Frank emerged from the machine room sweaty and greasy, but content. Jamie would sail just fine for the time being. There were a couple of parts she’d have to replace sooner or later — rusty pistons that barely did their job anymore, one of the engines that should have retired years ago, and various cogs and gears that had started clanking horribly. It was all going to be fine, though. Frank had only heard rumours of the gig’s pay, but she knew for a fact that it was enough to repair Jamie once and for all.

It was her intention to go to her cabin and go over the plans a few more times; from recruiting new crew members to getting supplies, there was much to do for the next two days. However, when she climbed up to the deck, she was greeted by Eles’ bloody face. Besides the obvious bruises and cuts on his face, his limp was far worse than usual and he held himself small. Frank guessed the meeting had not gone too well.

“What the hell happened? I told you to play nice,” Frank said. She took the rag she kept in her back pocket and wiped grease and sweat off her face and neck. She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that her hair was frizzy and singed.

“You ever tried playing nice with those guys?” Eles said. He groaned as he leaned against a rickety taffrail. “It’s impossible, I keep telling you.”

“Right,” Frank sighed. “Good news first. Go.”

“I made the deal,” Eles said. “No trouble in that regard, though they would’ve preferred to make it with you in person.”

“Only an imbecile would—“

“Yeah, I told them,” Eles interrupted.

“Okay, what else?” Frank said.

“First to bring the cargo to its destination gets paid,” Eles said.

“And how much is the pay?” Frank asked.

The corners of Eles’ lips tugged. “Fifteen million,” he said slowly.

“Fifteen million?” Frank repeated. Excitement fluttered in her gut. That wasn’t just enough for Jamie’s repairs, that one was enough to buy a whole new Jamie. A dozen Jamies, even! Not that she would’ve ever done that. Jamie might have been a rusty tin can, but she was her baby. She shook her head to get rid of the distractions. “Where’s the cargo?”

“No idea. They gave us letters with further instructions,” Eles said. He scratched his chin and stared at his feet, just like he had whenever mama was about to catch him redhanded stealing a sour sweet from the bowl that was meant for customers.

“You lost the letter, didn’t you?” Frank said. The excitement, though still there, quickly made way for frustration.

“I didn’t lose it, exactly—“

“For fuck’s sake, Eles!” Frank felt like kicking someone overboard. Since Eles was the only person around and couldn’t swim well, she resisted the urge.

“It was stolen from me! It was those damn rats, you know what they’re like!” Eles waved his hands about so intensely he almost lost balance and fell into the harbour without Frank’s help.

“This job would set us up for life! Do you not understand that?” Frank said. She had started pacing without even realising it, her boots stomping and clacking on the mixture of recycled wood and metal sheets that made up the deck of Jamie. She paused to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Look, just… Get to the infirmary, patch yourself up.”

“What will you do?” Eles asked as Frank took the coat she had hung on the machine room door handle. It barely held any heat and had been fixed so many times it was more patches and stitches than coat, but she had no reason to throw it away. It was still a coat.

“I’ll try and fix this before it’s too late,” she said. Eles looked like he wanted to argue, but instead retreated below the deck to the infirmary. “A nurse,” Frank muttered as she jumped over the railing and onto the harbour floor. “That’s another one we need.”

The harbour was a long strip of concrete and birch planks that surrounded the entire city, wrapping around Helsinki Dam. The eastern docks were free, which was a plus, but they were also a long walk from the elevators. Frank didn’t mind as much, but she knew it was trouble for Eles, even if he never complained about it.

The closer to the centre she walked, the more people surrounded her. Helsinki tourism always spiked after sundown, she recalled. People who walked back to their boats and ships were families with young children, and the ones heading for the elevators were rowdy young groups, excited couples and a few lone travellers.

As always, Frank’s gut lurched with anxiety when she saw the elevators. Four glass containers in the shapes of half moons, each one large enough to deliver fifty passengers. Even though they got faster every year, they were still painstakingly slow when the claustrophobia got going.

“It’s just a glass box,” she whispered to herself when she waited in line. “Just a big glass box that could shatter any time and send everyone to their certain deaths. Not a big deal. Not a big deal at all.”

An old woman who was queuing in front of her smiled warmly and said: “It’s quite alright dear. My husband and I took these elevators when they were first built and let me tell you, in comparison, these ones feel so safe I could sleep in them.”

“Thanks,” Frank said even though it hadn’t helped one bit.

“Think of it like this,” the old woman’s husband said. “Even if you do die, it’s a fast death.”

“Alvin!” the woman shushed.

“A fast death is every old man’s wet dream. Don’t look at me like that.”

Frank snorted. That one did help, a little.

When it was their turn to enter the elevator, Frank tried her best to look at her feet. The floor wasn’t made of glass, thank heavens, and the whole thing was so packed either way that as long as she stayed in the middle, she could only catch glimpses of the city below.

Ninety meters and half a minute, Frank kept reminding herself as the doors closed. The structure lurched just a little, but in her head it could’ve been an earthquake. She could hear her heart drumming in her ears, like background music in an intense film. She wasn’t going to make it. She wouldn’t set a foot on the ground or Jamie’s deck ever again, and she wouldn’t see Eles’ stupid bloody face, and not the fifteen million eurasian rupees she had been promised. She reached out for her flask, one more sip to make the end bearable—

Ding.

She opened her eyes. Her fingers were still grasping the flask in her coat pocket. The doors opened. A green park, a street and a row of colourful old houses stood in front of her. She sighed shakily.

“Didn’t die now, did we?” said the old man, Alvin, and clapped her shoulder before he pushed past her.

Frank stepped out and breathed in air that she didn’t have to share with forty-nine others. “Right,” she said to herself. “Find a crew, get supplies, find the rats. In just one night. Easy enough.”

The park was lined with colourful little stands, each one lit up with assortments of bright lights. They sold maps, trinkets, drinks, food, art, anything a tourist with a little extra cash could wish for before entering or leaving the city. Frank walked over to the closest one that promoted maps and tours, manned by a bored-looking teenager with a shaved head.

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“What can I help you with?” the teen said in a monotone voice when she approached him. Now that she was closer, she could see the shiny tag on his chest. Vil, it read.

“I have a few things I need to get,” Frank said.

Vil’s eyes darted about. He took the keys that hung around his neck, unlocked a container Frank couldn’t see, and took something out. He placed it on the little spot of surface area between them that wasn’t covered in souvenirs and advertisements. It was a simple list with no title, naming what Frank assumed were bars, clubs and red houses, and their addresses.

“What’s this?” she asked as she took it.

“Where you get Haze,” Vil said. His face was blank, like he handed the lists out at least a dozen times a day.

“What? No, no,” Frank said quickly. “I’m looking for people to hire. For a gig.”

“Is it shady?” Vil asked.

“Of course not,” Frank lied.

“You better keep that list,” Vil said, a lopsided smirk on his face.

Frank wanted to argue, but tucked the list in her pocket. Might as well. She swapped it with a shiny copper pin and put it on the counter for Vil to see. It looked a bit like a mark, except instead of any number on it it had the letter R on one side, and a picture of three rodents in a circle with their tails knotted together on the other. “Have you seen this around?”

“Maybe,” Vil said. He took the pin and inspected it in the light of a red-hued lamp. Frank rolled her eyes and took out her string purse. She dropped first three marks, and then five more when Vil looked unimpressed. He put the coins into his pocket and said: “Brother and sister, probably twins or something. They came down this afternoon.”

“Do you know where they’re staying?” Frank asked. She tried not to sound too hopeful.

“I might,” Vil said. He glanced at her purse again.

“Heavens,” Frank muttered. She shook four more marks onto her palm and handed them to Vil.

“Peter’s Street, room two-oh-seven. Big circle window up top, and a tower. You go across this park, up the street, left at the second crossing. Take the blue door in the courtyard. Can’t miss it,” Vil instructed.

“Cheers,” Frank said. In any other situation she would’ve tipped the boy, but he had almost bled her dry just for scraps of information.

“What’s that gig you were talking about?” Vil asked before she could leave.

“Why? You know someone who might be interested?” Frank said.

“Maybe,” Vil said again.

Frank didn’t trust him, exactly, but out of everyone Frank knew in Helsinki (not that she knew many), he was her best bet to find a crew member or two. She said: “Tell them to find Mad Jamie at the eastern harbour.”

Vil nodded. Frank didn’t waste any more time. She waved him goodbye and headed into the sea of people gravitating towards the streets of Helsinki. Some of them were passing flyers promoting some sort of an event happening that night. It was no wonder there were more tourists about than normal.

Like Vil had promised, Peter’s Street wasn’t hard to find. It was inconspicuous enough for a hotel so deep in the centre, just an old building among hundreds of others in similar style. The lobby was cramped and dusty, and the receptionist so tired she didn’t even register Frank coming in.

Frank didn’t bother asking, just headed straight for the second floor. She took one glance at the elevator — ancient, with creaky metal bars and a flickering light — and opted for the stairs instead.

Two-oh-seven had a door identical to the other rooms, heavy dark wood with bronze numbers at eye level. Frank tried knocking twice, but no one came to answer. She pressed her ear against the door to listen in. Nothing.

It was a better time than any to try out the new gadget she had been working on. She hadn’t named it yet — she had always been bad at names — so she just called it The Unlocker for now. She had crafted it out of a tiny old motor that had a nasty squeak, a bunch of rusty pins, and censors from a stolen flint-clip.

Frank looked around to make sure no one was around to see. She then carefully pushed the pins into the lock and clicked the device. She held her breath. The motor squealed in a high pitch, making her wince, but it appeared to be working. Over the motor, she heard one faint tick, then another, and finally a third before the whole lock clicked. She tried the handle. It was open.

She stepped in, only to groan disappointedly. The whole place had been trashed. The two beds in the middle of the room had had their sheets ripped out, an armchair was on its back, papers, money and clothes were spread around the room like a miniature hurricane had entered it.

Frank took out her communicator. It was a janky old thing, nothing like the fancy ones she had seen some of her old bosses use. It only had the necessities; the keyboard, the slim screen that could only show two rows of text at once, and the little blue light that blinked whenever the device was running out of battery. She had made it herself years ago, and besides Jamie it was her only build that still worked.

Someone else has it, she typed in, then chose Eles out of her three contacts, and hit send. She considered waiting for a reply but thought better. She still had time to find the letter, if the robber was close enough. She put the communicator into her bag and headed out.

Only, the hallway wasn’t empty this time. A girl, half a head shorter than Frank herself, stood by the door as if waiting for her. She was in all black, and her dark curls were braided loosely. Her eyes were slightly milky. Not as much as some of the worst Haze-heads Frank had seen, but she clearly. The moment she faced Frank, her mouth twisted into a big smile.

“I thought I would’ve missed you. Looks like fate’s on our side, huh?” the girl said.

“Who are you?” Frank asked. The girl couldn’t have been a Copper Rat. The pin was nowhere to be seen, and her clothes weren’t high-end enough.

“I heard you’re looking for a crew,” the girl said. Frank couldn’t help but be impressed. Vil worked fast.

“I don’t need a Haze rat on my ship,” she said. She tried to walk past the girl, but she sidestepped in front of her.

“I’m a people expert. I have a feeling you might need one,” the girl said.

“We already have a people expert,” Frank said. Well, they were going to have one. Eles said he was still working on it.

“I’m better than them. I’ve met every kind of person there is,” the girl insisted.

“Right,” Frank said impatiently. She was going to lose the robber, at this point. Maybe she could still catch the twins, though, and somehow get the location out of them… if they had opened the letter before it was taken, that is.

“You’re a drunk, first of all, so let’s not get started on my drug problem,” the girl said.

“If you think that’s going to get you on my crew—“

“I’m not finished, darling. You hate yourself, and you think you don’t show it but it’s painfully obvious. You feel that your crew is more family than your real family ever was — they didn’t get you, your parents, did they? You’re trying to prove them wrong, trying to make something of yourself. And look at you now! Captain of a rusty bucket. They must be proud of you.”

“You don’t know a thing about me,” Frank said through gritted teeth.

“Am I not right?” the girl asked. Frank resisted the urge to slam her against a wall.

“Just— Why do you want to join us so bad?” she asked instead.

“Desperate need of a holiday,” the girl said casually.

“We’re not going on a holiday,” Frank said.

“Nice warm beaches, historical sights, tanning on the deck… sounds like a holiday to me,” the girl said.

Frank’s eyes narrowed. “You know where we’re going,” she realised.

“Your friends from the rat gang don’t watch out for pickpockets. Looks like they trashed their whole room looking for it. Pretty desperate if you ask me. I guess this means that they don’t know where they’re supposed to be going, and we have an advantage,” the girl said.

“Who’s we?” Frank asked.

“Me, you, you and me. We’re a team! Come on, captain. You need me, admit it.” The girl stepped closer. She smelled like smoke and Haze.

“I could just beat it out of you,” Frank suggested, an eyebrow raised.

“I’d like to see you try, baby,” the girl said. When Frank didn’t answer, she said: “Well?”

“You really have the letter?” Frank asked.

“Hell no!” the girl laughed. “I burned it. Can’t have anyone else seeing it, right?”

“Right,” Frank muttered. She weighed her options. There weren’t many, she had to admit. The girl was a bad investment, but she had information Frank couldn’t get her hands on quick enough at this point. If she was too much of an inconvenience, Frank could just get rid of her once they got to the destination. She decided: “I have one condition.”

“Shoot me,” the girl said.

“You’re going to get clean,” Frank said. Her tone was blunt, straight to the point. No ifs or buts.

“Like you’re one to—“

“Shut it. I’m the captain. I don’t need a big crew, but I do need my crew to be in their best shape, always,” Frank said.

“Is that why you have a cripple on your team?”

Once more, Frank wanted to throw the girl into a wall. Or out a window, preferably. Instead, she said: “No more Haze. Not in your veins, and certainly not on my ship. I’m not funding anyone’s drug problem.”

“You think that lowly of me? I’ll bring my own supply, you know, you don’t need to—“

“And what happens when you run out, huh? No,” Frank said.

“Jesus… Fine.” The girl offered her hand. She had one ring on her thumb, simple silver with foreign text circling around the band. “I’m Nila.”

“Frank. Captain Frank Riis,” Frank said as she shook Nila’s hand.

“Well, captain. It’s an honour to be part of the crew,” Nila said. To Frank’s surprise, it almost sounded like she meant it.