“None run their own air force. They’ve been able to settle down because the Krell attention is focused on us.”
“Some use ships for trading,” I pointed out.
“And you’d abandon the fight?” he asked. “Go run cargo?”
“I don’t know.” I sank back in my seat, trying not to sulk. He was right. He was usually right. I was starting to kind of not hate him, but he was still Jerkface.
He sighed. “Look, if you want to fly, maybe I can get you duty as a private pilot. A few of the families in the deep caverns maintain fighters as escorts for trading operations. You wouldn’t need to repair any old salvage. You could use one of our ships. Arturo’s family has a few.”
I perked up. “Really? That’s something I could do?”
“Maybe.” He thought for a moment. “Well, probably not. The slots are highly contested, usually flown by retired DDF pilots. And . . . and you need a really great reputation.”
Something the daughter of a coward doesn’t have. And will never have, unless I can fight for the DDF.
The great contradiction of my life. I would never be worth anything unless I could prove myself—but I couldn’t prove myself because nobody would give me the chance.
Well, I wasn’t willing to give up the dream of flying M-Bot. Ridiculous—and ill-conceived—as my plans sounded when Jorgen laid them out, M-Bot was my ship. I’d find a way.
We flew in silence. And that left me thinking about the booster, my mind shifting to the wreckage. Strangely, it seemed that I could still feel the flames against my skin. I’d hoped that performing the funeral would help with the pain, but I still ached. Hurl’s passing left so much emptiness. So many questions.
Is this going to happen every time I lose a friend in battle? I wondered. It made me want to run away and become a cargo pilot like Jorgen said. To never have to face the Krell or their destructors again.
Coward.
Eventually Alta came into sight in the distance. I took Jorgen’s arm and pointed a few degrees to the left, toward my hidden cavern. “Fly us that direction.”
He gave me a suffering look, but did as I’d asked. I had him stop forty meters or so from my hole, to avoid any blowing dust revealing the part of the ground that was a hologram.
He lowered the hovercar to gently set the booster down. As soon as I felt it hit the surface, I attached my light-line to one side of the car and prepared to lower myself to unhook the booster.
“Spin,” Jorgen said, stopping me. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“For making me do this. It feels better to have seen her off properly.”
Well, at least it had helped one of us.
“I’ll see you in a week,” he said. “My family will probably schedule every moment of my free time.” He looked at me, then got a very strange expression on his face. “This broken ship . . . it’s got a working acclivity ring?”
“I . . . Yes.” He’d helped me out, and he knew enough already to get me into trouble ten times over if he wanted. He deserved honesty. “Yes, it’s got an acclivity ring. The whole ship is in better shape than you’d think, actually.”
“You fix it, then,” he said. “You fix it, and you fly. You find a way, and you defy them. For those of us who don’t have the courage.”
I cocked my head, but he turned away, setting his jaw and taking the wheel in both hands. So I lowered myself down, then unhooked the booster. We were close enough that I could maneuver M-Bot over and attach it, then lower it into the cavern. I’d need the chain though, so I only unhooked one end.
I waved to Jorgen, and when he rose up, the chain slid through the tow rings underneath his car and fell beside me. He didn’t ask after it. He just flew off toward Alta. And responsibility.
Somehow . . . it was true. Somehow, I was more free than he was. Which felt crazy.
I pulled my radio from my backpack. “Hey, guess what, M-Bot. I have a present for you.”
“Mushrooms?”
“Better.”
“。 . . Two mushrooms?”
I smiled. “Freedom.”
36
“I’m not going to ask you where you got this,” Rig said. He was standing, his hands on his hips, looking at the booster, which M-Bot and I had moved to the cavern floor.
“See, that’s why you’re in engineering,” I said. “You’re smart.”
“Not smart enough to stay out of this mess,” he said.
I grinned. M-Bot’s maintenance gear included a small mobile acclivity ring for service purposes. Dwarfed by the big one he flew with, it was a small hoop no larger than my hands pressed together, with a rechargeable power source.
Rig and I placed the maintenance ring under the booster. That—once activated—raised the hunk of metal into the air about a meter. Together we pushed it into place behind M-Bot, near where it would need to be installed.
“So?” I asked. “Will it fit?”
“I can probably make it fit,” Rig said, prodding at the booster with a wrench. “Whether I can make it work or not will depend on how damaged it is. Please tell me you didn’t rip this off a functioning DDF ship.”
“You said you weren’t going to ask.”
He flipped the wrench in his hand, eyeing the booster. “You had better thank me in your speech when you hit ace.”
“Six times.”
“And name your firstborn son after me.”
“Firstborn will be Executioner Destructorius. But you can have number two.”
“And bake me some killer algae biscuits or something.”
“Do you seriously want to eat anything I’ve baked?”
“Now that I think about it, scud no. But next time I bake some, you better have a compliment ready. No more ‘It would taste better with some rat in it.’ ”
“On my honor as a pilot,” I said solemnly.
Rig put his hands back on his hips, then grinned widely. “We’re actually going to do it, aren’t we? We’re going to make this old bucket fly.”
“I’d be insulted at that,” M-Bot said through the speakers at the side of the ship, “if I were human!”
Rig rolled his eyes. “Would you go keep that thing occupied? I don’t want it jabbering at me while I work.”
“I can both talk to her and bother you!” M-Bot called. “Multitasking is an essential means by which an artificial intelligence achieves more efficiency than fleshy human brains.”
Rig looked at me.
“No insult intended!” M-Bot added. “You have very nice shoes!”
“We’ve been working on his compliments,” I said.
“They aren’t nearly as stupid as the rest of your outfit!”
“He still needs practice.”
“Just stop him from bothering me, please,” Rig said, lugging over his toolbox. “Honestly, if I ever find the person who thought it was a good idea to make a machine that talked to you while you were repairing it . . .”
I climbed up to the cockpit and latched it, pressurizing and soundproofing it. “Leave him alone, M-Bot,” I said, settling into my seat. “Please.”
“If you wish. My processors are busy anyway, trying to devise a proper joke about the fact that Rig is installing me a new butt. My logic circuits are arguing that the expeller I use for old oil is actually a better metaphoric anus.”