The Abyss Surrounds Us (18 page)

“Get over here, you little shit,” I choke, and slash the lights over his eyes.

Bao roars, rearing up again. With two quick strokes of his back legs, he drifts toward me, and as he draws close, I can smell the acrid smoke and gasoline fumes that roll off him. His beak snaps shut impatiently, and I shut off the Otachi.

For a moment we regard each other, one monster to another. The one who took down the quadcopters and the one who made him do it.

Then I twist a knob on my wrist, and the
dive
signal flashes out into the depths, the noise of it ringing in my ears. Bao hauls in a deep breath through his blowholes, then slips silently under the surface, sinking fast, but not fast enough to avoid brushing me with his singed keratin plates as his shoulders rush beneath my feet. I flinch when my toes skim over a scorching-hot bullet hole.

It doesn't seem worth it to go back to the
Minnow
. For a moment, I fantasize about crawling into the wreckage of the quadcopters, about trying to pull out whoever's left alive in there, as if I can undo some of the damage that Bao's—that
I've
—done.

But that doesn't seem worth it either. If there are people living and breathing in those twisted remains bobbing on the waves, my face is probably the last thing they want to see.

My best option at this point is probably just to follow Bao. Let myself sink. Let the ocean take me, let the water fill my lungs like it's been trying to do. It would be painful, but then it wouldn't, and I would never hurt anyone again.

No, that's not true. That can't ever be true. If I let myself sink, it would kill Swift, and I can't abide that. I wrecked these quadcopters without hesitation, and it saved her life, but now even that doesn't seem like it's enough. Was her life worth the lives I just took? Is she worth that to me?

I'm still stuck on those questions when Varma's Splinter comes to collect me. Chuck leans out of the copilot's seat and scoops me out of the NeoPacific. There's no fight left in me; I let her drop me on the floor like a rag doll. They could easily kill me now, but I don't think they're in the mood for favors.

“Holy shit, girl,” she says.

“I've never seen anything like that,” Varma agrees. “Is that what your job is always like, huh? Damn, that's some beautiful carnage.” He leans back in the pilot's seat, smirking as he gazes out over the sea. Something quick and low escapes his lips. It sounds like a Hindi prayer.

Chuck checks him with her shoulder. “Quit dawdling,
lelemu
. We're running again.”

“Right,” he says, and guns the engines.

28

The Splinter sidles up to the
Minnow
, and the ship's claws snap around our hull, winching us up to the cradles on the second deck. Our breakneck pace hasn't slowed. This was only the first attack—the SRC will try again, and next time it won't be just quadcopters. But I don't feel ready to think about that. As it is, I'm not even sure if I can walk on my own when the Splinter finally settles into its mounts.

Varma and Chuck clamber out before we're properly docked, and I try my best to crawl after them, but my arms shake as I haul myself over the ship's side. My breath comes in unsteady gasps, and darkness seeps into the corners of my vision. The ocean has a funny way of sapping your strength without you noticing. Once you're out of the water, you're shattered.

But then a pair of hands finds me, and Swift is there, slinging my Otachi-clad arm over her shoulder. “She's dead on her feet, boss,” she says, and I wince, knowing Santa Elena is seeing me at the weakest I've ever felt.

“Let her rest,” the captain declares, and I could kiss her if I had the strength for it. “She's done well.”

And the worst part is, I'm glad to hear her say it. If it had been the other way around, if it had been pirate aircraft attacking an innocent ship, I'd have been ecstatic over how well the fight went. I
deserve
this praise. The pattern was exactly the same as a regular Reckoner fight: An act of aggression was met with a monster. Innocent lives were saved. It was self-defense, through and through.

And I don't know anything about myself anymore if I can justify it like this.

Swift's arm tightens around my waist, guiding me carefully past the gawking crew. My feet don't feel real. I do my best to drag them into something resembling steps, but she has to take most of my weight, and by the time we're down to the hall of bunks, I've given up on trying to contribute. I don't question that she's taking me to Code's old room rather than the closet. Maybe the captain gave her the all clear, or maybe this is just another tiny rebellion, but all that matters to me is that I have a bed to sleep in.

Swift kicks the door open and deposits me haphazardly on the bunk. “I'll get you some blankets,” she says, turning away. “Don't go anywhere.”

“Hah,” I grumble against the vinyl of the bare mattress, but she's gone and I don't think she heard me. I couldn't lift my head if I tried.

That copter must be getting back to its carrier. Must be connecting to an uplink, must be downloading the data from the fight: videos, heat signatures, statistics. A rescue ship has probably already been dispatched to the wreckage that Bao left in his wake. The families are being notified.

And my family is being notified.

First I failed to protect the
Nereid.
Then I failed to take the pill. And now they're going to see exactly what I just did. They're going to think I've turned, that I want to stay with my captors, that I'm one of them now. The worst failure of all, in their eyes.

E tan e epi tas.

Come back alive and victorious, or don't come back at all.

The message couldn't be clearer. Even if the copters succeeded, even if I'd been plucked from the ocean and dragged back to the California coast, I wouldn't have a place waiting for me in our stables. I don't belong there anymore. I try to picture the look on my parents' faces when they see what I did. I don't know if I'll ever be able to justify it to them.

At least there's
someone
on this big blue Earth who doesn't seem to care how much I fuck up, someone who's spreading her own comforter over my crumpled, beaten body. I didn't notice her sneak back into the room. I guess I was too busy wallowing. Swift pries at the straps around my arm until the Otachi comes loose, and a moment later, I hear a clunk as she sets it on the floor.

“Thanks,” I mumble, my eyelids sealed shut.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers. For what, I'm not sure. I feel the brush of fingertips on my cheek as she tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and then her footsteps are moving back toward the door.

“Swift?”

“Yeah?” she croaks.

My next words are whispered through my teeth, something small and secret, something I can barely admit to myself, but she needs to know. “It was worth it,” I tell her, and the rest is darkness.

29

I feel like a ghost aboard this ship. When I wander to the mess, nobody pays me any mind. I don't get eye contact or nods. Swift's vanished. Her trainee duties must be keeping her busy. I half expect her to be there when I wake up the morning after sinking the copters, but the only part of her left when my eyes slide open is the warmth of her blanket around me and the scent of her in its fibers.

I haven't returned it.

I go about my usual duties, not knowing what else to do. When the Minnow makes berth at an island to refuel, I check on Bao, making sure that the quadcopters' guns haven't hit him anywhere vital. He's got battle scars now, in the form of bullet holes peppering his plating. A few of them struck true in the cracks between his keratin. I have to probe them with a long metal lance to make sure no bullets made it through his hide and into his muscle. It's exhausting work, climbing over every inch of his monstrous bulk, and when I'm done I end up napping on the trainer deck, leaning against the wall under the counter. The rattle of the engines jolts me awake an hour later as the
Minnow
puts to flight again.

That night, I wake to a knock. If it were another attack, they wouldn't be knocking, so I throw on a hoodie and answer it, half-expecting the sight that greets me when I swing the door open.

Swift stands in the hall, her hair swept back and her hands stuck so deep in her pockets that she looks like she's about to fold in on herself.

“Do you … uh, do you want to talk?” she asks, flashing me a nervous grimace. From the way she glances over her shoulder, I assume this visit isn't captain-sanctioned.

I nod.

“Cool. Got something I think you'd like to see. Come on.”

I follow her to the
Minnow
's main deck, where the hulking shadows of Phobos and Diemos loom against the night. Swift clambers up on the barrel of the aft gun and motions for me to follow. The metal is warm under my palms as I pull myself up after her; the chill of the night hasn't stolen the sun's heat from it yet.

“Look up,” Swift says when I settle at her side.

The moonless night is a gift. The Milky Way stretches out above us, a spillage of light in the deep black of the ocean. With the slumbering
Minnow
's lights off, we can see for millennia.

“That's Cygnus, over there—the swan. And Pisces. Fish. And there's Cetus,” Swift says her fingertips brushing up against the sky as she connects the dots between each one. “The whale.”

“You know your stuff, huh?” I ask, leaning back against the cannon.

“Mom always told me stories. Y'know, about the goddesses and heroes and monsters. And she taught me where to find them in the sky. Showed me how to navigate with them, told me what they were like. Never quite became one, though,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand.

When her fingers fall away, I spot the little fish inked there. “So I get that everyone on this ship has one of those tattoos,” I say, “but why … ”

The darkness emboldens me. I reach over and brush the sliver of ink. Swift's spine goes rigid under the pad of my finger, and I jerk my hand back.

She smirks, her gaze fixed on the distant line of the horizon barely distinguishable from the dark of the night. “One of Mom's best stories was about a Greek king and a man named Damocles. One day, Damocles goes to his king and starts sucking up, telling him how great his life must be and how wonderful his power is. So the king offers to switch places with Damocles, to give him a taste of what being king is like. Of course the sucker accepts, so the king lays out a lavish banquet for him, and Damocles is jazzed. Then the king shows him where he'll be sitting. It's a throne, totally tricked out, but suspended above it by a single thread of horsehair is a sword, pointed right at the seat. Damocles gets it now—he understands that with great power comes a shit-ton of danger. So when Santa Elena asked where I wanted my tattoo, I decided to put it where it would remind me of that story. 'Cause you're at the top of the world—you're the most powerful thing on the sea when you're serving under her—but there's a cost. There's always a cost.” She trails off, staring out at the dark waves.

“Is it worth it?” I ask.

“Why, you thinking of signing on?”

My lips twist, as does an invisible dagger in my gut. It's an innocent-enough joke, but there's weight behind it. With rescue ships inbound, my days on the
Minnow
are numbered, no matter what happens when they catch up. As much as I hate to admit it—which isn't very much, I'm finding—this ship's become home in the past few months.

Swift snorts, folding her arms against the chill sea winds. “It's never going to end,” she groans. “That's the worst bit. I … I dunno, when I signed on to this crew, I thought it'd be over someday, or at least I'd be the one calling the shots in the end. Y'know, I was a kid. I thought I could change, I thought I could get out. I thought I wouldn't end up like … ” There's something breaking inside her, something that's pushing her close to tears, but she bites down on them, ducking her head to keep me from seeing. “I'm trapped.”

“Yeah, me too,” I tell her, and her watery gaze snaps up, her bright blue eyes fixed on mine. “I mean … I used to want more than anything to get off this ship, to go home, to do some good in the world. But after … yesterday, after what I've done—” I break off, trying to collect my thoughts. “I've spent my whole life fighting pirates. It's in my blood. It's what I
do
. And then three months on this boat and I'm just one of them.”

“Am I ‘just one of them'?” Swift asks, miffed.

“No. You're so much more.” The traitorous truth slips from my lips far too quickly for me to rescind it. I can feel a blush building in my cheeks, and from the stunned look on Swift's face, the darkness is doing nothing to conceal it. “I mean—”

“Oh,
shit
.”

“If it weren't for … everything … ”

She buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Quit it,” I yelp, swatting her on the shoulder. “It's not funny.”

“It really isn't,” Swift says, but she's giggling still, and I can't help but laugh with her. It's ridiculous. It's outrageous. Bao could tap dance across the NeoPacific right now and it wouldn't seem that out of place, because I'm in way over my head and I'm falling.

I'm falling for her, she's fallen for me, and the whole thing is so desperate and stupid that we're both reduced to fits of laughter that ring out across the
Minnow
's deck. We're two trapped girls with nothing but each other on a ship of people who'd be better off with us dead, and somehow on top of that we've managed to do the one thing we shouldn't be able to do.

Three months ago, Swift dragged me on this ship and I punched her in the face. And now I'm so tied to her that my heart aches at the thought of having to leave this boat. Home used to be Reckoner pens, Mom's lab, Dad and Tom in the kitchen. But the
Minnow
's taught me a truth that's been hiding in plain sight my entire life.

Home is what you kill for.

And I killed for Swift.

But even though I want to, even though there's an energy crackling between us right now that's almost impossible to deny, I know we can't do anything about this. I know how that would look. No matter how you swing it, I'm still a prisoner on this ship, and Swift is still one of my jailers. We go this far, no farther.

She catches my eye and grimaces. “Equal footing, huh?” she says, as if she's read my mind.

I nod, knowing it crushes her, knowing it crushes me. We're oceans away from a world where Swift doesn't have power over me, power I can't ignore, power I can't afford to expose myself to. And until we stand on the same level, absolutely nothing can happen between us.

And it sucks, because all I want to do is kiss her. It's infuriating how perfect it would be to kiss her right now, perched on a cannon on a pirate ship under the stars. That sounds like something off the pages of an adventure novel. But my life isn't one of those stories. My story is a hurricane, and here with Swift is just the eye.

And so I stare up at the constellations she outlined and listen to the engines churning below us, the waves sliding off our bow, and somewhere under that, the gentle sound of her breathing, and let that be enough.