The hatchling was my charge, my responsibility, and my friend. I had to protect him. If he was hurt, I couldn’t leave him to suffer.

  “Open the door,” I said, and this time Hao moved aside, keying in an override code from the co-pilot’s controls. I should have thought of that. I had all the access codes on the captain’s readout.

  The door slid open, letting in a thin veil of smoke and the smell of burnt polymers. And, strangely, a stream of cool air that wafted across my face. Somewhere in the corridor, the ventilation was working and struggling to remove the smoke.

  The Bucket’s main corridor was a fifteen-meter-long, two-meter-wide steel coffin. The walls were dark silver. Two sets of reinforced girders stuck out from the walls, keeping it all nice and straight. Between them, doors. My cabin, the mess, and four passenger cabins, one of them Hao’s.

  The door to my cabin stood open, and the hatchling lay across the threshold. His long, slim neck was drawn out, his eyes big and black as the depths of the void. No whites, just black all the way through, absolutely blank, dead black holes in his head. Even his matte-black scales were glistening and shining in comparison. The only things that weren’t black were his teeth, which were titanium-oxide white, long as my fingers, and very, very sharp. I’d found that out when I’d tried hand-feeding him.

  “Here, binni, binni, binni,” I called, sliding into the corridor with my hand outstretched. My grandmother had called like that for her chickens. I wished I had something to offer the hatchling, but the closest thing was the kibble in my cabin. “Here, binni, binni, binni.”

  He bent his neck, giving me a deep, sideways look. At least I thought he was. His eyes didn’t reflect light, making them unreadable. A soft, cooing mewl came from his mouth. It made him seem kitten-like.

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  “Here, binni,” I said, taking the last step and putting my hand in front of his face, letting him sniff me. Behind me, I heard Hao’s sharp, in-drawn breath.

  “Careful,” she said.

  I ignored her, holding my hand steady. The hatchling sniffed it, then snuffled, his breath wet and warm on my skin. I brought up my other hand and scratched behind his ears, letting him lean into my scratching as I spoke soft, meaningless words to him until he let me come close enough to hug.

  He lay his big head on my shoulder.

  It was a motion of such trust, such openness, that it brought tears to my eyes. I could have choked him, broken his long, slim neck, and yet he trusted me absolutely. I kept scratching, moving my other hand in soothing motions over the fine scales beside the tiny crest that jutted up, starting at the back of his head and running down to the tip of his tail, a row of small, bony plates.

  “Hao,” I said, “go to the mess. Get one of the big sacks of vat meat from the freezer and flash-heat it, the entire bag, then bring it here.”

  “But captain,” Hao said, “the engine’s on fi—”

  “Do it,” I interrupted her, trying to be commanding without changing my soothing tone. “Do it now.”

  “What about the other ships?” Hao said. “They’ll—”

  “They won’t get here for a while. We need to feed the hatchling. Unless we’re about to die, this takes precedence.”

  “But—”

  “He wakes once every few weeks. If he doesn’t get food now, while he’s awake, he’ll starve.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “Please, Hao.”

  She was silent. I wished I could have seen her, but I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to startle the hatchling. I heard her walking, heard the door to the mess whoosh open. I settled my head against the hatchling’s, breathing in his warm, lightning smell, and closed my eyes.

  His warmth melted some of my headache away. I imagined I could feel the forces of magic that flowed in him like heart-blood. Impossible, of course. Dragons couldn’t be dowsed. The hatchling shifted, and I felt his tail curling around my legs.

  “Where do you want the meat, captain?” Hao said.

  She’d granted my plea. Gratitude washed over me.

  “Just pour it on the ground,” I said, shifting away from the hatchling, toward Hao.

  Together, we watched the hatchling eat, dainty bites that made steak-sized chunks of meat disappear with each swallow. After a while, I realized Hao was staring at me.

  “You are a very strange person, sir,” she said.

  “Thank you,” I replied.