Gemina

by Amie Kaufman

  I want you to know your hands are clean.

  I think I knew this was coming. The writing was on the wall for a long time now. You said it yourself, right? I’m not naïve enough to think anyone’s getting out of this alive.

  I’m still not even sure how I feel about that.

  But maybe you could do me one favor?

  My dad still lives on Jia III. On the Tàiyáng Grid. I know you can’t tell him the details, but if you could maybe get word to him that I did good. Did my job. Duty. Code. Loyalty. He’d want to know that.

  I think it’d make him proud.

  I’m gonna go wait in the Atrium…

  Close my eyes in all that green. Listen to the waterfall.

  Breathe.

  This is Rapier (BT:po-1789i) signing off.

  --------------------------END OF FILE

  Chief Prosecutor: Gabriel Crowhurst, BSA, MFS, JD

  Chief Defense Counsel: Kin Hebi, BSA, ARP, JD

  Tribunal: Hua Li Jun, BSA, JD, MD; Saladin Al Nakat, BSA, JD; Shannelle Gillianne Chua, BSA, JD, OKT

  Witness: Leanne Frobisher, Director of Acquisitions, BeiTech Industries, MFA, MBA, PhD

  Date: 10/28/76

  Timestamp: 14:51

  —cont. from pg. 870—

  Crowhurst, G: What did you make of your agent’s Acquisition Team Report, Dr. Frobisher?

  Frobisher, L: [Consults with counsel.] The report is a fabrication, along with most of this file. Lies strung together by the so-called Illuminae Group in a transparent attempt to pin the blame for this tragedy on BeiTech.

  Crowhurst, G: So you claim to have no—

  [sound of static across courtroom PA]

  Hebi, K: …What is that?

  Al Nakat, S: Bailiff?

  Bailiff: Apologies, Your Honor. We seem to be having technical diffic—

  [high-pitched squealing]

  [burst of static]

  Unidentified Voice: Attention, UTA tribunal. Attention, UTA tribunal.

  [sound of crowd]

  Chua, S: Who is this? Identify yourself!

  Unidentified Voice: This is Hanna Donnelly.

  [sound of crowd]

  Al Nakat, S: Order! I said order!

  Hua, LJ: How are you transmitting through our public address system? Hijacking United Terran Authority computer channels is a serious crime.

  Donnelly, H: Sounds like I should get myself a good lawyer. You know a bunch, don’t you, Director Frobisher?

  Hebi, K: Your Honors, defense objects!

  Donnelly, H: Hello, Leanne. Surprised to hear from me?

  Frobisher, L: This is exactly the sort of cheap showmanship th—

  Hebi, K: Your Honors, are we really going to be subjected to more cheap theater from the prosecution? We have no proof whatsoever that this criminal is who she says she is.

  Donnelly, H: Run a voice comp scan, Mr. Hebi. You’ve already got my aural sig on dozens of radio files. I think you’ll find they match pretty closely.

  Donnelly, H: Perfectly, in fact.

  Donnelly, H: And you still haven’t answered my question, Leanne.

  Donnelly, H: Surprised?

  Frobisher, L: [inaudible]

  Crowhurst, G: Miss Donnelly, this is Gabriel Crowhurst, head of the prosecution.

  Donnelly, H: We know who you are, Mr. Crowhurst.

  Crowhurst, G: I’m sorry, “we”?

  Donnelly, H: The Illuminae Group.

  [sound of crowd]

  Al Nakat, S: Order! One more outburst and I will clear this courtroom!

  Crowhurst, G: Miss Donnelly, if you are who you say you are—and our technicians will be verifying your identity by voice comp, believe me—you must know this conversation presents a few logistical difficulties.

  Donnelly, H: How so?

  Crowhurst, G: Well, according to the very files your group supplied us, you’re dead.

  Donnelly, H: You’re right, that sounds serious. Should I take an oath or something? I, Hanna Alimah Donnelly, do solemnly swear that I definitely exist…

  Crowhurst, G: Miss Donnelly, regardless of your claims, you, the Malikovs, the crew of Heimdall—you’re all officially deceased. According to the Acquisition Team Report the Illuminae Group gave the UTA, all of you were killed in Heimdall’s final minutes by Samuel Maginot, aka Jackson Merrick, aka Rapier.

  Hebi, K: Defense objects. Your Honors, the prosecution is now conducting a conversation with a dead girl about the fraudulent testimony she and her terrorist organization supplied to a UTA tribunal. How long will this be allowed to continue?

  Al Nakat, S: I must concur, Mr. Crowhurst. Unless you—

  Donnelly, H: Have you ever played poker, Your Honor?

  Al Nakat, S: …Of course I have.

  Donnelly, H: Then you know what a bluff is, right? Act like you’ve got a handful of nothing, sucker your opponent into a big bet? Then drop your aces?

  Al Nakat, S: Are you saying—

  Donnelly, H: I’m saying Rapier’s report was written to make BeiTech think they had the winning hand. If the good Dr. Frobisher here believed the Heimdall was destroyed by her insurance fleet, and that Assault Fleet Kennedy was speeding on its way to destroy what was left of planet Kerenza after having already X-ed out the Hypatia, then she’d believe she was safe. BeiTech would have no reason to hunt for witnesses when we were all dead. And that’d give us the time we needed to pull together this dossier and expose the crimes Dr. Frobisher and BeiTech had perpetrated on Kerenza and Jump Station Heimdall.

  Frobisher, L: I refuse to put up with this for another second!

  Chua, S: Dr. Frobisher, sit down immediately.

  Frobisher, L: This entire tribunal is a farce!

  Chua, S: Counselor, you will control your client, or so help me…

  Al Nakat, S: Miss Donnelly, if Samuel Maginot’s report was indeed a fabrication, perhaps you might tell the court what happened in Heimdall’s final minutes?

  Donnelly, H: I’m glad you asked.

  Donnelly, H: But I can do better than tell you, Your Honor.

  Donnelly, H: I can show you.

  Ella Malikova is floating over Heimdall’s wormhole control system, typing furiously. Her hair is loose, a long black whip trailing behind her as she listens to the voice piping through her palmpad—AIDAN’s sexless, toneless inflection running her through the sequences to stave off the auto-shutdown systems. She’s still half dusted from the lanima toxin, pupils dilated, chewing her lip, eyes locked on her screens.

  And then Operative Rapier enters the room.

  He takes in the scene at a glance. The bodies of the BeiTech kill squad, his former comrades. Cerberus, Sensei and the rest. Their corpses floating among hundreds of aimless, tiny balls of scarlet and shell casings drifting in the zero grav.

  Ella glances up at the sound of his boots. Eyes growing wider.

  “Jackson Merrick,” she finally says. “Ya know, my fem Zoe had me dub a mix of y—”

  He raises his rifle, and the words die on her lips.

  But strangely, Rapier doesn’t shoot.

  “What are you doing?” he demands.

  Ella’s fingers are still tapping away on the keys, eyes locked on his.

  “Your boss shot the **** out of the system before he cashed out, Secret Agent Boy. Shutdown sequence is trying to engage. Close the wormhole before the Mao can get away from those incoming drones.” She stares at him coolly. Unafraid. “And I’m stopping it. Unless you stop me.”

  Rapier glances up at the viewscreen against the wall. The bulk of the Mao, turning toward the wormhole, thrusters flaring bright. Five hundred or so witnesses to the atrocities committed aboard Heimdall, headed toward the Kerenza system, where BeiTech can’t touch them.

  In a minute or so, they’ll be across the brink.

  Out of reach.

  Footsteps ring in the corridor, magboots thumping on metal. Rapier keeps his rifle trained on Ella, eyes shifting to the doorway as Hanna Donnelly barrels into the room, a halo of blond floating
about her pale, blood-spattered face. Blue eyes widen as she spies Rapier, breath catching in her lungs. Nik Malikov pushes himself into the room behind her, hand going to the handle of the bloody cleaver at his belt as he catches sight of the rifle pointed at his cousin.

  “Merrick!” he shouts.

  “Nik, don’t,” Hanna warns.

  The room is deathly still. The Mao pushing closer toward escape.

  “Hello, Hanna,” Rapier says.

  “Jackson…”

  Her hands are fists at her sides. Muscle in her jaw twitching.

  “There’s another drone fleet incoming,” he says, eyes locked on hers. “BeiTech sent a backup in case Falk dropped the ball. They’re set to destroy this station and everything on it in about twelve minutes’ time.”

  “I know.”

  “Your Little Spider here tells me the wormhole controls are shot. Looks like one of you three is going to have to stay behind if the other two want to get away.”

  Malikov looks to the girl beside him. “Hanna?”

  Rapier glances at the kid, mouth twisting in a smirk.

  “Looks like she doesn’t tell you everything, loverboy.”

  Ella is still tapping away at the keyboard. Eyes locked on the rifle locked on her. The Mao is only seconds away from breaching the wormhole now. Hanna is tense as a steel spring, Malikov coiled behind her. If Merrick opens fire on Ella, the pair of them might still take him. The Mao might still get away. If he opens fire…

  If he opens fire.

  Except he doesn’t.

  The wormhole flares bright, a million ripples per second, blue light filling the control room as the freighter plunges across the breach. Twisting and stretching along the hyperspatial bridge, hurled millions of light-years across the universe, hundreds of witnesses torn from BeiTech’s clutches who now might live to tell the tale.

  The whole time, Rapier doesn’t move a muscle.

  The light dies slow, reflected in the narrowed, confused eyes of Nik Malikov and Hanna Donnelly. Rapier is still staring at her: the girl he wrapped up in lies, the girl whose world he tore apart, the girl he once claimed to love.

  “Ten minutes,” he says. “You three had better hurry.”

  Malikov glances at his cousin, who shrugs and shakes her head.

  Donnelly frowns. “…What are you saying, Jackson?”

  “It’s not about what I say, right? It’s what I do that matters here.” Rapier lowers his rifle as he quotes her. “This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. I never wanted this. And like you said, I made promises. You remember, Hanna?”

  She blinks then. Eyes shining a touch too bright as she whispers, “…I remember.”

  Rapier nods at the viewscreen.

  The wormhole and the Kerenza system waiting beyond it.

  “That’s where you’ll find them. Just through there.”

  Magboots clunking, he trudges around to the console beside Ella. Watching her keystrokes, memorizing the patterns that will stave off the shutdown a moment longer.

  “You better go,” he finally says. “Take the Boop and run. Hook up with the Mao. Find the Hypatia. I don’t know what comes next. But whatever you do, make it count for something.”

  “Why the hell should we trust you?” Malikov growls.

  Rapier glances at the boy and shrugs. “What choice have you got?”

  “And what about BeiTech, Secret Agent Boy?” Ella asks. “They think we’re still kicking, they’re just gonna set more dogs on our tails.”

  “They’ll have a hard time following you.” Rapier nods to the wormhole. “And I can spin a lie to Frobisher that’ll keep them off your backs. For a while at least. The longer we stand here arguing about it, the less time I’m going to have to write it. Those drones are eight minutes away.”

  The cousins glance at each other. Ella shrugs.

  “Go,” Rapier says. “Now.”

  Malikov grabs his cousin’s hand, guides her across the room, her legs trailing behind her in the zero grav. She breaks his grip, pushes back to the console and snatches up a plastic baggie containing a small black goldfish. She glances at Rapier, rivers of dark hair drifting about her face. And with a small nod, she pushes back, away, past her cousin and down the corridor toward the Boop.

  Malikov takes Donnelly’s hand. Tugs insistently toward the hatch.

  “Hanna, come on…”

  She doesn’t move. Staring at Rapier. The boy who wrapped her up in lies, the boy who tore her world apart, the boy who claimed he loved her.

  “Goodbye, Hanna,” he says.

  Tears in her eyes. Rage? Hate? Sorrow?

  Only she knows.

  “Hanna, come on.”

  Finally, she allows herself to be led. Out the hatch. Down the corridor. Into the Boop and into the black. Thrusters burning bright, hurling them into the gleaming blue. Her eyes shining with the light of it. Beneath, between, beyond.

  Along the endless circle.

  Down the ceaseless spiral.

  And waiting for her on the other side?

  Just like he promised.

  Chief Prosecutor: Gabriel Crowhurst, BSA, MFS, JD

  Chief Defense Counsel: Kin Hebi, BSA, ARP, JD

  Tribunal: Hua Li Jun, BSA, JD, MD; Saladin Al Nakat, BSA, JD; Shannelle Gillianne Chua, BSA, JD, OKT

  Witness: Leanne Frobisher, Director of Acquisitions, BeiTech Industries, MFA, MBA, PhD

  Date: 10/28/76

  Timestamp: 15:24

  —cont. from pg. 876—

  Crowhurst, G: That’s…

  Crowhurst, G: That’s quite a story, Miss Donnelly.

  Donnelly, H: You don’t know the half of it.

  Frobisher, L: And we’re supposed to give credence to this nonsense? I suppose the Betty Boop and the Mao found the Hypatia waiting for them on the other side of the wormhole? Champagne and medals for everyone? All wrapped up in a neat little bow?

  Donnelly, H: Wouldn’t you like to know?

  Crowhurst, G: Well, I certainly would. Your Honors?

  Chua, S: …It’s a compelling tale, I’ll admit.

  Al Nakat, S: But there’s one small problem with it.

  Donnelly, H: Pray tell.

  Al Nakat, S: Miss Donnelly, Jump Station Heimdall was destroyed. Completely. Whether by this alleged drone fleet or not. The United Terran Authority has confirmed that nothing remains of the station but an ever-widening debris field. If indeed you and the Malikovs were reunited with the residents of Heimdall aboard the Mao, there was no way back to the central systems. You would’ve been trapped on the Kerenza side of the wormhole, along with the crew of the Hypatia, with no means of returning. The trip back to the Core would take thousands of lifetimes under conventional thrust.

  Donnelly, H: Mmm, come to think of it, someone did mention that.

  Al Nakat, S: And with Heimdall destroyed, there would be no way to transmit from the Kerenza system waypoint.

  Al Nakat, S: So it’s literally impossible for you to be here talking to us right now.

  Donnelly, H: [laughs.]

  Al Nakat, S: Miss Donnelly?

  Donnelly, H: Okay, think about everything me and Nik and Ella and Kady and Ezra and all the others had been through. Leave aside the planetary invasions and killsquads, the mind-eating alien parasites, and mass-murdering artificial intelligences for a minute.

  Donnelly, H: We’d just saved two goddamn universes from total annihilation after an interdimensional paradox event threatened to swallow them whole.

  Donnelly, H: You really think “impossible” was going to be a problem for us after all that?

  Al Nakat, S: I don’t know, Miss Donnelly.

  Al Nakat, S: Was it?

  Donnelly, H: Hell, no.

  Donnelly, H: We were just getting started.

  Donnelly, H: You wanna know how it ends?

  Acknowledgments

  The journey from Illuminae to Gemina has been an amazing one, and on a voyage like this, your crew is everything. We have the very best, a
nd we’re so grateful they’re riding with us. Here are the folks who have our backs:

  Our first readers, who boldly go where no sane person would want to, all so you can hold this book in your hands. Thank you to Lindsay Ribar, Marie Lu, and Michelle Dennis. We hope your eyebrows are never scorched off by a sugar bomb made by a seventeen-year-old with a MacGyver complex.

  Our experts, who share their hard-won knowledge with us, then watch helplessly as we use it to murder thousands of people. Any errors are, of course, ours. Thank you to Mike Sims and Diana Rowland for information on police procedure, to Dr. Ailie Connell and Dr. Kate Irving for cheerfully violating your Hippocratic oaths, to Tsana Dolichva for astrophysics advice and Russian know-how, to Kira Ostrovska for Russian translation and information, to David Taylor and Michelle Dennis for computer and hacking-related witchcraft, and to Soraya Een Hajji for Latin badassery. Thank you also to Commander Chris Hadfield, whose videos from the ISS inspired us, and Hank Green and the SciShow Space team. And not to forget, many thanks to Dave Allen for his inspirational comedy stylings. We hope you’re never blown out an airlock by a ****ed-off fifteen-year-old with a Mount Russshmore® addiction.