Exit Strategy (The Murderbot Diaries, #4)

by Martha Wells

(I like endless historical family drama serials, but in real life, ghosts are way more annoying.)

Bye, Ship. You were there when it counted.

(Possibly I was overthinking this. I do that; it’s the anxiety that comes with being a part-organic murderbot. The upside was paranoid attention to detail. The downside was also paranoid attention to detail.)

So now I was not only a rogue unit, I was a rogue unit carrying a weapon designed to shoot armored security. Which is just playing to the humans’ expectations, I guess.

(For one thing, the shows and serials were trying to communicate accurately with the viewer. As far as I could tell, real humans usually didn’t know what the hell they were doing.)

Twenty-seven minutes was more than enough time for me to do something stupid.

The feed was a maze of vids and ads and instructions and music, competing with the floating display surfaces and the holosculptures of giant waterfalls and trees and abstract art things.

This sounds like a sensory overload nightmare

Me, a generic type augmented human person with my hood folded down on my back, didn’t get a second glance. This is why humans shouldn’t do their own security.

How humans decide what to do with their arms on a second-by-second basis, I still have no idea.)

I was having an emotion, and I hate that.

So the plan wasn’t a clusterfuck, it was just circling the clusterfuck target zone, getting ready to come in for a landing.

Disinformation, which is the same as lying but for some reason has a different name, is the top tactic in corporate negotiation/warfare.

I stepped out of the pod into dark purple clouds, lightning, simulated rain, and the startled yelps and laughter of the waiting passengers.

On the drama!

In the shows, I saw humans comfort each other all the time at moments like this. I had never wanted that and I still didn’t. (Touching while rendering assistance, shielding humans from explosions, etc., is different.) But I was the only one here, so I braced myself and made the ultimate sacrifice. “Uh, you can hug me if you need to.”

It would have been hilarious if I wasn’t about to die. It was still a little hilarious.

She looked mad and exhausted, which was exactly the way I felt. I sent, You have no idea what I am. She tilted her head and looked more mad. I know exactly what you are. You’re afraid, you’re hurt, and you need to calm the fuck down so we can get through this situation alive.

Fine, I sent. I sounded sulky, because I was sulky. I hate emotions.

The one good thing about having emotions was that it accelerated the repair process for my memory storage.

It was very dramatic, like something out of a historical adventure serial. Also correct in every aspect except for all the facts, like something out of a historical adventure serial.

My transport called for boarding, and I didn’t get on.