Cytonic (Skyward #3)(40)

“Let me think and observe,” I said. I couldn’t get a good look at the pirate in the window, but they didn’t seem to be keeping a close watch. The other one that M-Bot had noted strolled out into the light, a rifle hanging from his shoulder.

To my surprise he was human, and had a patchy beard that hadn’t grown in straight. He wore a long overcoat, a T-shirt, jeans, and boots. Oh, and a hat.

A nautical hat. Like, a full-on tricorn.

I could barely hold in a thrilled squeal.

“What?” Chet whispered, noticing my grin.

“These ones actually look like pirates!”

“Indeed,” Chet said. “Human traditions have had a large influence on populations like these. From what I’ve been able to gather, our conquest of the galaxy made it trendy—perhaps a little exotic—to use human terms and fashion for outlaws.” He squinted. “That said, I didn’t expect to find an actual human among their ranks. Not a lot of us around these days.”



The pirate in the window leaned out and called something. They were definitely a dione—a right, judging by their red coloring.

“Looks like they’re doing some repairs,” I said. “M-Bot, swing around the rear and see if you can get a count on how many people are inside. If it appears safe, hover up to one of those windows and learn what you can about the starfighters.”

“Understood,” he said, and zoomed off. He was extremely quiet—that was why I’d been able to use the drone for spy missions. I wished we still had the holographic projector to give him some limited camouflage.

Fortunately, that guard didn’t seem particularly observant. He yawned as he strolled back toward the hangar opening.

“Miss Nightshade,” Chet said, “what we are about to try is much more dangerous than our previous endeavors. That guard is armed, and we risk capture or wounding.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

“As am I!” Chet said. “But I feel that we should, out of an abundance of caution, leave your icon behind.”

“Leave it behind?” I said. “Why in the stars would we do that?”

“That icon is one of the most valuable things in the nowhere,” he explained in a hushed tone. “If we are captured, I would not want the pirates to gain possession of it. Instead, I feel we should bury it here. If we succeed in claiming a ship, we can return at some future date and recover it. If we fail, then the icon will be safe.”

“But we need it to fly out there!” I said. “Without it, we’ll lose our memories.”

“It is the ashes that are important for our immediate travels,” Chet said. “With a pocket full of those, we can go months without any dangerous effects. And so, we can bring those with us and risk their loss—but keep the much more valuable object hidden.”



Scud. There was a logic to his words. If this went wrong, I’d be much happier if my icon was safe. But at the same time, I had seen the way Chet stared at it. I wanted to trust him—I did trust him—but…if he wanted to take the icon, then persuading me to bury it here would be a great first step.

I wavered. Chet had treated me with nothing but honor so far, but my concerns hovered at the back of my mind. He’d appeared in such an unusual way, specifically when I needed him. M-Bot’s old pilot, conveniently missing the memories that could help him prove who he’d been.

“Hiding the icon is probably a good idea,” I said to Chet, so he wouldn’t sense my suspicions. I fished out the pouch and made a show of dumping the reality ashes back into my pocket—but I also palmed the pin. Then I buried the pouch as he’d suggested, except empty. Afterward I handed him a small pinch of ashes. “In case we get split up,” I told him.

He stared at the ashes an uncomfortably long time before tucking them away, and as his attention was on them I covertly slipped the pin into another pocket.

Soon, M-Bot came hovering in from behind. “There are three pirates working in the hangar,” he whispered to us. “And one other person in an inner room. No other heat signatures in the building.”

Right. That made six total in that hangar. The guard, the one at the window, the one farther inside, and three workers.

“There are ten other heat signatures,” M-Bot whispered. “Six in one hangar building, four in the other. I think those are all asleep. At least, their heat signatures indicate recumbent figures in smaller rooms.”

“Probably divided into three flights,” I guessed. “Each hangar houses a flight, and one group is left on duty to watch every time the others sleep.”



“Agreed,” M-Bot said. “There are four starships in the open hangar, and one is being worked on by the mechanics. Six people. Four pilots, two ground crew maybe?”

“That sounds likely,” I whispered. “Any way into that open hangar from behind?”

“There is a small open door at the rear,” M-Bot said. “Probably to let air in during the welding.”

“Awesome,” I said. “We should strike while the other two flights are asleep. Chet, your job is to make a distraction. Can you do something that isn’t so dangerous as to make them sound the alarm, but which has a good chance of drawing the attention of not only the guards but the three mechanics too?”