Starsight (US)

by Brandon Sanderson

  I snapped my mouth closed. Cuna gave me an inquisitive look, but I just shook my head and smiled as we kept walking.

  But scud, the Krell. When I’d first traveled into space and confronted them a few months back, they’d been terrified of me. Perhaps that had to do with the way my people had nearly conquered the galaxy, but these things all seemed to be timid. How could they be the same mighty force that had kept humankind imprisoned on Detritus for eighty years?

  This place had to be some kind of false front, I decided. A propaganda strategy meant to improve the Superiority’s image. It made sense. Create a big hub where lots of races visit, then pretend to be harmless and unassuming.

  More confident that I understood what was going on, I continued to survey my surroundings. The other most common alien race here was the ones like Cuna, my guide. They wore a variety of clothing types, from robes to casual trousers and shirts, and seemed to come in three different skin shades. Crimson, blue, and dark purple.

  “Overwhelming, isn’t it?” Cuna asked.

  I nodded. That was the truth, at least.

  “If I may be so bold,” Cuna continued. “Your people were wise in agreeing to send us a pilot. If you do well in this preliminary program, we can enter into a more formal deal with your people. In exchange for an entire force of pilots, we will offer the UrDail citizenship. It has been a long time coming; I’m glad to see relations between us normalizing.”

  “It’s a good deal,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “You get pilots. We get to join the Superiority.”

  “As secondary citizens,” Cuna said. “Of course.”

  “Of course,” I said, though I must have sounded hesitant, because Cuna glanced at me.

  “You aren’t clear on the distinction?”

  “I’m sure the politicians understand,” I said. “I’m just a pilot.”

  “Still, it would be good for you to know the stakes of your test here. You see, your people are special. Most species who haven’t yet joined the Superiority are relatively primitive—with a low intelligence designation. They tend to be brutal, warlike, and technologically backward.

  “The UrDail, on the other hand, have been a spacefaring people for centuries now. You have nearly reached primary intelligence and have a functioning world government. Normally, you’d have been invited among our ranks generations ago. Except for one big black mark.”

  Cytonics? I wondered.

  “Humans,” Cuna said as we walked. “You fought alongside the human scourge during the Third Human War a century back.”

  “They forced us to do so,” I answered.

  “I would not seek to dispute the facts as you present them,” Cuna said. “Suffice it to say that many within the Superiority are convinced you are too aggressive to join us.”

  “Too aggressive?” I said, frowning. “But…didn’t you come to us looking to recruit fighter pilots?”

  “It is a delicate balance,” Cuna said. “We have some very special projects that require pilots, but we don’t want to corrupt our military with those who are too aggressive. Some say that your people’s proximity to humans has let their ways infiltrate your society.”

  “And…what do you think?” I asked.

  “I am part of the Department of Species Integration,” Cuna replied. “Personally I believe there is a home for many different types of species in the Superiority. You can be an advantage to us, should you prove worthy.”

  “Sounds great,” I said dryly, then immediately winced at the tone. Maybe I should just try not to say anything.

  Cuna eyed me, but when they spoke, their voice was calm. “Surely you can see the advantages to your people. You’ll have access to our galactic hubs such as this station, and the right to buy passage and cargo space on our trade ships. You will no longer be trapped in your little planetary system, but can experience the galaxy at large.”

  “We already can though,” I said. “I came here on my own.”

  Cuna stopped, and at first I worried I’d said something wrong. Then Cuna smiled. It was a distinctly disturbing expression on their face, predatory, showing too many teeth. “Well,” they said. “That is another matter which we shall discuss.”

  Cuna turned and waved their hand toward a small, narrow building alongside the road. Squeezed between two larger structures, it was three stories high. Like all the buildings on the platform, it seemed to have been made of metal originally—but it had been painted to give it a fake brick look.

  “Here is the building we offer for your quarters,” Cuna said. “It is large for one individual, but it is our hope that—once you’ve proven yourself—we can house an entire squadron or more of your pilots here. We thought it appropriate to give you this to begin. As you can see, it has a private docking berth on the top, should you wish to land your ship here. It is conveniently located near the main docks, however—and close to several parks and markets.”

  Cuna started up the short steps leading to the building.

  “I don’t like this,” M-Bot said in my ear. “Spensa? If you get killed in an ambush, I’m going to be very surprised.”

  I hesitated. Could this be some sort of trap? To what end? They could have just blown me out of the sky—or at least tried to—during my approach.

  “That was me practicing lying,” M-Bot noted. “I wouldn’t be surprised, because I just anticipated it. But I would be disappointed. Well, I’d simulate disappointment.”

  I headed up the steps. Cuna did seem to think that I really was Alanik. It didn’t feel like a trap.

  Together, we stepped into the building. I was used to being the shortest person in the room, but Cuna’s limber build—which was too willowy to feel human—made me feel not just short, but squat and awkward as well. This building had high ceilings and doorways, and even the counters were a tad too tall for me. It seemed to have been built for people of a taller race, though Alanik had been about my height.

  Cuna led me to a small room at the front that was lit by recessed ceiling lights and had a window looking out at the street. The room was comfortable-looking, furnished with plush chairs and a boardroom-style table. The walls had been painted to make them seem like wood—though tapping one with my fingernail proved they were metal.

  Cuna sat down with a graceful motion, setting their tablet on the table, then smiled at me again with that too-predatory look. I lingered near the door, unwilling to sit and put my back to my exit.

  “You are what we call a cytonic, Alanik,” Cuna said to me. “Your people don’t have true faster-than-light travel or hyperdrives, so you have to rely on cytonic people. And since you have very few, you remain primarily locked into your backwater of the galaxy.”

  Cuna met my eyes, and I could swear I saw careful calculation in there.

  I felt increasingly on edge. They seemed to know more about Alanik than I would’ve wanted. “What can you tell me?” I asked. “About what I am. About what I can do.”

  Cuna settled back in the seat, lacing their fingers, lips drawn to an emotionless line. “What you do is dangerous, Emissary Alanik. Surely you’ve felt the attention of the delvers on you, in the negative realm where you go between moments when you’re engaging in a hyperspace jump?”

  I nodded. “I call it the nowhere.”

  “I’ve never experienced it myself,” Cuna said idly. “And the delvers? You’ve felt them?”

  “I see eyes watching me. The eyes of something that lives in that place.”

  “That is them,” Cuna said. “Centuries ago, my kind learned firsthand how dangerous the delvers are. Thirteen of the…creatures entered into our realm. They rampaged, destroying planet after planet.

  “Eventually, we realized that our cytonics had drawn them to us—and once here, delvers could hear our communications. Not just cytonic communication; they could hear even things like radio wav
es. We made the painful transition away from using cytonics, and even normal communications. We made our planets, and our fleets, silent.

  “The delvers, blessedly, left. It took decades, but one by one they faded back to their realm. The galaxy crept out of its proverbial shell—but with new understandings and new rules.”

  “No cytonics,” I whispered. “Be careful with wireless signals, even radio.”

  “Yes,” Cuna said. “And avoid using AI, which angers the delvers. Most normal communications aren’t capable of bringing the creatures into our realm—but once they’re here, they hear us talking, and it draws them to feast. Even now, centuries later, we hold to these prohibitions. Though no delvers are in our realm, it is better to be safe.”

  I swallowed. “I’m…surprised that you let any cytonics continue to live.”

  Cuna raised their hand to their throat in an expression that I interpreted as shock. “What would you have us do?”

  “Attack anyone who has cytonics.”

  “Barbaric! That sort of behavior would not be becoming of people who have achieved primary intelligence. No, we do not exterminate species. Even the human scourge has been carefully sectioned off and isolated, rather than destroyed!”

  I knew that was, at least in part, a lie. They’d been trying to destroy us recently.

  “Such violent measures aren’t necessary,” Cuna said. “A single cytonic here and there, like yourself, is not a danger. Particularly untrained as you are. It took our early cytonics generations to progress to the skills necessary to draw the delvers. So you are a danger, yes, but not an immediate one.

  “For now we feel it is best to try to persuade people like yours to follow our ways, rather than risking…peril to us all. You see, we of the Superiority have developed better means of traveling the stars—hyperdrives that don’t draw delvers.”

  “I know of those,” I said. And I’m going to steal one.

  “The entire galaxy will be far safer once every race makes use of the Superiority’s hyperdrive ships. This is the express implication of our offer: if you provide us with pilots, we will grant you citizenship—and the right to passage on our safe FTL ships. You don’t get the technology itself; we must keep it secure. But your merchants, tourists, and officials can use our ships, just like everyone else in the Superiority.

  “We are the only ones in the galaxy with access to this technology; you will find no black market FTL drives for sale, because they do not exist. No race has succeeded in stealing even a single hyperdrive from us. And so, the only safe way to travel the stars is to gain our favor. Prove to me that your pilots are as skilled as reported, and in return I will open the galaxy to you.”

  I didn’t trust that propaganda as the truth. Of course Cuna would say that the technology wasn’t possible to steal. Unfortunately, they also said that others had tried.

  I had to find a way to succeed where others had failed, and while the Superiority might be watching me. “But why do you need pilots?” I asked, trying to get more information. “The Superiority’s population is enormous. Surely you have plenty of your own pilots. What is this special project you want us for?”

  It’s for fighting my people as Jorgen said, isn’t it? It could be no coincidence that the Superiority would start recruiting pilots for some special mission now, after my people had started to break out of Detritus.

  Cuna sat for a moment, meeting my eyes. “This is a very delicate matter, Emissary Alanik. I would appreciate your discretion.”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  “We have…reason to believe the delvers are watching us,” Cuna said softly, “and that they might soon return.”

  I drew in a sharp breath. Memories of what had happened to the original inhabitants of Detritus were fresh in my mind from the video. Cuna’s words should have been shocking, but instead they hit me with a numb sense of reality. Like the anticipated last note of a song.

  “This is not the fault of cytonics,” Cuna continued. “Not this time. We fear that the delvers have simply decided to turn their attention upon our realm again.”

  “What do we do?” I asked.

  “We will not again be forced to cower and simply wait until the delvers decide to leave. We have been developing a secret weapon to fight them, should it be needed. Unfortunately, in order to put this weapon into action, we need skilled fighter pilots. Contrary to what you assume, we have a very small military. A…side effect of our peaceful natures. The Superiority governs not through force of might, but through technological enlightenment.”

  “Meaning,” I said, “that you don’t fight against races you don’t like—you just leave them alone, without FTL. You don’t need to have a military since you control travel instead.”

  Cuna laced their fingers again and didn’t reply to that. It seemed enough of a confirmation to me, and suddenly a lot of things made sense. Why didn’t the Superiority field a large number of fighters to destroy my people? Why did I meet so few manned ships or skilled aces during our fights? Why only a hundred drones at once? The Superiority simply didn’t have many fighter pilots.

  I’d assumed the only way to rule an empire was to have a vast military. They’d figured out another method. If you could absolutely control access to hyperdrives, you didn’t need to fight your enemies. It took hundreds of years to travel between planets at sublight speeds. Nobody could attack you if they couldn’t get to you.

  Cuna leaned forward. “I am not unimportant in the government here, Alanik, and have taken a personal interest in your people. I consider the delvers to be a serious threat. If the UrDail provide the pilots I need, I could make everything move smoothly for your people—perhaps paving the way for your people to be offered primary citizenship.”

  “All right,” I said. “How do we begin?”

  “Though I am part of the group planning to fight the delvers, I am not in charge of the operation. It is instead run by the Department of Protective Services. They are primarily tasked with resolving external threats to the Superiority. For example, they are in charge of containing the human scourge.”

  “The…humans?”

  “Yes. I assure you, your old…enemies are no threat to you anymore. The Department of Protective Services maintains observation platforms above their prisons, and is careful to see that no humans ever escape.”

  Prisons.

  Plural. Prisons.

  We weren’t the only ones. I held in a shout for joy, just barely—in part because my mood was dampened by the next realization. This Department of Protective Services that Cuna mentioned…that had to be the group we called the Krell.

  So I was going to be working directly for the Krell?

  “You’ll need to pass their test to become a pilot,” Cuna said. “They have allowed me to insert a few specially chosen people in the tryouts. You see, there are disagreements among the departments, as we each have our…theories on how to best deal with the delvers. I see your kind as perfect for the duty. You have the martial traditions from your days of unfortunate involvement with humans—but at the same time you are peaceful enough to be trusted.

  “I want you to prove me right. Try out for the project tomorrow, then represent my interests in the training that follows. If you succeed, then I will personally shepherd your people safely to their citizenship.”

  Cuna smiled again. I shivered at the dangerous way their lips curled. Suddenly I felt way out of my league. I’d originally assumed Cuna to be some minor bureaucrat who had been assigned to Alanik. That wasn’t the case at all. Cuna wanted to use Alanik as a pawn in some political game far beyond my understanding.

  I realized I was sweating, then wondered how the hologram would represent sweat dripping down my face—or if it even could. I licked my lips, my mouth having gone dry before Cuna’s careful stare.

  Don’t stress about their politics, I told myself.
You only have one mission: steal a hyperdrive. Do whatever it takes to gain their trust so they let you near one.

  “I…I’ll do my best,” I said.

  “Excellent. I will see you at the test tomorrow; the coordinates and instructions are on this datapad, which I will leave with you. Be warned, however, that your cytonic abilities will be muted here on Starsight—and you won’t be able to hyperjump away unless you fly out to a prescribed point first—because of our cytoshield.”

  Cuna stood, leaving their tablet on the table. “I’ve included the details about the delver project on this datapad as well—though specifics on the weapon itself are classified. If you need to reach me before tomorrow, send a message to…”

  Cuna trailed off, then turned their head and flashed their teeth toward the window in a strange sign of aggression.

  “Well,” they said, “that’s going to be a bother.”

  “What?” I asked. Then I heard it. Sirens. Within seconds, a ship with flashing lights lowered down from the sky to land in front of our building.

  “Let me handle this,” Cuna said, and opened the door to walk out.

  I hesitated in the doorway, baffled. Then I saw the person who climbed out of the ship.

  It was a human woman.

  A human. She was young, perhaps in her early twenties, and wore an unfamiliar blue-and-red uniform. A Krell climbed out of the ship after her, like an armored knight, though the “armor” carapace was deep green and crystalline.

  “What’s happening?” M-Bot asked. “Are those sirens?”

  I ignored him and tore out of the building, my hand thrust into the pocket of my flight suit—holding the small destructor pistol I carried there. A human.

  Scud. I stopped on the stairs, and Cuna moved out in front of me, stepping with a smooth and calm gait. I tried to force myself to relax as the human and the Krell walked up to us.