Cytonic (The Skyward Series Book 3)

A ragtag bunch of a hundred different starfighters were arrayed around the arena. Markings on the wings or fuselages identified their factions. No other theme unified them—except perhaps for a sense of ramshackle piecemealness.

Several had obviously had their cockpits expanded to make room for a larger species. Others were bulky shuttles or other industrial craft—but with an amusing number of weapons strapped to them, like the “super-gun” I’d made as a little girl by taping six toys together.

There were also many with dangerous designs: sleek military vessels with integrated weapons and large boosters. I picked out Gremm, the champion; his ominous starfighter was shaped like a wicked crescent moon, pointed ends facing my direction. It was larger than a DDF Poco, but made up for it with enormous boosters and a deadly armament. Now that I had time to study it carefully, I counted five destructors on the thing.

“Peg,” a voice said over the line—my ship translating. It was a low growling voice, and spoke the same language Peg did. “Took your sweet time as always.”

“I like to enjoy myself, Gremm,” Peg said back. “And the simple things give me pleasure.”

“Like being slow?”

“Like knowing I’ve made you wait,” Peg said, with a laugh. “You ready to be on with this?”

“I would be,” Gremm said. “Except I’m not champion anymore.”

“What?” Peg demanded.

“I lost the title!” Gremm explained. “Earlier today. The Cannonaders arrived early, and I thought we’d do some dueling while we waited. But…I lost.”

“Fool child,” Peg said. “You grow hemels this day.”

I followed this exchange with a frown. “Growing hemels,” I was pretty sure, was their way of saying someone was stupid.

There was something…theatrical about the exchange. Gremm and Peg had spent a half hour talking in secret; she plainly already knew about him losing the championship. But now she had to pretend she didn’t know. Why?

“Well, who is the champion?” Peg said. “We’ll fight them instead.”

“Cannonade newcomer,” Gremm said.

Peg growled softly. Curious, I opened a direct line to Maksim. “I think I know the Cannonade Faction. They’ve got a heklo leader?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Vlep. They are…malcontents.”

“We’re pirates, Maksim. We’re all malcontents.”

“Cannonaders are worse,” he explained. “The other factions can be trusted not to be too brutal. But if the Cannonade Faction has the champion…I don’t know. I’d refuse to fight, if I were you.”

Well, I wasn’t going to do that. In fact, I was happy for a chance to strike back at Vlep and his cronies for robbing me. But there was also something very suspicious about all of this.

What game are you playing, Peg? I wondered.

Another voice came on the broad channel, snappish and vaguely familiar. “We’ll fight your pilot, Peg,” Vlep said. “My champion is better than any of you. He calls himself Darkshadow.”

Darkshadow?

That was such an awesome callsign.

“Ha!” Peg said. “Darkshadow? Really, Vlep? Well, hope his skill is equal to his flair for the dramatic. Because we have someone special!”

“They’re going to lose,” Vlep said. “Just like your kid did. I don’t know what you two are playing at, but I don’t trust you, Peg. Any of you.”

“So nothing’s new, Vlep.”

“You sure that newcomer of yours doesn’t want to swap to join us?” Vlep asked. “The Cannonade Faction is the only one that doesn’t secretly bow to you and your spawn.”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that, Vlep,” I said over the line, pitching my voice to be as ominous as possible. “All things considered.”

“Am…I supposed to know what that meant?” he asked back.

Scud. He didn’t recognize my voice. So much for my cool reveal. “I’m the human woman you tried to kidnap in the forest,” I said. “I’m actually a super great pilot, and I’m here to embarrass you for what you did to me.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he said. “Darkshadow, let’s humiliate another faction. Duel until lockup. Losing group forfeits their ship to the winner.”

That was high stakes for this lot. Ships were rare enough in here that they weren’t wagered except in extreme circumstances. If I lost, M-Bot would upload to the drone, which we’d brought along—so that shouldn’t be a problem. But there was a more important issue at stake—and it involved the delicate game Peg was playing behind the scenes.

At Peg’s urging, I inched my ship forward out of the line of Broadsiders. I kept my eyes on the most dangerous ships, wondering which would be the champion—so I almost missed it when a relatively small ship soared forward. It was probably around a third of the size of my ship, with a core fuselage so narrow that the destructors on the wings looked enormous by comparison.

I realized I’d made a silly mistake. Bigger didn’t mean more dangerous. I should know that better than most. This ship reminded me of the Krell drones, and they’d been plenty deadly. And while a majority of intelligent species seemed to be roughly human-size, there were obvious exceptions.

I eyed the ship, suspicious. A newcomer good enough to beat Gremm, the longtime champion? Who was this? A figment perhaps? That would make sense. A figment pilot would explain the small size—the ship wouldn’t need a cockpit.

“Arena boundaries are being uploaded to your proximity display, Spin,” Peg said over the comm. M-Bot helpfully outlined the area—which was in the shape of a tall column or tube. It stretched thousands of feet upward and downward, but was a fraction of that in diameter.

That would make for a narrow fighting area. Like…having a duel in a tunnel, or in a shaft stretching up toward the sky. “What happens if I go out of bounds?” I said on a private line, realizing I’d never asked. “Do I lose?”

“Nah,” Peg said. “What’s the fun in that? If you go out of bounds, everyone else can shoot at you—so I’d advise against it. Unless you’re growing too many muluns. You ready?”

I took a deep breath. “I know there’s something about this you aren’t telling me, Peg.”

She remained quiet.

“I’ll still do it,” I said, “but at least tell me one thing: do you genuinely need me to win this? Or is the championship about some kind of political posturing?”

“I need this, Spin,” Peg said, her voice growing softer. “I really need this. This is our chance at uniting the factions. There are details I haven’t told you, but that part is legitimate. I have put, one might say, all of my fruit into your cart. Please don’t drive it off a cliff.”

“All right,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

My screen flashed green and I hit the overburn, boosting into the arena proper.