Ahead the space between the jetty walls grew increasingly narrow. In less than a minute, it would be shut. The crew waited on the edge of panic, their eyes measuring the distance between themselves and freedom. Caledonia let the walls close a fraction more, then it was time.

“Engines to full!” Caledonia commanded.

Their engines strained against the force of the mag ship’s magnetized harpoons, yearning toward the jetty walls. Behind them, three more Bullet ships moderated their speed, thinking the Beacon was thoroughly snared.

Caledonia grinned. And just before the jetty walls closed, she shouted. “Now, Harwell!”

The ship pulsed. Water snapped away from the hull in sharp ripples, and all six magoons slipped from the hull, demagnetized.

The Beacon surged ahead, nearly hopping as the propellers churned at full speed. They were fifty yards away before the buzzers managed to swing their noses around and climb back to speed. It wasn’t much of a lead, but it would be enough.

Nettle didn’t need an ounce of direction. She aimed at the narrowing channel between the walls and held steady.

No one breathed. All eyes were pinned on those closing arms.

Beside Caledonia, Sledge dropped a curse that would have made Redtooth proud. “We’re not going to make it.”

But Caledonia knew better.

They charged into the channel with only feet to spare on either side, and just as they soared out again, the arms pinched against the hull, igniting a tail of sparks in their wake.

The walls closed behind them, locking all pursuing ships inside. For the moment, they were free. Caledonia hit the remote. Two seconds passed, then an explosion shattered the southern jetty tower, disabling the arm.

The crew turned their attention to the northern jetty tower, but after five more seconds, it was clear that the explosion had failed. There was no time to dwell on it.

“Take me to my crew!” Caledonia cried.

Chapter Twenty-six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The tide cans hovered against the night sky like rusted demons risen from the depths of the ocean. On top of three, orange flags fluttered.

“Nettle, get us in close!” Caledonia called. “Pine, I need those steel punchers!”

“Captain!” Shale called from the bow. “Middle can! They’re already free!”

Lights flared on deck and turned on the middle of the five cans. There, perched atop the structure, were at least a dozen girls. They huddled together, climbing to their feet and shielding their eyes against the light. Caledonia saw them—Neece, Britta, Pippa, Wen, Amina—drenched and shivering but alive and whole.

Someone had released them. She scanned each of the other cans and found a shadowed figure clinging to the side of another. Shirtless, covered in wounds, and working at the hatch.

“Oran!” she shouted. The boy’s head snapped around, spotting her at once. “Move away from the hatch!”