The Abyss Surrounds Us by Emily Skrutskie

patterns of lights. Then I drop the fish.
    And that’s lesson number one. Come to the beacon, get a reward. I snap off the LEDs and step back into the recesses of the trainer deck, waiting to see what Bao does. Some pups don’t take kindly to sharing waterspace with their companion vessel, but this is an interesting case, since the Minnow is the only thing he’s ever known. So far, he seems to be comfortable. He knocks his beak against the ship’s hull a few more times, then turns and begins nosing farther away.
    Now comes the real test of whether he’s ready to start bonding training. I nod to Swift, and she plucks the radio off her belt. “Swift to navigation, get us moving at a slow clip,” she orders.
    The Minnow ’s engines are right below us. They roar to life, kicking up a steaming froth in the water as the boat crawls forward. Bao lifts his head, shuddering as the heat hits him, then starts to paddle after us. It could be simple curiosity driving him, though. We need to set a pace and see if he keeps it.

    Most of Reckoner training is a waiting game, and it’s one that makes Swift steam at the ears. She sits on the counter where I’ve grown used to sleeping, knees drawn up to her chin, tossing the radio back and forth from hand to hand. I would have thought the monotony of ship life had prepared her for a couple of boring days, but apparently there are better things to do today aboard the Minnow than watch a beast pup swim.
    Bao keeps the pace that the ship sets, and for the first time this morning, I allow myself to relax. If he continues to follow these instinctive patterns, his imprinting behavior will engage, bonding him to the Minnow , and the part that’s up to him will be over.
    Which means the part that’s up to me is days away.
    Bao’s cunning. He’ll learn quickly. He’s a Reckoner, bred to be trained. And I’m going to train him to kill. Not to defend a ship, no—this beast is going to be taught to hunt down and destroy innocent vessels. To ravage the NeoPacific, just like Santa Elena wants.
    And if I can’t escape, if I can’t get myself back to shore, it will all be by my hand. The possibility of failure hits me like a bullet to the chest, and all of a sudden I can feel it—I can feel the slug that’ll be put in me if I do anything to sabotage the captain’s plans. My heart thunders and my jaw locks tight. If it comes to that, I’ll have to keep going along with her orders. I’m too scared to do anything else.
    I slump to the floor of the trainer deck. Dampness soaks into my shorts as a small wave breaks against the side ports.
    â€œWhat’s eating you, shoregirl?” Swift drawls from her perch.
    A twinge of annoyance rattles through me. “Don’t play that game. You don’t want to know what I’m feeling.”
    â€œI’m bored as shit—I’ll listen to anything.”
    I consider. She’s the closest thing I have to a friend on this boat, even if she does want to gut me most of the time. And after today, I have to move back in with her. “I’m thinking about home,” I lie.
    â€œYou’re SRCese, huh?”
    â€œYeah,” I say, crossing my arms. “We’re based just outside of New Los Angeles.”
    â€œNever been,” Swift shoots back.
    â€œIt’s nice. Good beaches. Of course, it’s empty three quarters of the year. The coast’s lined with summer homes and hotels, so there’s not much in the way of permanent residents. But during summer it comes alive.”
    She wrinkles her nose. “Gimme open sea any day. Couldn’t stand living on a beach.”
    â€œOh yeah? You’ve never tried it?”
    Swift grins, stretching her arms behind her head. “Nah, shoregirl. Flotilla, born and raised. Didn’t touch solid land until after I’d started my bleed.”
    Of course she’s from a floating city. Now