One
The day the delver came, I stood staring up at the stars.
Even after all these months, I wasn’t accustomed to living in the sky. I’d grown up underground, in a cavern so deep it could take hours to reach the surface. I’d felt safe there, buried beneath kilometers of rock, other caverns forming a buffer above the one where I lived—down where nothing could reach us.
Now everyone called me FM, but my parents named me Freyja, after the warrior goddess of my ancient heritage. I was never much of a warrior. Everyone expected I’d take the pilot’s test and hoped that I’d graduate, but after that I surprised them by continuing to fly. As a full pilot, I could have had any job I wanted in the safety of the caverns. Yet I’d chosen to move from the surface of the planet—open and foreign and exposed—up to one of the enormous platforms that orbited above it, sheltering the surface from the sky. My father had taken to saying I was skysick, but it was the opposite—the sky terrified me. It was so big and wide I could fall into it and be swallowed up.
Above me, the other platforms that dominated the skies crossed over each other again, blocking my view of the eternal blackness dotted with the strange white stars I’d only heard of before I joined the Defiant Defence Force. My alarm went off—the beeping alert from my radio that my flight was scheduled for immediate takeoff. It was normal for flights to be called up at random—I’d been responding to sirens at a moment’s notice since my first day as a cadet.
But today, half of my flight was missing. The rest of us had assumed this would afford us some unofficial R&R; while our flightleader, Jorgen, was planetside, surely we’d be called up last.
Apparently we’d guessed wrong. When I reached the landing bay, I immediately understood why. It wasn’t only our flight that had been called up. Every fighter was readied, the maintenance crew working their way through preflight checks at double speed while pilots ran for their ships and jumped into their cockpits.
I looked for the rest of my flight. Without a flightleader, we couldn’t take off until we knew who was in command. There were four other members of my flight currently in residence on Platform Prime: Kimmalyn, who was part of my original flight, and our three newer members: Sadie, T-Stall, and Catnip. Nedd and Arturo were planetside with Jorgen, so Kimmalyn and I were the most likely to be given command, but I didn’t want it, and I knew Kimmalyn didn’t either.
I didn’t see any of my flightmates at the moment, but my friend Lizard from Nightmare Flight waved at me from the open hatch of her cockpit. Lizard had bright blue eyes and waist-length black hair. I didn’t know how she kept it so long—mine started to bother me if I let it grow to shoulder length. Lizard’s real name was Leiko, but like me she went by her callsign almost all of the time.
“FM!” Lizard called. “They’re combining your flight with ours. Nose said to wave you all down as you came in and tell you to set your radios to our channel.”
Thank the stars. I would have followed any flightleader, of course, but I’d flown under Nose before, and a lot of the members of Nightmare Flight were my friends. Lizard was close to my age—she’d been in cadet training right before me. The sophomore class tended to be hard on the newest pilots, but Skyward Flight was something of a legend thanks to our flightmate, Spin, which earned us respect most newly minted pilots could only dream of.
“Any idea what’s happening?” I asked Lizard.
“No clue,” she said. “But Nose is already in the air. We’d better get up there.”
“Thanks, Lizard,” I said. I ran for my fighter and found Kimmalyn already in her cockpit across the way. As soon as I climbed into mine, I saw the light blinking and switched my radio to her private channel.
“FM,” Kimmalyn said as I readied my fighter. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“No idea,” I said. “An attack of some kind?” We often dealt with small groups of Krell fighters, though only a really massive attack would justify calling us all up at once.
“I don’t know either,” Kimmalyn said. “But I just saw Spin. She’s back.”
I blinked, my hands pausing on the controls. Spensa had managed to use her strange psychic powers to leave our doomed little planet and run some crazy spy mission, trying to steal hyperdrive technology from the enemy. Until we had that technology we were marooned here, fish in a growth vat waiting to be speared. Spin had been gone for weeks, and I knew Jorgen and Admiral Cobb were worried she’d never return.
“Did she bring us a hyperdrive?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Kimmalyn said. “But I doubt it’s a coincidence we’re being called up now. I’m guessing she brought trouble with her. Like the Saint always says, ‘Trouble follows its own.’ ”
Kimmalyn was probably right. As glad as I was to hear Spensa was back, I didn’t think it was a good sign for any of us. If disaster struck, generally Spin was right there in the middle of it. Not that she caused it necessarily, but it did seem to follow her around.
I engaged my acclivity ring, then boosted out of the landing bay to join the mass of other ships in the air. The platform itself was high above the planet, part of the massive layers of platforms and debris that shut out almost all view of the sky from the surface below.
Scud, there were a lot of ships up here. Whatever trouble had followed Spin home, Admiral Cobb was sparing no one to stop it. If this was the day the Superiority had chosen to destroy us, we were going to have to show them exactly how dangerous we were.
I tuned in to Nightmare Flight’s channel, and Kimmalyn and I flew to the coordinates Nose gave us, a pocket between some of the nearby platforms. Most of the rest of Skyward Flight was already there, including T-Stall and Catnip—cool guys who were a blast to hang out with, but a little lacking in the common sense department—and Sadie, who had been flying as my wingmate in the weeks since Spin had left.
“Welcome to Nightmare Flight,” Nose said to the five of us. “Quirk, you’ll be Sushi’s wingmate today.”
“Understood,” Kimmalyn said.
“We’re all here,” Nose said. “We’re going to follow our nav path out of the platforms and cut across to the right flank of the battlefield. Sound off.”
One by one the members of Nightmare Flight called in, giving their ship numbers and callsigns. We’d switched numbers in Skyward Flight several times. I was Skyward Five currently, and the members of my flight kept our Skyward numbers, sounding off in order after Nightmare Flight finished.
We flew at Mag-3 in a line astern formation, weaving between the layers of platforms, and then Nose gave us a heading on the far side of the battlefield. We loosened our formation, flying in a wide V away from Detritus’s autonomous gun platforms and then cutting across the curvature of the planet to approach the incoming ships.
As we did, I could see the two battleships that had been watching us for the past several weeks out in the blackness of space—monstrous, looming shapes totally unlike our sleek fighters, clearly not made to deal with atmosphere and air resistance. We didn’t have anything like that on Detritus. Our biggest transport ships didn’t carry more than a few dozen passengers.
Beyond them I could now see another long, boxy ship—newly arrived. It was hard to make out against the black, but there were smaller ships out there as well, congregated in a cluster. Probably approaching us at high speeds, though it was difficult to tell at this distance, even on my monitors.
“Our orders are to come up the right flank and engage the enemy,” Nose said. “They’re fielding a lot of drones, but also fifty piloted spacecraft.”
Fifty? We were used to fighting large contingents of drones with a few enemy aces, but not fifty piloted ships.
“Flight Command says they have intel that the piloted craft aren’t enemy aces.” Nose said. “But we also don’t know what they are, so we’re to engage, drawing as many as possible away from Platform Prime.”
Some of the other flights congregated just outside the reach of the gun platforms, waiting for orders. This first approach would be an experiment then. If Command didn’t know what these craft were, they’d need to study their behavior before they could commit their entire force. It made sense from a strategic point of view.
But it was a lot less comforting being the subject of the experiment. The cavern where I’d grown up was home to a research facility that tested everything from new toothpaste recipes to the effects of toxic chemicals. Some of my Disputer friends talked about raiding the place someday and releasing all the lab rats, whose lives were sad and often short. I saw one once that had escaped. It had chewed off most of the fur from its hind legs, which were covered in boils from some chemical reaction. Not, I hoped, from the toothpaste.
Sometimes I identified with those rats.
As we made our sweep above the platforms, my wingmate, Sadie, called on a private channel. “What does Nose mean, they don’t know what these things are?” she asked. “How do they know they’re not aces then?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But I think we’re going to be among the first to find out.”
Sadie’s channel went quiet, and then a moment later the comm light for her channel brightened again. “I wish the others were here.”
“By the others, you mean Spin,” I said. I tried not to tease her about her obvious adoration of Spensa. The others, especially Nedd, tried less.
“I mean, she’s an incredible fighter! Don’t you think our chances would be better if she were here?”
“Quirk said she saw Spin right before we were called up. So she probably is here.”
But not flying with us. What did that mean?
“Really?” Sadie said. “That has to increase our chances, right?”
Sadie had done some fighting with us, but we’d seen fewer and fewer Krell attacks lately, especially since the battleships arrived. “Probably,” I said. “But our chances increase a lot more if we don’t think about them and instead focus on what’s in front of us.”
“Right,” Sadie said. “Focus. That’s what Spin would do.”
“Also shout graphic and violent things at the enemies. So I suppose you could try that.”
“That’s right! Down with you, vile…space-dwelling…ships of…vileness! May you all die painful, fiery deaths! How was that?”
“That was definitely something,” I said. “Did it make you feel better?”
“A little. I think I need to practice. May you all explode in big fiery explosions, approaching not-ace ships of whateverness!”
“Uh, Sentry? Maybe practice on your own and just share the highlights,
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