The engines roared and they flew, propelled both by their own power and the power of the whirl. Faster and faster, they climbed to speeds this ship wasn’t capable of on its own. The ship bit more deeply into the ridged water. And for a moment, the sea dragged at the open gash in their side, trying to pull them sideways into the center of the whirl. But Caledonia held firm.

She kept their nose aligned with the rushing water as she read every ripple and ridge and—there!—a smooth sash of water cutting toward the center of the whirl.

Caledonia aimed directly for it, letting the ship travel at an angle. While their propellers drove from behind, the water hammered against their broadside, pushing them sideways even as they traveled forward. She felt the ship bucking, stuttering as it struggled to resist its own heavy belly and the drain of the whirl.

Sweat slipped between her shoulder blades, her jaw clenched tight. She could sense the eyes in the room moving between her and the whirl. There was Sledge and Oran, Nettle and Harwell, and Pisces standing nearest of all. Each of them held tight to their trust in her, and she, in turn, held the other end of that same trust, letting it tether her in the midst of so much chaos.

The ship dipped ever lower, listing harder and harder toward its wounded side. Caledonia held the wheel steady. The edge of the whirl was visible now. She could see the place where the current transitioned to smooth, flat waters.

But they were slowing down, tipping even farther to starboard.

“Kill the engines, Nettle.”

Caledonia had no choice but to steer back into the whirl, letting the banded currents sweep them around the wide circle, ever closer to that perilous center. Though still listing, the ship regained some of its balance. They needed speed.

“When we come back around, drive the engines up.” Caledonia didn’t dare take her eyes off the roiling plane before her. If she missed a single shift, they could find themselves careering toward the center once more.

Her shoulders bunched tight, her palms began to sweat, and her arms trembled. Doubt crept in around the edges of her focus. What if this didn’t work?

A slender hand pressed against her shoulder blade. “You have us, Captain,” Pisces soothed.

The simple gesture was charged with energy. Caledonia felt her muscles settle, and the instant that sash of smooth water came into view once more, she ordered the engines to full.

With one final burst of power, they broke away from the whirl, limping out like a beached whale. Far across the whirl, Fiveson Venn’s ships were small shapes against a tired afternoon sky. If they pursued, they would have to sail around the whirl, giving Caledonia an even bigger lead than she already had.

“Engines are struggling, Captain,” Harwell warned.