Level two was unrecognizable. The crusher had pierced the wall of the kitchen, driving straight into the mess. Steel curled viciously toward the interior of the ship, destroying the pantry, stoves, sinks—everything required to feed a crew of seventy-five. The ground was littered with fallen chairs and tufts of green vegetables. It was hard to imagine anyone had survived, especially if they’d been in the kitchen at the time.

A breeze laced with smoke and the promise of rain drifted through the gash beyond, which the sky was darkening with clouds. Caledonia caught it all in a flash. Whatever they were going to do, they needed to work quickly.

“Make a hole!” Pine barked, as they passed out of the open galley and dove down the narrow stairwell to level three.

They landed with a splash. Several inches of water covered the floor in all directions, and there was a rushing sound that seemed to emanate from the walls.

Every ship was compartmentalized for just this reason. Small breaches might be stopped early, but large breaches—fast breaches— could sink a ship in an instant if you didn’t patch them or seal the chamber. The water rushing past Caledonia’s ankles told her neither had happened yet.

Voices sounded from directly ahead. Pine led them into a room on the starboard side where the crew was madly shifting equipment away from the wall and sealing off the adjoining chambers. Water poured through splits in the hull where the metal was frayed like fabric.

Caledonia’s gut pitched.

If this were any other room, they’d have closed it off and left it to fill while they protected the rest of the ship. But this was the desal room. Everything in this space was dedicated to purifying seawater for drinking, bathing, and cooking. Without it, they’d have what remained in the tanks, and then they’d have nothing.

Sledge and Pine leaned toward the wound in the hull, their muscles straining as they attempted to slide a metal sheet toward the hole. There were sheets like this one all over the ship. They rested flat against the walls and when needed could be shifted one direction or another to cover a breach. But this one wasn’t moving. And the water was rising.

Water lapped at Caledonia’s shins, seeping up the fabric of her pants. Sledge and Pine were still pushing at that stubborn metal sheet. Water crashed violently around them, proving that the strength of the ocean was effortless and terrible. It was very clear to Caledonia: they were not going to save this room. All that remained was saving as much of this level as possible.

“Everyone out!” Caledonia pitched her voice to be heard above the roar. “Move!”

Everyone moved toward the hatch except Sledge. He stayed put, smacking a fist against the plate with a growl before yanking at the handles once more.

“Now, Sledge!” she shouted.