Cytonic (Skyward #3)(23)

“Broadsider markings,” Chet whispered to me as we peeked through the canopy at the ships. “We’ve entered their territory.”

“Are the factions that different from one another?”

“Generally, no,” he said. “But the Broadsiders have a reputation for being more fair than the others. Then again, their leader is said to have once been in the Superiority security forces. I’ve kept my distance for that reason.”

There were four ships in this formation. I didn’t recognize the specific designs, but they were definitely military grade. As we watched, they clashed with another group of ships that darted up from beneath the fragment.

A quick firefight ensued, the various ships flying like hawks and prey from one of the pictures of Old Earth, twisting around one another as they soared down past the fragment.

Seeing them fight awakened something in me. I missed flying. It had been only a few days, but already I longed to feel a ship around me—its motion an extension of my body as I soared around obstacles and wove between enemies.



Being in the sky. Claiming the stars.

I missed it. Dearly.

“Soon,” I whispered as the ships vanished from sight, chasing one another beneath the fragments.

“We should probably give it a few moments,” Chet said, settling on a rock there under the tree. “In case they come back this direction.”

“That was another faction, right?” I asked. “Cannonade?”

“Your eyes are keen!” he said. “Before long you’ll know the proper markings for all six.”

“Do they often fight one another?”

“Aggressively!” Chet said. “It’s a pity. They could be out exploring and adventuring, but I suppose I shouldn’t begrudge them a little sport. We all have our own ways of passing the time in here.”

Well, if we were going to wait this out, it seemed like a good opportunity to arm myself. I’d cursed the loss of my rifle several times already, so I selected a sturdy stick from those fallen around the tree and began stripping it. Once finished, I found a good stone, properly oblong with a narrow portion in the middle.

I tried to affix it to the stick, but my first effort failed because the vines I’d picked snapped.

“If I may, Miss Nightshade,” Chet said, unlacing his left boot. He pulled out a long shoelace, revealing another one still fastening his boot. “Always double-lace your boots when exploring! You’d be surprised how often an extra bit of string comes in handy. The uses are multitudinous!”

He showed me how to lash the stone in place—and then, surprised at my lack of knowledge, took out his other extra shoelace and proceeded to give me a short lesson on different knots and hitches. I realized, with embarrassment, that I’d allowed having a light-line to make me complacent in this area.



I listened with devoted attention. It felt like such a practical thing to learn—the sort of thing that…well, that I imagined my father might have taught me. If things hadn’t gone so poorly.

Once we were done, I tucked away the shoelace—he’d told me to keep it to practice with—and picked up my club. I swung it a few times for good measure.

“A fine weapon,” Chet said, hands on hips. “What shall you name it?”

“Skullbreaker, of course,” I said.

“Excellent.”

“Though…I don’t know if sand worms have skulls,” I said. “Maybe we should sharpen a rock and make a spear, in case I get swallowed and need to kill it from the inside.”

“I doubt that will be requisite,” Chet said with a chuckle.

“Say that when you’re in a sand worm’s gullet and I’m standing triumphantly on the corpse of mine, contemplating how to make a hat out of its skin.”

“Ha!” Chet said. “I doubt I’ve ever met a young woman quite so…bloodthirsty.”

I shrugged. “It’s kind of an act. You know, bravado. But I do want to be able to defend myself against any beasts we encounter.”

“If we must do so, then we have failed,” Chet said. He held up a finger, adopting a straight-backed lecture pose. “No beast attacks a person unless that person has made a mistake. We trespass in their domain, and it is incumbent upon us to take the utmost care to avoid accidents.”

“You don’t hunt?” I asked.

“Heavens, no!” Chet said. “Not except for sustenance, which is unnecessary in here. I explore to see the wonders of the universe! Why, to leave that wilderness so desecrated… No. An explorer must not be a destroyer. He must be a preserver! But then, I’m rambling. We should continue. The pirates appear to have taken their squabbles elsewhere.”



We continued on, barely reaching the desert fragment and leaping across before the two drifted too far apart. M-Bot seemed reluctant to leave his mushroom hunt, but he followed us.

Chet’s comments about hunting and exploring left me intrigued—it was the opposite of what I’d expected from someone like him. The way he talked felt liberating. Exploring, traveling…he could do that and test his skills without needing to fight or kill. It was a new way of thinking. For me, the struggle to get better had always ultimately ended with the destruction of my enemies. Or at least the humiliation of those who had laughed at me.