The galaxy's most dangerous crime family has a new leader—and he used to be a hero.

PREVIOUSLY IN CLOCKWORK CONSTELLATION: CHRONO CHAOS

Book One Recap: Clockwork Constellation: Chrono Chaos

Millicent Gearwright was a brilliant but anxious young inventor, content to work alone in her grandfather's clockmaking shop on the orderly world of Gearturn. That peaceful life shattered when a catastrophic temporal malfunction trapped her entire city in endless time loops, with people frozen or speaking in jumbled past, present, and future.

Desperate to understand what was happening, Millicent found herself reluctantly partnering with Captain Barnaby Blackwater, a notorious time-stealing pirate, along with her loyal robot companion Quark and the poet Orin of Vaporshade. Together, this unlikely crew embarked on a dangerous quest across the Clockwork Constellation, facing cosmic threats that challenged everything they thought they knew about time, space, and reality.

Their journey took them to strange worlds filled with impossible creatures, ancient mysteries, and forces beyond imagination. Along the way, Millicent began to discover hidden truths about her grandfather's past and her own potential, while learning that sometimes the most important battles are fought not with weapons, but with trust, courage, and the bonds of unexpected friendship.

Though their adventure ultimately reached a resolution, it came with consequences none of them fully anticipated. The experience transformed each member of the crew in profound ways—changes that would prove both valuable and dangerous as new threats emerged across the galaxy.

Now, with their first impossible mission behind them, Millicent and her crew find themselves facing challenges that will test everything they've learned about themselves, each other, and what it truly means to fight for the people you care about.

CHAPTER ONE

Plunge

"I ascend with respect for the heights, acknowledging the danger, yet trusting in my skill." Gideon Highwire recited the Steeplejack Oath as a meditation on his work. He clipped the high-tensile line to his carabiner on his safety harness. One tug. Locked. "I safeguard myself, my crew, and those below."

The city glow of Gablehaven sprawled beneath him in the night, unaware.

He pulled tight the cuffs of his gloves, pressing leather snug into each crotch of the V between his fingers, mirrored in sequence. Accuracy. Symmetry. Control. "Each climb demands precision, patience, and courage. There is no room for error." He crouched on a ledge the width of his boot.

Across the gap, he looked into the next building over, where seven figures stepped into a boardroom. Pinstripe suits. Wide-brimmed hats. Scaled skin catching the meeting room light.

"Alligators?" The word barely left his mouth. "They run the undercity in pinstripes and scales."

High-waisted trousers strained over broad, reptilian frames. Ties tucked with care. Pocket squares like bloodstains. Too tailored for monsters. Too real to be a dream.

This wasn’t a gang; it was a syndicate. Old money. Older instincts.

He whispered the final line to the cool of the night, carried forward in a breath of condensation, "My hands are steady. My mind is sharp. My loyalty is to the work that stands tall long after I’ve descended."

They weren’t hiding. They never had to.

He reached for the wire at his collar. A flick of static. Then a voice.

"The Cult is moving fast."

Another voice followed. Low. Measured. Certain.

"The Goddess demands we act before next moonfall to become part of the family."

Then a name.

"Barnaby Blackwater."

Gideon’s jaw locked. Barnaby. A month ago, he’d barely survived the Mindshredders. Now these cold-blooded killers were planning the menu. And Blackwater was today’s special.

He shifted and pressed against the rooftop’s steel flank. His gaze scanned ledges, shadows, gutters. Everything too still. Too perfect.

Gargoyles crouched like sentries. Stone eyes. Silent warnings.

No movement. No mistake. Just the waiting. Everything looked right. Which meant something was wrong.

A pressure settled behind Gideon’s ribs. Instinct tightened. He turned back to the boardroom just as a new figure stepped inside. Larger. Slower. Every movement bent the room around him. The others dipped their heads in silent deference.

"Big Daddy." Gideon identified the leader of the Alligator Mob by his antiquated wide-brimmed hat, yellowed with age and stubborn pride, and the gaudy gold-headed cane planted firmly beside his considerable frame—a mountain of flesh squeezed into a rumpled ivory suit that had long since surrendered to the battle against his bulk. Gideon’s pulse jumped. His grip cinched on the escape wire. This was the moment. If he could just catch the plan…

A whisper, faint and wrong, scratched the edge of his awareness. He looked down. Rooftops. Statues. The same. No, something in his instincts felt off.

One shadow sat too thick. A shape that didn’t fit. A crouch too ready. Had that gargoyle always been there?

His fingers flexed on the wire. He blinked. Gone. Just nerves.

He turned back to the boardroom. The wire shifted in his palm as he readjusted.

Inside, the voices turned sharp. Urgent. "The Cult is moving fast. We want in on this action. We’ve got to make a move, now, or we lose our play—see?"

"The Goddess wants him dead by next moonfall? That’s why Barnaby Blackwater has to—"

Static burst in his earpiece.

A second sound scraped across the rooftop.

Gideon snapped his head down.

What he’d missed, what had been slithering at the edge of thought, was now undeniable. The gargoyles weren’t statues.

Hundreds of golden eyes lit the dark. Crocodiles. Four feet long. Low-slung muscle and teeth. They crawled up the stone with impossible grace, blending with the building. Hunting.

They were already on him.

Adrenaline surged. He jerked back.

Too late.

One lunged. Its jaws opened inches from his boots.

He met its gaze. Cold. Calculating. Endless hunger.

Then it struck.

The reek, wet rot and something older, worse, hit Gideon as the crocodile’s jaws snapped shut, barely missing his boots.

Then a crack.

Their eyes locked. Cold. Furious. It slipped and fell. Thirty stories vanished beneath it. The shriek cut off mid-drop.

No time to celebrate.

Gideon launched. The escape wire went taut, hurling him in a wide arc over Gablehaven. Muscles burned. Breath vanished. He adjusted by instinct.

Slate tiles surged up. Too fast. He hit hard, then slid. Grabbing for purchase, a chimney lip caught him just short of the edge. No breath. Claws scraped stone.

He ran.

Boots slammed rooftops, bounding from ridge to ridge. Ten buildings. A blur. The city dropped beneath, nothing but steel and shadow.

The crocodiles gave chase, fast, fluid, relentless. Their claws shredded tile. Every sprint closed the gap. They didn’t chase. They herded.

Gideon’s foot hit loose flashing. He slipped. His knee skidded, and jaws snapped past his boot.

They were wearing him down. Speed didn’t matter. Not now. They wanted him tired. Cornered. One stumble from a fall.

Then—a sound.

Low. Distant. A steamboat whistle.

The river.

They weren’t chasing. They were steering.

His eyes snapped forward. One more block.

A jagged rooftop. Beyond it, a spire, tall, sharp, narrow as a needle.

He urged himself to climb it. Get high. Get clear.

He surged forward, legs screaming, boots skidding. One croc lunged. Teeth flashed.

He kicked. Boot to snout. It hissed, recoiled.

He didn’t stop but vaulted up, then grabbed the spire’s lattice. Metal bit through leather.

He climbed. They climbed with him. The city fell away. Wind screamed past. Up and down bled together, black sky above, blacker drop below. And still they came.

The steamboat exhaled. A low, guttural bellow rolled through the night. Louder now. Closer. A signal. A countdown.

The trap was closing.

Then he reached the top.

Lightning crowded his spine. His gut twisted sharp. His body knew the drop was coming.

Below, the crocodiles climbed. Dozens of them. A writhing mass of scales and hunger. Closer. Closer. Nowhere left to run. Only down. Exactly where they wanted him.

He saw it in their eyes, fixed, lidless, waiting.

The river wasn’t escape. It was the end. A grave dressed in current. He stood at the spire’s peak, fingers clenched around the iron rod. Below, a city unaware. Lights flickering. Streets humming. Life, oblivious.

And then—stillness.

The world stopped breathing.

No sound but his coat, flapping in the wind.

No sensation but gravity tugging him toward the dark.

He smiled. "Remember me, boys." He tipped two fingers from his brow in a jaunty, roguish salute. Not mockery. Not panic. All style. "I’m the one who got away."

And he let go.

Meet the Crew of the Beck & Sail

Millicent Gearwright

Inventor. Clockmaker. Reluctant revolutionary.
Brilliant and precise, Millicent once believed everything could be fixed with logic and gears. But time is unraveling, and her mind may be changing with it. Haunted by visions, driven by principle, and equipped with a dangerous curiosity, she leads the crew into the heart of the unknown—whether they’re ready or not.

Captain Barnaby Blackwater

Time thief. Pirate legend. Enemy to some, hero to others.
With a coat full of secrets and a ship powered by stolen time, Barnaby is charming, dangerous, and rarely predictable. He knows how to survive the cosmic web—and how to disappear when it matters most. But when past sins come due, even pirates must pick a side.

Gideon Highwire

Rooftop runner. Idealist. Defender of the downtrodden.
Hailing from the city of Gablehaven, Gideon’s heart is as lofty as the spires he climbs. Witty, brave, and grounded by a deep sense of justice, he believes in second chances and impossible odds. He doesn’t just look up—he leaps.

Quark

Artificial Intelligence. Robot companion. Evolving soul.
Created by Millicent, Quark is more than metal and logic. With each decision, each failure, and each act of courage, he grows. But when the line between human and machine begins to blur, Quark must choose who—and what—he is willing to become.

Others Who Shape the Constellation

Queen Maatkara

Immortal. Cursed. Ruler of the Crocodile Cult.
Once a priestess of light, now a queen of shadows, Maatkara commands ancient power and a legion of loyal crocodiles. But her immortality is bound to the soul she betrayed—and breaking that bond may cost her everything.

Kasim-Ra

The face on the back of her head.
Maatkara’s beloved, sacrificed in a bid for power, now haunts her—literally. His presence is both a curse and a key, whispering truths that neither gods nor queens can silence.

Stark Maddox

Captain of the Tern. Strategist. Haunted warrior.
Pragmatic and unshakable, Stark carries the burden of old wars and broken timelines. He sees patterns others miss—and threats they’d rather ignore.

Red (Barnaby Blackwater’s counterpart)

The same man, from a different strand of time.
He’s the what-if. The might-have-been. And he’s not waiting to be asked twice.

You’ll Love Clockwork Constellation If You Like…

• Douglas Adams – The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
  For the wit, absurdity, and cleverness in a collapsing cosmos

• Becky Chambers – The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet
  For the found family in space and heart-led sci-fi

• Jeff VanderMeer – Annihilation
  For the surreal, strange transformations and reality bending

• China Miéville – Embassytown
  For linguistic weirdness and philosophical depth in alien contact

• Dan Simmons – Hyperion
  For the grand scale, poetic prose, and fractured time storytelling

• Martha Wells – The Murderbot Diaries
  For a compelling, deeply human AI protagonist

• Terry Pratchett & Stephen Baxter – The Long Earth
  For parallel worlds, philosophical exploration, and sly humor

• Iain M. Banks – Player of Games
  For a post-scarcity future with moral complexity and galactic stakes

• Neal Asher – The Skinner

  For: Bio-horror in space, mind-bending tech, and wild post-human evolution
  A twisted space opera where transformation is both physical and mental.

• Charles Stross – Saturn’s Children

  For: Rogue AI navigating a post-human galaxy with wit and social critique
  Like Murderbot meets noir, but with even weirder tech and sharper bite.

• Alan Dean Foster – The Tar-Aiym Krang

  For: Swashbuckling space adventure with ancient tech and cosmic mysteries
  Old-school space opera energy with hidden depth and a charismatic rogue.

• Ramez Naam – Nexus

  For: Consciousness hacking, ethical quandaries, and emerging post-human societies
  Explores the cost of neural connectivity and control with real stakes.

• Madeleine Ashby – vN

  For: Artificial intelligence, generational programming, and identity
  A robot girl self-evolves against her code—think Quark with sharper edges.

• Christopher Priest – The Inverted World

  For: Mind-warping world mechanics and distorted perception of time and space
  A novel where reality literally bends beneath your feet—brilliantly unsettling.

• Kameron Hurley – The Stars Are Legion

  For: Living ships, all-female cast, grotesque body horror, and unreliable narration
  Organic weirdness, survival, and mythic undertones inside sentient starcraft.

• Alastair Reynolds – House of Suns

  For: Long-view space travel, clones with diverging identities, and deep philosophical questions
  Explores memory, identity, and legacy over a million-year timeline.

• Sean Williams & Shane Dix – Echoes of Earth

  For: Post-human sleeper agents, alien interference, and high-concept sci-fi mystery
  Alien contact meets psychological espionage and split consciousness.

• Tim Powers – The Anubis Gates

  For: Literary time travel with occult science and historical absurdity
  Not space-bound, but shares Chrono Chaos’ clever temporal weirdness and genre fusion.