I winced.

“But we don’t have to be like that,” Hurl continued. “That’s what I realized. A little fear, a little history, those things don’t mean anything. Only what we do means anything.” She looked toward me. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. It was just a… shock, when I found out. But you’re not him, and I’m not either, regardless of what I feel sometimes.”

“My father wasn’t a coward, Hurl,” I said. “The DDF lies about him.”

She didn’t look like she believed me, but she nodded anyway. Then she sat up, holding out her fist. “Not cowards. No backing down. Brave until the end, right Spin? A pact.”

I met her fist with mine. “Brave to the end.”

29

I woke up snuggled into too many blankets, and reached out to feel the side of M-Bot’s cockpit—but my hand slapped the side of a bed frame.

Right. What time was it? I tapped my light-line to glance at its clock, raising a soft glow in the room. Just before five in the morning. Two hours until we had to be ready for class.

I should have been exhausted, as we’d stayed up talking until after one. Strangely, I felt wide awake. Perhaps my brain knew that if I wanted to use the facilities and get cleansed today, I’d need to do it now—while everyone else in the building was sleeping.

In fact, it was probably best if I snuck out and was seen walking back to the building before class. I climbed out of my nest and stretched, then grabbed my backpack. I tried to be as quiet as possible, though I probably shouldn’t have worried. If the others could sleep through Hurl’s snoring, my pack scraping the floor wouldn’t disturb them.

I slipped open the door, then turned and looked at the three sleeping girls. “Thank you,” I whispered. Right then, I decided I wouldn’t let them do this again. It was too dangerous; I didn’t want to get them on the admiral’s bad side.

This had been wondrous. Even if it left me knowing, for sure, what I was missing. Even if I felt sick to have to walk away, even if I twisted inside, I wouldn’t have traded this night for anything. My only taste of what it was like to be part of a real flight of pilots.

That thought loomed in my mind as I walked to the bathroom and cleansed. Afterward, looking in the bathroom mirror, I smoothed back my wet hair. In all the stories, the heroes had stark black, golden, or red hair—something dramatic. Not dirty brown.

I sighed, threw my pack on my shoulder, and slipped out into the empty hallway. As I walked to the exit, a light down a corridor caught my attention. I knew that room—it was our classroom. Who would be there at this hour?

My curiosity overcame my common sense. I snuck over to peek in through the window in the door and saw Jorgen’s cockpit engaged, the hologram up and running. What was he doing here at 0530? Getting in a little extra practice?