting to go to the weapons market himself.
“They’re on their way to the scrap market.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and refused to look her in the eye. The conversation fell into a long silence. Cee wasn’t sure if she wanted to know any more. Skaught went back to examining the wares that lined the stalls.
“What’s the scrap market?” She felt stupid for asking. They were in the scrap city weren’t they? This was the scrap market.
“Hmmm,” Skaught drew his attention back to Cee having been distracted by some rhythmically flashing device, she was certain he could make explode given enough time. “Oh you know, the scrap market…” he trailed off looking at her intently. “Or maybe you don’t.” Skaught turned to face her, fully disregarding the device.“It’s a market, like the rest of this place. It deals in people who are lost to the sands.
“They deal in people, like selling them. They can’t do that.” she said. Then she thought of everything she had seen over the last few days.
 Selling someone sounds exactly like something these people would do. She thought.
“Why not?” Skaught asked looking genuinely puzzled at the assertion.
“Well they should be free to make their own choices, to live their lives the way they want to.”
“Do you think other people have the freedom to make their own choices?” Skaught asked, looking more serious than she had ever seen him. Cee paused, she hadn’t expected a discussion of philosophy in the weapons market.
 “It’s not the same thing.” she said.
“No? What about this schmuck?” He pointed to a terminally bearded man attending one of the market stands, who was quickly adopting a fighting expression. Something that Skaught promptly ignored. “Do you think he wants to be out here selling random shit he found in the sands?”
“I mean, probably not.” She watched as the shopkeeper's expression turned to confusion, before flicking back to anger.
“The people at the scrap market had their lives saved from starvation, or downing in the sands. In exchange the scrappers get to make a profit.
“But they don’t have any choice! At least this loser could theoretically pack up everything tomorrow and go change his life.” That seemed to be the final straw for the man, who swung at the pair of them. Only to find one of Skaught’s Frankenstein looking weapons pointed in his face. The fighting spirit left him quickly after that.
Skaught shrugged and continued walking. “So you don’t want to buy one?”
“Of course not!”
“All right just checking, cause it’s right here.”
They stepped into a large dirt square. Lining the square were stalls selling everything from snacks to collars made from scrap metal. In the centre of the square was a massive stage. A tall man, well dressed for the shit hole they were in, stood on the stage before a sizable gathering. A young boy stood next to him in chains.
“Sold!” The auctioneer bellowed, his voice artificially amplified to fill  the square. “Please see our clerk to my left here about payment. Your property will be delivered to you shortly!” The boy was led off the stage by several scary looking men. As soon as they stepped off the stage a section in the centre of the platform lowered. Only to return moments later this time with a young girl in chains similar to the boys. She couldn’t have been any older than Arie. 
 Older than Arie was.
 Right,
 Are you just  going to stand there and watch this?
“We have to do something!” She said to Skaught.
Skaught’s expression softened “Yeah, the kids bother me too.” he said watching the stage. “Let’s go.”
“We can’t just go, we have to do something!”
“You have any money?”
“Well, no…”
“Then there’s nothing to do.”
“You’re a pirate! I know you have some of those bombs on you!”
“Half the people here are pirates, well armed pirates. I’m not losing my life over some kid I don’t know.”
“So you’re just going to let her be sold!”
“Yeah, and I suggest you do the same. I’m not going to stop you, but you’re not going to make it out of here alive.” He gestured to the plethora of heavily armed men and women that surrounded the stage.
“Sold!” The auctioneer's voice pierced her. The girl was led off the stage. Cee watched her disappear into the crowd. Cee ran after Skaught who was on his way out of the square.
 Disgusting.
 I know.
 You’re disgusting.
 … I know.
 You’re just going to leave that girl?
 There’s nothing I can do.
 It wouldn’t be the first time.
 It wasn’t my fault.
 You could have done something.
“What!” Cee said.
“What, what?” Skaught stopped going through a market stand and turned towards her.
“It’s nothing, I'm just.” Cee felt tears run down her cheeks. Skaught put his hand on her shoulder. 
“Let’s go back to the ship.” Cee nodded wordlessly, letting him lead her back to the ship.
 When was the last time you thought of them?
 How could I not?
 Don’t lie.
 It’s been, things have been moving so fast.
 So fast that you couldn’t be bothered to think of your family?
 I didn’t forget them.
 What about finding who killed them? Or are they just going to get away with it?
 They won't, I won't let them.
 Just go back to Mora, forget about them. What do they matter?
 I won’t forget them.
“Cee, Cee!” Cee pulled herself from the hole she had gotten lost in to find Skaught staring at her intently.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” She looked around, trying to discern where she was. They were standing in the docks of the scrap city. Cee could feel the hot sand splashing up from below to scald her ankles. 
“If you say so, come on. The sands going to burn holes in my boots if we stand here any longer.” Cee followed Skaught up into the ship. Leaving the blistering sun and sand behind. “Maybe you should go rest for a bit.” Skaught said.
“Yeah, maybe. You know I thought you were a little nuts before, but you’re not bad.” She surprised herself with the statement. Why would she say that? It was a weird thing to say, wasn’t it?
Skaught just shrugged, “I don’t know why I can’t be both.” 

Cee’s room wasn’t very large, barely enough for a single bed. She liked it though, most importantly she didn’t have to share it, which was a rare luxury. Cee got undressed and lay on her bed, deciding that a short nap would help her clear her head. Unfortunately, her body had other ideas, refusing to relax to any reasonable degree. Instead of resting like she had intended she lay in bed, muscles tensed. Fingers tapping on the still mattress. Feet twitching rhythmically to some tune she made up as she went. Cee swung her legs off the edge of the bed. They pounded on the floor with a relentless energy. Cee reached over to the table next to her bed and grabbed the book she’d taken from the library that night a lifetime ago. She sat there staring at the cover. Her fingers rifled through the pages threatening to break it open. She clenched her eyes shut and placed the book back on the table.
 I guess I could go up on deck. She thought.
Throwing on a second hand shirt, that was much too big for her, and as a result doubled as a dress. She padded barefoot out of her room and up to the deck. She stepped into the cool night air, her feet feeling every rivet in the chilled metal. She stood on the deck staring out at the scrap city. In the dark it glowed like safety in a dark void. Or perhaps some sort of giant bioluminescent insect. Nearly every one of the ships in the docks had a deck though she personally saw little practical use for them besides a place for high strung crew to get some air. That or a place to toss overthrown captains to their deaths. 
 You should just jump, it'll be easier.
 I can’t.
 You could join your family, just like that, it would be easy.
 Just like that?
 As easy as a single step. Cee shook her head, trying to shake away the thoughts. It didn’t work. The door opened behind her. Cee spun to face the witness. It was a boy, her age, maybe a little older.  He was holding a pipe in one hand that smouldered steadily. She recognized him as one of the hostages from the cafeteria.
“Hey,” he said with half a wave, smoke issuing from his mouth as he spoke.

*******

Frytir sat in his room, the one he shared with three other people. They had all been in the same crew on the previous ship, but he had never been well acquainted with them. It appeared to Frytir that almost everyone that had been on his previous ship was also on this one. Apart from some unlucky few he assumed had been killed. None took Mora up on her generous offer to be left stranded in a scrap city.  Frytir hadn’t been able to muster enough courage to venture down to port himself. Nobody had told him he couldn’t. Still, Roui’s words rang in his ears
 “A scrap city is basically a death sentence.”  So he had spent his day on the ship, spending most of his day with Roui. He did see Ray around a couple times but they seemed busy. Being the only doctor on the ship, or at least the most qualified one. They had been given they’re own quarters and clinic. Thus was busy attending to the numerous pirates who couldn’t remember the last time they had spoken a polite hello to a physician. Let alone discuss anything of any importance. Frytir sparked his pipe, filling his lungs. He was running dangerously low on leaf and would have to get a hold of more soon. He let out a long slow breath breathing thick noxious clouds into the room. His roommates, who were all setting down for the night, their shifts having just ended, began coughing relentlessly. Recovering enough to curse, the man across from Frytir said in a raspy voice. 
“Could you smoke that shit somewhere else, for fucks sake.” Frytir was about to shoot him some clever retort he had yet to come up with. Instead deciding at the last minute, partly because he had yet to come up with a witty retort, to take the high road and leave without rising to the insult.
 Might as well head up to the deck he thought.
 To go hang out with all your friends. He added sarcastically, if a thought could be sarcastic. He made his way down the wide passages to where he knew the door to the top deck lay. He had to press most of his weight to the heavy iron door to get it moving. The door slowly swung open to the cool air of the sand sea at dusk. Frytir's eyes widened, and he took a step back as he spotted someone on the ship deck. So often on his last ship he was the only one who ever ventured up top. Standing on the far side of the expanse was a girl. He recognized this girl as one of the pirates that had abducted them. She was the crazy bitch who had walked them, at gunpoint, to the bridge. Just thinking about that night he could feel the late captains blood soaking into his shoes.
 Turn back, she’s nuts, she’ll fucking kill you for nothing.
 Maybe she has leaf, why else would she be up here?
 If you leave now she might not notice you. As the last thought crossed his mind he saw the girl turn towards him. Frytir swallowed the lump in his throat and forced the words from his throat. 
“Hey,” he squeaked. Managing to raise his hand in greeting. Frytir could feel his legs shake as she watched him. Her eyes burrowed right through him, as if he barely existed. “Sorry, I was just…” he spun on his heels ducking back through the door.
“You aren’t coming out?” she asked. Her voice sounded cold, lifeless.
“Sure yeah, I’m coming out, or I was. It’s just, I was coming out here for a smoke. Wouldn’t want to have to make you smell that.” He stammered, taking another step towards the door.
“I don’t mind,” she said. Freezing him in his tracks. Frytir slowly turned back towards the girl.
“Of course you don’t.” He took a nervous step towards her. Desperately trying, and failing to come up with a reason not to. Frytir took a place next to the insane pirate girl staring into the glow of the scrap city, occasionally puffing from his pipe. Embracing the waves of peacefulness that flowed over him with each drag.
“So… what’s your name?” Frytir asked, trying to break through the oppressive silence.
“Cee,” the girl said briefly  lapsing back into stillness.
“I see, I’m Frytir.” He held out his hand in greeting. He could have sworn he saw her flinch.
“Umm, yeah, nice to meet you.” She reciprocated his handshake. “Sorry I’m just kind of, in my head. It’s been a stressful day.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Frytir said wondering what this pirate could possibly find stressful. “Do you, do you want to talk about it?” 
“Not really,” Cee mumbled.
“Ok,” Frytir inwardly sighed in relief. He’d offered to talk more out of politeness than an actual desire to. His mind flashed back to the girl suddenly yelling and firing her weapon at him and the other hostages. Whatever has a psycho like that stressed out probably isn’t something I want to hear about.
“It’s just that?” Cee began.
 Oh no.
“I don’t know, I just saw some things today is all.”
 Please stop talking.
“But you don’t want to hear about this.” She said,
 You’re right.
“It’s no problem, what did you see?” Frytir gulped.
“Really?”
 No, not really.
“Really,” a shiver ran up his spine.
“We’ll, it’s just. You see, we went to the market today and…”
 She gets to freely wander about whenever she wants.
“Well there was this one market, the scrap market, Skaught called it.”
 And you’re stuck here like some kind of prisoner.
“Well there were people being sold there, kids.”
 What does she care?
“And that bothered you?” Frytir practically rolled his eyes. Why would a pirate care about what happens in a pirate city.
“Of course it did!” Cee spun, getting her face uncomfortably close to his. She smelled faintly of sweat and sand. Grimacing to himself he had to admit, it wasn’t unpleasant.  “How could it not! And there was nothing I could do!” Her cheeks glistened as her eyes glared definitely into his, she was crying. “Sorry,” she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. It's just, one of them reminded me of my sister.”
“Was she sold as well?” Frytir hated himself for starting to sympathise with the pirate girl.
“No,”  Cee gasped for breath, trying to compose herself Frytir guessed. “She died. No!” her voice swelled with sudden rage. “She was murdered!”
“That’s horrible,” Frytir felt somewhat at a loss at this sudden roller coaster of emotions he was witnessing 
“It was those corporate bastards, it had to be!”
“I don’t think the corporations would kill anyone.” Frytir said.
“How do you know! You don’t know what they get up to without anyone knowing! They put on this veneer of being a paradise but they kill you for nothing!”
“Ok, you’re right.” Frytir took a step back, raising his hands to the verbal assault. She was, kind of. He didn’t know what the corporations did when nobody was watching. It certainly wasn’t a paradise, still to murder some random little girl on the surface seemed excessive.
“You don’t believe me.”
“It’s not that, it’s just.”
“It’s ok, I wouldn’t have believed me that long ago either.” Cee leaned on the railing, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon.
“Look, I know the floating cities aren’t paradise, but I can’t see the corporations killing people.”
“You’ve been there, to the floating cities?
“Just the undercity, where the shipments come in.” he lied. 
“Oh, that makes sense.” The girl slumped. She seemed a little disappointed. 
“Can I ask you something? How did you end up here, on this ship?” Frytir asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. “If you have such a problem with things like selling people, why are you here?”
“We aren’t monsters,and I’m not the only person on this ship that has a problem with selling people as scrap.” Cee said.
“But, I mean, you are pirates.” said Frytir.
“We’re just doing what we have to, to get by.”
“Yeah, sure, but you could have picked another profession.”
“If you have such a problem with it, why did you choose to join?”
“You didn’t give us much of a choice.” Frytir felt his temper flair. He remedied it by taking a long drag from his pipe.”
“Mora gave you the option, I was there. Stay on the ship or be let off safely in the scrap city. Sounds like a choice to me.”
“Sure, it’s a choice but not much of one.” He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, offering the pipe to Cee who shook her head. He let the calm wash over him before continuing. “You’ve been in the scrap city, how long would a bunch of unarmed, unconnected sailors last?”
“That’s…” she began before trailing off. Her gaze shifted to the city below.
“Exactly,” he felt a little proud at having left her speechless. “Staying on this  PIRATE ship was the only real option.” He spat the word pirate like it was poison.
“I didn’t really think of it like that.” She mumbled. “I’m sorry.”
Her apology shook him, there was no way she actually cared how he felt, what did she want from him?
“Whatever,” he said curtly. “But it’s not your problem.”
“So what, does that mean I shouldn’t care?”
 Yes, that's exactly what it means. Don’t care about other people's problems, especially you.
“I should go” Frytir spun and sped below deck before she could say something else that made him see her as an actual person.
“Alright” the girl's voice drifted weakly from behind him, she sounded a little sad. “It was nice talking to you.”
 Yeah right Frytir tried to get as much distance from her as he could, as quickly as he could. “Bye” he said.
“I’ll see you again.” Frytir barely heard her say as he shut the heavy door with a thud. His steps thudded rapidly on the floor of the ship as he sought to create distance between himself and the strange pirate girl.
 What does she know? His thoughts rattled around his head like dice in a cup, clattering on the walls of his skull. She has no right to give a shit about me she’s a PIRATE and a fucking crazy one at that.
 Still it was nice of her to care. The single positive thought was quickly silenced by the onslaught occurring in his head.  
She must be trying to get something out of you. There’s no way she could actually give a shit!
 I need to see Roui, he thought. Roui would help him get his head straight. Roui would listen to him. Roui would make it all alright. Frytir made his way through the labyrinth of corridors. Passing crew members finishing up they’re shifts, or preparing to start the next. He reached the door belonging to Roui’s cabin. Like his, it was a group cabin. Carefully as to not wake anyone he eased the door open. The interior of the cabin was pitch black. With only the light of the hall to cast the interior as vague silhouettes of occupied beds. Frytir silently made his way to the cot he knew to be Roui’s.
“Roui, Roui,” Frytir gently shook the man’s shoulder.
“Hmmm,” Roui rolled over ignoring the prodding. Consciously or unconsciously Frytir wasn’t sure.
“Roui,” he said, repeating the process.
“What?” Roui mumbled, barely awake.
“Roui, I’m sorry. I know it’s late. I just really need someone to talk to.”
“Frytir what the hell?”
“I just, I needed to talk to you.”
“It’s fucking early, go to bed.” Roui looked at the clock next to his cot.
“I know, I’m sorry. I just didn't know who else to go to.”
“Are you high?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Of course you are. You’re always high.” Roui rolled over again, turning away from Frytir.
“I just needed…”
“To to bed Frytir.”
“But…”
“Frytir, we both have to start our shifts soon, go to bed.” Roui pulled the sleeping bag over his head,Shutting Frytir out. Frytir stood and left the room, wandering aimlessly through the halls.  
He’s right, what the hell were you thinking waking him up this early just to talk about your feelings.
 I just needed someone to talk to.
 It’s selfish.
 Selfish to need some connection?
Forget about it and smoke your pipe. Panic rose in Frytir’s chest as his hand searched through his pockets. Retrieving only a few measly scraps of leaf.
 Fuck.
 Now you're screwed.
 I don’t need it.
 Yeah sure, you better find a way to get a hold of some more, fast!
 I’ll be fine. Frytir wandered his way back to his room. His knuckles white, fingers wrapped around his forearm.  
Of course you will.
He loosened his grip on his arm. Lying in bed not bothering to remove his clothes. Frytir lay on his back, staring into the abyss above, his mind a tumultuous storm of thoughts crashing against the shores of his consciousness.