Page 41 of Defiant

Yet I’d come to love such sights as this. Ground overgrown with weeds and brown sagebrush. Aprairie.Scud, it was beautiful.

We swung in low to keep below any radar—though the Superiority had far more modern scanners and would spot us if we got too close, low or not. I’d purposely hyperjumped us a ways out for that very reason. This wasn’t an assault. It was something far more sneaky. Not for the first time, I wished I had M-Bot’s old ship back. This Poco, though excellent—and featuring some newer additions developed using M-Bot’s technology—just couldn’t compete.

Aw,he sent to me.You’re so sweet.

We skimmed the ground, just above the rippling grasses. Yes, it was kind of a snarl—like my hair on mornings after sleeping in M-Bot’s cockpit. And it was mostly brown, as if it didn’t get enough rain here. But none of that mattered. It wasreal,and that made it wonderful.

I realized, as we flew, that I’d begun to see the landscapes I’d passed in the nowhere as…a little too perfect. Like dioramas. Idealized encapsulations of biomes from the somewhere, sliced off and left floating in an invisible ocean.

Yet here was something incontrovertibly real. And we flew toward the sunrise. A realsunrise.

“Hesho,” I whispered, “am I really seeing this?”

“There are some philosophers who postulate that all experience is illusory,” he replied from his seat. “That we cannot trust what we see, as perception is fedtous via external sources, and cannot be intuited.” He looked to me, then smiled. “I find such philosophies to be non-credible. Itisreal, Spin. What you experienceis yours to cherish. Each sight a gemstone for your personal collection, light crystallized in your mind, made solid and captured to forever cherish.”

Scud. I highly recommend that if you’re going to get a copilot, you pick up a warrior poet. Hesho could make words go on overburn the same way I could push a button and make the ship fly faster.

“All right, Spin,” Arturo said over the general comm. “We’re at one of the supply depots. What is the mission?”

“I thought the goal was to hit them all at once,” Alanik added. “As to not tip off the Superiority to what we’re doing.”

“That’s why we’re doing this stealthily,” I said. “The goal is to minimize casualties onbothsides. So we’re going to fly in quietly, free their inhibitor slug in secret, and take command of the installation.”

“But as soon as this depot goes silent, they’llknowsomething is happening,” Alanik pointed out. “Even if others can’t hyperjump in to rescue this installation, someone will figure out what has happened and reinforce the four other depots. We’ll still jeopardize the other assaults.”

“I’ve got that part in hand,” I promised.

“But—” she began.

“She’s got it in hand, Alanik,” Arturo said. “Spin, what do you need?”

“If I’m right,” I told them, “then this base will use cytonic authorizations, like the one we hit yesterday.”

Cuna had explained this. Most planets and cities were severely limited in how much hypercommunication they could do. It all had to be routed through a central hub, and could be read and analyzed by the government if they wanted.

Military bases, particularly important ones, had their own hyperslugs to instantly identify incoming ships, and to instantly send for reinforcements if needed. After our successful raid the day before, Cuna’s authorization code would never work again.

So I was going to try something else. A moment later, Heshohighlighted an incoming call—cytonic. I captured it, and tried to send back a spoofed signal, indicating we were reinforcements, just in case enemy ships struck here.

Scud, I hoped this worked.

I got back an exceedingly strange response.

Hope.

A sudden elated feeling. An impression of pain, and fear, and hope shining through. I worked to interpret it, and heard a soft, fluting coo from my left. Doomslug, in her sling. Piggybacking on my cytonic impression.

Only then did I put it together. This signal—like all faster-than-light signals in the Superiority—was being facilitated by a commslug. She would be out in this city somewhere, trapped in a tiny box. Forced into submission by punishment of pain, the enclosure preventing her from escaping.

The slugs were incredibly hardy, which worked against them. They could be locked in a box, given food and water on occasion, and would survive. In pain and sorrow.

Doomslug sent a sense of support to the other slug’s mind. I caught some of it: images of caviar and safe caverns. Mushrooms plenty, other slugs for company—but most of all impressions. Safety, warmth, no fear, peace.

We’ll rescue you,I sent to that nameless creature.We’re coming.But this has to be a secret from our enemies. Send them the following lies.

I had her say we were a support squadron of elite soldiers, sent by Winzik to protect this location. I didn’t have the authentication codes, but the slug did, and provided them on my behalf. Scud. The Superiority’s fragility wasn’t just in its restricted control and secrecy around the slugs. They were entirely dependent upon a group of terrified slaves.

We’ll come for you,I promised.Thank you.

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