Defiant (Skyward, #4)

by Brandon Sanderson

Why hadn’t anyone told me how many meetings galactic war would involve? Maybe I would have surrendered. Torture couldn’t possibly be worse than this.

“Rig,” I declared to him, “I need science.” “You need therapy.” “You need better jokes.” “You need a better sense of humor.” We grinned at each other. Then remembered we were in front of a bunch of boring military types.

I was barely listening. Fifteen-centimeter-tall. Furry. Ninjas.

“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 fed to us via external sources, and cannot be intuited.” He looked to me, then smiled. “I find such philosophies to be non-credible. It is real, Spin. What you experience is yours to cherish. Each sight a gemstone for your personal collection, light crystallized in your mind, made solid and captured to forever cherish.”

As it was, the remainder looked like it would walk the perfect line: challenging, but doable by one pilot, her pet teleportation slug, and her fox-gerbil bodyguard. It was too bad we were basically doomed, because—looked at without context—my life was kind of awesome.

I had to admit, it kind of sucked for the galaxy that its fate kept depending on whether or not I could be diplomatic.

“Hi!” he said through a speaker on the front. “I’ve been resurrected! Do I start a religion now, or do I wait for you to do it for me? That part has always confused me.”