Cytonic (The Skyward Series Book 3)

As soon as our base came into view, I hit my overburn and pulled ahead of the others. I could see the destructor fire spraying through the nowhere, beautiful and bright. My body came alive, and my mind—which had been reeling from what I’d experienced—snapped to full alert.

This was what I’d been made for.

“Hang on, Chet,” I said, and we screamed into the fight, flying to the sound of wind on wings and boosters roaring. It had taken us precious minutes to arrive, and I counted three of our fighters already locked up, drifting aimlessly. Scud. With ten total fighters, and the five of us gone, the remaining two stragglers were facing overwhelming odds.

M-Bot highlighted enemy ships, friendlies, and downed friendlies on my proximity display. By the markings on the enemy fighters, these were from the Jolly Rogers. The faction led by Peg’s son Gremm—and the one she’d expected to send a raid to test my abilities.

Excellent.

M-Bot suggested a few targets—circling starfighters that were flying slower than the others and one that had just taken a hit to its shield. As much as I wanted a challenge—and to go for the stronger enemies first—that could lead to my team getting overwhelmed.

So, steeling myself, I took one of M-Bot’s suggestions and swooped in behind a pair of fighters that were tailing Gibsey, one of our pilots from Flintlock Flight. The two enemy pilots barely responded to my arrival. One swung a little to the side so that if I fired, I’d risk my stray shots hitting my ally.

For a brief second, I was confused. That was it?

I’m used to fighting Superiority ships that recognize me as an enemy ace, I realized. They highlight me in battle, devoting extra resources to me. But this was my first time fighting rival pirates. They had come to test me, but they didn’t seem to expect too much.

Time to send them my calling card. I sniped the one who had moved to the side, each of my shots landing with precision. The pilot belatedly panicked, pulling up—and slammed square into my next shot. You always want to pull up. It’s instinct, even in space when there’s no ground below.

I buzzed around the now-frozen enemy ship, firing at the second ship tailing Gibsey—which was the ship that M-Bot had highlighted as having a weakened shield. My shots rattled the enemy pilot, who broke off and dodged to the right.

“You,” I whispered, “shall know the taste of my steel. And I shall know the taste of your blood.”

Yes, those kinds of phrases still slipped out now and then. No, I wasn’t embarrassed. They helped me focus.

I wove after the ship as they dodged around the fragment. They crossed underneath, with me tight behind them, then came up around the other side on a pivot. I could sense their increasing panic as I used my light-lance to swing around more quickly, my GravCaps easily compensating for the g-forces.

My prey cut one direction, then the other. It was an ostensibly smart move—if they jerked around randomly, I couldn’t anticipate where they’d be. Except, as with pulling up, people who think they’re acting randomly rarely are. Cobb had drilled this into my brain time and time again. Instead of “random” motions, we practiced sequences of maneuvers deliberately designed to frustrate enemies.

Training always trumped haphazardness. My prey jerked back and forth, and I’m sure it felt random to them—but I picked them off with three expert shots anyway. Chet let out a whoop, and I left the enemy ship frozen and swerved into the firefight. Here, I got in an admittedly lucky shot on a ship that M-Bot highlighted, but I wasn’t going to complain. Three “kills” in under five minutes?

Scud, it felt good to be back in the cockpit. Fighting alongside friends again. Doing what I was meant to do.

Nearby, I noticed some of the enemy ships forming up into a proper flight. “Cutlass Flight,” I said, “track my position. I’m about to give you a group of juicy targets.”

The four enemy ships spun around, orienting toward me. Working together was a good idea, but these obviously hadn’t drilled on ideal ship distance. As I’d recently taught the Broadsiders, when you flew in a formation, you wanted to be just far enough away from one another to protect against IMP blasts.

I went barreling toward them, slamming my overburn. They landed a few shots on me, which was fine. As I darted through the middle of the quartet, I hit my IMP. They reacted too slowly, and I caught three of the four—which M-Bot obligingly painted on the display for me—dropping their shields.

As I’d suggested, Peg and the members of Cutlass Flight focused on these ships. Sprays of destructor fire lit the air behind me, and I found myself grinning. The fighting here reminded me of something…

Training with the holographic projectors, I realized. That was the last time I flew without fearing for my life.

“That was quite the stunt, Spin,” Peg said over the comm. “Can’t decide if you’re growing muluns or hemels.”

“That’s nothing, Captain,” I said, spinning into evasive maneuvers as someone took shots at me. “You should see me do something like that when we’re fighting for our lives. It’s way more stupid then.”

“I can imagine,” she said. “You need a wingmate?”

“Nah. You and Maksim might want to go help Gibsey though. He’s somehow picked up two more tails.”

I still had my own tail. M-Bot helpfully pointed out this was the one ship from a moment ago that I hadn’t IMPed. Which meant they had a shield and I didn’t.

Huh. They were sticking to me pretty well. In fact—

A couple bolts of blue destructor light grazed my canopy, inches from connecting. Scud. This one was actually good.

My grin widened. I slammed on my overburn, sat back in my seat, and really got into it. There was no way I’d be able to restore my shield to duel them properly—that required precious seconds sitting still. So instead I focused on outflying my enemy.

The next few minutes were a glorious chase through the battlefield, swerving and swooping, light-lancing around fragments, buzzing the Broadsider base. That tail stayed on me, as if proving a point. They soon left off shooting though.

Waiting for the perfect shot, eh? I thought. Well, I’m not going to give you one.

I pulled up for a while, soaring into the pink-white sky. Then I turned and dove. My new ship’s GravCaps absorbed the worst of the g-forces, but I was still slammed with them as I accelerated downward. That had me grinning. Yes, g-forces suck, but at this point they were an old friend. All the blood pushing to the back of my body, threatening to claim my eyesight—then my consciousness…

I soared past my tail, then pulled up at just the right moment. A glance at the monitor showed me Chet’s head rolling on his neck. He shook himself, coming alert. Seemed I’d knocked him out in that maneuver. I’d have to be a little more careful.

Yet even despite all of that, my enemy kept with me. They were good. So I roared back into the snarl of fighting ships—and then started blasting an enemy ship that had been gunning for Shiver, knocking out its shields. I then took to the side, drawing a bead on another ship, and fired and locked it up.

My tail finally unloaded on me, firing wildly instead of waiting for the right moment.

Great, now I just—

My ship jolted. The control panel went dark and the controls locked up. I found myself hovering forward at a steady pace, nothing working, as that enemy ace buzzed my ship. Scud, I’d been hit. I checked Chet’s vitals on my monitor—he was fine, by the numbers—so I sat back in my seat, then laughed.

“Spensa?” M-Bot asked. “Oh my. Is the stress causing your emotions to erupt irrationally? Oh! I’ve felt that now. Um, what do I say? Let’s see… Humm…”

“I’m great,” I said, wiping my eyes.

“No, no. I need the correct words…”

I stretched forward in my seat, trying to get a visual on that ace. Fighting was fun, but knowing there was someone in here who could match me? That was even more exciting.

“Ah!” M-Bot said. “I’ve got it. Spensa. Feel better, please.”

“Okay,” I said, smiling. “I already do.”

“Success! I’m going to remember that one.”

“Chet, how are you feeling?” I asked him.

“Enthused,” he said, his voice wan, “but nauseous and…embarrassed. I fear I lost consciousness earlier.”

“It happens to all of us,” I said. “No need to be embarrassed. You should have seen me on my first days in the centrifuge back home.”

“Well,” he said, “I know you’ve said I was a pilot, but those experiences are lost to me. My current disposition is one of profound respect for the ground, I must admit.”

“I’ll try to avoid towing you into any more of these,” I said. “M-Bot, who was that enemy pilot?”

“Peg’s son, Gremm,” M-Bot said. “She indicated he wouldn’t join the fight, but by the markings on that ship, she was wrong.”

So I’d had my first brush with the champion. I grinned. Though he’d beaten me, that hadn’t been a true duel. I’d lost my shield fighting his companions.

He would see my true potential when we faced off. “How are you, M-Bot?” I asked, turning and scanning the sky, trying to gauge the progress of the battle. “That hit didn’t fry you or anything?”

“Fortunately,” M-Bot said, “the modifications we made to insulate my core systems appear to have worked.”

“I’m glad.”

“It honestly wouldn’t take too much effort to insulate all of the systems,” he continued, “so we won’t get locked up in fights like this.”

“What would be the sport in that?” Chet asked.

“Sport?” M-Bot said. “It’s not a game.”

“It is though,” I said. “As long as everyone plays by the same rules, nobody has to die.”

“From what I understand of the interactions between sapient beings,” M-Bot said, “someone is eventually going to seek an extra advantage. I’m shocked it hasn’t happened already, regardless of what Peg indicated.”

“Maybe,” I said. “You ever study small-group battles between tribes of early humans?”

“No.”

“You should. I think you’d be surprised by what kinds of rules a society will follow, when the stakes are different.”

Smaller groups of hunter-gatherers on Old Earth had rarely engaged in lethal combat. Their numbers had been too small, their communities too tight-knit. Yes, occasionally someone had died during their conflicts, but mostly the battles had been about boasting and intimidation.

Cobb had used this lesson to indicate that human nature wasn’t to fight and kill, which was why we needed to drill and train. But now I found something liberating in the idea that flying, the thing I loved, didn’t have to only be about killing. It could be about proving myself—to myself.

Behind, the remaining four enemy ships decided to pull out. Cutlass Flight’s timely return had let us win the day. I waited, pensive, as Peg and her son negotiated terms for the return of their disabled ships. They then began reactivating those vessels, a process that would take a few minutes.

Maksim finally arrived to fetch me, hauling my sorry rear back to the base, where the ground crews waited with some of the pilots who had already landed. A set of docking light-lances pulled me down, and I hit the manual release on my canopy, then cranked it open. As Chet and I climbed out, I braced myself for a lecture. I could hear Cobb’s voice ranting about how reckless I’d been in that fight. He always drilled good behavior, even when doing simulations.

Instead I climbed out to furious cheers and applause. Led by Peg herself, who—instead of berating me—grabbed me in an enveloping hug as I dropped to the ground.

“Four kills?” she shouted. “And three assists? Kid, you practically won that fight on your own!”

“The Jolly Rogers were sent running!” Maksim said. “You have no idea how good that feels!”

“We have our chance,” Peg said. “Gremm was impressed. He’s willing to duel you officially tomorrow.”

The others cheered again.

Scud. I’d been shot down, and they were cheering me? And her son thought I was worthy?

I grinned widely. How long had it been since I’d been this…well, excited after a fight? How long since I’d heard such joy from my flightmates? Last time I could remember was when I saved the DDF base from annihilation by grabbing the bomb. But those cheers had had an edge. A tension. Those had been cheers of relief.

These people were simply happy. I let their enthusiasm infuse me. It was an incredible feeling. And it was merely the beginning—because tomorrow, I was going to become pirate champion and give Peg her chance at uniting the factions.