Churning white froth boiled behind the paddle wheels as the sixteen allied warships backed smoothly into the deep trench mouth.
Their massive star-iron keels cut through the boiling swell, trailing thick wakes of grey foam.
Along the upper gunwales, damage crews secured the cracked star-iron bulwarks with heavy chains.
The four damaged cruisers took up protected positions in the center of the formation, flanked by the intact warships.
Behind them, the sheer basalt cliffs of the Abyssal Fire Trench rose like black obsidian jaws.
The passage narrowed rapidly from five miles of open ocean down to a tight, three-hundred-yard canyon throat.
“Maintain eight knots on the reverse screws!” Elder Sterling shouted, his bandaged hands gripping the auxiliary helm. “Do not let the drift carry you into the canyon walls!”
Captain Cole of the fourth cruiser waved from his damaged bridge, his voice booming over the speaking-horns.
