Брендон Сандерсон - Cytonic

Does this work? he asked, plainly trying to do as I asked.

It does, I said.

Excellent! What is your situation, then?

Captured, I said. Chained to the wall and greasing some parts for starship repair.

Could be worse, Chet said. What is the plan?

I haven’t really gotten that far.

Fair enough! Chet said. But this need only be a minor setback. In fact, it could be for the best! We must find a way to visit the next location on the Path of Elders, which is deep within Broadsider territory. I had worried about them hunting us down once we stole a ship. It would be difficult to find time to indulge in a vision while under fire.

But with you infiltrating their base, perhaps we can find a way to prevent that. Could you see if you can learn how they patrol their territory?

There was a certain forced boisterousness to his words. Connected to him as I was now, I could see that more clearly than ever. He wasn’t simply a bundle of endless optimism; he chose to speak this way deliberately.

You are in pain, I said to him. I’m worried about you.

Don’t be. Just focus on getting us a ship. Ha! Those pirates have no idea what they’ve done by bringing you in among them, I must say.

I found myself smiling. And…well, he did have a point. I could use this. Being captured by pirates was exactly the kind of awesome thing that happened in the stories; it was merely another interesting challenge to overcome. Plus, I was inadvertently being given a chance to practice my cytonic skills.

Except I couldn’t gloss over how my mistake had landed us in this situation. I had to come clean.

Chet, I said. I’m sorry. I messed all of this up.

You mustn’t blame yourself, Miss Nightshade, he replied. Sometimes plans don’t work out.

Except, I said, it was because of me. I…changed the plan at the last minute, sneaking into a different hangar than we’d discussed.

Why would you do that? he asked.

Because…I didn’t trust you, Chet. I thought you were going to betray me and steal my icon.

I felt the immediate stab of pain those words caused him.

You…did? Chet said.

I’m sorry, I said. I…well, I let my worries get the better of me.

Scud, it hurt worse, feeling firsthand his sense of betrayal. Why? he asked. Have I not endeavored to aid you in your entire quest? Have I not been a worthy traveling companion?

You have! I said. I just… I’m sorry, Chet. This is my problem, not yours.

I see, he sent back. Yes, um. Well, we must move forward! Let the past be the past, one might say. Um. Yes…

Never had words sounded more forced to me. I could feel his anguish; being trusted was important to him, for reasons I couldn’t sort through—I could only feel what was on the surface, not his deeper thoughts.

Well, Chet said. I will recuperate here, I think. You soldier forward! Yes.

I wanted to apologize again. I wanted to explain the way I was hurt by Brade’s betrayal—and the way I was realizing how bad I was at judging people. But he wanted to be left alone. I could feel that. I had to allow him that.

I broke off the connection, feeling sick and worthless. Scud. So I threw myself into greasing the parts and kept an eye on the pirates, distracting myself from my shame by trying to learn what I could about them.

Over the next few hours, I got a glimpse of what it took to keep a flight of starfighters in the air without a proper support infrastructure. Judging from the way they talked, they spent an incredible amount of time maintaining the spacecraft—and figuring out how to make replacement parts out of salvage.

I’d thought our settlement on Detritus had been ragtag, but we’d had the forges and manufactories. We’d had tens of thousands of people, and our entire society had been devoted to keeping a few hundred starfighters in combat. The Broadsiders didn’t have any of that. From what I could tell, they were under twenty in number, and flew nine starfighters.

By the time I was halfway through the stack of parts, I had recovered some self-respect and was focused on the problem at hand. Yes, I’d made a mistake. Yes, I’d hurt Chet. I needed to keep pressing forward, however. The best way to make it up to him was to steal a ship, then get us through Broadsider territory to the next stop on the Path of Elders.

Right. First step: try to learn what I could of these pirates. This was an opportunity as much as it was a setback. I turned my attention to the rest of the parts, and soon reached the last of them—a large gear. I set it onto the cloth with a clink.

“Hey,” I called to the pirates, “I’m finished.”

The human with the scraggly beard walked over, joined by the varvax. I kept extra close attention on that one. They were the race who had kept my people enslaved, and I couldn’t trust them.

“I could use some more work,” I said to them. “What do you want me to do next?”

“You want more work?” the human asked.

“Better than sitting around feeling sorry for myself,” I said.

After a shared look with the varvax, the human dragged over one of the landing gear assemblies, with the wheel still attached. “You know how to strip this and relubricate it?”

I nodded, fishing in the tool bin the varvax had provided. I wasn’t an expert in repairs or engineering—Rig had always been the one who knew that kind of stuff—but he’d taught me how to service M-Bot’s original ship during our days rebuilding it. I could handle breaking down a landing gear assembly.

The varvax returned to her work, but as the human turned away, I asked, “So what’s your story?”

He paused, then squatted beside me, watching as I somewhat inexpertly disassembled the mechanism. Was he judging me for using the wrong socket wrench three separate times?

“I’m not that interesting,” he finally said. “But I’ve got the same question for you. How do you know how to do this? Your master really let you play with machinery?”

“My master?”

“You said you were a thief,” he said. “But before you escaped you were a pet, right? Like me? A kept human? Or…no, were you in one of the research labs?”

Ahh…right. He must have been a human like Brade—some were kept as novelties around the Superiority. Like kings had kept lions back on Old Earth. Fearsome creatures from another world, turned into showpieces. I could imagine the “civilized” peoples of the Superiority being delighted by the dangerous humans who had once tried to conquer the galaxy.

“I’m surprised they put you in here,” I said. “You must have been quite valuable as a curiosity.”

“Yeah, well,” he said. “It’s all fun and games until your pet tries to steal the family starship and escape. Too aggressive, they decided. As if they hadn’t known what I was when they bought me.” He held out a hand. “I’m Maksim.”

“Spin,” I replied, taking it.

“Don’t feel too bad about being locked up,” he said, gesturing to the light-line. “The Broadsiders are a good group. Show the captain you’re not going to run the first chance you get, and you can work your way up like the rest of us. Hell, if you’re as good with repairs as you seem, you’ll be in charge of a ground crew before too long.”

I looked at the mediocre work I’d been doing on the wheel housing. This was what passed for being good with repairs around here?

“What if I never get to where I won’t run?” I asked.