Defy the Fates

by Claudia Gray

  (There were times he contemplated that, during his three decades trapped in the equipment pod bay. His programming doesn’t allow for suicide except in response to certain directives, but it also ensures he’s not afraid of death. So he had always been calm and curious as he wondered whether it would be better to die swiftly in the paralyzing cold, or be alone in the dark for another two or three centuries. As he never came to a final conclusion, he remained in the docking bay, reasoning that he could choose to exit the Persephone and end his life at any time, but once he’d done so, there would’ve been no turning back.)

  He won’t find out today. Although damage indicators light up the command consoles, none of that damage is critical. The shuttle is therefore all but guaranteed to be unharmed—but he doesn’t trust his understanding of probabilities, sometimes, when it comes to Noemi. Instead, he brings the viewscreen back up and switches to rear cameras to see the shuttle for himself. Its hull remains completely intact.

  As he watches, Noemi pushes herself up through the top hatch, zooming upward in space for only as long as it takes her to activate her exosuit’s thrusters, which send her soaring back to the Persephone. Back to Abel.

  Back home, he thinks.

  Abel initiates the repair operations the ship can perform itself, then hurries down to the docking bay to welcome Noemi home—and Virginia, who appears to be only slightly behind her. (Krall’s team takes their craft back to the Katara, which is somewhat disappointing for Abel; he’s never had true guests before. But this is unimportant.) By the time he arrives, the air lock is already cycling. The moment the door releases, he opens it to see both Noemi and Virginia taking off their exosuit helmets. “Welcome back,” he says.

  Noemi steps through the door first, apparently unruffled. When she sees Abel, she grins. “Nice catch.”

  “I knew where you’d be.”

  Abel means it only as a statement of fact, but she gives him the kind of smile often described as melting. Only now does he realize the idiom refers not to the smile, but to the emotion inside the one who sees it. “You always do,” Noemi says. “And I knew you’d be there. I knew I’d be with you again.” She embraces him—only briefly, but it makes him long to kiss her again. Not once, but over and over, the way they did when they were cuddled together in the bunk.

  Soon, maybe.

  Virginia looks more shaken, but she’s already thinking of next steps. “So, Damocles destroyed means we’re okay—”

  “For now,” Noemi interjects. “But we need to get this engine to Genesis forces right away. Every minute we wait is another minute Earth might send forces against us, or worse, recognize the Bellum Sanctum strategy.”

  “Hey, just had a potentially disturbing thought, as is my wont.” Virginia sits down heavily and begins removing her boots. “Are we sure Dagmar’s telling us the truth about Bellum Sanctum? Or did she just send us to pick up a big engine for her?”

  “It would be tactically unwise and unlikely for the Krall Consortium to lie about the Bellum Sanctum only to obtain this engine,” he says. “A machine of such size and power has few uses, none of which would be valuable in ordinary Vagabond work.”

  “Besides, they wouldn’t even have known about the ‘Bellum Sanctum’ plan if they weren’t working pretty closely with Genesis leaders,” Noemi says. “So now we send this engine on its way to Genesis, and we find out how this war ends.”

  Three hours later, while the ship’s systems run through another set of diagnostics to confirm their repairs, Abel sits alone in the docking bay.

  Almost alone, he should say. He is kept company by the Smasher, which sits on the floor, patiently allowing him to tinker with its AI. Its awareness is, of course, only a fragment of what a normal mech’s would be, much less a human’s or Abel’s own, but there’s enough there for the work to feel… companionable.

  Gillian Shearer had imperfectly installed Tether technology within Abel. Therefore, he’d decided to try installing that tech within the Smasher, to see if he could figure out where she’d gone wrong—the better to activate Tether abilities for himself. (Having escaped Gillian’s clutches for good, he sees no reason not to update.) The flaw in her installation turned out to be minor—more an activation problem than anything else—which means he’s already fully outfitted both the Smasher and himself.

  So now he’s indulging his curiosity, tinkering to see how much he might be able to develop the intelligence of lower-level robots. Currently he’s installing significant enhancements to the Smasher’s memory. To the best of Abel’s knowledge, no one has ever done this before.

  That’s because there is no need for an intelligent Smasher. But Abel considers curiosity to be adequate motivation.

  Besides, he’s waiting for a visitor to the ship—one who announced herself twenty-nine minutes, point oh three seconds ago. Abel finds himself intrigued by the novelty. At last, a guest.

  When the docking signal finally comes, he swiftly wraps his tools and leaves the bay just in time for the air lock to cycle and allow a transit pod to come inside. As it cycles back, pumping in atmosphere and restoring gravity, he counts the seconds until the door slides open again.

  Standing in the center of the docking bay is Dagmar Krall. Her blond hair is now braided back from her face, and her clothes have returned to Vagabond gaudiness—a rich red tunic and gold pants that seem to be made of silk. The confidence radiating from her and the unwavering focus of those large eyes give her the ineffable quality humans call presence. No one would be surprised to learn she’s the most powerful Consortium leader in the galaxy.

  “Welcome to the Persephone, Commodore Krall,” Abel says.

  “Thanks.” Her smile is warmer when she’s not in her command chair. She seems almost relaxed. “I’ve been curious about this little ship.”

  “I would be pleased to offer you a tour.” He used to give tours back in the early days, when this was Mansfield’s ship. It will be more enjoyable to lead the tour as its captain.

  “Sounds great. But first, I was hoping to speak with you privately, Abel.” Her smile seems unexpectedly friendly. “About… an opportunity.”

  Intriguing. “What do you mean?”

  “We’re working with Genesis now,” she says. “That alliance will hold until the war is won and my people who want homes on that planet have them. While some Genesis operatives have begun moving throughout the larger galaxy—”

  “They have?” Abel wonders what kind of an intelligence service Genesis could possibly have, after three decades of isolation. They’ll have to learn fast.

  Krall nods. “I hear they’ve even sent a couple agents to Haven. But most of what Genesis needs done in the galaxy at large, the Consortium is sworn to do. Still—that won’t last forever. We’re going to win this war. With Bellum Sanctum about to deploy, it looks like we’re going to win soon. The question is, what happens afterward?”

  “I believe,” Abel says, “that you’re finally approaching the point.”

  “You’re one of a kind,” Krall replies, beginning to pace around him. “Not that I have to tell you that, but it bears repeating. You’re the only mech of your kind, and your capabilities—the things you’ve done in this fight, in the Battle of Genesis—well, it’s impressive.”

  Abel nods in acknowledgment. There is no need to thank her, since she is merely stating fact.

  She continues circling him. “I’ve seen you turn the tide of battle twice now. You seem like a good man to have around. You’re useful, Abel. That’s more than you can say for most people. And it means you could do better than small-scale trading.”

  “Small-scale trading has proved reasonably successful for me so far.” Abel doesn’t intend to brag, but Harriet and Zayan have assured him that their profit margins are considerably larger than those of the average Vagabond vessel.

  Krall bows her head, conceding the point. “I’d imagine you’re doing as well as any single trader can out here. But you could do even better if you had more resou
rces. More intel, from more corners of the galaxy. If you had allies sworn to help and defend you no matter what.”

  The conclusion finally presents itself to Abel. “You’re recruiting the Persephone for the Krall Consortium.”

  “Think about it.” Krall spreads her hands as though laying a banquet before him. “You’d get bigger jobs. Have backup and security. Partners get a cut of every deal. Your ship’s smaller than I’d usually require for a captain to be a full partner, but in this case, the Persephone’s not the main asset I’m trying to bring into our fleet. It’s you yourself. We’d have your crew in for specialized training—”

  “I appreciate the offer.” It is, in fact, the most flattering thing Abel’s heard in a while. “However, I doubt we would work well together long-term.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Forgive me, Commodore Krall—”

  “Call me Dagmar.”

  “Forgive me, Dagmar,” Abel continues without missing a beat. “But you are—in a manner of speaking—a pirate.”

  She laughs long and loud. “Yes, I break the laws. So do you. When Earth’s the one defining what’s right and what’s wrong, sometimes it’s better to be ‘wrong.’ We’ve both made that call plenty of times, haven’t we?”

  That is… a rational stance for her to take.

  Maybe sensing his curiosity, Krall adds, “You have to consider the opportunities, too. Genesis may win its independence soon. That means trade, and the new trade routes won’t solely be under Earth’s control. On top of that, the galaxy’s expanding! Haven won’t be isolated for long, and—” She pauses, as if wondering whether to trust him with this. More quietly, she says, “Like we were discussing back on Stronghold, the military presence in Kismet is higher than that for any of the other colony worlds.”

  “Yes, though it’s curiously far from Kismet itself.”

  “Very curious,” Krall agrees. “So some of my scouts looked around. It turns out that at the edge of this system, tucked away in the orbit of a planetoid in the very center of this military presence, is an object under construction.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “That object has only just become recognizable as another Gate.”

  Abel is as capable of being amazed as any human, it appears, because it takes him a full 0.72 seconds to speak. “A Gate to another secret world?” How many planets did Earth’s elite intend to hide from the populace at large?

  “Actually, I think this is on the up-and-up,” Krall says. “There are signs Earth’s rushing the construction, trying to get it ready double-quick. If they could announce another planet, one as good as Haven or better, it would go a long way toward defusing the public anger.”

  “But they won’t know whether the planet is viable for human settlement until after the Gate’s complete and the system’s been explored in depth.” Gates are built when long-range scanners find a world that shows promise—but thanks to the amount of time it takes light to traverse the galaxy, scans can only tell how a planet looked thousands if not millions of years ago. That’s more than enough time for a sun to go supernova, for an enormous asteroid to crash onto the planet and wreck its ecosystem for geologic ages to come, and for any other number of catastrophes that would turn a potential home for humanity into just one more lifeless, useless rock.

  “Exactly,” Krall says. “So they’re building that Gate in one hell of a hurry. At this rate, it looks like it won’t be more than another year or so before it’s fully operational. That’s when the rest of the galaxy finds out about this. But my Consortium knows about it now, and that gives us a significant advantage. Whoever controls Kismet in the years to come is going to wield considerable power. With all these worlds coming together, and Earth probably losing absolute power—you see the possibilities, right?”

  Abel does. He also understands the parts she didn’t say, only implied.

  “The only planet that should control Kismet,” he says slowly, “is Kismet itself.”

  Impatiently, Krall waves her hand. “Well, of course. But we’d be working with Kismet, and Genesis as well, once the war is won. Colony worlds and Vagabonds would be leading the way at last. Isn’t it about time?”

  Perhaps she means well. Probably. The kind of person who enjoys the free life of a Vagabond usually isn’t the kind who wants to impose a military dictatorship. But Krall is clearly unwilling to think about the full implications of this power. Her plan is all about knocking Earth down and making money in the chaos that is sure to follow.

  Abel wants to plan beyond that. What shape will the galaxy take? How will the worlds work together, instead of merely following Earth’s commands? Krall is interested in the wreck of a civilization; he’s interested in the rebuilding of one.

  “You’ll undoubtedly do well with this plan,” he says. “But Consortium life’s not for me.”

  “You want your independence,” Krall says with a nod, and it’s surprising how disappointed she looks. Abel’s flattered to think she was so interested.

  His path, however, must be one of his own choosing… and he means for it to follow Noemi’s path, wherever she may lead.

  19

  ALTHOUGH NOEMI WAS AT FIRST TOO EXCITED TO ASK many questions, the more she thinks about the Bellum Sanctum plan, the more she wishes she knew.

  Holy war can be righteous, she thinks, but it’s been used to excuse a lot of terrible things, all the way back to the beginning of human history. It’s important to ask whether a war is just before declaring it holy.

  Noemi’s never had to question the morality of the Liberty War before. Protecting her world from Earth’s ruinous rule—it was self-evident that this was a sacred duty. But the Liberty War has always been a defensive war. The few aggressive moves Genesis troops made in other star systems were only in the earliest days of the fight. By collapsing all of Earth’s communications, Bellum Sanctum represents a shift from defending Genesis to attacking Earth.

  Noemi’s okay with that, in principle. Her family died after their vehicle happened to drive over unexploded ordnance—her earliest memories include the heat of the explosion; the coldness of the snow where she lay, too injured to move; and the tiny crumpled form of the baby brother she never got to watch growing up. If Bellum Sanctum causes deaths on Earth, it’s only fair. Earth should know what it feels like—the grief, the fear, all of it.

  But there’s a thin line between justice and vengeance. Noemi wants to make sure she’s on the right side.

  She heads to bed while Abel’s still talking with Dagmar Krall. Although she can’t wait to hear everything about that conversation—and is even tempted to listen in via comms—two death-defying escapes in a row have left her wrung out and exhausted. Virginia put her pineapple pajamas back on and turned in almost immediately; it’s high time Noemi followed suit.

  But it’s hard to get to sleep. She lies in her bunk, alternately drowsy and fitful, for what feels like hours before she finally dozes off.

  Sometimes, when Noemi’s sleeping, it seems like her brain keeps working on problems without her. While she’s either completely out or dreaming surreal, unrelated things, her rational mind must remain awake, fitting together the various jagged edges of a problem until it appears whole.

  This is one of those nights, because almost as soon as she awakens, she murmurs, “Darius Akide.”

  Akide knew what Bellum Sanctum was. He had to know, as a member of the Elder Council. He also had to know that Genesis was finally in a position of strength and could go on the offensive. But he was still desperate to use Abel to close the Genesis Gate and end the war that way instead. Why would Akide feel like that if the Bellum Sanctum strategy was able to give Genesis the final victory?

  Noemi believes there are only two possibilities: First, Akide might’ve believed Bellum Sanctum wouldn’t work. The device is thirty years old; it could be broken down, maybe beyond repair. But it’s the second option that makes her heart beat fast, makes her question every bit of rage she’s felt for Darius Akide si
nce he attacked her and Abel.

  The second option is that Bellum Sanctum would work, but it isn’t just about scrambling communications. It involves something else—something too terrible for Akide to contemplate. So terrible that he never wanted to see it used, not even against Earth. Once the Battle of Genesis had been won, though, he knew Genesis was finally in a position to use that ultimate weapon. Attacking us was an act of desperation. He was willing to destroy Abel—even to murder me—to keep our planet from using that weapon.

  For that to be true, though, Bellum Sanctum would have to cause death, and on a massive scale.

  Noemi can’t be certain of any of this. Maybe she’s making an ocean out of a trickle, as Mrs. Gatson used to say. She wants to think that her planet wouldn’t ever devise a strategy so corrupt, so far removed from the teachings of any of the religious traditions on Genesis. Surely the people would rise up to protest anything truly cataclysmic.

  Is the leadership of Genesis lying to the people? The same way they might be lying to me?

  As she sits on her bed, breathing hard, the comms crackle with Virginia’s voice. “Ahoy there, mechs and half mechs! Looks like our happy little ragtag fleet is about to get another member.”

  Noemi wipes her eyes and hits the toggle to open a two-way channel. “Do you mean another ship is approaching?”

  “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  Abel’s voice breaks in. “Can you identify the approaching ship?”

  “No specific ID, but they’re headed toward the Katara for docking, so it looks like they’re old friends. It’s a weird model of ship—white, almost cylindrical—reminds me a lot of the Dove back on Genesis.”