Starsight (US)

by Brandon Sanderson

  I pulled the shuttle out of the way of another destructor barrage, then grunted as its booster ignited again, towing me back. I tried to compensate by using M-Bot’s projections on my canopy, but my efforts weren’t terribly effective.

  “Please,” the pilot said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you into this. Leave me to my fate. It is what I deserve.”

  “Like hell,” I said, grunting again and trying to steer as the malfunctioning booster cut out. While it was down, I towed the craft toward Hesho’s flagship—which was firing with increased desperation at the nearby drones.

  “Spensa,” M-Bot said. “That last turn you made let my cameras get a glimpse at the ship’s boosters. There’s a chunk of stone lodged in the left one’s expression valve. Getting that free might fix the problem, as the booster is locked into a loop, trying to fire up—then finding the obstruction and triggering an emergency power-down.”

  “All right,” I said. “Let me just crawl out and fix it then.”

  “Ha ha. You’d die!”

  I grinned, getting ready for the booster to ignite again.

  “That…was sarcasm, right?” M-Bot said. “Just checking. Because I don’t think you actually want to leave your ship. Explosive decompression would—”

  “It was a joke,” I said, then cursed as the booster on the broken ship ignited again. Unfortunately, I couldn’t count on Hesho for help. The larger, slower fighter had its hands full holding off four drones.

  “Open a general line,” I said to M-Bot. “I think I’m going to need another ship to pull this off.” A light on my comm blinked on. “This is a general distress call,” I said. “I need a ship with a light-lance to help me at…coordinates 150.+60.554 from reference beacon 34.”

  I was met by silence. The battlefield had emptied a little, as many of the prospective pilots had given up. The ones remaining were those skilled enough to survive—though many flew unarmed personal crafts, and focused only on dodging and staying ahead of the drones.

  In that, it seemed the test had been effective. It had quickly identified those who could fly under pressure. The debris of destroyed ships indicated, however, that the cost had been brutal.

  “Leave me,” the dione pilot said again. “I’m sorry. My trouble is not your trouble.”

  I eyed the Krell drones that were lurking nearby. “Hold on a sec,” I said, then disengaged my light-lance. Suddenly free and unencumbered, I swooped around and started firing on the drones. I scored a couple of hits, but their shields were still up—so all I did was send them into basic defensive maneuvers.

  “I could really use some help,” I said over the general line. “Please. Anyone.”

  “Well…,” a breezy, feminine voice said. “Do you promise not to shoot me?”

  “Yes, of course!” I said. “Why would I shoot you?”

  “Um…” A ship hovered out from behind a nearby asteroid.

  A Krell drone! I put my finger on the trigger, turning my ship toward it and aiming quickly.

  “You said you wouldn’t shoot me!” the voice said.

  Wait. The drone was talking to me?

  “Oh!” M-Bot said. “Ask her if she’s an AI!”

  “Are you an AI?” I asked over the line.

  “No, of course not!” the voice said. “But I’m willing to help. What do you need?”

  “Go chase those drones away from that disabled shuttle,” I said. “Give me a little breathing room to try some precise flying.”

  “Very well,” the voice said.

  The little drone boosted out from her hiding place and moved in. My dione friend in the shuttle let out a fatalistic “So it ends” as the talking drone got close—but the drone did as I’d asked, instead chasing away the enemy ships.

  “All right,” I said. “M-Bot, highlight on my canopy that rock jammed into the shuttle’s booster. Then narrow my light-lance’s beam to the tightest possible setting.”

  “Ooooohhhh,” he said. “Done.”

  I used the break in fighting to get in just behind the shuttle, positioning myself carefully and waiting for the right moment. I wasn’t nearly as good a shot as Kimmalyn or Arturo—my specialties were flying fast and pulling stunts. Fortunately, M-Bot highlighted my target, and I had enough breathing room to sit and fine-tune my aim.

  There. I picked out the rock as a brightly glowing speck of light rammed into the metal casing of the shuttle’s left booster. It was maybe the size of a person’s head.

  I speared the stone with my light-lance, then I spun on my axis and boosted the other direction. The stone popped out with a jolt.

  “I have control back!” the dione pilot said. “Booster is online again!”

  “Great,” I said. “Follow me.”

  The shuttle fell in behind me, flying in a blessedly straight line as we approached Hesho’s ship. The Krell there scattered as soon as we three formed up together; as I’d hoped, they weren’t interested in fighting organized flights of enemies. I lost track of the talking drone. I thought maybe she had gone back to hiding beside an asteroid.

  “Captain Hesho,” I said, making a private comm line for the three of us, “I found us another ship.”

  “Excellent, Captain Alanik,” Hesho said. “Newcomer, what are your armaments and specialties?”

  “I…don’t have either,” the dione in the shuttle said. “My name is Morriumur.”

  “A dione?” Hesho said, with obvious surprise in his voice. His ship turned, and likely he got a view of Morriumur sitting at the controls of their ship, behind the glass front. “Not just a dione, an unborn one at that. Curious.”

  The three of us settled into a slow patrol, searching for any other ships we could help and invite into our flight. Morriumur wasn’t a terrible pilot—but they obviously didn’t have much combat experience, as they panicked every time they picked up a tail.

  Still, they tried hard and managed to stick with me as I led a few Krell back toward the Big Enough, which shot them down with precision. The battle had started to spread out, individual ships seeking cover farther within the asteroid field. Krell roved in packs, but bursts of fire were growing more rare.

  I invited a few more ships to join us, but they seemed too busy—consumed by their own flying—to stop. I spotted the black ship as it zipped past at one point, well outpacing the two drones trying to chase it down. Again, Brade ignored my offers.

  “How much longer is this going to go on?” I demanded. “Don’t they have enough evidence yet?”

  “Seven minutes remaining,” M-Bot said.

  As we passed another patch of debris from a destroyed ship, I found my anger building. Yes, they’d warned that our training might be dangerous. But using live fire on civilian-class ships? I’d already had a simmering hatred for the Superiority, but this stoked it hotter. How could they have such callous disregard for life—all while feigning to be “civilized” and “intelligent”?

  Finally, the end arrived. The drones turned as one and made their way back to the mining platform. Winzik’s voice came on the general line, and his voice sounded smug as he congratulated the survivors on their performance.

  Hesho, Morriumur, and I headed back. About fifty other ships, it turned out, had survived the test. M-Bot did a quick count of the ones that had been towed back earlier, dropping out—and by combining those two numbers, then subtracting from the total, got a rough estimate of how many ships had been destroyed.

  “Twelve ships destroyed,” he said.

  Fewer than I’d expected—in the chaos, it had seemed like far more. Still, that was twelve people dead. Murdered by the Superiority.

  Did you expect anything else? a part of me asked. You knew what they were capable of—they’ve been murdering humans for eighty years.

  We landed our ships, though I did so on edge, half expecting some kind of
trap or “surprise” second test. But none came. We settled down onto the platform safely, the artificial gravity locking our ships in place. The envelope of atmosphere provided fresh air as we popped open our cockpits.

  Other surviving pilots looked rattled as they gathered back near the stage at the far end of the platform. Usually after a battle, I felt like many of these aliens looked—worn out, drained by the extreme amount of attention and focus that fighting required. Today though, I was livid as I climbed out and dropped to the floor of the platform.

  What kind of idiots set up a test like this? I remembered how shocked I’d been to be sent into combat on my first day in training with the DDF, but even then Ironsides—who had been desperate to save her dying people—had only used us as a feint. Here, the Superiority was powerful, secure, and safe. Yet they threw away the lives of eager and trusting pilots?

  I shoved my way through the crowd of aliens, moving toward Winzik and the other test administrators. I opened my mouth to—

  “What the hell is wrong with you people!” a voice shouted right behind me.

  I froze, the wind stolen from my own exclamation. I turned, surprised to see a hulking alien creature that looked vaguely like a gorilla. They held a large battle helmet under their arm, and pushed right past me in the crowd, pointing at Winzik.

  “Live fire?” the gorilla alien shouted. “In a testing exercise? What you just did is the equivalent of murder. What in the name of the deepest void were you thinking?”

  I shut my mouth at the exclamation, which seemed as furious—but twice as loud—as my own anger.

  “You signed the release,” Winzik finally said, his hand held to his armored breast in a sign of aghast horror at the creature’s outburst.

  “To the void with a release!” the alien shouted. “If I got a child to sign a release saying I could kick them, I’d still be a monster for doing it! These people didn’t know what they were getting themselves into! You bear the shame for this.”

  Creatures of various shapes and sizes moved away from the gorilla, and the officials on the stage seemed completely flabbergasted. “We…we needed to see who would be calm under fire,” Winzik finally explained. “And we gave orders to our drone pilots not to harm those who backed down. My, my! Such aggression.”

  “You should have used dummy rounds!” I said, stepping up beside the gorilla alien. “Like any sane military on exercises!”

  “How would that have tested them?” Winzik asked me. “They’d have known it wasn’t real. Fighting the delvers is extremely taxing to the psyche, Alanik of the UrDail. This was the only way to judge who would be capable and calm.”

  “The only way?” the gorilla demanded. “Let’s try another test then! We can test how well you can take a punch. I’ll start with a hammer to the skull!”

  “My, my!” another official said. “A threat?”

  “Yes,” Winzik said, waving a shooing motion. “Such aggression! Gul’zah of the burl? You are released from duty.”

  “Released from…,” Gul’zah sputtered. “You think…”

  I stepped forward to tell the Superiority officials where they could stuff their tests, but a voice spoke in my ear, interrupting me. “Spensa?” M-Bot said. “Please don’t get us kicked out. Remember our mission!”

  I seethed, watching the gorilla alien, who backed away from several armed dione guards. I almost started shouting again, but then someone else moved up beside me. Morriumur, the dione with the two-tone face.

  “Alanik?” they said to me, pleading. “Come, Alanik. Let’s go get some food. They will have it for us below. Your species does eat, yes?” They nodded at me encouragingly.

  Finally, I let Morriumur lead me away.

  Morriumur and I followed a group of excited aliens toward a wide stairwell down into the bowels of the mining station. Just before going down the steps, I spotted a tug vessel towing a black Krell ace fighter toward a nearby hangar. I cursed myself silently. I’d been intending to watch for Brade and see if I could get her to talk to me, but it appeared she’d landed quietly away from the rest of us and already vanished.

  I sighed and started down the steps, catching up with Morriumur, who walked alone at the back of the crowd. It was moving slowly down the steps, bottlenecked at the doorway at the bottom.

  “Thanks for talking me out of doing something stupid up there,” I said to Morriumur as we waited.

  “Well thank you, in turn, for saving my life!” Morriumur said. They pressed their lips together firmly, which made them look annoyed—but I was beginning to wonder if maybe I just didn’t understand dione expressions, because their next words were friendly. “You are a fantastic pilot, Alanik! Better than any I think I’ve ever seen.”

  “Have you seen many?” I asked. “I mean, aren’t you…really young?”

  “Ah, yes!” Morriumur said. “I’m two months old, but I have some of the memories and skills of my parents. One of them, my leftparent, was a commercial pilot during their youth—which is how I inherited the skill.”

  “Huh,” I said, taking a step downward. “The people I talked to were surprised you came here to test. Why would a dione come try out for this? And why wouldn’t any other of your kind think of doing it? Unless that’s too forward a question.”

  “No, no,” they said. “It’s not too forward a question at all. Peace forbid! We encourage lesser species to learn of our ways, as we hope it will usher them toward prime intelligence. The answer to your question is simple. There were no other diones in the test because my kind have carefully cultivated souls, ones purged completely of aggression or violence. To come and then train for killing, why, it would be unthinkable!”

  “But aren’t some of the drone pilots diones?” I asked.

  “Some have been, but never for long. The drone pilots are almost always tenasi,” Morriumur explained, using the name of one of the leader races of the Superiority that I hadn’t met. “They have a special ability to fight but not become emotional as they do so. The rest of us are very peaceful.”

  “And yet,” I said, “your dione leaders have no problem sending drones to murder a group of unprepared pilots?”

  “This…” Morriumur looked down at their feet as they descended another step. “This was unexpected. I’m certain the officials know what they’re doing. And they’re right—it wouldn’t do to send people into battle who will simply flee. So some kind of extreme test was required, right?”

  “Seems to me they’re a bunch of hypocr—” I started.

  “Spensa,” M-Bot said in my ear. “I am not the best at anticipating proper social reactions for organics, but could you maybe not insult the first dione friend you’ve made? We might need to learn something from them.”

  I bit off my words with difficulty. M-Bot was probably right. “Why did you come to this test, then?” I asked Morriumur instead. “Your soul isn’t…what did you say? Purged of aggression?”

  “I am…a special case,” they replied. “I was born with an aggressive personality, and so must prove myself. I came here in an attempt to do that.”

  We eventually reached the bottom of the steps and entered a large room with a low ceiling. Bright white lights illuminated cafeteria-style counters and tables; it reminded me of the mess hall back at Alta Base, though the scents…well, they were unusual. I caught some familiar ones—fried food, baking bread, something that was like cinnamon. But those scents mixed with a whole host of strange ones. Muddy water. Burning hair. Engine grease? It made for an overpowering, confusing wall of sensation that stopped me as soon as I passed through the doorway.

  “What do you eat?” Morriumur asked, pointing at some signs hanging over various serving stations. “Carbon-based vegetation, I assume? There are mineral cocktails, though I doubt you can metabolize that. And over on the far side, there’s a line for lab-grown meat.” That seemed to bother them, jud
ging by the way they drew their lips back into a frowning scowl that showed teeth.

  “Uh…” I tried to think of how Alanik would respond.

  “Your species,” M-Bot said in my ear, “has a diet roughly similar to a human one—though with more nuts and less meat. Also, no milk.”

  “Seriously?” I whispered, moving with Morriumur toward the vegetable line. I waved at my chest. “Alanik has breasts. What are they for? Decoration?”

  “No milk from other creatures, I should say,” M-Bot said. “Your species finds it extremely gross. As do I, by the way. Do you even stop to think how many strange liquids you organics squirt from your orifices?”

  “No stranger than the ideas that squirt from your orifice sometimes, M-Bot.”

  I followed Morriumur through the line and got a salad of something that seemed similar to algae strips. M-Bot assured me that it fit both my physiology and that of Alanik. As we collected our food, I couldn’t help noticing how much space the other pilots gave us.

  When I went to grab some water, I had to crowd between two large gorilla-alien burl who barely gave me a glance, so it wasn’t me that everyone was staying away from. It was Morriumur. Yeah, I thought, sipping my cup of water and hitting another pocket of open space as I walked back toward them. They’re scared of Morriumur. Members of other species kept shooting glances toward them, as if suspicious or worried about the presence of a dione in this space reserved for “lesser” species.

  I walked with my tray toward an empty table near the corner of the room. The cinnamon scent was strong here, but as I moved to sit down, Morriumur caught me by the arm.

  “Not there!” they hissed. “Are you crazy?”

  I frowned, looking at the empty table. It was like all the others. Morriumur steered me to another empty table and settled down.

  Scud. I had no idea what I was doing. What was wrong with the first table? I sat down, confused. I needed to steal a hyperdrive soon, because I was going to screw up this act sooner or later.