Seafire

by Natalie C. Parker

  Rhona had once said that the history of their predecessors was a living creature they’d be running from their whole lives; history was a disease they weren’t equipped to fight. She thought if they could escape its reach, they could make their own history. One that wouldn’t harm or chase or infect anyone else.

  Caledonia felt like she’d been running from her own history for four long years. But two weeks ago, she’d turned around. She was in pursuit, and with every minute they drew closer to the ship that carried their brothers. Every mile that swept along their hull was one less mile she’d have to run. Maybe it was running from the beast of history that gave it power. Maybe, just maybe, if she could win their brothers back, she’d feel like she could stop running from her past. And maybe when that was done she’d find the courage to tell her friend the truth.

  Caledonia studied Pisces’s face in the mirror before her. She sat on a low stool with her chin tipped up, all the angles of her jaw, nose, and cheeks looking harsh in the blue wash of cabin lighting. On her chest, the green seedling inside Ares’s glass charm seemed more alive than usual. Pisces waited, one eyebrow lifting when Caledonia paused for just a moment too long. Shaking away her thoughts, Caledonia wet the razor in her hand and pressed her fingers to Pisces’s throat, tipping her head back even more. Then she pulled the razor steadily across Pisces’s scalp. As the feathers of black hair scattered around them on the floor, Caledonia was struck by how similar this moment was to the first time she’d cut her friend’s hair. Those tresses had been much longer and Pisces’s expressions less bold, but it marked their loss in a way neither of them had expected. Just as this moment marked something else.

  “Will you grow it again? When we have them back?” Caledonia asked when she’d finished moving around the delicate skin of Pisces’s ear.

  Pisces pressed a few pieces of shorn hair between her fingers. Their eyes met briefly in the mirror. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” Moving on to the other side, Caledonia pulled the razor from the crown of Pisces’s head to the center, wiping the blade on the towel over her shoulder to clean it before repeating the gesture. “You loved it long.”

  “I did. But . . .” Pisces dropped the hair and looked up. “Cala, have you thought about how different they’re going to be?”

  “Of course.” Caledonia tried to sound matter-of-fact and unconcerned. “What does this have to do with your hair?”

  “Nothing really.” Pisces was quiet for a moment as she reconsidered her approach. “They won’t be the same. I don’t think there’s any way they can be.”

  “I know.” Caledonia’s response was short. But Pisces was determined to continue.

  “It’s just, we’re not the same either. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same girl I was that night on the Gem. Maybe it sounds strange, but my hair was sort of wrapped up in that girl, and I don’t think I can go back to that, even though I loved it.” She waited for Caledonia to swipe the last of her hair from her head, then turned in her seat. “And we won’t be able to make them who they were either.”

  The metal in her hand felt hot. In spite of the frost blooming on the round porthole, the room was suddenly too warm. She forced herself to answer calmly. “I know they’ll be different. But they’ll come back to us. I know they will. You said yourself, if Oran can change, so can they.”

  “I know.” Pisces stood and took the razor from Caledonia’s hand. “We just have to be ready to let them discover who they want to be when given the chance.”

  Perhaps Pisces’s caution was prescient. Caledonia hated to think what four long years had done to Donnally’s gentle nature. And what if Ares didn’t want to come back to them at all? It was too terrible a thought to voice. She didn’t want to burden Pisces with the same grim thoughts that haunted her, so instead she smiled and said, “After we force them off that ship and through detox, of course.”

  “Of course,” Pisces answered, cheered. “Force first. Choice later.”

  It was an uneasy thought, but there was no other way. When they found their brothers, they’d be indoctrinated and drugged. While it was tempting to imagine winning them back would be easy, recovering their minds could prove to be even more challenging than saving them in the first place. Caledonia tried to brace herself for both options, but in her heart she knew it was more likely to be the latter.

  If it had been her, if she’d been the one stolen from the ship and forced into a violent way of life, she wasn’t sure she’d have survived. But she’d never tasted Silt. And there was no way to know how that one thing might have changed her.

  “It’s just,” Pisces said, catching Caledonia before they parted ways in the hall. “It’s just that I’m worried. And you don’t seem worried.”

  “I am,” Caledonia admitted. She imagined herself like the mirror on the wall, a single crack splitting her face in two before melting together once more. “But not about them.”

  For two days, the Mors Navis traveled steadily north, pausing only in the thick of night to reserve power and let the engines rest. The storm had stolen nearly a full day and night from them, and now they raced to reach the Northwater ahead of the Electra.

  The air gathered a constant chill, and the waters were full of bite. None of them was used to this kind of cold, and soon they’d raided their stores for every sweater, wool coat, and set of gloves they could find. They had enough for nearly everyone. And the remainder set to work in the galley stitching warmth together from various pieces of clothing and unused blankets.

  Pisces, stubborn, anxious, and probably dying a little from being so long above the surface, used their midnight stops to get herself back in the water. Redtooth stood watch with her new friend Oran by her side. Caledonia could never tell which of them was more ready to leap in after Pisces at the first sign of distress. Even covered in the thickest wetsuit they had on ship, Pisces emerged with a purple tinge to her lips and clattering teeth beneath a strangely refreshed smile.

  When a blue-gray coast appeared in the north, it was midday on their second full day since the storm. The land tumbled toward the ocean like pebbles tossed down a hill. Uneven ridges climbed sweeping valleys lined with the smallest racing rivers. The shoreline was jagged and temperamental, sometimes curving smoothly along and sometimes diving sharply in or outward. It created coves and peninsulas of all sizes, perfect hiding places for a ship to lie in wait.

  The colonies were a scattering of towns and villages across the area. Given how frequently the land shifted, they were known to move. Once, they’d done so aggressively, always seeking to outsmart Aric’s men. Now when they abandoned one site and chose another, they were required to report the location or risk egregious consequences. Like everyone else in and around the Bullet Seas, they were a subdued people, and once a year they were stripped of many of their children.

  At the helm, Nettle kept a good distance from the shore and drove forward at an even pace. Caledonia’s conversation with the girl had been easy enough. She’d already proven herself capable and had asked for the responsibility, and Caledonia was ready to give it to her. Nettle was no longer on probation but their Helm Girl.

  Her conversation with Tin, however, landed hard. It was Caledonia’s fault. Instead of moving forward and assigning Lace’s work to other girls, she’d let Tin try to fill her myriad roles for far too long. And while she was well suited to one, letting her try to do both was rough on her and the crew. Tin had blinked hard when Caledonia made her Operations. “Just Operations?” She’d asked, her blue eyes narrowing. “And you’re making the stowaway Helm?”

  “Yes,” Caledonia had responded without flinching. “Nettle is Helm. You are Operations. I need you in your best element, clear?”

  To Tin, this was a stripping of her power, and it showed in the clench of her jaw. “Clear,” she answered darkly. Then she balled her fists and rallied. It was the kind of gesture Caledonia had come to a
ssociate with her whole crew. They were grit and determination, a kind of raw battle cry born of the extraordinary tangle of despair and desire they were built from. And when they finally found the Electra, it was that cry that would win their brothers.

  But knowing where the colonies were likely to be wasn’t enough. They needed a location and it needed to be specific. It took several hours for Oran to get his bearings. He sat on the command deck with Caledonia, wrapped in a coat of burnished red wool, shoulders hunched against the wind. Beside him was a cup of cold teaco and an empty plate, and he alternated between peering through binoculars and making notations on a small piece of paper. Finally satisfied, he relinquished the binoculars to Caledonia.

  “There’s a cove just around that bend. That’s the farthest colony. Where Electra will start gathering.”

  Caledonia lifted the binoculars to her eyes and focused on the protrusion of land. “You’re sure?”

  “As sure as I can be.” The wind pushed through his hair, whipping it across his eyes and ears. “But I haven’t been a Fiveson in months. And they don’t tell Bullets much at all. Things might have changed. I doubt it, but it’s possible.”

  It had been nearly three weeks since Oran told her about this run, since they’d brought him aboard. If he’d said something like this back then, she’d have dismissed it offhand, suspected him of leading her off course. Today, none of that doubt colored her thoughts. If he was right, they had only a day before the Electra came into view. Alternatively, it might already be anchored around the next bend, raiding the colony for children.

  “Understood. Nettle! Get us into this cove,” Caledonia called, climbing to her feet and gesturing to the one next to Oran’s mark. The ship rumbled immediately, and Caledonia turned her steps toward the main deck. “Red! Get ready!”

  Redtooth whistled to her team in response, and the crew sprang to action.

  Leaving the deck, Caledonia raced down the companionway ladder, ducking to avoid the pipes. She hurried through the corridors to level three, where Amina and Hime were locked away in the room they’d claimed as their lab. It was directly beneath the bridge and forward from the cargo bay, a room the size of several bunkrooms combined, with lockers and secured cubbies along the walls that were perfect for cataloging and storing tech. Most of which was now spread across the floor. There were wires and panels and charges of every shape and size. The walls were covered in drawings, each held in place with magnets, some of which were as large as the paper they held.

  It looked like chaos to Caledonia, but the two girls fit neatly into the metal tapestry around them. They found what they needed instantly, parts and pieces passing between their hands as naturally as if they shared a meal. If Caledonia watched them instead of focusing on the mess around them, the pattern of chaos suddenly looked like a logical dance. It was beautiful. It was exciting.

  “Amina. Tell me we’re ready.”

  She didn’t answer right away. She stood, crossing to the opposite side of her work with long, careful steps. Her braids had been collected into a single larger braid down her back and tied off with a familiar blue ribbon, and her brown cheek was smudged with black grease.

  Hime crouched off to the side, her apron puddling on the floor at her feet, hands resting atop her knees. Each of her fingers bore some sign of the work they’d been doing, pricked or sliced or peeling.

  After a moment, Amina looked up. “We’re ready.”

  Ready. They were ready. They were in the right place. They had the right weapon. Now all they needed was a target.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Caledonia crouched in the front of the bow boat, her eyes pinned to the rocky outline between them and the cove. She felt certain that just behind that bend, the Electra spliced through water. She felt it like a vibration in the ocean, and her blood reached for the fight.

  In order to run silently, the bow boat had to run slowly, and in order to scout unseen, they’d have to moor the boat and hike over the hill on foot for the best vantage point. Redtooth sat at the tiller, guiding them smoothly toward the shore, and Oran sat in the middle, feet braced against the gentle bounce of the boat. A small team, but the work ahead didn’t require anything more.

  Under normal circumstances, Redtooth would have taken her usual team to scout for the Electra. As it was, Caledonia wanted Oran’s eyes on the ship before they moved in to attack, and where Oran went, she also went.

  The shore was braided with driftwood in all directions creating a barrier between them and the hill beyond. Redtooth nudged them as close as they could get, but there was no getting to shore without also getting wet. One after another, they leapt over the side of the boat, the bracing water reaching above their knees.

  Redtooth released a strangled curse. “Now I know Pi is part fish. How the hell does she do this? No, I take that back. I want to know why she does this.”

  “Peace of mind,” Caledonia answered, grateful for the distraction from her freezing flesh.

  “That girl has a strange notion of peace,” Oran added, joining Caledonia at the back of the boat where they could push while Redtooth pulled from the prow.

  They maneuvered the boat over the bleached stacks of wood to the beach, and soon it was secure enough to leave behind.

  The three of them squeezed frigid water from their clothes, pulled their jackets tighter, and began to pick their way up the steep hillside. The ground was peppered with rocks covered in a slick moss, making the climb a challenging one. They slipped and scrabbled over the uneven surface, winning fresh bruises on their knees and shins. By the time they reached the top, they’d all broken a sweat and were breathing hard.

  They moved quickly, settling behind a crop of boulders, which offered mild protection from the cold wind and a good view of the water.

  The cove on the other side of the hill was much like the one they’d come from, only this one was empty. Caledonia felt dread sink through her stomach. What if Oran was wrong? What if this was the wrong cove? But then Oran pointed.

  “There!” he said.

  Smoke rose in hazy streams from the trees a half mile inland. The colonists were near, anticipating the same ship they now waited for.

  “Maybe they won’t lose their children today,” Caledonia said.

  “It won’t stop them.” Oran turned on his back, shoulders braced against the cold stone. “They’ll lose their children one way or another.”

  This was the way of the world. It had been the way of it for Caledonia’s entire life, but hearing it now dug a trench of sadness she hadn’t expected. She turned her eyes to the trails of smoke and imagined families gathered around each one, holding their boys and girls close for the very last time.

  “What would it take to stop him?” Redtooth surprised Caledonia with her question. “You were a Bullet. Not good for much, if you ask me, but you must have some idea.”

  Oran almost smiled. “Destroying the AgriFleet is a good tactic, honestly, but you’ll never do it on your own.”

  “How many ships do we need? Five? Ten?” Redtooth pressed, her mind fully engaged.

  “A fleet,” Oran answered, somber. “You need a fleet.”

  Redtooth slumped, scowling at Caledonia for a long minute.

  “Red,” Caledonia said when that minute went too long. “Speak or avert your frown.”

  “You need a fleet,” Redtooth said matter-of-factly. “If anyone can command a fleet, it’s you.”

  “You’re dreaming.” Caledonia turned her eyes back to the mouth of the cove. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t dream, but maybe set your sights somewhere more reasonable.”

  “You mean somewhere like taking down a ship with an electrified hull?” Redtooth nodded. “Good advice.”

  Caledonia scowled.

  “She’s right,” Oran said from beside her. “If anyone could lead a fleet, it’s you.”

  In s
pite of the cold, Caledonia felt a small warmth bloom in her chest.

  Redtooth groaned. “Things have gone very wrong when a Bullet agrees with you. Quick, say something terrible. Shouldn’t be hard. Just open your mouth.”

  “Red, you’re faithful and strong, and if I die tomorrow, I hope you remember I considered you a friend,” Oran said brightly.

  “If you don’t die tomorrow, just find me the next day,” Redtooth responded, but she didn’t even try to smother her smile this time. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Oran offered some response, but Caledonia didn’t hear the words.

  Her gaze moved as though drawn to a point on the ocean. The wind that stung her cheeks suddenly filled with an electric hum. She felt it in her skin, tasted it on her tongue. And in the next moment, she appeared.

  The Electra sailed around the peninsula like a harpoon. Blue-white lightning crackled along her hull where the ship met the ocean. It sizzled and snapped, flashing unnaturally bright in defiance of the daylight. There was no ghost funnel mounted on her bow. Instead, an old holo projected orange numbers into the dimming sky. A countdown to the moment they would come ashore and take the colonists’ children.

  The ship was a nightmare coming to call. And it was the cage that held Donnally and Ares prisoner.

  “She’s here,” Caledonia said, raising the telescope with numb fingers. “And she’s alone.”

  The sun was falling behind them as the Electra turned toward the colonist fires on the beach. She was just as Oran had described—a hefty belly and short command tower, broad and slow. They watched her move slowly into the center of the cove and weigh anchor there. It was too late for them to begin their work of retrieving their conscripts. For that, they would wait until first light. So Caledonia would move even sooner.