Virginia has remained at her console almost the entire time, searching for the info packet the Razers had promised her—if they were able to get it, which at this point Abel surmises they haven’t. Humans are slow to give up hope. He thinks she hasn’t even been listening until she interjects, “You’re asking who your allies are? You’ve got a bigger problem.”
Abel doesn’t immediately grasp her point, but Noemi must already have been considering the issue. “Nobody’s in charge.”
At that, Virginia finally looks up, a strange smile on her face. “You’d better figure that out, quick. Or else the ship with the biggest guns is going to figure it out for you.” A light on her console flickers, and she claps her hands together. “Oh, Ludwig, you flashiest of flashes, you!”
Noemi hurries to Virginia’s side. “The new form of Cobweb—you’ve got it?” They marvel at the screen as though they can devise a cure just from looking at the viral structure, which even Abel himself couldn’t do, but sometimes humans simply like to look at evidence of their accomplishments.
He, however, remains focused on the problem Virginia has highlighted. “We should call a meeting of all the captains, of both the Remedy ships and the Vagabond fleet.” He may not understand the nuances and illogicality of human political thought, but he was programmed with basic tactics. “With Ephraim, Harriet, and Zayan to back us up, we should be able to assert that much authority. Afterward—”
Noemi finishes the thought for him. “I guess we’ll see.”
The next hour brings a few happy reunions—Harriet and Zayan running back onto the Persephone bridge, declaring themselves home; Ephraim scooping Noemi, then Virginia, up in his arms until their feet don’t touch the ground—but the impending meeting, and potential battle, occupies the largest part of Abel’s thoughts. To judge by his friends’ jittery, uneven energy, they, too, are worried. More Remedy ships appear every few minutes, which on some levels is encouraging. This is truly a potential war fleet, one that would give even Earth pause.
If they can avoid internal power struggles, he thinks, the next few days could change the course of galactic history.
Both Abel and Noemi would’ve preferred to hold the meeting aboard the Persephone, but it’s not large enough to house a gathering of more than one hundred Remedy leaders and Vagabond pilots. The biggest vessel of the fleet is the Krall Consortium’s flagship, the Katara, and so that’s where everyone is headed. (The Persephone is at least given the prestige of docking rights on the Katara; most captains have to take single-pilot craft over instead.)
“Couldn’t we just, you know, interface via comms?” Virginia seems uncomfortable not relying on technology. “Everybody has to be in the same room?”
Harriet nods firmly. “Comms can be hacked. Voice messages can be faked. Back in the early days, Vagabonds sometimes had it rough telling the true from the false. Person-to-person talk, though—that you can prove. No Vagabond would negotiate something this important any other way.”
With a shrug, Virginia says, “I guess if we run into trouble, we’ve got the galaxy’s most badass mech here to help us out.”
Abel freezes, but his friends don’t catch it right away. “What trouble?” Harriet folds her arms. “You think all Vagabonds are criminals, don’t you? Just like you pampered prats on Cray—”
“Hey,” Noemi interjects. “Could we not have all the planets fighting among themselves here on our own bridge? Earth sets us all up not to trust one another. We have to do better than that.”
The others nod, but Zayan’s expression has become confused. “Wait a second. We have a mech to help us out? Where?”
Virginia claps one hand over her mouth. Ephraim, who doesn’t understand as much of the context, simply points at Abel. Both Harriet’s and Zayan’s eyes go wide. The secret Abel’s kept so long is out.
“I ought to have told you long ago,” he says. “I’m a special prototype of the late Burton Mansfield, with capabilities and intelligence beyond that of any other mech currently in production.” Once he would’ve said in existence, but Gillian’s further experiments make him wonder.
Zayan stares. “You’re a mech? You?”
After a long moment, Harriet laughs. “You’re putting us on, right?”
“He’s telling the truth.” Noemi, at Abel’s side, puts one hand on his arm. “It doesn’t make him any less a person than you or me.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Zayan says, then shakes his head. “You can’t be a mech. You don’t act like one—except for the thing where you’re really good at equations in your head, and being really strong, and oh my God you’re a mech.”
“Mechs with full personhood remain rare,” Abel explains. “I’m almost certainly unique at this time, though I expect others to follow. If it takes you some time to adjust to this, I fully understand—but I hope you’ll both remain crew members and friends.”
Zayan and Harriet share a bewildered look, one that lasts long enough for Abel to wonder whether they’ll abandon ship at their next opportunity. Slowly, however, Harriet begins to nod. “You’re a good captain. That’s the main thing. We’ll figure out the rest.”
“We’re still on board,” Zayan promises. He doesn’t hold out his hand to shake; instead, he gets back to work, the best proof he could offer that the two of them intend to stay with the Persephone—and to learn to understand just what and who Abel really is.
Docking keeps most of them occupied during the next 4.9 minutes. As Zayan brings the ship toward the Katara’s massive bay, Abel’s sharp ears cannot help picking up the quiet conversation between Ephraim and Noemi, when she tells him what became of Riko Watanabe.
“It didn’t have to end like that,” he whispers, more to himself than to Noemi. “I tried to tell her there were other ways to fight. Other ways to live. She wouldn’t listen. No—that’s not right. Riko listened, but she couldn’t hear me, not really.”
This would be a natural segue for Noemi to mention Riko’s doubts at the very end of her life. But she doesn’t. She says only, “She wasn’t in pain for long, and she died bravely.”
From what Abel can see via his peripheral vision, this information comforts Ephraim. Learning of Riko’s doubts would probably have had the opposite effect. Is Noemi’s omission kindness or dishonesty? The two are not as different as Abel has often assumed.
The Katara is shaped much like its namesake, an ancient push-dagger of South Asia: a long, pointed prow in front of a squared-off stern. Its decoration is modest for a Vagabond ship, with only a few black and brown stripes painted along the sides of its dark gold hull. Its grandeur is in its scale, which becomes even more apparent when they enter its docking bay. This space alone is larger than the average spacedock on a planet, much less anything Abel would have anticipated within another ship.
The meeting room isn’t much smaller. It appears to be a cargo hold, one with a catwalk high above the floor. While the majority of the attendees crowd in down below, a handful of individuals have taken their place above. These will be the ones most interested in asserting power. Abel, Noemi, and Ephraim exchange glances before climbing the ladder, claiming their own positions of authority.
Body language alone tells Abel who the captain is, but they walk up to her for introductions anyway: female-presenting, of Northern European ancestry, with a weak chin, shoulder-length blond hair, and exceptionally wide-set green eyes. She seems to recognize them as well, or at least their right to present themselves to her.
“Dagmar Krall,” she says. “Captain of the Katara, leader of the Krall Consortium. And… your host.”
“Any Vagabond knows of Dagmar Krall,” Abel replies, an answer crafted to sound more complimentary than it actually is. He respects this woman’s intelligence, but remains aware of her potential viciousness. “I am Abel, captain of the Persephone, and this is Noemi Vidal, a soldier of Genesis and the person most responsible for calling us together.”
Krall nods, gesturing for a sound module. Noem
i leans closer to Abel. “What do you mean, ‘most responsible’? You called Ephraim and Remedy. Harriet and Zayan called the Vagabonds—I was either trapped in a force field or in a shipwreck the whole time.”
“During your captivity, you used your few moments of communication to summon help for Genesis,” Abel points out. “You thought you were sacrificing your life by doing so. Everything else that has happened flows from your action in that moment. The rest of us have done our parts, but you’re the one who set this in motion.”
His gesture takes in the crowds beneath them, the armada around them.
“Hear and obey!” Dagmar Krall calls through the module. This is a standard Consortium greeting from a captain, not quite as severe as it first sounds. An expectant hush falls. “We have gathered in response to biological warfare against planet Genesis. We’ve accepted Earth’s injustice and tyranny for decades—near on a century, now—but a crime like this cannot go unpunished. If it does, we can never again expect safety, or freedom.”
The speech is stirring. Krall’s rhetorical skills are strong. But Abel doesn’t lose sight of the fact that Krall has never shown herself to be a protector of the innocent. Her hatred of Earth is honest, but she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t also have something to gain.
“What proof do we have that any of this is really happening?” calls someone from below.
Krall swivels the sound module over to Noemi, who doesn’t hesitate. “I’m a soldier of Genesis, sent through the Gate to help my world. That this is Earth’s work was verified by Burton Mansfield himself, shortly before his death.”
Someone on the catwalk mutters, almost below Abel’s range of hearing, “When did he die? Thought it was a long time ago—”
“If you’re asking for solid evidence,” Noemi continues, “no, I can’t show you that right now. Genesis sent me to negotiate with people on Earth who knew exactly what they’d done; I didn’t know I’d have to offer evidence. But if you’ll come through the Genesis Gate—either with a few scouts or as an entire fleet—you’ll have all the proof you need.”
Somebody else shouts, “Why should we believe you?”
To Abel’s surprise, Krall takes the module back. “Why shouldn’t you? There’s nothing to lose by checking for ourselves, and everything to gain. Since when do Vagabonds sit on their hands and refuse to act unless everything’s sure and safe? That’s no way to own the skies.” A few people raise fists; apparently “Own the skies” is a Vagabond saying, a way of claiming their homeless status with pride. Krall adds—in a more ordinary tone of voice, “Besides, some of my captains have been hearing rumors for a couple of months now. Whispers that Earth was going to make a move that would end the Genesis War, and to me, infecting Genesis with Cobweb sounds a whole lot like that kind of move. I believe her. So does Remedy.” With that, she nods toward Ephraim Dunaway.
Ephraim gets a strange look on his face as he realizes he’s become the spokesperson for his entire, leaderless group. Yet he doesn’t hesitate either. “If we travel to Genesis, we could get the proof that will turn the other colony worlds against Earth forever. That’s worth a trip through a Gate, don’t you think?”
Murmurs of assent fill the room. Concern is turning to enthusiasm. At first Abel finds it odd that they’re so easily convinced, but then he realizes, Only those inclined to believe the report made the rendezvous to begin with. The doubters will of course remain far away from any potential uprising.
Noemi gestures for the module, which Ephraim hands over with what looks like relief. “We don’t have much time. Genesis was already suffering terribly when I left—what, five days ago? Six days? I’ve been on too many planets to tell.” A few people laugh knowingly; this is a problem Vagabonds are used to. “My planet is weak, and Earth knows it. They must be planning to invade within a week or two. We can’t afford to wait.”
Krall claims the module again. “The longer we stay here, the better chance we have of Earth finding us. My Consortium declares itself for Genesis. Who’s with us?”
Cheers fill the room. Noemi smiles at Abel, elated. He understands her emotion, but is also very aware of the greater authority Dagmar Krall has just claimed. As long as Krall intends to help Genesis, however, he will not object.
Another voice from below rises over the last of the applause. “A fleet this big, Earth’s bound to see us headed for the Gate. What’s going to stop them from coming after us right away, before we can even get through?”
Noemi steps forward. “We’re going to give them their own problem to deal with. We’re about to spill the biggest secret Earth’s ever had.”
Crews assemble. Weapons are double-checked. Engines are put into overdrive. The signal goes out from the Katara, and within 2.1 seconds, every ship in the new fleet zooms straight toward the Genesis Gate.
Not long after the Gate comes within visual range, Virginia sounds the alarm: “Earth defense systems near Mars are starting to look mighty awake.”
“Let’s give them something to wake up to.” Abel nods toward Noemi, who settles herself at the comm station. He enters the codes that will patch them into pan-galactic communications arrays, then nods to Noemi.
It’s time to change the galaxy.
“Citizens of Earth and its allied colony worlds,” Noemi begins. “This is Noemi Vidal of the planet Genesis. The truth about the Cobweb plague—both on Genesis and throughout the galaxy at large—has been kept from you. Attached to this audio message are data files that will explain the disease’s origin, and the method Earth used to distribute the plague to Genesis, an act of biological warfare forbidden by all Earth laws and every pan-galactic accord.”
The Razers provided all of that information. One of those data files is a copy of the new, “improved” Cobweb virus unleashed on Genesis. Another is the assembled research Remedy’s moderate wing has on Cobweb, which goes back to within a year of its emergence.
Noemi continues, “Your leaders will try to tell you these files are forgeries—which is why you should also look at the files that provide the location of another Gate in Earth’s solar system—a secret Gate, one that leads to the planet Haven, a habitable world that’s been kept secret, too. It’s a dangerous planet, for a number of reasons; most human beings can’t land there and survive. But there are ways to make it safe for billions of people someday, ways Earth has hidden from us all. Find that Gate, and you’ll know Earth’s been lying to you. Find Haven, and you’ll know why Earth created Cobweb in the first place. Once you’ve done that, you’ll know this is the truth—about Haven, about Cobweb, and about Genesis. Earth is responsible for all of this. Earth did it all knowingly, and cruelly. But we can undo that damage. We can take back the worlds that belong to us. We have to do it together.”
Abel snaps off the comms. “Full message packet— distributed.”
“That’s it.” Noemi leans back in her chair, almost in a state of shock. “Do you think any of them will believe me?”
“Lots of them won’t,” Virginia says blithely. “But some people are going to investigate. Curious people, people already suspicious of Earth, even bored people. You don’t need many of them to follow the trail before word gets out. Trust me, the leaders of Earth are currently peeing their collective pants.”
Abel understands the colloquialism, but the visual image this presents is… peculiar.
Over the comms comes the voice of Dagmar Krall. “Prepare for Gate transit on our mark.” The specific split-second window for the Persephone appears in green lettering on the vast domed viewscreen; in deference to Noemi’s status as a soldier of Genesis, they’ve been given one of the first berths. Abel inputs it into navigation himself.
“Here we go,” he says, hands on the controls. “Ready?”
Ephraim nods. Virginia gives him a thumbs-up. But they all look to Noemi for the final word. She lifts her chin and says, “Ready.”
The Katara’s signal comes through. Abel pushes the Persephone forward. The shimmering pool at the cente
r of the Gate reflects his ship’s teardrop shape as they move closer and closer, until light shatters. Lines disintegrate. Reality itself fractures around them, then suddenly snaps back into place. Other Vagabond ships appear nearby, a few of them streaking on ahead. In the far distance shines the small dot that represents their destination; Abel zooms in to reveal a soft green planet wrapped in wispy white clouds.
“Genesis,” Ephraim whispers. “I never thought I’d see this.”
Nor did Abel. He realizes that Noemi is the first person to have set foot on every single inhabited world in the galaxy: Genesis, Kismet, Cray, Stronghold, Earth, and Haven. Within a few hours, he’ll become the second. The Loop will be closed; they will have come full circle at last.
When he looks over at Noemi, her expression is grave. “I had to make that transmission, but—we’ve shown our hand. Earth has to act now. Sooner or later, they’re going to strike.”
“They were going to strike anyway,” he says.
“But sooner now.” Noemi closes her eyes as if in prayer.
31
HOME.
Genesis grows larger on the viewscreen, like a flower blooming. The vast green continents take shape—the Eastern Peninsula, the Far Southern Islands, all the places she learned as a little child in school. It seems to shimmer before her eyes, but maybe that’s only because she’s blinking back tears. I never thought I’d see my home again.
All the unhappiness she’s faced here can never change her love for her world.
“We have Genesis ships incoming,” Zayan announces. Then he frowns. “Only about ten or eleven, though.”
That’s probably as much of a patrol as they can muster in their weakened state. Noemi aches for her broken planet’s lost pride as she goes to comms. “Genesis patrol! This is Noemi Vidal, seeking landing clearance.”