Defiant (The Skyward Series Book 4)

We arrived back at Platform Prime six hours later, hyperjumping into the airspace above Detritus and flying in formation. And my cockpit was even more cramped than normal when we did.

Because I’d brought back two new pilots. In the shape of two large crystals, each roughly the size of a flight helmet.

“Is this it?” Shiver asked, her voice a crystalline peal vibrating from her core. “Is this your home?”

“Yes,” I said. “You can’t see it?” I’d never quite figured out how a chunk of crystal—a creature known as a resonant—could see.

“I require instruments to see through a vacuum,” Shiver explained. “All I can see right now is the cockpit.”

“Currently, Shiver,” Hesho said, describing it as we got docking permissions, “we’re approaching a large space station—flat, and shaped kind of like a large rectangle—that hovers in orbit around the planet Detritus. It is one of hundreds that orbit the planet—the place where Spensa was born, and the place that is now our home.”

At that word, the second of the two resonants—Dllllizzzz—projected some thoughts. She was cytonic, and had fared poorly during her time in the nowhere, growing quiet, withdrawn, even mentally broken. But today she projected images of happiness, rest, and satisfaction to me.

“Home,” she said, the word vibrating from her core, from just behind my seat.

“Home!” Doomslug fluted.

“She’s feeling better!” Shiver said. “Dllllizzzz is already feeling better! I resonate with satisfaction, Spensa. Coming to the somewhere is what she’s needed, as I always thought.”

I didn’t say anything, as I wasn’t so certain as Shiver. Dllllizzzz had communicated like this with me before. Still, the two resonants had long wanted to escape the nowhere, and so I’d decided to make good on my promise. Maksim—another good friend from the other side—had opted to stay for now. Peg and her team were going to need every ship they had for the task I’d given them. Fortunately, they had a few extra pilots to take over Shiver’s and Dllllizzzz’s ships.

“If Dllllizzzz wants to go straight home to your caverns,” I said, “I’m sure we can find a ship to take the two of you back to your planet.”

“No, no,” Shiver said. “If we go home right away, that will only alert the authorities who banished us to the nowhere in the first place. Perhaps sometime in the future—but for now, we don’t want to be a burden. I am certain we can find something to do.”

It took a little longer than normal to be contacted by the flight deck as we waited to land. Finally, Hill—one of the flight operators—called us. “Sorry for the delay, Skyward Flight,” he said. “Admiral Weight wanted to be here to greet you when you returned from your secret mission. He’s on his way.”

Secret mission, eh? I steeled myself, but passed the time by reaching out cytonically to the ship hovering next to mine. Kimmalyn’s ship, which carried the rescued slugs.

You have a friend, I sent to that slug. She wanted me to save you. Can you contact her?

One of the newly rescued hyperslugs replied with impressions of many slugs in cages, of a dark and frightening place. Of thousands upon thousands of thoughts bombarding them, shoving against one another, being sorted and sent out.

The communications hub, I sent. Yes, I know. Though the awful sensation was stronger than I’d realized, I did know about this place. How can I reach her?

Sorrow followed. The slug didn’t know how. The commslug reached out to others sometimes to comfort them in their captivity, but only when she was scheduled to contact the supply depot for another reason. It was like…she smuggled them empathy along with the data stream she was required to send.

Scud. I didn’t know how the communications hub worked, only that through some mechanical means, the Superiority could force commslugs into slavery, allowing the planets to talk to one another. And I realized we’d never rescued a commslug. Apparently they were kept under even tighter wraps than the hyperslugs who teleported ships.

That made some sense; these were the only ones that could work remotely. So why not keep them all in one secure place? Again, the Superiority proved its paranoia and willingness to rely on a few highly important facilities.

I needed to find a way to get to that slug. I’d promised her I would—but it might take until the Superiority itself was dismantled. So I put the problem aside for now. Any update from Peg? I sent to M-Bot, hopeful as I waited in my cockpit.

Not yet, he replied.

We’d waited as long as we could for her to proceed before returning to Detritus. That, however, had obviously given Jorgen plenty of time to find out what we’d done. We finally got permission to land, and I led the ships into the hangar we’d left hours ago.

I immediately spotted Jorgen in the long window overlooking the flight deck. He stood in a brilliant white uniform, hands clasped behind his back, medals shining on his breast. Face like stone.

Yeah. I deserved that.

As we climbed from our ships, I asked the others to take the two resonants and show them around the place, then see if we could get them quarters. I told the team that I would talk to Jorgen.

He didn’t move to stop them as they scampered away. I walked up to the window, and though I didn’t hear him bark the command, I could see the technicians inside the room flooding out the back doors. Jorgen remained standing in place. Waiting.

Well, I’d picked this fight. I would approach it with a warrior’s dignity. I used the side door, stepping into the ops room—which was now empty, save for Jorgen. I strode right up to him, then waited for my dressing down.

Silence. He just stared out at our ships. Giving me time to sweat—a time-tested tool in the commander’s toolbox.

I let the silence hang. I was confident I’d done what needed to be done.

“I thought I knew what it would cost,” Jorgen finally said. He rested a gloved hand on the glass. “That’s why I fought it.”

“…Sir?” I asked.

“I thought that maybe if I flew well enough,” he continued, “they’d let me remain a pilot. Let me stay on that side of the glass. Smell the engines, feel the hum of the ship, hear the chatter of my friends. Then…I was needed.” He closed his eyes. “I figured I could escape any order that tried to force me out of the cockpit—but I was wrong. Because I eventually got one I couldn’t ignore. From my own conscience.”

He opened his eyes and looked at me, finally. “So here I am. On this side of the glass. Maybe forever. It ripped me apart to walk away from my ship, knowing that—by taking command—I was giving up something I loved. I didn’t fully understand though. I didn’t realize I’d stop being one of you, and would become the thing you resent.”

“We don’t resent you, Jorgen.”

“You do, and you always have,” he said. “I was ‘Jerkface’ from the start. But at least I was with you. I was one of you, even if I was the one you grumbled about.” He sighed. “I knew I was giving up my dreams of flying. I didn’t know I was giving up my friends too.”

Scud. This was fighting dirty. I was supposed to be the one who did that.

“Jorgen,” I said, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Do you understand what it does to my authority when you, of all people, disobey me?” he snapped. “When you treat these bars on my shoulders like they aren’t worth the cloth they’re made of? You undermine me, Spensa. From the first day we met, you’ve always undermined me.”

I fell silent. He…he was hurting. I could feel it radiating from him like heat from a forge.

“I’ve tried so hard to ignore it,” he said. “I know your background; I know how you were treated because of your father. I know you have a problem with authority, and I try not to take it personally. But damn you, Spensa. Can’t you at least try to show some respect? If not for my position, then for me? You come to my rooms, treat me like someone you love, then you do this? How am I supposed to react? What do you want from me?”

“I did this for you,” I said. “I saw how the decisions were tearing you apart, and I wanted to protect you.”

“You don’t get to make that choice!” he shouted, waving a hand at the ships. “That’s what military discipline is all about. Come and tell me if there’s a problem, talk to me about it. Don’t hijack my most decorated pilots and go off on a scudding rogue mission! Don’t put me in a position where I have to either discipline my friends or accept that I have no authority!”

“They insisted on coming,” I said. “I didn’t want—”

“Is that relevant?” he demanded. “You did it, even if you didn’t want to!”

“And you went against Stoff’s authority in taking command!” I shouted back at him. “Because you felt like you had to! Well, I felt I had to do this.”

He put his hand to his face, trying to wipe off some of the sweat, and turned away from me. Looking out at the ships again. “The enemy has reinforced every strategic position,” he said. “All of the supply depots except the one you struck have been protected with dozens of ships—and likely an equal number of inhibitors. We’ll never attack them successfully now. I’ve called off the strike.”

“You won’t need it anyway,” I said.

He narrowed his eyes, his face reflected faintly in the glass in front of him. “What did you do?”

“I contacted the Broadsiders,” I said. “The pirates on the other side of those portals. For a small payment—ships we stole—they agreed to attack the mining installations from the other side. If my guess is right, Winzik will have left the installations vulnerable on that side, bringing ships through to our side to reinforce his position.

“If Peg and her teams lock the portals from the other side, then no acclivity stone can come through. It’s just as effective as destroying the installations on this side, but won’t require nearly as many resources from us. Or as much death. The mining stations on the other side will give in easily—they’re not soldiers. They’re mostly prisoners. With some careful work from Peg, I’m sure they’ll fold quickly. Without loss of life.”

“And you didn’t suggest this to me because…?”

“Because you’d have found it too risky,” I said. “You told me we couldn’t rely on a group of pirates led by a former Superiority officer! If I’d told you my plan, you’d have rejected it and insisted on attacking the installations, blowing them up, cities and all, to be safe. And it would have ripped you apart, Jorgen.”

“And isn’t that my choice to make? What’s the point of having leaders, a chain of command, if you just ignore it when convenient?”

I didn’t respond. Because…he was right. I’d always had this problem. I’d always dreamed of being a warrior; being a soldier was something else entirely.

Then again, the military complex hadn’t given me much reason to put my faith in it. Not even with someone I cared about in charge.

“You really believe you can trust them?” Jorgen asked softly. “That they won’t sell us out?”

“I know it for a fact,” I said.

“And will it work?” he asked. “These pirates of yours…they can execute a large-scale raid like this?”

“We should know soon enough,” I said. “Traveling takes a while in the belt, as they can’t hyperjump. But the other mining installations are closer than I’d thought. It’s odd; I always wondered why they hadn’t been spotted. Surehold is a massive operation; Peg and the others should have had some understanding of where the others were.”

“You didn’t expect them to be buried?”

That was one of the revelations of the data dump. Most of the mining operations in the nowhere were happening inside the floating chunks of stone. Vast mining centers were chewing through the insides of the fragments, sometimes towing new ones over and eating them from within as well. It was a clever way to avoid the attention—and the raids—that Surehold had drawn.

Unfortunately for the Superiority, that sort of operation also left the installations relatively unprotected once their location was known. I waited, nervous.

No news yet, M-Bot sent me. Hopefully soon.

She’d have to raid all four at once, I reminded myself. Which meant that she couldn’t attack until each of her four teams were in position. I didn’t want her to rush—though each minute of delay made me increasingly uncertain. Had Winzik realized what we were doing, and sent reinforcements through to protect the other side? Had something happened to Peg? There were still some pirates there who didn’t support her leadership.

“If it fails, I’ll take the blame,” I whispered to Jorgen. “You can tell everyone what I did.”

“That’s the problem,” he said, not looking at me as we waited. “I can’t. You’re too much of a symbol, Spensa. And too important to our fight. We need every cytonic. Even I have to spend part of my time during my command duties doing cytonic work.

“I’ve already let it be known that you and I planned this in secret, as we were worried about leaks among our allies. That will weaken our relations with them, but it lets you go without consequences, whatever happens.” He paused. “I didn’t do this because of my feelings. It’s actually in the handbook. Disciplining the upper ranks needs to be handled carefully, lest we risk alienating forces loyal to any given admiral.”

“I don’t want you to have to—”

“It’s done,” he snapped. “And it’s my decision to make. Unless you want to ignore even my ability to provide damage control for your recklessness.”

Scud. I’d have gotten angry at that tone if I hadn’t also been able to feel how much this was hurting him.

Maybe this had been a step too far. It was just so hard to keep it all in. Suddenly, the world began to vibrate. Another episode had come for me. I threw everything I had into stopping it, trying to control myself. I wasn’t a child, to have a tantrum.

But this episode didn’t progress like the previous ones. I was struck with a sudden overpowering sense of doom. I saw Jorgen dying beside me. I saw a shadow of him fall backward, bloodied, collapsing to the ground.

It was like the visions I’d seen when reading the memories of the ancient cytonics. I stifled a scream at the sight of him dead on the ground, blood pooling around his head, eyes staring sightless…

It was gone in a moment, but left me with an overpowering sense of loss and pain. It shook me deep into my core. And I was forced to wonder if it was some kind of terrible premonition.

Cytonics couldn’t see the future…could they?

I felt my own unbearable pain resonating to me as if from another time. Washing over me like a smothering darkness. I whimpered softly, teeth clenched.

Jorgen looked at me, and seemed concerned.

Spensa? M-Bot said. It’s all right! Peg just sent word. All four installations have been claimed. It’s like you said! They barely had anyone defending them; they were depending on being impossible to find. So they each surrendered quickly. Only at one of them were any shots even fired! Um…Spensa?

“It worked,” I said to Jorgen.

He let out a long sigh. “Well, thank the Saints for that, I suppose. I’ll let the others know; perhaps our allies will forgive us for our lack of trust, since the operation was successful.”

“And you?” I said, feeling a lingering sense of agony.

“That might take longer,” he said softly. “And it will depend on you. And how often you pull stunts like this. We can be a team, Spensa. Or I can just spend the rest of my life covering for you.”

He turned and left me then. I managed to wait until he was gone, then sank to my knees, rocked by the sight of him dead—ignoring M-Bot’s questions as I wrapped my arms around myself. Trying to hold on and keep from cracking further.