Cytonic (The Skyward Series Book 3)

Part 3

Together, Chet and I slipped onto the pirate base fragment. Our touchpoint was a good half hour from the base, so as we crept closer and closer, Chet showed me how to keep a low profile and stay behind tree or hill cover. We also sent M-Bot to scout a path for us, telling him to use his infrared to watch for heat signatures that might indicate a sentry.

As we crept along, I thought of what I’d seen the previous night. Once again, my interactions with Jorgen and Brade were crisp and clear in my mind—and I’d been a little more in control, a little more active in what I’d been doing. That excited me. I was improving.

The terrain here was dotted with scraggly trees that were like stumpy, Spensa-size analogues to the massive ones from the last jungle fragment. Various boulders and hills made for a poor killing field. I’d have set up my base on a sturdy, flat fragment with minimal cover. Maybe losing one of their ships would teach these pirates a lesson, because getting up close was way too easy.

I was getting antsy. Eager. If this went well, I’d be flying before the hour was out. Chet and I staked out a tree-topped small hill some fifty meters from the base’s buildings. Together, on our bellies, we inched up beneath the trees to where we could see over the top of the hill and study the base.

As far as we could tell, we’d been able to approach unnoticed. Unfortunately, we couldn’t rule out hidden cameras. It would depend on what the pirates had been able to salvage. So I watched for any signs the pirates were on alert. Their base was made up of three large structures, rectangular with rounded tops. Like old-school hangars. It was a nostalgic design but didn’t make much sense with modern starfighters, which were universally VTOL aircraft thanks to acclivity stone.

“Do you suppose they built those structures?” I asked Chet.

“Doubtful,” Chet whispered back. “From what I understand, the pirate factions each set up on fragments with preexisting buildings. Old outposts or the like.”

“Will this fragment have a portal?”

“It’s possible, but unlikely. Most do not, after all.”

I nodded, thinking it through. We’d seen how fragments grew—matter collected around little pinprick weaknesses between dimensions, eventually forming into these landscapes. I didn’t know for certain if that matter slipped in from the somewhere or was just replicated here. Did this mean…the caverns of Detritus had formed because bits of rock had slipped into the nowhere?

There was no way to tell right now. But either way, it did seem Chet was right about the portals not being on most fragments. Maybe those only formed on fragments where the holes between dimensions were “big” enough that cytonics could get through?

Well, for now I needed to keep my mind on stealing a ship. Of the three hangars, two were dark at the moment. The third—the one in the center—had its bay door open wide, and flashes of light inside indicated welding or electrical work going on. I was surprised to see electricity at first—but most modern starfighters had energy-packed power matrixes that could last years. Plug one of those in, and you’d be able to power the lights and equipment of a hangar like this.

“My sensors indicate two people keeping watch,” M-Bot whispered from where he hovered at my side. “One at the window directly ahead in the lit hangar. Another right inside the bay doors. If they’re using electronic surveillance, it’s wired, as I don’t detect broadcasts on any known frequencies.”

“They won’t broadcast carelessly, abomination,” Chet whispered. “Old habits will prevent them.”

“Noted, wart-eyeball,” M-Bot said.

We sat in silence for a moment.

“Okay,” Chet whispered. “I…I have to ask. ‘Wart-eyeball’?”

“I was going to call you wart-face,” M-Bot said, “as humans often append ‘face’ to insults, but warts are frequently on faces. I instead picked a body part that doesn’t usually grow warts—a way of implying your stupidity is irrational to the point of implausibility.”

Chet glanced at me.

“Him being weird does not mean he’s an abomination,” I whispered.

“I was more trying to decide if that insult rated a one or a zero,” Chet muttered, looking back at the hangars. “So, Miss Nightshade, how would you like to proceed? I believe your military training supersedes my experience in this instance.”

“Let me think and observe,” I said. I couldn’t get a good look at the pirate in the window, but they didn’t seem to be keeping a close watch. The other one that M-Bot had noted strolled out into the light, a rifle hanging from his shoulder.

To my surprise he was human, and had a patchy beard that hadn’t grown in straight. He wore a long overcoat, a T-shirt, jeans, and boots. Oh, and a hat.

A nautical hat. Like, a full-on tricorn.

I could barely hold in a thrilled squeal.

“What?” Chet whispered, noticing my grin.

“These ones actually look like pirates!”

“Indeed,” Chet said. “Human traditions have had a large influence on populations like these. From what I’ve been able to gather, our conquest of the galaxy made it trendy—perhaps a little exotic—to use human terms and fashion for outlaws.” He squinted. “That said, I didn’t expect to find an actual human among their ranks. Not a lot of us around these days.”

The pirate in the window leaned out and called something. They were definitely a dione—a right, judging by their red coloring.

“Looks like they’re doing some repairs,” I said. “M-Bot, swing around the rear and see if you can get a count on how many people are inside. If it appears safe, hover up to one of those windows and learn what you can about the starfighters.”

“Understood,” he said, and zoomed off. He was extremely quiet—that was why I’d been able to use the drone for spy missions. I wished we still had the holographic projector to give him some limited camouflage.

Fortunately, that guard didn’t seem particularly observant. He yawned as he strolled back toward the hangar opening.

“Miss Nightshade,” Chet said, “what we are about to try is much more dangerous than our previous endeavors. That guard is armed, and we risk capture or wounding.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

“As am I!” Chet said. “But I feel that we should, out of an abundance of caution, leave your icon behind.”

“Leave it behind?” I said. “Why in the stars would we do that?”

“That icon is one of the most valuable things in the nowhere,” he explained in a hushed tone. “If we are captured, I would not want the pirates to gain possession of it. Instead, I feel we should bury it here. If we succeed in claiming a ship, we can return at some future date and recover it. If we fail, then the icon will be safe.”

“But we need it to fly out there!” I said. “Without it, we’ll lose our memories.”

“It is the ashes that are important for our immediate travels,” Chet said. “With a pocket full of those, we can go months without any dangerous effects. And so, we can bring those with us and risk their loss—but keep the much more valuable object hidden.”

Scud. There was a logic to his words. If this went wrong, I’d be much happier if my icon was safe. But at the same time, I had seen the way Chet stared at it. I wanted to trust him—I did trust him—but…if he wanted to take the icon, then persuading me to bury it here would be a great first step.

I wavered. Chet had treated me with nothing but honor so far, but my concerns hovered at the back of my mind. He’d appeared in such an unusual way, specifically when I needed him. M-Bot’s old pilot, conveniently missing the memories that could help him prove who he’d been.

“Hiding the icon is probably a good idea,” I said to Chet, so he wouldn’t sense my suspicions. I fished out the pouch and made a show of dumping the reality ashes back into my pocket—but I also palmed the pin. Then I buried the pouch as he’d suggested, except empty. Afterward I handed him a small pinch of ashes. “In case we get split up,” I told him.

He stared at the ashes an uncomfortably long time before tucking them away, and as his attention was on them I covertly slipped the pin into another pocket.

Soon, M-Bot came hovering in from behind. “There are three pirates working in the hangar,” he whispered to us. “And one other person in an inner room. No other heat signatures in the building.”

Right. That made six total in that hangar. The guard, the one at the window, the one farther inside, and three workers.

“There are ten other heat signatures,” M-Bot whispered. “Six in one hangar building, four in the other. I think those are all asleep. At least, their heat signatures indicate recumbent figures in smaller rooms.”

“Probably divided into three flights,” I guessed. “Each hangar houses a flight, and one group is left on duty to watch every time the others sleep.”

“Agreed,” M-Bot said. “There are four starships in the open hangar, and one is being worked on by the mechanics. Six people. Four pilots, two ground crew maybe?”

“That sounds likely,” I whispered. “Any way into that open hangar from behind?”

“There is a small open door at the rear,” M-Bot said. “Probably to let air in during the welding.”

“Awesome,” I said. “We should strike while the other two flights are asleep. Chet, your job is to make a distraction. Can you do something that isn’t so dangerous as to make them sound the alarm, but which has a good chance of drawing the attention of not only the guards but the three mechanics too?”

“Possibly,” he said. “The Broadsiders are known as the most levelheaded of the pirate factions. I’ve encountered other guides or groups who have traded with them, or even been employed by them for a short time. I think it will be safe enough to walk up with some reality ashes and offer to trade.”

“How likely are they to grab you?” I asked. “Steal the ashes and enslave you?”

“It’s a distinct possibility,” he admitted. “But again, I believe it’s a worthwhile risk. I don’t trust any pirates, but if I were going to approach a faction in this manner, the Broadsiders are the ones I’d choose. They should be interested in trading, but will want to keep a good eye—or ten, depending on the species—on me just to be careful.”

“Let’s go with it then,” I said. “M-Bot and I will sneak around back. Once you’ve distracted the pirates, we’ll slip into the hangar from behind and hot-wire a starfighter.”

“And you’re certain you can accomplish that feat?” Chet asked.

“Well, little in life is absolutely certain,” M-Bot said. “But I find it highly unlikely that these pirates have security I can’t instantly break. I’d say it’s more likely that you spontaneously grow a wart from your eye. You, um, wart-eye.”

I eyed him. “Chet’s right. That’s definitely a zero.”

“Ready then,” Chet said. “Let’s do this.”

“Once I have the ship,” I said, “we’ll activate the weapons and force the pirates to lie on the floor. Run for the ship and climb up into the cockpit. We’ll escape, and then we can send M-Bot to sneak back and grab the icon.”

“An excellent plan,” Chet said. “When do I make the distraction?”

“I’ll send M-Bot to signal you when I’m in position. Then count to a hundred before you go for it.”

We shared a nod, and then I withdrew to begin sneaking around to the other side of the base.