I can get them to show me how to fix certain pieces of M-Bot. I’ll have to do it without making them suspicious. Regardless, we’ll still need spare parts. At least one full-size booster.”
“I’ll find us one, somehow.”
“Just don’t tell me where you get it,” he noted. “Maybe, when this whole thing blows up in our faces, I can claim I didn’t know about any possible thefts you might be up to.”
“A small decal on that power matrix reads ‘property of the Weight family,’ ” M-Bot said helpfully. “It looks to have been ripped, quite crudely, from a small chassis. Blue finish, judging by the scratched-off paint on the corner.”
Rig sighed. “Jorgen’s car? Really?”
I plastered on a smile.
“The internship will take a chunk of each day,” he said, rubbing his chin. “But I should be able to dedicate the rest to this, if I need to. I’ll have to tell my parents something.”
“Tell them the internship is super demanding,” I suggested. “And that it will take the majority of your time.”
“But,” M-Bot said, “that’s not true, is it?”
“Nah,” I said. “But who cares?”
“I care,” the machine said. “Why would you say something that isn’t true?”
“You can simulate emotions,” I said, “but not lies?”
“I appear . . . to be missing some code,” M-Bot said. “Curious. Oh, what an interesting fungus!”
I frowned, then glanced to the side, to where Doomslug had crawled up on a rock.
“Scud,” Rig said. “There’s some weird stuff up here close to the surface.” He shivered. “Can you . . . do something about that thing?”
“That thing is named Doomslug,” I said, “and she’s my mascot. Don’t hurt her while I’m away.” I walked over, grabbing my pack. “I need to get to class. You going to head below?”
“Nah,” Rig said. “I suspected I might not be back for a while, so I left a note for my parents, saying I was going to an employment meeting. They’ll just assume I got up before them. I can head down later—I want to have a look at his wiring first.”
“Great,” I said. “If you’re still here when I get back from class each day, I’ll join you in the repairs. If not, leave me notes telling me what I can do to help.” I hesitated. “Remember, I’m kind of a dunderhead at this. So you might want to give me the easy—but annoying—tasks.”
Rig smiled once more, settling down on a rock, looking at M-Bot. There was a light in his eyes, one I remembered from back when we started planning to become pilots. In that moment, seeing Rig like that again, I had my first real impression that this might work. Somehow, this plan might just work.
“Wait,” M-Bot said. “You’re leaving me with him?”
“I’ll be back tonight,” I promised.
“I see. Could you come to the cockpit so we can speak in private?”
I looked at the ship, frowning.
“I don’t want to explain in public why I like you better than the engineer,” M-Bot added. “If he heard me go on—at length—regarding his irresolvable flaws, he might feel belittled or despondent.”
“Well, that part is going to be lovely,” Rig said, rolling his eyes. “Maybe we can find a way to shut off the personality.”
I pulled myself up into the cockpit. The canopy moved down and sealed with a whoosh. “It’s all right,” I said to M-Bot. “Rig is good people. He’ll take care of you.”
“I am, of course, simply emulating the way humans play irrational favorites over one another. But could you not go?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go learn to fight the Krell.” I frowned at the tone in the robot’s voice. “What’s wrong? I told you, Rig is a good—”
“I am willing to accept that he is until evidence proves otherwise. This is a problem: I appear to have lost my master.”
“I can be your new master.”
“I cannot change masters without proper authentication codes,” he said. “Which I just realized I do not remember. The problem, however, is larger than this mere fact. I do not remember my mission. I do not know where I came from. I do not know my purpose. If I were human, I would be . . . scared.”
How did I respond to that? A frightened starship?
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll give you a new purpose—destroying the Krell. You’re a fighter. M-Bot. I’m sure that name stands for something exciting. Murderbot . . . mayhembot. Massacrebot. That’s it, I’m sure. You’re a frightening, all-powerful death ship designed to fry the Krell and save