Caledonia narrowed her eyes against the wind and swept her gaze along the horizon. They’d been en route to the Braids to meet with the Hands of the River when her scouts unexpectedly spotted an AgriFleet barge just south of their location. They’d changed their plans, radioed to Cloudbreak for additional support, and held position until Silver Fleet arrived.

“Sledge was right,” Pisces added. “Looks like Fiveson Decker’s fleet is escorting them. Ships are all marked with green.”

Caledonia smiled hungrily. She’d been waiting for an opportunity like this for moons. Aric’s death had ripped through the Bullet Seas like an electric current, igniting small pockets of rebellion from the Colonies to Slipmark. In response, Lir had recalled nearly all his ships to the Holster, which he’d claimed as his seat of power like Aric before him. The infamous city was entrenched in the southern peninsula, protected by a devastating crown of gun towers. But well-fortified as he was, he still had to provide food and Silt for his Bullets, and that meant eventually the AgriFleet barges had to sail. Barges that Caledonia could steal or destroy.

“Silver Fleet is on standby?” Caledonia asked.

“Holding back and awaiting our signal,” Pisces confirmed.

The first blush of orange blossoms appeared against the brilliant blue sky as the towering barge came into view. Caledonia felt an answering spike of adrenaline in her blood. The barge stretched a quarter mile in each direction, its long platform deck covered in baleflowers reaching for the morning sun with their mouths open wide like baby birds.

Caledonia turned to Pisces. “Looks like trouble,” she said, invoking the words their fallen friend Redtooth had said so often. “Trouble” was code for a fight, for an opportunity, for a chance to strike back instead of turn tail and run.

One side of Pisces’s mouth tipped up at the memory of their friend. “There’ll be more on the other side,” she warned.

“I hope so,” Caledonia said, offering her sister a mischievous smile before sliding down the ladder to the command deck. “Drive us in, Nettle!” Caledonia called, striding onto the bridge. “Harwell, alert the Blade and Piston that we’re sailing for gold.”

Harwell’s voice rose softly from his station at the radio. It had taken some convincing for Caledonia to go along with using the thing, but it turned out coordinating with ships was a lot easier if you could just talk to them. The Blades had set up a system that allowed them to communicate on open frequencies without broadcasting their plans to their targets. “Gold” was code for driving in together and hitting the target like a spear.

“Amina’s silencers are ready for a test run, Captain,” Pisces reported from the hatchway. “As long as Nettle can get us close enough to launch them.”