“We’re a little tired of going up against beasts like your Reckoners,” Santa Elena continues. “We think it’s time to even up the playing field, and thanks to a fortuitous set of circumstances and some careful planning, we’ve finally got our chance. You have a very particular set of skills and the convenience of being presumed dead, and we’ve got a long winter ahead of us. While the ocean traffic slows and thins in the cold months, you’re going to hatch our little monster, raise it up right, and put it to work for us come next summer’s hunting season.”

I’ve been so good about not crying up until now. My eyes sting, and I shift my gaze to the ground. The implications are sweeping over me like a tidal wave. The Reckoner trade is founded on principles of balance. Ecological balance that keeps them from devouring the oceans’ biospheres and destroying oceanic life as we know it. Economic balance that ensures the Reckoner industry is profitable and competitive. Political balance that allows for Reckoner justice to be unquestionable on the open seas. It took decades to establish those balances, but a single pup on the side of the pirates could unravel all of that. And I’d be responsible.

“If it wasn’t clear already, your life is tied to the beast. If it dies, you follow. I don’t feed useless mouths on this ship. If your training fails, I’ll slit your throat and dump you into the sea.”

It takes everything I have left not to laugh. Five minutes ago, I was ready to die for my industry and my family. But now the balance of the NeoPacific is in my hands, and the last thing I can do is die. Somehow, impossibly, these pirates have gotten hold of a Reckoner pup.

And even if it means surviving when I shouldn’t, I have to find out how.

It’s the last smidgen of value my life has. I may have failed as a trainer, but the universe has a twisted way of providing second chances. Even if the last Reckoner I train is a pirate-born perversion, I can do some good by figuring out the pirates’ source and getting the information back to shore.

So I nod, keeping my eyes fixed on the wooden floorboards, on the tassels of a carpet that once lay on the floor of a lounge in the Nereid.

Santa Elena stands again, her heels squeaking as she pivots to face her protégées, and I glance up to see what she’s about to do. “Swift, you did an excellent job identifying her and bringing her aboard.”

“Thanks, boss,” she says, returning her captain’s sharp-toothed grin.

“Since you seem so dedicated to making sure this endeavor goes just as planned, I’m putting Cassandra in your charge.”