“That nose is kinda superhuman if you ask me,” Virginia says. “I know you’re too objective to take offense at this, Abel, but you’ve got a considerable schnoz there.”
“Just like my creator’s.” Mansfield’s features live on within Abel’s.
Tangaroa looks up at Virginia, then at Noemi, then at Ephraim, with new interest. “Are you mechs, too?”
“Nope,” Ephraim says. “One hundred percent human. But I’m from another planet. Have you ever heard of Stronghold?” Tangaroa nods eagerly. His class must be studying the other worlds of the Loop in school.
“We’re from Earth,” Harriet chimes in, taking Zayan’s hand. “But we live as Vagabonds and travel all over the galaxy.”
“Me, I’m from Cray.” Then Virginia frowns. “I mean, I’m from Earth originally, but I’ve lived on Cray most of my life.”
A woman a few years older than Noemi hesitantly asks, “Is Cray really just one big supercomputer?”
“Mostly!” Virginia agrees with cheer.
Then the few people by the river are all congregating in this one spot, wanting to hear more about Cray and Stronghold and everywhere else in the greater galaxy. Ephraim gets caught up in describing his world’s deep mines, while Virginia clearly enjoys talking about the Razers’ secret lab. It’s Abel himself who explains the newly discovered world, Haven, with its blue pine trees and clouds of bats, and what may be happening there even now. Surely not all the listeners gathered near have fully accepted Abel as a person like themselves… but he sees signs that such acceptance could be possible. A few Remedy members have also begun to mingle with the group, and he’s aware that Vagabonds have put in at ports across the planet. Genesis is still too battered to look far into the future, and the threat posed by Earth is very real—but already he can determine that the planet will never be as closed off again. Other humans will find their way here; they’ll shape Genesis and be shaped by it.
Could that be true for someone who isn’t human?
Abel looks over at Noemi, who’s forgotten her sadness. He’s been summoned to a meeting that night to answer questions, but now he can ask one of his own.
Maybe his future isn’t out among the stars. Maybe it could be right here.
Darius Akide’s offices are ventilated with natural breezes and illuminated primarily by sunlight. The economy of it is something Abel expected; the beauty of it surprises him.
When he says as much, Akide shakes his head. “That’s one of the differences between mechs and humans. Where you see efficiency, we’re capable of seeing something more.”
Abel takes no offense. As he knows from his initial journey with Noemi, humans require time to fully accept him. “Upon consideration, it makes sense. Even in pure mathematics, the equations that appear ‘beautiful’ are most likely to be true. Beauty is not only a perception; it’s also an indication of simplicity and strength.”
That makes Akide blink, but he says nothing. His eyes narrow as he studies Abel from behind his desk. This allows Abel to study Akide in return. The images of this man in his memory banks are of him in his early twenties, when he was Burton Mansfield’s protégé and friend. One holo showed Akide holding Gillian when she was only four months old. Some of Darius Akide’s theories are woven into Abel’s deepest programming and structures. Perhaps he should feel reverence, meeting someone who is in effect his co-creator.
He does not. Mansfield reserved that reverence—the devotion dictated by Directive One—for himself.
So Abel sees an ordinary human male in late middle age, of African descent and average height (impossible to gauge precisely while the man is sitting). Akide shows signs of recent illness: bloodshot eyes, ashy skin, and slowed reaction time. Yet he has resumed his post, helping to lead a planet in great peril. This is a sign of either great fortitude or great egocentricity.
“According to Vidal’s report, Gilly managed to store her son’s consciousness and transplant it into another mech.” Akide steeples his hands. “One with even more organic components than you have yourself.”
“The transfer wasn’t entirely successful, but it’s impossible to say whether the process is fundamentally flawed, or whether failure was due to premature execution.” He then deliberately uses the same nickname Akide did. This is a connection they share. “Gilly certainly believes herself to have copies of both her son’s consciousness and her father’s. Had she been able to capture me, she would have attempted to transfer Mansfield’s into my body. Given that I am both intact and functioning excellently, complete transfer might well have succeeded.”
Akide shakes his head. “Thank God the Osiris crashed. Their work could’ve proved monstrous. At least it’s been destroyed.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain. They had extensive plans to expand their work on Haven. The so-called Winter Castle may very well have mech labs she’ll be able to use to further her research.” Abel finds the idea of organic mechs highly interesting—something he’d like to investigate himself, for his own purposes—but senses this is unlikely to be a feeling Akide shares.
“Any data you can provide on these plans will be welcome,” Akide says, as if inputting a command into a basic computer. “Visual images, if you can re-create them. I’ll want to research this in much more depth once we’ve made it through this crisis.”
The Vagabond fleet remains assembled above. It has been less than three days since Earth learned of that fleet’s existence and its journey to the Genesis system—and since the galaxy learned of Earth’s deception. Given the amount of time necessary for bureaucratic decision-making and military mobilization, Abel puts the likelihood of a major military operation within the next two days at 81.8 percent.
However, unlike humans, he can be aware of impending danger yet continue to focus on other subjects. “I wished to ask—will any of those who have come to defend Genesis be allowed to remain here?”
Akide nods absently. “The Council has had a preliminary talk. Some form of citizenship for the Vagabonds fighting for us… that may be appropriate. Of course they would have to follow our core philosophies, and we’ll come up with forms for citizenship, but I imagine most of them will consider that a fair trade for a true home.”
Harriet and Zayan might be able to have a place to call their own. Ephraim might choose to open a clinic here. Virginia—no, Virginia is happy on Cray and will certainly return. But even Abel’s selflessness functions can’t outweigh one core thought: He can stay with Noemi. “I would wish to apply.”
“You?” Akide sits upright, startled back into the present. The surprise on his face slowly shifts into disdain. “You are… a piece of machinery. One built to serve humans, and a kind of machine we have no use for here on Genesis. Mechs are forbidden here, for good reason. Vidal may be caught up in her fanciful notions about your ‘soul,’ but no one else is likely to make the same mistake. I’m sure when you process this through your programming, it will make sense to you.”
Abel is still not accepted. He is still less than. Genesis cannot be his home.
Later that night, when Noemi joins him aboard the Persephone, her outrage eclipses his hurt. “Akide said that to you? After what you’ve done for this entire planet? It’s so—ungrateful, so mean—”
“It is a logical extension of his worldview,” Abel says. “It’s not a tragedy, Noemi. I will resume the existence I had before, as a Vagabond. It’s a way of life I enjoy. Granted, if Harriet and Zayan stay here, I’ll have to hire a new crew, but I’m confident other good people can be found.” So many Vagabonds need homes, and as his friends have told him many times, he pays well.
Noemi stands on the other side of the bridge, suddenly awkward. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, then says, “So—you’re hiring?”
Fresh hope floods Abel’s mental processes as powerfully as excess voltage. It’s a state of mind he’s rarely experienced to such a degree. Not since the first time he saw Noemi in her starfighter, flying closer to his ship, about to set him free
from three decades’ confinement—
Maybe they’re about to set each other free. “You would leave Genesis?”
She hugs herself; obviously she’s thinking this through at the same moment she says it. “I can’t protect my world in the military anymore. I’ve brought them medicines and allies—I don’t know that there’s anything more I could ever do. And nobody here’s going to miss me that much.” Her smile is crooked. “Maybe we both need a new Directive One, huh?”
Abel nods as he takes a step closer to her. “We can explore the galaxy together.”
“Figure out what we want. Where we want to go. What to fight for.”
She takes one more step—then bounds into Abel’s arms, which are already open and waiting. He swings her around, a human gesture he wouldn’t have thought he was programmed with, and hugs her tightly. Noemi laughs out loud with joy, and everything seems possible—
And that’s when the ship’s communications begin to shriek, an automated siren he’s never heard before.
Noemi’s face goes white as she slides from Abel’s embrace. “That’s the call to arms.”
Earth’s attack has finally come.
33
NOEMI RUNS TO THE NEAREST COMM PANEL AND SWITCHES to full audio reception in time to hear: “—near the Gate suggests imminent intrusion. All military personnel are ordered to combat positions.” But the true horror comes with the next words: “All civilians should proceed immediately to designated shelters.”
Stricken, she turns to Abel. “They don’t do that. Ordering people to shelters, I mean—we’ve fought only in space for years and years now. It’s been decades since they attacked us here, at home.” Earth never wanted to mess up Genesis too much; they wanted to claim a prosperous planet, not a demolished one.
“As you predicted, the revelation of Haven has forced Earth’s hand. Instead of admitting guilt and dealing openly with its citizens, they’re trying to win a victory that could eclipse their own wrongdoing.”
She thumps her fist against the wall, overcome with fury at Earth but most of all at herself. “I shouldn’t have said a thing about Haven until after we’d distributed the cure and Genesis was back to normal. While Earth thought we were helpless, they weren’t in any rush to—oh, God, what were we thinking?”
“We made the best decision we could based on the information we had. We couldn’t have predicted Earth would be petty enough to attack while vulnerable to unrest at home, out of what appears to be spite.”
Is that really all this is? Earth’s pettiness? Doesn’t matter. “I’ve got to get to one of the exosuits.”
Abel puts one hand on her shoulder. “Noemi—you’re not a military officer any longer.”
“Do you think I’d ever forget that? But if Genesis is in danger, I have to fight. If they want to reprimand me, they can do it later.” She thinks fast. “How much work have you and Virginia done on the corsair? Enough?”
“It can fly,” Abel says slowly, “but it’s not a starfighter.”
“It has the ability to disrupt enemy ship signals. That’s enough.”
She runs from the bridge down the long spiral corridor of the Persephone. Abel’s footsteps thump behind her, but she wouldn’t look back for him even if she could. It’s like he said before: This is still her Directive One. Protect her world.
Time to come up with a new Directive One later.
When she reaches the launching bay, the exosuits are waiting. She steps in, puts her arms through the sleeves, and starts pulling it tighter around the shoulders. Abel stops in front of her. The fear in his eyes reminds her of the moment he saw her as Mansfield’s captive. “Don’t be scared,” she says.
“Your life will be in danger. Fear is a natural response.”
“Haven’t you been paying attention? My life is always in danger.”
Her joke doesn’t break the tension. Maybe Abel’s emotions don’t work that way. “We could take the Persephone into battle together, instead.”
“It’s even more useless in combat than the corsair.”
“But I had a thought that—”
He falls silent when Noemi takes his face in her hands. “Abel, I have to do this. You know why. You know better than anyone else. Please don’t try to hold me back. Help me.”
Abel remains still and silent for what feels like a long time but can only be a second. Then he zips up her exosuit for her. As the seams automatically seal, he leans his forehead against Noemi’s. He says only, “Come back to me.”
“I will. If I can I will.” That’s the best promise she can make on the verge of combat, and they both know it.
Together they turn their attention to the battered corsair. As Virginia-ordered penance, Abel’s been repairing some of the damage during the hours the rest of them spend sleeping. A human might’ve done the cosmetic work first, repainting the blackened hull scarlet or polishing the sheen on the fins. Abel’s more rational process has led him to restore primary functions. Noemi slides into the seat and activates the engine to check operations. She’s low on fuel, but she can get to the Gate and back with a margin to spare. The cockpit is again airtight. There’s no reason not to take this ship back into space.
Aside from the fact that Virginia will for sure kill her… but Noemi can deal with that later.
Abel reaches into one panel, performing some last-minute tweak that sharpens her navigational sensors to almost-normal levels. “If you can wait another ten minutes, I could—”
“No. I have to get up there.” That’s not her usual impatience talking; it’s her military training. The soldier she so recently was still lives inside her skin, and knows this battle has to take place as far from Genesis as possible. Every minute she waits is another five thousand kilometers Earth’s forces can travel.
He doesn’t protest any longer. Instead he pulls her close and kisses her for a long, sweet time. She winds her fingers through his hair, her entire body responding. Her mouth is learning how he kisses; her breaths fall into tempo with his. She knows him in her very skin.
The kiss breaks. Abel repeats, “Come back to me.” All Noemi can do is nod.
She punches the controls, and the cockpit slides shut. Abel walks backward a few steps as the landing bay door slides open. The cool meadow breezes from outside ruffle his dark gold hair. She stares at him, memorizing every last detail, until the go light flashes on her control panel.
After that, there’s no time for anything but the fight.
34
ABEL SUSPECTS NOEMI WOULD’VE PREFERRED TO HAVE been told that he intends to fly into battle, too. If she objects later, he’ll point out that he did mention the possibility of the Persephone going into combat….
That won’t be the full truth, so he rejects that option. Noemi is more than his friend now; he wishes for her to be the other half of his life. Dishonesty between them is inadvisable on every level. She’ll rage at him, but ultimately she’ll understand. He could no more leave Noemi to go into battle unprotected than she could fail to defend her world.
He takes off immediately, setting course for the Gate. The scene that unfolds on the vast domed viewscreen reveals a battle of such staggering size as Abel has never seen. Earth has sent through twelve Damocles ships, which he reckons to be more than half the Damocles ships in their entire fleet. The rebellious planets of Kismet and Stronghold will soon realize they’re unguarded. This can only be Earth’s final invasion assault.
But Genesis is ready for them.
The Vagabond fleet is assembling itself—haphazardly, in the way of a group of ships never asked to work together before. Still, they’re flying into action, every burst of blaster fire proof of the colony worlds’ pent-up fury at Earth. He sees the Katara in the heart of the action, all weapons firing, Dagmar Krall proving herself again as a leader. A few medical vessels, courtesy of Remedy, hover nearby to treat the wounded—of which there will be many.
Genesis has sent its ships up, too, though they are less impressive. The
age of the vessels is dispiriting, as is their relative state of disrepair. But then one of the older ships fires, hitting a Damocles and rupturing a solid fourth of its hull. Abel reminds himself, Old is not the same as weak.
Amid green streaks of blaster bolts and the large lumbering ships, he sees his fellow mechs in their star-shaped exosuits emerging from the Damocles ships to attack everyone fighting for Genesis. Queens and Charlies one and all, the mechs fling themselves into the best tactical positions, even if it means they’ll be blown to shards within seconds. They risk themselves without fear. They can kill without guilt and be killed without guilt.
But Abel thinks there might be another way to use them.
There was no time for him to teach Simon Shearer what he needed to know; however, Simon may have been able to teach Abel something.
He brings the Persephone in closer to the battle, until the starfighters and mechs are crisscrossing the space around him in every direction. No Queen or Charlie will pay much attention to an unarmed civilian vessel unless it makes overly hostile moves. Remaining motionless is dangerous mostly because stray weapons fire could hit him. The shields are at full power, which will have to be sufficient protection. Abel’s going to need all his concentration for what he does next.
Simon told Abel that he controlled other mechs by being more machine than human. This is strange to Abel, who’s worked so hard to explore his human side. Letting himself be wholly a machine—it would be the equivalent of telling humans to jump off a cliff, trusting that a force field would catch them. All their faith in the force field wouldn’t make that jump easy. He doesn’t want to surrender his human self, even for an hour.
His memories of Haven crystallize, and he sees the broken, battered mechs attacking him in concert, as if they were the limbs of a single organism. Simon learned how to control them as if they were an extension of his mind. The opportunity before Abel is immense.