Had I ever seen any other diones try to smile?
It wasn’t a dione expression. They pulled their lips tight into a line to express joy, and they bared their teeth to express dislike. They gestured with their hands sometimes, like the Krell. I couldn’t think of any of the others, Morriumur included, ever smiling.
“You smile,” I said.
“Isn’t this facial expression a sign of friendship among your people?” Cuna asked. “I’ve noticed you have similar expressions to humans. I’ve practiced for the day when I get to speak with them and offer a hand of peace. I thought the same expressions might work on you.”
They smiled again, and this time I saw something new in it. Not a creepiness, but an unfamiliarity. What I had interpreted as a sign of smugness had been an attempt to put me at ease. A failed attempt, but the only sign I could remember—in my entire time here—of a dione trying to use one of our expressions.
Saints and stars…I’d built my entire gut response to this person on the fact that they couldn’t smile right.
“Winzik and I conceived the Delver Resistance Project together, but with very different motives,” Cuna said. “He saw a way to get access to a true, actively piloted starfighter corps again. I saw something different. I saw a force of lesser species serving the Superiority—protecting it.
“Perhaps it is foolish imagining, but I saw in my mind’s eye the day when a delver might come—and a person like you, or the kitsen, or some other species saved us. I saw a change in my people, a moment when they began to realize that some aggression is useful. That the different ways species act is a strength of our union, not a flaw in it. And so, I encouraged you to join us.”
They waved at the room that had held the black portal. “The Superiority is deceptively weak. We exile that which doesn’t match our ideal of nonaggression. We encourage species to be more and more like us before they can join, and there are good ideals among our people. Peace, prosperity for all. But at the cost of individuality? That we must find a way to change.”
They rested their fingers on the window again. “We have grown complacent, timid. I fear that a little aggression, a little strife, might be exactly what we need. Or else…or else we will fall to the first wolf that sneaks past the gates.”
I believed them. Scud, I believed Cuna was sincere. But could I trust my own assessment? The fact that I’d so grossly misread their expressions reinforced this idea. I was among aliens. They were people, with real love and emotions, but they also—by definition—wouldn’t do things the same way humans did.
Who could I trust? Cuna, Vapor, Morriumur, Hesho? Did I know enough to trust any of them? It felt like a person could spend a lifetime studying other species and still get this sort of thing wrong. Indeed, Cuna’s attempts at smiling were proof of that exact idea.
And still, I found myself reaching over and pushing back my sleeve. I undid the little latch on my bracelet that kept me from pushing the button accidentally.
Then—taking a deep breath—I deactivated my hologram.
Cuna’s eyes bulged practically out of their head as they stared at me. Then they bared their teeth, shying back. “What?” they demanded. “What is this?”
“I was never Alanik,” I said. “I took her place after she crashed on my planet.” Then I stuck out my hand. “My name is Spensa. You said you were waiting to hold out your hand to a human, in peace. Well…here I am.”
It might have been the craziest thing I’d ever done. Honestly, I’m not sure I could explain why I did it. I’d just realized that I couldn’t necessarily trust my gut when it came to aliens—their habits, expressions, and mannerisms wouldn’t match my expectations.
This was different though. This wasn’t me reacting by instinct to something an alien did. This was a choice. If there was even a chance that Cuna was sincere, it could mean an end to the war. It could mean safety for my people.
I wasn’t certain if this was what the heroes from Gran-Gran’s stories would have done. But it was what I did. In that moment. Taking that risk.
Accepting that hope.
Cuna—though they leaned back at the same time—took my hand in theirs. I guessed that part of them reviled the idea of touching me. Still, they did force themself to do it. Cuna might use terms like lesser species, but I believed that they were sincerely trying.
They looked at me closer, still holding on to my hand. “How? I don’t understand.”
“Holograms,” I said. “A portable one in my bracelet.”
“We don’t have technology to create a projector so small!” Cuna said. “But it was rumored that…that the humans did, during the first war. During their alliance with the figments. Amazing. The communications from Alanik’s home planet…Do they know about you?”
“I told them, but I don’t know that they believe me. I’ve mostly been stalling them.”
“Amazing,” Cuna repeated. “You mustn’t show anyone else! It could be a disaster.” They pulled their hand back and—it seemed unconsciously—wiped it on their robes. I tried not to be offended.
“You are from the shell planet?” Cuna asked. “With the defensive platforms?”
“Detritus,” I said. “Yeah.”
“I fought for you until I was hoarse,” Cuna said. “In the closed senate meetings, when there were arguments for extermination. I didn’t believe…You’re standing here, talking to me? Amazing! You’ve been on Starsight for weeks! Have you…um, have you…killed anyone? By accident, I mean?”
“No,” I said. “We’re really not like that. Mostly, I’ve spent my time here trying to figure out which of the seventeen restrooms I’m supposed to use. Do you know how confusing that can be without some instructions?”
Cuna drew their lips to a line. I smiled back.
They walked around me. “Truly spectacular. We have watched you all these years, but know so little. The interference those platforms cause, you see. Still…we blasted you into what was practically a stone age, and less than a century later you already have hyperdrives again. I’m not sure whether to be impressed or intimidated.”
“Right now, let’s call it a draw,” I said. I touched my bracelet, turning my hologram back on so I looked like Alanik again. “Cuna, Winzik is crazier than you think. Brade told me some of his plans—they’re trying to recruit Alanik to join some kind of secret cytonic group they have. They think they can control the delvers.”
“Surely you exaggerate,” Cuna said. “The program we’ve developed uses a weapon to distract delvers. Our analysis proves that if they go too long in our realm without consuming a planet, they eventually fade. What we will try to do is not so much control them as keep them distracted from population centers long enough that they leave us.”
“Yeah, well, there’s more,” I said. “You’re not the only one worried about the Superiority losing control once everyone knows about hyperdrive slugs. Winzik plans to use the threat of a delver attack to keep everyone in line.”
Cuna bared their teeth. “If this is true,” they said, “then I have a great deal more work to do. But you needn’t worry. Our program is just in the beginning stages. I will search for the truth, and move to counter Winzik’s political aspirations. He is not so powerful yet that he cannot be stopped.”
“All right. I’ll see what I can do to get the ‘human scourge’ to back down.”
“I can’t let you take that drone.”
“At least let me take the sensor unit I installed,” I said. “My ship needs that.” I looked to Cuna. “Please, let me go, Cuna. I’ll fly back to Detritus and persuade my people that someone among the Krell is willing to talk about peace. I think they’ll listen. What would happen to Winzik’s power if suddenly his department wasn’t needed? What if the human scourge became an ally to the Superiority, instead of an enemy?”
“There is a long way to go for that to happ
en,” Cuna said. “But…yes, I can imagine it. A deal then, between you and me.” Cuna hesitated, then put their hand out toward me again. “Or, a deal to perhaps make a deal.”
I took it. Then I pulled my lips to a line. Cuna, in turn, smiled. Well, it was kind of a smile. A worthy effort, anyway.
I retrieved the sensor and hologram unit I’d attached to the drone and put them in my flight suit pockets, but left the drone itself in the backpack. Cuna led me to the door, and I tried not to think about the poor alien who had been exiled. I couldn’t let myself feel responsible for what had happened to them. I just had to do what I could.
What would happen if we really did make peace? Would that mean no more need for starfighters? I found that difficult to believe—the delvers were still out there, right? There would be battles. There were always battles.
It still felt a little odd to have me, of all people, be the one who took the first steps toward peace.
“I can take you by shuttle to your embassy,” Cuna said, walking me through the security door to the open air. “Then I can fill out the proper paperwork, indicating that ‘Alanik’ is returning to her people. I don’t know how we’ll make this work after that, but…”
Cuna trailed off as a military shuttle—it looked like the same one we’d flown there in—zipped down out of the air and landed with a hasty thump right in the middle of the grass, ignoring the farther launchpad. The door slammed open, but no one was inside.
I immediately smelled cinnamon.
“Hurry!” Vapor’s voice said. “Alanik, we’ve been mobilized.”
“What?” I demanded. “Mobilized how?”
“Our flight is being sent into battle. I think a delver has been spotted.”
Our shuttle raced through the sky above Starsight, flying at an emergency altitude beneath the rest of the traffic.
“Vapor,” I said, “I don’t know if this is relevant to me any longer.”
“The possible appearance of a galaxy-wide threat isn’t relevant?” she asked.
“Do we know that is what happened?” I asked.
“Here, watch,” Vapor said, smelling floral at the moment.
She activated the monitor on the back of the seat in front of us. It played the emergency message—one sent by Winzik himself. “Pilots,” he said, using the most firm of hand gestures—both hands made as fists. “An enemy threatens Starsight. This is not a drill. I realize your training has been brief, but the need is dire. Report to the Weights and Measures for immediate deployment.”
“He doesn’t say it’s a delver,” I said. “It smells of politics.”
“Actually, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Vapor said.
“Listen,” I said. “Vapor, I showed myself to Cuna. My real self. The two of us decided to find a way to make peace between our peoples. I think that might be more important than whatever is happening here with Winzik.”
Vapor’s scent changed to something more akin to onions. “We’re already at peace with your people. Why would you and Cuna have to agree to that?”
“My real people. You said you know what I am. A…a human.”
“Yes,” Vapor said. “I put it together. Your planet, ReDawn. You’ve been hiding a human enclave there, haven’t you? They never really evacuated, but remained hidden among you. That’s why you never joined the Superiority. You’ve been worried we’d find out about the humans.”
Ooooohhhh, I thought. That was actually a reasonable guess. Utterly wrong, but more reasonable than the truth was, in many ways.
“I wondered why you used so many human expressions and mannerisms,” Vapor continued. “More than I thought was natural for your people’s supposed past. And your scent…you’re part human, aren’t you, Alanik? A species mix? That explains your cytonics. Humans always were very talented in that regard.”
“The reality is…a little less complicated than you think,” I said to Vapor. “Ask Cuna. But Vapor, I need to get back to my ship.”
“Alanik,” Vapor said, her scent going to something more like rain. “I need you right now. I’ve been assigned to watch Winzik, and I don’t think even Cuna is aware of how ambitious he is. You’re the best pilot I have, and I need you to be ready to join me. In case.”
“…In case what?”
“In case this isn’t about a delver. Let’s just say there are elements in the government who are very worried about Winzik’s growing power—and his access to pilots who don’t share core Superiority values.”
Again, I was caught in the middle of something I barely understood. She’s worried about a coup, isn’t she? That’s why she was assigned to become a pilot—to make sure Winzik isn’t trying to seize control of the Superiority.
Where did that leave me? I had the secret. I needed to get home with it. Nothing else mattered, did it?
I used my bracelet to open a communication to M-Bot, who should be able to hear me now that I was out of the governmental building. My reply was a quiet sound transferred via my earpiece.
Click. Clickclickclickclick…
Our shuttle tore along the docks, joining others that were swarming the Weights and Measures. We disembarked to an organized chaos as excited pilots climbed from shuttles and were ushered through the hallways.
I found Hesho and the kitsen hovering over the heads of the other pilots, looking agitated. “Hey!” I called to them as I passed.
Hesho zoomed in near my head. “Alanik,” he said. “What is this?”
“You know as much as I do,” I said, then bit off what I was going to say next. That was a lie. I knew way more than Hesho did. I always had.
Well, for the moment I agreed with Vapor. I needed to at least find out what Winzik was planning, as it might be relevant to the future of my people. We fell in with the other pilots. The other flights had lost a few people in training, so we were maybe forty-five instead of our initial fifty-two.
In their excitement, it seemed like far more. The guide drones led us out of the shuttle hangar. We weren’t taken to our normal jump rooms, but directly to the hangar with our fighters—which were quickly being prepped by ground crews.
Vapor swore softly. With our starfighters being prepped like this, it seemed increasingly likely that Winzik was going to use them against Starsight itself. Had I really gotten caught in the middle of a coup?
Winzik himself stepped onto a mobile ladder for climbing atop starfighters, and held up his arms to hush the group of chattering pilots.
“You are no doubt frightened,” Winzik called, his voice amplified over the ship’s speaker system. “And confused. You heard of the attack on the Weights and Measures earlier today. Well, we’ve analyzed the debris from that attack. And we found a destroyed weapon that was human in origin.”
The chamber grew profoundly silent.
Oh no, I thought.
“We have evidence,” Winzik said, “that the human threat is much greater than the high minister wishes to admit. Likely there are dozens of spy drones infiltrating Starsight. This is proof that the human scourge has begun to escape from one of its prisons. It is a festering hive of humanity that we were never given the proper authority or resources to suppress.
“Today, we will fix that. In ten minutes, this ship will hyperjump to the human planet Detritus. I want you all to be ready in your cockpits, prepared to launch the moment we arrive. Your job will be to destroy their forces. This should prove to be an excellent display of why the Superiority needs a more active and well-trained defense force.”
It was strange to see him speaking so forcefully, with curt gestures, not even a single “my, my” or stutter. As he sent the pilots to suit up, I began to understand the depth of his plotting. He had probably been building to this all along. A display of strength, using his personal space force to annihilate the “human scourge” and cement his importance.
This was what I’d feared from the beginning. I’d been training a force that would be used against my own people. I needed to find a way to stop this—to make good on the peace that Cuna and I thought we could bring.
“Excellent,” Hesho said from beside me. “Finally, they decide to do something about those humans. This is a momentous day, Captain Alanik. Today we get vengeance against those who wronged us!”
“I…” What should I do? I couldn’t tell him. Could I?
I lost my chance as the kitsen swooped off toward their ship. I spun around, looking for the rest of my flight. Where was Brade? I needed to talk to her.
I found Morriumur standing beside their ship, holding their helmet. Teeth bared slightly.
“Have you seen Brade?” I asked.
Morriumur shook their head.
Scud. Where was she?
“Alanik?” Morriumur asked. “Are you excited? I’m worried. Everyone looks so eager to get to their ships, but…this wasn’t why we trained, was it? We were supposed to stop the delvers, not go into ship-to-ship combat against experienced pilots. I need more time. I’m not ready for dogfighting…”
I finally spotted Brade crossing the hangar, helmet already on, the black sunshield down. I ran over and intercepted her as she reached her ship and started to climb up the ladder. She tried to ignore me, but I grabbed her arm.
“Brade,” I said. “They’re going to be sending us against your own people.”
“So?” she hissed, the sunshield preventing me from seeing her eyes.
“Don’t you care?” I demanded. “This is the last chance humans have at freedom. How can you help destroy it?”
“They…they’re wild humans. Dangerous.”
“Humans aren’t what the Superiority says,” I said. “I can tell that’s true after just a short time knowing you. If you join in this, you’re perpetuating a lie.”
“It…it will make life better for the rest of us,” she said. “If people aren’t worried about a human empire suddenly jumping out of the shadows and attacking again, then maybe the rest of us can build something worthwhile in the Superiority.”
Starsight (US) Page 34
