Брендон Сандерсон - Cytonic

“Understood,” he said, and zoomed off. He was extremely quiet—that was why I’d been able to use the drone for spy missions. I wished we still had the holographic projector to give him some limited camouflage.

Fortunately, that guard didn’t seem particularly observant. He yawned as he strolled back toward the hangar opening.

“Miss Nightshade,” Chet said, “what we are about to try is much more dangerous than our previous endeavors. That guard is armed, and we risk capture or wounding.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

“As am I!” Chet said. “But I feel that we should, out of an abundance of caution, leave your icon behind.”

“Leave it behind ?” I said. “Why in the stars would we do that?”

“That icon is one of the most valuable things in the nowhere,” he explained in a hushed tone. “If we are captured, I would not want the pirates to gain possession of it. Instead, I feel we should bury it here. If we succeed in claiming a ship, we can return at some future date and recover it. If we fail, then the icon will be safe.”

“But we need it to fly out there!” I said. “Without it, we’ll lose our memories.”

“It is the ashes that are important for our immediate travels,” Chet said. “With a pocket full of those, we can go months without any dangerous effects. And so, we can bring those with us and risk their loss—but keep the much more valuable object hidden.”

Scud. There was a logic to his words. If this went wrong, I’d be much happier if my icon was safe. But at the same time, I had seen the way Chet stared at it. I wanted to trust him—I did trust him—but…if he wanted to take the icon, then persuading me to bury it here would be a great first step.

I wavered. Chet had treated me with nothing but honor so far, but my concerns hovered at the back of my mind. He’d appeared in such an unusual way, specifically when I needed him. M-Bot’s old pilot, conveniently missing the memories that could help him prove who he’d been.

“Hiding the icon is probably a good idea,” I said to Chet, so he wouldn’t sense my suspicions. I fished out the pouch and made a show of dumping the reality ashes back into my pocket—but I also palmed the pin. Then I buried the pouch as he’d suggested, except empty. Afterward I handed him a small pinch of ashes. “In case we get split up,” I told him.

He stared at the ashes an uncomfortably long time before tucking them away, and as his attention was on them I covertly slipped the pin into another pocket.

Soon, M-Bot came hovering in from behind. “There are three pirates working in the hangar,” he whispered to us. “And one other person in an inner room. No other heat signatures in the building.”

Right. That made six total in that hangar. The guard, the one at the window, the one farther inside, and three workers.

“There are ten other heat signatures,” M-Bot whispered. “Six in one hangar building, four in the other. I think those are all asleep. At least, their heat signatures indicate recumbent figures in smaller rooms.”

“Probably divided into three flights,” I guessed. “Each hangar houses a flight, and one group is left on duty to watch every time the others sleep.”

“Agreed,” M-Bot said. “There are four starships in the open hangar, and one is being worked on by the mechanics. Six people. Four pilots, two ground crew maybe?”

“That sounds likely,” I whispered. “Any way into that open hangar from behind?”

“There is a small open door at the rear,” M-Bot said. “Probably to let air in during the welding.”

“Awesome,” I said. “We should strike while the other two flights are asleep. Chet, your job is to make a distraction. Can you do something that isn’t so dangerous as to make them sound the alarm, but which has a good chance of drawing the attention of not only the guards but the three mechanics too?”

“Possibly,” he said. “The Broadsiders are known as the most levelheaded of the pirate factions. I’ve encountered other guides or groups who have traded with them, or even been employed by them for a short time. I think it will be safe enough to walk up with some reality ashes and offer to trade.”

“How likely are they to grab you?” I asked. “Steal the ashes and enslave you?”

“It’s a distinct possibility,” he admitted. “But again, I believe it’s a worthwhile risk. I don’t trust any pirates, but if I were going to approach a faction in this manner, the Broadsiders are the ones I’d choose. They should be interested in trading, but will want to keep a good eye—or ten, depending on the species—on me just to be careful.”

“Let’s go with it then,” I said. “M-Bot and I will sneak around back. Once you’ve distracted the pirates, we’ll slip into the hangar from behind and hot-wire a starfighter.”

“And you’re certain you can accomplish that feat?” Chet asked.

“Well, little in life is absolutely certain,” M-Bot said. “But I find it highly unlikely that these pirates have security I can’t instantly break. I’d say it’s more likely that you spontaneously grow a wart from your eye. You, um, wart-eye.”

I eyed him. “Chet’s right. That’s definitely a zero.”

“Ready then,” Chet said. “Let’s do this.”

“Once I have the ship,” I said, “we’ll activate the weapons and force the pirates to lie on the floor. Run for the ship and climb up into the cockpit. We’ll escape, and then we can send M-Bot to sneak back and grab the icon.”

“An excellent plan,” Chet said. “When do I make the distraction?”

“I’ll send M-Bot to signal you when I’m in position. Then count to a hundred before you go for it.”

We shared a nod, and then I withdrew to begin sneaking around to the other side of the base.

The first thing I did was send M-Bot back to spy on Chet.

“I buried the pouch for my pin under a rock near the trees,” I told him. “Covertly watch to see if he digs it up. If he doesn’t, stealthily join me behind the pirate base.”

“Uh…”

“I’ll explain later,” I said, and waved him off. He left.

My heart thundering in my chest, I continued to sneak around the side of the compound. It was just like creeping up on a rat, only there was more light and these doofs were less observant. I made it to the other side of the compound easily, and found a good spot to watch near a large boulder.

The hangar had a small, person-size doorway on this side. Through it I could clearly see the mechanics working on the landing gear of one of the starfighters—two diones and one of the feathered aliens I’d seen when I first entered the nowhere. They serviced a narrow, sleek vessel that was probably a scouting model. Sparks flew as they welded.

I waited, anxious. I didn’t want to be distrustful. Scud, Chet had helped me so much. But I couldn’t deny the way he looked at the icon, and it seemed incredibly suspicious that he’d asked me to leave it behind.

I nearly yelped when M-Bot hovered up to me a few minutes later. Stars, he was quiet.

“He doesn’t appear to be digging at anything, Spensa,” M-Bot whispered. “He’s just waiting.”

“Okay, good,” I said, relaxing.

“Do you think he’s going to betray us?”

“I don’t want to think that,” I said, “but I can’t help being suspicious.” I’d tried so hard to trust Brade, and where had that gotten me? “Go tell him I’m in position. He can start with the distraction.”

M-Bot zipped off again. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. My worry was unfounded.

Unless…

If I’d been planning to betray my companion, I wouldn’t merely steal the pin. I’d do something to disrupt the plan, making certain she got captured by the pirates. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about her following me as I made off with the prize.