Salvage by Alexandra Duncan Page A

Luck again with his ring hand.
    Luck drops to the floor. His face is bleeding. He touches the cut and stares at the red smear in confusion. ther Fortune levels a kick at his ribs. Luck collapses, all the air driven from his lungs.
    â€œNo!” I try to run to him, but the Fix holds me back.
    Luck’s father delivers another kick, and then another, and another. I cover my eyes, but I can’t escape the sound of it—the thick blows, the grunts. Finally, an ther crewemen puts a restraining hand on his arm.
    The captain steps back, breathing hard, and smoothes his hair. “It matters to me,” he says again. “Ready the airlock.”
    â€œPlease.” I stretch out my hand and step between Luck and his father. “I let him.”
    A silence falls over the room, broken only by the sound of Luck wheezing. Æther Fortune and my father turn to me slowly, and I realize what I’ve done. I should never have spoken, not at all. I know that; any so girl worth her salt knows that. My father and Æther Fortune stare at me as if one of the goats has opened its mouth and formed human speech.
    I drop to the ground and hold up my hands in supplication. “Your mercy, so father.”
    â€œYou consented?” my father hisses. His eyes are cold as the Void.
    I bow my head and nod, terrified and bewildered. My father looks as though he wants to cut my throat.
    â€œSo captain.” Luck staggers to his feet, clutching his ribs. “So father, punish me as you did Soli’s husband. The blame is mine, not Ava’s. We can still be bound, and make everything right.”
    â€œAnd what . . .” Æther Fortune’s voice is dangerous. “What makes you think you can steal my bride, small Luck?”
    Silence.
    â€œYour bride?” Luck darts a horrified look at me.
    â€œYes, my bride.” Æther Fortune flexes his hands into fists. His pockmarks stand out in sickly moons over his reddening face. “The ink’s fresh, but the contract’s signed.”
    Luck swallows. “I thought with it being time for me to take a wife, and you talking on how I’d need to marry before I take the captaincy . . .” His voice trails to nothing.
    â€œSo you’re taking the captaincy too, then?” Æther Fortune’s voice rises. “The way you’ve taken my bride? Is that what you are? My own son, an adulterer and a traitor?” He pushes Luck backward. One of the Fixes catches him before he hits the ground and pushes him back to his feet. Æther Fortune rounds on my father, breathing hard. “And you, with your some pretty lies about your virtuous daughter and her skilled hands. Now we see what they’re skilled at.”
    â€œBrother Fortune,” my father says. “On me and my wives, our regrets. Our deep apologies. Let me find you another girl from my crewe. A better bride, pure, more docile. I have a younger daughter by my third wife near enough come to womanhood. You could take her now and . . .”
    â€œI want nothing of yours, Parastrata .” Spit flies from Æther Fortune’s mouth. “Your lies or your girls or your metals. We’re done. Leave my ship.”
    â€œSo brother,” my father says a soothing voice. “Only . . .”
    â€œLeave my ship,” Æther Fortune repeats, and it comes to me he wouldn’t need a knife to kill at all.
    The Parastrata men stand tense and ready, their wine long forgotten at their feet. My father jerks his chin. His men file into two flanking columns as my father stalks from the room. He brushes past me on his way to the door, as if I’m vapor. It feels like a kick to the chest; I can’t draw breath. I glance at Luck, his eye swollen and a line of blood welling over the bridge of his nose. I want to run to him, press a cool hand to his face, wipe away the blood, but his father steps between us.
    â€œYou would have been my wife,