Amina would have known exactly what to do. She would have come to her with the problem and a plan, and they’d have been underway again in no time. Amina and her beautiful mind were made for this kind of problem, and she might never see her again.

Caledonia felt the edges of her nerves beginning to curl like a paper held too close to a flame. Panic would do her no good. Her crew was strong, brave, and together. Whatever they were facing in this moment, they could handle it until she reached them. They had to.

It was a small comfort, but Caledonia’s mind cooled, and she cast her eyes over the deck of the Beacon where the crew of Blades waited for instruction. From her, she realized. They were all watching her. While she recognized all of their faces, had learned each of their names, it was still shocking to see how much they looked like a clip of Bullets on this ship. It was no wonder they’d been attacked. How was anyone to know the difference?

How was anyone to know the difference!

“Harwell, begin repairs, but only do what is absolutely essential. I want us to look more injured than we are. Can you do that?”

Harwell nodded.

“Sledge.” Caledonia spun on her heel to find Sledge waiting there, quietly supporting her from behind. “How do you feel about impersonating a Bullet?”

The mountain raised an eyebrow before answering carefully, “I suppose I thought it was inevitable.”

Three minutes later, Caledonia stood in the bridge with Sledge, Triple, and Pine. Sledge’s hand was on the radio, his eyes locked on the dash.

“If this works,” he began, not lifting his eyes from the controls before him, “we’ll have to do a lot more than just sound like a Bullet clip. You’re sure this is the way you want to go?”

It was a lot to ask, but Caledonia was certain. “It’s our best option,” she confirmed.

Triple nodded in agreement, and so did Pine.

Without another question, Sledge lifted the receiver. “Slipmark harbor, this is Beacon, come back.” He paused, giving them time to respond, and after several seconds had passed, he repeated his call.

They answered on the third try: “We read you, Beacon, go ahead.”

Sledge cleared his throat and straightened his spine. “We’ve encountered a rogue ship and taken heavy damage. We’re unable to repair on our own. Requesting a tow, over.”

“What’s the status of the rogue ship, over?”

Sledge grimaced and delivered the lie. “Unknown. Damaged, but sailing. They fled south.”