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reminds me of her, because Jenny was fragile too. The thought of living inside a machine terrified her. She was sick and scared and horribly confused.
    I shake my Quarter-bot’s head to make the image go away. This isn’t the first time that memories of Jenny have overwhelmed my circuits. It happens to me at least once a week, ever since she died. That’s one of the big disadvantages of having an electronic mind—your memories never fade. It never gets any easier.
    Hawke notices my movement and stares at me, furrowing his brow. Shannon also stares, pointing her camera lenses at me for the first time since she came into the Danger Room. But neither Hawke nor Shannon makes any comment. The general clears his throat again.
    â€œI have just one more thing to say, Pioneers. There won’t be any easy victories in the war that’s about to start. Sigma is building up its army and preparing for a long siege against us. And when the attack comes, it’ll be fierce and unrelenting. But if you stay strong and united, I know you’ll prevail. I have faith in you.”
    Hawke is an old-fashioned military man who believes in the power of inspirational speeches, even when they’re addressed to eight-hundred-pound robots. He looks at each of us in turn, apparently trying to gauge the impact of his words. Then he bellows, “Carry on, Pioneers,” and marches out of the room.
    Shannon follows him, striding close behind. Zia salutes for a third time as they leave, and Marshall lets out a synthesized groan.
    I wait exactly nine seconds. Then I also leave the Danger Room. Hawke and Shannon are out of sight by the time I reach the corridor, but my acoustic sensor picks up the sound of the Diamond Girl’s footsteps.
    I stride down the corridor, following the sound.

CHAPTER
4
    I know Shannon’s schedule. Every morning at ten o’clock she goes to her room on the third floor of the White Sands headquarters to recharge her batteries. It’s a quick, simple operation. You just stand beside the charging station in your room and plug the power cord into the port on your robot’s torso.
    Recharging is how we get our energy, but it isn’t as enjoyable as eating. We feel neither pleasure nor pain when topping off our batteries. Yet all five of us have come to think of it as a very private act. No Pioneer would ever recharge in the presence of another. It would be just as rude and gross as one person watching another sit on a toilet.
    The recharging process takes six minutes, and so at 10:06 a.m. I march down the corridor to Shannon’s room, which is only twenty feet from mine. All the Pioneers have private rooms on the third floor. Besides recharging, we use the rooms for going into “sleep mode,” which is when we shut down our sensors and most of our logic circuits. Sleep mode isn’t essential for a Pioneer—you can go months without it—but I always feel better after napping for a couple of hours.
    Our rooms are also where we store our personal belongings, but we don’t have many of those. When Sigma destroyed our previous headquarters six months ago, we lost most of the mementos from our human lives. I used to have several Super Bowl posters and a Star Wars chess set and a whole shelf of comic books, but they’re all gone now. And though I could ask Dad for new comic books and posters, I haven’t gotten around to it yet. I guess I’m worried that the request might seem a little pathetic. Robots don’t really need mementos. Our electronic brains have total recall.
    I stop in front of the door to Shannon’s room. Luckily, no other Pioneers are in the corridor. I wait until 10:07 a.m. to be sure that Shannon has finished recharging, and then I raise my Quarter-bot’s right hand and clench the steel fingers into a fist to knock. But I hesitate, just standing there, afraid. I need to talk to Shannon, to find out why she’s been acting so