“Right. Captain didn’t want to take a big spoiled princess onto her crew, but then Chuck got in the engine room. No more doubt after that.”

“You were there?” I ask as Code ducks into an opening and lands a flurry of punches. Chuck staggers backward, then swings with a vicious uppercut that grazes his chin.

Swift nods. “Chuck was the last of us. Lemon came a year before. Captain picked her up from an Aleutian colony after she heard the local gossip about a girl who could speak the ocean’s language.”

Before I can confirm that Lemon speaks something, a burst of action on the mats draws every eye in the Slew. Code’s made a misstep, Chuck lunges, and a hiss rises from the crowd.

Her fist drives into his temple.

The cheers that echo through the hold swallow the sound he makes when he hits the mat. Varma throws his hands in the air, and up on the crates, Santa Elena leans forward. “That’ll do,” she thunders.

Chuck steps back, running her hands through her hair as a grin cracks over her face. My lips curve involuntarily, and pride flushes through my body as Varma rushes to her side. I can’t resist it. The celebration sweeps me in, and I find myself trailing in Swift’s wake as she hops up on the mats to congratulate Chuck.

But then Code is crawling to his feet, his eyes narrowed, his face flushed, and the first words out of his mouth are “I’m not finished.” He fixes Swift with his pale stare and lifts his chin. “You. Knives this time.”

Swift freezes, her gaze flicking up for the captain’s approval.

Santa Elena nods back.

One of the crew members on the sidelines tosses two rubber training daggers to Code, who offers one to Swift blade-first. She takes it with a scowl, flipping it over once and catching it by the hilt. “You sure?” she asks, and no one in the Slew misses the way she hesitates before bringing her knife up.

“I’m just getting started,” he snarls. “Clear the mats.”

I follow Varma and Chuck back to our corner, where Lemon is still lurking. Under the lights, Code and Swift circle each other, the tips of their blades dancing back and forth. He makes the first move.

A good fight is mostly waiting.

This isn’t a good fight.

Code comes at her with an animal’s voracity, his knife plunging straight for her throat. She catches his wrist and twists, but he flows with the movement, bringing his elbow down hard on her sternum. Swift chokes out a gasp, staggering back, but Code keeps coming even as she raises her blade and slaps it hard across his forearm. He doesn’t slow.