I didn’t think this through. Bao can only handle being out of the water for so long. His skin will dry out, his own weight will sag against his internal organs, and he’ll only get more stressed the longer he’s out of the water. But he’s alive for now, and I can work with that.
I grab a mess of towels and wet them in the puddles that have accumulated in the rear of the deck. I can’t do anything about his weight without refilling the pool, but I can at least keep him damp. Bao’s beak bobs and weaves, following me as I work my way around him, draping the soaking towels over the crucial areas of his skin where the water will seep between the keratin plating.
I’ve left the side ports wide open. The harsh wind rips at my face, and flecks of seawater fly off the Minnow’s hull and into my eyes. It’s a bright, sunny day, and I can feel the power of the hunt shuddering through the deck beneath me.
“All Splinter pilots to stations,” the all-call demands over the roar of the passing air.
I can only imagine the chaos that must be unfolding in the abovedecks. A knot of fear builds inside me, a quiet thing that starts at the back of my throat and grows until it burns at my eyes. We’re going into battle.
We’re going to kill some people.
The ship rocks against a wave and I crouch next to Bao, keeping one hand latched onto the plating on his back in case he tries to make a move. The all-call mentioned that the ship was unguarded. No Reckoner escort means that the ship we’re about to hit is going to be armed to the teeth. There will be crossfire, and Bao and I will be right in the thick of it.
His hide’s still growing, and it’s nowhere near tough enough to stop a bullet. I have to crank down the side ports before the shooting starts or else we’re both dead.
I squint against the wind and reach for a handhold, dragging myself along the deck until I reach the switches again. Before I hit them, I take one last look at the open waters, at the wide sky above me and the early autumn sun.
The all-call crackles on again. “Splinters away on my mark. Three. Two. One.”
The pneumatics release with a harsh snap, and two bright white hulls split from the ship, plunging into the NeoPacific just ahead of me. I lean out over the water, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of the Splinters as they drop back behind us. I spot Swift’s wicked grin as she hunches over the controls of one and Varma’s easy smile as he slouches in the cockpit of the other.
“Splinters away,” the all-call announces.
There’s a scream like a jet engine and the white hulls take off, their needle-shaped forms skimming over the tops of the waves like gulls as they shoot ahead of the Minnow. Three others join them, one circling wide from the aft of the ship and two cresting out from the other side of the stern.
They’re our herding dogs. When we get within range of the ship’s sensors, it will bolt. The Splinters are the ones that’ll slow it down. Any decent-sized Reckoner could snap a Splinter in half with a single bite, but an unescorted ship would be hard-pressed to hit one with their artillery. The guns aboard the needleboats are weak—nothing hull-piercing—but they’re enough to bring most other ships to a standstill.
And that’s when the Minnow will pounce.
This is going to get messy fast, and I need to keep out of it. I crank down the doors as quickly as the mechanism will allow and slide my way back over to Bao. With a layer of metal between us and the waves at our hull, it sounds like we’re in a washing machine, surrounded by the muted churning of the sea.
Bao hates it. I can see the stress eating away at him. He’s got his head drawn back into his body, his chin rocking back and forth on the floor as he lets out a long, keening groan. His blowholes flare in and out rapidly, and all I can think right now is how lucky I am that he’s not an ichthyoid or a cephalopoid or anything that couldn’t handle a stint out of the water.
But he’s still a Reckoner, and they’re meant to swim. His body is designed to rely on the water’s support, and though his keratin plating shields him on the outside, it also weighs against him in ways that I can’t fight for long with the tools at my disposal. I’ve got the wet towels, but that’s about it.
All I can do is wait and pray.
If Swift had waited three seconds before running off to kiss the captain’s ass—if she’d just listened to me, the only person on this boat who knows how to keep the damn beast alive—we wouldn’t be in this mess.
She’s not on my side. I’d almost forgotten, what with the sleeping in her bed and the joking around and the lessons about Reckoner training. Her life may depend on mine, but she’s only interested in saving her own skin. For a few minutes there today, when we were both earnestly laughing, I’d forgotten what she was.
The Minnow’s pace slows. We must have caught up to the ship. The engines’ pitch descends until their low thrum rattles the deck beneath us, matching Bao’s groans. With the partitions down and the engine noise masking his complaints, we’ve managed to almost completely disguise the fact that we’ve got a Reckoner onboard.
It hits me. This is the first time in weeks that we’ve come into contact with another ship, the first time since we left the Nereid to sink that there’ve been good, decent people nearby. People with radios and uplinks. People who could tell my parents that I’m alive, who could get an armada on our tail, rescue me, and confiscate Bao.
People whom Santa Elena is about to butcher.
I want to throw up the partitions and toss Bao into the water. I want to dive in after, to flail my arms and scream for help. I want to get aboard that ship and find their radio, call home, get someone to come save me.
But there’s a flaw with that plan. I’m on the Minnow, coming from the Minnow. They’d see me as a pirate before anything else, and they’d shoot me on sight.
I’m all by myself down here, locked away from everyone that might hear me, so I feel no shame when I suck in a huge breath and scream like I’ve been stabbed. Bao jerks his head at the noise, but he’s too weak out of the water to do anything about it. I let my lungs empty until the sound chokes off, and when I draw my next breath I feel lighter.
So I scream again.
But this time I can’t get it all the way out before a loud explosion rocks the ship, causing the deck beneath my feet to lurch. Bao kicks, his claws scrabbling against the metal floor.
It’s starting.
Muffled thuds ring out from the upper decks as the Minnow returns fire. They’ll target the ship’s engines first, taking out any chance of it fleeing. That’s part of the reason Reckoner trainer decks are positioned right over the engines. A boat that’s dead in the water is so much harder for a beast to defend, so we keep the Reckoners’ focus close to the thrusters.
My first solo battle, on the Nereid, was so atypical. I’d been utterly focused on Durga back then, and I’d seen nothing but the Minnow’s victory in the aftermath. A sick sort of curiosity grips me, a frustration that I can’t see the attack in progress. Dad taught me the basics of pirate tactics when I was little, and I want to see them put into practice.
Once they take out the engines, they’ll target whatever artillery’s trained on us. I’m guessing that starts with whatever shelled us in that opening shot. The Splinters are probably already seeing to that. When they disable those guns, they’ll pull up alongside the ship and throw down the ladders.
And then comes the part that I don’t want to think about, but I have to, because of Captain Carriel and all of the dead crew I left behind when Swift dragged me off the Nereid. They’re going to swarm this boat, and they’re going to kill everyone onboard who fights back. Bullets will find brains, knives throats, until the decks are wet with blood. I saw the bodies last time, the crew that had put up a fight laid out in the open. This time, I won’t know what they look like. I’ll just know that they’re all dead.