The Abyss Surrounds Us (19 page)

30

Santa Elena holds court the next evening.

She puts out an all-call after dinner, and the entire crew packs into her throne room. My newfound invisibility has me pressed up against the back wall, trapped behind a sea of bodies that block my view of the dais where the captain sits. From the glimpses I catch between shoulders, she isn't dressed up like the last time we were in here; instead she's armed to the teeth and decked out in a sleek set of body armor. The pursuit is coming, and our captain is ready for war.

“Cassandra,” she barks over the grumble of the crowd, and silence washes over the room. I push off the wall and make my way forward, nudging my way past the crew members that block my path.

Santa Elena steps off the dais to meet me as I approach. She wears a predatory grin, but underneath it I can see the stress that's eating away at her. The whole room aches with tension. My gaze flickers to Swift, who sits on the dais's edge with Chuck and Varma. Lemon's off in the navigation tower, keeping watch over the instruments and the horizon. While Chuck and Varma keep their eyes fixed on the captain, Swift's are locked on me.

I draw my lips tight, trying not to give anything away as Santa Elena circles around me, her hands folded behind her back.

“We have a bit of a situation here,” the captain starts. “Which is to say, we have a complete clusterfuck on our hands, and it's centered around you. Your IGEOC friend's got hell raining down on us, and from what I've gathered, we've got ships with Reckoners of their own inbound to bring our merry little adventures to an end.”

A discontented mumble rises from the ranks, but Santa Elena quiets it with a wave of her hand as she stalks back around to face me. She lays her hands on my shoulders and I wince as her nails bite against the cotton of my shirt. “Fortunately for us,” she says, her gaze unflinching as she stares me down, “you're also our way out of this mess.”

I can't blink. Not now. I shift my weight, but Santa Elena's grip stays rooted in me.

“You did a fine job with the quadcopters. I'm genuinely impressed with how far the beast's training has come. But it's become clear to me that our endeavor with him is not sustainable. We're abandoning it.”

A roar fills my ears, overwhelming the shouts of the crew. Bao is my life aboard this ship. I've put so much work into making him the monster he is today—what
right
does she have to throw that away?

She must see the defiance, the rejection in my eyes. “Cassandra, there are
children
on this ship. Children I'm trying to do right by, children that I can't have falling to ‘Reckoner justice.' My son among them. I never anticipated that the response from shore would be this severe, and my miscalculation has put every soul on this boat at risk. We need the SRC off our case permanently, and that means ridding this ship of both its Reckoner and its trainer. No, I'm not going to kill you,” she drawls as she feels me tense under her grip. “Until we're in the clear, you are this ship's best defense. And I know you're going to defend it,” she mutters, casting a glance back at Swift. “You'd do anything to protect ‘this ship,' right?”

I nod. There's no point in lying.

“That's the spirit!” She claps her hands together and turns back toward her throne. “Here's the plan. You lot!”

The crew roars.

“You wear your loyalty on your skin. Show it to me.”

Arms thrust into the air with little black fish sketched across them. Trousers roll up to reveal calves stained with the ship's mark. On the dais, Varma's grin widens, stretching the Minnow on his cheek, and Chuck sweeps her mane of wild hair to the side, revealing the ink that slashes between her shoulder blades. Swift nods her head to expose her neck, but her brow is still set in that resentful furrow.

“I'm not gonna hide it. We're in deep shit. But when has that ever stopped us?”

“Never!” the crew screams back at her. Some of them have slid their weapons out; others brandish their fists.

“When the inbound hits, I want you to hit back with everything you've got. We're gonna show them that trifling with us is the worst mistake they're ever gonna make. But Cassandra, here—” She points to me, and my spine stiffens. “Cassandra will be doing the brunt of the attack. She and our beast are going to make our stand, and those shore-rat bastards are going to fall on her like flies on meat. And when they do, that's when we start running.”

Varma frowns, and I feel like I need to pinch myself to make sure I'm seeing it. The whole crew seems flummoxed.

“You heard me right,” Santa Elena says, mounting the dais. “This is the plan: Cassandra is going to crush the pursuit until they can't catch us, no matter what. And then she's going to turn herself over to whatever's left.”

“How do we know she isn't going to turn on us the second she's got an SRCese fleet at her back?” Hina shouts over the grumbling noise building in the crowd.

Santa Elena flashes a wicked grin as she prowls around behind Swift. “Because we have something she's interested in protecting,” the captain says, sinking her nails into Swift's shoulder.

Swift sits up straighter. A bubble of laughter rises from the crew, and a blush starts to work its way into her cheeks.

“You've done well, kid. Exceeded expectations, that's for sure. You kept both Cassandra and the beast alive. And there were … certain bonuses to putting you two together, it seems.” Santa Elena pauses to let everyone savor the implication of her words. “But all things end, Swift, and you've reaped the benefits of this opportunity enough.”

If she doesn't step away from Swift soon, I'm going to do something drastic. My fingers twitch, itching for Otachi controls, and for a second I forget my place on this ship. I forget that the captain has forty people at her back who would kill me if I went near her. I forget that the only thing protecting me is an inbound fleet that's probably still leagues off. All I care about right here and now is putting myself between Swift and the captain.

I've taken three steps before I realize what's happening, and Santa Elena slips her gun out of her holster, her fingers still crimped in Swift's shoulder. She doesn't seem to notice that she's drawn her weapon until the silence of the room around us sinks in.

The captain snorts. “Cassandra, let me make one thing very, very clear.” She lifts the gun and points it at me. “There's going to come a time when I ask you to jump and instead of saying ‘how high,' you're going to refuse, even with a gun to your head. I know it has its limits. But
this
,” she says, shifting her aim to Swift. “This doesn't.”

Swift glares up at me, her eyes shimmering slightly in the low light. Her fists are clenched so tightly that her knuckles flash bone-white. Here, before the entire crew, the crew she's supposed to be in contention to lead someday, Swift is being strung out like bait. And it's all my fault.

I shudder, knowing the worst of it. When I get off this boat, when the pursuit catches up and Santa Elena relinquishes me, there's going to be no one left on the
Minnow
who's really on Swift's side.

“Fail to defend this ship, and I think you know me well enough to guess what happens next,” she says, nosing the barrel into the side of Swift's skull.

The crew, surprisingly enough, looks worried. They don't know how to confront this development. Santa Elena's trainees are supposed to be some of the most respected people on this boat. Now one of them is being cast down when she ought to be exalted. With the confirmation that Swift's succeeded in protecting me, her status should inflate. But the reward for her loyalty and service is a gun to her head.

Santa Elena must sense that someone's about to speak up, because she chooses that moment to draw her gun back and stow it at her hip. “I'll admit that was a little dramatic,” she says, laughing.

The tension breaks, the crew picking up her cues and chuckling along with her. Santa Elena glances down at Swift and offers a hand.

Swift takes it. Applause joins the laughter as the captain pulls her to her feet. “Well done!” a large man in the back thunders, and Swift cracks a strained smile. But her eyes are fixed on me, and I can see the hollowness. The betrayal. She's had plenty of guns pointed at her in her career, but I'm willing to bet that this was the first time the captain was on the other end of it.

31

When the all-call stutters on the next evening to report that a SRCese fleet is closing in, it feels inevitable. Like just another day on the job. I sprint down to the trainer deck amid the chaos of the pre-battle rush, dodging past the crew members hauling giant ammunition crates out of the ship's stores. It's all or nothing tonight, and everyone seems to know it.

Swift's already waiting when I arrive, and she's saddled with a huge, dark package that she nearly drops when I come skidding onto the deck. “Captain's got a parting gift,” she says, foisting it over to me. Her eyes stay fixed on the ground. There's a hint of red creeping in on their edges.

Stringlets? Or just sleeplessness?
I wonder as I accept the bundle.

It's body armor. On the top of the pile rests a beetle-black, sculpted chestpiece, woven out of fiber that I'm assuming will stop bullets. There's some sort of flotation device that accompanies it to counteract its weight in the water. I set the heap of armor gingerly on the counter and lift the chestpiece off, sliding it over my shoulders. It's got straps on it, buckles and velcro that I have no idea where to pull tight.

“I don't—” I start, but Swift is already stepping around behind me, her hands twisting the belts around my back as she tugs them into place. For a moment, the armor squeezes too tight against my chest. I grunt, but the pressure lifts a second later.

“This'll go faster if you help. Get the armpieces on. I'll handle the legs.” Swift snatches a few components off the counter and tosses them to me.

“Swift.”

She ignores me, already working on securing a plated skirt around my waist. My breath hitches when her fingers brush against my wetsuit.

“
Swift
.”

“Please, just … just let me … ”

I feel like my bones have been inverted. I've been broken, and everything's been pieced back together wrong. When I step off this boat and onto Bao's back, I'll be completely free. Once the pursuit is disabled, I can go with them. I can expose Fabian Murphy for the traitor he is. I can escape the
Minnow
and Santa Elena and all of the blood and death I was supposed to unleash. I wanted to get away from that.

My fingers fumble over the armpieces, locking them into place around my biceps. I slide the Otachi onto my forearms, cinching my fingers in the controls. With a deep breath, I point them out across the sea and fire the homing signal. The noise of the call rattles the deck, and somewhere off in the deep, Bao's reply thunders in return.

As she finishes up with my legs, Swift takes a step back to admire her handiwork. “You look like a fucking knight,” she says, glowing with pride as a smile breaks over her face.

Relief rushes through me. At least here at the end, I get to see her happy one last time.

There's one piece left. Swift lifts the helmet off the counter and hands me my earpiece. I slip the little device in, and she sets the helmet over my head. “Jesus, cheer up. You're going home, just like you want,” she grumbles.

But that's not what I want, not at all. Everything I want, everything I have left, is standing right in front of me, and I'm about to leave her behind.

The sea opens up beneath the deck as Bao's head crests out of the water. He lets his jaw hang open, putting the nubby spikes that line his mouth on display. His rank breath washes out over us. I take a hesitant step away from Swift, toward the monster I've raised. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do, so I flash the beacon again, and Bao slides his beak onto the trainer deck. His head is so massive that it barely fits in the rear port, and I think back to the days when he was small enough to swim in the makeshift pool. He's come so far.

I've come even farther.

“Cas?”

I pause, my heart thundering in my chest as I turn to face her, as I meet that red-rimmed gaze that's boring into me.

“There's line-hooks in the belt. They'll anchor you.”

Oh.

“And … ” She trails off, shrugging, and I feel the pressure of saying goodbye crash down on my shoulders.

There are only two words I need to say. Four syllables. I can feel them in my throat, and I'm terrified of what could happen if I let them loose. But three months on this ship have robbed me of the connection between my fear and my actions, and last chances have a funny way of shaking up your priorities.

“Equal footing?” I breathe, because here and now is as free as I'm ever going to be.

“Equal footing.”

I don't know who moves first. We lunge for each other. The feet between us collapse into nothing and my hands wind in that stupid, stupid hair as her arms ensnare my waist and her lips come crashing over mine. I want hours, I want weeks, I want more than these bare seconds to be free like this. She holds me so tightly that my armor warps under her grip, and I kiss her with everything I have left. There's no time for hesitation, no time for uncertainty.

There's just me and her, and the rest of it falls away.

Swift groans, the noise vibrating against my chest as she sinks against me, her lips urging mine open with all of the hunger I've seen inside her, all of the need and impatience that I've watched her battle and been unable to comfort. But now I can. Now I surge up on my tiptoes and grin against the soft curves of her mouth as I let one hand slide down to cradle her jaw, to bring her chasing after me.

When we break apart, she buries her nose in the crook of my neck and I smooth down her unkempt hair, and together we stay like that: giddy, out of breath, and scared to pieces of what comes next.

It's only when Bao tosses his head impatiently, causing the whole deck to lurch, that we snap out of it. I pull myself out of Swift's grip and move to his eye, running my fingertips over one of the ridges that crests it, and the touch seems to quiet him. When I glance back at Swift, I catch her swiping her hand over her cheek.

“I should probably … ” I start.

“Captain'll be looking for me,” she says. “And you need to get in the water, stat.”

I can feel the void widening between us already, the distance that separates us growing with every passing second, and I want nothing more than to run back to her side. But there's a job to do here, one that both our lives are staked on. I crimp my fingers between Bao's keratin plates and slot one of my boots on top of the spikes that line his jaw.

I'm just about to haul myself up when her hand comes down on my shoulder, twisting me away from my beast and back to face her. Swift presses her forehead against the helmet that shields mine, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she whispers, “It's not goodbye until you're out of sight.”

And then, just like that, she turns and sprints off the trainer deck before I can get a word in.

I push off the ground and scramble onto Bao's head, cursing pirate girls under my breath as he bucks underneath my weight and pulls back out of the rear port. I check the respirator around my neck and slip my goggles up over my eyes.

The piece in my ear crackles on. “So now that
that's
over with … ”

Varma
.

“You, uh … you heard that, then,” I say just before setting the respirator in my teeth.

“Funny thing about these comms—they pick up anything that shakes your bones. You're lucky the captain put me in charge of your line,” he says, and I can feel the laughter he's suppressing. I clench my jaw. As we slide away from the ship, Bao rears, lifting his head until we're level with the main deck.

Santa Elena stands there, dressed to the nines in her own elegant, bulletproof armor. Her chin lifts, a vicious grin spreading across her face as she watches her handiwork rise up to meet her. The sunset blazes at her back, casting her long shadow out to touch us, as if marking us as inevitably, unquestionably hers.

And though part of me is certain that after tonight, we'll be free of the
Minnow
at last, another part knows that this boat will last with me to the end of my days.

“Inbound is ten minutes out. Splinters away at my mark,” the all-call announces, and here atop Bao's back, I finally have the vantage point I need, the one that lets me see right into the navigation tower where Lemon bends over a microphone.

The white hulls snap off the sides of the
Minnow
, and a swell of nostalgia sings through me. Bao's upper body plunges back down toward the water; my stomach swoops as I crouch, winding my fingertips in his plates. His blowholes heave beneath me, drawing a quick breath before he submerges. The waters churn around us, and I fight to keep my hands rooted when they crash over me.

“Cas, you there?” Varma's voice mutters in my ear. “Captain wants you to keep him submerged until she says otherwise. We'll draw them in, then you do the rest.” He says it as if it'll be easy.

“Got it,” I reply around the respirator. The comm's smart enough to fill in the consonants where the piece in my mouth has stolen them. I unspool a line-hook from my belt and drive it into Bao's plating, praying that the barbs will hold fast when the time comes. Once I'm secured to his back, I turn the Otachi to the dive command and blaze them out.

Bao sinks lower. Shadows close in around us, the dark of the night settling into the sea long before it touches the world above us. I can barely make out the sleek curve of the
Minnow
's hull in the murk. We drop lower still. I pinch my nose and blow to pop my ears.

It's so quiet, so calm down here. There's nothing but the rush of water from the churn of Bao's forelegs and the rock-solid sureness of his skull underneath me. I find myself wishing I could stay, wishing we could wait until Bao's breath runs out or until the respirator sputters and quits. But somewhere up there on the
Minnow
's deck, Santa Elena has Swift in her sights, and that thought keeps me rooted, waiting for the next instruction that comes through the comm.

Light spools through the deep as the
Minnow
's engines flare, and I know it's almost time. I don't need to direct Bao with the Otachi. His bond with the ship is enough to set him after her as she runs, the Splinters' hulls skimming in her wake.

There are six shadows trailing her, and three of them are swimming.

“Drop back, Cas,” Varma hisses in my ear. “They'll be expecting signals to be coming from our ship. The farther Bao is from us, the more confident they'll be. Wait for our signal to strike.”

I snap on the Otachi and cast Bao's homing signal back toward his tail, my eyes fixed on the hulking forms of the three Reckoners overhead. Every homing signal is unique, coded to make sure that the beasts can only be controlled by their masters. But sometimes they forget themselves. Sometimes when they're too amped up, they'll go after any flashing light and any siren. But Bao is the only one who heeds my call, and the tightness in my chest unclenches as the pursuit boats and Reckoners pull ahead, still chasing after the
Minnow
's shadow.

The biggest of the beasts is a cetoid. Its jointed flippers are tipped with vestigial claws that carve through the water as it leads the pack, plunging ahead with powerful strokes of its flukes. A cephalopoid follows close in its wake, tentacles rippling through the darkening waves, and a serpentoid brings up the rear. Its sinuous body dips underneath its companion ship, coiling against it before pushing off again. There's a part of me that cries out at the sight of the other beasts, of the animals that I've spent my whole life raising.

There's another part of me that reaches out to crush it.

Like Varma said, they're focused on the
Minnow
. They're expecting any signal to come from its decks. They won't see me coming. Trainers have conducted battles from decks, from shattered hulls, and in their most desperate moments, from the sea. No one's ever dared to fight from the back of the beast they're directing.

No one has ever needed to.

Heavy pulses ring through the water, and flashes of light up above mark where the opening shells have struck. Santa Elena's drawing them on, triggering the Reckoners' responses. The three beasts lunge ahead, leaving their companion vessels defenseless in their wake.

“Cas,” Varma says in my ear. “Now.”