At 2:07 am, Maya logged into the server, the digital room humming with low‑frequency chatter. Zephyr’s message popped up:
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Mara kept her head. She lashed the companionway, ordered the pumps, and with a pair of hands like engines herself, she rowed the Petrel hard toward a reef she'd seen on navigation charts. Noah thought she planned to run her onto rocks, to save the people at the cost of the boat. She had other designs. She used the reef as a cradle, easing the Petrel into shallow water where the hull could rest on the coral without being crushed. It was a dangerous ballet; the hull scraped and complained, but she held. At 2:07 am, Maya logged into the server,