Cytonic (Skyward #3)(95)

“Spensa?” M-Bot said. “The rest of the fighting has paused. Most of the ships on both sides have been locked up, but there are fifteen remaining functional fighters on the enemy side, while our side has twelve, including Gremm and Peg. But everyone has agreed to a cessation for now, as the battlefield is too dangerous. They want to make sure everyone locked up gets pulled out to safety before resuming.”

Ahead, Hesho wove between falling chunks. He’d slowed, taunting me to follow. They wanted to coax me into danger. They were willing to throw away Hesho’s life for a chance to hurt me. I needed to end this chase. Now.

I grabbed the control sphere and started firing, causing Hesho to slam on his overburn and blast away. His ship’s faster speed shouldn’t matter among all this debris. Unfortunately, that same debris blocked my shots. I ended up pelting a chunk of acclivity stone—broken off what appeared to be a storefront.

As Hesho dodged, he took another collision from a falling piece of rock. His shield went down. Scud. Shooting at him was making him more reckless. I followed, uncertain what to do, my worry deepening—but Chet and M-Bot stayed quiet and gave me time to think. And as I did, memories returned to me out of the cloud that was my past. Flying with Hesho and the kitsen—and with Brade, Vapor, and Morriumur. Days spent training—memories I hadn’t even realized I’d lost.

“M-Bot,” I said, “open a line to his ship.”

“Done,” M-Bot said.

“Flight Fifteen,” I snapped, trying to channel Cobb like I’d done when training Hesho and the others, “line up! Now!”

I backboosted, pulling my ship to a halt.

Ahead, Hesho’s vessel slowed. How much did the delvers control, and how much was him? They needed his flying skill. Hopefully that meant they couldn’t dominate him entirely.

He’d responded to my voice. His drill instructor. I searched through my clouded recollections of that day. Hadn’t…hadn’t Hesho had a different name for our flight?



“Flowers of Night’s Last Kiss,” I said. “Time to call roll! Fall in line, Hesho!”

Hesho’s ship stopped and turned. I didn’t wait—I sprayed him with destructor fire. I felt only a tad guilty. But my shots flew true, causing his ship to flash blue and lock up.

Behind me Chet released a loud, relieved breath. “Nice flying,” he said softly.

“A soothing calm,” M-Bot said. “Like I’ve just been serviced with a nice fresh can of lubricant. I’ll call it repose.”

“We’re not done yet,” I said. Using maneuvering thrusters, I inched over to his ship—close enough that we nearly bumped one another amid the falling debris.

His canopy flashed and went transparent, the tint fading. He sat in there, those eyes glowing white, facing toward me in his little seat. His teeth bared. I pressed my mind forward, ignoring the way the delver behind him screamed at me. I saw deep inside it.

And there I found fear.

“Chet, take the controls,” I said. “Don’t let us drift apart.”

“As you ask,” he said. “But…why?”

In response I popped my cockpit, hoping my guess was correct.

“Spensa?” M-Bot said. “This…is very odd behavior.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Chet, if I slip and fall, try to grab me or something.”

“Uh—”

I climbed out of the cockpit and stepped onto my ship’s wing. From there, I felt a strange sense of disorientation—buildings floating overhead, tumbling in the sky. Two crumpled fragments locked together from their collision, spinning slowly. A white glow to my right: the lightburst looking on us through debris-filled space.

I was standing at the crossroads of infinity, without lifeline or safety rope. Chet used maneuvering thrusters to keep the wing steady as I inched over to Hesho’s craft. Then, before I could think better of it, I jumped.



I landed square on Hesho’s smaller fighter. It was more than large enough to hold me up, even if the cockpit wasn’t much bigger than a flight helmet. I leaned down, stared at him through the now-clear canopy, and stoked the star inside me. The me-ness. I let it shine out cytonically, invisible to conventional sight.

Hesho-delver cringed away, pure white eyes open and glowing bright enough that I couldn’t make out his other features.

“Why are you so afraid of me?” I said. “What is it that I don’t know yet that makes you act this way?”

You must return to us the Us you separated, noise. It was a deliberate attempt to get me to think of something else, judging by what my “listening” was telling me. Give them back.

“Look,” I said, “can’t we please talk about this? What you’re doing to me? And my people?”

This corrupts, they sent me. I understood the implication—they meant that talking to me, interacting, risked changing them. They tried to withdraw, but I…latched on. With my growing cytonic senses, I grabbed hold of the delver. It was like Brade had done to me.

Except I was far, far weaker. I held on only barely. Either I didn’t have a talent for this, or I needed a ton more practice. Still, even that little attempt panicked the delver. This brought the full brunt of their attention, fear, and hatred upon me. In that moment others gathered, and they tried to destroy me in the only way they knew how.