Bitterly, Caledonia realized that their world had been reduced to a single ship. The damage report Tin would offer would not include all of Cloudbreak, nor would it account for all the lives that had been ruthlessly ripped away in an instant.

“Continue,” she said.

“Our injuries are more structural than mechanical. We can sail as long as we’re careful about it, but there are two sections of the forward hull that we’ll need to patch sooner rather than later.”

“Can we get free of the canals?” Caledonia asked, and when Tin nodded, she added, “Good, tell Harwell to plot the course out of here and get us moving.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Pine!” Caledonia spotted him along the port rail, reloading and replacing the guns snapped beneath. He turned at the sound of her voice. “Keep our gunners ready. There may be more surprises waiting for us before we’re free.”

Pine gave a smart nod and returned to his task as the ship nosed through the narrow canals. The night air was cool and brisk, the canals close and dark and quiet, wrapping them into a false sense of security. Caledonia walked the deck, murmuring words of encouragement to her crew as she passed. These were dangerous moments: when the raging storm of battle broke and bodies yearned for rest. Only when the far western walls of the canals appeared before them did Caledonia call for an all stop, giving the repair teams one hour to accomplish their work.

Early ribbons of sunlight pushed across the domed sky, sweeping darkness along until the canals were filled with a hazy, ethereal kind of light. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, and the repair teams rappelled down the hull of the ship with metaltech plates and welding masks.

Now you, Hime signed, her fingers pointing firmly at Caledonia in a way that brooked no argument from her captain. You’ve been limping since you came aboard and you’ve bled all over the ship. If you don’t care about your wounds, care about the mess.

With light fingers, Hime investigated the gash on Caledonia’s temple, then cleaned it and applied a small patch of skintech. It warmed immediately, its nanotech knitting her skin back together with brutal precision. Caledonia winced, but did not complain.

“Didn’t think we had any of that stuff left,” she said, distracting herself from the strange sensation.

Only small stuff, Hime answered. Amina—

She stopped abruptly and Caledonia felt a shock of panic, pain, sorrow shoot through her lungs at the reminder of their missing friend.

“Not up to the task of the silencers,” she finished, steering them out of those sticky waters.

Are you dizzy? Hime asked, blinking rapidly. How many fingers do you see?

“Three,” Caledonia answered dutifully. “And I’m not dizzy, just nauseated.”