“I see it,” he told her, as a burst of lightning exploded upward with a great boom about a mile or so to starboard. He could see Ani’s pale, excited face through the glass of her face-plate for just a moment before she wheeled back to face the creature.

“She’s a big one,” Ani said.

They’d passed several other floating giants since leaving the Azad Islands three weeks ago—this was an active area for them, and getting more so by the day—but Avery had to agree; they had been puny compared to this one.

“Why do you think it’s a she?” he asked.

“Cause she’s so pretty.”

Avery had to smile. From a scientific point of view, the squids that prowled the skies over this region of the Atomic Sea (on the maps, this was known as the Verragazian Ocean) were certainly fascinating, quite a different species from the ones that had migrated over the Borghese months ago, longer and tapering, gracile and white, but, as far as he was concerned, the creature drifting toward them was a perfect horror: spectral, unnatural, and probably hungry.

Sure enough, scintillating particles floated down from it to alight on the sea, and the water began to churn where they struck.

“Ain’t she a beaut,” said Janx, approaching.

“She is,” Ani said. She pointed again, this time to the shining flakes drifting down from the squid toward the waters. “What’s that?”

Avery could see Janx start to answer, then ruefully close his mouth.

“Waste matter,” Avery said. “It emits waste, which attracts little fish that feed off it—”

“Eww.”

“—then bigger fish come to the surface to eat the little fish. Those—”

On cue, the great squid tensed, tentacles going into a rigid cone, then, with a blast of gas, shot toward the water, disappeared in a geyser of foam and sparks and poisonous vapor, then rose again, a large squirming something caught in its tentacles, being drawn toward the great hidden beak; Avery could almost feel its chomp chomp a hundred yards out. The fish it had caught, assuming it was a fish—he thought he saw a glimmer of silver scales, and what might be a set of mandibles—thrashed violently as the beak bit into it, then went still. Gradually the animal, what little could be seen of it, vanished upward as the squid consumed it.

“Wow,” said Ani.

“Something, ain’t they?” said Janx.

Sailors gathered at the bow and began taking pot shots at the creature, passing a rifle from one to the next.

“Hey!” Ani told them. “Cut that out.”

The sailors kept firing.

“Why are they doing that, Papa?”

Avery turned this one over to Janx.

“For fun!” Janx said, trying to put on an infectious smile. This was difficult with his haggard face and blood-shot eyes; he’d been drinking heavily since the day he’d put a lance through Uthua, the being wearing his best friend’s body, and it hadn’t slowed after the Azads. “Hell, little girl, when you’re stuck on a ship for months on end there ain’t much entertainment to be had. I’ve been on some ships where ... well, let’s just say I’ve seen guys pretty hard up for kicks.” Avery was glad he didn’t elaborate. “Shooting at one o’ the big uglies is better’n some things.”

“It’s not ugly,” Ani said. “It’s pretty. Look how it shines. And you can kind of see the stars through it. See, around the edges?”

Janx gave her a wounded look. “I said she was a beaut, didn’t I? Well, didn’t I?” When Ani nodded, he added, “Folk like me—” he indicated his nose-less face “—have got to find the purtiness where we can.”

“And me,” Ani said, her voice suddenly lower. A small hand went to her own face-plate, and Avery knew she was imagining running her fingers over the small white scars that were ravages of the disease that had killed her. Avery didn’t know what to say.

“Honey, you’re a doll,” Janx said, saving the moment. “A damned sight better’n that, anyway.” He jerked his thumb at the squid, and Ani giggled.

“Doesn’t the squid take offense at being shot at?” Avery asked. Having seen this particular sport before, it was a question he’d often wondered.

“Oh, sure. And if the lads keep it up too long without droppin’ it, it’ll either squirt away or attack.”

“Attack?” He’d never seen that before.

“Oh, aye. What would you do if little folk kept peltin’ you? That’s part of the fun—nail it ‘afore it nails you. The trick is it’s brain is so small it’s hard to find, and that’s purty much the only thing can drop it.”

“And the captain allows this?”

Janx regarded Avery solemnly. “Cap’n is hopin’ it will attack—so his men’ll have to kill it.”

“Why?”

“Some valuable parts on those things. Why, the ink-gas alone has properties alchemists kill for, an’ the glands that change color—well, it’s worth the risk to some captains, and ol’ Greggory ain’t one o’ the best.” Janx indicated one of the two smoking chimneys, the aft one, where a riot of colorful coral stalks rose swarming with various fauna. Seedpores could infest a ship, but most captains kept their fruits cleared back—not so Captain Greggory.

“I hope they miss,” Ani said.

“I hope it goes away,” Avery said.

“Where would be the sport in that?” said a new voice, and all three turned to regard the speaker, who strolled toward the bow. Ani recoiled, shrinking against Avery’s side.

“You leave her alone!” Ani shouted.

The woman she’d addressed—Admiral Jessryl Sheridan, former captain of the whaling ship Janx and Avery had worked on, traitor and spy—reached the gaggle of sailors at the bow and said, “Let me take a crack at ‘er, boys.”

They turned, laughing, then sobered. They may not be Navy men, but she was an admiral. One handed her the rifle and stepped back. Avery felt a twinge of discomfort at the sight of Sheridan armed, but she made no move to use it on any of the humans. She examined the weapon smartly, checked the chamber, then put it to her shoulder and squinted down the length of the barrel toward the squid.

“Leave her alone,” Ani repeated, stomping her foot for emphasis.

Sheridan fired.

The squid fell.

Like a great diaphanous gown with its tentacles billowing up around it, the floating horror plunged toward the sea and splashed down with a terrific spray of water. The sailors, too surprised to cheer, regarded Sheridan in awe. They’d spent approximately two dozen rounds on the creature, and she’d felled it in one.

Ani stood paralyzed for a moment, then stormed over, and Avery had never been so proud. Sheridan, handing back the rifle to an admiring sailor, watched her come in shrewdly.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Ani said. “She wasn’t doing anything to you.”

Putting on a motherly smile, Sheridan bent over and reached out to pat Ani on the shoulder, but Ani flinched back. The girl stared defiantly up at Sheridan with her hands made into fists at her sides, and Avery and Janx approached to referee.

“She was beautiful and you killed her,” Ani said.

“She was an animal,” Sheridan said. “She would have eaten you without a thought—except possibly yum.”

“I should shoot you again!”