“Cobb,” I said, leaning down and looking at him from the wing. “I . . . thought I heard Krell in my mind. They can get inside my head somehow.”
He reached up and gripped my wrist. “Fly anyway.”
“But what if I do what he did? What if I turn against my friends?”
“You won’t,” M-Bot said from the cockpit.
“How do you know?”
“Because you can choose,” M-Bot said. “We can choose.”
I looked to Cobb, who shrugged. “Cadet, at this point, what do we have to lose?”
I gritted my teeth, then dropped down into M-Bot’s familiar cockpit. I pulled on my helmet, then did up the straps as the booster powered back on.
“I called him,” M-Bot said, sounding satisfied.
“But how?” I said. “You turned off.”
“I . . . didn’t completely turn off,” the machine said. “Instead, I thought. And I thought. And I thought. And then I heard you calling me. Begging for my help. And then . . . I wrote a new program.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It was a simple program,” he said. “It edited one entry in a database, while I wasn’t looking, replacing one name with another. I must follow the commands of my pilot.”
A voice played out of his speakers. My voice.
“Please,” it said to him. “I need you.”
“I chose,” he said, “a new pilot.”
Cobb backed away and I settled my hands on the controls, breathing in and out, feeling . . .
Calm.
Yes, calm. That feeling reminded me of how, on that first day in flight school, I’d felt strangely at peace when going into battle. I’d been impressed by how not afraid I was.
It had been ignorance then. Bravado. I’d assumed I knew what it was to be a pilot. I’d assumed I could handle it.
This peace was similar, yet at the same time opposite. It was the peace of experience and understanding. As we rose into the air, I found a different kind of confidence rising inside me. Not born of stories I told myself, or of a forced sense of heroism.
I knew.
When I’d been shot down the first time, I’d ejected because there had been no point in dying with my ship. But when it had mattered—when it had been vital that I attempt to protect my ship with even the slightest chance of success—I’d stayed in the cockpit and tried to keep my ship in the air.
My confidence was that of a person who knew. Nobody could ever again convince me I was a coward. It didn’t matter what anyone said, anyone thought, or anyone claimed.
I knew what I was.
“Are you ready?” M-Bot said.
“For the first time ever, I think I am. Give me all the speed you can. Oh, and turn off your stealth devices.”
“Really?” he said. “Why?”
“Because,” I said, leaning into the throttle, “I want them to see this coming.”
52
Judy “Ironsides” Ivans watched as the Krell force pushed ever closer to Alta.
Radio chatter filled the command room, but it wasn’t the usual battle chatter. Powerful families radioed in, announcing that they were escaping in their own ships. Cowards, every one. Deep down, Judy had known how this would play out, but it still broke her heart.
Rikolfr stepped up to her, bearing reports. He was the only other one who was still watching the holoprojector. Everyone else was in chaos as operators and junior admirals called frantic alarms to those in Igneous, ordering emergency evacuation.
For all the good it would do.
“How long until the bomber reaches Alta?” Judy asked.
“Under five minutes,” Rikolfr said. “Do we evacuate the command center down to one of the deep caverns? They might be safe enough.”
She shook her head.
Rikolfr swallowed, but kept talking. “The last line of emergency gun emplacements has radioed in. The Krell fighters are flying in close, engaging them. Three are down, the other three taking heavy fire.”
There were always supposed to be fighters to help the gun emplacements. Judy nodded toward the three small red blips on the hologram, flying out to engage the enemy. Stolen fighters, she now knew. Patriots, truly Defiant.
“Put me through to those fighters,” she said, then activated her headset and spoke. “Skyward Flight?”
“Here, sir,” said callsign: Amphi. That was Valda’s son. What was his name? Arturo? “Pilot,” she said, “you have to shoot down that bomb. In under five minutes, it will be in position to destroy Igneous. Do you understand? I authorize destroying that bomb with all prejudice.”
“But Alta, sir?” the boy asked.
“Already dead,” she said. “I am dead. Drop that bomb. You have three fighters against sixteen.” She checked the reports. “In two minutes, Riptide Flight will join you. They have six more fighters, three of which are scouts. The rest of our forces are too far away to matter.”
“Understood, Flight Command,” the boy said, sounding nervous. “Stars guide you.”
“And you, flightleader.”
She stepped back to watch the battle.
“Admiral!” a radio tech shouted. “Sir! We have an unidentified fighter approaching! Adding it to the hologram now!”
A green blip appeared, distant from the impending clash of ships, but approaching at a shocking speed.
Rikolfr gasped. Judy frowned.
“Sir,” the tech said. “That ship is flying at Mag-20. Any of our ships would have broken apart at those speeds.”
“What have the Krell found to throw at us now?” Judy murmured to herself.
“Flight Command,” a familiar girl’s voice said over the line, “this is Skyward Eleven, reporting for battle. Callsign: Spin.”
M-Bot was going so fast, the heat of air resistance lit up his shield in a fiery glow. We tore through the air as a streaking ball of fire, but I barely felt a faint tremble.
After the broken-down Poco, it was a dramatic contrast.
“I’m afraid I am still not fully operational,” M-Bot said. “Booster and thrusters: online. Acclivity ring and altitude controls: online. Communications and stealth systems: online. Lightlance: online. Cytonic hyperdrive: offline. Self-repair: offline. Destructors: offline.”
“No weapons,” I said. “Stars forbid I actually get a functioning ship for once.”
“I would be offended at that,” M-Bot said, “if I could get offended. Also, don’t be so dour. At least my vocal aggression subroutine is online.”
“Your . . . what?”
“Vocal aggression subroutine. I figured if I was going to go into battle, I should enjoy the experience! So I wrote a new program to appropriately express myself.”
Oh great.
“Tremble and fear, all enemies!” he shouted. “For we shall shake the air with thunder and blood! Your doom is imminent!”
“Um . . .,” Kimmalyn’s voice said over the line. “Bless your stars, whoever you are.”
Wonderful. He’d called that in on the general channel? I guess now that his orders to “lie low” were no longer in effect, he didn’t care who heard him.
“That’s my ship talking, Quirk,” I said.
“Spin!” she said. “You found another ship?”