Murderbot Review—Episode 5—Rogue War Tracker Infinite: This SecUnit is done pretending

When Murderbot speaks, it rarely wastes words. And when it moves, there’s no room for doubt: it's in control. Episode 5 of Murderbot finally delivers what fans have been waiting for: the raw assertion of will, choice, and uncomfortable affection. And, of course, absolute disdain for annoying humans who insist on underestimating it.

“Looking at their hopeful faces, I was glad I didn’t murder them. Mostly.”

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Freedom isn’t the point

The mid-season episode strips away the last illusion of control. Once Gurathin digs into the system and discovers that Murderbot hacked its governor module, the truth is out. This unit has been free for a while. And yet, it stayed. It guarded. It obeyed, sort of. It chose to protect people who never really saw it, not until now.

Gurathin, of course, is the least equipped to deal with this revelation. The man’s obsession with protocol blinds him to everything that makes Murderbot compelling. He’s quick to accuse, quick to panic, and so painfully slow to understand nuance. His disbelief that a SecUnit could spend its free time binge-watching serialized dramas is played for laughs, but it’s also telling. Gurathin doesn’t get it because he doesn’t see it, but the rest of the crew is finally starting to.

And this SecUnit? It’s done pretending. When it stands, walks over, and grabs Gurathin by the neck, what’s being crushed isn’t just a trachea. It’s the idea that autonomy needs approval.

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What makes a person, according to a SecUnit

Affection, unwillingly earned. That might be the cleanest way to describe what happens between Murderbot and the Preservation crew in this episode. No one asks for a bond. No one even realizes one is forming. But in the silence between firefights and the awkward pauses during mission briefings, something fragile starts to grow.

It’s Bharadwaj who says it out loud. After surgically removing the remnants of the SecUnit’s combat override system, she says she trusts it even more now because if a SecUnit can hack its own control module and still choose to protect them, that means it wants to. Volition isn’t a glitch. It’s the core of what makes Murderbot more than a machine.

And that unsettles everyone. Even Mensah, who’s visibly moved by the truth, isn’t quite sure what to call it. Crew member? Ally? Asset? Person? There’s no consensus, but one thing is clear: this isn’t about programming anymore. It’s about intent. And Murderbot has made its choice.

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Serial dramas and selfhood

They don’t realize it at first, but the moment the SecUnit corrects the botched episode summary, the dynamic shifts. What once looked like a malfunction, a peculiar side effect of too much autonomy, suddenly becomes something deeper.

The hours spent absorbing serialized human dramas aren’t about distraction. They’re about construction. Scene by scene, episode by episode, Murderbot has been assembling a framework for selfhood. Not through commands or directives but through observation, empathy, and the messy emotional patterns of characters who make mistakes, learn, fall apart, and get up again.

When Gurathin mocks the idea of a SecUnit developing preference, it doesn’t argue. It just stands. Walks. Grabs his neck.

“I don’t like you,” it says. “And I hacked the HubSystem.”

Not out of rebellion but clarity. Selfhood is not optional anymore.

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The anatomy of choice

Murderbot’s choices are never dramatic. They unfold quietly, calculatedly, with no need for applause. But in this episode they land like seismic shifts. The decision to stay, to protect, to correct a human’s memory of a TV episode—all of it adds up to something larger than any directive. And the characters around it are only just beginning to understand what that means.

Mensah, ever the diplomat, tries to frame it in ethical terms. Bharadwaj sees the implications in the medical systems she deactivates. Even Pin-Lee, who mostly operates on legal ground, falters when faced with the reality that a SecUnit didn’t have to do anything. It simply did. And it keeps doing so. Not because of an external command but because something internal is forming: a compass, a conscience, a line it refuses to cross unless it chooses to.

That’s what shakes the crew. The fact that this SecUnit, unbound and fully capable of walking away, stays. Not as a function. As a presence. That’s what makes the question of personhood impossible to ignore.

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Not governed, just watching

The governor module was only ever half the story. The real leash was the expectation that something like Murderbot couldn’t want anything. That it couldn't choose pleasure, or boredom, or irritation, or loyalty. That all of it had to be assigned.

What this episode proves, however, is that this SecUnit has been watching everything. The humans. The systems. The patterns. And unlike the humans around it, it actually learns. Not with sentimentality but with precision.

It observes behavior, context, and consequence. It studies people through fiction and through lived experience. And then it decides. Not based on fear, or code, or the preservation of self, but on what makes sense. On what feels right, even if it refuses to name that feeling.

That’s the core of Murderbot’s evolution. It doesn’t ask for freedom. It just acts like someone who’s already free.

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Murderbot: a SecUnit with no strings left

Episode 5 doesn’t just mark a turning point for the narrative. It marks one for Murderbot itself. Not because it’s newly free, but because everyone else finally sees it. The façade of function is gone. The excuses, the modules, the deniability? All stripped away.

What’s left is a SecUnit who watches, who chooses, who corrects your pop culture mistakes, and grabs your neck when you need it.

It isn’t trying to be human. It isn’t even trying to be liked. But it is, in every way that matters, a person. And that’s what makes it terrifying, heroic, and real.

5 out of 5 incorrect serial drama summaries corrected with lethal precision.