Cytonic (Skyward #3)(36)

We fell silent for a while, then Chet spoke, his voice softer. “I once had a ship in here. I decided to fly it all the way to the lightburst—to get out that way, if I could, and return to whatever life I’d left behind. But…I lost myself, flying. I think that’s when I finally lost the last of my memories of my family, you see. Out there on your own, you don’t have anything to remind you of who you are.



“Down on the fragments, everything—the stones, the structures, the trees—helps somehow. It grounds us, one might say. Ha! At any rate, I think we two will be fine flying together. We’ll have each other, plus your icon. It should be enough. Should be…”

Chet trailed off and I shivered, imagining losing so much. I had to stay focused. Find my answers and get home. It had been…how long since I’d entered the nowhere? Maybe a week?

How many times have I slept? I wondered. Three? Or has it been four?

It was unnerving that I couldn’t remember. So I focused on the upcoming mission. “We’ll send M-Bot to do some reconnaissance once we’re on the pirate faction’s fragment,” I told Chet. “They may not be a true military, but they’ve got to be somewhat competent to have stolen ships and kept them.”

“That is true,” Chet said. “I agree. Expect them to be modestly capable, but not military trained.”

“I’ll bet they sleep in shifts and have scouts on duty to watch for anyone approaching, even on foot. So we have two options, as I see it. The first is to hit them when most of their numbers are away during a fight. During a battle, the people they leave behind might be distracted enough for us to get in and steal a ship.”

“Assuming all the ships aren’t away at the fight,” he said, “denying us our opportunity for larceny.”

“I suspect they’ll be smart enough to leave reserves—and if not, there will be ships in their hangars undergoing maintenance. M-Bot should be able to determine which of them are in flying shape.”

“Still sounds dangerous,” Chet said, leaning back in his makeshift bed. “I assume they would be more alert during a fight, not less.”

“Well, our second option is to strike during a long shift when most of them are asleep. We move in stealthily, have M-Bot hack through a ship’s security, then fly out with our prize before anyone knows what’s happening.”



“They’ll give chase,” Chet noted.

“Trust me, Chet,” I said, “I might not know how to build a raft, but I won’t have trouble outflying anyone in that group.”

“Marvelous! I shall look forward to our flight, then.”

M-Bot came zipping back. “I used infrared scanners to search for warm life forms, and didn’t find anything larger than a worm,” he announced. “No chipmunks, zombified or otherwise.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“That…wasn’t a ‘made you look’ joke, was it?” he asked. “Sending me out to look for things? I can’t tell.”

I’d completely forgotten about pranking him that once, so it took me a moment to remember what he was referencing. “No joke,” I promised him. “We really did want you to look for dangers on this fragment.”

“Thanks,” he said, then flew off again, likely to begin searching for mushrooms. I sat there for a while, staring upward…

Then I jumped when M-Bot returned.

How…how long had I just been sitting there, not noticing the passage of time? Chet was already asleep.

I couldn’t tell. It could have been a minute, could have been an hour. But M-Bot had seven different mushroom samples in his grabber claws and was laying them out to catalog them. So…scud.

I turned over in my bed, worried about that sudden passage of time. Gran-Gran had told me about a man who’d accidentally slept for hundreds of years. That wouldn’t happen to me, would it? Normally a thought like that might have kept me awake. But this time I fell right to sleep.





Floating.

I quested out, searching as I had before. Like on other nights, I didn’t find anything. I was nearly pulled down by my own tiredness again.

But no. No, I was Defiant. Plus, I was better with my powers than I’d ever been. I was stronger than sleep, stronger than my own worst instincts. Strong enough to…

Push through. I latched onto the familiar sensation of Jorgen’s mind and pulled myself toward it.

This time I interrupted him shaving.

He jumped as he saw me suddenly reflected in his mirror, standing beside him in the lavish bathroom. It had two sinks. He was wearing a towel, fortunately, but I do have to say…boy took care of himself. Mandatory PT for pilots didn’t give a fellow pecs like that, not without some extra reps at the gym.

“Spin!” he snapped. “This is not a good time.”

“Oh, and last time was better?” I said, folding my arms and refusing to be embarrassed. “At least you’re not getting shot at.”

He reached for his towel to wipe away the shaving suds covering half his face, then—wisely—stopped. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to snap at you. You certainly couldn’t have known you’d find me in a compromising position.”