The ship gave another violent lurch, and I heard a crash from above. Then Cypher's voice: "Omri, I need more power to the stabilizers!"
We had to get up there. I had to help.
"Stay here," I told Kora, unstrapping myself.
"Are you insane? Cypher said??—"
"Iknowwhat he said. But I can feel the storm. I can feel the currents." I stumbled to the door as the ship rolled. "I might be able to help navigate through it."
I made my way through the corridor, using the walls for support as the ship pitched and heaved. The stairs to the deck were slick with condensation, and I nearly fell twice before making it to the top.
The deck was chaotic. Zoya clung to the navigation station, shouting coordinates. Tor and Knives worked the wing controls, fighting to keep us stable. And at the helm stood Cypher and Jask, both of them straining against the helm as they fought to keep us on course.
I staggered toward them, and Cypher's head snapped around. "What are you doing up here?"
"I can feel the currents! I can help!"
"Get below before you're thrown overboard!"
"Listen to me!" I grabbed his arm. "The safest path is to port, bearing fifteen degrees down. There's a calm channel through the storm. I can feel it."
He stared at me, and I saw the calculation in his eyes. Trust an untrained rift, or rely on his own experience?
"Jask, take the helm," he said suddenly. “Scavenger, with me." He dragged me to the navigation station, one hand locked around my wrist to keep me from being thrown off my feet. The ship groaned around us, and somewhere below I heard the sound of breaking glass.
"Show me," Cypher demanded.
I closed my eyes and opened myself to the current. The storm's currents became visible in my mind. And there, cutting through the heart of it, a path of relative calm.
"There," I said, pointing. "If we angle down and to port, we can ride that channel through. It'll be rough, but it won't tear us apart. We're too late to go around."
Cypher looked at the astrolabe, comparing what I'd sensed to its readings. For a moment I thought he was going to reject my guidance, relying on instruments over instinct. Then he turned and shouted, "Jask! New heading, bearing fifteen degrees port, descending angle!"
"That'll take us into the heart of it!" Jask called back.
"Do it!"
The ship angled hard, and I felt my stomach drop as we descended into the storm. The darkness intensified. Energy crackled around us, and I saw tendrils of green lightning arc between the wings.
But I'd been right. The channel was there, a river of calmer current cutting through the chaos. We rode it like a road, still buffeted by the storm but no longer in danger of being torn apart.
Cypher kept one hand on my shoulder, anchoring me as I called out adjustments. "Three degrees starboard… steady… now five degrees up…"
It felt like hours but was probably only minutes. And then, suddenly, we were through. The storm fell away behind us, and the Gallery returned to its normal, eerie calm.
I sagged against the navigation station, exhausted. My head pounded, and my vision swam.
"Status report," Cypher shouted.
"Port engine's overheated," Omri shouted from below. "But still functional. We've got some structural damage to the starboard wing support."
"Anyone hurt?"
A chorus of "No," and "I'm fine," came from the crew.
Cypher turned to me, and I couldn't read his expression. "You felt that? The safe channel?"
"Yes."
