“We’re shipping out tomorrow.” First Mate said.

“So soon?” Lucas said, surprised.

Melody was standing next to First Mate, looking embarrassed.

“Yea. I’ve just got… a bad feeling about staying. “

This seemed to carry weight with Lucas, because he just nodded.

“I thought Selimy was the seer.” I said, smiling, but the three just stared at me.

“Get a little rest, Sam. We’re going to go pick up the cargo a little early. You’ll help load it up with Quiver when we get back. Right?”

Me? Why just me? But I kept my mouth shut. Sometimes I knew when to stop digging my own grave.

“Sure.”

I clomped back to my room, pushed my door open and stifled a shout.

“Oh! Hey, Sammy!” Elma said, standing from her crouch. “No? Alright. Just Sam then.”

I looked around my room and saw that it had been furnished in my absence. Nothing fancy, but there was a table screwed to the floor, my bed had covers on it, there was a small dresser with handles you had to turn to open so they didn’t come sliding out on high seas. Elma had a tool belt around her waist and a power drill in one hand. Which looked funny since she was wearing extremely comfortable looking fuzzy pajamas at the same time.

“I grabbed a bunch of stuff from a friend of mine whose got a warehouse full of extra junk. Figured she wouldn’t mind if I got this room fixed up for you.”

“Uh. Thank you. Really.” I said hesitantly.

She grinned, a genuine smile this time. It would have been nice, if her mouth hadn‘t been filled with pointed teeth designed for ripping and tearing flesh.

“I’m going to go to sleep now.” I said, “I didn’t get much last night.”

“Ha! Me neither!” She said, “You should come out clubbing with me and Melody tonight!”

“That would make me more tired.” I said, “Thanks, but I’m gonna pass.”

“Ok. Rain check. Our first stop is going to be Adler’s Grave. The clubbing scene isn’t great, but they’ve got a freaking amazing bar that serves you in cups made of Crystal Coral, and they’re not weird about non-humans there, so we can bring Quiver along if they’re up to it! They’re always good for a laugh when they get drunk.”

“Yea. Maybe. Uh. Sorry, but can you go? I’m gonna get to bed. I’ve got to move cargo when the others come back.”

“Oh. Sure. Sure!” She said, “See you later Sammy. Sam. Sorry.”

I was up before First Mate knocked on my door, so I was able to open it before the second knock.

We were leaving tomorrow. Out into The Ocean.

It had been a difficult thought to evict from my mind, difficult not to dwell on it instead of going to sleep. It was both exciting and frightening. The Ocean was not earth, that everyone pretty much agreed on. It was something else, somewhere else. The rules I knew would not apply, or would apply selectively, or apply when they felt like it, which made things even weirder than if there was just a different system in place. There were stories of people who found it so disturbing they lived in fear of water for the rest of their lives, while others told of men and women who loved it so much they went out on The Ocean for longer and longer time periods until eventually they vanished. One story covered in the papers a few years back had a woman return to Atlanta 103 years after she set out, only a year or two older. It was generally regarded as a true story, even though the woman was gone now. She’d set sail again, and hadn’t come back, but photos and first hand accounts existed.

“Woa, that was quick. Excited about packing?” First Mate said when I opened the door. I just rubbed my eyes and grunted. I was still tired. “Quivers already started. Don’t worry too much. Your job isn’t going to be too difficult. Quiver does most of the heavy lifting. Your job is to grab the stuff their tendrils are too big to reach, or anything that’s delicate, and lash down the cargo. That and keep them company.”

There was a wide, hatch like opening in the cargo bay that I hadn’t noticed before. I came down the stairs, and as I watched, a crane of some sort lowered a stack of boxes into the hatch. Quiver sat, immobile, waiting, until the crane detached itself. Then their tendrils stretched out, and they took the stack of boxes apart with an unrelenting efficiency, moving them into a corner of the room where other boxes were stacked.

“Hello, Sam.” Quiver said when I arrived. Their body turned to face me, though their tendrils didn’t stop unstacking and stacking things until all the boxes were in their place, the odd colored tentacles moving like independant creatures.

“Hi, Quiver. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing ok.” They looked up. Another stack of boxes was coming down. “I know you’re tired of hearing this, but I’m sorry for being drunk last night, and for paralyzing your leg. This crew has a drinking problem.”

I laughed,

“It’s alright. I got drunk last night too, after I met with you. I’m not much better.”

I stepped closer to her, a little hesitantly. The tendrils seemed to be much more in control now, and focused away from me, though several were holding Quiver’s small -- though now that I was closer, I noticed that while it was slender and delicate looking, it wasn’t actually that small-- body aloft.

“The ropes and cinches are in that container over there.” They said, pointing with a slim hand. “Could you lash the boxes down, please? Do you know how to do it?”

“I do, actually.” I said, opening a footlocker that had inside it a number of ropes and hooks and lashings all neatly piled and easy to reach. “I worked in a warehouse for a little while, and we had to do something similar when we put them on a cargo truck, or when they were lifted by a crane.”

“Good. So it should be simple.”

Now that they weren’t drunk, Quiver spoke in a measured, even voice. The way she moved was very meticulous, almost slow but not quite. Not slow in a way that suggested sluggishness anyway, but in a way that suggested care. I supposed if I had giant paralytic tendrils I might learn to be careful with them as well.

I began lashing down the boxes as Quiver received more of the cargo. It was boring, repetitive and hurt my freaking back bending up and down so much to cinch the ropes together.

“What’s in here, anyway?” I asked, and felt foolish that I hadn’t asked before.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Medical supplies, mostly. Some food they can’t get out on the Ocean. The Continents are a lot easier to mass produce things on. The Ocean is for collecting raw materials, but things shift too much to set up a factory or something similar in most places. These are destined for Adler’s Grave.”

“I’ve heard of that place. It was one of the first permanent outposts in the Ocean. Settled by New Texans and then, like New Texas before it, ceded from it’s home country. It was such an important port for all nations involved that New Texas couldn’t take it back or risk the wrath of the United States, Caligon, Canada and Pensacola.”

Quiver’s body shrugged from where it was suspended.

“Maybe? I don’t actually know much about that sort of thing. The continent doesn’t interest me much. I’ve never even stepped foot on it.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Quiver confirmed. “People don’t like me. And the continent is filled with people, and not a lot of water. But you don’t mind me, it seems.” They said, and suddenly their tendrils had stopped moving, and they were peering intently at me. “We’re similar, you know. Lucas told me.”

“Uh. Really?” I said, trying my best to imagine what I could have in common with this strange creature.

They nodded, and then a creeping steely grey began to crawl up the ends of their tendrils, quickly consuming the rest of them. After a moment, Quiver was the same color as the floor of the cargo bay. It wasn’t quite invisibility like mine, but if I hadn’t known they were there, I doubted I would have been able to spot them.

“I see.” I said, “I guess we are a little similar.”

Quiver didn’t respond, and didn’t change back. I waited a moment, and then activated my augment. My skin began to eat itself, and soon we stood unmoving, both of us functionally invisible to the innatentive eye. I heard Quiver giggle.

“Sam? Quiver?” We heard someone call down from the deck of the boat. Thatch’s wooden, masked head peered down into the bay. “Why aren’t things moving? Hello? Where did you…?”

We both shifted back into view and Thatch straightened, which seemed as much an expression of startlement as the wooden man could convey.

“Oh. Yes. Wonderful. Now we’ve two that can sneak around undetected.”

“Sam is better at it than me.” Quiver said, without a hint of resentment. “He’s almost completely invisible, and he’s not as big as me, so he can walk around the halls without bumping into anyone.”

“Yes, and when he tries he won’t scare any of our passengers to near literal death.”

“I… was hungry. I needed to go to the kitchen.” Quiver said, turning away as if embarrassed, “And I didn’t want any of them to see me. I thought they would all be asleep.”

“You take passengers?” I asked,

“Occasionally.” Thatch said, “On shorter journey’s, and if they aren’t going somewhere as dangerous as the Necropolis Isles.”

“Which is why I’m crew.”

“Yes.” He said, “We’re almost done, but the crane operator is wondering why the boxes haven’t been moved yet. If you give him too much time he’s going to find an excuse to come down here and take a look around. You know he’s interested in finding out who unpacks all his boxes so fast.”

Quiver hissed, and her tendrils began unpacking again, faster than before.

We finished soon after. I made sure to walk the hold, checking all of my cinches again. It wouldn’t do to have them come undone on the journey, and I’d had to do them fast thanks to Quiver’s unloading speed.

“Nice work.” I said, wiping sweat from my brow. My sleeve seemed to come away wet. It was much warmer here than was usual in Portland, not to mention humid. It could get humid back home, inside during the rainy season, but not like this.

“You as well.” Quiver said. I nodded at them. This is not what I imagined myself doing. Not ever. Working in a boiling ship’s hold with a monster that could have come from some aquatic nightmare if it hadn’t been so polite and inoffensive. Life was strange. I honestly never thought I’d even leave Caligon until recently.

“Well. I suppose I’ll head back up. I’m practically breathing water down here.”

“Alright. Feel free to come back. To talk, if you want.” Quiver said, almost shyly.

“Oh. Yes. Sure. I’d love to.” I said, not sure if I was lying or not. Why would I come back down into this dank dark place? Then again, why wouldn’t I? There would be nothing else to do on the long journey across the ocean.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want.” Quiver said quickly.

“Oh, no. I mean it. I’ll come.” I said, deciding that I would. Paralyzed leg or no, Quiver seemed pleasant enough. Plus, I was pretty sure they wouldn’t eat me. “Likewise, feel free to call on me whenever you like.” I had a sudden, terrifying vision of Quiver sneaking invisibly through the halls of the ship.

Back on deck I found Hawthorn in his usual spot, umbrella out and over his head. The sun was beginning to set, but the temperature hadn’t cooled much and the sun was still unabashedly broiling everyone below it.

“Now what?” I said,

“Word of advice.” Hawthorn said, his eyes shut and a cigarette in his lips. Though the cigarette was unlit, for once. He opened his eyes and seemed to notice this oversight and took out a box of matches, carefully striking a match before putting it to his cigarette. “Don’t ask that question or Thatch’ll give you more work to do.”

“I don’t mind helping. Work is honest.”

He snorted,

“More of that Sacred Trust gabble?”

“Not exactly.” I said, setting my jaw. “But in Megan Hershel’s Philosophy of Happiness she does say---”

“Alright, alright. I get it.” Hawthorn said, raising a hand. “Yeesh. ‘Megan Hershel’s Philosophy of happiness’?”

“I went to the library a lot as a kid.”

“And you read stuff like that? Were you born with wrinkles?”

“Of course not. When I was a kid I read a lot of adventure stories.” I said, “About the Ocean, a lot of them.”

“Heh. I remember those. Prepared Perez was the most famous one, I think. The Water Folk were usually the bad guys in those books, weren’t they? You make a little more sense now.”

“ I know they’re mostly bunk,” I said quickly, “but they were, you know, fun.”

“You know that, do you?” Hawthorn snickered.

I tried to shift the conversation. Hawthorn was one of those people who could make you feel like an idiot with just a look, even if you weren’t saying anything particularly stupid.

“But when I got older, I realized I wasn’t learning anything. So I moved to philosophy and history. I came to the Sacred Trust through some of those books.”

“Well now, that’s a little more impressive. You chose to join those nut jobs. Usually people just believe whatever their parents tell them to believe.”

“Fuck you, Hawthorn.” I said, and headed down the stairs, trying my best not to let my anger show.”

“Yea, you should probably head to bed.” Hawthorn said lazily. “Out and on the ocean tomorrow, right as the sun comes up. Get an early nights sleep.”

I headed below decks and found my way into the kitchen. I was hungry. It didn’t seem like anyone was making dinner tonight, so I assumed it was fend for yourself. I briefly considered cooking something, but then decided against it. I wasn’t feeling up to the task. I’d convinced Melody to buy the granola bars that weren’t covered in chocolate. I could munch on one of those.

But when I came into the kitchen I found Melody sitting at the table, a half filled wine glass in hand, staring at the table.

“Elma said you were going out clubbing with her tonight.”

Melody jumped, and some of the wine sloshed out of the cup and onto her blouse.

“Sam. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sneak? I walked right in. Believe me, you wouldn’t have noticed me if I’d wanted to sneak up on you.”

“Right. You can turn invisible. First Mate told me.” She said, and looked down into her cup. She sloshed the liquid in it around before taking a long sip. I noticed she was shaking.

“What’s wrong?” I said, my brows furrowing.

“Nothing. Nothing. I just… if I stay in one place too long I get jittery. Nervous. We’ve been in Tallahassee too long.”

“How long is too long? How long have you been in port?”

“Only a few days. And I don’t know. It’s different every time. It depends on how long it takes to find me.”

“ It?” I said,

She looked back up at me and her eyes were wild.

“The Wolf. The God Damn Mother Fucking shit headed Wolf!” She suddenly snarled. She stared at me for a moment and I was vaguely certain that she was about to attack me. But then her face morphed into an expression of startlement, and then sank into embarrassment. “Er. Never mind. Don’t… hey, just ignore me.” She said, standing up. “Just… It doesn’t matter, alright? We’re leaving tomorrow. It doesn’t matter.”

And then she staggered out of the room, wine glass in hand.

I watched the door for a second, angry at Hawthorn, and now thoroughly disconcerted by Melody. But neither of those two states of mind made me any less hungry. I rummaged around the kitchen for the granola bars and when I found them made a beeline for my room. As I went, someone opened the door to the rec room. Selimy. The tall woman looked over in my direction, the bandages across her eyes strangely piercing, for all they could not see. And then she… began to glide. Selimy’s feet didn’t touch the ground, but she moved down the hallway anyway, like a… like a…. Like freaking ghost, as cliche as that sounded.

“That you, Sam?”

“Uh. Yea.”

“Cool. Just checking.”

“Selimy?” I asked as she passed.

“Mhm.”

“What…are you doing?”

“I’m in a floating mood today.” She shrugged, as if that were all the explanation I needed, and then floated down the hall and to her cabin door which opened without her touching it, and shut after she went through.

I rushed to my cabin, slammed my own door shut and locked it. I kept telling myself crews on the Ocean were supposed to be strange, but I was beginning to think I had rather underestimated what exactly people had meant when they said that.