Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,111
was truly terrifying.
Now that the factory had been destroyed and Lir deposed, the number of people who would crave the drug more furiously than Caledonia was staggering. And without Sledge to help transform their lives after, the work was going to be much more challenging.
Without Sledge.
He’d driven the ship into the crusher, steering with his own hands, never straying, planting himself like a mountain at her flank. Pisces had shared the story through a steady stream of tears. Sledge had seen what needed to happen and his crew had agreed. His last call had been to Pine aboard the Triple.
Sorrow pulled at Caledonia, a too-heavy stone in her pocket. There was so much more of it to come. Sledge had sacrificed himself to get her through the megaship and he wasn’t the only one. The battle was theirs, but the cost had been great.
The fight had not lasted long once Donnally blew the factory. By the time Caledonia had bound Lir and found her brother, tossed free of the explosion but unconscious, her crew was on their way to her.
Before she knew it, she was aboard her ship, separated from her brother once more. Part of her had been desperate to go to him, but Hime insisted that she rest and give the Silt time to work its way out of her system. They were taking care of the fallout. Pisces remained in command and everything would survive if she closed her eyes. Didn’t she want to see her brother again with a clear head? She did. And last night, it had been enough to know he was safe. Now, however, she couldn’t tell if the tremble in her blood was exhaustion or the prospect of seeing Donnally.
Careful of her stitches, Caledonia rolled out of bed and braced her hands against the sink. The ship rocked as much as her head and it took a moment to find her balance. She splashed some water on her face and wrestled her hair into a braid, doing her best to pick out the knots masquerading as curls. Sluggish or not, she had work to do.
As she slipped a fresh shirt over her head, the skin pulled painfully around her stitches and she wondered if there’d been enough Silt in her blood to paint the scar orange when it formed. Some part of her hoped it would. That there would be some outward sign of all the turmoil she would carry with her.
The air in the hallway tasted cold as she headed topside, where familiar sounds layered over one another—the clink of metal against metal, the bright calls of her crew, the constant churn of the desal tanks down on level three. Everything had returned to a less frenzied pace.
The minute she appeared in the hatchway, her presence was announced by a call of “Captain on deck!”
As one, her crew paused to acknowledge her. They’d been working around the clock and exhaustion showed in their eyes, but there was also a new kind of energy, a vibrance and sense of wonder at having defeated the sprawling beast that had hunted them for so long. What did that mean for tomorrow? None of them knew.
“As you were,” Caledonia said, releasing them back to their duties and turning her own steps toward the lookout atop the bridge.
It was well past dawn as Caledonia began to climb. She moved slowly at first, trying to find the movements that didn’t pull at her stitches, then she rushed upward. Hand over hand, she pulled herself up and up, relishing the moment sweat kissed her skin and the burn of the sun at her back. When she reached the high platform, she planted her feet wide and turned to survey the fleet.
There were more ships than she could count, stitching the Luminous Wake into the center of a glittering tapestry that pooled against the Net. Later, it would be dismantled, carefully and systematically, but for now, it was enough to contain it.
At first glance, the press of ships was overwhelming, but the longer she let her eyes play over their shapes, the more evidence she found of order. Her own fleet was organized in long rows extending out from the Net like blades of grass. In between those blades were Bullet ships in various states of disrepair. Crowning the whole system were the slender ships of the Hands of the River, and beyond those were the bale barges Lir had managed to slip out of the Holster.