by Claudia Gray
Sucking in a sharp breath, Noemi realizes what this might mean. “Is there any chance it is the Dove?”
“You know, I think it is?” Virginia laughs. “I guess the big battle showdown made it possible for a few Genesis ships to start wandering around the rest of the galaxy.”
At any other time, this would’ve been cause for Noemi to celebrate. Now, however, one question fills her mind: Should we let the Consortium turn the engine over to a Genesis ship before we know the whole truth about Bellum Sanctum?
She hurries down the long spiral corridor of the Persephone to the bridge. Not only is she shaken by her fears about the Bellum Sanctum device, but she’s also become unsteady again. Noemi had thought she was getting the hang of her new capabilities, but her hand and arm have started feeling twitchy. The invasive voice in her mind tells her things that aren’t as relevant to what she’s doing. Probably she’s just still tired, but is this what it’s going to be like every time she has to push herself to the limit? Her life involves a lot of that. A lot.
Abel must’ve gotten to the bridge right before her, because she walks in to see that he hasn’t yet taken his seat in the captain’s chair. On the viewscreen is an image of the ship that’s unquestionably the Dove.
“We need to talk,” Noemi says to Abel.
“Agreed.”
She stares at the Dove, which seems to be getting too close. That must be her paranoia at work, though. Surely. “I’ve had some thoughts about the Bellum Sanctum strategy—realized some things we have to find out—”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Abel looks completely confused.
Only then does she recall there’s another reason to avoid the Genesis authorities—
Communications snap on, signaling an incoming message from the Dove. The voice that comes over says, “Preliminary identification suggests this spacecraft is the independent ship Persephone. Do you deny this?”
Noemi glances at Abel, who looks even more uncertain than she feels. Replying is up to her. Slowly she says, “This is the Persephone.”
Abel straightens in his seat. Virginia turns toward them, realization washing over her, too.
“Remain in position,” snaps the voice from Genesis. “You are hereby ordered to stand down and surrender the mech designated Model One A, also known as Abel, to us.”
Noemi’s gut twists. “What for?”
From the speakers she hears, “Model One A is wanted for the murder of Elder Darius Akide.”
They know.
Noemi turns to look back at Abel, whose expression has turned grim. Quickly she silences the comms. “You can’t turn yourself in.”
“I have no intention of doing so,” Abel says, surprising her. His ability for self-sacrifice has a limit after all, and she’s glad of it.
But how do they get out of this one?
Dagmar Krall’s voice crackles over comms: “Whoa, whoa, Dove, we never discussed any of this during our negotiations—”
Whoever it is on the Dove snaps back, “None of the agreements between us and the Vagabond fleet allows you to shelter a known murderer and refuse to deliver that murderer to justice.”
“We gotta stall,” Virginia mutters, before turning comm audio back on. “Um, we have innocent civilians on this ship who are totally innocent and shouldn’t get blown up in deep space due to innocence. We’re in agreement on that, right?”
“Surrender Model One A,” says the implacable voice on the other line. At the edge of Noemi’s console, a flickering dot appears—the signal of whatever scout ship or starfighter the Dove has sent out to confront them. They aren’t waiting for the Persephone to approach and be processed in an orderly fashion. This is an arrest. If a vessel resists arrest of a crew member, the penalties can be severe.
Noemi’s pretty sure that the murder of a member of the Elder Council gets the worst penalty possible.
Virginia interjects, “Any chance of reasoning with these guys?”
“About the murder of an Elder?” Abel says crisply. “Highly unlikely.”
“We have to try.” Noemi grips her console, thinking hard. “It was self-defense. Genesis recognizes the right to self—”
“But it wasn’t self-defense.” Abel’s blue eyes meet hers evenly. “It might’ve been, in other circumstances—but I shot Akide purely because he had shot you.”
Sometimes Noemi wants to whack some sense into his thick metal skull. “Nobody has to know that, Abel!”
“Are you suggesting lying to a court of law?”
Is he going to try getting self-righteous on her? Noemi retorts, “We lie a lot, when we have to. I don’t see any reason to stop now.”
Virginia looks from one to the other, then back again, but keeps her mouth shut.
Nothing Noemi’s saying seems to be sinking in. Abel acts like she hasn’t even spoken, reopening the channel to the Genesis ship. “This is Model One A. I hereby confess to being the sole perpetrator of the murder of Elder Darius Akide. As one of my passengers previously indicated, there are innocent parties on board. Will you allow the others to leave this ship safely before you take any further action?”
A pause follows, but only briefly. “Confirmed. Innocent parties aboard the Persephone have five minutes to abandon ship. After that, they will be considered as aiding and abetting the crime of murder.”
“Oh, come on,” Virginia mutters, but she’s already rising to her feet.
Wait. That’s it? It’s over and done with? It’s like the floor dematerialized under Noemi’s feet. She doesn’t have anywhere to stand. All she can do is fall.
Without once glancing back, Abel heads for the door. “We have to get you both into Noemi’s starfighter,” he says. “It will be a crowded and uncomfortable trip, but the ship can safely transport the two of you.”
“This can’t be the only way,” Noemi protests—but Abel’s already walking off the bridge, and Virginia shrugs helplessly as she follows.
There’s nothing for Noemi to do but catch up.
She hurries to the docking bay and shoulders her way past the bulky Smasher. There sits her old starfighter, and Virginia is already easing her way into the cockpit. Though it will be a tight fit, the little ship will hold two.
When Abel turns to her, his face remains a porcelain mask. “You must board. We have only two minutes and fifty-one seconds to go.”
“Fifty point seven eight,” Noemi answers.
The corner of his mouth lifts in something that’s not quite a smile.
“It wasn’t a joke.” She has to ball her hands into fists to keep from shaking his shoulders. “It’s just what I know, because of my mech half—”
“Which I would advise against mentioning on Genesis,” he interjects.
Noemi ignores this. “—and it’s enough time to come up with another plan! Enough time for us to get away!”
Abel shakes his head. “That would only put you in danger. You’ve been endangered because of me too often. Last time, you almost didn’t survive.”
Fury sparks into flame inside her, a firestorm that robs her of reason or kindness. “So you’re going to make all the decisions for me. Like you did last time, when you turned me into something that isn’t even human! How come you’re the only one who gets to make decisions, Abel? You say you respect me, but somehow you’re the one making all the rules.”
He stares at her, obviously astonished. She expects him to be equally angry, or abashed, or possibly even ashamed. Instead, what she sees in his eyes is naked, vulnerable pain.
Quietly he says, “Not even human.”
Great. Now he thinks I don’t consider him the equal of a human anymore, and there’s no time to convince him otherwise. Genesis is coming, and they will fire to kill. Noemi might take her chances, but she can’t ask Virginia to take that chance with her.
She and Abel wasted the last minute they had to change their fates—even to say good-bye—on arguing.
“Okay,” Noemi says. Her voice is hoarse. �
�Time to go.”
Abel nods. His blue eyes are unfocused. The only time Noemi ever saw Abel so wounded was when he first realized Mansfield’s true plan for him. She’s hurt him as badly as Mansfield ever did.
They turn back to the cockpit of the starfighter. Virginia sits there, stiff and uncomfortable, clearly wishing she hadn’t overheard what she just overheard. Noemi allows herself to be loaded into the starfighter, where she has to tuck in awkwardly along Virginia’s side.
“Get away from the Dove,” Noemi says to Abel. “It doesn’t matter what else you do, okay? You only have to do one thing, and that’s stay alive and free.”
“I’d argue those are two things,” Abel answers. His voice is dull and flat. “But your point is well taken. Find another ship as soon as you can.”
There’s no time for her to share her worries about Bellum Sanctum. She’ll have to investigate that on her own.
Just before they seal the cockpit, Noemi says, “Abel?”
He’d been turning away, but he pauses. “Yes?”
She can only think of one thing, the one that matters more than anything else: “Please—please understand how I feel about you.”
Abel turns his face toward her then, and their eyes meet with an intensity she’s never felt before. They’re communicating soul to soul. None of the obstacles the galaxy has thrown between them have the power to change that.
He whispers, “I’m afraid I finally do.”
The cockpit cover slides over her and Virginia. Abel backs out just before the air lock tightens with a snap. Noemi closes her eyes as her starfighter bobs in zero-G, then zooms out into the emptiness of space. The Persephone becomes no more than a silver teardrop against the starry sky.
20
THE DOVE GAVE ABEL FIVE MINUTES TO GET NOEMI AND Virginia to safety. Their starfighter launches within three. But he doesn’t fool himself into believing he’s safe for the remaining two minutes.
As far as the Genesis ship is concerned, the only innocent people have abandoned the Persephone. No: the only people, period. Its crew has no reason not to fire on what Genesis considers an unmanned ship, one that contains a very deadly device—namely, Abel himself. He understands both that Dagmar Krall would like to help him, and that she’s not about to endanger her Consortium’s alliance with Genesis on the behalf of a single individual, no matter how rare or valuable she might consider him to be.
Abel runs up the spiral corridor to the bridge. He has to think of a way to evade the Dove long enough to—
—to what?
Abel is alone again, as alone as he was in that docking bay for thirty years. But this time, it’s worse. This time, he understands the meaning of camaraderie, friendship, even love. He thought he knew what it meant to be loved, but Noemi’s deepest feelings for him seem to have been no more than programming. All his hopes for the future have been demolished. Existence seems to have no meaning, if it must be endured without love.
But he refuses to give up. While Abel can’t fear death, he can and does want more life.
He wants to know how the Liberty War will end. Wants to find out what will happen with the masses emigrating to Haven, and whether the world behind the unfinished Gate will turn out to be as good or better. Eventually he’ll want to know how Harriet and Zayan are doing; they plan to have a child together in the future, a child he would be eager to see. Virginia will undoubtedly travel a path both chaotic and brilliant, one well worth witnessing. Circumstances might allow them to resume their friendship someday.
And Noemi—
No, he’ll never see her again. Never get the chance to love her, or be loved by her. But he might have the opportunity to hear of her—what adventures she’ll undertake, what future she might have.
It would be enough just to glimpse that future. To know she was happy. No matter what she thinks of him, Abel will always want that for her.
It’s reason enough to stay alive.
He dashes along the spiral corridor of the Persephone until he bursts onto the bridge. The viewscreen shows the starfighter slowly flying toward the Dove, on a course that is unnecessarily, but conveniently, between that fighter and the Persephone. As her farewell, Noemi’s doing her best to give Abel a chance to escape. That opportunity is all he needs.
He takes the helm, bringing the ship around and firing his newly repaired mag engines. They roar into full power, their flare shining through the energy-field walls to look like impossible fire in space. Then he heads out at full speed, aiming straight at the far-distant Cray Gate, all the way across the Kismet system.
Of course the Genesis ship pursues. The Persephone began its life as a research vessel, one designed for precision more than for speed. Whatever purpose the Dove was originally intended for, apparently it was one that required higher velocities. One glance at the console tells Abel that his pursuer will catch up with him in no more than eight minutes, seven seconds.
But his readings tell him that the Dove engines lack one capability the Persephone has just regained: Its engines can’t be switched into overload.
Abel does it. His well-repaired ship responds swiftly, smoothly, as though overload were no problem at all. As he rockets toward the Gate, he sees with satisfaction that the Dove is being left far behind.
But Noemi is being left behind, too, and so many of his own shattered hopes.
Abel decides to fly through the so-called Blind Gate—the surest way he knows to get away from it all.
Literally.
This Gate represents the worst-case scenario in humanity’s search for livable planets: A likely world was found, a Gate was built, and an excursion party came through in hopes that nothing major had changed and settlements could be established. Instead, they discovered that two of the planet’s moons had shattered, sending enormous, climate-destroying meteors crashing into its surface. Numerous new satellites, of irregular shape and orbit, render travel through this system dangerous. So humanity abandoned any hope of settling here.
Of course, some people do travel through the Blind Gate. It’s a terrible place to live but a very, very good place to hide. Occasionally smugglers come through, or other individuals who are strongly motivated to keep their location unknown. Abel came here himself once before—with Noemi, when they needed to hide from the rest of the galaxy and repair his ship, then called the Daedalus.
This is where he showed her his favorite movie, Casablanca. This is where he suggested making love—merely as a means of satisfying curiosity, or so he thought at the time. (Abel’s greater understanding of his developing subconscious suggests that his request may have had then-unseen dimensions.)
It may have been unwise to come to a location where so many memories would make me miss Noemi, he thinks.
Yet where else could he go? He and Noemi are the only two living individuals who’ve made landfall in every single system connected to the Loop. Memories of her linger on Earth (in the ancient cobblestoned streets of London), on Genesis (near the open-air market by the river), on Cray (talking about the importance of faith while sitting under strings of fairy lights), on Stronghold (pretending to be husband and wife so he could stay with her in the hospital), on Haven (finding each other within the glittering wreckage of the Osiris), and even on Kismet—if its lunar station counts.
There’s no escaping the memories. The entire galaxy is gilded with traces of Noemi Vidal, brighter in all the places she’s ever been. Abel decides he wouldn’t have it any other way.
After a full day of moody contemplation on a large asteroid, and one large collision coming closer than he would’ve liked, Abel makes plans to leave.
This raises the question of where, exactly, he should go. Now that Genesis ships are capable of traveling through the galaxy—even in limited numbers—he could be found and apprehended at any point. Unrest has spread throughout all the star systems of the Loop. It’s a dangerous time to be the lone crew member of a small free ship.
He finally determines that safety is not
to be found in a location. His best chance of it will be found in a group.
Dagmar Krall is betting heavily on the Kismet system representing a new seat of power after the Liberty War ends, and the new Gate has been built, Abel reasons. He hasn’t been gone for that long. Therefore at least part of the Vagabond fleet will still be stationed there.
She is allied with Genesis now—but being allied to a world does not always mean obeying that world. Krall strikes Abel as someone who does not obey easily.
He returns to the Kismet system without incident and, as predicted, finds the Vagabond fleet still in place at the far edges of the minefield. Ship sensors quickly pick up the signal for the Katara, which he immediately hails.
Anjuli Patil’s voice comes through comms: “Free ship Persephone, we didn’t expect to see you again so soon—maybe ever, after the way you took off. Good job with that, by the way!”
“The surprise at my return is mutual,” Abel says. “Please let Commodore Krall know that Abel, captain of the Persephone, has reconsidered her offer to join the Consortium. If it’s still open—I accept.”
He boards the Katara for what he expects to be a brief exchange of formalities with Dagmar Krall. But Krall’s lieutenants—including, especially, her wife—don’t want to leave it at that.
“We must have the tattoo!” Anjuli insists, holding Krall’s arm affectionately as they all stroll through one of the tall central corridors of the Katara. Consortium members of various ages and races bustle through, conducting minor trade with one another, greeting old friends. “Every new pilot in the Consortium gets one. It’s tradition.”
Krall gives her a look that’s equal parts warmth and exasperation. “It’s one thing to ask humans to carry marks on our skins for the rest of our lives. That’s another fifty or sixty years, tops. Abel can expect to be around, what—”
“Another two to three hundred years,” Abel says. “But if the tattoo is traditional, I have no objection.”
Anjuli’s dark eyes light up. “You see?”