The Abyss Surrounds Us (The Abyss Surrounds Us #1)(24)

“How do you make it change?” she asks, her hands already prying at the switches.

I take a knee and slap her fingers away from the controls. “Opcode. Basically throwing down the right switches. You memorize the switchboard and hit the ones that give the right command.” I can’t show off every combination without confusing Bao, but I’ve had the board memorized since I was ten. “First switch is the basic ‘come’ command. It’s the easiest to key in, so someone can bring in a Reckoner and put them to rest no matter what.” I flick off the other active switches, and the LEDs flash with the homing signal.

A plume of steamy breath jets from where Bao floats, and the pup swims right for us, the water cutting in a neat V-shape around his snout. When he reaches the beacon, he knocks it once with his nose and then tilts his head back, his mouth hanging expectantly open.

“Toss him a reward,” I press, elbowing Swift.

She reaches into the bucket, pulling a face as she squelches a fish in her grip. Then she straightens and holds it out over Bao, her other hand resting casually at her hip.

The pup’s eyes flick upward.

“Wait—” I start, but there’s no time for warning. I leap for Swift and wrap my arms around her waist. She shrieks as I haul her backward. Bao lunges.

He surges halfway out of the sea, his eyes bulging, his razor-sharp beak snapping shut with a wet crack. His body slams against the trainer deck, sending a tremor through the metal floor below us as we hit it. Bao bounces off the rim of the deck and slips back below the waves, bellowing once before the water closes over his head.

Swift lies paralyzed beneath me, the pulpy remains of the fish stuck to her hand. It’s fallen on the deck in two pieces, cracked in half by the sudden impact. But her hand’s still there, not down Bao’s throat, so at least something’s gone right for a change.

“I said toss,” I hiss through my teeth, my face pressed flat against the deck.

“Sorry,” she groans.

“Do you have to taunt every living being you come across?”

“I think you broke something.”

“At least you’ve still got your arm,” I spit. “Moron.”

Swift claps me on the back with her gut-soaked hand. I elbow her in the stomach and roll off her, landing flat on my back.

And then somehow we’re both cackling. Not the quiet chuckles at each other’s expense that we’ve shared from time to time, but the raucous laughter that comes from sheer relief and the adrenaline in our blood gradually slipping away. A flush fills my face.

Swift catches my gaze, and she laughs even harder. “You look like a tomato!” she crows, trying to wring the slime from her hands.

“At least I don’t snort when I laugh,” I wheeze between breaths.

This only makes her snort harder. She picks up half of the fish and throws it at me. It hits me in the shoulder with a wet slap. “You’re so good at it—why don’t you give him the fish?”

I sit up, ready to leap on her again, but then the second half of the fish comes flying at my face. “Jesus Christ, Swift!” I yelp, swatting it away.

“Yeah, that’s right, here’s your uncivilized pirate wench,” she cackles, rolling on her side and pushing herself to her feet.

A bellow from the water marks Bao’s impatience. I pull a fish from the bucket and pitch it out into the sea, not caring where it lands.

As I sit there, taking in the bright world around me and the damp deck beneath me and the blood that’s rushed to my face, I finally take stock of what’s just happened. I was in a situation where I was completely safe, where Bao couldn’t touch me. And I threw myself headlong into his path, just to save Swift from her own stupidity.

Swift, my captor. But Swift, the reason I’m still alive.

Swift, my guard. But Swift, my guardian.

She’s saved my life, and I’ve saved hers. Well, saved her arm, at least. Bao probably would have ripped it clean off if she’d left it there a microsecond longer. I acted without thinking. Maybe there’s some instinct deep inside me that wants to save people; maybe that’s why being a Reckoner trainer feels right, why I leapt for Swift the instant I realized she was in danger. Maybe I’m a good person at the core.

But in the back of my head there’s an insidious little voice telling me, “You’re part of the ship now.”

The laughter we shared sours in my memory, and I fight to keep my face straight.

Then the all-call crackles on.

“This is navigation,” an unfamiliar voice drawls. “We’ve picked up a bucket on our instruments three leagues to the North. Unescorted. The captain says we’re hitting it. Prepare accordingly.”





14


A change comes over Swift as soon as the all-call snaps off. The dog is gone; she’s all wolf now.

“Bao can’t keep up,” I tell her.

She doesn’t seem to care. She strides for the door into the Minnow, her shoulders squared, her right hand on her pistol as she cranks the hatch open with her left.

“Swift, wait—Bao can’t keep up.” I stagger to my feet and lunge after her, but she slams the hatch just as I hit it. There’s a click beneath my fingers, the click of the lock sliding into place.

She’s gone mad with power or fanaticism or something. She can’t possibly be thinking straight by locking me down here.