Starsight

I tried so hard to banish that feeling. Hugging a friend should have been the most relaxing thing I’d felt in weeks. Yet a part of me writhed at it. Not because of Kimmalyn, but because of me. I imagined that she was hugging some kind of strange creature, like an alien grub, instead of a person. Did she know . . . what I was?

Did I even know that?

“Oh, the Saint be praised,” Kimmalyn said, pulling back. “Spin, I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“Jorgen?” I asked.

“He’s down below, planetside, on leave. I haven’t seen him in a few days. Something about needing R&R?”

Well, it happened to the best of us. I’d just been really hoping to see him. Maybe . . . maybe he could knock me out of this strange funk I was feeling.

“What . . . ,” Kimmalyn said. “I mean, Jorgen explained he sent you on a mission. You really did it? You stole one of their hyperdrives? What about M-Bot?”

My heart felt like it would rend in two. “I—”

The klaxon alerts went off, blaring about an imminent attack. We both looked at the lights, listening as the intercom called all on-duty fighters to battle.

“I’ll explain,” I promised my friend. “I’ll try to, at least. After . . .”

“Yeah,” Kimmalyn said. She gave me another quick hug—I was still standing in my cockpit, she on the ladder. Then she rushed down it and ran for her ship. My instincts fought for me to sit back down and fly into the fight, but Cobb had been firm. I was to come and report first.

I climbed down and met Duane, of the ground crew. He gave me a grin and a thumbs-up, then slapped me on the back for my heroic return. I looked at him, befuddled, trying to read the emotions on his face—which suddenly seemed strange and bizarre. I understood his expressions as if on a time delay. Like I had to wait for an interpreter to translate them for me. Scud, what was wrong with me?

You’re just tired, I told myself. You’ve been pushing yourself hard for two weeks—all while living as someone else. Indeed, I was hit with a wave of exhaustion as I opened the door to walk into the hallway, but stopped and gave the unnamed Superiority fighter a fond look. She was no M-Bot, but she’d served me well. Would I ever fly her again? Probably not. She’d be torn apart and analyzed; access to an undamaged Krell fighter was a unique privilege for the DDF.

In the sterile, too-metallic hallway, I found a pair of men from the infantry waiting for me. They offered an escort to help me find the way to Cobb, but I couldn’t help but be reminded of the guards and guidance drones who’d accompanied me aboard the Weights and Measures. It wasn’t that the DDF didn’t trust me. It was just that the enemy was known to be able to affect the minds of people, particularly cytonics.

So . . . well, I guess they probably didn’t trust me. Not entirely. It wasn’t exactly the celebratory welcome home that I’d been anticipating.

The men led me to a command chamber with a large viewscreen on the wall and several dozen small computer stations underneath, where members of Flight Command monitored individual flights and kept tabs on the enemy. They’d been busy while I was gone; the whole operation looked more smooth—with far fewer exposed panels—than I remembered.

Several junior admirals were directing the battle from command positions. Cobb stood behind them at the back of the room, looking distinguished in his white uniform, his silvery mustache bristling from his upper lip. They’d given him an imposing admiral’s throne that overlooked everything. He used the seat to hold several stacks of paper, and the armrest for his coffee as he inspected reports and muttered to himself.

“Nightshade?” he asked as the guards marched me up. “What the hell have you done here? Wasn’t the mission Jorgen sent you on to be a stealth mission? You look like you’ve damn near brought the entire Superiority down on us.”

For some reason, hearing Cobb swear at me was the most comforting thing that could have happened to me right then. I let out a soft sigh. My entire universe was turning upside down, but Cobb was as constant as a star. An angry, surly star that drank too much coffee.

“Sorry, Cobb,” I said. “I got involved in Superiority politics and . . . well, I don’t think I’m entirely to blame for this attack, but my actions did seem to provide some excuses for them to come here.”

“You should have come back sooner.”

“I couldn’t. My powers . . . I’m learning, but . . . I mean, you try to learn how to teleport using your brain. It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

“Sounds scudding hard.”

“That’s my point.”

He grunted. “And the mission? The one you two made up, without proper authorization?”

“It worked. I pretended to be that alien who crashed here—I used M-Bot’s holograms to pull it off—and lived among the Superiority long enough to figure out the secret of their hyperdrives.” I grimaced. “I . . . might have screwed things up here and there.”