Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,80

against the floor.

It was over in a second. She blinked. Smoke crowded her vision. Nettle’s multicolored ribbons tickled her cheek. All she could smell was the tang of burning metal, of ignited gunpowder, of singed flesh. Her ears rang, but beyond that piercing sound, she could hear her crew shouting, recovering, getting back to their feet. Somewhere in the distance, there was pain.

Nettle squirmed beneath her, urging Caledonia to her feet. Smoke coiled from a crater in the bow. Already, the crew was directing hoses into the wound, smothering the fires with seawater. High on the hill, one gun tower swiveled its eye, taking aim at the tower that had just fired on the Luminous Wake. They fired, a single perfect shot, and demolished the tower.

“That’s definitely Pine,” Caledonia said, offering a grim smile to Nettle. “Are you well?”

“Well enough, Captain,” Nettle confirmed as she reached for the wheel.

Now all three remaining gun towers belonged to Caledonia, and the battle was swinging swiftly in her favor. She left the bridge, surveying the damage on her bow and starboard side. The crew was in no better shape than the ship. Hime crouched next to a prone figure on the deck, her hands flashing red in the sunlight as she worked to save a life. Everywhere Caledonia looked her crew was bloodied, but still fighting.

Pisces hauled herself up the companionway ladder. Her sunny brown skin was streaked with ash and blood. “Flanking ships are breaking off, Captain,” she reported.

Caledonia turned her gaze to the west, where Lir’s ships did exactly as Pisces said: they were leaving, retreating, running.

“Then I think it’s time we find the sick fish himself.”

Pisces followed Caledonia back to the bridge, where Harwell opened a channel and released his station to his captain. With only a second to fully appreciate what she was about to do, Caledonia brought the receiver to her mouth and pressed the button.

“This is Caledonia Styx of the Luminous Wake.” She paused, knowing just that would be enough to pique his interest.

As the first of Caledonia’s ships sailed into the harbor, her gun towers fired ruthlessly. They concentrated on the harbor, forcing Bullet ships to flee toward the breakers.

Caledonia watched as Lir’s fleet lost all semblance of cohesion, as they transitioned from order to chaos, with many retreating, and she felt the first stirrings of victory within her reach.

And then the radio crackled to life.

“Caledonia.” Lir’s voice slid across her skin like ice.

She wanted to tell him not to say her name. She hated the way he softened the sound of the “c” in the back of his throat, how he lingered through the length of it as though tasting each subsequent letter. He said it fondly, she thought, like a lover might.

“Lir,” she said, resisting the urge to give him anything more than her voice. “I’m offering you a chance to surrender.”

“Surrender?” True surprise brightened his response. “Oh, I don’t think now is the time for something as final as that.”

“I have your gun towers, Lir. Your fleet has lost confidence in you. In another minute I will have the harbor and the town. The Holster will be mine and you will be dead. Unless you surrender now.”

“Will you destroy my entire fleet?” he asked. “Will you gun down every last Bullet you see here? Kill us all?”

Caledonia hesitated. No unnecessary deaths. That was how they’d started this. But was it possible to finish that way? She’d already used the star blossoms. What ground could she stand on after that?

“I don’t think you have it in you,” Lir continued in his self-satisfied way. “And until you do, I will always win.”

Before she could respond, the Bullet ships still in the harbor turned their guns on their own town and opened fire on the Holster.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Explosions bloomed over the city.

“He’s firing on the Holster! Wait. Why is he firing on the Holster?” Harwell asked.

Caledonia had no answer for him.

Flames rose from inside the city. Alarms sounded, and even from this distance the chaos within those streets was palpable. Caledonia recalled what Oran had said about the inhabitants; there were children and elderly inside that city. And now they were dying.

The only thing she could do for them was drive Lir’s forces from the harbor.

“Send word through the fleet. I want as many of my ships charging the breakers as possible.”

“Yes, Captain,” Harwell chirped, taking the receiver from her hand.

“Captain!” Oran stepped onto the bridge. Fresh blood smeared his right hand. “There’s something you need to