The Abyss Surrounds Us (The Abyss Surrounds Us #1)(25)

But it’s about to get worse. If the ship takes off without Bao and leaves him far behind, he won’t catch up. It’s a rule of Reckoner training. You don’t leave a pup unattended in open water. Without supervision, a Reckoner pup could wander off into the wild or submerge, never to be heard from again. We take careful precautions to ensure that none of our beasts go missing, installing tracking tags on all of them at the minimum. But Bao doesn’t have that luxury. If he’s gone, he’s gone.

Which means I have to act fast.

Swift didn’t leave me a radio, so I can’t hail the captain and tell her what’s happening. All I have at my disposal is what’s left on the trainer deck …

And the deck itself.

I know what I have to do. I swallow back the knot of fear building in my throat and step up to the deck’s edge. Above me I can hear the pounding of feet as the ship prepares for battle, and below the engines are starting to hum. I haul the beacon up over the deck’s lip and drag it backward until I’ve positioned it in the middle of the deck.

Bao lets out a confused bellow. He knows the engines are firing up, knows that he should be backing away to a safe distance, where the subthrust won’t scorch him, but we were right in the middle of training. His pattern’s been interrupted; he’s looking for guidance.

And so I give it to him, slamming my bare foot down on the LED beacon. The lights flare under my foot as the homing signal snaps on.

The pup groans, his beady eye peering up onto the trainer deck.

“C’mon, you little shit. I know you can do it,” I mutter under my breath, but Bao’s not having it. The engines are spinning up now, sending a deep rattle through the deck below my feet.

If I’m going to get him up on the deck, I’m going to have to do something really stupid. I thrust my hand in the bucket of fish and come up with a bundle. As the noise beneath my feet builds to a roar, I hold them out over the edge, right over Bao’s head.

His nostrils flare.

I’m ready for it this time, and I dive backward when he lunges, his powerful legs scrabbling against the deck. His claws leave dents in the floor as he heaves himself forward, his belly shrieking against the metal.

I stumble and fall, but I can’t let that slow me with a Reckoner pup the size of a Jeep bearing down on me. I toss the handful of fish at his snout, and he opens his jaws wide, catching two of them on his lolling tongue. Water seeps off him, nearly flooding the deck, and it strikes me that if the tank he hatched in were set up, he wouldn’t be able to swim in it. Bao’s eyes roll as he swallows, his legs kicking halfheartedly as he tries to slide himself closer to the beacon.

“You’re fine, you little idiot,” I huff, throwing another fish to distract him. I roll onto my belly and crawl over to the LEDs, hitting the off switch before Bao starts to confuse himself.

The all-call crackles on again and the voice declares, “Engines report ready. Brace for ignition in three.”

Shit.

“Two.”

I scramble to my feet and throw myself toward the switch that closes the bay doors.

“One.”

There’s a scream beneath my feet and a rattle from the mechanism. The Minnow leaps forward like a horse from the gate, the deck rearing up just as the rear bay doors slam shut. I wind my fingers tight around the nearest handhold, my muscles burning.

Bao slides backward, squalling the whole way until he crashes into the bay doors. The spray from the boat’s wake washes through the side ports as we accelerate, and after a few seconds I can loosen my grip without worrying about flying into Bao’s reach.

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.