Cytonic (The Skyward Series Book 3)

“Leash,” it turned out, meant a light-line.

I’d never seen one used this way. A loop on one end was fastened around my neck, the other end attached to the wall. The control mechanism was locked tight, leaving me stuck. I’d sooner chew through iron links with my teeth than find a way to slice a light-line.

Though the pirates had joked about making me clean floors, they actually pulled over a box of parts for me, along with several containers of lubricant. They told me to grease each part and set them out on a cloth.

This was good. They could have left me to feel sorry for myself—and there’s no telling how long I would have indulged that. But when they plopped down the gears and made fun of me for getting caught, demanding I work…well, that made me angry. And anger considers defeatism to be easy prey.

I did as they asked, but as soon as I’d gathered my wits and my determination, I quested out with my cytonic senses, searching for Chet. I found his mind relatively nearby; I thought maybe he’d made his way back onto the blue jungle fragment to hide, if it hadn’t drifted away already.

Chet? I said to his mind.

Ah, he said, his “voice” laced with pain. Miss Nightshade. It is good to hear that you are well. I had feared the worst!

You’re hurt! I said.

Merely a…small wound, he said. A destructor shot grazed me. Nothing an old hound like me hasn’t felt a dozen times over! Ha…

It was bravado. I could feel he was legitimately in pain. And it was my fault.

Be careful, he warned me. Talking this way could draw delver attention!

That gave me pause. He was right. Yet I had an impression… Ever since that moment at the Path, something had changed about my powers, or my understanding of them. I knew better how to hide.

I closed my eyes and concentrated. When I reached out to someone like Chet, I could now see that I always did the cytonic equivalent of shouting. So I tried to focus, control my voice. I returned to Chet and brushed his mind with a soft whisper instead.

How is this?

Miss Nightshade! he said. Why, that is marvelous. How did you learn to be so quiet?

I’m learning just now, I said. But then, I’d always had a talent for hearing the stars—and the night before, I’d been able to catch thoughts Brade hadn’t wanted to share with me. I think maybe you don’t need to project your thoughts to me. Just think them while we’re connected, and I will overhear them.

Does this work? he asked, plainly trying to do as I asked.

It does, I said.

Excellent! What is your situation, then?

Captured, I said. Chained to the wall and greasing some parts for starship repair.

Could be worse, Chet said. What is the plan?

I haven’t really gotten that far.

Fair enough! Chet said. But this need only be a minor setback. In fact, it could be for the best! We must find a way to visit the next location on the Path of Elders, which is deep within Broadsider territory. I had worried about them hunting us down once we stole a ship. It would be difficult to find time to indulge in a vision while under fire.

But with you infiltrating their base, perhaps we can find a way to prevent that. Could you see if you can learn how they patrol their territory?

There was a certain forced boisterousness to his words. Connected to him as I was now, I could see that more clearly than ever. He wasn’t simply a bundle of endless optimism; he chose to speak this way deliberately.

You are in pain, I said to him. I’m worried about you.

Don’t be. Just focus on getting us a ship. Ha! Those pirates have no idea what they’ve done by bringing you in among them, I must say.

I found myself smiling. And…well, he did have a point. I could use this. Being captured by pirates was exactly the kind of awesome thing that happened in the stories; it was merely another interesting challenge to overcome. Plus, I was inadvertently being given a chance to practice my cytonic skills.

Except I couldn’t gloss over how my mistake had landed us in this situation. I had to come clean.

Chet, I said. I’m sorry. I messed all of this up.

You mustn’t blame yourself, Miss Nightshade, he replied. Sometimes plans don’t work out.

Except, I said, it was because of me. I…changed the plan at the last minute, sneaking into a different hangar than we’d discussed.

Why would you do that? he asked.

Because…I didn’t trust you, Chet. I thought you were going to betray me and steal my icon.

I felt the immediate stab of pain those words caused him.

You…did? Chet said.

I’m sorry, I said. I…well, I let my worries get the better of me.

Scud, it hurt worse, feeling firsthand his sense of betrayal. Why? he asked. Have I not endeavored to aid you in your entire quest? Have I not been a worthy traveling companion?

You have! I said. I just… I’m sorry, Chet. This is my problem, not yours.

I see, he sent back. Yes, um. Well, we must move forward! Let the past be the past, one might say. Um. Yes…

Never had words sounded more forced to me. I could feel his anguish; being trusted was important to him, for reasons I couldn’t sort through—I could only feel what was on the surface, not his deeper thoughts.

Well, Chet said. I will recuperate here, I think. You soldier forward! Yes.

I wanted to apologize again. I wanted to explain the way I was hurt by Brade’s betrayal—and the way I was realizing how bad I was at judging people. But he wanted to be left alone. I could feel that. I had to allow him that.

I broke off the connection, feeling sick and worthless. Scud. So I threw myself into greasing the parts and kept an eye on the pirates, distracting myself from my shame by trying to learn what I could about them.

Over the next few hours, I got a glimpse of what it took to keep a flight of starfighters in the air without a proper support infrastructure. Judging from the way they talked, they spent an incredible amount of time maintaining the spacecraft—and figuring out how to make replacement parts out of salvage.

I’d thought our settlement on Detritus had been ragtag, but we’d had the forges and manufactories. We’d had tens of thousands of people, and our entire society had been devoted to keeping a few hundred starfighters in combat. The Broadsiders didn’t have any of that. From what I could tell, they were under twenty in number, and flew nine starfighters.

By the time I was halfway through the stack of parts, I had recovered some self-respect and was focused on the problem at hand. Yes, I’d made a mistake. Yes, I’d hurt Chet. I needed to keep pressing forward, however. The best way to make it up to him was to steal a ship, then get us through Broadsider territory to the next stop on the Path of Elders.

Right. First step: try to learn what I could of these pirates. This was an opportunity as much as it was a setback. I turned my attention to the rest of the parts, and soon reached the last of them—a large gear. I set it onto the cloth with a clink.

“Hey,” I called to the pirates, “I’m finished.”

The human with the scraggly beard walked over, joined by the varvax. I kept extra close attention on that one. They were the race who had kept my people enslaved, and I couldn’t trust them.

“I could use some more work,” I said to them. “What do you want me to do next?”

“You want more work?” the human asked.

“Better than sitting around feeling sorry for myself,” I said.

After a shared look with the varvax, the human dragged over one of the landing gear assemblies, with the wheel still attached. “You know how to strip this and relubricate it?”

I nodded, fishing in the tool bin the varvax had provided. I wasn’t an expert in repairs or engineering—Rig had always been the one who knew that kind of stuff—but he’d taught me how to service M-Bot’s original ship during our days rebuilding it. I could handle breaking down a landing gear assembly.

The varvax returned to her work, but as the human turned away, I asked, “So what’s your story?”

He paused, then squatted beside me, watching as I somewhat inexpertly disassembled the mechanism. Was he judging me for using the wrong socket wrench three separate times?

“I’m not that interesting,” he finally said. “But I’ve got the same question for you. How do you know how to do this? Your master really let you play with machinery?”

“My master?”

“You said you were a thief,” he said. “But before you escaped you were a pet, right? Like me? A kept human? Or…no, were you in one of the research labs?”

Ahh…right. He must have been a human like Brade—some were kept as novelties around the Superiority. Like kings had kept lions back on Old Earth. Fearsome creatures from another world, turned into showpieces. I could imagine the “civilized” peoples of the Superiority being delighted by the dangerous humans who had once tried to conquer the galaxy.

“I’m surprised they put you in here,” I said. “You must have been quite valuable as a curiosity.”

“Yeah, well,” he said. “It’s all fun and games until your pet tries to steal the family starship and escape. Too aggressive, they decided. As if they hadn’t known what I was when they bought me.” He held out a hand. “I’m Maksim.”

“Spin,” I replied, taking it.

“Don’t feel too bad about being locked up,” he said, gesturing to the light-line. “The Broadsiders are a good group. Show the captain you’re not going to run the first chance you get, and you can work your way up like the rest of us. Hell, if you’re as good with repairs as you seem, you’ll be in charge of a ground crew before too long.”

I looked at the mediocre work I’d been doing on the wheel housing. This was what passed for being good with repairs around here?

“What if I never get to where I won’t run?” I asked.

He studied me. “You’re new in the nowhere, aren’t you? That other guy, your friend, he had a sense about him. Like he knew what he was doing. Not you though, eh?”

“I’ve only been in for…” I tried to remember. “For…” Scud. Why was that so hard to remember? “A week? I think?”

“Best not to stress about the time too much,” Maksim said. “Even in a group, it’s difficult for us to keep track. I’m surprised you lasted as well as you did out there.” He patted me on the shoulder, then stood up. “That’s why you won’t run. You’ll feel better here. More like yourself. You’ll see.”

He didn’t seem to even consider it a possibility that I’d been carrying a reality icon, despite the ashes they’d found. Icons must really have been as rare as Chet said.

Well, a plan of attack was forming. I could earn the trust of the pirates by working here a few days, all while learning how they patrolled their territory, like Chet suggested. I could also investigate the flight mechanisms for the various ships and pick out the easiest one to steal.

Then, as soon as I felt the time was right, I could grab M-Bot, steal a ship, dig out the icon, and be on my way. Maybe with all that done, Chet would forgive me for being a complete jerkface.

“Where did you learn mechanics so well?” Maksim asked. “And why would they throw you in here? If you’re this talented?”

“I’m not as talented as you think.”

He smiled. “I know it’s sometimes hard to open up. But if you tell us about your old life, we can remind you about it. If you forget.”

“Scud. That happens?” I said, making small talk. My mind was more focused on planning my escape than on what I was saying.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he said. “Especially if you have friends to help you remember.”

“Well, I wasn’t thrown in here,” I said, turning back to the wheel mechanism. “I jumped in myself. Though admittedly, I was being chased by a bunch of soldiers at the time.”

“Ha!” Maksim said. “They really should learn not to keep us as pets.”

I almost told him I wasn’t a pet. That I was from a human planetary enclave. He was so friendly, I wanted to trust him and explain that I was a soldier fighting the Superiority.

Yeah, that would be a bad idea if I wanted to steal a ship. Fortunately, I was slowly learning my lesson. Best not to tip off a captor to what I was planning. Of course, what if I was making a mistake by not trusting him? I’d been too suspicious of Chet. But not being suspicious enough of Brade had landed me in enormous trouble.

Man, I was crap at judging people, wasn’t I?

At any rate, the best option seemed to be to remain quiet about my skills. Maksim left me and went over to chat with his varvax friend, gesturing toward me periodically. The speed at which I did my work seemed to make them suspicious, and I realized that maybe I should have pretended to be more ignorant.

Regardless, I needed to contact M-Bot. So I decided to mutter and talk to myself a lot as I worked. It felt like a good idea to demonstrate to the others that I was constantly chattering, even when nobody was around. That way, when I eventually talked to M-Bot’s drone, it wouldn’t look so odd.

I kept stripping and lubricating the mechanism—trying to slow down—for what had to have been another few hours. Until eventually I felt a mind hesitantly pushing against mine.

Chet? I asked.

Indeed, he replied. I would like to speak with you. But perhaps we should do it the quieter way you did before…

Done, I said. But Chet, I—

Please, he said. If I might begin?

Go ahead, I said, forcing myself to hold back another apology.

I have been thinking a great deal about our earlier conversation, he said. And I wanted to admit something to you. Your suspicion of me isn’t entirely unfounded. I have been…disingenuous, Miss Nightshade.

In…what way? I asked.

I am not everything I appear to be, he said. It is difficult for me to admit, for me to explain. You see, I’ve told you I don’t remember being Commander Spears—but it’s worse than that. I…have been in here so long that I’ve lost much of my identity. Not only memories, but personality as well. Everything I was…crumbled away, like dirt before a persistent stream.

As this happened, I grew frightened. It is a terrible thing to lose yourself, and I had to replace it with something. And I remembered stories. Fanciful stories perhaps, but full of men I’d admired. Allan Quatermain, Lord John Roxton, Chet Cannister. As I lost myself, I…I filled in the gaps, you see. The line between the hero adventurer and me blurred.

And so, you are right to be suspicious. You perhaps thought me a liar, and in a way I am. Because I could not show you my true self. I’ve forgotten him.

Chet, I said. That doesn’t make you a liar.

Perhaps not, he replied. But the truth is…difficult to bear. I am not really a man, Miss Nightshade. I’m a collection of stories stuffed into a brain with no context, trying so very hard to simply keep going.

You’re a hero, I said.

If that were true, he replied, then I’d have confronted the truths in the Path of Elders long ago. They…frighten me, Miss Nightshade…Spensa, they frighten me. For reasons I can’t explain, because I don’t quite remember. I think part of me is hidden in them somewhere, something that terrifies me. If I were a true hero, I would have walked that road on my own long ago.

I didn’t know what to make of that. I could feel his sincerity, and his fear. Even his confusion.

It doesn’t matter where it came from, I said firmly. You rescued me, guided me, helped me. And now you’re walking this Path with me.

All for a fee, he said. You…noticed how I look upon your icon. I see now why you…treated me as you did.

I felt another spike of shame. Mirrored by his own.

We are quite a pair, aren’t we? he sent. I hope that being near an icon will help me become more…solid. That the reality ashes, and the tie back to the somewhere, will help me somehow. I cannot entirely blame you for worrying about my intentions.

My distrust hurt you though, I said. Still hurts you.

Yes, he admitted. It’s in the persona, you understand. I…I must see myself as a hero, the gentleman explorer, beloved and trusted. Because if I’m not that, well… Well then… That is all I have left of what I once was. Those dreams, those aspirations.

It was a strikingly candid moment, where I could feel him exposed, frightened. Scud. I didn’t deserve his confession, but in that moment I knew I could trust him. The face he showed might have been a patchwork creation of his memories of stories, but the heart inside…that was good. Solid.

I tried to project this to him, and it worked. He perked up, and in a moment of wordless communication, he accepted my apology. We would continue forward, we would walk the Path of Elders, and we would find the secrets.

I broke off the communication, then aggressively attacked the last of my work on the landing gear. I probably should have been tired, but I wasn’t—nor was I thirsty. In fact, I had no idea how long I’d been working. I couldn’t use my fatigue, or even hunger, as a way to judge the passage of time. In here, I often felt like I could just keep going. Forever.

That was dangerous. I was going to have to keep a close eye on myself.