Page 9 of Defiant

“I never said I was.”

“You feel it,” he said.

I agree,M-Bot said to me.You’re not a monster, Spensa.

Chet and I…we weren’t so certain. We’d become something dangerous. Something that was contemplating killing all of his kind. What was that if not monstrous?

But if there was one thing stories had taught me about monsters,it was that they were strong. I nodded at the statistics. “You’re frightened, Jorgen. Scud,Cobbis frightened. But maybe…maybe we shouldn’t be. We never broke before the Krell. Why would we bend before numbers on a page?”

“I’m not bending,” he said. “I’m just…feeling the weight of it. Ironsides is right—once the enemy’s production capacities come fully to bear on this war, we’ll be crushed. We’ve survived before because Winzik’s hands were bound by policy, the compassion of others, or his lack of resources. He’s lined those impediments up, Spin, and executed them one at a time with a destructor blast to the head. We’re next.”

“So,” I replied, “maybe what weneedis a monster.”

“Spensa—”

“I had a chance to come home,” I said. “Right as I jumped into the nowhere over a month ago, I had an opportunity to return.”

“You told me.”

“I stayed. We both agreed I should stay. Because we both knew this was coming—a fight we couldn’t win with pilots and guns alone.” I tapped my sternum. “I chose this path. I’ve become the weapon we need. I just have to figure out how to use it before…”

As I trailed off, he cocked his head, then leaned closer. “Beforewhat,Spensa?”

“Do you know,” I said, “what happens to the hero at the end of the stories?”

“Depends on the story.”

“They go home,” I whispered.

I felt the room vibrate around me. Jorgen’s coffee appeared on the table again, though three of the chairs vanished.

Are you…are you all right?M-Bot said in my head.The delvers are goingwildright now, Spensa.

At the end of the story…at the end of the story, the hero came home, and found herself transformed…into someone who didn’t belong, and could never belong, with the people she’d left behind. It was the same in almost every story I’d read.

Heroes didn’t get to stay and live in the new world they helped create. Even if I pulled off some kind of miracle and saved my people…that would be the end of it. For me.

I gritted my teeth so tightly my jaw ached. But with balled fists and force of will, I tamped down my emotions again, stopped the vibrations. Then I gave Jorgen a smile. Because he needed one.

“You know,” I said, “I really should be jealous.”

“Of…my incredible new haircut?”

“Of the slugs,” I said, punching him in the arm. “When I left, I was the quirky girl with a slug. I mean, who has a pet slug? It was unusual. Distinctive. Now I get back and you havedozensof them?”

“Maybe hundreds…” he mumbled.

“In eight varieties.”

“We think there may be even more…”

“And everyone is cuddling them and carrying them around like babies,” I said, hands in the air. “FM probablybatheswith hers.”

“I know you think you’re exaggerating,” he said, “but I’m pretty sure she does.”

“Next thing you know,” I said, “everyonewill be quoting Sun Tzu and savoring the sounds of bones breaking! I won’t be the least bit special anymore.”

He stepped closer. Uncomfortably—or in this instance fartoocomfortably—close. He leaned down. “No,” he whispered. “Nothing could ever make you less special. To me.”

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