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.

The all-call crackles on again. “Splinters away on my mark. Three. Two. One.”

The pneumatics release with a harsh snap, and two bright white hulls split from the ship, plunging into the NeoPacific just ahead of me. I lean out over the water, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of the Splinters as they drop back behind us. I spot Swift’s wicked grin as she hunches over the controls of one and Varma’s easy smile as he slouches in the cockpit of the other.

“Splinters away,” the all-call announces.