“Everyone’s off level three,” Pisces reported. The edge in her voice conveyed that the damage was tremendous, but no lives had been lost. “We’ve sealed off the forward quarter. Still working on the breach.”

The ship was still taking on water. It would make them bottom heavy, front heavy, and even more difficult to maneuver in the rough waters ahead. But there was nothing to be done about it.

It was up to Caledonia now.

After another long minute, the pushing stopped. The crusher reversed so suddenly that both ships jerked as it released its bruised prey and screamed in the other direction to avoid the vortex.

The Beacon twisted, pulling itself upright and sweeping along as the ocean willed it. Caledonia held the wheel with a careful hand as she studied the current now controlling her ship.

The water will tell you where it’s been and where it’s going, her mother had said. If you know how to speak its language, you will always know what to do.

Ridges of water swirled in long arcs toward the center of the pool, where the water tucked down as though someone stood beneath the surface and tugged. Not a single current, but two, traveling in opposite directions alongside each other, forcing the water to bend and pull in this pattern.

As fascinated as Caledonia was, she had no time to consider it. The ship listed hard to starboard, spinning as the stern was snatched by the opposing current. From one breath to the next, the ship was in a spin. Their nose swung wildly around, and they pitched steeply from port back to starboard.

Caledonia could feel the sluggish climb of her ship as the water trapped on level three weighed them down. The starboard side dipped perilously low, allowing water to slosh over the gash into level two. Every single drop they took on made them heavier, less buoyant.

The bridge was silent. Her crew standing at the ready to complete any order she might give. But there was none. Not until she found her opening.

The spinning slowed, but did not stop. They rocked and spun and rocked and spun until it felt as though her own belly had been transformed into a whirl like the one on which they sailed.

She felt her internal balance adjusting to their new heft, forced herself to keep her breath even and slow, to match the new rhythm of the current around them. And as the ship spun around once more, she steered directly into the opposing current. The spinning stopped.

“Oh, thank you, Captain.” Harwell’s voice was green.

“Don’t vomit in my bridge, Harwell,” was Caledonia’s only response.

She kept her eyes on the sea road ahead, her hands firm on the wheel.

“Nettle, I need those engines again.”

“Yes, Captain.”