With that, she goes, hoping he has the good sense to listen. Regardless, she’s getting off this rock.
Noemi hauls herself down to the bridge. Abel’s chair at navigation looks so empty. She shouts, “Autolaunch! Bypass system checks and get us out of here!”
The computer consoles light up with the no-fly rule, but civilian ships like this aren’t hardwired to ground commands. She hits the override and slides into Abel’s chair, even as the Daedalus engines roar to life.
Ephraim walks in after her, clearly in a state of shock that this sight does nothing to dispel. “Whoa. This ship is pretty flash.”
“Thanks.” Noemi steadies her hands on the control, takes a deep breath, and sends them soaring upward. The domed viewscreen shows her the hangar, then the view from above it, and then Stronghold’s gray sky, darkening as they fast approach the rim of its thin atmosphere. “Planetary security forces—what are we up against?”
Ephraim seems to surface from his daze, stepping closer to the front of the bridge. “There are labor strikes on the high eastern continent. Most security forces are over there, and they’re not going to leave the authorities without cover, not so soon after a hundred thousand immigrants showed up. So we shouldn’t have more than one or two ships after us.”
That’s one or two more than the Daedalus can handle. Noemi begins trying to think of something else she could use against them. The rescue beacons won’t work again; the launcher doesn’t aim with enough precision for her to hit a moving target.
“Here they come,” Ephraim says.
Noemi switches the viewscreen to show two small ships—dual-person fighters, probably—coming up fast behind them. If she tries to flee, they’ll shoot her out of the sky long before she could reach either Gate.
No surrender, she thinks. Better to go down fighting. But does she have the right to make that choice for Ephraim?
On the screen, a third shape darts in, faster than the others.
Ephraim groans. “That makes three.”
“That’s not the same kind of ship,” Noemi says absently. She enlarges the image to show their pursuers in more detail. The two-person fighters are unremarkable, but the third ship, the interloper—a corsair—is it painted red?
Her console lights up with new information. Staring, she watches as the new ship aims first one beam, then another at the fighters. It’s not a weapon, though. Instead of blasting the fighters from the sky, the red corsair seems to have…
“Stolen their power?” Noemi whispers. But if the energy readings on her screen don’t lie, both of the fighters are now adrift on emergency backup only, while the corsair practically glows with new reserves.
Ephraim steps to her side, looking as confused as she feels. “Are we about to get our power stolen, too?” All Noemi can do is shrug.
But then her console lights up with an incoming audio message. She hesitates for one breath, then punches the controls to listen.
“Oh, come on!” Virginia Redbird’s voice crackles over the speaker. “That doesn’t even get me a thank you?”
By the time Noemi gets down to the landing bay, the air lock has already cycled through. The doors open to reveal Virginia in a skintight red flight suit that’s as impractical as it is sexy, her helmet under her arm. “Hiya. Long time no see,” she says, as casually as if she and Noemi had run into each other on the street. Then Virginia motions toward Ephraim, who walked down, too. “Hey, who’s the new guy?”
Noemi ignores this. “Virginia, what are you doing here? How did you even find us?”
“You assume I came looking for you? A little self-centered, don’t you think?” Virginia cocks her head, almost ridiculously pleased with herself. “Maybe I decided to take a ride around the galaxy on my own.”
There’s no time for any of this. Noemi folds her arms. “The Milky Way galaxy is about a hundred and twenty thousand light-years long. It contains approximately four hundred billion stars, about a hundred billion planets. Do you seriously think you can play running into us as a coincidence?”
If Abel were here, he’d recite the exact probabilities involved. With a jolt, she remembers her last sight of him lying unconscious in the Charlie’s grasp.
Virginia shrugs, like, What can you do? “Okay, okay. Turns out, when two mechs trash your secret hideout and chase a couple of fugitives around—setting off every security alarm, by the way—well, your hideout’s not so secret anymore.” She sighs. “They found all the equipment we borrowed and even our designer, um, smokes. Got myself suspended for a month with no pay, no communication home. Thankfully they thought you two had me hostage, and nobody’s missed the thermomagnetic device, otherwise I’d probably be in lockup.”
Noemi focuses on the thermomagnetic device. If nobody knows it’s been taken, nobody can figure out her plans. Protecting Genesis still matters to her more than anything else—but it’s no longer the only thing that matters. Abel does, too, and Ephraim, and Virginia herself. “Sorry we got you into trouble.”
“Are you kidding? That’s the most flash thing that ever happened to me, ever. We’re talking lifetime.” Virginia’s smile returns to her face. “Well, I already had my new ride, and a burning curiosity to know just where the most advanced mech in the galaxy was headed, so I took to the skies. Ludwig didn’t get caught, so he was able to dig into security files, get me some specs on your ship. Went to Kismet first—which, ew, so touristy. When that didn’t pan out, I figured I’d try here, and sure enough, as soon as I’m coming into Stronghold orbit, I see a ship taking off in a hell of a hurry, vehicles in pursuit, and the ship looks a whole lot like Ludwig’s specs. You think I wasn’t going to check that out? Now, seriously, who’s the new guy, and where’s Abel?”
Ephraim frowns. “What do you mean, the most advanced mech in the galaxy? Genesis doesn’t have any mechs.”
It’s Virginia’s turn to look lost. “Why are you talking about Genesis?”
Noemi braces herself. “You each have half of the story. Time to tell you the whole thing.”
“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Virginia says as she follows Noemi back toward the bridge. “Genesis—you guys—I don’t agree with what you’re doing. At all.”
“I’m not sure I do either, any longer,” Noemi confesses. “But I know I have to stop the Masada Run.”
Ephraim’s stuck on his own piece of new information. “Abel can’t be a mech. Nobody’s ever made one that smart. Even if it could be done, that would be illegal. But—he did manage to land the medtram on a speeding train. Huh. I spent all that time talking to a mech and never knew it? I gotta sit down.”
Noemi doesn’t blame him. She brings up the makeshift relativistic calendar Abel put together, the one that tells her how long before the Masada Run. It’s only another… six days. Not long. Not long at all.
But it’s long enough.
“We have to find Abel.” Noemi sits in the pilot’s seat, screwing up her courage. “The Queen and Charlie just—shut him down. In an instant. It was like a human taking a blaster bolt to the head.”
“Password fail-safe.” Virginia smirks, knowing and smug again. For an instant she reminds Noemi of Abel. “Has to be. Nothing else would deactivate a sophisticated mech that quickly.”
“Well, they did that to him, and shipped him back to Mansfield before Abel was ready to go. Then the Queen mech said something about Abel having to fulfill some purpose—take some ‘rightful place’—I don’t know. It sounds all wrong.”
“Let me see if I have this straight.” Ephraim starts counting points off on his fingers. “Burton Mansfield himself made Abel. According to you, Abel talks about the guy like he’s his father instead of his inventor. Mansfield is getting Abel back. I’m not seeing the problem here. I mean, won’t Abel be happy to be back home? Mansfield wanted him back so badly he sent mechs all around the galaxy looking for him, so he’s probably happy, too. Right?”
Noemi has to admit this makes some sense—but not enough. “Then why
did they have to knock Abel out to make it happen? Abel said he’d return home on his own. Soon, even. That wasn’t enough for them.”
Finally, Virginia grasps the seriousness of the situation. “Remember what I said on Cray? Abel’s design is way, way more complex than any mech I’ve ever seen. More than is legally allowed. Mansfield made him to do something pretty important.”
“Not important enough to actually tell Abel about it.” Noemi takes a deep breath before looking squarely at both Virginia and Ephraim. In her red flight suit and his medical scrubs and black jacket, they look as unalike as the worlds they come from. Never would Noemi have imagined she would meet two people so foreign to her, much less that she could come to trust them.
Least of all would she have imagined that she’d be willing to risk everything for the sake of a single mech. But here she is.
“I’m going after Abel,” she says. “Maybe he’s better off where he is. Maybe he’s delighted. But I have to know that for sure. He’s saved my life so many times, even when he didn’t have to, even when he thought I was going to destroy him. It wasn’t just his programming at work—it was Abel himself. The soul inside the machine. And I can’t abandon him without finding out whether he’s okay. If you guys want off this ship, then we’ll figure out how to make that happen. But if you’re willing to come with me, I could use the help. Abel could, too.”
After a few moments’ silence, Virginia says, “I think this is a really incredibly terrible plan. But there’s no way I’m letting you go on a joyride that good alone.”
“I also think this is a terrible plan.” Ephraim rubs tiredly at his eyes with one hand. “But since I’m now a wanted fugitive, I figure I’m along for the ride.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys.” But they’re not exactly wrong about her plan.
She’ll just have to come up with a better one.
Fear churning in her belly, Noemi lays in a new course. The mag engines flame into brilliant life behind them, powering them through the stars, directly toward the next Gate.
To save Abel, Noemi has to find Mansfield. And Mansfield is sure to be on the last world she ever wanted to visit, the one she’s feared and hated more than any other.
Time, at last, to land on Earth.
32
HEAVY CLOUDS BLANKET LONDON, PALE GRAY IN THE predawn hours. Abel’s hopper descends through them, and briefly he’s enveloped in mist before, at last, he sees the lights below.
London. He knows the street patterns, the landmarks, all of it; he superimposes his last known map with what he sees now in order to learn how it’s changed. None of that is as important, though, as the strange exhilaration of homecoming. He’d known humans became sentimentally attached to houses, cities, places that they remembered fondly—but had never realized he could do the same.
Abel never got to come home before.
The once-famed fogs of London have returned in the past century, as subtly dangerous as they were before. The hopper draws swirls in the vapor as it settles atop a tall, illuminated platform that stands over most of the city. Abel peers through one of the small round windows, his face briefly painted blue by the searchlights, to see that a welcome party is waiting.
He looks back once at the X-Ray model that took the journey with him. After delivering Mansfield’s recorded welcome message, it went dark, sat in its corner again, and hasn’t budged since. Its mute, unknowing bulk disconcerts Abel, though he can’t explain why.
The hopper’s door opens automatically, folding out to become a gangway. As Abel walks out, the Item model comes forward to greet him. Like all Item models, he appears to be an East Asian male approximately thirty-five years of age, with the slightly greater sharpness seen in advanced models. Items handle skilled labor, more sensitive tasks such as scientific experiments. They can make assessments; they can even be discreet. Their smiles look genuine, like this one’s does now. “Model One A. Professor Mansfield welcomes you back to Earth.”
Even the air has the particular smoky scent Abel associates with London. “It’s good to be here.” Better if he’d come by his own will—but he’ll put that right soon. “Where is Professor Mansfield?”
“At home, waiting for you.”
Home.
The geodesic dome still shines with the same warm glow. The house still looks like a silvery castle on a hill, and the fog around them could be an enchanter’s mist. Additional security measures have been added to the gate and door, but as soon as Abel steps inside, he is enveloped in comforting familiarity: the smell of wood polish and leather, the crackle of the holographic fire, the self-portrait of Frida Kahlo staring intently from its elaborate frame.
And then, finally, finally—seated on the long velvet sofa—
“Abel.” Professor Mansfield smiles up at him through teary eyes, and holds up his arms. “My pride and joy.”
“Father.” Like a prodigal son, Abel falls to his knees to embrace Mansfield tightly.
But not too tightly. The comforting sameness of the house only underlies how much Mansfield himself has changed. He is elderly now, his pale skin crinkled into folds. What’s left of his hair has gone completely white. His arms tremble even in the hug, and he has lost so much weight that Abel can feel his fragile bones through the thick robe. No wonder a Tare model hovers in the background, waiting and watchful. Mansfield’s vulnerability moves Abel even more.
After nearly a minute, Mansfield finally releases Abel. His smile, at least, is unchanged. “Now let me look at you.” Mansfield brushes back Abel’s gold hair, then frowns as he sees the small cut left from Abel’s fall. “Did that fool Queen do this? You can only add so much sense to a combat mech, it seems.”
“I fell. It’s not bad. But, about the Queen—did you order her to stand down as soon as I had been retrieved? Otherwise, she might go after my rescuer.”
Might have gone. By now, whatever has happened between the Queen and Noemi is long over, and Abel has no power to affect it. He can only find out what might have taken place. How afraid he needs to be.
“The Queen ought to stand down. Hasn’t reported to me, so I’m assuming she followed standard procedure.” Mansfield gestures toward the Tare, who quickly steps forward with a strip of skin sealant. Instead of letting her apply it, Mansfield takes the strip, smoothing it tenderly over Abel’s cut with his own shaky fingers. “She should’ve shipped you off and walked away. Assuming that upgrade I gave her didn’t jinx the works.”
“She deleted the upgrade,” Abel says. Maybe he should reveal why—that the Queen had felt both the temptation and terror of free will. But that conversation can take place at some other time. Other issues take precedence. “Absent specific orders, she wouldn’t have gone after Noemi. Good.”
“Noemi?” Mansfield raises an eyebrow. “This is the girl you were spotted with?”
“Yes, sir. Noemi Vidal.”
“From Genesis, I assume. Not likely anybody else could’ve found you.”
This is of course correct, but Abel doesn’t want to emphasize Noemi’s status as an enemy of Earth. He sticks to what really matters about her. “She boarded the Daedalus in an effort to save a fallen comrade, which failed. But in the process, she restored power and freed me from the equipment pod bay.”
And decided to destroy the Genesis Gate—this is what Abel should say next. But if he does so, he will only make trouble for Noemi. Nobody has asked him directly about her plans, so for the time being he can remain silent.
Mansfield’s gaze takes on a faraway look. “That’s where you were, wasn’t it? Jettisoning the hard data. You were trapped in there the whole time.” He shakes his head, visibly regretful. “So many wasted years. So many.”
“Not wasted.” Abel can hardly believe he’s saying this, but as hard as this truth is, he must admit it. “That time had value for me. While I was there, I had to review my data files over and over again. Come up with new connections, new things to think about. I slept more than strictly necessar
y. New neural connections began to form. I’m smarter than I used to be. I feel things more deeply. When I sleep now, sometimes I even dream.”
“Dream? You can dream?” Mansfield laughs in happy disbelief. “Dreaming! Are they just memories or true, bizarre, carnival-of-the-id dreams?”
Abel isn’t sure how to answer this. “Well, once I dreamed that you turned into a bear, and I had to carry you on my back into a Gothic cathedral.”
The laughter turns into a cackle. “Real dreams! Oh, my brilliant boy. My ultimate creation. You’ve exceeded my wildest hopes.”
These words bathe Abel in the simplest, most uncomplicated happiness he’s known in a long time. But even this glow doesn’t distract him from what’s most important. “Can you send word to Stronghold, to find out what’s happened to Noemi? She was in danger. We were helped by a doctor who wanted to protect us. We all made it to the hangar before the Queen and Charlie stopped us, and after that—I don’t know if she got off-planet, or was arrested. I would feel more at ease if I knew the outcome.”
This doesn’t produce the galvanizing effect Abel would’ve predicted. Mansfield sits back on the sofa, regarding Abel with amused pride. The Tiffany lamp behind him jewels its light into tangy orange and vivid green. “The girl got to her ship, didn’t she?”
“She should have been able to—”
“But what?”
“If she’s been arrested, you could see to her release.” Abel feels certain Mansfield has more than enough political influence for that. “If she’s free, but hasn’t yet returned to Genesis, maybe she could come here.”
“Would a Genesis soldier want to come here?”
It’s a fair question. And surely Noemi’s top priority will be obtaining a mech for her plan to destroy the Genesis Gate. Why should he have such an illogical need for her to visit Earth?
It doesn’t have to be a visit. Abel says, “I need to know that she’s safe and well. That’s all.”