Cytonic (Skyward #3)(47)

You’re a hero, I said.

If that were true, he replied, then I’d have confronted the truths in the Path of Elders long ago. They…frighten me, Miss Nightshade…Spensa, they frighten me. For reasons I can’t explain, because I don’t quite remember. I think part of me is hidden in them somewhere, something that terrifies me. If I were a true hero, I would have walked that road on my own long ago.

I didn’t know what to make of that. I could feel his sincerity, and his fear. Even his confusion.

It doesn’t matter where it came from, I said firmly. You rescued me, guided me, helped me. And now you’re walking this Path with me.

All for a fee, he said. You…noticed how I look upon your icon. I see now why you…treated me as you did.

I felt another spike of shame. Mirrored by his own.

We are quite a pair, aren’t we? he sent. I hope that being near an icon will help me become more…solid. That the reality ashes, and the tie back to the somewhere, will help me somehow. I cannot entirely blame you for worrying about my intentions.

My distrust hurt you though, I said. Still hurts you.

Yes, he admitted. It’s in the persona, you understand. I…I must see myself as a hero, the gentleman explorer, beloved and trusted. Because if I’m not that, well… Well then… That is all I have left of what I once was. Those dreams, those aspirations.



It was a strikingly candid moment, where I could feel him exposed, frightened. Scud. I didn’t deserve his confession, but in that moment I knew I could trust him. The face he showed might have been a patchwork creation of his memories of stories, but the heart inside…that was good. Solid.

I tried to project this to him, and it worked. He perked up, and in a moment of wordless communication, he accepted my apology. We would continue forward, we would walk the Path of Elders, and we would find the secrets.

I broke off the communication, then aggressively attacked the last of my work on the landing gear. I probably should have been tired, but I wasn’t—nor was I thirsty. In fact, I had no idea how long I’d been working. I couldn’t use my fatigue, or even hunger, as a way to judge the passage of time. In here, I often felt like I could just keep going. Forever.

That was dangerous. I was going to have to keep a close eye on myself.





A few days later, I felt I was finally getting a handle on the Broadsiders as a group.

“Yeah, there are six pirate factions,” Maksim had explained as we went through some booster maintenance on my second day as a captive. “We Broadsiders are smaller than we used to be, but we’re one of the first and most proud.”

“And the Superiority?” I’d asked. “Several of these starfighters are their models.”

“Ha! Yeah. The poor drips that run the mining operation at Surehold ask for ships to protect themselves from us. Which gives us plenty of opportunities to steal them!”

Over the next two days, I subtly picked out more information. The factions had been disorganized until a few years ago—more very small roving bands, or straggling refugees. The organization into factions had come as they solidified into the current six.

They spent most of their time trying to steal from the mining base, capturing new people who were exiled, or even raiding one another. Over the days as I watched, the Broadsiders curiously didn’t lose a single one of their nine ships in battle, though they went on a couple of raids. So maybe these were quick encounters, more about posturing than actual fighting.



Of all the Broadsiders, I found Peg the most interesting. There was something…different about the large alien. She was a tenasi, a race that I’d learned—on Starsight—was often used to pilot drones or do other fighting in the Superiority. She certainly had a dominating presence, and she watched me carefully whenever she was near.

Other than her, four people commonly worked in our hangar. Maksim was one. The hangar I’d broken into had actually been his, though he’d been spending his guard duty hanging out with another flight. His flight was named Cutlass Flight—again, borrowing Old Earth terms because the pirates found them intimidating. I had essentially been assigned to this flight myself, as I was under their supervision.

The varvax in our flight was named Nuluba, a female of their species. She still made me nervous—I couldn’t look at her without seeing Winzik, as her exoskeleton was the same color green. Together she and Maksim made up the ground crew for Cutlass Flight, which currently had only two active starfighters, plus Peg’s shuttle—which she was very proud of, but which I wouldn’t want to fight in.

There was also one ship that wasn’t combat ready yet: an old civilian vessel the team was modifying to be battleworthy. It, like the shuttle, had a light-lance for towing; though the Superiority didn’t commonly use those for battle, they had them for industrial purposes. Now the team was installing destructors. As I did reconnaissance over the next few days, I decided that was the ship I was going to have to steal. Peg’s shuttle had an unfamiliar control scheme, and the two more combat-ready ships…

Well, they were occupied by Cutlass Flight’s two starfighter pilots. Both were of a crystalline species who literally inhabited their ships. As I was asking about their battle skill, Maksim dropped a really important piece of intel.



“It is nice to have two pilots who live in their cockpits,” he said, wagging a wrench toward the ships. “As soon as the scanner tells us a raid is coming, they’re ready.”