Defy the Fates

by Claudia Gray

  Abel’s satisfaction feels as warm around Noemi as a blanket. —Excellent. Now, back to more pressing concerns.—

  Through the thin veil between them, she perceives Abel turning his attention to the ship’s communications. He uses their system to interfere with the messages between the ships around them. After 3.1 seconds, she realizes he’s amplifying and spreading the messages from ships angry with Dagmar Krall’s decision to hand Abel over, but blocking every one of the assistance calls from the ships that chose to attack them. He’s muffled the Katara, too. With Krall silenced at such a crucial time, will the thin edge of her authority become even thinner?

  Noemi figures, I guess this is how a mutiny begins.

  Then Abel switches, catching one of Krall’s messages and reflecting it back at every other ship in the vicinity. From a great distance, she hears Krall say, “The Katara commands every Consortium ship to stand down or be fired upon. You won’t be warned again. Halt fire.”

  Wait, Noemi thinks, I heard that. Like, with my ears—

  She startles back into the present, her awareness once again enclosed by her body. The abruptness of it catches her off guard, and Abel’s sudden absence feels harsh and cold. But she forces herself to focus on the viewscreen, where Dagmar Krall sits in her command chair looking thunderstruck.

  “Are you okay?” Harriet whispers to Noemi. “You zoned out for a couple minutes there.”

  Noemi gives her a quick nod before turning her attention to Krall, who’s still talking. “You have power over fighter mechs now? How is that possible?”

  It was Virginia who took over the fighter mechs, but Noemi doesn’t intend to point that out. “We can talk about that later. I’m more interested in the fact that you don’t seem to have power over your own Consortium any longer. How many ships broke ranks to attack? Looked like a lot of them.”

  “Apparently my people aren’t as willing to listen to me anymore. It seems clear that the challenge you’ve called will have to take place.” Krall tugs at the end of one loose lock of hair; the slight tremble in her hand is the only hint of how shaken she is. “I suppose it was inevitable that this issue might bring an end to our Consortium. It’s hard to let it go—but it existed to serve its people, not to force people to serve.”

  Against her will, Noemi is impressed. Dagmar Krall plans to surrender her power rather than do her followers wrong. That, or she’s putting on a really good show of stepping away with grace.

  Noemi flicks the control to send her own comm message out on all channels. “This is Noemi Vidal, temporarily in command of the free ship Persephone.” Abel’s still at work within the ship—more “in command” of it than any mere pilot ever could be—but that doesn’t concern Krall or the Consortium. “Commodore Krall, the purpose of this confrontation was never to force you out of power within the Consortium. That’s something for you guys to decide among yourselves, later.”

  Dagmar Krall stiffens, scowling like she’d bitten into a lemon. “Then what the hell is this about?”

  “This is about Bellum Sanctum. About Genesis’s endgame against Earth. We needed as many Vagabond ships as possible to hear this, and we especially wanted you to learn the truth,” Noemi says. She and Abel discussed this next question intensely without ever coming to a conclusion, so asking it feels like a gamble. “Commodore, did you know exactly how Genesis plans to attack Earth?”

  “Of course. It’s not something I can broadcast to the entire Consortium due to security concerns—as a former soldier of Genesis should know.” Dagmar Krall shrugs. “We expect them to deploy the strategy within days, and when that time comes, we’ll be by their side.”

  The real deadline is closer to hours away, but Noemi understands why Krall is being vague. “I know you intend to keep faith with Genesis,” Noemi says. “But Genesis hasn’t kept faith with you. Commodore, you have to understand what the engine is really going to be used for.”

  Space comms traffic in the area has fallen almost completely silent. Every Vagabond gathered nearby, regardless of where they stand on the question of Dagmar Krall, wants to know what’s about to unfold.

  Noemi takes a deep breath. “Genesis isn’t using that engine to power a massive communications breakdown. Instead, they’re using it to power a core disruptor. And they plan to use that core disruptor on Earth itself.”

  Krall goes so white that Noemi thinks the woman might pass out that instant. Although Noemi can’t hear the space chatter, the indicators go nuts, showing that everyone is trying to talk to everyone at once.

  But they’re still listening to Noemi, so she continues, “I have this information directly from my former captain. She has top military clearance; she’s in a position to know the strategy, and I believe her. As a soldier of Genesis, I can’t condone this. The Liberty War has always been fought to preserve the best of what Genesis is and can be. This weapon desecrates all of that. As far as I’m concerned, destroying Earth isn’t that different from destroying Genesis itself. I have to stop this from happening, and I need your help.”

  Silence lingers for a moment over channels; Krall is speaking quickly to her wife off audio, and probably every other ship’s bridge is in turmoil. When Noemi meets Zayan’s eyes, she’s surprised to see he’s tearing up. He’s known the truth about Bellum Sanctum for a while, but apparently that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. “I have family on Earth, you know,” he says shakily. “Most Vagabonds do.”

  Finally, Krall cuts her audio channel back on. “If I’d had any idea this was the plan—that this was even possible—I would never have assisted in the Bellum Sanctum strategy for a second, and neither would any other ship of my Consortium.”

  Silently Noemi notes that Dagmar Krall seems to have taken her authority back. “The people of Genesis have been kept in the dark, too. This is the Council’s plan, and it has to be stopped.”

  A male voice from another Vagabond ship calls, “How do we do that? It’s not like we can shoot down a core disruptor! Those things are well-nigh indestructible.”

  Noemi nods. “Right, we can’t shoot them down. But we’re the ones who powered up the engine for the core disruptor. We have to shut it down again. Only a mech could do it, and the only mech we’ve got is Abel.”

  “You mean, the only mech we had, until I turned him over to Genesis,” Krall says heavily.

  BY THE WAY, say Abel’s large words on the viewscreen—words only she and the others on the Persephone bridge can see—THIS SEEMS LIKE A GOOD TIME TO MENTION THAT I’M STILL ALIVE.

  Noemi smiles at the viewscreen—and by extension, the other hundreds of ships watching this. “We can still save Abel, which means Abel can still save Earth.”

  Krall doesn’t hesitate. “Tell me how.”

  We have our allies, Noemi thinks. Now we’re going to need a hell of a lot of luck.

  34

  FOR A WHILE, ABEL SIMPLY ALLOWS HIS CONSCIOUSNESS to drift in the communications fields of the Persephone. It’s interesting to take in all the information as it flows past him, and the plan Noemi and Krall have come up with is a solid one. He has no more need to interfere. He can simply listen as the commanders make plans for the next battle.

  “We haven’t yet seen any signs that Earth is aware of the Bellum Sanctum strategy,” Krall says, “or that they’ve listened to the warning messages you sent.”

  “Just great,” Noemi says with a sigh. “Typical Earthers, refusing to listen to anyone else, even when that anyone is trying to save all their lives.”

  Upon reviewing the messages Noemi sent to Earth, Abel isn’t surprised their government hasn’t reacted. Her messages were lucid and compelling—but she had to send them into the void. Neither Noemi nor anyone else on the Apollo Acestor had any solid information about how to contact Earth’s military command. They took the only logical step and sent data packets to most of Earth’s major satellites. At least some of those satellites would’ve belonged to Earth’s government…

  …but the data collected
would’ve been reviewed by George models. Georges are relatively intelligent, as standard mechs go, but they do not have imagination. They do not take initiative. They wouldn’t have had any idea how to handle a message as unusual and radical as Noemi’s warning.

  Probably the Georges deleted the messages as corrupted files.

  Dagmar Krall seems more optimistic than Noemi looks, or than Abel feels. “It’s possible they’re taking defensive steps, only ones that we can’t monitor from space.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Noemi says. “We can’t assume Earth could stop Bellum Sanctum. So our plans don’t change.”

  With a nod, Krall replies, “Then let’s get back to the plan to retrieve Abel. My ships will escort you guys to the Haven surface in case Gillian Shearer has some other tricks up her sleeve. Just get Abel back here in one piece, as fast as possible, okay?”

  Noemi smiles tiredly. “I intend to.”

  Abel begins steering the Persephone away from the Haven Gate, back toward the planet itself. Their mission no longer requires extreme levels of steering precision, which means his current berth within the AI of the Persephone itself is no longer as useful. He prepares to transfer his consciousness back into its former, more human-shaped receptacle, the better to carry out their strike against the Winter Castle.

  He’s getting ready to smash.

  They run into no resistance on their way to the surface. Gillian Shearer is running low on mechs; by now she must be saving them for last-ditch defense within the Winter Castle itself.

  That means they’ll have to deal with those mechs eventually—but not yet.

  Noemi and Abel reunite with Ephraim at the field hospital, still the closest they can safely get to the Winter Castle without being fired upon from within.

  (Abel speculates that Mansfield might well be willing to fire on the hospital, but believes that if he does so, the residents within the Winter Castle will rebel. Already, Delphine and a few others have fled. Besides, if there were not discontent in the ranks, both Mansfield and Gillian would’ve taken far more ruthless steps before now.)

  When he speculates as much, Delphine agrees. By now she’s over the shock of finding Abel in a brand-new body, and seems to be adjusting to her new role at the hospital. She’s even been given a pair of medical scrubs, of which she seems very proud. “Most of us were desperate while we were stuck on the Osiris—shaken up by the crash, you know? As soon as we were in the Winter Castle, though, people started acting like people again. Those of us who left had help from some others who weren’t ready to leave yet, but they weren’t happy there either.”

  Noemi scowls. “You guys were ready to abandon people on Earth who needed another world to live on, but then you had to deal with a few hard rules and all of a sudden everybody cares?”

  “It wasn’t like that!” Delphine protests, then adds, in a quieter voice, “Mostly it wasn’t.”

  In the tinny voice he has as a Smasher, Abel says, “Self-preservation is a basic human instinct, Noemi. It is natural to react more strongly to harm to one’s self than to others. There is an old saying: ‘Comedy is when you fall down the stairs. Tragedy is when I stub my toe.’”

  “Ha, ha,” Noemi says, straight-faced. “These people aren’t worried about anything but saving their own skins.”

  Abel tries again, “One of this mission’s core objectives is saving my skin, in an extremely literal sense. Am I being selfish?”

  “No, of course not!” Noemi protests. “That’s also about saving planet Earth!”

  “Do you mean you wouldn’t help me attempt to recover my body if it didn’t serve a greater good?” Abel trusts he’s said enough to make his point.

  He must have, because Noemi sighs deeply. “Okay.” Instantly she’s back in strategy mode. “Harriet and Zayan are staying put on the Persephone so we can evacuate quickly. Ephraim, are you sure you’re willing to go back in the Castle?”

  “Of course.” Even through the grainy vision of a Smasher, Abel can tell that Ephraim Dunaway looks exhausted. He must’ve been working with patients nearly nonstop. “I remember the internal layout well enough. I can provide you with some cover.”

  Delphine steps forward. Despite her small size and high-pitched voice, she sounds startlingly authoritative. “Ephraim should stay here. The patients need him, and besides, he’s not the best person to go.”

  “I understand,” Noemi replies, “but we need to cover as much ground as possible inside the Win—”

  “Right, I understand, you want at least three people to go in.” Delphine begins slipping on a hyperwarm jacket almost absurdly too large for her. “Ephraim can stay here, because I’m your third.”

  For once Noemi appears to be at a loss for words. Abel ventures, “You almost certainly have no experience in covert operations.”

  This earns him a sharp look from Delphine. “Of course I don’t. What I do have is plenty of experience walking around the Winter Castle. I know the layout better than any of you. If you want a comprehensive search, I can help you more than Ephraim could.”

  With a frown, Ephraim says, “Do you know how to handle a blaster?”

  “About as well as you do, unless there’s a weapons training course in med school I don’t know about,” Delphine retorts. Ephraim has no reply.

  Noemi finally says, “There’s real risk involved with going inside. I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  Delphine shakes her head. “I have family back on Earth, too, you know. They were supposed to evacuate to Kismet in a year or two, I thought—it seemed okay to leave on the Osiris. And now their lives are in danger while I’m half a galaxy away.” Her voice trembles. “You know I’m the best guide inside the Winter Castle you could ever find. Please let me help.”

  “Okay, then. Me, Abel, and Delphine.” Noemi claps her hands together, the sound muffled by her gloves. “Let’s get started.”

  As they turn to go, Delphine begins giving Ephraim some datareads with patient info. Abel pauses, looking down at Noemi. She appears even more fragile to him now, compared to the enormous body he currently inhabits. This plan puts her at risk, something he has learned to grudgingly accept but will never endure easily.

  Abel reaches out to touch her shoulder; his enormous claw bumps her hard enough for her to stumble to one side. He pulls his hand back. “I’m sorry.”

  “Wait.” Noemi grabs the claw, then holds up her hand, her fingers splayed wide. Abel copies the gesture, unfolding the enormous claw hand that spreads more than twice as wide as her body. She presses her palm against the very center, and they stand there like that, their bodies mirrored despite their differences. Her dark eyes look up at him with such uncertain hope—passion mingled with despair—an expression he’s never seen her wear before, and yet he recognizes it.

  It’s the same expression Ingrid Bergman wears at the end of Casablanca.

  Abel knows there’s only one thing to say: “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

  No Vagabonds on Haven’s surface need to risk themselves to provide cover this time. The handful of Consortium ships descending through the atmosphere do the trick nicely.

  As Abel had anticipated, Mansfield doesn’t send out another mech patrol. Their past military skirmishes plus Virginia’s clever stunt have taken the Winter Castle’s mech supply to a bare minimum. (No doubt Gillian is busily creating more mechs—but even for a great cyberneticist, that process takes several weeks.) However, automated probes are soon sent up from the Winter Castle, probably to scan the incoming ships, which means the nearest towers of the castle have ports that slide open to launch.

  In his current physical form, Abel can easily scale the outer wall to reach the probes’ launch point. As soon as the probes have fired, he clambers up, clamps his hand around the rim to keep the launch point from closing, and says, “Your turn.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Delphine sounds somewhat shaken—but then, being towed seventy meters up a wall while strapped to the back of a giant robot must be a
startling experience. “Help me over.”

  Noemi has already climbed over his back to hop inside, and she puts out a hand to guide Delphine through. They both skitter backward as Abel enters. His broad “shoulders” knock away some of the launch point’s frame, but otherwise the maneuver is not difficult.

  “Our job,” Noemi says to Delphine through a cloud of plaster dust from the rubble, “is to draw attention. Maybe you can also gain us some allies, if you get a chance to tell them about the danger to Earth—but our only real goal is to keep anybody inside the Winter Castle from realizing what Abel’s up to, until it’s too late for them to do anything about it.”

  Delphine is clearly nervous, but she nods. “I say we start by pulling some fire alarms. And power surge alarms. Intruder alarms—but then they’ll know they have intruders—but not if we pull the others first, maybe?”

  Noemi shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter, as long as their mechs head in the wrong direction.” She looks up at Abel. “Be careful.”

  “Caution can’t help us here,” he replies. “But I’ll do my best to stay alive.”

  She half laughs, the way humans do when they think otherwise they might cry. “That’ll do.”

  For one moment, Noemi touches her hand to his again—then she nods at Delphine and leads her out into the corridors. Abel waits for 81.4 seconds until the first, distant alarm sounds.

  Now. He lumbers out into what is clearly another auxiliary area, containing weapons, scientific equipment, and the like. Abel doesn’t bother attempting to destroy any of it. He’s not here to strike at the arms of the Winter Castle. He’s here to attack the heart.

  His heavy feet clank against the floors as he works his way deeper inside. Finally he comes to a yellow-striped door that marks the boundary to the innermost chambers.

  The door looks small. Rather than try to open it, Abel simply bursts through.

  He’s greeted by another fog of plaster dust and a chorus of screams. The Smasher’s black-and-white visual reveals an elegant atrium, one with windows stretching up into the Castle’s highest central spires and staircases leading fifty meters down to ground level. Several Osiris passengers are milling around—this must be a popular gathering place—though they appear not to be partying or feasting, just huddling together in conversational groups. The only mech in sight is a Yoke wandering around with a tray of beverages. Her programming has no intruder protocols, so she continues her work without glancing in Abel’s direction.