Insomnia

12: Oscar

South Atlantic, December 2124

"A ship!" The sailor pointed to the horizon, where a dark body had indeed appeared.

Another fell to his knees, as if in prayer. "We're saved!"

"Quiet." The captain cut their celebrations short. "Are you all fools? Men of the sea are no more charitable than those on the land, as you should well know. Instead, they can be as hostile as the ocean itself. This ship will not save us. If we are lucky, the crew will pass us by. If they do take us aboard, I promise you it will not be out of kindness."

Mariana nodded. "Slavers?"

"Perhaps," he turned to her. "Or they may just be savage men who, craving a woman, will take you and leave the rest of us to drown. I have heard tales of cannibals, too, but never of charity. If that ship picks us up, we will be far from saved."

"Then we have to flee," a young sailor replied.

The captain shook his head. "We will drown. You have seen what currents can do, even to a ship. In this raft, we will be dragged back into the heart of storm."

"Trapped between Scylla and Charybdis," muttered the librarian.

"Then what do we do?" I asked the captain, ignoring her.

"We fight. They have a ship, and we happen to need one. We have no other option but to take them by surprise, climb aboard, and hope that we get lucky. This is what we brought strong men like you for, after all. Are you ready?"

He was one of the first that they killed.

There were just too many of them, in the end. We fought, but we lost, and once the captain was killed our spirits were broken. We were just eager to be taken from the lifeboat, now rapidly filling with blood.

In a way, we were lucky. Our captors trussed us up, but they didn't abuse us, and kept us fell-wed in a comfortable hold. They don't want to spoil their goods, Mariana explained. We still didn't know what they had planned for us, and it was the not knowing that kept me away, and made the journey seem like a lifetime. We could be sailing to our deaths, I knew. Or worse.

Then, finally, we reached land.

We heard the port before we saw it. I heard the calls of sailors mingle with the cries of salesmen, a cacophony combining all sounds of human life. Surprisingly, I understood every word. This was not O Mercado, that I could tell, but this was Portuguese I was hearing. They've taken us home. A return to Brazil marked the end of our quest, but re-opened doors I'd though long closed. I can go back. I can see mamã again.

As we were led from the hold, though, I knew something was wrong. The accent was odd, not like any I'd heard before. Portugal? I'd heard Europe was flooded, drowned by the rising sea. The men who met us, pulling us roughly away from the dock, did not seem European. They were all dark-skinned, and spoke in a strange dialect. I looked to Mariana, who read the confusion in my face.

"Angola," she said, before we were pulled apart. "Africa."

Some of the older crew had been taken elsewhere, vanishing almost as soon as we'd left the boat, but the librarian and I were being marched towards a large group of men. To our sides, I recognised a number of other sailors, including Antonio, as well as fresh meat from other incoming ships. This group must have had an agreement with our captors.

The men parted as we passed through their ranks, being led to a crude shelter. Ranks is right, I thought, noting the weapons carried. This is an army. I'd never been small, but I felt dwarfed by some of these guards. There were some women, too, but even they looked lethal. I worried for Mariana. They want me for my strength; that much was obvious. But why her?

If these were large men, though, it was a giant that emerged from the shade.  He stood a head taller than the rest of the company, with his shoulders as broad as my arm. He'd seen battle, too; scars could be traced along his arms, but the greatest wound covered his face, where some projectile had removed an eye.

"We depart now. The General will lead us north, to harvest food from the settlements that we find." A second man had joined the giant, and now addressed all of the soldiers. The slaves, I corrected myself. If they were soldiers, so was I. We did not sign up for this.

When he spoke again, I did not recognise his words, but knew their meaning was likely the same. This was a cosmopolitan group, it seemed, and orders needed translating into many different languages. Some sounded similar to my ears, but I definitely heard the speaker use at least six. 

Then I was being pulled away again, pushed into a segment, and Antonio sent to another. They are splitting us up. I looked for Mariana, worried, but she'd disappeared. We began to march away. The men around me were silent, and I followed their suit, just as I matched their strides.

A full hour passed without a familiar face. Then, through the shifting ranks, I saw a glimpse of lighter skin. Mariana. The librarian walked with the translator, and seemed to be unharmed. If anything, she seemed in control of the situation: she was speaking, and he occasionally nodded. She must have pushed her way to him at the start, I guessed, and somehow convinced him of her uses. The translator was presumably an educated man, and could appreciate her intelligence. If he spoke to her for strategic advice, or for mere company, I had no idea.

Behind them, there was no missing the General. Even amongst his personal guard, he stood clearly above the group, marked out by his distinctive scars. I might have imagined it, but he seemed to be scowling at the pair. I wondered what they were discussing. Mariana had mostly spoken in riddles, mentioning names and texts I didn't know, but she'd seemed knowledgeable all the same.

Was she suggesting their next move, a grand plan for this fearsome army? Raiding villages was enough to stay alive, but she'd seemed more ambitious than that. Had she mentioned our own quest, the dream of Antarctica? She was too far for me to hear. I wondered if we'd get a chance to speak, when next we made camp. I wondered if she'd want to. I am a slave, now. One of hundreds.

Then we pushed forward, and they were lost in the crowd.