No. Because I didn’t know, deep down, if I was a coward or not. Because I worried not only about the defect, but about whether I was worthy of flying. In that moment, the truth struck me hard. Like the admiral, I was using the defect as an excuse to avoid facing the real issue.

To avoid discovering for myself who I was.

I stood up and dashed out of the restaurant. Forget the defect—they were going to drop a lifebuster to destroy both Alta and Igneous. It didn’t matter if I was dangerous. The Krell were far, far more so.

I raced down the street toward the base, a vague plan of going to M-Bot coalescing in my mind. But that would take too long—besides, he’d shut himself down. I imagined bursting into the cavern only to be confronted by a dead, empty piece of metal that wouldn’t turn on.

I stopped in the street, puffing, sweating, and looked out toward the hills—then toward Alta Base.

There was one other ship.

I dashed up the street and through the gates, flashing my cadet’s pin to gain admittance. I turned right, toward the launchpads, and scrambled up to the ground crew, who were launching medical transports to go to the AA guns. The bulky, slow ships rose smoothly into the air on large acclivity rings.

I spotted Dorgo, the ground crewman who often worked my ship, and ran up to him.

“Skyward Ten?” Dorgo said. “What are you—”

“The broken ship, Dorgo,” I said, puffing. “Skyward Five. Arturo’s ship. Will it fly?”

“We’re supposed to break it down for parts,” Dorgo said, taken aback. “We got a start on fixing it up, but shields are out and we never got replacements. Steering is compromised as well. It’s not battle-worthy.”

“Will it fly?”

Several members of the ground crew glanced at each other.

“Technically,” Dorgo said, “yes.”

“Prep it for me!” I said.

“Did the admiral approve this?”

I glanced at the side of the launchpad, where a radio like Arturo’s was belting out the flightleader channel. They’d been listening.

“There’s a second group of Krell heading straight for Alta,” I said, pointing. “And there are no reserves. Do you want to go talk to the woman who hates me for irrational reasons, or do you want to just get me into the scudding air?”

Nobody spoke.

“Prep Skyward Five!” Dorgo finally shouted. “Go, go!”

Two ground crewmen ran off, and I dashed into the locker room, emerging a minute later—after the fastest change ever—in a flight suit. Dorgo led me to a Poco that the crew was pulling out onto the launchpad with a ship tow.

Dorgo grabbed a ladder. “Tony, that’ll do! Unhook!”

He slammed the ladder into place even as the ship stopped.

I scrambled up and into the open cockpit, trying not to look at the black destructor scars on the left side of the ship. Scud, it was in bad shape.

“Listen, Spin,” Dorgo said, following me up. “You don’t have a shield. Do you understand? The system was burned out completely, and we ripped it free. You are totally exposed.”