The Sands Chapter 8

Chapter 8

-Where Things Are Found And Lost-

Shadows blanketed the sands as a city passed overhead. The small fishing boat levitated just above the sand sea. Rocking and listing with the waves. This didn’t bother Morelle at all, if anything having her feet on solid ground is what made her uncomfortable. The landscape was a never ending expanse of sand. Occasionally broken by a large ship on its way to a far away port. Less frequently broken by a floating city, as it was now. 
“They leave me speechless every time I see them,” said the man at the helm of the small sand ship. He stared up at the city mouth hanging open.
“They aren’t that great,” said Morelle under her breath. Her father always turned into a drooling moron when the cities were involved. Light returned to the world when the sun cleared the other end of the city. “Can we please get back to work now?” Morelle asked. 
Her father snapped from his reverie. “Yes of course, back to work.” He sighed wistfully. Morelle moved to the back of the ship to work the tredger while her father piloted the ship. Morelle had been fishing with her father for as long as she could remember. Living on their little boat. Combing through the sands, looking for anything they could sell. They worked in silence until it was well past dark. “You should go to bed.” Her father said, staring blankly into the sands. He always seemed to lose himself when they saw a city. “We’ll be at the scrap city in the north eastern sands by tomorrow afternoon, you can eat something then.” They had been out of food since yesterday morning. She was starting to feel the pangs of hunger.
 “What about you?” she asked.
“I’m going to go for a little while longer. I’ll pull up the tredger before I turn in.” Then added almost to himself. “If we don’t find something worth selling by the time we get in tomorrow. It’s going to be a merger resupply.” Morelle didn’t argue, her limbs dragged with exhaustion as she descended the flimsy steps below deck. She flipped a switch as she reached the bottom of the stairs. A generator roared to life along with a few dim bulbs, illuminating her home. Morelle had to duck so as to not hit her head on the ceiling. She was tall for a girl, no, she was just tall compared to people. The space was crowded with the necessities of life. The main room contained a single burner and their sole pot, next to it an empty icebox. Her fathers cot set up along one wall along with a chair piled high with thick blankets, none of which hadn’t been washed since they had last been to port. She grabbed one that looked fairly clean. Giving it a few good shakes to try to clear out the sand she opened the door to her room. Aside from the washroom it was the only private space on the ship. Her dad had given it to her when she had reached puberty. “A young woman needs her own space,” he’d said. Morelle laid out the blanket on her bed but didn’t collapse on it just yet, as much as she longed to. Instead she reached under her bed and pulled out a small wooden box they had fished up years before. She opened it with great care, like you would handle a priceless treasure, this was her treasure. The interior of the box glittered with a rainbow of colours as the light reflected off the multicoloured ensemble inside.It was filled with shards of glass they had pulled up from the sands. She took out one of the pieces of glass, worn smooth by years of tumbling inside the sands. This one was a deep maroon colour, one of her favourites. She held it up to the light painting the room in a soft red. Her eyes hung heavy as she returned the glass to its place in the box and slid it back under her bed. Killing the generator she slid fully clothed under the heavy blanket and promptly fell asleep.

The sun was breaking over the dunes as Morelle woke. She rolled from her bed and summited the ladder to the deck. Her father stood at the helm.
“Did you sleep?” She asked, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Her father looked to the rising sun with a surprised look. 
“Oh, no, I guess I haven’t.” he said. Morelle took the controls from her father. 
“I can take it from here go get some rest.”
“I have to get us to the scrap city,” he protested.
“I can get there, I know the way. I could pilot this boat in my sleep at this point. I’m nineteen, I’ve been doing this for almost a decade now.”
“Are you really?” A look of shock occupied her fathers face. “Guess you’re going to have to be leaving me soon, living your own life.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll always be here to help.”
Her father just smiled sadly. “Let me at least pull up the tredger before I sleep.” He moved to the back of the ship.
“Alright, but then you have to go below.” Morelle said as her father began the laborious task of winching in the tredger. When they finally managed to pull in the fine steel net that they relied on for their livelihood.  What lay before them was mostly garbage. Old bits of trash that someone might pick up for a few cents. There was something that could have at one time been a part of a combustion engine. That would pay for a week of provisions. Morelle watched as her father visibly relaxed. One more week of food.
Finally there was something too caked in dirt to make out. It was a reasonable size which seemed promising. Not too large but large enough that it must be more than a small scrap of something. Morelle bent down to examine an old piece of glass. Worn smooth by the sand. This one was a bright vibrant blue colour. It would fit nicely with her collection.
“Not a whole lot for trolling the whole night.” Her dad sounded disappointed.
“This might be something,” she carefully picked up the dirt-caked item.
“Maybe,” he didn’t sound convinced.
“You go rest, I’ll clean up while we’re sailing.”
“No, I’ll work on it, you never know.” Her father began to argue.
“You promised,” she cut him off. “You said you’d rest after you pulled the tredger up.”
“But,” 
“Not buts, I can reset the tredger and clean up what we got, go rest.” 
“Alright,” he relented. “But wake me if anything happens.”
“I will dad, go rest.”
Without any more complaint he went below. Leaving Morelle alone. She reset the tredger and took control of the consol, heading in the direction she knew the scrap city lay. As she stood there making sure the waves didn’t push them off course he mind kept drifting to the dirt caked object that sat on time of the pile they had pulled up that morning. Her curiosity got the better of her, she grabbed a brush they used to clean artefacts and began carefully chipping away at the dirt.
The port was visible on the horizon by the time she had cleared enough dirt to make out what the object was. An ancient personal computer of some kind, she figured. She’d seen computer parts before but this was by far the most intact. The viewing screen was gone. As were some parts of the protective casing, but otherwise it was in good shape. Usually computer parts were only good for salvaging small amounts of precious metals.  
Maybe if they were lucky,’ she thought.  This one might have some data intact.’ She had heard the stories every fisher had. The friend of a friend of a friend that managed to pull presands data and set himself up well in an oasis somewhere. Maybe even a floating city if the storyteller felt like pushing it.

“I know someone that could try to pull whatever they can off it. Might be expensive though.” Morelle and her father stood in the market of the scrap city. Pawning what they’d found in the sands. They were talking to her fathers main contact in the market. She’d known him since she was little.“Or we can strip it and get the metals out of it. That’ll be guaranteed money.”
“Bry I’ve known you for a long time, What do you think I should do?” Her father asked. Morelle was distracted by the procession of doomed souls being marched towards the auction square. The scrap market always bothered her. A large burly man walked into her as she watched.
“Watch it girl!” said the man. “Mess with the wrong person around here and you’ll end up in our little parade.” He looked her over. “A little too muscular but I’d still buy you.” He said with a gross grin. Her father stepped between her and the man. Her fathers frame was short, Morelle cleared him by a head. But he was built for a lifetime of hard labour.
“Watch yourself scum.” her father said, the venom dripping from his voice.
The scrap dealer looked for a second like he was going to throw a punch but decided against it. “You’re lucky I’m busy,” the man mumbled, moving to catch up to his group.
“Come on Mor,” her father wrapped his arm around her protectively and turned back towards Bry.
“Gotta keep an eye on those fuckers.” Bry said.
“Did we decide what we’re going to do?” asked Morelle.
“I think I should scrap it.” Said her father. “Doesn’t cost anything and it’s a guaranteed pay check.” He paused for a second before looking at her. “What do you think? The catch is as much yours as it is mine. Morelle thought about it for a second. She hadn’t expected anyone to ask her opinion.
 “I think you should try to get something off it.” She said after a while. “I have a bit saved up and my glass collection will sell for a bit. This could be our chance to get ahead. We could buy some new equipment for the ship.” The two men looked at her, she was afraid they would shoot her down.
“Alright then,” her father said at last. “The co-captain has spoken, and she’s right. Can’t be afraid to take opportunities. We’ll get you the money to cover it.”
Bry nodded, “looking forward to it.” he said. Then to Morelle he said, “you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, you know.” Morelle smiled as she felt her face flush. 

They were in a small, dark room without a single window. The only light came from the feint glow of the holographic projection. In the chair before the projection was the thinnest man Morelle had ever seen, and she had spent a lot of time in scrap cities. The man stared intensely at the information flashing before his eyes. He hadn’t spoken in what felt like an hour. Morelle and her father waited in silence.
“Hmmm,” said the thin man. “HMMMM!” he said again with more enthusiasm, “Interesting.”
Morelle and her father exchanged glances. “What is it, what’s interesting?” said Morelle.
“Huh, oh yeah,” he seemed to have forgotten they were there. “You got yourself a fascinating system here.”
“So you can read it? Can you pull anything from it?” Asked her father.
“It talks about a fail safe software created before the war.” The man said.
“For what?” Morelle leaned in to get a better look at the projection, but couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
“For the cities. Would send them crashing to the ground I’m guessing.” He said it so casually. 
“Yeah right, why would they make something like that? Sounds like a fairy tale to me.”
“Maybe,” the man shrugged. “But it says here who developed it, Ali Corp.”
“Sounds dangerous,” said her father.
“In the wrong hands definitely,” said the man.”
“Bullshit,” said Morelle, then. “Do you think it’s worth anything?” She asked.
“Definitely, Corps, radicals, lots of people would pay a small fortune for this information.”
“Excellent!” said Morelle, snatching the ancient computer, disconnecting it in the process. “Your services are appreciated.” She said quickly before rushing from the room.
“Wait Mor!” Her father called, following after her.
“This is our ticket up! You heard him!” Morelle couldn’t contain her excitement.
“I think we should scrap it and take the loss.”
“What!” How could her father want to scrap it? They had a way out and he wanted to get rid of it!
“It’s too dangerous, we should scrap it and pretend that we never found it. It would be for the best.” She was speechless, what was he saying? Who cares what happened to the Corps. It was her and her father she cared about. Her father let out a sigh. “How about this, we take it with us on the next fishing trip and decide what we’re going to do with it, as a team.”
Morelle thought about it, “alright but I still think we should sell it.”
“We’ll discuss it.” He said walking towards the docks.
“I’m not going to change my mind.” she said stubbornly. Morelle followed her father through the crowded streets of the scrap city.

The sands rocked her to sleep as the sun set beneath the dunes. Morelle and her father were still arguing about what to do with the computer. The return to they’re regular routine helped things a bit though. Each had a job to do and it was done. The routine was comforting. Her mind began to drift into the realm of dreams. She was in the clouds, sailing over the earth on one of the floating cities. The world beneath her looked like a vast expanse of dirt. Disrupted by the occasional colony of ants. Her city ship began to shake. The ground crumbled around her. Morelle struggled to stay on the one solid piece. Until that too cracked beneath her and she fell into the sands below. 
It was a mouthful of dirt that woke her. Coughing she tried to spit the sand from her mouth. Morelle clawed desperately at her bed. It tossed back and forth along the surface of the sands. Their little ship, their home, was lying in pieces around her. She watched as the box that contained the computer they had found sunk below the dunes.
“Dad!” she yelled. “Dad!” she desperately called out. Above her a corporate security ship disappeared into the clouds. “Fuck you!” She screamed after the ship. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill all of you!” Morelle yelled profanities at the sky until her voice gave out.
Morelle clung to that bed for what felt like a decade. Maintaining just enough consciousness to keep her grip and spit sand. She hadn’t seen her dad amongst the waves. 
That means he might still be alive, she thought. She wasn’t sure if she believed that, but it was the only thing that kept her from letting go and slipping beneath the waves. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold on anywayway. Her arms had long since stopped burning. She felt nothing now. It was only a matter of time before they simply couldn’t grip the bed any longer.  Something picked her up, prying her grip free from her cot. She managed to crack her eyes open. Surrounding her was a group of gruff looking people.  Sailors, she thought. They looked like sailors.
“What’s your name?” one of them asked.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe now,” said another.
“Mor-” she started, remembering the corporate ship disappearing into the clouds.
 What if they’re still looking for me?’ she thought.
“Mora, my name's Mora.” she said.
“We got you now Mora, you can relax.”