The small girl sprinted down the wharf. She kept to the shadows, running hard, and when she was still several yards away, she threw her object into their midst.

It made no sound, but a light flashed so violently it left a blank spot in Caledonia’s sight.

“Dammit,” she grumbled, trying to blink away the residual light. “I can’t see them. Report!”

“They’re down, but—” Triple’s voice was punctuated by a single gunshot.

They were officially out of time.

“Is she hit?” Caledonia asked, an image of Nettle lying dead on the ground flashing through her mind.

“No. But Gloriana is cut off from us. She’s retreating. And Nettle is . . .”

Another gunshot.

“She’s hit.” Triple’s words were rushed. She darted away from Caledonia, racing down the gangway to help Nettle.

“Pine?” Caledonia called, frustration mounting.

“No clear line of fire,” he yelled from his position on the rear deck.

She wanted to ask how badly Nettle was hurt, if there was a chance someone else might reach them in time, but there was no time for distractions.

In the harbor, the blinking orange lights of the jetty walls were moving farther and farther apart. Beacon’s engines rumbled beneath Caledonia’s feet. Her vision cleared a little more, and now she could see that the Bullets on the wharf were still struggling with their own sight. Gloriana had vanished, and Nettle was running back toward the Beacon, struggling on her feet.

Another gunshot.

Triple sprinted straight past Nettle toward the three pursuing Bullets. She fired, striking one of the Bullets in the shoulder. Then she raised her sword.

“My glory is yours if you can defeat me!” She shouted the Bullet challenge, making herself a shield for Nettle.

Caledonia felt her heart spinning up like an engine, her blood swirling like a whirlpool.

The Bullets traded guns for blades. They grinned and howled and moved in close.

“Pine?” Caledonia called again.

“I don’t have a shot!” he shouted, anger curling through his words.

Sledge aimed for the gangway but Caledonia caught his wrist in an uncompromising grip. He met her eyes with a furious glare.

“No delays.” Her words were like knives.

Once again, Caledonia found herself in the position of having to choose between people she loved. If those Bullets knew the Beacon was getting ready to cut and run, they wouldn’t waste their time with Triple. They’d sound the alarm, and Caledonia’s situation would become much more precarious. Triple was giving them time. It was Caledonia’s job to use it.

On the ground, Triple raised her blade. The Bullets stood around her in a gleeful semicircle, their eyes alight at the prospect of taking her down.

All at once, they attacked. Metal clashed against metal as Triple held them off.

Nettle was ten yards away from the ship, her small arms pumping hard.