Jorgen stumbled to his feet, holding his stomach. “She struck a superior. She assaulted another member of her flight!”

“She went a little overboard, yeah,” Nedd said. “But, I mean, you asked for it, Jorgen. No permanent damage, right? Can’t we just forget about it?”

Jorgen looked at me, and his expression hardened.

No. This wouldn’t be forgotten. I was in serious trouble this time. I met his eyes, then—finally—I grabbed my pack and left.

24

It had been years since I’d lost it that bad.

For all my aggressive talk, I really hadn’t gotten in that many fights as a kid. I pretended I was some warrior or something, but the truth was that when most kids heard the way I talked, they backed off. And if I was being honest, their hesitance was probably less about being afraid of me, and more about being made uncomfortable by my bizarre air of confidence.

It worked. It kept them away, and didn’t put me in situations where I lost control. Because I could do that, and not like a brave warrior from the stories. More like a cornered, frenzied rat. Like when I’d caught Finn Elstin stealing Rig’s lunch. Finn had ended up with a black eye and a broken arm. I’d had to spend a year on juvenile probation, and had been kicked out of judo classes for inappropriate use of violence.

I’d been under the age of legal accountability then, so my actions hadn’t jeopardized my chances at flight school. Today’s assault was different. Today I was old enough to have known better.

I sat on one of the benches in the orchard outside the DDF complex. What was Jorgen going to do to me? If he went to the admiral, I’d be out. Done. And I’d deserve it.

I really wasn’t like a warrior from Gran-Gran’s stories. Far from it. I could barely function when my friends died in battle, and now I lost control at a couple of petty insults? Why couldn’t I control myself? Why did I bristle when Jorgen said those things? I’d lived with them my entire life.

As the sky darkened, the closest skylight moving off, I sat there in the orchard, waiting, expecting the MPs to come for me. The only thing I heard was a faint sound… a buzzing? Coming from my pack?

Frowning, I dug in it until I found the radio. I lifted it up and pressed down the Receive button.

“Hello?” M-Bot said. “Spensa? Are you dead?”

“Maybe.”

“Oooh. Like the cat!”

“… What?”

“I’m not sure, honestly,” M-Bot said. “But logically, if you’re speaking to me then possibility has collapsed in our favor. Hurray!”

I leaned back against the bench and reluctantly chewed on a piece of jerky. If they were going to come for me, they’d come for me. I might as well eat. I didn’t feel hungry, but I never did these days. Too much rat.

“Are you going to explain to me who you were fighting?” M-Bot asked.