The Abyss Surrounds Us (17 page)

27

Chuck escorts me back to my “cell” minutes later. I guess now that there are people out there looking for a prisoner, Santa Elena's decided it's time to start actually treating me like one. I settle into my nest of mops and sprays, wondering if anyone actually uses any of this stuff. I've seen some of the younger kids in the crew on deck duty, I suppose, but everything in here always seems like it's exactly where I left it.

My arms feel like jelly, and I'm so exhausted that I fall asleep almost immediately. When I wake up, there's an air freshener can digging into my back like a wedge. I can't believe I passed out right on top of it. I pull it out, squinting at the label.

Lavender Meadow.

I haven't smelled anything remotely like a lavender meadow since the day I got dragged onto this ship.

With no windows in the closet, I lose track of time. Occasionally a crew member will toss a meal through the
door and escort me to the head, but I sleep so much in between that I can't tell if they're coming at regular intervals. It's never a lackey, never Swift, never someone I can ask how long it's been, if there's pursuit on the horizon, if the captain's said anything about letting me out of this room.

All I can do is wait and listen to the rumble of the engines beneath my back. We're always fleeing now. The captain must be trying to put as much distance as possible between us and the Flotilla, to get us out in the open sea where we'll be nigh impossible to reach. But there are satellites in the sky above us, the last gasps of pre-Schism space programs that watch the oceans with hawkish eyes. If the SRC commissions a sat to track us down, there's no way we can hide.

I keep waiting.

And finally the door opens, and it's Swift standing there, but it's not the Swift I've known. That spark, that hunger I used to see in her is gone. She looks like an empty shell, her hair limp, her eyes hooded, and all she tells me is, “It's time.”

As we jog down to the trainer deck, the all-call crackles on. “Radar has picked up an aerial attack inbound. Four SRCese quadcopters. All hands on deck. Let's knock these birds out of the sky.”

The pursuit has caught up.

“The
Minnow
's artillery will handle the brunt of the attack, but we want you prepped just in case there's an opening,” Swift explains as she unlocks the hatch and lets me scramble through ahead of her. “We also need Bao near the ship. We don't want him to take too much damage, and they can't fire anything heavy at us when we have a hostage onboard.”

I cross to the counter where I left the duffle with the Otachi. Swift watches me, her fingers drumming on her biceps as I strap on the devices one by one.

“Don't you have somewhere to be?” I ask as I winch the velcro tight around my wrists.

Confusion flickers over her face, as if she doesn't know the answer to my question. Then she steps forward and draws an earpiece from her pocket. “I'll be on Phobos, on the main deck. If you need me to do anything, this is a direct line, okay? I … I promise it won't be like last time.”

I take it from her palm, shivering a bit when my fingers brush her skin. “You're on my side.”

“You're the only one on my side. What else am I supposed to do?” she says, and she's only half-joking. She jogs back to the door, then glances over her shoulder.

Our eyes meet.

I want to say something, want to wish her luck or make her stay. I want to make these seconds count, because if something bad goes down here, they could be our very last. And Swift seems on the cusp of spitting something out too. Her lips twitch, but she inhales sharply before any words start to form, and then she bolts out the door without even saying goodbye.

I call Bao in with the beacon and slip Swift's earpiece on, wincing as I adjust the moldings to the shape of my ear. It's silent now, but if I press against it and speak, the device will read the vibrations in my skull and pipe my voice straight to her. No matter how much chaos surrounds me, she'll hear me loud and clear, and there's a little bit of comfort in that.

A blast of sea wind hits me, and I shiver. It's an overcast day. Maybe that's why the quadcopters have chosen now to strike. I squint up at the clouds, as if I could spot a four-rotored shadow creeping up on us from above. But the only shadow approaching is Bao's beneath the waves. I spot him circling deep below us, drawn upward by the light and noise of the beacon.

The earpiece buzzes to life, and I almost lose my grip on my handhold. “Keep him submerged for now,” Swift tells me. “Only bring him up if we need him.”

“Got it,” I tell her, and kick the beacon, flipping the switches to order Bao to dive.

“Inbound is less than a minute out. Splinters away at my mark,” the all-call snaps. “Three. Two. One.”

Two sharp cracks echo out on either side of the
Minnow
as a pair of sleek white hulls fall away. I stick my head out the port-side door just as Varma wheels past with Chuck sitting primly in his copilot seat. They swing wide around the back of the ship, and as they come back around, the guns slide out of the Splinter's needle-like nose, poised and ready to kill. The second Splinter comes flying around the
Minnow
's keel, and I realize that they're circling us. The ship may corner like a speedboat at a good clip, but the agility of the smaller craft can't be matched, and Santa Elena knows the Splinters are our best defense.

There's an awful stillness settling over the sea, and again I look up at the clouds, hoping to spot some sign of the impending attack.

“Inbound on starboard,” the all-call screams. “Engines to full, all crew brace for immediate ignition.”

The
Minnow
surges forward, and I dive for the nearest handhold. We're running, running far faster than I've ever seen the ship move. The engines below my feet scream, and when I lean out over the edge of the deck, I spot Bao's figure keeping pace with us in the depths.
He's gotten so big
, I marvel.

Rotors scream to my left as four glistening black quadcopters drop from the sky in formation, their hulls streaked with SRCese gold and red. A screech echoes from a set of speakers embedded in them, and in one voice the four declare, “Unregistered vessel, on the authority of the Southern Republic of California you are being ordered to stop and transfer the citizen you have unlawfully kept aboard your ship. Failure to comply will be interpreted as an act of aggression and will be met with uncompromising force.”

The all-call screams back, in a voice that's unquestionably Santa Elena's, “Suck my dick! Here's your compliance!” and the whole ship rattles as the big guns unload.

The Splinters weave across the waves, rounding out on the other side of the quadcopters, their barrels pointing skywards just as the pursuit opens fire.

The quadcopters' guns blaze as a clatter of artillery fire rains down on the
Minnow
's upper decks. I roll away from the open doors, pressing myself against the wall by the hatch. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the flash of hundreds of brass casings pouring into the sea.

The Splinters' barrels light up, crosscutting the
Minnow
's fire, and the copters' engines shriek as they drop back. Their formation changes—they spread out around us, two of them shifting their fire to chase the Splinters, but Varma's a step ahead of them. He disappears around the prow of the ship.

Is he using us as cover?
I wonder.

Then a thud rolls through the deck beneath my feet. Phobos fired, and the copter chasing Varma takes a direct hit to one of its rotors. The whole bird screams as it tries to compensate, spinning wildly and sinking so low that its underbelly skims the top of the waves. Another shell slams into the water, and the third strikes the cockpit, exploding with a blast that casts long shadows across the trainer deck floor.

I sneak a glance outside, just in time to catch the twisted wreckage of the craft disappearing beneath the waves. One down.

But the other three are shifting their attention to the
Minnow
's engines, and I'm about to be in some serious shit. The chances of a stray bullet finding me just got a whole lot better. My heart thunders in my chest, and the engines shudder below me. I raise one hand to my ear and press down. “Swift? Still alive up there?”

“Miraculously. Hold on a second.” Another thud rattles through the ship, but there's no explosion in its wake; the shell must have missed its mark.

“If I give up my position to them, their paradigm will shift. Their infra will recognize that I'm unguarded. They'll stop shooting at the engines and start trying to bring me in.”

“Cas—” Swift starts.

There are children on this boat. There are people on the
Minnow
whose only crime was being born on the fringes. The people on the copters aren't trying to spare them, and even if they do bring me in, they won't waste the opportunity to take out a pirate ship. There's only one way to save everyone on the
Minnow
.

“I think I can get all of them right up against the water at the back of the ship,” I tell Swift. “And then I'll light the Otachi.”

There's a long pause. Then Swift laughs, as if she can't believe what she's hearing. “I'll tell the captain. Give me a second.”

“I don't have a second,” I hiss. The guns are swiveling around, the barrels pointing straight at the engines beneath my feet. “Make sure she doesn't shoot me for this.”

Swift yells, “Cas, wait—”

But I'm already pushing off the wall, sprinting for the edge of the deck, my fingers fumbling with the straps of my right-hand Otachi. I strip it off, toss it over my shoulder, swing my arms up, and dive headfirst into the sea.

The water thrums with the beat of the rotors overhead, and I turn end over end, my fingertips scrabbling for the dials on my wrist. I twist them, the device comes to life, and a beam of light blasts down into the depths as the sound of Bao's homing call rattles out after it. With the saltwater burning my eyes, I can't keep them open long enough to see if he responds.

I can only pray now.

With two quick pumps of my legs, I break the surface again and immediately fling up my bare arm, waving it wildly back and forth. “Here!” I scream over the roar of the quadcopters. “Help! I'm here! Please!”

Their infra must detect me; the gun barrels go slack as the quadcopters pull up. The
Minnow
speeds away. Over the wave tops, I spot the narrow hulls of the Splinters peeling off and heading back my way as if they're coming to collect me. I really hope they aren't.

“Please!” I yell again. With the left-hand Otachi weighing me down, it's getting harder and harder to tread water. I glance beneath my feet and find a familiar shadow rising fast. Up above, the copters start to sink. They're coming for me.

No going back now.

I yank my left arm out of the sea, throwing the Otachi's beams against the lowering hull of the quadcopter above me and twisting the dial to the aggression setting. I thrash my legs, trying to propel myself out of the way. The water beneath me swells.

I slide clear with inches to spare, caught in a tumult of water as Bao breaches clean out of the NeoPacific, his massive limbs slashing at the quadcopter above. With a crash like a freight train derailing, he bats the copter into one of its fellows, but I plunge back underwater before I can see anything else. I throw my arms up over my head, trying to protect it, trying to make myself as small as possible. In this clash of giants, I'm just a skinny blip, washed to the side by the force of the wave Bao produces when he splashes back down.

I choke on saltwater as I try to surface again. All around me is noise and sea, and somewhere out there, a beast is tearing into metal the way a tsunami hits a coast. My whole body feels bruised, pummeled by the waves that keep crashing over me. I kick and gasp, trying to push myself away from the chaos that's been unleashed.

By the time I'm clear, one of the copters is inside out. Thick smoke clots the air, and tiny fires dot the waves. The second copter is limping back into the air, but Bao's not letting it go that easily. As it spins, trying to compensate for the damage he dealt to one of its rotors, the Reckoner lunges up, his beak snapping shut on the mount of the machine gun chugging bullets into his hide. With one twist of his neck, Bao turns the quadcopter end over end, slamming down into the wreckage of its fellow as he falls on top of it, his claws ripping at its steel-plated hull.

The third copter's a fast-retreating speck on the horizon.

I float on my back, watching it get smaller and smaller, a sinking feeling overtaking my stomach. That bird carries people who saw me alive. Saw me throw myself from the
Minnow
. Saw me turn the Otachi on the copters.

Saw me summon a beast from the depths to crush the people trying to bring me home.

I flash the Otachi at Bao, and the Reckoner's head snaps toward me. His vast, reptilian eyes narrow to slits, his blowholes flaring as he lets a slice of the copter's hull slip from his mouth. I can see the gears in his brain working. He's flushed with rage, filled with the need to savage, but the lights that blaze from my wrist are calling him in a way he can't ignore. I silently plead with him not to reconcile the two impulses on me. If I can attract him, if I can just pull him away from the wreckage, there might be survivors.

I might be able to spare a few of the people I just tried to slaughter.

I never meant for it to go this far. My stomach twists and surges, and before I can swallow it back, I'm emptying my guts in the ocean. I struggle to keep the Otachi level as I retch, but Bao's losing interest in the beams. He lowers his beak back into the water, prowling closer to the quadcopter's ragged hull.