She wrinkles her nose. “Gimme open sea any day. Couldn’t
stand living on a beach.”
“Oh yeah? You’ve never tried it?”
Swift grins, stretching her arms behind her head. “Nah,
shoregirl. Flotilla, born and raised. Didn’t touch solid land
until after I’d started my bleed.”
Of course she’s from a floating city. Now that I think about
it, that’s the only place that a crew like this could come from.
Those behemoths thrive on piracy, unregulated by any state as
they drift with the currents cycling the NeoPacific. They’re too
big to be taken down by a military force, and no state has the
balls to try. The last attempt was twenty years ago, when a Fili-
pino armada tried to blockade a floating city and starve out the
pirates supplying it. The retribution was ruthless. Pirates across
the NeoPacific began wrecking any ship flying the flag of the
Philippines, and their ocean trade is still struggling to put itself
back together in the aftermath.
It suits Swift to be from such a volatile place.
“How long have you been on the
Minnow
, then?” I ask.
My gaze flicks to the ocean outside, and I’m relieved to see Bao
continuing to keep pace.
“Captain took me on when I was thirteen, started me off
as a deckhand. So, uh, five years?”
Confirming that Swift is, indeed, about my age. I
nod. “And when did you get appointed one of Santa Ele-
na’s…trainees?”
“Christ, is this a job interview? I’ve been in the running
for a good year and a half now. My turn to ask a question.”
I roll my eyes.
