The Lost Wreck of the Spero

by Nemo West

Table of Contents

Chapter 2: Toboso

Sam’s jalopy rover clattered over the gentle hills east of New Tuscany. The oblong vessel had a narrow open deck at the bow and a ramshackle cabin astern. Fronds of prairie grass stroked the hull as the craft hovered past, creating a whispered rustle beneath the irregular clanking of the engine. The scent of wild thyme infused a hazy morning fog, stirring everyone’s appetite. As they navigated toward Toboso Marsh, they shared a snack of Fontina and crackers, paired with a tart Trebbiano from the colony’s cellars.

At mid-morning, they reached the perimeter of the squealer pylons, ranks of unassuming black posts that emitted steady subsonic frequencies to deter any marsh-dwelling celomanders from wandering toward the colony. Crossing that frontier carried them beyond the tiny oasis of civilization their families had established on Etruria. From here on out, they’d be braving the planet’s untamed and not-infrequently deadly wilderness.

By the time they stopped for lunch, the marsh loomed over the horizon, silhouetted by a dim pall of volcanic ash on the rim of the sky. Halfway across the world, a gaping, molten caldera exhaled toxins, feeding the super-massive cloud that would desolate Etruria in less than a year. None of the three friends chose to remark on what that far-off smudge in the sky portended. Instead, they focused on what they’d come out here to do.

After finishing a light meal, they pressed down into the eastern lowlands. Soon afterward Sam’s rover slid among the pale reeds rimming Toboso’s blue-black waters. A dense canopy of mangrove hung over the marsh, suspended by a thicket of intertwined prop-roots. The rasp of cricket-song filled the air, punctuated by the occasional hiss of a territorial celomander or the mournful lilt of herons. To everyone’s surprise, they also spotted another rover hovering nearby.

“Ahoy, Deak!” Sam shouted, waving his arm high overhead.

The pilot of the other rover looked up, returned the wave, and shouted, “Ahoy, Sam!” A fishing pole in the pilot’s other hand glinted in dappled Tyrrhenian sunlight.

Triss’s eyes narrowed. “Deak is here?”

“He comes out here to fish all the time,” Sam replied. “We see each other most days.”

“Must be nice to have so much free time,” Chelle muttered under her breath.

“Let’s go visit for a bit,” Sam said.

“No!” Triss said.

“What?” Sam blinked in surprise. “Why?”

“I don’t want to talk to Deak,” Triss answered.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t go over there.”

“Look, I know he wasn’t always nice to us when we were kids,” Sam said, “but he’s actually changed a lot since you’ve been gone. He and I get along pretty well these days, and I don’t want to risk that by being rude to him now.” Sam nudged the controls and angled his rover toward Deak’s. “Let’s just be polite, talk to him for a minute or two, and then we’ll be on our way. Okay?”

Triss clenched her jaw and let out a harsh exhale. “Just a minute or two. Then I don’t want to see Deak again for the rest of this trip.”

Sam seemed puzzled. “Do you have some kind of problem with Deak?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Triss replied, turning her head to glare in the opposite direction.

“I told you, he’s changed a lot,” Sam assured. “You should really give him another chance.”

Triss shook her head. “No, I shouldn’t. Let’s just get this over with. Quickly.”

From her seat near the back of the foredeck, Chelle watched the discussion between Sam and Triss with the focus of a codebreaker trying to decrypt a secret message. She had no fondness for Deak either; as the spoiled son of New Tuscany’s wealthiest family, he’d been a jerk for as long as she could remember. Yet she chose to keep her opinion to herself, not that Sam or Triss had shown any interest in her opinion anyway.

Soon Sam’s rover slid up alongside Deak’s, revealing a contrast that permeated life on Etruria. Where Sam piloted a run-down old chassis cobbled together with ad-hoc parts, Deak commanded a sleek, gleaming sports model with a graceful hull and flawless ivory upholstery. Deak himself was perched in a padded lounger on the spacious stern sundeck. A kit of nested metal trays beside him held an extensive collection of tackle, much of it carelessly flecked with bits of dried fish guts.

Since Triss had last seen him, Deak’s naturally lanky build had swollen somewhat with the paunch of indolence. A double-roll of gut bulged in the belly of his mud-stained waders. Yet his sunburned arms and shoulders remained just as gangly as she remembered. The dichotomy between his skinny limbs and fat belly made him even more repugnant in her eyes.

Deak’s focus immediately settled on Triss. “Well, look who it is,” Deak greeted with an odd intensity in his gaze. “I heard you were back in town.”

“Only to help my parents pack,” Triss replied coldly.

“Sure is nice to see you,” Deak said. “And you look even more beautiful than when you left.”

Triss turned to Sam. “Alright, that’s enough. We can go now.”

Ignoring Triss, Deak said, “You know, I haven’t seen Sam bring company out here with him in years.” His gaze glided over Sam’s rover, prompting him to add, “And it looks like you’ve brought enough gear to spend about a month in the marsh.” When he turned back to Sam, Chelle noticed his expression shift from suspicion to innocent curiosity as abruptly as if he’d pulled on a mask. “Sam didn’t drag you two out on another hunt for the Spero, did he?”

Before Sam could answer, Chelle sat forward. “We’re making one final farewell trip into the marsh,” she said, offering a convincing lie to hide their real purpose. “Since we spent so much time out here together as kids, we wanted to come say our goodbyes before the evacuation.”

Deak cocked an eye at Chelle and then drawled, “Well, that’s good. Wouldn’t want him wasting any more of your time on that wild goose chase. I keep telling him to give up on the Spero. No one’s ever found it, and no one ever will.” He shrugged. “Wish he’d listen to me one of these days.”

“No more treasure hunts for us,” Chelle assured. “Just one last trip down memory lane.”

Deak mustered an artificially cheerful smile. “Sounds like a really special trip for three old friends to be taking. Tell you what, I’ll just get back to my rod and leave you to it.” He tipped his wide-brimmed sun hat. “You all have fun and be safe out there. Sam and I both know the marsh can be a dangerous place... if you’re not careful.”

Chelle just barely overhead Triss mutter under her breath, “So can New Tuscany.”

Paying closer attention, Chelle noticed that Triss sat stiff-shouldered and kept herself angled away from Deak. In fact, the entire time they’d been speaking with him, Triss had only half-turned in his direction and refused to make eye contact. That gave Chelle pause. All this time, she’d assumed the friction between their trio of friends had been the main reason Triss left Etruria. But after seeing her frosty attitude toward Deak, Chelle had to wonder if there might have been more to Triss’s departure than she’d realized.

Sam then manned the controls and nosed his rover away from Deak’s. “Well, it was good running into you, Deak,” Sam said. “See you around!”

“Yeah. See you around, Sam,” Deak replied with a parting wave.

As Sam’s rover chugged deeper into the marsh, Chelle glanced back at Deak. She found him holding his rod and staring after them with a fixed gaze. To her surprise, she noticed that the line on his rod wasn’t in the water but dangling impotently from the shaft. Could he have been so distracted by Triss’s unexpected presence that he’d simply forgotten to cast? Or could something else be going on? She felt a strange apprehension as their craft passed behind a cluster of mangrove roots, and Deak vanished from sight.

Proceed to chapter 3...

Copyright © 2022 by Nemo West

Proceed to Challenge 960...