“Thinking beings, huh? You’re all soft over a bunch of genetically engineered monsters, but those same monsters go out to kill thousands of people and you’re fine with it?”

My lip twitches involuntarily, and for a moment I forget Bao, forget training, forget anything but meeting Swift’s fiery gaze. “The people Reckoners kill are pirates. Murderers who sack ships and steal from the innocent. Excuse me if I have more sympathy for a trained animal.”

There’s something Swift wants to say. I can see it in the way her lips tense as if she’s about to spit the words out, but she curbs herself and instead mutters, “Can I try the thing with the lights?”

It’s the first time she’s ever asked to be involved in something related to Bao, and it throws me off. I don’t realize that I’ve frozen until she checks me with her shoulder, crouching to the level of the LED’s controls. “I, uh … sure,” I manage to say.

We’re in the beginning stages of training. There’s no harm in her learning the basics of the beacon, though I’d hesitate to teach her anything beyond things like “stay” and “come.” And it could be useful—if I’m out in the water with him and he gets rowdy, it’d be handy to have someone on deck who could throw him a signal.

“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.