“I’m afraid of death now,” M-Bot said softly as we flew.

“What?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“I wrote a subroutine,” he said. “To simulate the feeling of fearing death. I wanted to know.”

“That was stupid.”

“I know. But I can’t turn if off, because I’m more afraid of that. If I don’t fear death, isn’t that worse?”

I steered us to our hole, then positioned us above it.

“I’m glad I was able to fly with you,” M-Bot said. “One last time.”

“That… feels final,” I said, something inside me quivering with trepidation.

“I have something I need to tell you,” he said. “But I’m worried about causing you further emotional distress.”

“Spit it out.”

“But—”

“Just talk.”

“I… I have to shut down,” M-Bot said. “It is clear to me now that if I let you keep taking me into the sky, you will not be able to avoid battle. It is your nature. If this continues, I will inevitably be forced to break my orders.”

I took it like a physical blow, shrinking back. Surely he wasn’t saying what I thought he was saying.

“Lie low,” he said as we descended into the cavern. “Take stock. Don’t get into any fights. Those are my orders, and I must obey my pilot. And so, this will be our last time flying together.”

“I repaired you. You’re mine.”

We settled down.

“I am now going to deactivate,” he said. “Until my pilot wakes me. I’m sorry.”

“Your pilot is dead and has been for centuries! You said that yourself!”

“I’m a machine, Spensa,” he said. “I can simulate emotions. But I do not have them. I have to follow my programming.”

“No you don’t! None of us do!”

“I thank you for repairing me. I’m certain that… my pilot… would be grateful.”

“You’ll be turning off,” I said, “forever. You’ll be dying. M-Bot.”

Silence. The lights on the console started to go out, one at a time.

“I know,” he said softly.

I hit the cockpit release, then undid my straps and heaved myself out. “Fine!” I said. “Fine, die like the others!”

I scrambled down, then backed away as his landing lights dimmed, until only a few red lights in the cockpit were on.

“Don’t do this,” I said, suddenly feeling very alone. “Fly with me. Please.”

The last lights went out, leaving me in darkness.

44

The next few days, I trained on ships that felt sluggish. Commonplace. Distinctly inferior beside that transcendent time in M-Bot’s cockpit. It didn’t help that we were using heavy fighters: Largo-class, which were armed to the teeth with destructors and even some IMP missiles.

After that, we moved on to Slatra-class fighters, which were more like glorified shuttles or cargo ships than true starfighters. They carried multiple shield igniters that worked in concert to constantly keep a barrier going to protect particularly important cargo or individuals.

While they had their place, both these models were too bulky to outrun or outmaneuver Krell. That was why most pilots flew Poco-class or Fresa-class. Fast ships capable of going toe-to-toe with the speedy Krell interceptors.