Cytonic (Skyward #3)(103)

“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.”