burial.”
34
I trudged across the dry, dusty ground. My compass kept me on the right heading, which was important, because everything looked the same out here on the surface.
I tried not to think. Thinking was dangerous. I’d barely known Bim and Morningtide, and their deaths had left me shaken for weeks. Hurl had been my wingmate.
It was more though. She’d been like me. At least, like I pretended to be. She was usually one step ahead of me, leading the charge.
In her death, I saw myself.
No. No thinking.
That didn’t stop the emotions. The hole inside, the pain of a wound rubbed raw. After this, nothing could ever be the same. Yesterday hadn’t just marked the death of a friend. It marked the death of my ability to pretend this war was—in any way—glorious.
My radio was blinking. I hit the switch.
“Spensa?” M-Bot asked. “Are you certain this journey is wise? I am not capable of worry, mind you, but—”
“I’d rather be alone,” I said. “I’ll call you tomorrow or something.” I clicked the radio off and stuffed it inside my backpack, where I’d stashed some rat meat and water for the journey. If it wasn’t enough, I could go hunting. Maybe I’d vanish into the caverns, never to return. Become a nomad, like my clan before the founding of Alta.
And never fly again?
Just walk, Spensa. I told myself. Stop thinking and walk.
This was simple.
This I could do.
I was about two hours outside Alta when a sound broke the quiet and I turned to see a hovercar approaching. It flew three meters off the ground and towed a wake of dust behind. Had someone warned the admiral? Had she sent MPs with some made-up reason why I couldn’t be out here?
No . . . As it got closer I realized I recognized that blue car. It was Jorgen’s. He must have gotten the power matrix replaced.
I grunted, then turned forward and kept walking. He pulled up beside me and lowered his car so that his head was barely a meter above mine.
“Spin? Are you really planning to walk eighty klicks?”
I didn’t reply.
“You realize it’s dangerous out here,” Jorgen said. “I should order you back. What if you get caught in a debris fall?”
I shrugged. I’d been living near the surface for months, and had only really been in danger that one time—when I’d discovered M-Bot’s cave.
“Spensa,” Jorgen said. “For the North Star’s sake, get in. I’ll drive you.”
“Don’t you have some fancy rich-person event you need to be attending?”
“My parents don’t know about the medical leave yet. For a little while, I’m as free as you are.”
Me? Free? I wanted to laugh in his face.
Still, he had a car. This would transform a multiday trip into one that would last a few hours. I resented him for giving me the option, as I’d wanted to be on my own. To suffer, perhaps. But a part of me knew I wouldn’t reach Hurl’s body with what I had in my pack. I’d probably be forced to turn back after a day of hiking.
“I want to go with you,” Jorgen said. “It’s a good idea. Hurl . . . deserves this. I brought some materials for the pyre.”
Stop being right, Jorgen. I thought. But I walked around the car and climbed into the passenger side. I had dust up to my thighs, which I smeared all over the car’s interior, but he didn’t seem to notice.
He pushed on the car’s throttle, sending us darting across the landscape. The car had a small acclivity ring, and no booster, just basic thrusters—but being so close to the ground, I felt like we were going faster than we really were. Particularly with no roof and the wind blowing my hair.
I let the motion transfix me.
“Do you want to talk?” Jorgen asked.
I didn’t reply. I didn’t have anything to say.
“A good flightleader is supposed to be able to help his flight with their problems,” he said. “You couldn’t have saved her, Spin. There’s nothing you could have done.”
“You think she should have pulled out,” I said.
“I . . . That’s not relevant now.”
“You think she shouldn’t have gone for that kill. You think she disobeyed protocol, and shouldn’t have flown off on her own. You’re thinking it. I know you are. You’re judging her.”
“So now you’re angry at me for things I might be thinking?”
“Were you thinking them? Were you judging her?”
Jorgen didn’t say anything. He kept driving, wind blowing in his too-neat, too-perfect hair.
“Why do you have to