Page 42 of Full Speed to a Crash Landing

He’s waiting now. No more questions, no more back-and-forth. So I continue. “By definition, for an action to be brave, it has to be a choice, right? You have to see two options, at least, and you have to do the difficult one, the one that scares you, the one you know is right but wish wasn’t. That’s what bravery is.”

“That’s what you did,” Rian says gently.

“No, you don’t understand. The choice is fake. It’s not real. Every action we take,everyaction we take, ultimately, weneverchoose to be brave or not. We just choose to survive.”

I’ve turned, facing him entirely, and he’s shifted too. This ship is big, but he’s the only thing I see right now.

“It wasn’t brave to climb up that rift yesterday,” I say. “The alternative was...” I shrug. “. . . to die. Putting one foot in front of the other, climbing up one handhold at a time...that’s just not bravery. It’s survival. And that is true of everything.”

I look down, not because I’m afraid of showing a lie but because it’s harder to look someone in the face when you’re telling the truth.

“Calling survival bravery...that fucks a person up. If someone gets sick, real sick? Months in the hospital, surgeries, experimental drugs...everyone calls that courage.”

“Is it not?” Rian asks. His voice is all gentle; even hiseyes are soft. And that’s when I know that telling him the worst truth inside me worked and kept him from seeing the worst lie. And I feel horrible for that, even in my triumph.

I shake my head. “Bravery’s a choice, right? No one chooses to get sick like that. So, they’re not brave. They’re just surviving.”

Because, I don’t say,you have to look at it the other way. If they’re brave for living, you’re saying they’re a coward for dying.

And that’s not fair. They didn’t choose that, either.

“I read your report,” Rian says.

But that’s not what he’s really saying.

He’s saying he got my background check. Last night, he wanted to celebrate. He didn’t tell me everything he read. But he knows, and he can’t keep it inside.

Pity always finds a way to leak out. It’s like mold, hidden roots spreading rot inside that eventually has to burst out.

He read about what happened. The climate sickness. The way my father died.

And he’s also saying he read about what came after.

Time to change the subject. Shift it to the right, so he doesn’t see what’s left.

I look up, grinning. “Petty theft, a spot of vandalism.”

Rian quirks up an eyebrow. “Is that what you call anarchist messages hacked into the advertising system that went out to the whole European continent on Sol-Earth?” He used that word on purpose,anarchist. I’m not an anarchist.I’m a realist. He just thinks that because last night I didn’t hail him as a hero for working on Earth’s environment, that I think the only other option to his government is no government.

I don’t hate the government. I just don’t think it’s effective. He’s never had a reason to doubt the system.

I’ve never had a reason to trust it.

“I just rearranged a few pixels in the ad sys.” On millions of screens. “No lasting damage.”

Besides, he and I both know I paid for that little crime, a fee that sent me to debt that sent me to space to scavenge ships and pay it off so I could avoid anything harsher.

You pay for everything in time or money.That’s what Papa always said. But sometimes, a person doesn’t have either. And that’s why I learned to steal.

Rian huffs, and I can tell that he’s a little amused by what I’ve said, how I’ve dismissed my crimes. Probably thinks I was just acting out, blowing off steam in my late teens. Now that I’m older, rebellion’s been tempered out of me. Hard work has burned politics out of me, surely, and while I didn’t throw a parade for this mission, I’m still willing to work it with him.

Why does everyone assume everything listed in a report is all there is? It’s easy to get pegged for the little crimes. You only ever get pegged for the big ones once, and by then, the report’s useless.

“So,” I say, clapping my hands on my thighs before I get up. “You know my past. Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lessons, and I’ll get back to a scavenging rig and out of your hair soon enough, give you plenty of room to save the world.”

Rian stands too. It’s almost time to go. We’ve got to suit up, and that’s not a task that can be rushed. But he doesn’t start down the corridor. He’s searching my face, and his eyes are sharp enough to cut my mask right off.

“The offer still stands,” he says softly. “You can stay on theHalifaxas long as you want. And eat all the lentils you can stomach.”

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