Defy the Worlds

  “Got a better idea?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  As the ship wheels around, gaining speed, he kicks at the Yoke to dislodge it. Yokes are built for strength, and this one doesn’t budge. The doors continue pressing in, but that only grips the Yoke more firmly. He cannot use his blaster without potentially damaging the ship.

  Finally he pulls a chair from its stand and bashes the Yoke repeatedly until it falls away—just as he hears the scraping of the docking bay doors, and he and Noemi emerge from darkness into morning light. Fresh cold air whips through their vessel via the still-open doors, and Abel welcomes the chill. They have at last escaped the Osiris.

  This would be a greater relief if the ship’s doors would shut.

  “Come on,” Noemi mutters, punching at the controls again. “Come on.”

  Abel grabs the ship’s doors and attempts to pull them shut, but the Yoke’s clawing damaged them. If the doors can’t be closed, the ship can’t leave Haven’s atmosphere, and he and Noemi will have to land and find the corsair. “Our escape may be flawed.”

  “And it just got worse.” Noemi gestures at the screen, which shows a handful of battered ships leaving the docking bay, no doubt piloted by mechs still mindlessly doing Simon’s bidding. How long will these mechs hunt them? Days? Weeks? There’s no way to be sure how strong Simon’s commands are until they’re tested. Reaching the corsair with this many enemies in pursuit will be dangerous; it may be impossible.

  Through the doors he catches a flash of red light. Noemi gasps, and he turns back to the screen. Another vessel has entered the atmosphere and is picking off the pursuing craft… not with weapons, but with mining lasers.

  Grinning, he goes to the comm panel, activates the signal, and says, “Your timing is impeccable.”

  “You’d better believe I’m forever captain for this!” Virginia yells back, and Noemi laughs out loud for joy.

  29

  NOEMI HOPS FROM MANSFIELD’S FRESHLY LANDED SHIP into thick white snow. The cold can’t touch her now. In the sky sparkles a familiar vessel, teardrop-shaped and diving toward their location. A broad smile spreads across her face. “The Persephone, huh?”

  “The Persephone,” Abel confirms. He moves stiffly as he leaves Mansfield’s ship. Noemi feels his pain almost as if it were her own—a strange sensitivity that courses through her nerves—and resolves to get him into regeneration mode as soon as possible.

  Aside from worrying about his well-being, it feels kind of good to be the one taking care of him for a change.

  The Persephone stops maybe half a kilometer away and hovers in place for a moment.

  A distant, screeching metal sound makes them both jump, but then Noemi recognizes the faint shimmer of the tractor beam. A moment later, something red and mostly shiny rises through the air—the corsair, no doubt just where Abel left it. The landing bay opens to take it in, and then the Persephone spins toward their location, touching down in a whirlwind of snow as its door pinwheels open. Noemi grabs Abel’s hand again as they run on board.

  “I’m back!” She spins as she looks around the bay. “I actually made it back. I never thought I would.”

  The ship lifts off again, landing bay door spiraling shut. Abel flips down a nearby jump seat and sinks onto it. “Welcome back.”

  It feels more like he said Welcome home.

  The inner door to the corridor slides open, revealing Virginia Redbird wearing an orange coverall and an enormous smile. She bounds toward them. “Noemi!”

  “Virginia. You did it. You saved us.”

  “As usual,” Virginia says, bundling Noemi into a warm hug. “I’m going to be one hundred percent honest here—I’m orbiting this planet, getting nervous because Robot Boy here isn’t checking in, and I figure, it’s time to see how things are going for these two. And they were sucking! What with you guys crashing and all. Which meant you needed me, not that you don’t always.”

  “You were right.” Noemi slumps against the wall. Relief feels like the removal of a tremendous weight she’s had to carry for too long.

  Virginia’s enormous smile dims the smallest fraction. “Are you guys all right?”

  “We need warmth, rest, and food,” Abel says. “More regeneration time. Then we’ll be fine.”

  “Then all’s well that—oh, hell, no.” Virginia’s eyes widen as she takes one staggering step toward the corsair. As Noemi takes a good look at it, she winces; its surface has been damaged by multiple blaster bolts. “What happened?”

  Abel says, “Most likely, when the mechs searching for us found a possible escape vehicle, they attempted to destroy it.”

  Noemi murmurs, “Simon says stay.”

  “Luckily their armaments weren’t sufficient to destroy the corsair,” Abel adds helpfully. “They were only able to severely damage it.”

  The worst ever at comforting people, Noemi thinks as she puts a hand on Virginia’s shoulder. “Um—we’re so sorry—”

  “It’s all right,” Virginia says weakly. “You’re my friends, and you’re more important than my ride. Always. But I just—I need a few seconds to just, I don’t know, flail around and make pterodactyl noises. Let me do that, okay?”

  Noemi’s not sure what that means until Virginia grabs her long hair and makes a screeching sound that does in fact sound like a large prehistoric thing in distress, at least as Noemi imagines it.

  I should probably leave her to it, she decides. Besides, she has someone else to take care of.

  “You,” Noemi says to Abel, bending to sling his arm over her shoulders and help him up. “Sick bay. Now.”

  “First we have to contact the Osiris one last time.”

  Her heart sinks as she realizes what he means—but he’s right. This is one call they have to make.

  “Abel?” The comms on the bridge crackle with Gillian Shearer’s voice. “We registered an explosion on our equipment several minutes ago—were you responsible? What’s happening? Please respond!”

  “It was us,” says Noemi.

  Gillian doesn’t even acknowledge her. “And Simon? Have you found Simon yet?”

  When Noemi’s dark eyes meet Abel’s, she’s silently asking whether he wants to say this himself, or whether it’s too painful. He lifts his head, accepting the duty. “Gillian, I’m truly sorry. Simon is gone.”

  A long pause follows, and is broken by Gillian’s rough voice. “You killed him.”

  “We had no choice. Both his body and his mind were breaking down beyond repair, and he was endangering human life. I can tell you that it was—quick.”

  Gillian Shearer has no use for such mercies. “You lied to me. You lied! You killed my son. The bargain’s over, Abel. We will find you.”

  “We’re off-planet, actually,” Noemi says. She’d like to rub that into Gillian’s face, but Abel clearly has more to say.

  He looks upward—maybe remembering Gillian’s face—as he says, “Don’t stop working on the Inheritors. The project isn’t quite ready for Simon, or for your father, or any other human transfer. Still, you’re very close. Someday soon there will be other mechs like me. But we’re more than repositories for human thought. We’re—a new species. Another kind of person. Someday you’ll see that. If Simon taught you nothing else, let him teach you this.”

  “Don’t you preach about my son to me, you—” Gillian’s voice chokes off. The comms go dead.

  Noemi turns her full attention to Abel. He stands behind his own captain’s chair, hands resting on the back of it, more weary and worn than she’d known he could look.

  “It cost you,” Noemi says. “Sacrificing Simon for me.”

  “I would’ve protected you no matter what. But I’m not the one who sacrificed him. Simon became a sacrifice when his mother and grandfather chose to experiment with his soul rather than let him go.”

  The moral dimensions of everything she’s learned—of what it will mean when there are other mechs with souls, whether they should exist, whether they can
be protected—this is something she needs to meditate on. As the adrenaline of their flight from the Osiris fades, her urgency to return to Genesis flares brighter in her mind. Here and now, however, she has a more immediate priority. “We need to get you to the sick bay. They have things to repair mechs in the sick bay, right? You’re partly organic.”

  “My primary medical needs at this time would be better served by a mechanical repair kit than by anything in the sick bay.”

  “So get yourself down to repair.” Noemi takes him by the shoulders and steers him to the door. “Then get some sleep.”

  “You need rest as well,” he points out.

  It will take them hours to reach the Haven Gate. Virginia’s still mourning her corsair. And Noemi will need her strength for what’s to come. “If I go to bed, you’ll go to bed?”

  Abel had expected her to argue, she can tell, but he nods.

  “Don’t you dare wake up for at least seven hours,” she says, pointing her finger at him.

  “As you command,” Abel replies, in a soft tone of voice that makes her wonder when else he might say that. Even as her cheeks flush hot, she gestures toward his bedroom and he obediently goes inside, hopefully straight to sleep.

  Noemi takes the world’s most glorious shower, then goes to bed in the same crew cabin she used before. Her exhaustion defeats every worry in her brain and carries her off for hours of the deepest slumber. When she awakens, she feels as if she’s returned from some completely different, alien realm of the mind.

  Fortunately some abandoned clothes of the long-ago Captain Gee remain in store, so she’s able to change into a fresh outfit, a simple black shirt and utility pants. She heads to the bridge to talk with Virginia, who isn’t there. But Abel is.

  Her eyes narrow. “You said you’d sleep.”

  “I did. I arrived here only twenty-two minutes and twelve seconds before you.”

  “Are you being super-precise so it won’t sound like you’re lying?”

  “I’m always precise,” Abel says, almost primly. Noemi relaxes as she realizes how much better he looks. New pink skin covers his once-wounded hands, and he moves with his usual energy. Even if he’s not one hundred percent again, he’s recovering.

  Now she has to give Genesis that same chance.

  They’re within minutes of the Haven Gate before Virginia joins them on the bridge. Her eyes are red-rimmed—she really loves that corsair, Noemi thinks—but her good cheer has apparently been restored. “Okay,” she says. “I’m pterodactyled out. What’s our situation?”

  Abel has returned to his captain’s chair. “Six minutes and ten seconds to the Gate.”

  “I’m at navigation, but if you want to take ops—” Noemi gestures toward the other main position on the bridge. “And I’m so sorry about the corsair, Virginia.”

  “It can be fixed. Yeah, it’s going to take a while, but projects are good. Projects are fun.” Virginia says it with genuine relish before giving Noemi a side glance. “Of course you guys have to help.”

  “You name it. I spent years learning how to fix up my own starfighter. Your corsair shouldn’t be too different.”

  Virginia raises an eyebrow. “Here I thought people on Genesis stuck to—germinating seeds, or praying, or eating oat bran, whatever you guys think is flash.”

  “It’s not just oat bran,” Noemi protests, but she has to laugh.

  The dark, rough exterior of the Haven Gate looks forbidding, but Noemi feels a lot better going out than she did going in. After light bends and twists around them, they’re back in Earth’s system. Abel immediately brings up Neptune on-screen; a handful of ships patrol Proteus, no doubt still investigating what happened to the Osiris, but nothing flies anywhere near them.

  “We’re clear,” she says. “Now we use the relay codes. Call Remedy. See if they’ll answer.”

  Abel moves toward the comm panel, but Virginia holds up a hand. “We do that second. I want to run a search for something first.”

  Taken aback, Noemi says, “Is this really the time?”

  “The time to see if Ludwig managed to steal the new, genetically manipulated form of Cobweb they used to attack your planet, to help Remedy find a cure?” Virginia raises her eyebrows. “Uh, yeah.”

  “What if they haven’t found it?”

  Abel considers this. Given the Razers’ ability to obtain virtually any information or materials they desire, generally without being caught, I predict their efforts have proved successful, or will in the near future. Very few obstacles stand in a Razer’s way—as I think Virginia would agree.

  Her tongue sticks out of the corner of her mouth as she works. “All right, now what?”

  “Now we send out a relay code,” Noemi says. “One that should signal all of Remedy to listen to our message, and join forces.”

  “Oh, we’re going to call the terrorists!” Virginia’s smile is stiff, deliberately fake. “What jolly good fun.”

  “Not everyone in Remedy is a terrorist. Even some of the ones who are—” Noemi remembers Riko lying on the floor of the Osiris, wondering what she’d been fighting, and what she’d been fighting for. Those aren’t questions you want to leave unanswered to the end. “—They’ve had it hard. And if they save Genesis, I think that makes up for a lot.”

  Virginia doesn’t look convinced, but she turns the console over to Abel, who memorized the relay code. He begins inputting it, saying, “After the relay codes, I’ll send a second message to Ephraim. He’s the one member of Remedy we’ll all agree on trusting.”

  It jolts Noemi to realize that she’ll actually get to see Ephraim Dunaway again. Every aspect of her freedom on this side of the Genesis Gate strikes her anew, now that she has the time to consider it. There are so many people I want to talk to. So many places I want to go.

  But Genesis has to come first.

  Within minutes, a return message chimes. Noemi wants to cheer. “Remedy?”

  “Sort of,” Abel says, putting the signal through to the main screen. There, larger than life, are Ephraim, Harriet, and Zayan, all together on the bridge of what looks to be a small ship, each one of them smiling.

  “You found her!” Harriet cries, waving. “Hullo, Noemi!”

  “Hi.” Noemi barely gets the word out; her throat tightens from the sheer joy of seeing these lost friends once more. Traveling to the rest of the galaxy as a free person rather than as a prisoner—it’s the greatest exhilaration she knows. It’s no wonder she had so much trouble forgetting and moving on. Who would ever want to forget a universe so much bigger, bolder, and richer with possibility?

  Ephraim says, “Glad you’re all right, Genesis girl. I’m afraid I wasn’t able to get any relay codes—”

  “We obtained them ourselves.” Abel sounds pleased with himself, but the glance he gives Noemi makes it clear he’s proud of her, too. “We’ve sent them out. Hopefully, Remedy ships will soon respond.”

  The three people on the screen look at one another with mingled amazement and amusement. “That’s all well and good,” Zayan says, “but we dug up a few ships of our own.”

  Noemi frowns. “What do you mean?”

  “We called for the Vagabonds, and they came. They’ve brought medical personnel and drugs and—well, and themselves.” Harriet holds out her hand as she steps away, allowing the Persephone to see what’s on their ship’s screen. An entire flotilla of vessels hovers in space around them—no, an entire fleet. Are those dozens of ships, or more than a hundred?

  Slowly, Noemi rises to her feet. “They came,” she murmurs. “You told them what Earth did to Genesis, and the Vagabonds rose up.”

  Ephraim nods with satisfaction. “The chain reaction has just begun.”

  30

  THE VAGABOND FLEET HAS ASSEMBLED NEAR THE planetoid Pluto, a location of which Abel approves. It has several advantages: isolation, relative inattention from Earth, and at this point in Pluto’s orbit, not too great a distance from the Genesis Gate. It is an ideal place to hide, an even
better place from which to strike.

  Although he’d been able to extrapolate the size of the fleet from the image shown before, the impact of the assembled ships is far greater in person. More than a hundred Vagabond craft cruise in loose formations, all of them brilliantly, individually decorated by the people who work and live within. A quick scan reveals an ore hauler with Celtic knots in vivid green; another, smaller one with Sioux patterns in black, beige, red, and turquoise; and one tiny cruiser painted to look like a turtle. While many of the ships are small, not even as large as the Persephone, others reach impressive sizes; Abel even spots a few freighters, modified with extensive armaments.

  Noemi notices the weapons, too. “That’s some pretty heavy firepower,” she says from her place beside him on the bridge. “Those modifications show some wear. They didn’t do this just to help Genesis.”

  “Hardly.” Abel is aware his voice has taken on the tone humans call dry. “While most Vagabonds perform honest work, there are bands of self-described privateers. They get vague licenses from marginal authorities on colony worlds that purportedly allow them to search other ships and ‘reclaim’ any unauthorized cargo.”

  Her eyes get big. “Wait—you mean they’re pirates?”

  “Some would call them that. Others would call them heroic for their defiance of Earth’s supremacy.”

  “What would you call them?” Noemi asks.

  “That depends on the ship in question. These vessels appear to be from the Krall Consortium, the largest of the organized ‘free trading’ groups—known for rampant thievery, but also for avoiding loss of life.”

  “Thieves but not murderers.” She looks toward the ceiling, maybe to God. “I guess right now we have to take what allies we can get.”

  Abel considers her philosophical acceptance useful, as Remedy ships have also begun to arrive. They’re not as disparate as the motley Vagabond crews; these are mostly older Earth troopships or medical scows, one is even a retrofitted Damocles. Remedy prefers ships that were built to fight, though from the sight of them, the ships haven’t seen combat in many years. Probably the Remedy fighters haven’t seen large-scale combat ever. But they’re here because they’re hungry for battle—for the kind of conflict that will end their status as terrorists and turn them into a true army.