Burning Up

living on reduced rations of salt pork and hard tack for almost two months,” Mad Machen continued. “Those with bugs were getting along. The rest of us weren’t.”
    “You weren’t infected then?” The nanoagents couldn’t prevent scurvy, but they’d delay the symptoms much longer.
    He shook his head. “We had two weeks of sailing before we reached the Market. I informed the captain that we had to replenish our stores or a portion of the crew wasn’t going to make it. And as the health of the crew was my priority, I’d studied the maps. I’d found a river delta a day’s journey north. The river forked around an island—and the zombies don’t usually cross water. So I asked him to drop anchor long enough to forage.”
    “He didn’t agree?”
    “It meant veering toward the shore. The waters along that shelf are kraken territory.”
    Ivy’s heart thumped. The handlers at the crèche had used tales of the giant cephalopods to keep them in line as children. She’d been scared of kraken long before she learned they deserved the terror their name evoked, their long tentacles pulling apart ships or picking men from the decks and dragging them under.
    “So he decided between losing a few men or losing them all,” she realized.
    “And furious that the island meant he had to make the choice. Not that Trahaearn gave any indication of it. I didn’t realize then how ruddy pissed off I’d made him by pointing out that option—not until I had my own ship.” Mad Machen paused, a frown creasing his brow. He met her eyes again. “Resigning yourself to losing men is easier than making the decisions that will kill them.”
    Uncomfortable, Ivy looked out to sea. She didn’t want to think those decisions were difficult for Mad Machen. It didn’t fit with the image she felt strangely desperate to hold on to.
    “So he hanged you?”
    “Not for that.” A wry smile touched his lips. “The next morning, when he gave the helmsman the bearing that would take us to the Ivory Market, I told the crew to belay that order.”
    Ivy covered her mouth, staring at him. “You are mad.”
    His deep laugh creased his lean cheeks and wrinkled the corners of his eyes. He shook his head. “ ‘Mad’ was accepting the bargain he laid out for me: he’d hang me over the side, and sail toward the island as long as I was alive. Otherwise, he’d shoot me where I stood.”
    “Why is that crazy? You were dead either way.”
    “Quick would have been easier.” His gaze fell to her hands. “I think you know.”
    Yes. Even knowing what good would come of it, there had been times during her surgery she’d wished for death just to end the pain. He’d seen that with Barker.
    And Ivy hadn’t had a Mad Machen to carry her home afterward.
    He turned toward the sea again, so close that only an inch separated their arms, braced on the rail. When the ship rolled, her hip bumped lightly against his thigh.
    Ivy couldn’t catch her breath.
    “So that’s the story,” he said. “Trahaearn avoided the kraken and sailed us to the island, the men foraged for fresh food, and I woke up a week after they hauled me back onboard, miraculously still in one piece.”
    Lucky to wake up at all. “And lesson learned: don’t question the captain.”
    He shook his head. “My men question me often enough, but not in front of the crew. That, I won’t allow. Tolerating one man who undermines my authority puts the entire ship at risk.”
    Her fingers tightened on the wooden gunwale. Perhaps she shouldn’t have pushed that coffee mug into his hand.
    Mad Machen must have read the sudden worry on her face. “You’re not part of my crew, Ivy. When you challenge me, they understand you’re challenging the man, not the captain—and that you aren’t trying to take my command.”
    Relief eased through her. “I don’t want your command.”
    “Or the man?” Stark emotion lined his face for an instant, stealing her automatic response. He didn’t give her time to recover. “What do you want, Ivy?”
    Clean air. A view of the stars. Work for her mind and her hands. “To build what I’ve come to build, and to return home.”
    He looked out to the sea. After a second, he nodded. “Then let’s get you started.”
     
    S he followed Mad Machen down a ladder into the dimly lit lower deck. He walked with his shoulders bent, ducking beneath low beams with an ease that spoke of long familiarity. He led her forward through cabins lined with cannons, past