Steel Tide, page 18
part #2 of Seafire Series
“And I do?”
Pisces was silent for a moment, her eyes dropping briefly to the floor. “No. But they—we—deserve a captain like you. It would be selfish and stupid of me not to recognize that. You’re my captain. From the very first, you’ve been my captain, just as you’re theirs.”
Now Caledonia did smile. All the anxiety she’d felt over this reunion began to melt away. “Pi, I’m so glad—”
“Stop.” Pisces’s voice was flinty and sharp. She studied the space between them as though it were a book in which she might find the answers she needed. Then, without warning, she stepped forward and pulled Caledonia into a hug, pressing their cheeks together. She pulled back just as suddenly, catching Caledonia’s face in her hands and pressing a firm kiss to her lips.
Then the distance was between them again, and Pisces drew a careful breath before speaking.
“You’re my captain. And you’re my sister. And I am so mad at you.” When she looked up, her eyes brimmed with tears. “You’re my sister, but you left me. You chose revenge over me, and you forced me into a role I never wanted.” She paused, fists clenched between them. “I’m sure you rationalized that choice. I’m sure you thought I could handle it, but that’s not the point. You didn’t ask. So I don’t know what ‘sister’ really means to you. Until you figure it out, and until I can figure out how to forgive you . . . stay away from me.”
Pisces turned and left the room, taking all the air with her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“The damage, all things considered, is minimal. Nothing we can’t handle on the move.” Harwell trotted along at her side to give his report, and while it was good news, Caledonia couldn’t agree that the damage was minimal.
“Thank you, Harwell. Keep your teams on it. I want this ship fit before anyone rests for the night.”
This was a terrible order. Everyone needed rest after the long night, but right now they needed to remain alert and get themselves ready to run again when the sun rose.
“Yes, Captain.” Harwell hurried away with less enthusiasm than she’d grown used to seeing in his stride. He was tired. And it would only get worse for everyone.
She continued on her rounds, taking every opportunity to steer clear of the mess hall. She wanted to see her girls again, but with every step, she heard Pisces’s voice. Stay away from me. Those words were like bullets, crashing again and again into her heart, punching holes in her lungs, ripping through her veins, and scorching her skin.
She’d expected the conversation to be difficult. She’d expected to have to defend her actions, to allow Pisces to be angry with her. She’d expected Pisces to be reluctant to give up command. After all, Caledonia had given her everything, and it wasn’t fair of her to come back and make demands. She had expected a negotiation.
She hadn’t expected this.
This was so much worse. She was a stone falling through water, and as she tumbled faster and faster into the black unknown, she lost her sense of direction. There was no up, no down, nothing except this endless falling. She didn’t know how to apologize. She didn’t even know if she should.
Had she found Pisces only to discover they would never be close again? Could she be a captain without her sister at her side?
Every question seemed to lead to one more devastating than the last. None of them had answers. At least, none had answers Caledonia wanted to entertain.
She walked confidently through the narrow passageways, ducking where the piping scooped low and stepping neatly over the occasional hatch. This time, she took the lesser used corridors leading to the storage rooms near the nose of the ship. It was there she found Pine.
He stood beside a long table bolted to the floor bearing an odd collection of objects. There were rocks and bullets, a few assorted carvings of wood, scraps of cloth all in shades of gray, even a few small pieces of tech.
Pine didn’t look up when she entered, though he knew she was there. His focus was on a bit of metal cut into the shape of a bird, which he polished with an old rag. His movements were slow and methodical, almost meditative. When he finished, the bird was clean and bright. He moved on to the next and the next, setting them down or stringing them together in sets of three.
These were tokens for Triple. They didn’t have her body to care for so they were building a memorial to her. One by one, the Blades had come to this room, bringing anything that reminded them of their lost friend.
“We have more of her than they ever will,” he said.
Caledonia wasn’t sure when she’d started crying. Hot tears splashed against her jacket. She pictured Triple striding past Nettle, protecting the girl, and giving Gloriana the time she needed to escape.
And for that, they’d left her behind. She would be collected and displayed on the crown of some Bullet ship, used to spread fear across the seas.
“We can honor her, put her to rest,” Pine continued.
He wasn’t angry with Caledonia, though he had every reason to be. She felt her thoughts slipping quickly toward regret and willed her mind to become as still as the ocean. She closed her eyes.
“It isn’t your fault.” Pine was standing in front of her now, peering down at her as though her thoughts were as clear to him as daylight. “We all consented to be here.”
“You did,” she agreed. “But every time I ask people to fight, I am in some way responsible. I have to be, or all of this becomes meaningless.”
“We give this meaning,” he said, holding her with a gaze as steady as the sun. “And when we decide to risk our lives, the only one responsible for that choice is us. Not you.”
Always, Pine brought her to this place of uncomfortable honesty. “But I’m still choosing the fight. Putting you all at risk.”
Pine stepped closer, taking her in with his eyes. “Caledonia, if you are willing to let us kill for you, you are also willing to let us die for you. You can’t have half of that equation.”
Her breath hitched in the back of her throat. She was still reasonably sure he hated her, but in this moment, she thought he might see her more clearly than anyone on this ship. Before she could respond, the hallway reverberated with the sound of running.
Caledonia raced from the room with Pine hard on her heels, seeking the source of the noise.
Her name rushed toward them. “Caledonia!”
Nettle.
The girl skidded to a furious stop. Her hair was wild, her cheeks flushed a tawny rose, and her small body was puffed up and ready for a fight.
“What is it?” Caledonia demanded.
“That brick of a boy locked Oran in the hold!” Nettle cried. “He should be in the med bay, but I just found out he’s been in the hold since he came aboard.”
Caledonia was already running. She raced straight through the galley and down a level toward the hold, where she found Sledge planted like a tree.
“Where is he?” she demanded.
Nettle was right. He should be in the med bay. He’d been covered in dozens of tiny stab wounds, abused in myriad other ways she couldn’t see. He should be resting where someone could give him proper care.
Sledge stared down at her, angry betrayal scrawled across his features. “He’s the Steelhand, and he doesn’t belong on this ship.”
“He just helped save my crew,” Caledonia countered. “He had one of those cans open before we even got there. He has as much right to be here as anyone else.”
“You want to know why he had that can open?” Sledge shouted. “Because he designed it!”
It was the truth, and it was a terrible one. The Steelhand would know the weakness in his own design. But he’d used his knowledge to free a third of her crew before they arrived. He wasn’t the same person he’d been in Aric’s fleet. He couldn’t be.
“He’s my crew,” she asserted. “A former Fiveson like you’re all former Bullets. Or does that only apply to the people you know?” As she said the words, she heard Triple’s voice accusing her of the same, and the air froze in her lungs. “Move aside.”
Sledge moved, but only just, forcing her to press between him and the wall.
The hold, deep in the belly of the Beacon, was a splinter of a room cut in half by a narrow hallway. On either side, dimly lit cells with barred doorways and steel walls were stacked from end to end. None of the rooms bore a porthole, so the only ventilation was provided by a sluggish fan set into the wall at the far end. It was stuffy and warm and smelled distantly of sweat.
As Caledonia entered, Oran groaned from where he sat slumped against a wall in a cell near the door.
“Oran,” she snapped. Irritated, though not at him.
He sat up, revealing a fresh bruise on one cheek. Anger ruffled deep in her chest.
“Caledonia.” His voice turned her name into an ocean, rising and falling with a mix of wonder and surprise. He cradled his chest as he struggled upright, everything about him communicating pain. Then his eyes flicked over to Sledge.
Effortless and subtle, his posture shifted, and instead of weakness, he communicated rigid poise. “Tell me your new friend’s name.”
Caledonia blinked at him. She turned on her heel, facing Sledge. “Unlock his cell.”
“No,” Sledge stated. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I thought you were in the business of giving Bullets a fresh start?”
Sledge nodded, deep in his signature solemnity. “Bullets. Not Fivesons.” His eyes shifted to a point over her shoulder. “Not him.”
Caledonia tipped her chin up and fixed him with a gaze dipped in steel. This was her ship. This was her crew. And she would let him know it.
“He’s my crew, not a prisoner. I want him in the med bay,” she said, keeping her voice low, her words precise. “I won’t say it again.”
Two figures stepped into the doorway. Caledonia didn’t have to look to know it was Pisces and Pine. This was the kind of stand-off that could leave these two crews fractured beyond repair. But if she backed down, let Sledge direct this moment, she’d lose all the ground she’d managed to gain with the Blades.
Sledge clenched his jaw. His eyes tightened, and he let his glare drift once more to Oran. He stayed that way for a long moment, old resentments warring with new loyalties. He didn’t want the Fiveson on the ship, but he also wanted to work with Caledonia.
“Keys.” She held out her hand.
The air warmed with tension. Sledge looked from Caledonia to Oran, his expression clinging to anger, but edging toward something like fear.
Then Sledge released the barricade of his arms and fished the keys from his pocket, dropping them into Caledonia’s hand. She immediately passed them to Pisces, keeping her body in front of Oran’s cell like a shield.
“Don’t leave him alone,” Sledge growled, turning to leave the prison.
And as Pisces gathered Oran up and led him out, Caledonia realized she didn’t know if the statement had been offered for Oran’s safety—or their own.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Once again, Caledonia was in the position of needing to keep Oran as close as possible. If Sledge’s threat hadn’t made that clear, their walk through the ship did.
Every Blade they passed paused to watch him go by. Their expressions went slack or their eyes distant or they stepped back with heads ducked to avoid his gaze altogether. On the air, a single word traveled in a shrinking whisper: Steelhand.
For his part, Oran rejected Pisces’s support and walked as though he contained nothing but strength in his battered limbs. His torso was bruised and sliced so that his skin was more mottled purples and reds than pale brown, and his feet were bare against the metal floor, yet he walked as though he drew power from the pain and cold. In the presence of those who knew his past, he walked, Caledonia thought, like a Fiveson.
Even she felt the pull of it.
Leaving him in the med bay was out of the question. Instead, they brought him to the room next door to Caledonia’s. It was a mirror image of her own, with the cots secured to the opposite wall.
Pisces paused at the door. “I’ll find Hime,” she said, expression shuttered as she left.
Stay away from me.
The words would haunt any interaction they had. Anything Caledonia said right now would only make matters worse. So she swallowed her heart and turned back to the Fiveson.
The instant the door closed behind Pisces, he collapsed against the lower cot, only Oran again. All the strength he’d shown on their journey through the ship vanished, and his breath came in shallow puffs.
Caledonia crossed the room to kneel before him. “I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened. And I should have known it might.”
“Not your fault,” he said with a careful shake of his head, eyes drifting closed. “I just need a minute.”
She began to stand, but his hand darted out and caught hers. She froze.
“Caledonia.” Oran’s voice was low and strained. “I thought you were dead.”
His fingers curled around her own, rough but warm and so tempting. She thought of the kiss she’d taken. The thrill of it, the electric current in her blood. She wanted it again.
And maybe she could have it. Her heart was raw, still aching from the loss of Triple and the unexpected rift with Pisces. Everything was complicated and difficult, but maybe this could be simple.
She threaded her fingers firmly through his, drawing him to his feet with a tug. His eyes flew open in surprise, his lips parted, and she stepped in close. And then she stopped, hovering an inch from him.
“Cala,” he breathed, warm air ghosting over her lips.
As her eyelids fluttered closed with longing, she realized what she was doing. Nothing about Oran could ever be simple.
She pulled away. “I thought you were just a Fiveson,” she answered.
A doleful smile tilted one side of his lips. “I suppose we were both wrong.”
This wasn’t the boy she’d left aboard the Mors Navis. That boy had been fighting for his life, eager and desperate and not a threat to anyone. This? This was a young man whom she’d seen bring a hundred Bullets to silence and stand boldly in the face of Sister. This was the Steelhand. “You should have told me.” She pulled her hand from his and stood back. She missed the contact immediately and chastised herself for the feeling. He was a former Fiveson, and more dangerous than she had time to parse.
Oran didn’t back away. His muscles flexed against the cold, and his skin was smeared with blood. A hundred tiny wounds. “Caledonia. I came to you because I needed help. And I’ve stayed with your crew because I need whatever is left of my life to be better than it was. But I won’t hide anything from you. Not ever. I will tell you anything you want to know. Just . . .” He pressed his lips together, the smallest hesitation urging him to stop. “Before you ask, make sure you want to know.”
She stared straight into his tree-ring eyes. Part of her wanted to demand he tell her everything—all the things that made Sledge loathe him, all the things that made the rest of the Blades cower from him, all the things she didn’t know. But another part? She was afraid.
Caledonia swallowed hard. Her eyes fell to the marks over his heart. Hers was one of several shallow cuts. She wondered if he knew which one. Without Silt in his blood they would scar in the natural brown of his skin. His own mark on her life wasn’t visible, but it was just as pronounced.
“I need you to know something about me,” she said. “Lir killed my family. I met him on a shore run in the Bone Mouth. Alone. And he asked me for mercy. He said he wanted a different life, and I believed him.” She paused, grinding her teeth at the memory. “That was the first time a Bullet lied to me, and I lost nearly everything because of it.”
Oran’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Of course. Of course that was you.”
Anger spiked in Caledonia’s veins. Lir’s words from the night she attacked him on his ship snaked through her memory. You gave me a great gift that night. And the gift she’d given Lir? That was his power. He’d risen to the rank of Fiveson on the bones of her slain family. Oran may not have known who they were, but he’d have heard about that night.
And he’d have done something just as horrible to become a Fiveson.
The realization forced her back a step.
“Caledonia?” Oran asked, concerned.
“What did you do?” she demanded. “To become a Fiveson?”
The concern fell from Oran’s face. He became a wall, revealing nothing. “Are you asking me?”
“I—” she stopped herself. This was precisely what he’d meant moments ago. Knowing the answer to this would change everything.
“Hime will be here soon,” she said.
Oran held her eyes as he nodded once, solemn and resolved to keep his promise to her no matter the cost.
One day she would be ready. But not today.
CHAPTER THIRTY
When dawn threaded the horizon with a single promising band of gold, Harwell moved through the ship with the bell, rousing everyone with its tinny clang. As he went, he repeated the same phrase. “All friends bury the dead.” His voice was a sweet, earthy counter to the high note of the bell.
The crew gathered on deck, slipping silently into the brisk morning air. Caledonia watched as her girls emerged. Apart from those who were unable to move easily, every girl was here. Even Far drifted out and clung to the edges of the crowd like a timid spirit. Oran kept his distance, positioning himself in the command tower. It was better that way. There was no point in stirring tensions.
Pine was perched on the starboard railing. Looped around his hands was a string of every trinket and stone the Blades had brought him over the course of the night. He’d collected them like beads in sets of three, knotted tightly together. Sledge stood on the deck nearby, one side of him washed in fresh light, the other still dusted in purple shadow. He was so still, so peaceful, yet sunlight clung to the tears sliding down his long cheeks.
