She missed out on Crab's god-gift, but Rita hadn't come away empty-handed. Crab's boat sat lower than their yacht, and in that brief scrape past, she had clearly seen their pet-in-a-box: a black ball marked with a white 8.
The ships they had collided with were scattering in the aftermath, and within ten meters there was no longer any vessel flagged for PvP. Rita slipped back into the helm.
Motor was elbow-deep in repair kits, trying to push their durability back up from seventy-two percent after the hit and sabotage. Mistblade was crouched at the console, holding the fish she had hooked just before the last strike and nudging it closer to the seven-ball, testing whether it would suddenly "wake up" and eat.
Rita dropped beside Maple Syrup and Fat Goose and shared what she'd seen. "If the cue wielder has teams, are we with the white-cloud cue or the storm-cloud cue?"
