Open water stretched before them, blue and wide, sunlight glittering on the waves. All across the harbor, clipper ships were readying their sails, preparing to flee. Some were already moving, their white sails billowing, filling with wind. She watched as one of ships rose on its hydrofoils and cut across the waters for the high seas.

It was beautiful, like a gull breaking into flight.

“Now what?” Ocho asked.

Mahlia scanned her choices. Pointed. “That one.”

It was rich. Sleek and fast. A shining white hull and sails that were only now unfurling. A wealthy blood buyer, glutted on scavenge and now escaping as the violence once again overcame the city.

“You sure?” Ocho asked.

“They’re just like the people my mom used to trade with.”

Ocho gave the order, and their raft angled across the waves, chasing for Mahlia’s chosen destination. She stared up at the gleaming ship as they approached, remembering how she’d stood on the Potomac docks years before, begging and desperate for the peacekeeper ships to return.

You’re not begging this time, she thought. You’re buying.

“Is this going to work?” Ocho whispered as they closed on the clipper ship.

“Yeah, it’ll work. Put up that old flag. The one with the stars in a circle, and the red and white stripes.”

“That old burned thing?”

“Yeah. That’ll get their attention. They’ll want it, for sure.”

Their zodiac hurtled across the waves, flying its ragged banner. Sure enough, the clipper ship’s sails that had been unfurling halted, and started rolling themselves back up.

Mahlia could see people on deck, looking down on them with binoculars. Watching them. They’d want what she had to sell. Her heart beat faster. It was going to work. It was really going to work.

“Keep your guns down, boys,” Ocho said. “Try to smile and look friendly.”

Mahlia almost laughed at that. Ocho seemed to catch her humor, but his smile faded, almost as soon as it showed.

“You think they’ll take us? Really?”

“They already are.”

“No. I mean…” He touched his cheek and his brand. “They’ll know what we did, right? They’ll know what we are.”

Mahlia looked at him, and once again, saw that other part of him. The part that was other than a soldier. Some part of whatever the sergeant had been, before the Drowned Cities had swallowed him up. The scared kid who’d been beaten and whipped and shoved around so long he’d almost lost every bit of his humanity. He was right there. A whole other person, trying to believe.