Defiant (The Skyward Series Book 4)

I slapped Rig down in the seat before the entire council. Once, I might have felt guilty about dragging him up into the spotlight. He’d always hated things like this.

Today though, he took it in stride. As if being on display in front of the leaders of three planets was no big deal. And…maybe to him it wasn’t, not any longer. He winked at FM. Like, actually winked. She winked back.

Those two were cute and all, but I suddenly felt even more alien than…well…the aliens. My best friend had fallen in love, and I’d missed it entirely. He’d cracked open the secrets of our homeworld, and I’d been playing pirate.

No, Chet said. We were learning. We might be something strange. Something unnatural, even. But we were not just playing.

Good to be reminded of that. Still, I’d missed so much. I leaned down beside Rig, who gave me a reluctant eye roll, like he’d always done when I’d gotten him into trouble as kids. That, in an instant, made the awkwardness evaporate.

“Rig,” I declared to him, “I need science.”

“You need therapy.”

“You need better jokes.”

“You need a better sense of humor.”

We grinned at each other. Then remembered we were in front of a bunch of boring military types. He cleared his throat. “What kind of ‘science’ do you need, Spensa? This isn’t like when you asked if I could turn your stuffed bear into a remote-controlled assassin device?”

“Not as awesome as that, I’m afraid.”

“Who were you going to assassinate, anyway?” he asked. “You were ten.”

“Ninjas,” I said. “Gran-Gran had been telling stories, and…well, I assumed my future would include far more ninjas than it has.”

“I might be able to fix that,” Hesho said, hovering down beside me. “Assuming the translator has the right term, in our language, for the ancient warrior assassins of lore.”

“You have ninjas?” I asked him. “Kitsen ninjas?”

“Indeed,” he said. “As the Masked Exile, I am technically part of their tradition. It’s not as practical an art as the stories make it sound—more a method of training the mind and soul. But as we bring peace to mind and soul, we learn to bring stillness to the world around us.”

I was barely listening.

Fifteen-centimeter-tall.

Furry.

Ninjas.

Scud. The universe was awesome after all.

Anyway. Plan. Saving everyone from the Superiority. “Rig,” I said, leaning beside his chair, which in turn was at the head of the long table of dignitaries. “When I was in the nowhere, I encountered a mining station where the Superiority took raw materials from the nowhere. It was a big scudding deal to them.”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “No acclivity stone, no ships.”

“Sure, but most of their travel is in space,” I said. “Acclivity stone is used to hover us up in the air on a planet. In space, we use boosters. So why the acclivity stone?”

“I think you know why,” he said.

“I want you to explain it. So everyone understands.”

“Well, the mechanism of the power transfer of acclivity stone and power matrixes are quite complex. Even a nuclear—”

“Okay, less science,” I said. “Give us the Spensa version.”

“Starships need to generate thrust,” he said. “It’s not just a matter of power. If we had to rely on chemical propellant…well, starfighter-size ships wouldn’t be possible, not without running out of propellant very quickly. Fortunately, we have a compact energy source in the form of acclivity stone, which can also generate thrust.”

“And it gets used up?” I guessed. “To move ships.”

“Slowly, but yes,” he said. “No acclivity stone. No starships. It’s that simple.”

“So…” I said, gesturing to the big list of numbers, “if they lose access to their acclivity stone mines, then none of this will matter. Winzik can build a thousand ships a day if he wants—but none of them will be able to fly.”

I looked to the room. They were considering this, based on their thoughtful expressions.

“The Superiority will have stockpiles,” Rig said.

“Yes,” I said, “but how long will those stockpiles last if we’re blowing up his ships? Particularly if we make certain to destroy the salvage? The Superiority is fragile in this regard. They don’t have a hundred mining stations in the nowhere. When I talked to those who lived inside, they said there were only four.”

“This is true,” Cuna said, drawing all eyes in the room. Most of us were crowded around the foot of the table. Cuna stood behind the crowd, hands clasped before themself. “You expose a weakness of our way of thinking. If we had a thousand mining stations, then it would be easy to let a few slip from our fingers. To keep a proper grip, the policy has been to consolidate and concentrate. Fewer but more impactful mining stations. Unused hyperdrives kept together in vast storages. Information routing through a few distinct points to maintain control. It was always about control.”

“It made you fragile,” I said. “Both from within—as proven by Winzik’s coup—and from without. Because you never imagined a world where one of the lesser species would be strong enough to bring down your mining stations.”

“Yes,” Cuna said. “We were wrong in this, Spensa. As we were in so many things.” They spread their hands out before me. “I am sorry.”

“You’re the only one doing anything to try to fix it, Cuna,” FM said. “I won’t say I like being called a lesser species, but at least you’re willing to change.”

“I like this plan,” Rinakin said, tapping the table with a bone-white fingernail. “It is bold, but strategic. It will preserve lives, but will also give us an enormous advantage.”

“If we can hit their mining stations,” Cobb agreed from the side of the room, “then they’re going to start sweating. Yes, they’ll have stockpiles—but right now they know for certain they can win a long war against us. If they lose access to acclivity stone…”

“Spin,” Jorgen said to me, “you know where the mining stations can be found?”

“I know where one is, in the belt of the nowhere,” I said, frowning. “I have friends there. But I don’t know about the others. They said there are three, but what if there are more—other, secret locations?”

“We don’t need to know where they are in the nowhere,” Jorgen said. “We need to know where they are on this side. If we strike and eliminate those facilities, that will destroy the portals—and effectively prevent our enemy from resupplying.”

“Agreed,” said Itchika, the kitsen general hovering on her platform above the tabletop. “Attacking anywhere inside the nowhere is impossible, or at least highly dangerous. But each of those mining stations will need to feed to a location in this dimension. We need to destroy those.”

Something about that bothered me, but I couldn’t quite figure out what. I stayed quiet as all eyes looked to Cuna.

Cuna shook their head. “I do not know the location of the mining stations in the nowhere or the supply depots they are connected to on this side.” They looked up and drew their lips to a line. A dione smile. “But I do know of an information nexus we can raid to get those secrets. If you are willing. I doubt Winzik will expect a strike there.”

“Perfect,” Jorgen said. “Then we’re agreed?” He looked to the others for their responses. They nodded one at a time, except the kitsen, who raised their fists in a sign of agreement.

Jorgen continued. “Winzik’s problem is that he’s ruling a vast empire. He’s stretched thin, and has an enormous front to protect.”

“We’ll want to raid this information nexus quickly,” I said. “Then get out. Try to cover up what we were after to keep him in the dark.”

“Then as soon as possible,” Itchika said, “we destroy the gateways they’re using to get into the nowhere. Cutting them off from acclivity stone completely.”

The group nodded. There would be fine details to plan, but I knew it would soon be time to get back in the cockpit. This time to do some fighting.