Starsight

We’ll have to see. We’re swapping out the hyperdrive unit now. A fresh one might work, as long as we engage it immediately.

I waited, tense. A few minutes passed.

Then it happened again. Another dump of information into my mind—this one pointed toward Starsight. Then a scream.

I felt that same disorienting sense of being thrown into a vast blackness. Again, the delvers didn’t see me. They were focused on the scream.

I slammed back into my seat, my mind throbbing. Again I sagged in my straps, though none of the others even broke conversation. They didn’t realize it had happened.

That sensation I’d felt, that dump of information . . . it told me where the hyperjump was going to go. I could have used that information to jump myself to Starsight. That information was fading, but slowly. I might . . . I might be able to jump myself from here to the delver maze and back again, if I needed to.

The random numbers that M-Bot had told me didn’t work, but something about this information injected directly into my mind . . . that did. It proved what I had suspected—that I needed to be able to do more than just know my destination; I had to be able to feel it. It was a clue, my first solid one, on how I might be able to control my powers.

Worn out, I rose with the others and trudged to the pickup bay, which looked out toward Starsight: a vibrant, glowing blue platform with buildings sprouting from it like stalactites and stalagmites.

I bade farewell to the others, then climbed into my assigned shuttle. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allotted my own this time, as an official sent a trio of reptilian aliens in after me. Apparently their housing was near mine. They gathered in the back seats, chatting softly in their own language, my pin translating helpfully. Since they were just talking about dinner plans, I flipped off the translator.

The shuttle took off, and the moment we left the docking bay a voice erupted through my earpiece. “Spensa?” M-Bot asked. “Spensa, I’m picking up your signal again. Are you well? Is everything all right? It’s been eight hours without communication!”

Hearing that voice was shockingly welcome, and I found myself sighing in relief. My task was feeling increasingly more intimidating by the moment, but this one point of familiarity reminded me I wasn’t completely alone.

“I’m back,” I whispered to him, then eyed the aliens behind me. “I’ll explain more when I get to the embassy.”

“Scud, that’s good to hear!” M-Bot said. “Did you hear that? I just swore. If I started swearing, do you think it would prove that I’m alive? Lifeless computers don’t swear. That would be weird.”

“I don’t think you can argue that you’re not weird.”

“Of course I can. I can argue basically anything, if I’m programmed for it. Anyway, they must have some kind of communications shield over the Weights and Measures! When I lost your signal, I feared I’d been left alone with the slug forever.”

I smiled, and was actually starting to feel excited as we approached my building. I had so much to explain to M-Bot. The delver maze. Vapor. I’d made some inroads with Brade, hadn’t I? Unfortunately, as the shuttle approached, I found that Mrs. Chamwit—the Krell housekeeper that Cuna had assigned me—was waiting at the front door.

“What’s she doing here still?” I whispered, eyeing the armored alien woman as my shuttle settled down.

“Once she finished cleaning, she spent the time waiting for you to return,” M-Bot answered.

She was really committed to her spying, wasn’t she? As I climbed out of the shuttle, she bustled over, speaking with an energetic voice. “Welcome back, mistress! I’ve looked into your species’s nutritional requirements, and I think I have just the recipe for dinner tonight. Akokian pudding! It’s a wonderful mixture of sweet and savory!”

“Um,” I said. “No thanks? I’ve got some food already. I ordered it a couple days ago.”

“Mistress? The algae strips in your refrigeration unit?”

“Sure,” I said. “They’re fine.” Bland, but fine.

“Well . . . maybe I could work those into a side dish?” Mrs. Chamwit said. “Or maybe just make you a dessert?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Really. Thanks. I have some work to do tonight, and don’t want to be interrupted.”

She gestured in a crestfallen way, though I didn’t buy the act. If the Krell woman was sad, it was only because I wasn’t giving her the chance to spy. Eventually—after three more reassurances that I was fine—she tromped off down the street to leave for the day.

I sighed, wiping my brow, then hiked up the steps to the top of the building and climbed into M-Bot’s cockpit. “Dim the canopy,” I said. “And make sure the alien spy has really left.”

The canopy dimmed. “I’m not convinced she’s a spy, Spensa,” M-Bot said. “She didn’t look through your things. She just straightened up your room, then spent the time doing word puzzles on her tablet.”