“Do us all a favor and don’t ever become a pilot,” she says now that she’s had a closer look.

I grunt. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“How about this…” Through the window, I see Glacia point behind us. “Try to fly in a circle around the transport. Take it slow…if you really have to.”

Thanks. More mockery.

“Fine.”

I set my fingers on the track pad. The thrusters flare and the Molter accelerates. I adjust my angle. Stay in a circle. Keep it even. The slightest movement of my fingers causes the Molter to swerve and dip at random times, no matter how steady I hold my hands.

“You know you can take your fingers off when you aren’t using them, right?” Glacia asks.

“Um…no?”

She laughs. “And here I thought you really were just that bad.”

When I take my thumb off the track pad, the Molter doesn’t wobble every time I adjust my other fingers. Of course she’d tell me this now, when I’ve already made myself look like an idiot.

Typical.

It takes three laps before Glacia declares my stability to be acceptable by her standards. Then she leads me farther from the transport, outside the range of the other Recruits, who are busy flying in practice laps. I wonder if the girl who threw up ever came out. Flying Molters definitely isn’t for her, and it sure isn’t my favorite pastime, either.

“Let’s see what these things can really do!”

Before I realize what she means, Glacia burns her thrusters and speeds away. Her Molter plummets toward the desert at an alarming rate, but she pulls up with plenty of space to spare.

I don’t budge. I’ll puke if I try that stunt, and that’s a mess I don’t want to deal with while trapped in this metal box.

Yeah, not happening.

“Where’d you go?” Glacia says. She’s so far away that I can’t see her Molter anymore. “Are you even coming?”

“I’ll just stick around here.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m not good at this,” I insist.

“And you expect to get better…how?”

Even though she can’t see me, I shrug. Other than that, I don’t respond. What does she expect? I’m not a good-at-everything-I-do perfectionist like she is. First the shooting range, now this. The Hologis tournament is tonight, yet another chance for her to show off.

A gray dot zooms toward me. Glacia slows to a stop and hovers by my side. I know she’s looking at me, but I keep my eyes down and pretend to practice finger movements.

“I’ll be right here,” she says. “And if anything goes wrong, the pilots can take over remotely.”

“Yup, I know.”

“Then come on. It’s fun! And the view is great.”

“I believe you.”