Page 33 of The Space Between Stars

“Hit, captain!” someone screamed from the topdeck.

Her father swore loudly enough to reach her ears. “Prepare the launchers to return fire,” he called.

The footsteps of the crew across the planking were like war drums. Fankalo couldn’t move. She was too terrified and fascinated all at once. Mitek fled past her, practically diving headfirst through the hatch. Water exploded to the starboard side. Then again portside.

Her Luck prickled in the back of her mind. She closed her eyes and felt its tug lead her back toward the navigation room. Brow creased, she stepped away from the hatch to follow it.

“Ay! Brat!” Mitek hissed from the lattice beneath her. “What are you doing?”

Fankalo ignored him and scurried back up the stairs to the quarterdeck. If anyone noticed her, they didn’t say anything.

After the turbulence from outside, the room was strangely quiet, as though it was holding its breath. A chest in the corner lit up in her mind. She rushed to it and opened the lid. Within lay dozens of cylindrical objects. When she lifted one, her Luck thrummed through her bones.

The door opened and shut behind her. Mitek was panting with his back pressed against it. He strung together more curses than she’d ever heard in a single utterance.

“What are you—?” His mouth hung open when he saw the contents of the chest and the cylinder in her hand.

“What are they?” she asked. Other than very, very lucky.

“Flares,” he responded, both hands raised like she’d leveled a tanka on him. “They’re really expensive and really dangerous. Put it back.”

“What do they do?”

“Make a lot of light and noise.”

She pocketed it and set the lid back on the chest.

Mitek’s hands clutched at the sides of his face. “Have you lost your—?”

“You’re going to show me how to use this.”

“Fat. Fated—”

“Or this ship’s going into the deep.”

The boy’s tan skin lost all its color. Another explosion of wood sounded outside the door. “You’re taking the blame,” he snapped.

“Deal.”

“And I get your ration of datecakes.”

“Absolutely not.”

His face screwed up before he grabbed her wrist. “Come on then.”

They slipped from the navigation room and clambered up the ladder onto the topdeck.

“We should use it here. Less chance of it hitting something it shouldn’t.”

She handed him the flare, and he pulled his hat over his eyes. “Kretch. We needed something to light it.”

What an idiot. How had he not thought of that before? Fankalo fished into her waistbelt for a box of matches and set it into his hand. “Here.”

His eyes widened. “You keep matches on you?”

“Of course I keep matches on me. They’re useful.” Though, admittedly, she didn’t know how to use them. She had pocketed them when her father gave her a tour of the magazine, hoping the opportunity would strike.

Mitek fumbled with the container, lighting a match against its side, only for the wind to blow it out.