Cytonic (Skyward #3)(57)

I took a deep breath. This wasn’t what I’d been planning—but it didn’t look like I had time to wait for the sensor array to go down. M-Bot had said his transfer would take under a half hour. How long had it been?

“I will go,” I told Peg, “if you give me a ship.”



“That is not the offered deal.”

“It’s the one I’m offering,” I replied. “I have no specific quarrel with you and yours, Peg, but I have a duty to my people. I’m going to need one of your starfighters to accomplish that.”

We locked eyes. Scud, I knew in that moment what was going to happen next. I barely managed to throw myself to the side as she leaped for me.





Can I point out how horribly unfair it was that I kept getting into fistfights with people who were literally three times as big as I was? Next time, I was going to pick a fight with a damn kitsen. Karma owed it to me.

My chair went skidding out behind me as I hit the ground and rolled, coming up in a crouch as Peg grabbed the air where I’d been sitting. Wishing I had Skullbreaker, I backed away toward the tool shelf. Unfortunately, Peg wasn’t about to let me search it for a weapon. She came rushing in, hands forward, claws out.

She didn’t shout, growl, or call to the others. This was, as she’d said, a contest between two killers. The other Broadsiders somehow didn’t count. I did.

Peg lunged for me, surprisingly quick, but I kept moving. I couldn’t afford to let her pull me into a grapple; if this came to wrestling, she’d quickly use her weight to immobilize me. Instead I dodged back and forth, keeping a low crouched stance. I reached back to my training and to skills I’d gained from my life as an outcast. You learned a lot when you were the smallest, weirdest kid in the neighborhood—the one with a parent who was the wrong kind of famous.

Peg effectively kept me from reaching the tool shelf—because by going for it, I’d have been forced to turn my back on her. Fortunately, she respected me enough not to turn away and go rummaging for a weapon herself. We rounded each other, and I let her think I was going to play the grappling game, while I actually searched for any other way out.



If I ran, she’d chase me down. I had to try to wound her or knock her out. I feinted, enticing her to lunge again, then I sidestepped in close and rammed my fist into her flank. That would have been a good square-on kidney punch had she been human.

Peg grunted, but didn’t seem severely hurt. I felt like I’d punched a sack of rocks—her muscles were tougher, bulkier, than those of any human I’d faced. Scud. I was not properly prepared for fighting aliens. Or anyone. I managed to dodge a grab for my hair. I’d let that grow way too long.

Well, she might not have had kidneys in the right place, but she did have knees. Joints had to be a weak spot, and I needed to end this quickly. So I allowed her to get close enough to grab hold of my coat. Then I twisted, fell to my knees, and rammed my elbow into her right knee. She flinched, so I hit her with my elbow again—which was screaming in pain already from the first blow. The hit worked though, sending Peg stumbling back. Directly into the tool shelf.

Metallic peals rang through the room as tools dropped free. I grabbed a wrench and—Peg still holding my jacket in a tight grip—I hit her again. Two-handed. Directly in the same knee.

She let out a howl and released me. I stepped away as she drooped forward and held her knee, grimacing. My own eyes were watering from the pain in my elbow, but I kept a tight hold of the wrench and glanced around the room.

Both Nuluba and Maksim had pulled guns on me. Great.

“I’ve defeated your leader!” I shouted at them, raising my wrench. “By virtue of trial by combat, I am taking over command of the Broadsiders!”

“Like hell you are,” Maksim said.



Yeah, that always had seemed too convenient when it worked in the stories. Scud. I lowered my wrench.

Then a blue light shone behind the others. An ominous shape rose into the air, lit from below—at least until the twin destructors under the wings powered up, glowing brightly, focused on both armed Broadsiders. Maksim glanced over his shoulder, then stumbled away, his eyes wide. M-Bot had finished his upload.

They shouldn’t have backed down. They could have run for me and gotten close enough to control the situation. Ship-scale weapons weren’t precise enough to hit someone close to me without risking hitting me too. But that was easy to say and difficult to think of, when you were facing a pair of guns as big as you were. Both Maksim and Nuluba dropped their weapons.

I didn’t wait for further invitation. I dashed between them—scooping up one of the sidearms as I ran—then leaped and pulled myself onto the wing of the hovering starfighter. I unplugged the drone, then the cockpit opened and I climbed in.

“Turn toward Shiver’s ship,” I said to M-Bot. “Make sure she doesn’t power on.”

He did so as I settled into the seat. Saints, it felt good to be in a cockpit again. It felt like it had been an eternity. I set aside the drone—there wasn’t nearly as much room behind the seat as I was used to—and the comm crackled.

Finally, M-Bot’s voice came out. “Wow. This comm system is old. I feel like I’m inhabiting a record player.”

“I have no idea what that is,” I said, doing up the buckles. Outside, Maksim and Nuluba ran to check on Peg. The resonants hadn’t powered on their acclivity rings. They obviously realized I could blast them the moment they tried. I considered it briefly—that would prevent pursuit—but no. They might not be friends, but I also wasn’t going to execute them in cold blood.