Cytonic (Skyward #3)(22)

A real swamp! Places like I’d imagined from childhood, listening to Gran-Gran’s stories. They were all here, each landscape in microcosm, inviting me to explore. As we traveled, I began to feel an exhilaration—and something more, something deeper.

Confidence.

It felt like it had been forever. I’d spent weeks uncertain of myself as I infiltrated the Superiority, trying to act like another person, lying and sneaking. I’d been terrified that my personality faults would cause me to fail the mission, and thereby doom my people.

It was so satisfying to be able to do something that I was good at. I’d spent a decade exploring the caverns of Detritus, and had trained physically for the task. I could tell, from the way Chet spoke and acted, that he hadn’t anticipated my expertise in this—and he seemed to find it thrilling to be guiding someone who could keep up with him.

It made me feel wonderful. Like I could accomplish anything. I would walk this Path of Elders, and I would learn the secrets of the delvers. I’d bring this information back to my people, and together we would defeat the Superiority.



I could do it. I really could.

I loved that feeling.

“Spensa?” M-Bot asked as we moved around the perimeter of the swamp fragment—the footing was more solid here. “You appear more…alive than I’ve seen you recently.”

“I’m merely confident,” I said. “That we can do this.”

“I’m not,” he said. “It seems like so much. Chet says we’ll have to travel all the way inward to follow this Path. Pirates, the Superiority, the delvers… It’s a lot, Spensa.”

“Focus on what we can accomplish right now,” I suggested. “For the moment, all we have to do is get across this swamp.”

“Well, that’s easy for me,” he said. “I can fly.”

“See? One step at a time. You can do this. I can do this. Whatever it takes.”

He nodded by wobbling his drone up and down. “Okay!” he said. “Whatever it takes. My! That feels good. To at least pretend we’re in control! I like it. Is this how you feel all the time?”

I wished that were true, but I didn’t contradict him as he zipped out over the swamp, looking down at…

“A mushroom!” he shouted, hovering above one growing in the bog. “A real mushroom, Spensa!”

I stopped to watch him buzz back and forth. Being in a drone suited him. There was an energy to his personality that came out as he flew around me in a circle.

Chet walked back to join me in watching M-Bot. I even caught him smiling.

“He’s really not dangerous,” I said to Chet.

“His energy is a little contagious,” he admitted. “We’re almost there—only two fragments to go. The portal you seek is in some ruins.”

“Ruins?” I asked. “Like from an old mining operation?”

“No,” he said. “Though we’ll pass something like that on the next fragment. The ruins we’re hunting are older. Perhaps as old as this place.”



“Have you wondered how all of this got here?” I asked him. “This landscape, these fragments?”

“Indeed I have. There are legends, naturally. People think hyperjump accidents are behind some of it, or even the delvers. But lore says that some of this was here before either delvers or cytonics.”

I helped M-Bot harvest a sample of his mushroom and store it inside his “specimen box,” which was the cavity in the cleaning drone where it once held the dust it vacuumed up. The little drone hummed happily as we started out again.

We reached a larger river flowing over the side of the swamp fragment. Chet directed us inward instead of trying to ford it. Though the current wasn’t swift, he didn’t like the idea of potentially being swept off amid uncertain footing.

We continued on, leaping from one firm section of ground to another. After a half hour or so of this, Chet halted me by taking my arm. He narrowed his eyes at the next section of land, then shook his head.

“False land,” he explained. “See how it ripples? Sinkhole underneath that patch. This way.” He led me through some still water, where the stench of the mud was terrible. Soon we reached another long section of dry land.

“Are there any landscapes you haven’t traveled?” I asked him, impressed by how easily he guided us.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s something out there that I haven’t seen,” he said. “But I have traveled a great deal! I don’t like staying in one place—you lose track of time in here that way. I prefer new sights, new experiences! I only stay with others when I’m out of reality ashes. Once I have a few, I’m off!”

After a little more hiking, I spotted our next fragment: the penultimate one before reaching our destination. This one turned out to be another desert, but with vast dunes as tall as buildings. I narrowed my eyes. Didn’t sand worms live in dunes like that? Or at least giant scorpions?



Before we could cross over, however, Chet perked up. He turned, then pointed. There were more starships in the sky.





Used to this by now, I joined Chet in taking cover beneath a large tree with crooked branches but a decent number of leaves. The tips drooped so low they trailed in the water, making ripples.