Cytonic (Skyward #3)(7)

Wait.

Ships?

Dared I hope they had starfighters in here? I sure would feel more confident in the cockpit of a ship. When they started walking again, I hurried along with them. And gloriously, like debris parting to reveal heaven itself, the trees fell away and we entered a small clearing—with three ships in it. Two midsize civilian craft and a sleek, dangerous-looking starfighter.

It was like fate had seen me struggling and decided to send me a little gift—in the form of an interceptor-class ship with twin destructors. I was so captivated by its beauty that I missed something important. The group had halted around me, and they weren’t looking at the ships—but at the two pirates who had presumably been left to guard them.



One was a dione, who seemed panicked and was trying to administer some kind of medical kit to the other—a burl, who was sitting on the ground by one of the ships. Female, I assumed from her size.

And her face was melting.





The strange visage made me gape in shock. Though her body was gorilla-shaped, and she was wearing utilitarian clothing like the others, she had no nose, just a small lump where one had been, and a thin slit for a mouth. Her cheeks sagged to the sides, and her eyes—a milky white—were open and staring forward.

There was something distinctly unnatural about that face. What had happened to her?

“Tie down the prisoner for now,” Vlep told the dione—who yanked me over to the side of the clearing. There they anxiously tied my hands—still bound behind me—to part of a tree to hold me in place. A root perhaps? Then the dione ran over to join the others gathering around the burl.

I immediately started trying to worm free. Unfortunately, their knot-tying skills were superior to their combat abilities. I was secured tightly, so I resorted to rubbing my binding against the bark in hopes of making it fray.

“What happened?” Vlep demanded of the dione guard. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing! I just wandered out into the trees to relieve myself, then came back to…” The confused dione gestured at the figure.



Scud. That melty-faced alien was getting unnerving. The others argued for a moment, then one suggested they try the “reality ashes,” which turned out to be the silvery dust from my pocket. Vlep began sprinkling it on top of the burl.

As I watched, her eyes started to glow. Beneath the skin, as if there were something inside her. A pure white light. It reminded me…

Of the eyes. Of delvers.

Oh, Saints.

I tried to yank free of the root, and it did have some give to it—but I wasn’t quite strong enough to pull it out of the ground. So I returned to rubbing my bonds on the bark.

“A little to the left,” a peppy voice said from behind. “There’s a rougher part there that might help.”

I paused, then twisted to look over my shoulder. To where a small drone hovered, hidden among the underbrush.

“M-Bot!” I said, then hushed, glancing at the pirates. They were only about seven meters away, but fortunately they didn’t seem to have heard. “You found me!”

“Well, you weren’t exactly quiet, Spensa,” M-Bot said, hovering closer. “I see you found some friends. That’s…nice. Look, we need to talk. A heart-to-heart. Heart-to-processing-unit-simulating-a-biological-function-like-a-heart.”

“Now’s not a great time!”

M-Bot shook a grabber arm at me. “The emotions of biological beings often come at inconvenient times; I’ve dealt with yours on many occasions. And Spensa…I think I have feelings now.”

“That’s…not surprising. You had them before, no matter what you said.”

“Spensa,” M-Bot continued, “I’ve been thinking. And…and feeling. I really was angry that you left me behind to be ripped apart, gutted, and killed. But I understand why you did it. I shouldn’t have been so angry at you. I…overreacted.”



“Great,” I said, struggling to get loose. “I’m sorry too, and I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, of course,” I said, twisting to the side to show him my bound wrists. “Look, can you—”

“Oh, thank you, Spensa!” he said. “Thank you, thank you. I feel so warm! Maybe my power matrix is overheating. But, but, it’s marvelous! I feel like I’m going to cry, though that’s physically impossible for me.”

“Could you—”

“Maybe I could have mechanical tear ducts installed on this drone. So I could be like you, and leak? You become less efficient with your secretions when you’re emotional.”

I took a deep breath. In the stories, the heroines always had trusty steeds—who could not talk—or loyal, quiet sidekicks. I could see why. The Lone Ranger probably wouldn’t have accomplished much if his horse had been a mushroom-obsessed blabbermouth.

Still, I was really glad to see him. I glanced toward my captors. They were holding down the sick burl, who seemed to be having a spasm. My heart went out to her, but her distress was timed perfectly. The pirates would have noticed M-Bot for sure otherwise.

“Spensa?” he said. “Oh! Are you tied up?”

“You’re only now noticing?” I growled. “What did you think I was doing with these ropes?”