Starsight (US)

by Brandon Sanderson

  “A warrior poet?” I said. “Like an Old Earth skald!”

  “Precisely!” Hesho said, raising a furry fist to me.

  I raised one back, grinning. We joined several other groups of pilots being led down the hallway. Those flights had been sorted by species—many had only one species represented, and a handful had two species mixed. Ours was the only one I saw that had more than two different races represented.

  Hesho’s people have a history with humans, I thought. And so do Alanik’s. Vapor’s people fought in the wars. Maybe we’d been chosen specifically because we might be able to deal with Brade.

  More soldiers stood watch along this hallway, a pair of Krell this time, wearing full armor instead of just the ordinary sandstone carapace. As we passed them, I realized I hadn’t seen any “lesser species” in this carrier, save for us pilots. All the guards and officials we passed were Krell or diones.

  It left me wondering…why did they need us pilots again? They fought my people on Detritus with remote-controlled drone ships.

  No, I thought. If I can hear the instructions sent to the drones, the delver will be able to as well. They needed a force of pilots trained in the cockpit. “M-Bot?” I whispered, intending to ask if he’d found out anything about the remote drone programs the Superiority used.

  My earpiece returned only static at that. Scud. Had something happened to him? My heart started racing, until I realized I was inside a military ship. They must have communications shielding in place. Either that or I’d simply gotten beyond the bracelet’s communication range already. I was truly on my own.

  We were led through some corridors with featureless metallic walls and vivid red carpet down the center. We arrived at an intersection and the drone turned right, toward a corridor lined with rooms.

  The rest of my flight turned to follow, but I hesitated at the intersection. Right? Why were we turning right?

  I knew, logically, that there was no reason for me to be confused. And yet some piece of me reached out, looking farther down the hallway we’d been traveling. Not right at the intersection but straight ahead. That was the way to go. I could feel something up there…

  “What do you think you’re doing?” barked a soldier guarding the intersection.

  I froze in place, realizing I’d started to walk down the hallway. I looked up at the writing on the wall, and my translator helpfully piped out the meaning.

  RESTRICTED AREA. ENGINEERING AND ENGINES.

  I blushed and turned right instead, hurrying to catch up with the others. The guard watched me until the group of us turned into one of the rooms off the corridor. I felt before I arrived that Brade was inside—and indeed, I stepped in to find her sitting alone in the little chamber, which contained a half dozen jumpseats. Brade wore the same sharp white flight suit we all wore, and sat in the back row, buckled in, looking out the window.

  “So that’s her,” Hesho said, hovering near my head. “She doesn’t look so dangerous. Still, a blade that has slain a hundred men may not shine like one freshly forged. Danger, sweet like a forbidden perfume. I will know thee.”

  “That was beautiful, Hesho,” I said.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  The other kitsen flew into the room, chattering together. The drone that had been leading us indicated we should strap in and wait for further instructions, then left.

  “Strap in?” Hesho asked. “I thought we’d be assigned our starfighters.”

  “We likely will,” Morriumur said, taking a seat. “Once the Weights and Measures carries us to the training location—a specialized facility several light-years away.”

  “I…,” Hesho said. “I assumed we’d have hyperdrive-capable starships. So we could fly there ourselves.”

  “I’ll admit,” I said, “I was hoping the same.”

  “Oh, they’d never give us individual ships capable of hyperjumps,” Morriumur said. “That kind of technology is dangerous! It’s never trusted to lesser races. Misusing it could draw the attention of the delvers upon us.”

  “We’re learning to fight the delvers!” I said.

  “It still wouldn’t be wise,” Morriumur said. “FTL jumps are always handled by highly trained expert technicians who have prime intelligence. Even special-classification species, like figments, aren’t allowed. Right, Vapor?”

  I jumped as she spoke from just behind me. “This is correct.”

  Scud. I was never going to get used to having an invisible person in our flight. “Some races have cytonics,” I said, sitting down and strapping in. “They don’t need Superiority ships to hyperjump.”

  “Letting a cytonic teleport a ship is incredibly dangerous,” Morriumur said, making an odd hand gesture—a kind of swiping motion. A dione indication of dismissiveness, maybe? “Going back to cytonics would be like returning to ancient combustion engines instead of using acclivity rings! No, no, in modern society we would never use a method so foolhardy. Our FTL jumps are extremely safe, and never draw delver attention.”

  Curious, I glanced at Brade, but she didn’t look back at me. M-Bot’s research had reinforced what Cuna had told me: the modern people of the Superiority knew about cytonics, but the bulk of the population believed there were none left among them. It likely wouldn’t be known that Brade was one, let alone that I was one too.

  So…could it be possible that this phantom “FTL technology” the Superiority had was all just a lie? They claimed to have something safe to use, but what if that was just an excuse to control and suppress knowledge of cytonics?

  I closed my eyes, listening to the stars as Gran-Gran had always taught. I felt the Weights and Measures finally start moving, unhooking from the dock and accelerating slowly away from Starsight. Those were physical sensations, and seemed distant, disconnected.

  The stars…the cytonic communications…I tried to parse them, understand them. I tried the exercise my grandmother had taught me. Pretending I was flying. Rising. Soaring through space.

  I could…hear…something. Something close. Louder, more demanding.

  Prepare for hyperjump.

  Orders from the captain of this ship. Passed down to the engine room. I could feel it there. And the hyperdrive…There was something familiar about it…

  I heard the captain order the jump. I waited, watching, feeling what was going on. Trying to absorb the process.

  My mind flooded with information. A location. The place we were going. I knew it intimately. I could—

  A voice screamed from somewhere nearby. Then the ship suddenly entered the nowhere.

  I was there, hanging in the not-place, surrounded by blackness. And the eyes. They were here.

  Except they weren’t looking at me.

  I saw them, sensed them, heard them. But their gaze didn’t find me. They were focused elsewhere. As if…as if looking toward the source of the scream.

  Yes, that was it. The piercing, agonized scream lingered in my mind. It distracted the delvers from seeing the Weights and Measures as it slipped through the nowhere.

  It was over like a snap of the fingers. I lurched back into my seat in the little room, grunting. I felt as if I’d been thrown physically, then been caught by the chair. I groaned, sagging forward.

  “Captain Alanik?” Hesho asked, hovering nearby. “Are you well?”

  I looked around the jump room, which held only the members of my flight. Morriumur didn’t seem to have even noticed that moment in the nowhere.

  I looked back at Brade. She met my eyes, then narrowed them at me. She knew I was cytonic. Did she…did she suspect I was human as well? I had a moment of panic and looked down at my hands, but they were still a light violet shade, indicating that my disguise was functioning.

  “Welcome, everyone!” A voice came over the PA system. It was Winzik. “We’ve arrived at our training facility! This is goi
ng to be so exciting, yes indeed! You probably have many questions. A drone will lead you to your flight’s dock, and you can get your starfighter assignments.”

  “We’re here?” Hesho asked. “We hyperjumped? Usually they give some kind of warning before it happens!” The door of our jump room opened and he zipped out, the other kitsen tagging along behind on their platforms.

  The rest of us, including Brade, gathered outside in the hallway, then followed a drone that had arrived to lead us. Another drone chased after the kitsen, barely keeping up with them.

  I looked toward the engine room. That direction, I thought. The scream came from that direction.

  This technology was no sham. Superiority FTL drives did let them hide—the delvers hadn’t seen us. It felt even more vital to me than ever that I find a way to steal a hyperdrive. My people needed this technology.

  At the same time, I had the striking suspicion that whatever was driving this ship, it wasn’t technology in the traditional sense. There was something too familiar about it. Something—

  “What did you sense?” a curious voice asked beside me.

  I stiffened, smelling cinnamon. I tried, with some effort, to keep myself from squirming at Vapor’s presence as I walked after the rest of my team. If I smelled her…did that mean I was breathing her in?

  “To most people, a hyperjump is imperceptible,” Vapor said, speaking with her breezy voice. “Not to you. Curious.”

  “Why does the Superiority risk using cytonic communications?” I blurted out. Perhaps the wrong thing to say to change the subject, but it had been on my mind. “Everyone is so scared of delvers, but we blatantly use communication that might draw their attention.”

  Vapor’s scent changed to one that was slightly minty. Was that intentional on her part? Or was it like how a human changed moods?

  “It’s been over a hundred years since the last delver attack,” she said. “It’s easy to grow lax, in the face of that. Besides, cytonic communication was never actually enough to draw a delver into our realm.”

  “But—”

  “If a delver has already come to our realm, then they might hear that communication and follow it. They can hear all wireless signals—radio included, though cytonic communication is the most attractive to them. In the past, wise empires learned to hide their communication, but these days it can be employed very cautiously. Assuming no delver is nearby. Assuming nobody has been brash enough to draw them into our realm by cytonic travel or by dangerous use of AI.”

  Her scent receded. I followed the drone, not trusting myself to answer. I’d come here with the goal of stealing a hyperdrive, but my task was suddenly far more daunting. I couldn’t just run off with a small starfighter—if I wanted a hyperdrive, I’d have to hijack this entire carrier ship.

  Was there an easier way? If I could only see what was going on in that engine room, maybe I could put together the secret. Scud, I wished Rig were here with me. He’d be able to figure all of this out, I was sure.

  I followed the others to a different dock from the one where we’d arrived. Here, groups of starfighters were being prepped for the flights to use in today’s training. They were boxier than the sleek DDF ones, but I didn’t spare them much attention at first.

  Because something magnificent hung outside.

  An enormous polyhedral structure dominated the view through the invisible shield that held the air in the bay. It was big enough to dwarf our carrier ship; it was as large as a space station.

  “Welcome, pilots,” Winzik said over the PA, “to the delver maze.”

  I stepped up to the shield separating us from the vacuum. We hung in space, orbiting a fairly weak star. The huge structure seemed to bend to my eyes. As if I could barely comprehend it. Sweeping lines, gradations in the darkness. This metallic structure wasn’t quite a sphere, but a dodecahedron with smooth faces and sharp edges.

  I smelled cinnamon. Then a quiet voice beside me said, “It’s insane that they actually built one.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “A training ground,” Vapor said. How did she make sounds to talk? “For re-creating a battle against a delver. The humans built this years ago, and we’ve only just located it. They knew.”

  “Knew…what?”

  Vapor’s scent changed to something sharper, the smell of wet metal after machinery is sprayed down. “They knew that eventually, the delvers would need to be faced. Our fear of them stunts our communication, our travel, even our warfare. Break free of that hold…and the galaxy is yours.”

  Her smell faded away. I remained in place, thinking on that until Hesho came flying over.

  “Incredible,” he said. “Come, Captain Alanik. We’ve been assigned ships. They cannot hyperjump, but they look suitable for fighting.”

  I followed him to our line of five fighters. They were painted stark white and didn’t have true wings; they looked like triangular wedges of steel with cockpits up front and weapons installed on the slant of each side of the wedge. They obviously weren’t meant for atmospheric battle.

  The kitsen fighter was about fifty percent larger than the others and had been built like a battleship, with many small gun emplacements. The kitsen were thrilled with this, chattering as they went over the specs and made assignments. It apparently had multiple stations inside and various departments to work.

  My ship was an interceptor built for speed, with moderate firepower in the form of twin destructors and—I was pleased to note—a single light-lance turret underneath. I’d worried I wouldn’t have one of those, and most of the ships didn’t. Apparently the Superiority officials had seen how effectively I’d used mine in the test.

  Morriumur had an interceptor too, while Vapor had been given a sniper, with a longer-range gun but no light-lance. I looked over my shoulder, noting Brade walking to the last of the fighters—a third interceptor, also with a light-lance.

  I stepped over to her as she reached her ship. She looked up, startled. “What?” she demanded.

  “I just wanted to welcome you to the flight,” I said, holding out my hand. I nodded toward it. “It’s a human gesture, I’ve been told.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she said. “I don’t associate with monsters.”

  She brushed past me, then hauled herself up the ladder into her ship. Scud. How brainwashed was she? If I was going to recruit her, I’d need to find a way to talk to her more without raising anyone else’s suspicions.

  For now, it seemed my only option was to start training. And to be honest, I found I was eager to begin. All of this imitation and subterfuge was exhausting; it would be good to just fly again.

  I climbed into my fighter, and was pleased to find that the controls were familiar. Had we humans gotten these designs from aliens long ago? Or had our attempt to conquer the galaxy spread our technology throughout it?

  “M-Bot,” I said. “Preflight check.”

  Silence.

  Right. Being without his friendly voice made me feel suddenly exposed. I’d grown accustomed to having him there in the ship’s computer, watching out for me. With a sigh, I found a preflight checklist under the seat, used my pin to translate it, then went through the steps to double-check that everything worked the way I expected.

  “This is Alanik,” I said, after testing the communications. “Everyone online?”

  “This is the Kitsen Unity Ship Swims Against the Current in a Stream Reflecting the Sun,” Hesho’s voice said. “Recently named. All systems operational. This ship even has a very nice captain’s chair.”

  “We should pick callsigns,” I said. “I’ll be Spring.”

  “Do we have to?” Morriumur said. “Our names are simple enough, aren’t they?”

  “It’s a military thing,” I said. “Morriumur, you can be callsign: Complains.”

  “Oh,” Morriumur said, their voice s
ounding despondent. “I guess I deserve that.”

  Scud. Assigning an insulting nickname wasn’t nearly as fun when someone just accepted it.

  “Callsigns aren’t required,” Brade said. “I will use my name, which is Brade. Do not call me by something else.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Vapor, you there?”

  “Yes,” her quiet voice said. “But my normal mission callsign is top secret. So I will need another.”

  “The Wind That Mingles with a Man’s Dying Breath,” Hesho suggested.

  “That’s…very specific,” Morriumur said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s cool, but kind of a mouthful, Hesho.”

  “I think it’s beautiful,” Vapor said.

  “Flight Fifteen,” a voice said from Command. “Be ready to launch. Command out.”

  “Wait,” I said to the voice. “What’s our command structure? How should we organize ourselves?”

  “It doesn’t matter to us,” the voice said. “Figure it out yourself. Command out.”

  “That’s annoying,” I said over the private line to my flight. “I thought the Superiority knew more about military discipline than that.”

  “Maybe not,” Hesho said. “They did need to recruit us as pilots.”

  “They have hundreds of other pilots, flying remote drones,” I said. “Surely they have command structures. Officers and ranks?”

  Morriumur cleared their throat over the line. “My leftparent did a stint as a drone pilot, and…well, most of them retire after a short time. The duty is too stressful, too aggressive.”

  Scud. Well, that was probably another big reason why we on Detritus had survived so long.

  Flight Command ordered us to lift off, and the five of us rose on our acclivity rings, then maneuvered out of the Weights and Measures’s docks into the deepness of space.

  The distant star shined light that reflected in bright waves off the metallic surface of the maze. Its awesome size reminded me of the platforms around Detritus—both must have taken extraordinary amounts of effort to create.