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“And now…”

“Now I’m going to declare myself demoted!” I said.

His smile widened. “Spensa, you can’t declare that.”

“Rule 48b, subrule 18—”

“In theHandbook of Intersectional Discipline,” he said. “Yes. It says that an officer, upon failure or disgrace, can request demotion. As a form of saving face, Spensa. It lets an officer admit they’ve made a tactical error with grave consequences—and is actually there to prevent them from committing suicide, as would occasionally happen in some militaries. At any rate, they canrequestdemotion.”

“Which is what I’m doing.”

He gave me a flat stare.

“In my own way,” I admitted. Then I softened my tone. “Look, I’mtrying.”

“I know you are,” he said, walking over to me. “I appreciate it.But you could just apologize.”

“That’s the thing,” I said, then bit my lip.

“You don’t think you did anything wrong, do you?”

“It’s…complicated,” I said. “I broke the rules, sure. But…Jorgen, I would do it again. So maybe it’s best if you just bust me back to LT as a consequence.”

He sighed, settling down in one of the seats around the table. I, after a moment’s hesitation, did likewise.

“Spensa,” he said, “what would that accomplish? No one follows you because of yourrank,and I doubt you care about it. I could name you an airman in charge of floor mopping, and it wouldn’t make a difference.”

He…had a point. Plus, in the stories, it was practically a rite of passage for the heroine to repeatedly get kicked out of the military. Never really bothered them. It had only happened to me once that I could recall, so I wasn’t even keeping up.

I put my elbows on the table, looking him in the eyes. “I’msorry,” I said softly, “for hurting you. I’m sorry for ignoring your authority. If I were to do it again, I’d talk to you. But…I know I’d go again, if you said no. I’m a terrible soldier, aren’t I?”

“Your passion is what makes you a great soldier, Spensa,” he said. “But is it reallythatdifficult to trust me? To try itmyway? Just to see?”

“I read the rules!”

He reached his hand across the table, palm up. I hesitantly put mine on top of it.

“That’s a step forward,” he said. “I appreciate the gesture.”

“I will…listen better. And try things your way.” I sighed. “This was a whole lot more fun when you were my rules-obsessed boyfriend and I could corrupt you. Why’d you have to go and become the guy in charge of everything?”

“I didn’t choose that so much as have it forced upon me…”

“Sure,” I said. “Youcan just up and decide to be admiral, but ifItry to changemyrank…” I smiled at him, and got a smile back. “So…” I continued, “can I please go duel Brade to the death in a contest of honor?”

He gave me a long, slow blink. “Who?”

“Brade,” I said, realizing that Jorgen hadn’t been there for most of my experiences with her. “Winzik’s pet human cytonic. I flew with her at Starsight…you saw her once, I think. You saved me when she was trying to capture my soul?”

“Right,” he said. “Short, dark hair? Sneer on her lips?”

“Yup,” I said. “She’s been popping up in my head lately, connecting to me cytonically. She invited me to come try to kill her. Can I go do it, please please please?”

“One of the Superiority’s cytonics has invited you to a duel?” he said. “Spensa, that’sobviouslya trap.”

“Hesho and I figured that,” I said. “We’ll scout it out first.”

He squeezed my hand. I thought I could follow his thoughts as various pieces of him warred, each one trying to be victorious and get to explain howterriblethis idea was.