Defy the Worlds

by Claudia Gray

  And if he sees Simon again—what?

  He’ll answer that when he has to, and not before. “Let’s go.”

  Their entry point at ground level turns out not to be far from the air lock through which Abel originally entered the Osiris. He feels a strange ache at the memory of Riko greeting him here, smiling and exhilarated, little guessing she had less than three days left to live.

  Concentrate on relevant facts, he reminds himself. At the time, this was Remedy-held territory. But Remedy no longer has the workforce to control so much space. This location should be safe.

  “How far are we from a communications station we could use to contact Virginia?”

  “Given the depleted energy reserves within the ship, we would probably have to get very near the bridge to find a working comms console. While possible, this course of action would also bring us into likely contact with Remedy members.” Who will, of course, be desperate to capture Abel and turn him over to Gillian in exchange for the medicine that would save their surviving friends.

  She nods. “And the docking bay?” As they slowly work their way within, it becomes clear that even the emergency lighting has begun to falter. Abel adjusts his vision to infrared so Noemi will remain a warm glow by his side.

  “Nearly half the length of the ship away—but closer than the bridge.”

  She groans. “Let’s just start walking.”

  One corridor proves to be by far the safest and best lit, so they’re able to make good time. They walk instead of run, both to be as quiet as possible and to avoid overtaxing Noemi. Or so Abel thinks, until he realizes that for once Noemi’s the one slowing down to his pace. Perhaps she’s worried about his ankle. It’s strangely pleasant, being worried about.

  Yet some of his capacities remain at full strength—including his mech vision. Within fifteen meters of the docking bay, he halts midstep, putting his arm out to block Noemi. When she turns to him, confused, he says in a low voice, “Pressurized explosive device, point four one meters ahead.”

  “How are you—”

  “I’m on infrared frequencies right now. Otherwise I would’ve missed it. Apparently a wire’s been fed through the floor of the corridor.”

  “Remedy mined the floor?” Noemi steps backward, a movement Abel copies. They came far too close to activating this device. If he’s accurately measuring its explosive content, the resulting blast would’ve shredded them both. “It has to be Remedy—there’s no way the passengers have the know-how for this, or Simon either.”

  “Agreed. They must’ve done this when their people began falling ill. Since Remedy no longer had members available for patrols, they went for mines.”

  “Well, let’s find a corridor they didn’t mine.”

  But such a corridor isn’t easy to find. Now that Abel knows how to look for the devices, he’s able to adjust his vision to search areas human sight could never reach. Remedy’s mines are planted deep in the ship’s framework, making it impossible to cross from one part of the ship to another. “There must remain at least one route to the docking bay,” he says, as much to himself as to her, when they find the fifth blocked passage. “It’s the most tactically significant section of the Osiris. They wouldn’t cut themselves off from it.”

  “But we’d have to go through whatever remains of Remedy to reach it, which means they’d target you.” Noemi leans against one wall. “You see what this is, don’t you?”

  “A trap.” He should have expected as much.

  “No. At least, not for us. Even if every member of Remedy dropped dead, the passengers wouldn’t be able to leave the surface of this planet. Not now, not ever. Fouda knows he’s lost. So he’s making sure the passengers die with them, even if it means they starve.”

  History contains many examples of humanity’s capacity for spite, so this shouldn’t shock Abel. But he still can’t comprehend how a person comes to such a calculation.

  He can, however, perform some calculations of his own. “Fouda may have wired the docking bay, too.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Noemi agrees.

  “Perhaps we should try to approach the bridge after all. Remedy’s forces are weakened. We stand a chance of reaching a communications console.”

  “No.” Noemi squares her shoulders. “We have to set the passengers free.”

  “I don’t intend to abandon them. We should send for help once we’ve reached the Earth system.” Some of the patrol ships circling Neptune and its moons no doubt know of the Osiris and would be able to mount a rescue mission. “As for Simon, I’ll reach out to him once we have comms.”

  Noemi folds her arms across her chest. “What makes you think he’s going to listen?”

  “I’ve been considering what would motivate him. He is, at his core, a little boy. So I thought I would offer him a ride in a new spaceship. One where he can sit in the captain’s chair. That would work, wouldn’t it?”

  Her tone gentles. “Maybe. But if he goes haywire up there—”

  “I can install safeguards.” Abel’s already considered this. “There’s no way I’d ever let him endanger you. Or Virginia.” He hopes Virginia never hears how he had to add on that last.

  “Okay. I trust you.” She says it more like she’s convincing herself than him.

  “We must of course do something for the passengers and Remedy members before we go. Their lives are endangered.”

  Noemi hesitates. At first, their escape seemed like no more than leaving a dangerous situation; however, Abel’s programming is at work within him, urging him to protect human life if he can… absent instructions to the contrary from Burton Mansfield, who is no longer a factor. He suspects Noemi’s religious belief operates much the same way within her, reminding her of others who need protection.

  She begins, “You know how badly I want to get off this planet and help Genesis, but—no, you’re right. We can’t leave them to die. They don’t have tons of food down there—just champagne and petits fours, and they were almost out of those when I left. Those force fields have to be tapping the last of the energy; soon the ship’s climate control will fail. The passengers will freeze to death before we can send help.”

  The fervor in Noemi’s voice stirs something within Abel—a sense of purpose that goes beyond his programming. That purpose is as much a part of her as blood or bone.

  Quietly he says, “You will always be a soldier of Genesis. A holy warrior.”

  Noemi nods. Even in the gloom of this dark corridor, he can discern the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “Do you think there’s any hope of getting the codes from Fouda? Or will he let my planet die?”

  “I don’t know.”

  There is one thing Abel could do, a final drastic measure that would get them the codes. He could trade himself to Fouda for the codes to help Genesis—allowing Fouda to then trade him to Gillian for medicine.

  Gillian Shearer would get her hands on Abel at last. His soul would be forfeit, and his body would finally, completely, belong to Mansfield. He would fulfill Directive One.

  The very fact that Noemi hasn’t argued for this herself is testament to how much their friendship must mean to her. He offered to die for Genesis once before, but she rejects that idea as strongly now as she did then. Still, if it comes down to one life for billions—

  Abel curtails the thought. He believes they’ll get out of this on their own, because he believes in Noemi. She is the only faith he needs.

  27

  NORMALLY NOEMI WOULD LEAVE THE MECHANICAL work to Abel. It’s not that she doesn’t know how to do most of it, more that she figures the guy who is actually part machine has an advantage.

  But now she kneels in front of the nearest comm panel, prying it open and using her small emergency light to peer inside. She’ll do the labor so Abel can conserve his strength. Their escape from the other side of the ship nearly killed him; she understands that even if he doesn’t. As they traveled through the corridors closer to the bridge, Abel walked slowly, and wit
h an almost imperceptible limp. That sort of behavior, coming from him, is proof of real damage.

  Even more proof: He lets her do the work without complaint or comment.

  Noemi doesn’t know how to fix Abel, but she can at least be careful with him. She can’t haul him all the way across the ship. They have to figure out a way to handle this where they are.

  The comm panel they’ve got isn’t fully powered, but Noemi’s jury-rigged it to do something. She only needs to make a couple of transmissions—starting with a couple of deals.

  If she handles this right, both Captain Fouda and Gillian Shearer will have to play by her rules for a change.

  “Okay, I’m about to call the passengers’ headquarters.” Noemi glances up at him. “Are you ready?”

  Abel nods, and she puts it through.

  Her voice crackles and echoes through the corridor as she says, “This is Noemi Vidal of Genesis, for Gillian Shearer.” The pause feels longer than it is.

  The passengers must’ve been listening for Fouda to issue commands, because the reply comes almost instantly. “Where is Abel?” Gillian demands. Her voice comes through the small speaker against Noemi’s hand; the vibrating effect feels like she’s holding Gillian in her palm. “Does he still exist? Or did Remedy destroy him?” She’s scared of what Remedy would do out of spite.

  “Abel’s fine,” Noemi says. “So am I. Thanks for asking.”

  Gillian ignores this. “I want to speak directly to Abel.”

  Abel kneels beside Noemi and leans close to the console. Its golden light glows between them as he says, “I’m here, Gillian.”

  “You’re not coming back for Father, are you?” Gillian’s voice breaks. She’s caught between laughter and tears, so vividly that Noemi can picture her saying, “Did the two of you call just to torment me?”

  “No,” he says. “I wanted to tell you that Simon remains alive, though exhibiting extreme mental and physical malfunction. He’s collecting other mechs, somehow controlling them. Simon’s dangerous to anyone on this ship—including you—and to himself. However, I still believe I can help him.”

  “So you’re using the life of a small child as a bargaining chip,” Gillian retorts.

  Noemi cuts in. “And you’re using dozens of lives as bargaining chips, so you don’t have a lot of room to talk, Dr. Shearer.”

  “I’ll help Simon no matter what,” Abel says quietly. “If I can.”

  “If this isn’t about Simon—”

  “You’re smart enough to have kept checking the main passageways, so I’m guessing you know Remedy’s trapped all of you on this ship,” Noemi says. “If the mechs from the Winter Castle were coming to save you, they’d have gotten here by now. You’re going to starve or freeze to death if we don’t help you—but we’re willing to help you. If you accept a few conditions.”

  “Conditions.” Is that anger in Gillian’s voice? Resignation? “Of course.”

  “They’re pretty simple,” Noemi says. “One, you never come after Abel again. No mech hunters, no hostage situations, nothing. You set him free. Your father had his time, so let Abel have his.”

  One of Abel’s hands curves around her wrist, a gentle touch that lifts one corner of Noemi’s mouth in a smile.

  Gillian says brusquely, “What else?”

  “Two, you spare the surviving members of Remedy. You give them the medical supplies they need. Then you bring them to the Winter Castle, share your provisions, let them help build this world. The ones who’ve had Cobweb are as adapted to Haven as you are.”

  “How did you know—” Gillian cuts herself off, but too late.

  “They need new homes as much as you do,” Noemi continues. “Yeah, some of them have done terrible things, but seeing as how you guys basically tried to steal a planet, I don’t think you have much room to talk. They’re used to hard work, and they have some of the skills your passengers lack. They’d make good settlers for a new world.”

  In the background, beneath the crackle of the speaker, Noemi hears Delphine call, “We need someone who knows how to make snowshoes!” and has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

  Gillian finally says, “All right. We can do that. But Simon—Abel, what are you going to do with Simon? I’ve called and called for him—”

  “Help him stabilize his mental and emotional processes,” Abel replies. “I’m not sure whether you can restore him to a growing tank at this point, or whether his memory patterns have been warped by the transfer—there are many variables in play. He began his existence as a human, which makes his experience radically different from mine, but we’re still alike in one fundamental way. We’re the only two mechs in the galaxy who are also… individuals. If anyone can understand him, I can.”

  Gillian’s response: “No one understands a child like his mother does.”

  No way is Noemi letting her get away with that. “Or like a father? Well, I’m sorry, but Mansfield told you to trash Simon and start over, like that would be no big deal. To me that sounds like your dad didn’t understand you at all.”

  Another long silence falls. Abel’s eyes widen as he thinks about Mansfield’s dismissal of Simon, even though Noemi already told him about it. Abel’s pain remains palpable. Maybe people never stop trying to believe in those they once loved.

  Noemi decides it would be merciful to change the subject. “Okay, we have a deal. Wait where you are until we confirm that we’ve deactivated the mines.”

  The dry response: “I don’t think you have to worry about that one. We’re in no hurry to test them for ourselves.”

  “Then let’s save comms power. Vidal out.” With a flick of her thumb, the intraship comm goes quiet again, and she nods to Abel to change the signal. She’s no longer calling the passengers; this time, she’s calling the bridge. “Captain Fouda?”

  It takes several long seconds for a reply to come. “Vidal of Genesis.” Fouda’s voice is ragged, his tone like that of a man in shock. “Still alive.”

  “So far. We need to talk.”

  “We need your mech.” The defiance has bled out of him. All Noemi hears now is desperation. “Human lives are at stake—”

  “We’ve bargained with the passengers,” Noemi explains. “They’ll give you the medicine you need if you deactivate as many mines as you can—and give me the relay codes for Remedy.”

  She expects Fouda to argue or posture, but he’s past all that. “We don’t have many people left. The mines—I’m not sure how much we can do.”

  “Defuse as many as you can,” she repeats, adjusting her expectations. “Abel and I will take out a few, too. But now I need those relay codes.”

  “Gamma four eight seven delta mu delta five five one eight zeta six pi phi sigma three—”

  The string of letters and numbers catches her off guard; this must be something Fouda memorized by rote, something he’s spitting out with the last of his mental strength. I can’t record him! There’s no way I can remember this! Noemi momentarily panics, then realizes Abel’s getting every word.

  When Fouda finally finishes, he says, “How long? We need the medicine now.”

  “Abel and I need to clear at least one of the mines as a show of good faith,” Noemi answers. “As soon as we’ve done that, we’ll send passengers with help. All right?”

  “All right.” Fouda’s weariness makes it clear he sees this as defeat, even though it’s going to save the few people he has left. “Fouda out.”

  The tiny light between her and Abel goes dark. Her eyes have adjusted enough to the dim lighting to see his expression, though—thoughtful and uncertain at once. “What is it, Abel?”

  “You bargained for everyone except yourself.” He shakes his head slowly. “You’re remarkable.”

  “I bargained for you. That counts.”

  Abel’s hand slides up her arm, curves around the back of her neck. The way he leans closer makes her realize he intends to kiss her. Her heart thumps crazily in her chest—

  —but h
e drops his hand and pulls back. “I apologize.”

  No denying it: Noemi feels cheated. “For what?”

  “For acting on my romantic feelings.” Abel explains this as easily as he would the workings of the mag engines. “I don’t expect you to share them. But my momentary impulse may have made you feel awkward. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

  Slowly Noemi says, “Oh, Abel—that’s all wrong—”

  “What do you mean?”

  She can’t come up with the words. Words aren’t important. Nothing matters except a truth she didn’t know until this moment.

  Noemi puts her arms around Abel and brings her lips to his. When she kisses him, he tenses; at first she thinks she’s gotten it wrong somehow. But then he embraces her, brings her closer, kisses her back. She gives in to it, opening his mouth with her own.

  The first time they kissed, she was floating in midair. Gravity holds them fast now, but somehow it feels the same, like she’s flying inside.

  No, better. Last time she was only kissing Abel good-bye. It was an ending. This is a beginning.

  When their mouths part, Noemi’s breathing hard. Abel’s expression looks more dazed and wary than elated. “We shouldn’t get caught up like this. Not in the middle of such a serious crisis.”

  That’s what Captain Baz would tell them. That’s good military training. Noemi has never given less of a damn about military training in her life.

  Then Abel continues, “But as you humans say—to hell with it.” And he kisses her again.

  This time the kiss goes on much, much longer. Their tiny corner of the Osiris—their patch of this new world—feels like all there is to the entire universe. Noemi combs her fingers through his fair hair, leans against him so that he’ll feel her heartbeat through his chest; maybe it will feel like a heartbeat to him, too. He doesn’t have a heart or pulse of his own. She’ll share hers.

  Finally, Abel breaks the kiss and folds her deeper in his embrace. Noemi buries her face in the curve of his shoulder.

  Tentatively he asks, “Is it bad form to ask for romantic clarification?”