Haggling for Truth

The ground shook as people poured outside the city walls. Vesuvius heaved and roared, calling to his brothers.

The land spasmed, sighed, and split with a deafening crack. The chasm widened and spread further, reaching all over the Earth. Other volcanoes received the call and answered with burning fervor, spitting lava and smoke.

No one was safe. Nowhere was safe. The land could take no more. It ruptured, it cried, it sunk.

***

The submarine's lights twinkled green and yellow as it backed into the station's dock compartment. A satisfying clang announced the safe connection. Pressure valves hissed. Oxygen globes spun slower and came to a gentle stop.

Inside the ship Ray checked all the systems, frowned at each sensor in turn, and stretched with a pleased smile.

"Ts-ts, shouldn't forget."

He turned off the oxygen for luminous shrimps and fiddled with the security system. Done.

Ray shrugged on a black jacket and quickly ran his fingers through messy, copper curls.

"That will be enough. Not a single proper gentleman in the lower area of the trade hub anyway."

Ray pressed his palm to the sensor, opening the door, and stepped out onto the brainy docks of Driftmoor Exchange. He walked slowly, careful not to slip on the dirty concrete floor, littered with ribbons of seaweed and an occasional dried up starfish. It smelled of salt and life. Colorful fish zigzagged behind the enormous windows.

Automatic doors led Ray towards the market. Fresh and gutted fish, pickled anemone, miniscule pearls, preprocessed scales, feed for lighting shrimps. To find the real treasures, one should know the correct words to whisper into the correct ear or a shady name to give to a barman at a shady tavern.

The whole place was abuzz with gossip, haggling, surprised gasps of robbed customers, fish splashing, and angry drunken hollers. Ray listened to all of it while pretending to take the outmost interest in the items offered at stalls, be it pufferfish skin or eel liver.

"Get all them sea cucumbers off your hands already. A rumor floats around. Their price will sink soon."

"Damn, Vulcan corporation! What are they gonna announce this time?"

"Don't forget to return in a couple of weeks. You wouldn't want to miss the giant turtle migrating."

"Too late. There isn't much left of the debris. Not even a cleaner fish will be able to find a useful scrap."

Ray slowed down casually and circled to a pair of speaking merchants.

"What plump sea urchins you've got here! Scooped up when?" Ray gawked and playfully shook one by its stubby needle.

"Brought this morning. By my own boy, freshness guaranteed," the vendor spit down, his saliva dark from the octopus ink tobacco.

"Aww, what a hardworking son! You've got to be so proud of him."

"450 shells for a dozen of cleaned up ones, 200 - for a dozen still full of needles."

Ray whistled, "Is not getting stung by these beauties really worth 250 shells?"

"Wanna try? The first prickle is free."

"I prefer a dozen spiky urchins. Then I can stab myself to my heart's content."

"Sure, I don't judge. As long as you pay up."

"Here you go. By the way, about that debris. Do you know if any of the crew survived?"

The merchant stopped picking urchins and squinted up at Ray. "Both dead. Unfortunately. Nothing of value is left. All scavenged."

Ray gulped, "Unfortunate indeed. Who were they? Locals?"

"Nah, a pair of lowlifes. From the very bottom. Brothers, I heard. Crossed the wrong shoal."

"Yikes! What a vibrant life you have here. Sounds like a lot of opportunities for anyone unafraid of sullying themselves in the sand."

"If you looking, I'm not selling that. All my wares right here," he tapped his shelves.

"You seem to be the most informed around here. Heard about any particularly juicy jobs lately? One of my friends told me she fished up a huge one around these waters."

"Why not ask your friend?" The merchant hurriedly packed the remaining urchins and thrust them at Ray.

"Wish I could. She is too busy earning shells," Ray brought his hand close to the seafood and stopped. "A tall, slim girl with a striking long ponytail. In her late twenties, missing a tooth here. Mean eyes. Probably flaunting a white top and huge earrings. Seen her around?"

"Doesn't ring a bell," the merchant looked on, expressionless. "Your urchins."

***

After strolling through a wide array of stalls for the better part of the day, Ray skeptically inspected his purchases. Not his favorites, but edible enough. And still no morsel of information about her. He grunted. There was one more stop on the menu. He must learn a useful clue there. Who knows how much time he had left.

Ray chose the centermost table at the tavern, to be impossible to miss, if someone wished to find him. He was halfway through his order of puréed buttered crab when a broad shouldered guy with bushy sideburns wordlessly joined him.

Their eyes met. Ray acknowledged him with an open smile and went back to his dish.

"No surprise you are starving after spending an entire day on foot searching through the Driftmoor Exchange. Didn't even take a moment to rest after your journey. That is dedication."

The stranger flashed a lop-sided grin and waved for a servant to bring 2 beers.

They waited for their mugs in silence. Only the spoon scraping the bowl and the stranger's fingers tapping the table.

"For a favorable tide," the man toasted.

Ray followed. "For a favorable tide!" he pretended to taste the drink. "I'm Ray. Sorry, you seem to know so much about me while I don't even have your name."

"Everybody here calls me Ripley," he nodded a greeting.

"So, Ripley, thanks for welcoming me. I can't remember anyone ever worrying so much about me except my mum. I'm touched. Truly. As a token of my gratitude..." he waved the servant for 2 more beers. "And allow me to pay for these too."

"A generous man after my own heart. But allow me one more drop of motherly concern. How wise is it to keep on spending when searching for a job? And paying everywhere in cash, no less."

Ripley slowly dragged his gaze down to Ray's wrist. Ray turned his arm around, allowing for the chip outline to be clearly visible under the skin, and raised a confused eyebrow at the man.

"Didn't mean to imply," Ripley raised both hands. Then finished his first mug. "And you could have said if you don't like beer," he seized Ray's portion and emptied it in one go.

Their drinks were renewed.

Ripley lounged, appearing comfortable, patient for Ray to be done with his dinner. "Hope it was to your liking. We are re-eally proud of our cooking. Proud of Driftmoor Exchange. And you come here looking for?"

"Getting back to business! Always a pleasure to deal with a straightforward man," Ray toasted to him and this time tried the beer. "Heard there was a rather lucrative opportunity floating around. Maybe involving acquiring someone else's assets further north. And a reward with 8 digits."

"Such riches don't float around for long. And you heard about it from?"

"My friend."

"Your friend," Ripley nodded. "Sorry. The job is no longer available."

Ray startled. Sipped his beer to buy some time. "Then, by any chance, have you seen my friend?"

Ripley hummed to himself. "I do remember a feisty woman bearing a striking resemblance to you."

"Sounds like we're talking about the same person. She still in Driftmoor Exchange?"

"Can't tell," he shrugged.

"How long since she left?"

Ripley's smile gave Ray goosebumps.

"Anything at all you can tell?"

"An advice. Do not worry needlessly. Go back, be a patient little brother, and wait. I'm sure she'll reach out to you in time. You share such a strong bond after all."

Not strong enough to tell him what she was getting herself into this time. Bad at lying, she got angry instead when Ray pressed her for details. He wasn't too worried the last time he saw her, he had a plan B. Now he had nothing but worries.

"I won't go back. I'll travel farther north, I'll ask anyone I meet, whether they want to hear me out or not. I won't stop talking until-"

"A troublemaker then."

"There is an easy way to stop me from prying more."

"Nothing easier with how vast the bottom of the ocean is."

Ray listened closely. The tavern was full, but barely any talking could be heard. How many of them were with this guy?

"It makes me sad you do not take my advice seriously, but I'll try again. If you cannot help your big blabbering mouth, hold it shut tight until you reach the Atlanopolis."

The man pushed back his chair and left without another word.