Fugitive Telemetry is the sixth (sixth!) story in Martha Wells’ Murderbot series, and the second full length novel. If I’m honest, I went into this one with high hopes. I have, as I’ve said before, a lot of time for Murderbot. As a construct, Murderbot was artificially shackled with a kill-switch, given the capacity to kill along with the tools and augmentations to do so very efficiently, and then forced to guard humans who, frankly, probably shouldn’t have been allowed out of doors on their own. All Murderbot really seems to want to do is be left alone to watch its soaps.
Or at least, so it claims. Murderbot is a free agent now, inhabiting a world which sits outside the control of the mega corporations. But it’s still looking after humans who probably shouldn’t be allowed to tie their shoes without help. Now, though, it’s doing so because it wants to, and that makes all the difference. The voice of Murderbot, the throughline which gives us its thoughts in between bursts of explosive, adrenaline-surge action, has changed. It’s still wry, dry, and oh so tired of everyone else’s nonsense. But it has found a hidden space for a candle of warmth that it can hold, askance, within itself. That voice is something special, something which speaks to everyone who has found themselves out from under the thumb of power, everyone who has, or is struggling to define themselves, and everyone looking at the people they’ve fallen amongst, the friends they would die for, the ones who always have your back. It speaks to something human in us, this voice of a construct which defines itself as something different, whilst having so much in common.
While I’m here: Fugitive Telemetry lets Murderbot expand, grow as an individual. It’s always trying to define what it is. And it’s always trying to do so from its own expectations, its own needs, and without leaning on the expectations of others. And that is a joy. Murderbot is so relatable, even while being an artificially constructed killing machine.
So yeah, this is the sixth story. If you’re here fresh, you can probably read this without the context of the previous five stories. It hangs together very well, the narrative is tightly constructed and compelling, and it’ll keep your attention. But the context, the history that has helped shape Murderbot, is in those other stories, and I urge you to go and read those first. If you’re an old hand, know that the Murderbot is on fine form today. The internal dialogue remains whip-smart, wry and world-weary, but it has a passion and an openness to it, an honesty that feels like the armour shifting, just a crack, to let both us and Murderbot explore who they want to be, under what they have been. It’s paired with the no-bullshit attitude I’ve always adored, and the sort of tense, intimate, precision crafted plotting that leaves you with questions and answers in equal measure, and with revelations that make you (or at least me) go “Oooooh” as they land.
After the explosive adventures of Network Effect, this story feels more intimate, a murder mystery, an exploration of the self that comes with bladed sarcasm, gunfire, and a body or two. It’s fair, as well. The audience has the same information as our eyes and ears in Murderbot; we can try and work out what’s going on alongside our interlocutor. We can be as baffled as they are, share the “Aha!” moments, and try and puzzle over the puzzles that murder leaves behind. Whodunit? Well, we’ll see. But I’ll say this: every step of the way, I was unable to put it down.
In short, this is a jewel of a story. Every part of it is necessary. Every part of it works. All the parts fit together, all the parts build something beautiful, build a narrative that will keep you up until far too late at night. Build something raw and painful and loving and warm, something where the action is kinetically explosive, and the characters are given the depth and life that makes them feel real. And it does all this while exploring issues of autonomy and power and humanity. Of friendship and family and understanding. Of ethics and truth. And it does all that while telling a damn good story.
So yeah. This, this is a damn good story. And that’s as high a praise as I can think to give.
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