Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,12

the Fivesons?

CHAPTER FIVE

As they turned northward, the sky settled into a clouded steely gray and a cold breeze tipped the waves frothy white. The last time Caledonia sailed these waters it had been under the guise of a Bullet ship headed to Slipmark. This time, however, she didn’t need to hide. Though they were close to Slipmark, the northern seas belonged to her. Any Bullet would think twice before sailing this far.

Before the Battle of Cloudbreak, contacting the Hands of the River had not been possible. Not only because of their reclusive lifestyle, but because their overlapping river system was notoriously laced with traps. Ships that braved those guarded waterways were rarely seen again. Under Aric’s regime, the Hands had maintained their independence by staying deftly hidden. But the seas were changing, and Caledonia needed their help.

Amina had used all the skintech she and Hesperus could get their hands on to make the silencers they’d just exhausted taking out that barge. It had been a gamble from the start—even Amina couldn’t say if they’d perform as intended. But they’d worked. They’d worked perfectly. Taking out entire crews for the duration of a battle without killing them. If Caledonia and her crew could keep making them, they could change the face of the Bullet Seas forever. Skintech was going to change this war. By saving ships and lives, it was going to win this war. Caledonia could feel the truth of that thought buzzing beneath her skin.

But only if they could make more.

A light rain had started to fall, and it smothered the wide window of the bridge in droplets on the brink of freezing. Beyond, the sea was folding over itself in long layers of blue and gray.

“Here.” Amina spoke quietly, brown eyes trained on the misted world beyond the glass. She was wrapped in a gray slicker, her braids falling down her back to brush at her waist.

“All stop,” Caledonia said.

Amina moved to Harwell’s station and, taking the radio from his hand, brought the receiver to her mouth. She pursed her lips, hesitating before finding her resolve and drawing a deep breath. “This is Amina of Maryam Water. I bring with me friends of my life and heart. If you would hear us, we would speak.”

Replacing the receiver, Amina crossed the bridge once more.

“We won’t wait for a response?” Caledonia asked.

“If they’re going to respond,” Amina began, flipping her hood up over her head, “it’ll be out there.”

With a nod, Caledonia turned to her bridge crew. “Weigh the anchor and alert the crew to ready the ship for weather. Nettle, you’re with me. Harwell, you have the bridge.”

“I have the bridge,” Harwell repeated, shifting to take Caledonia’s usual spot in the center of the small space.

Ducking her head against the cold rain, Caledonia followed in Amina’s footsteps. Within minutes, the rain had grown from a drizzle to fat drops that stung her cheeks with cold, and she heard Nettle give a disgruntled growl. When they arrived at the rail, Pisces was there with a stack of slicker jackets in hand.

“Amina and Hime are already in the boat,” Pisces said, tipping her head toward the shape of the bow boat waiting below. Just beyond, the Blade and Piston held their position a half mile away.

“Let’s join them,” Caledonia said, swinging her legs over the slippery rail.

Nettle took the wheel with a delighted grin, revving the engine once before letting the boat dart forward. Caledonia knew just how Nettle felt. The shift from the sturdy deck of the Luminous Wake to the thin shell of the bow boat’s hull was exhilarating. As the small vessel bounced across the waves, Caledonia felt the ocean beneath her feet, catching them in its deep embrace before flinging them back up again.

The rain fell harder, streaking from the sky in heavy sheets that reduced their visibility to twenty feet or less. Amina and Hime sat pressed together, hunched behind the shallow lip of the vessel, their eyes narrowed against the slashing rain. When Caledonia had raised the possibility of coming here for skintech, Amina had resisted.

“They do not welcome outsiders,” she’d said. “They are my family, and when I left, I knew what that meant. I am in their hearts, but I have no claim to their aid. I can’t promise they’ll speak with us. I can’t even promise they’ll speak with me.”

There had been two kinds of fear in her resistance. She’d been afraid that she wouldn’t be able to give Caledonia what she