“What?” I said, jumping to my feet. “What?”

“There’s always one,” Cobb said, “the day after the first battle. Usually that comes later in the training than it did for you all, but it always happens.”

Incredulous, I chased after Rig, scrambling out into the hallway. “Rig?”

He kept walking.

“Rig? What are you doing?” I ran after him. “Giving up after one little battle? I know you got shaken up, but this is our dream!”

“No, Spensa,” he said, finally stopping in the otherwise empty hallway. “That’s your dream. I was only along for the ride.”

“Our dream. All that studying, all that practice. Flight school. Rig. Flight school!”

“You’re repeating words like I can’t hear you.” He smiled. “But I’m not the one who doesn’t listen.”

I gaped.

He patted me on the shoulder. “I suppose I’m being unfair. I did always want to make it in. It’s hard not to get wrapped up in the excitement when someone close to you dreams so big. I wanted to prove to myself that I could pass the test. And I did.

“But then I got up there, Spensa, and I felt what it was like… When those destructors hit me, I knew. I couldn’t do that every day. I’m sorry, Spensa. I’m not a pilot.”

Those words made no sense to me. Even the sounds seemed strange leaving his mouth, as if he’d somehow switched to some foreign tongue.

“I thought about it all night,” he said, sounding sorrowful. “But I know. Spensa. Deep down, I’ve always known I wasn’t cut out for battle. I just wish I knew what I was supposed to do now. Passing the test was always the end goal for me, you know?”

“You’re washing out,” I said. “Giving up. Running away.”

He winced, and suddenly I felt awful.

“Not everyone has to be a pilot, Spensa,” he said. “Other jobs are important too.”

“That’s what they say. They don’t mean it.”

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. I guess… I need to think about it some more. Is there a job that involves only taking tests? I’m really good at that part, it turns out.”

He gave me a brief hug—during which I kind of stood there in shock—then walked off. I watched for a long while, until Cobb came out to get me.

“Dally any longer, cadet,” he said, “and I’ll write you up as being late.”

“I can’t believe you just let him go.”

“Part of my job is to spot which of you kids will best help out down here, instead of getting yourselves killed up there.” He shoved me lightly toward the room. “His won’t be the only empty seat when this flight graduates. Go.”

I walked back into the room and settled into my mockpit as the implication of those words sank in. Cobb almost seemed happy to send one of us away. How many students had he watched get shot down?

“All right,” Cobb said. “Let’s see what you remember from yesterday. Strap in, put on your helmets, and power on the holographic projectors. Get your flight into the air, flightleader, and prove to me it hasn’t all bled out your ears into your pillows. Then maybe I can teach you how to really start flying.”