Floating.
I became partially aware. Not awake, but aware. I was in the place where I had no shape, no senses other than my cytonic ones. I…remembered lying down, in my own room at the Broadsider base, after the skirmish.
It had been a full day. I’d fallen asleep. And now I searched outward, as I’d done on other nights. Seeking. Wishing.
Jorgen…I tried to find him, but felt like I was screaming into an empty void. I couldn’t feel anything. Like…like I was building a bonfire in a dark place, but with each new log the increased light only reaffirmed that the blackness extended into infinity.
I’d failed at this often enough recently that I nearly faded into unconsciousness. I had important work ahead of me; I would need to get my rest.
And yet…
Something felt off about my experiences lately in this sleeping realm. Yes. This was wrong. I hadn’t been able to see it before. But with a few more test shouts, I thought I picked out what was wrong here. My mental shouts were vanishing too quickly. As if I wasn’t screaming into a void, so much as into pillows.
Was…someone blocking me?
Scud. Was that why I hadn’t been able to find Jorgen?
I growled. Well, I made the mental equivalent of a growl. As one does. My soul sparked in the darkness.
I pressed forward through the void, feeling… Yes. A dampening. Like a cloud all around me, invisible. In the strange ways of the nowhere, it had always been there—literally on top of me—but I hadn’t been able to perceive it. Now I struggled forward, pushing. Fighting with my arms.
No, I thought. I’m not a stone. I’m not even a bonfire. I’m a star.
My essence, my soul, exploded with light—burning away the haze that surrounded me. No longer was I nothing in this place. I was a light, a glowing presence, a sphere of burning whiteness.
I used my ability to connect, to see, and sensed a presence ahead. It was easy, now that I’d escaped. Was that Jorgen? I latched onto it and pulled myself through.
I appeared in the somewhere, as I had before—illusory, ephemeral. But I hadn’t found Jorgen.
I’d found my enemies.
To my human eyes, Winzik looked virtually identical to Nuluba, though his exoskeleton was a deeper green. Varvax didn’t usually wear clothing, but he had on an official-ish sash. He sat in a large marble chair, carved intricately and inlaid with silver. I supposed that if one had an exoskeleton, cushioned seating wouldn’t be relevant.
The room was circular, lavishly paneled in wood, and had the feel of an office. A group of tenasi, with the same predatory air as Peg, was making a presentation to Winzik. They did wear clothing, and I recognized a military uniform instantly. Some things seemed pretty universal across species—and judging by the ranks of medals and badges on their jackets, these were admirals and generals.
A military briefing for the acting leader of the Superiority, I supposed. The screen, fortunately, didn’t show Detritus—but an unfamiliar planet, red and green. I couldn’t read any of the writing around it, and didn’t have my pin to translate, so I couldn’t figure out what it was.
“It’s ReDawn,” a voice said in English from behind me. “Funny you wouldn’t recognize it, considering the face you wore most of the time you were with us.”
I spun. Brade sat in a chair beside me. She wore her dark hair in a sharp buzz cut, and even through the uniform I could see she had muscles—the kind of build you rarely saw outside the more fanatical soldiers at the gym. She was spinning a pen between her fingers, watching me with an almost uninterested stare.
Winzik turned in his seat to glance back at her, barking an order in a language I didn’t know.
“Oh, stuff your complaints, Winzik,” Brade said, still spinning the pencil. “She’s here. Finally broke out of her cage. Took you long enough, Alanik—or Spensa, I guess. I expected you to make more noise inside that barrier. Do you know how much attention it required to keep it up?”
“How?” I demanded. “How did you manage that?”
“Took a little instruction from our new friends,” Brade said. She could see me, I realized. Without a reflective surface. “Unlocked a few abilities I’d been practicing.”
Winzik ordered the generals out and walked over, exoskeleton hands making circular motions as he spoke. Despite the language barrier, I could recognize his mannerisms—in fact, I could practically hear him saying “my, my” and “how aggressive” in his persnickety tone.
“The delvers think they can handle you,” Brade said. “I told them otherwise. You’re blunt, Spensa. I like that about you. No subtlety. You just go crashing through whatever stands between you and your goals.”
“I was subtle enough to fool you,” I snapped, projecting the thoughts at her. And with my growing powers, I caught a flutter of emotions she tried to hide. Shame, anger. She had trained with me and had never figured out what I really was. Until I’d handed her the truth, for her to stomp on.
Scud, I’d been so naive.
Winzik was saying something else. I wished I could figure out what it was.
“He wants me to trap your mind,” Brade said. “I’m not sure I can do it. The people I’ve been practicing on are far weaker than you. I won’t flinch this time though.”
Her mind slammed into mine, crushing against me. I immediately felt like I was in a box—that was shrinking. I lashed out, panicked, furious. I summoned my anger, as I had last time we’d clashed. And I threw it at her.
As she’d warned, Brade didn’t waver. She was expecting my counterattack.
So I started to glow. I stoked what was inside me, the powerful light. The brilliance that was my soul. I felt Brade’s surprise, though she didn’t want to project the emotion. She was shocked. She…thought I was like a delver, in ways that frightened her.
And something else heard.
I see you!
The voice was distant, but loud. A cytonic shout vibrated through me, then something slammed into Brade, making her gasp and lose her focus. It was raw, this voice, as if untrained. If I was a sword, it was a bludgeon—a big one.
I flared with light and broke through Brade’s box, and together with the new voice we shoved her back, then escaped into the nowhere.
I was chased by that extremely loud voice. It had saved me, but it seemed a monster of some sort. I spun toward it, not wanting to put my back to it as it crashed into me. And…
…hugged me?
Jorgen? I thought.
Where have you been? he thought at me. Why haven’t you contacted me? Spin, it’s been weeks!
I tried! I said, forcing my mind to visualize him. For the moment we floated together in the void, our essences touching. Like we were two swimmers in a deep, vast, endless ocean clinging to one another.
I’m sorry I didn’t contact you, I said. Brade did something.
Brade? he asked.
The one who was holding me when you arrived, I said. How did you find me?
I’ve been practicing, he explained. I can’t hyperjump, no matter how hard I try. But Alanik says that’s not uncommon. Cytonics have different specialties. She says I can learn hyperjumping—that every one of us can technically learn every talent, but for some of us there are individual talents that are very difficult. We all have weaknesses and strengths.
Wait, I said. Alanik?
It’s complicated, he said. We’re holding out, trying to gather help. But tell me about you. Spensa, you’re glowing. Like a star. I could see you even from a distance!
I’ve been practicing too, I said.
Are you a pirate queen yet?
He said it with such fondness. There were so many images wrapped up in what he’d said—this communication had much more depth than ordinary words. For example, I knew instantly that he was joking—but also a little serious.
He loved my love of stories. He imagined me in one of those stories, and was completely confident in me. More confident than I was of myself. Saints…that was so good to hear. So good to know. His picture of me was of someone courageous, resourceful, and inspiring.
That was not what I deserved for how I’d treated him in our first weeks knowing each other. Fortunately, I could also feel Jorgen responding to my own picture of him. Upright, honest, caring. A leader, the best one I’d known.
The moment was as perfect a one as I’d ever felt. The two of us sharing our idealized versions of one another—knowing we could never live up to them, yet knowing it didn’t matter. Because by simply being near one another, we resonated and became a little more—a little better—for the knowledge, support, and trust.
Then it was ruined as eyes started to appear around us. Bright white holes, the attention of the delvers. It wasn’t my glow that attracted them. It was Jorgen. Scud, he was loud.
Go, Jorgen, I said as the eyes surrounded us. I’ll contact you later, once their attention dies down.
I felt his essence brush mine. I felt his affection, his passion. But then he was gone.
I turned to face the delvers. I kept thinking that with effort I could get through to them. After all, Chet had explained they were all the same individual. Not a group mind, but somehow all identical. So if I’d been able to change the mind of one, shouldn’t I be able to do the same for the others?
I’d failed at this before, but I had to try again. After all, it had taken three attempts to get a ship. So, as the eyes surrounded me, I tried to project a sensation of smallness.
I tried to shrink us all down, to narrow our perspective. As their minds touched mine, I tried to show them. Infinity went both ways—we could be as expansive as a universe, but we could be as small as a mote.
I showed them what I saw. Maksim, with his goofy smile and ready, welcoming manner. Shiver, who did so well understanding people who were very different from her. Nuluba, who so desperately wanted to make up for the ways the Superiority had wronged the peoples of the galaxy.
See us, I told them. See that we are alive.
We know, they sent back. Oh, we know.
They just didn’t care.
In that moment I saw things as they did. Yes, they’d initially refused to accept that all the noises in the somewhere were alive. Then I’d changed one of them. When I’d done that, the rest had responded against what I’d done.
In a way, it didn’t matter which one of them I’d changed. Because as soon as I’d done it, the others had put up defenses. Like how you might get off one sniper shot at people in a group, but then the rest would duck for cover.
I would never persuade another delver, not like I’d done before. Because now they hated us even more, knowing we were alive. Because now we weren’t just random annoyances. We were intentionally trying to bring them pain. We were dangerous.
We needed to be exterminated.
The horror of that idea made me flee from before them. And I was getting good at hiding. I pretended to fade away, to sleep, but then quested out with my ever-strengthening ability to listen. I thought I’d heard something back there, and was rewarded with a voice.
My, my, Brade said to the delvers, sending Winzik’s words into the nowhere. Was that painful? You see, she is too difficult to control. They all are. You saw how another came? They are multiplying. Getting louder.
That referred to Jorgen and the noise he’d made in rescuing me. Oh, scud.
I felt the delvers mull over his words, and I remembered what Brade had said. She’d wanted me to be “loud” as I tried to break through the dampening she’d put on me. As if…as if she’d purposely meant to provoke me. So that the delvers would…
We hear and hurt, the delvers said. But we can extinguish the noises on our own.
Can you? Winzik said. My, my. It seems that when you come to our realm, you are confused. You are as unskilled with this place as we are when in yours! You attacked Detritus and Starsight, yet failed to kill even a single cytonic. Many years have passed, and you have failed each time. We multiply. The noise multiplies. I will stop it. If you help me.
They hated this idea. I could feel their hatred. But also their agreement. We accept your deal, noise, the delvers said. We will do as you instruct in exchange for you stopping the ones that torment us.
Excellent, Winzik sent. So very, very wise of you.
I felt their deal snap into place. The delvers would work for Winzik. I realized what had happened just as I slid into true unconsciousness—and as a result, nightmares haunted me the entire time I slept.
