“They’re frightened of me,” I said. “They proposed a truce. They hate my presence in here, but they’re willing to tolerate it in order to not escalate our interactions.”
“And if we continue?” M-Bot asked.
“They’ll consider that an act of aggression. They’ll do everything they can to stop us.”
“A dilemma,” M-Bot said.
“Not if I stay,” I whispered. “Chet wants me to join him exploring, and Peg wants me to train her people. Both made me offers earlier.” I leaned forward, my hands clasped, not looking toward his drone.
“How likely are the delvers to keep a deal?” he asked.
That question again.
“Hard to say,” I replied. “They’re frightened now, but who knows? We have no evidence that they’re trustworthy. If Winzik came to me with a similar deal, for example, I’d discard it in a heartbeat.”
“Curious,” M-Bot said. “Spensa…I’ll admit, I’ve been thinking of my own dilemma.”
I glanced at his drone. “What?”
“My old ship,” he explained, “had specific circuitry that let me process in the nowhere. That’s why I could think fast enough to…well, be me. But the drone…well, do you remember how I talked when you first found me in it?”
“Slowly,” I said. “Like you were struggling for each word.”
“I can only assume,” he explained, “that being in the belt lets me process quickly, regardless of the machinery I inhabit. But my old ship, the one that let me think so well in the somewhere, has been destroyed. I no longer blame you for that, by the way. I’m getting pretty mature, I’d say.”
I smiled.
“Anyway,” he said, “if we leave this place, what happens to me? Do I return to thinking like my processors are made of oatmeal?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It seems…for a little while at least…that would be inevitable.”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” he said. “For weeks now. And I’ve decided. I’m willing to go back. We have a war to win. I decided I’d try inhabiting the best computers we had; maybe one on the platforms. I think I’d make a good space station, don’t you?
“If not that, maybe we could steal the schematics that Winzik must have made while disassembling my old ship. Then we could build me a new proper brain. But anyway, I decided that if you went back, I’d go with you. I just…just thought I should tell you.”
Scud. He was braver than I was. I felt ashamed for not noticing the dilemma he faced—this worry must have been bothering him ever since we entered. Some friend I was.
Thinking of friends made me sick again at what I was contemplating. How would I ever face Jorgen if I made the decision to stay?
A part of me, however, knew I couldn’t focus on his needs, or M-Bot’s decision. I had to decide what I wanted. Not choose my future because of what any other person—even Jorgen—would want me to do. For once, I had to think of myself.
I glanced at Hesho, wondering if he’d chime in. For now, he continued sitting in his meditative posture, his eyes closed.
“M-Bot,” I said, “I’ve spent my entire life being indoctrinated into the war for Detritus. I don’t blame anyone—except maybe the Krell—for that. We did what we had to in order to survive. But…I’m tired. Of watching people die. Of giving up my future to a war. Of living my life with my stress at a constant ten. How much do I owe Detritus? How much is one person expected to pay?”
His drone hovered beside me, silent for long enough that I eventually glanced at it. For once I wished he were a person so that I could see the disgust in his face. I deserved that for the way I was talking.
Instead he was an AI. “I suppose,” he said, “that makes some sense.”
I had to be truthful with him. I had to voice it.
“There’s another reason that I want to stay,” I said. “I…love this. I can explore with Chet, and the Broadsiders practically worship me. It’s like living in a story. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, M-Bot. I can do that here. I can fly. I can explore, I can fight the Superiority. I can spar. Live…”
“That,” he said, “makes even more sense, knowing you.”
“Lord Hesho?” I asked. “I could use your wisdom.”
“Wisdom fled me, warrior-sister,” he said. “Wisdom is born of experience, you see, and I have none.”
“I sense wisdom even in that answer,” I said to him. “Am I a coward for preferring to stay? It’s not that I fear dying by continuing, it’s merely that…”
“You are tired of sacrificing what you want for the good of your people,” Hesho said.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“That is not cowardice, but selfishness,” he said.
I winced.
“However,” he continued, “duty should not be accepted without question. Duty can be a motive, but should not be an excuse. Does your fight uphold honor and virtue? Does it match your moral code?”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever thought about those things,” I said. “I mean, there was the enemy, and there was us. I pointed myself in their direction and let loose…”
That wasn’t strictly true.
“After living with the enemy,” I admitted, “I learned it wasn’t so simple. I didn’t discover that their cause was just, mind you. Only that most of them weren’t evil. They were merely people. Following, by accident, someone who was evil.”
“Excellent,” he said. “You have left behind the worldview of a child.” He cracked an eye. “How old are you, among your species?”
“A young adult,” I said.
“Then I might question the society that allowed you to persist in such naivety for so long,” he said. “Among the first lessons a warrior must learn is the knowledge that his immediate enemy—the person he must kill—is just trying to survive. Soldiers are alike, no matter their side.”
“I…don’t know that anyone among us knew who the enemy were,” I said. “Only that they were trying to destroy us. And…I thought you said you didn’t remember enough to be wise, Hesho?”
“It seems,” he said, “you ask the right questions. I do not know why I say these things, simply that they are true.” He closed his eyes again. “You are not a coward, nor are you selfish, for realizing you have options, warrior-sister. You cannot be defined by your questions. Only by what you do with them.”
Well, Hesho was the same person—with or without memories. What really frightened me, then, was that this was who I was.
I saw what would happen if I stayed. I would become like Chet. Everyone I knew—even the person I’d been—would fade. I’d remember only the stories, and I’d become more and more like someone who felt she was one of those heroes. I’d forget everything and let the part of me that had always made up boasts take control. In forty years, I probably wouldn’t even remember the fight for Detritus, or why I’d stayed.
But I’d love every minute of it.
I stood up and walked to the edge of the balcony, staring out at that great, brilliant white light—but one with a softness to it. It appeared to absorb everything that drew near. Merged them with the light…
I closed my eyes, and searched outward for my father.
The reality icon was still nearby. I assumed it was somehow his soul, though I had no real proof. Maybe that was what I wanted to believe.
Could I face him though? With this doubt inside me?
I felt him. That emotion that had been guiding me, supporting me all along. Was it really my father? I knew it wasn’t Gran-Gran or Jorgen. So…was it, maybe, God? Like spoken of in the Book of Saints?
The pin brushed my mind. It welcomed me. Wanted me to come to it now. Was I brave enough for that?