I nod back to him, a flush building in my cheeks. Murphy is our International Genetically Engineered Organisms Council liaison. One of the biggest figures in the Reckoner business. A man who controls the entire industry. And I definitely shouldn’t have traipsed into the lab in nothing but my wetsuit.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Leung,” he tells my mother, giving her a consoling pat on the shoulder. He looks worlds out of place in his tailored suit. “I know it reflects poorly to lose so much of your stock, but you’ve got to remember that by catching unviable embryos early, we minimize the risk of disappointing our investors. Between that and the recent … security concerns, we need to be taking extra steps for the good of the business. There have been reports of theft, of break-ins at some of our top stables. The new crop of pups has to be stronger than ever.”
Mom shakes her head, and I don’t need to see her face to know that she’s got her lips pursed the way she always does when she’s calculating something. Finally she turns to Murphy and offers a hand. “Thank you. Your business is appreciated, as ever.”
He grasps her hand and gives it one firm shake, his gray eyes sparkling in the lab’s bright lights. “Until next time,” he says, wearing the grin of a man who’s gotten exactly what he wants. The IGEOC agent grabs the handle of the cryo-crate and begins to drag it toward the massive doors. “Cassandra,” he says, nodding to me.
I nod back, folding my arms over my chest.
“Good luck out there tomorrow,” he offers, but there’s something strange caught in his throat as he says it, and for a moment he looks profoundly uncomfortable.
As if I needed another reason to be nervous about what tomorrow holds.
Mom waits to speak until the door’s bolted behind him. “How many times do I have to tell you to change before coming up here? You’re dripping everywhere—did you even towel off?”
“Sorry, it’s just—”
“Cas, I’ve said it before. Think things through before charging in.”
“Mom, something’s wrong with Durga.”
That gets her. I see the shift happen in her eyes, her parent-brain batted to the side as scientist-brain takes over. “Symptoms?” she asks, gliding over to the computer and dragging up Durga’s records with one elegant swipe of her finger.
“She seemed unsteady when I was checking over. Tremors in her legs.”
“That’s it?”
I nod.
“No discoloration? No signs that she hasn’t been eating?”
I shake my head.
Mom peers closer at the charts. “I’ve never known her to be unsteady, but there’s a first time for everything. Do you think she’s fit for duty?”
Mom’s asking for my judgment. Durga’s in my charge. Tomorrow afternoon, she’ll ship out with her companion, the Nereid, and for the first time in my life I’ll be working as her sole trainer. Her life in my hands, and my life in hers. It’s my call, and mine alone.
“I’ll keep an eye on her, but I think she should be fine. No need to worry the Nereid.”
Mom smiles, and I feel like I’ve just passed a test. Like I can be trusted with the monsters she creates. Granted, Durga’s probably the easiest charge she can give me. The Nereid is a cruise ship, not an important cargo boat like the one Fae escorts. Durga’s been with the ship for twelve years, and in that time she’s sunk only ten pirate vessels, most of them in her first years on duty. She’s an old titan now, and none of the NeoPacific’s worst want to tangle with her.
And this is my big opportunity. My chance to show Mom and Dad that I’m ready, that I can be a Reckoner trainer full-time. After seventeen and a half years of waiting for the day I finally become the person I’m meant to be, it’s almost here.
Tomorrow, my life begins.
2
When it comes time to say goodbye, I hug my brother first.
Tom tugs the end of my ponytail, and I thump him on the back in return. “If you never come back, I get your room, right?” he asks when he lets me go.
“If I never come back, you get my morning shift,” I tell him. He flashes me an impish grin and tries to ruffle my hair. Tom’s two years younger than me, but he’s six inches taller and he never lets me forget it.
The dock around us is choked with tourists, some waving to people already on the Nereid, others fiddling with their luggage. They’re decked out in the season’s brightest colors, all of them determined to make the last month of summer count. Apparently two weeks on a boat is the best way to do that.
I turn to Mom and Dad, who sweep me into a hug before I can get a word in. “Be safe out there,” Mom mutters in my ear.
“Of course I’ll be safe,” I tell them. “I have Durga.”
She releases me, but Dad holds on tighter. Over his shoulder, I watch Mom shepherd Tom back toward the parking lot, and the anticipation pooled in my stomach swells.
Dad takes a step back, one hand still on my shoulder, and reaches into his pocket. He draws out a little blue capsule, and I feel every molecule in my body screaming at me to run. Dad must catch the panic in my eyes—he squeezes my shoulder and holds out the capsule. “Cas, it’s fine. It’s going to be fine. This is just in case.”
Just in case. Just in case the worst happens. The ship falls. Durga fails, I fail, and the knowledge I carry as a Reckoner trainer must be disposed of. That information can’t fall into the wrong hands, into the hands of people who will do anything to take down our beasts.
So this little capsule holds the pill that will kill me if it comes to that.
“It’s waterproof,” Dad continues, pressing it into my hand. “The pocket on the collar of your wetsuit—keep it there. It has to stay with you at all times.”
It won’t happen on this voyage. It’s such a basic mission, gift-wrapped to be easy enough for me to handle on my own. But even holding the pill fills me with revulsion. On all of my training voyages, I’ve never had to carry one of these capsules. That burden only goes to the full-time trainers.
“Cas.” Dad tilts my chin up, ripping my gaze from the pill. “You were born to do this. I promise you, you’ll forget you even have it.” I suppose he ought to know—he’s been carrying one for two decades.
It’s just a rite of passage, I tell myself, and throw my arms around his neck once more.
I board the Nereid with a suitcase full of trainer gear trundling behind me, a travel bag slung over my shoulder, and a growing sense of optimism as I spot Durga’s shadow lurking beneath the ship. A trail of bubbles against the hull marks where she rests her snout against the metal, her body pressed up against the keel.
I don’t think it’s possible to love someone as much as a Reckoner loves her companion ship.
Once I reach the main deck, I lean against the rail and watch my family make their way back down the dock. As I look on, Tom turns, shielding his eyes against the afternoon sun as he tries to spot me. I wave my hand once, then tip him a little salute. Tom salutes back, and I can feel the jealousy radiating off him from here. Like me, he’s been waiting his whole life for the day he gets to do this on his own.
A firm hand taps my shoulder, and I turn to find a mountain of a man towering over me. He’s dressed in a smart uniform, but his gut tugs at the waist in a way the jacket clearly wasn’t tailored to handle.
“Miss Leung,” he says, extending a hand as large as my head. “Welcome aboard the Nereid. We’re very pleased to have you. I’m Captain Carriel.”
I take his hand and give it the firmest shake that I can manage. “Glad to be of service, sir.” I’m not sure if you’re supposed to call the captain of a cruise ship “sir,” but I figure it can’t hurt since the guy’s paying my salary.
“I have a key for your bunk.” He hands me a card on a lanyard, which I loop around my neck as I gather all my gear back up. “I’m guessing you’ve got it all handled from here though, huh?”
I can’t figure out if he’s joking or if he actually has this much trust in me. It’s difficult to tell when you’ve never seen a person do anything but smile.
The Nereid thrums to life as I drag my gear down to