Skyward

by Brandon Sanderson

  “Well,” Kimmalyn said, “you are known to be a tad dramatic at times, but I suppose I can accept the compliment.” She flew off to do another run, as Cobb wanted to coach her on the way she used her booster.

  “She almost doesn’t belong here,” I whispered to myself. “It’s like she’s both too good for us, and not quite good enough at the same time…”

  “That’s contradictory,” M-Bot’s voice said in my ear. “So perfectly human.”

  “Yeah,” I said, then sat up straight. Wait. “M-Bot?”

  “Yes?”

  “M-BOT.”

  “Not that I mind being screamed at, as my emotions are synthetic, but would you mind—”

  “How?” I said. I hunched down in my seat, whispering quietly. “Can the others hear you?”

  “I’ve infiltrated your lines and sent my communications directly into your helmet,” he said. “Your wireless communications emitter gives me a focal point to use for isolating you.”

  “My what?”

  “In your bag. I think you set it next to your seat.”

  The personal radio that Cobb had given me.

  “As I’ve said, your people’s communications methods are quite primitive,” M-Bot continued. “Which I find curious, since the rest of your technology—save your lack of brilliant artificial intelligences—seems relatively similar to my own. Well, and you’re also missing cytonic hyperdrives. And proper fungal documentation techniques. So I guess you’re actually backward in all the important areas.”

  “I thought you were worried about being discovered!” I whispered. “Why are you talking to me here?”

  “I’m a stealth ship, Spensa,” he said. “I’m fully capable of hacking communications lines without exposing myself. But I warn you, I don’t trust this DDF of yours.”

  “You’re smart not to,” I said honestly. “But you do trust me? Even though I lied to you?”

  “You remind me of someone I’ve forgotten.”

  “That…is kind of contradictory, M-Bot.”

  “No it’s not. I said it, and I’m one hundred percent rational.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “That’s called logic.” He waited a moment, then added, softer, “I’m super good at it.”

  Ahead, Kimmalyn finished her run with the Krell ship escaping. She never fired her IMP.

  But she could have shot the thing out of the air, I thought, irritated on her behalf. Assuming its shield was down.

  Cobb kept saying we needed fundamentals, and I supposed that made sense. It still didn’t quite seem fair. Like…we weren’t using her to her fullest.

  “Spin,” Cobb said. “You’re up.”

  “Up for what?” M-Bot asked me. “What are we doing? I don’t have a video feed. Just audio.”

  “We’re flying,” I whispered, then hit my booster and soared into the holographic debris—which was constantly renewed with new debris falling from the sky above.

  My target appeared, a Krell ship weaving between pieces of junk. I leaned in and chased after it, overburning through the junk. Almost close enough…

  A light started blinking on my dash. I had a tail? What? This was supposed to be a solo, one-on-one exercise. Apparently Cobb intended to make this more difficult for me.

  So be it.

  I rolled in a spinning dodge as the tail started firing its destructors. My maneuver saved me, but let the target get ahead of me. No you don’t, I thought, hitting my overburn and blasting after it, taking a corner at speed and gaining ground. The tail stuck to me, continuing to fire.

  I took a hit that nearly overwhelmed my shields. But I focused on the ship in front, which dove downward. So I cut my acclivity ring and slammed on my overburn, turning into a gut-wrenching dive. Lights flashed on my control panel to warn that without my acclivity ring, nothing would prevent me from slamming right into the ground.

  “I don’t know who you’re fighting,” M-Bot said. “But those warning beeps indicate that you’re not doing a good job.”

  As a companion to his words, the line on the top of my canopy warned that I’d just overwhelmed my GravCaps, and the g-force indicator started to flash red. In a real ship, I’d be hit with all those g-forces, which—in a dive—would push the blood to my head and make me start to red-out.

  “Try not to die,” M-Bot noted. “I don’t want to be left alone with Rodge. He’s boring.”

  I passed into the trail of another chunk of falling, burning metal—sparks bouncing off my shield, making it light up and crackle with energy. I’d lost the tail, which had fallen far behind, but I wasn’t close enough to the one in front.

  It can’t keep diving, I thought. We’re approaching the ground.

  I gritted my teeth, then lanced the chunk of debris right as my target cut to the side and flew back up. I swung all the way around the debris, then reengaged my acclivity ring and hit my overburn again. The maneuver made me swoop in a complete circle and dart upward, right past the Krell ship.

  I blasted my IMP, then the flashing line on the canopy went full red.

  “Ha!” I said over the group line. “Your children will weep tonight, you holographic Krell bastard!”

  “Seriously, Spin?” FM said. “You’re saying that ironically, right?”

  “Irony is a coward’s weapon!” I said. “Like poison. Or the destructors on Jerkface’s ship.”

  “Wouldn’t a coward use, like, a really big bomb?” FM said. “Something you could launch from far away? Seems like you’d need to get close for poison.”

  “As our resident expert,” Nedd said, “I’d like to point out that the true coward’s weapon is a comfortable couch and a stack of mildly amusing novels.”

  “You’re still dead, Spin,” Jerkface said, flying his ship down near mine. “You redlined, possibly causing permanent retinal damage. If this were a real battle, you’d undoubtedly be incapacitated—and your ship would be unshielded. You’d be dead in moments thanks to that Krell tailing you.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, amused at how offended he sounded. Was he really that threatened by my aptitude? “My task was to take down my target’s shields, which I did. My tail is irrelevant; Cobb’s orders were to IMP that target.”

  “You can’t keep cheating the simulation,” Jerkface said. “You’re going to be useless on the battlefield.”

  “I’m not cheating anything. I’m winning.”

  “Whatever,” he said. “At least you didn’t slam your ship into mine this time. Stars help the person who gets between Spin and her attempts to look good in front of everyone.”

  “What?” I said, growing annoyed at him. “You—”

  “Enough chitchat,” Cobb said. “Spin, that was some good flying—but Jorgen is right. You ultimately failed by getting yourself killed.”

  “Told you,” Jerkface said.

  “But—” I said.

  “If you’ve got time to argue,” Cobb interrupted, “I’m obviously not working you hard enough. The lot of you, run yourselves through three sets of gamma-M formation exercises before dinner. Jorgen, make sure it happens.”

  “Wait,” Kimmalyn said. “You’re leaving?”

  “Of course I am,” Cobb said. “I’m not going to go to dinner late. Cobb out.”

  “Great,” Hurl said. “Thanks for nothing, Spin.”

  Wait, she couldn’t possibly blame me for this extra work instead of Jerkface, could she? Jerkface organized us into a gamma-M formation, a type of monotonous flying exercise. It only took us about ten minutes, but I spent the entire time stewing, growing more and more frustrated. I even ignored M-Bot as he tried to talk to me.

  Once it was done, I pulled off my helmet, ignoring Jerkface’s call for a lineup and vocal sound off. I just…I needed a break. A moment to myself. I wiped the sweat from my face, pushing back the
hair that had been plastered to my forehead by the helmet.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  My holographic cockpit vanished.

  “What are you doing?” Jerkface demanded, standing beside my seat. “Do you have your helmet off? I called lineup!”

  “I just need a minute, okay? Leave me alone.”

  “You’re disobeying orders!”

  Oh, scud. I couldn’t deal with him right now. I was embarrassed, exhausted, and increasingly angry. It had been a long training session.

  “Well?” Jerkface said, looming over me. Nearby, the others disengaged their holograms and stood up, stretching.

  My face grew cold. And I started to feel myself losing control.

  Calm, Spensa. You can be calm. I forced down the anger and stood up. I needed to get out of the room.

  “What do you have to say?” Jerkface demanded. “Why do you keep denying my authority?”

  “What authority?” I snapped, grabbing my pack and walking toward the doorway.

  “Running away?” Jerkface said. “How appropriate.”

  I stopped in place.

  “I guess we should expect insubordination from the daughter of Zeen Nightshade,” he said. “Your family doesn’t exactly have a pedigree for obeying orders, does it?”

  Coldness in my face. Heat burning deep within.

  That’s it.

  I turned around slowly, then walked back to Jerkface and quietly dropped my pack.

  He looked down on me, sneering. “You—”

  I dropped to one knee, then slammed my fist into his knee. He gasped, and when he buckled over in pain, I pushed upward and rammed my elbow into his gut. The way he grunted felt good, stoking something primal inside me.

  My elbow knocked the breath out of him, preventing him from shouting out. So, while he was stunned, I hooked my ankle around his and sent him slamming backward to the floor.

  He was bigger than I was. If he recovered, he’d overpower me, so I leaped on top of him and raised my fist, preparing to slam it down into his stupid face.

  There I stopped, trembling. Furious. But somehow also cold and calm, like I got when fighting the Krell. Like I was both absolutely in control, but somehow utterly out of control.

  Jerkface stared up at me, frozen, seeming completely stunned. That stupid face of his. That sneer. That was how they all talked about me. That was how they all thought of me!

  “Whoa!” Nedd said. “Holy scud!”

  I knelt there on top of Jerkface, trembling, with my hand raised.

  “Really, wow!” Nedd said, kneeling down beside us. “Spin, that was incredible. Can you teach me that?”

  I glanced at him.

  “We don’t learn hand-to-hand,” he said, making some chopping motions. “Cobb says it’s useless, but what if a Krell tries to—you know—jump me in an alley or something?”

  “Nobody has ever seen a Krell alive, you idiot,” Hurl said.

  “Yeah, but what if that’s because—like—they always jump people in alleys, right? You ever think about that?”

  I looked down at Jerkface. I could suddenly hear myself breathing in quick gasps.

  “Spin,” Nedd said. “It’s okay. You were just showing us some hand-to-hand moves, right? How did you do that trip? You’re, like, half as tall as Jorgen is.”

  Calm. Breathe.

  “Half as tall?” Arturo said. “Might I point out that would make her less than a meter tall? Your math is suspect.”

  I pulled back from Jerkface, who let out a breath and went limp. FM looked horrified, though Nedd flashed me a thumbs-up. Arturo was shaking his head. Kimmalyn stood with her hand to her mouth, while Hurl—I couldn’t read Hurl. She had her arms crossed, and she studied me, thoughtful.

  Jorgen stumbled to his feet, holding his stomach. “She struck a superior. She assaulted another member of her flight!”

  “She went a little overboard, yeah,” Nedd said. “But, I mean, you asked for it, Jorgen. No permanent damage, right? Can’t we just forget about it?”

  Jorgen looked at me, and his expression hardened.

  No. This wouldn’t be forgotten. I was in serious trouble this time. I met his eyes, then—finally—I grabbed my pack and left.

  It had been years since I’d lost it that bad.

  For all my aggressive talk, I really hadn’t gotten in that many fights as a kid. I pretended I was some warrior or something, but the truth was that when most kids heard the way I talked, they backed off. And if I was being honest, their hesitance was probably less about being afraid of me, and more about being made uncomfortable by my bizarre air of confidence.

  It worked. It kept them away, and didn’t put me in situations where I lost control. Because I could do that, and not like a brave warrior from the stories. More like a cornered, frenzied rat. Like when I’d caught Finn Elstin stealing Rig’s lunch. Finn had ended up with a black eye and a broken arm. I’d had to spend a year on juvenile probation, and had been kicked out of judo classes for inappropriate use of violence.

  I’d been under the age of legal accountability then, so my actions hadn’t jeopardized my chances at flight school. Today’s assault was different. Today I was old enough to have known better.

  I sat on one of the benches in the orchard outside the DDF complex. What was Jorgen going to do to me? If he went to the admiral, I’d be out. Done. And I’d deserve it.

  I really wasn’t like a warrior from Gran-Gran’s stories. Far from it. I could barely function when my friends died in battle, and now I lost control at a couple of petty insults? Why couldn’t I control myself? Why did I bristle when Jorgen said those things? I’d lived with them my entire life.

  As the sky darkened, the closest skylight moving off, I sat there in the orchard, waiting, expecting the MPs to come for me. The only thing I heard was a faint sound…a buzzing? Coming from my pack?

  Frowning, I dug in it until I found the radio. I lifted it up and pressed down the Receive button.

  “Hello?” M-Bot said. “Spensa? Are you dead?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Oooh. Like the cat!”

  “…What?”

  “I’m not sure, honestly,” M-Bot said. “But logically, if you’re speaking to me then possibility has collapsed in our favor. Hurray!”

  I leaned back against the bench and reluctantly chewed on a piece of jerky. If they were going to come for me, they’d come for me. I might as well eat. I didn’t feel hungry, but I never did these days. Too much rat.

  “Are you going to explain to me who you were fighting?” M-Bot asked.

  “We’ve talked about it. The Krell.”

  “Well, you’ve talked around it. But nobody has explained it to me. You just kind of expect me to know.”

  I forced myself to swallow a piece of jerky and wash it down with some water. Then I sighed, holding the radio to my head. “The Krell are aliens.”

  “You’re both aliens,” M-Bot noted. “Technically. Since we’re not on your home planet. I think?”

  “Either way, they’re trying to destroy us. They are these creatures with strange armor and terrible weapons. Our elders say they destroyed our empire in the stars, almost exterminated us. We might be all that’s left of humanity, and the Krell are determined to end us. They send flights of ships, some with bombs called lifebusters that can penetrate down into the caverns and destroy living things there.”

  “Huh,” M-Bot said. “Why don’t they bombard you from orbit?”

  “What?”

  “Not that I’d know anything about things like that,” he added. “Being a noncombat machine. Obviously.”

  “You have four guns.”

  “Someone must have stuck those on when I wasn’t looking.”

  I sighed. “If you’re asking why they don’t launch the lifebusters fr
om up high, this planet is surrounded by an ancient defense system. Standard Krell strategy is to fly past that, then swarm in and try to overwhelm our fighters, or sneak in a low strike team. If they either destroy our AA guns or get a bomber in under them, they can eliminate our ability to make new fighters. Then we’re done for. The only thing standing between humankind and annihilation is the DDF.” I slumped in my seat.

  Which means, I thought to myself, I should get over my petty squabbles and focus on flying.

  What was it my father had told me?

  Their heads are heads of rock, their hearts set upon rock. Set your sights on something higher…

  “M-Bot?” I asked. “Do you remember anything about human civilization? Before the Krell? Do you know what it was like?”

  “My memory banks on such matters are almost entirely corrupted.”

  I sighed, disappointed, and stuffed away my rations, preparing to walk home. But I couldn’t do it. Not while feeling like I was standing with a gun to my head. I wasn’t going to go cower in my cave, waiting to be called in to report for discipline.

  I had to face this head-on and take my punishment.

  Throwing my pack over my shoulder, I stalked back to the front of Alta Base and passed the checkpoint. I took the long way around flight school—the path past the mess hall and launchpad—to get one last glance at my Poco.

  I passed the silent line of ships, watched over by the ever-diligent ground crews. To my left, I spotted my flight sitting together in the mess hall, eating dinner and laughing. Jorgen wasn’t there, but he usually didn’t eat with the common rank and file. Besides, he’d probably gone straight to the admiral to report what I’d done to him.

  The MPs had long since stopped appearing to escort me off the grounds every evening. We all knew the rules, and they were satisfied I was going to obey them. So nobody forbade me as I went back into the flight school building, where I walked past our room—it was empty—and then stopped by Cobb’s office. Also empty.

  Those were basically the only places I’d visited. I took a deep breath, then caught a passing aide and asked if she knew where I could find the admiral at this hour.