Брендон Сандерсон - Cytonic

At that moment, I got attacked.

There were three of them. Two birdlike humanoids with wing-arms leaped around the tree from the right to tackle me, and a blue-skinned dione came in from the left—probably to go for the rifle, which I had slung over that shoulder.

It was a good plan, but man were they sloppy. The first avian slipped as it jumped, tripping the other one and giving me enough warning to turn and start raising my weapon. That almost let me shoot them—but the energy blast went wild as the dione got a hand on the gun.

They grunted, trying to brute-force wrestle the rifle away. The wrong move; even I knew that from my limited DDF training. They should have slapped the barrel, controlled the weapon with one hand, and then gone for my face with the other.

I shoved the dione away, but the two avians tackled me. Grunting, I rammed the butt of the gun into one of them, earning me a squawk of pain. I pulled hard, twisting, and started to wiggle free.

Unfortunately, just as I was about to slide out of the writhing mess of people, someone else grabbed me from behind. A feathered fourth enemy? The group had apparently been smart enough to leave someone in reserve.

I struggled against the fourth attacker, disoriented, as a fifth creature bodychecked me. I didn’t get a good look at this last guy—he was furry, and roughly the size of a refrigerator. While I’m…well, not. I’d stretched the truth to get 152 centimeters listed on my pilot records.

Being small is an advantage in a cockpit. Not so much in a fistfight. I’d like to think I gave a good showing, but in seconds I was lying on the ground completely disarmed, with the furry one sitting on top of me and one of the avians pointing my own rifle at my head.

“So,” the avian with the gun said, the translated words chirping out from my pin, “what have we here? A Superiority soldier? Well, that’s a nice surprise. A human even! I’m not afraid of your kind, human—but keep struggling, and I’ll shoot you and be done.”

I groaned and stopped fighting. I reached my hands out to the sides, where they were roughly grabbed and held down. At last I was released from the buttward side of that alien and was able to get a deep breath of fresh air.

My captors pulled me to a sitting position and bound my hands behind my back. I focused on the avian with the gun. I’d heard of this species. The heklo, I thought they were called? They had long beaks, kind of like a stork, but their feathers were of radiant colors. The combat fatigues they wore had no sleeves, but the feathers on their arms didn’t seem large enough to support flight. They seemed…more a vestige, like how humans had hair instead of fur.

“What do you want to do with it, Vlep?” asked the furry alien. It was vaguely gorillalike. I’d seen this species too. Burls, if I remembered their name correctly.

“That depends,” Vlep—the armed one, and the obvious leader—said. “Human, why did they send you through? This portal is for exiles, yet here you are, uniformed and armed.”

Right. I was wearing a Superiority jumpsuit and jacket. That, with the weapon, had led them to assume I was working with the enemy. The comment also told me something else: the wall was a portal, and this place was where people appeared once the Superiority exiled them. I’d seen that happen. In fact…

I looked at the burl. “Gul’zah?” I asked. I’d watched a burl get exiled into the nowhere a few days ago.

“Ha,” the burl said. “We grabbed him when he came in.”

“So that’s why you’re here,” Vlep said. “Hunting that specific fugitive? Curious.”

I wasn’t, of course. But I could now see that the burl who had captured me had slightly different features. I wasn’t the best at distinguishing one alien from another, but this burl was shorter, more stout, and had a wider face.

So, this group—whoever they were—had an outpost here and captured people who were sent in. Why though? Exiles wouldn’t have anything valuable on them. And who was the cytonic I’d contacted? Had I led these to me by using my powers? Or was I just jumping to conclusions?

I reached out with my senses again, seeking that mind. It wasn’t one of these… It was a little farther away.

What? the voice said as I brushed it with my mind. I told you to be quiet.

I’ve been taken captive, I said. By a group of raiders or something, who were watching the portal where I came in.

Pirates, the mind sent. This is Cannonade territory. They’re a rough group. Hold your tongue; don’t let them know what you are. And please stay quiet cytonically. You’ll draw the delvers!

“Not talking, I see,” Vlep said, pulling my attention back. “Hold her tight.”

The dione and another heklo grabbed me while Vlep began rummaging through my pockets. I struggled again—it felt violating to have their hands all over me—though I’d expected to be searched.

Soon Vlep pulled some of the silver dust from my pocket. “Ha! A nice haul.” He dug in it, then brought out the pin.

His eyes went wide, which seemed to be an expression of surprise for his species. The burl let out a low growl, which…might also have been surprise?

“A reality icon?” Vlep asked, then looked at me. “You must be someone important.”

My heart leaped as he closed a feathered hand around the pin, but it seemed like a bad idea to show how important that pin was to me, so I forced myself to relax. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well, thanks for the treasure,” Vlep said. He tucked the pin into a small pouch.

“Do we shoot her now?” the burl asked. “I don’t like the idea of taking a soldier as a servant. Too dangerous.”

“Could be useful in a fight,” the dione said, “if they join us. Imagine having a human on our side.”

“Broadsiders have one,” Vlep said, “and he’s useless. They don’t live up to their reputations. Trust me. But we’re not going to shoot her—the Superiority sent her in armed. So she’s valuable to them. We’ll ransom her back to the mining base.”

So there were mining stations in here. At least that gave me a good lead on how I might get out, once I accomplished what I needed to in here.

Right now, my best chance at escape was to get the pirates to underestimate me. So I slumped down. “I’m going to get into so much trouble for this…” I moaned.

“Ha!” Vlep said. “Well, good news! Now that we know Gul’zah is valuable, maybe we can ransom him too! Double the haul.” He looked at the pouch. “Triple. Or more. Stand her up. Let’s get moving. Judging from that roar earlier, there’s a grig in here somewhere. I’d rather not run into it.”

He started off through the jungle, and the others pulled me along. I made a few token complaints and struggles, then slumped as I walked, pretending to be defeated.

Secretly I studied them. These pirates clearly weren’t trained soldiers. Vlep didn’t understand muzzle control; he turned and absently swung the weapon toward the others when they spoke to him. I wasn’t surprised. The Superiority denounced what they called “aggression,” and its people were unlikely to have combat training. Winzik and his cronies liked it that way. It made people easier to control.

So maybe this group had formed from exiles? A couple had weapons at their hips—a knife on the burl, and what appeared to be a pistol at Vlep’s side. But they hadn’t used those on me. They’d purposely taken me alive. Though perhaps they’d been surprised by how well I fought, and how well I’d been armed.