The guard was a few paces beyond her. At the sound of her feet on the deck, he turned. But she had the advantage. She rushed him, delivering a pristine blow to his jaw before he could call out. He was too slow, too surprised to counter her next attack. A jab to the throat followed by a kick to his knee, bringing him low enough that she could deliver the blow that would render him unconscious. It was a sequence she’d learned from Redtooth, and using it now felt as much like a prayer as anything Caledonia ever did.

Working quickly, she shifted the grappling hook to the widest possible entry point, securing it in place before whistling to Pine. The rope snapped taut under the weight of a body, and Caledonia lugged the unconscious guard into the shadow of the command tower, stealing his weapons and surveying the deck for any other signs of danger.

One by one, the Blades appeared over the edge of the railing, maneuvering carefully over the spikes. Sledge and his team would be through the propeller shaft by now, gaining access in the most dangerous way possible. If the Ballistic of this ship decided to spin up the engines and set sail, Sledge’s team would be slashed to ribbons. Silence was their best indication that Sledge’s team was alive and on target.

The plan was coming together. The last of Caledonia’s team landed quietly on the deck and joined them against the wall. They were fists clenched around knife hilts, eyes that snagged on every movement, and nerves like scattered marbles. It had been so long since they’d engaged in any kind of fight. For most of them, they’d never done so without the heightening effect of Silt, and the nearness of battle was plain in their eyes. Caledonia met them with her own calm gaze, forcing them to see her, to feel the ship beneath their feet, and to sink into this moment.

It was time for Triple. Caledonia took the sun pip from Pine and held it aloft, facing the cliff. She flashed the little light three times, paused, then three more.

Now they waited.

The night pressed close around them, gripping them in a cold breeze. It carried with it the smoky scent of the colonists’ fires, burning where they couldn’t be seen from shore.

After a few minutes, Pine nudged Caledonia. A spark had started out on the water, catching slowly at first, then climbing up the catboat’s sail until the entire length of it was engulfed.

For just a second, there was no reaction. Then a cry of alarm from the tower echoed throughout the ship. Bullets raced from belowdecks, each of them turning toward the sight of the burning boat.

Caledonia smiled, lifting a hand to hold her team steady. And when twenty Bullets stood with their faces held toward the flames and backs unguarded, she gave the signal.