Cytonic (The Skyward Series Book 3)

Part 5

I awoke to luxury. I didn’t think I’d slept a full night—but then again, I didn’t know what “night” really meant in here. I yawned, feeling…unsettled by my dreams. As I considered, I looked to the side—and found Hesho sitting cross-legged on an oversized chair right next to the bed.

“I watched you in your sleep,” he said. “To make certain you were safe.”

Awesome.

I mean, yeah, I realized some people would have thought that was unsettling. Not me. Alien bodyguard watching for assassins? Scud, how could a girl not sleep more soundly under those circumstances?

“How long was I out?” I asked.

“An hour,” he said. “I wrote the time down to remember.”

“Clever,” I said to him. “I’m going to grab a shower. Maybe wait outside while I do?”

“I shall be on the balcony,” he said. “The view is excellent. I shall also send for the machine-who-thinks; he wished to be notified if you rose.”

A short time later, I walked out onto the balcony wearing a freshly laundered jumpsuit, my hair still drying. Hesho sat cross-legged on the floor here, in his warrior’s coat and trousers, a small sword across his lap as he meditated. M-Bot’s drone hovered out here too. He’d sent it up—interrupting me in the shower, actually. I hadn’t been too indignant. I mean, in the past I’d cleansed literally inside his cockpit, so it’s not like he hadn’t seen me in that state.

I’d sent the drone out here anyway. It didn’t contain his entire consciousness; he’d simply decided to start using it as, well, a drone was normally used.

I settled down on the floor of the balcony, my back to the glass door separating it from the bedroom, and looked out. Over the red rock hills, inward.

Toward the lightburst.

That blazing expanse appeared like an explosion frozen mid-detonation. A gigantic sphere of light that felt as if it should be consuming all nearby. It was distant, but closer than it had ever been.

I’d assumed it would be my ultimate destination in here. It was, after all, a way out. I’d crossed pirate territory; I’d helped subdue the Superiority. Now only one thing stood between me and the lightburst: the region of the belt called No Man’s Land. The place where the delvers were strongest.

My short nap had only muddled things more. I remembered Jorgen’s voice. I couldn’t leave him, could I?

It wouldn’t be permanent, I thought. Just a…short break. A year or so. Exploring. Fighting. Keeping the delvers away.

But in here, years seemed to have an eerie way of becoming decades. I felt…as if I were on the edge of a cliff.

I had to be honest with myself. The offer from the delvers wouldn’t have been enough to keep me here, not alone. I had no reason to trust them, and every reason to press forward while my enemies were unstable. The desire to stay had far more to do with my own heart. And the emotions I felt growing there. Emotions that I couldn’t help but see as cowardice.

I tried to imagine the heroes from the stories laughing at my sudden indecision. But strangely, I instead pictured them understanding. I…I’d been born into war. I’d barely had a childhood. My father had died in the fighting before my eighth birthday. My heart had been flayed by losing companions while flying, though I could no longer remember their names or faces.

I’d never had any other options in life. It was fight or be destroyed. But now I’d seen that wasn’t the only way to live. It was the first time in my life I’d actually had a chance to escape the war. I had to consider it. How could I not?

Neither Hesho nor M-Bot spoke for a time; the three of us merely sat in silence. We were like an audience for one of the military parades back home. Except our entertainment was the distant, incredible burst of light.

“Is that what a sun is like?” I finally asked.

“No,” Hesho said. “I close my eyes, and the light batters my eyelids—but there is no warmth to accompany it. It is like the ghost of a sun. The corpse of one, left behind after all the heat has fled.”

“It is a little like a sun,” M-Bot said. So far Hesho had taken his presence as normal, though I’d cautioned the kitsen not to speak of him to others. “Only very wrong at the same time. It is much smaller than one, for example.”

“That’s small?” I asked. From how close we were, the lightburst took up a good chunk of the horizon.

“For a star, yes,” M-Bot said. “That sphere, gauging by my best readings, is a fraction of the size of Earth’s moon. It could perhaps be a neutron star if this were the somewhere—which would make Lord Hesho’s metaphor particularly acute. At any rate, it certainly shouldn’t be so cold for how much light it releases.”

I leaned forward and tried to imagine the feeling of sunlight. The vast majority of my ancestors had lived in a place where warmth came from the sky. I’d never felt so distant from them as I did at that moment, sitting before the strange light of the nowhere. Contemplating my cowardice.

I’d learned, in my time with Skyward Flight, that I wasn’t a coward in the traditional sense. I didn’t fear battle. I wouldn’t run from danger. But…here was a different opportunity. A way to run from the war, and even responsibility, in their entirety.

“The delvers told me,” I said softly, “that they’d leave me alone if I agreed not to continue on the Path of Elders. They even implied they’d back out of the deal with Winzik.”

“Curious,” M-Bot said. “Why would they make such an offer?”

“They’re frightened of me,” I said. “They proposed a truce. They hate my presence in here, but they’re willing to tolerate it in order to not escalate our interactions.”

“And if we continue?” M-Bot asked.

“They’ll consider that an act of aggression. They’ll do everything they can to stop us.”

“A dilemma,” M-Bot said.

“Not if I stay,” I whispered. “Chet wants me to join him exploring, and Peg wants me to train her people. Both made me offers earlier.” I leaned forward, my hands clasped, not looking toward his drone.

“How likely are the delvers to keep a deal?” he asked.

That question again.

“Hard to say,” I replied. “They’re frightened now, but who knows? We have no evidence that they’re trustworthy. If Winzik came to me with a similar deal, for example, I’d discard it in a heartbeat.”

“Curious,” M-Bot said. “Spensa…I’ll admit, I’ve been thinking of my own dilemma.”

I glanced at his drone. “What?”

“My old ship,” he explained, “had specific circuitry that let me process in the nowhere. That’s why I could think fast enough to…well, be me. But the drone…well, do you remember how I talked when you first found me in it?”

“Slowly,” I said. “Like you were struggling for each word.”

“I can only assume,” he explained, “that being in the belt lets me process quickly, regardless of the machinery I inhabit. But my old ship, the one that let me think so well in the somewhere, has been destroyed. I no longer blame you for that, by the way. I’m getting pretty mature, I’d say.”

I smiled.

“Anyway,” he said, “if we leave this place, what happens to me? Do I return to thinking like my processors are made of oatmeal?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It seems…for a little while at least…that would be inevitable.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he said. “For weeks now. And I’ve decided. I’m willing to go back. We have a war to win. I decided I’d try inhabiting the best computers we had; maybe one on the platforms. I think I’d make a good space station, don’t you?

“If not that, maybe we could steal the schematics that Winzik must have made while disassembling my old ship. Then we could build me a new proper brain. But anyway, I decided that if you went back, I’d go with you. I just…just thought I should tell you.”

Scud. He was braver than I was. I felt ashamed for not noticing the dilemma he faced—this worry must have been bothering him ever since we entered. Some friend I was.

Thinking of friends made me sick again at what I was contemplating. How would I ever face Jorgen if I made the decision to stay?

A part of me, however, knew I couldn’t focus on his needs, or M-Bot’s decision. I had to decide what I wanted. Not choose my future because of what any other person—even Jorgen—would want me to do. For once, I had to think of myself.

I glanced at Hesho, wondering if he’d chime in. For now, he continued sitting in his meditative posture, his eyes closed.

“M-Bot,” I said, “I’ve spent my entire life being indoctrinated into the war for Detritus. I don’t blame anyone—except maybe the Krell—for that. We did what we had to in order to survive. But…I’m tired. Of watching people die. Of giving up my future to a war. Of living my life with my stress at a constant ten. How much do I owe Detritus? How much is one person expected to pay?”

His drone hovered beside me, silent for long enough that I eventually glanced at it. For once I wished he were a person so that I could see the disgust in his face. I deserved that for the way I was talking.

Instead he was an AI. “I suppose,” he said, “that makes some sense.”

I had to be truthful with him. I had to voice it.

“There’s another reason that I want to stay,” I said. “I…love this. I can explore with Chet, and the Broadsiders practically worship me. It’s like living in a story. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, M-Bot. I can do that here. I can fly. I can explore, I can fight the Superiority. I can spar. Live…”

“That,” he said, “makes even more sense, knowing you.”

“Lord Hesho?” I asked. “I could use your wisdom.”

“Wisdom fled me, warrior-sister,” he said. “Wisdom is born of experience, you see, and I have none.”

“I sense wisdom even in that answer,” I said to him. “Am I a coward for preferring to stay? It’s not that I fear dying by continuing, it’s merely that…”

“You are tired of sacrificing what you want for the good of your people,” Hesho said.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“That is not cowardice, but selfishness,” he said.

I winced.

“However,” he continued, “duty should not be accepted without question. Duty can be a motive, but should not be an excuse. Does your fight uphold honor and virtue? Does it match your moral code?”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever thought about those things,” I said. “I mean, there was the enemy, and there was us. I pointed myself in their direction and let loose…”

That wasn’t strictly true.

“After living with the enemy,” I admitted, “I learned it wasn’t so simple. I didn’t discover that their cause was just, mind you. Only that most of them weren’t evil. They were merely people. Following, by accident, someone who was evil.”

“Excellent,” he said. “You have left behind the worldview of a child.” He cracked an eye. “How old are you, among your species?”

“A young adult,” I said.

“Then I might question the society that allowed you to persist in such naivety for so long,” he said. “Among the first lessons a warrior must learn is the knowledge that his immediate enemy—the person he must kill—is just trying to survive. Soldiers are alike, no matter their side.”

“I…don’t know that anyone among us knew who the enemy were,” I said. “Only that they were trying to destroy us. And…I thought you said you didn’t remember enough to be wise, Hesho?”

“It seems,” he said, “you ask the right questions. I do not know why I say these things, simply that they are true.” He closed his eyes again. “You are not a coward, nor are you selfish, for realizing you have options, warrior-sister. You cannot be defined by your questions. Only by what you do with them.”

Well, Hesho was the same person—with or without memories. What really frightened me, then, was that this was who I was.

I saw what would happen if I stayed. I would become like Chet. Everyone I knew—even the person I’d been—would fade. I’d remember only the stories, and I’d become more and more like someone who felt she was one of those heroes. I’d forget everything and let the part of me that had always made up boasts take control. In forty years, I probably wouldn’t even remember the fight for Detritus, or why I’d stayed.

But I’d love every minute of it.

I stood up and walked to the edge of the balcony, staring out at that great, brilliant white light—but one with a softness to it. It appeared to absorb everything that drew near. Merged them with the light…

I closed my eyes, and searched outward for my father.

The reality icon was still nearby. I assumed it was somehow his soul, though I had no real proof. Maybe that was what I wanted to believe.

Could I face him though? With this doubt inside me?

I felt him. That emotion that had been guiding me, supporting me all along. Was it really my father? I knew it wasn’t Gran-Gran or Jorgen. So…was it, maybe, God? Like spoken of in the Book of Saints?

The pin brushed my mind. It welcomed me. Wanted me to come to it now. Was I brave enough for that?

“Wait here,” I said to Hesho and M-Bot. “I’ll return soon.”

I walked into the hallway outside my room. Lights shone on decor that felt too soft to me. A brown carpet, walls with patterns on them. I closed my eyes again and rested one hand on the wall, which had an odd texture like paper. I was accustomed to smooth metal or rough rock.

I walked along slowly, my eyes closed, seeking that mind. Seeking my father. Before, I sent to it, you strengthened my memories of my life on Detritus. Can you do that again?

Curiosity.

Because I need to feel guilty, I thought, so I’ll force myself to return.

What came back through that mental connection hit me like a shock wave. It wasn’t the memories I’d demanded. It wasn’t condemnation.

It was permission.

A calm, gentle understanding. Like a warm breeze through my soul. No words, but meaning. It’s all right. Your pain is real. Your passion is real.

You can choose. It’s all right.

The emotion shook me. I sank to my knees, bowing my head. It wasn’t what I’d expected, and certainly wasn’t what I’d wanted. I needed guilt to propel me, didn’t I?

Yet the permission was insistent. Yes, there were some who would be sad or angry if I didn’t return. But nobody could ever claim I hadn’t done my part. The attempt at a truce with the delvers was plausible enough to accept. And even if it wasn’t…well, we shouldn’t be required to keep giving until we’d been wrung out. That wasn’t love.

I could stay. I deserved to stay, if I wanted to. That familiar mind wasn’t trying to persuade me. It gave me permission to let go, if that was what I truly wanted.

I pulled up beside the wall, head bowed against my knees, feeling that warmth flow through me. Until I let it flow out of me through tears. Like I’d been filled to the brim.

I couldn’t explain why I was crying. They weren’t tears of grief or joy. They were just…tears.

There’s no way to tell how long I sat there, though I don’t think the lost time was due to the strange effects of the nowhere. I eventually let it all leak out, and came to myself sitting in that muted hallway, unexpectedly calm.

I hadn’t made a decision yet, but I did need to hold my pin again. I had to know for certain if it carried my father’s soul.

Climbing to my feet, I went hunting, connected as if by light-line tether to that other mind. I took the steps at a reckless pace. On the ground floor, I entered a large room with tables almost as long as runways. Scud, was this the mess hall? Those chandeliers looked like they were on fire.

The mind was nearby. A few pirates were in the mess hall at the moment, including Maksim and a human who looked vaguely familiar. Had I seen him earlier? He was wearing a symbol of the Long Plank Faction.

Maksim gave me a friendly wave and I nodded absently, feeling…pulled…

I walked to the side of the room where, after poking around a little, I found a power outlet that was loose. I pried it off, and behind was a hidden alcove. Inside were two objects. My pin and a small, worn stuffed animal. It looked vaguely like an alien dog, from the shape of the face and the paws.

Both were surrounded by a scattering of reality ashes. I didn’t need a description to know the stuffed animal was the base’s icon. How had it gotten here?

We hid, my pin said—though more with impressions than words—when the fighting started. Some here would have tried to steal us.

Merely seeing the reality ashes immediately made me feel better. More connected to who I’d once been.

It’s so good to hold you, I said to the pin. Thank you. Thank you so much for your help.

In response, I heard a distinctive—and happy—fluting sound coming from the pin.