in orbit with no space suit, I was suddenly sure. I was trapped.
“Vapor,” I said. “I—”
“Now, Alanik.”
I followed her scent through the room, which was actually easier than it might sound. Just as I’d worried, the guards were searching each pilot before they got onto their shuttles. An obvious precaution when a drone had been found spying here.
I pulled my pack closer, sweating as I trailed behind Vapor’s sharp lemon scent. We approached a sleek-looking shuttle. The door opened.
Cuna, shrouded in dark robes, sat inside.
“Alanik,” they said. “I believe we have some matters to discuss.”
I glanced back at the rest of my flight. They were all getting in line to be searched. Morriumur had turned toward me, head cocked. Other guards were approaching me, one pointing.
I only had one option. I climbed into the shuttle with Cuna.
33
I clutched the pack to my chest as the door closed, and I was struck again by the overwhelming scent of lemons, which then shifted slowly to cinnamon. The two guards made it to the door, and one rapped on the shuttle window. Cuna pressed a button on a control panel, and the window descended.
“Minister Cuna?” one asked. “We’re supposed to search everyone.”
“I doubt those orders include heads of departments, soldier,” Cuna said, then hit the button again, closing the window. They gestured to the pilot.
The shuttle took off, then left the bay, flying toward the city proper. The moment we got outside of the Weights and Measures, a chipper voice spoke in my ear.
“Spensa?” M-Bot said. “How did it go? Did the drone work? I can sense its signal with you. You recovered it?”
I tapped out on my bracelet, Not now.
Cuna laced their fingers, then finally made a relieved gesture with two of them. “No call to return,” they said. “We’re in luck. My authority was enough to not be questioned.” Then they held out their hand, waving for me to surrender the pack.
I refused, pulling it closer.
“Vapor?” Cuna asked.
“It’s a drone,” said the familiar disembodied voice. “She was actually quite clever in how she retrieved it, as she shot off its weapon first. It will be days before anyone puts together that the remaining debris only includes pieces of a destructor pistol.”
I tried glaring at Vapor, which was hard because I didn’t exactly know where she was.
Cuna reached into their pocket and unfolded a sheet of paper. They held it out to me—and I narrowed my eyes, regarding it with suspicion. Finally, I took one careful hand off my pack and accepted the paper.
“What does it say?” M-Bot asked. “Spensa, I’m having trouble following this conversation.”
I didn’t dare respond to him as I pulled off my pin and held it to the paper, getting a translation. It was . . . a list of communications? The short messages were dated in order, starting about a week ago.
1001.17: Minister Cuna, while we respect your willingness to communicate—and acknowledge the relative strength of the Superiority—we cannot release private information about our messenger.
1001.23: After continued analysis of the brief messages sent to us via our emissary, Alanik, we of the Unity of UrDail are concerned for her safety. We have no plans to send further pilots to you.
1001.28: After continued suspicion concerning our messenger’s safety, we must cut off communication with you and the Superiority until such time as she returns to us.
A cold chill ran down my spine. Cuna was in communication with the people on Alanik’s home planet. M-Bot and I had talked to them a few times after our first message, trying to play for time. It looked like they’d decided to step away from the problem entirely by ignoring us both.
“Your people are obviously stalling for you,” Cuna said. “I can see it clearly now. The UrDail never intended to join the Superiority, did they? You are a spy, sent here exclusively to steal hyperdrive technology.”
It took a moment for that to sink in.
Cuna didn’t know I was human.
They thought I was a spy for Alanik’s people. And scud, it sure did look like that, from Cuna’s perspective.
“What I can’t figure out,” Cuna said, “is why you would risk so much, considering that you already obviously know the secret. Clearly, your people know not just how to use a cytonic like you as a hyperdrive, but have created a secondary method. The same one we use.”
What? I opened my mouth to say I had no idea what Cuna was talking about, but then—for once in my life—thought before I spoke. For