32

“DO YOU BELIEVE YOUR CAPTAIN’S COMMENT WAS A compliment?” Abel says one hour after Noemi’s hearing, as he walks with her by the river with their friends. Only a handful of citizens are in the nearby area; what must normally be a bustling marketplace is quiet. It’s been such a brief time since Remedy and the Vagabond fleet came through the Genesis Gate. While there’s now medicine to help the sickest, recovery will take more than a few days—it will be weeks, or even months.

Most of the onlookers appear more weary than sick. Although most of these individuals gape at the outworlder newcomers and the now-infamous mech, Abel thinks some of the stares are… not unfriendly.

“I hope it’s a compliment,” Noemi replies. Her face is downcast, her energy low. Losing her military commission must be profoundly affecting for her, in much the same way that Mansfield’s death is for him. The authorities that once governed their lives have vanished; the sudden freedom is both beautiful and bewildering. “How would you take it?”

Perhaps humor would be effective. “If the comment were made about me? With my superior strength, intelligence, and reflexes, it would make sense for a religious person to pray for divine help against me. They’d stand very little chance without divine intervention.”

“Mansfield never did install modesty, did he?” Her dark eyes sparkle with suppressed laughter. His distraction is proving successful.

So Abel continues the joke with an exaggerated shrug. “What would be the point?”

She looks up at the sky, shaking her head as if in dismay, but he feels the affection radiating from her.

He continues, “But if I look at the comment as one made about you… I believe my analysis would be the same.”

“What?” she teases. “You mean I’m just as much of a badass as the ultimate mech in all creation?”

“…You’re close.”

“Close?” Noemi raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I can see I’m going to have to prove my strength.”

“I look forward to it,” he says.

“You know, I kind of thought it would be dull here,” Virginia says. She’s cleaned her baggy orange jumpsuit and added a green Genesis flag at the collar; like the others, she strolls a few paces behind Noemi and Abel, taking in this new, unfamiliar world. “You know, all virtue and straight lines and taupe.”

“Why taupe?” Ephraim, who described himself as “too tired to sleep” after his first hospital shift in Goshen, is by Virginia’s side. Coming from the severity of Stronghold, he must find Genesis even more surprising. His gaze moves from object to object, taking it all in. “Is there something especially virtuous about taupe?”

Virginia shrugs. “Nah. Just boring, like virtue often is. In other words, nothing like this.”

She stops in her tracks and spreads open her arms, taking in the whole vista before them: the winding river sparkling in the morning sun, the cobblestone paths, the brightly canopied booths. The view is both stately and pastoral, a scene of beauty and harmony almost unmatched in the galaxy.

“This is what I thought Kismet might be like, before I ever went,” Harriet says. She’s woven green ribbons through her braids as a sign of solidarity with the people of Genesis.

Zayan leans on the wooden railing of the small bridge they’re crossing and sighs. “I never even thought Kismet could be like this. I thought this kind of life was—only in the past, or in fairy tales.” Virginia, who might be expected to scoff at such fulsome praise, simply nods. Even in its battered state, Genesis has overcome her cynicism.

No wonder they fought for this, Abel thinks. No wonder Earth was so determined to have it. But if Earth had claimed it, the beauty would’ve been destroyed—soon, and forever.

“’Scuse me?” says a tiny voice. Abel looks over to see a child, male-presenting, approximately four years of age. He wears the loose pants and shirt that seem to be common for children on this planet. The little boy takes a step back, as if intimidated by the attention he sought, but he manages to say, “Are you the good mech?”

Is that how he’s become known? Abel must be careful with his answer. The boy’s parents are a few paces away, wide-eyed at their child’s audacity. He drops to one knee so that he’s at the little boy’s level and puts things in terms he might understand. “I’m the mech who came here with the medicine, yes.”

“What’s your name?”

“Abel. What’s yours?”

“I’m Tangaroa.” The name is of Maori origin, unsurprising given the tattoos on the father’s face. “You don’t look like a machine.”

“I don’t feel like one either,” Abel explains. The child-psychology information in his databanks tells him that explanations should be kept simple. It didn’t work with Simon—but Simon wasn’t truly a child, only the remnant of one. This simple curiosity, the chance to grow and learn day by day: That’s what Simon Shearer was robbed of, and it was a large part of what destroyed him. Abel finds it comes naturally, speaking gently to this boy, and that somehow it helps soothe the guilt he still feels about being unable to save Simon. “That’s because I’m not entirely mechanical. I’m part human, too.”

“What parts are human?” With wide brown eyes, Tangaroa avidly studies Abel’s face. “Is it the nose?”

Abel laughs. “Here, see for yourself.” He leans forward slightly, ducking his head and trusting the little boy to know what to do next. As anticipated, Tangaroa puts his hand out to touch Abel’s nose, then laughs out loud. Behind him, the parents smile. A few of the other passersby have stopped to watch this interaction as well, and Noemi is beaming. He has the definite sense that this is going well.

“That nose is kinda superhuman if you ask me,” Virginia says. “I know you’re too objective to take offense at this, Abel, but you’ve got a considerable schnoz there.”

“Just like my creator’s.” Mansfield’s features live on within Abel’s.

Tangaroa looks up at Virginia, then at Noemi, then at Ephraim, with new interest. “Are you mechs, too?”

“Nope,” Ephraim says. “One hundred percent human. But I’m from another planet. Have you ever heard of Stronghold?” Tangaroa nods eagerly. His class must be studying the other worlds of the Loop in school.

“We’re from Earth,” Harriet chimes in, taking Zayan’s hand. “But we live as Vagabonds and travel all over the galaxy.”

“Me, I’m from Cray.” Then Virginia frowns. “I mean, I’m from Earth originally, but I’ve lived on Cray most of my life.”

A woman a few years older than Noemi hesitantly asks, “Is Cray really just one big supercomputer?”

“Mostly!” Virginia agrees with cheer.

Then the few people by the river are all congregating in this one spot, wanting to hear more about Cray and Stronghold and everywhere else in the greater galaxy. Ephraim gets caught up in describing his world’s deep mines, while Virginia clearly enjoys talking about the Razers’ secret lab. It’s Abel himself who explains the newly discovered world, Haven, with its blue pine trees and clouds of bats, and what may be happening there even now. Surely not all the listeners gathered near have fully accepted Abel as a person like themselves… but he sees signs that such acceptance could be possible. A few Remedy members have also begun to mingle with the group, and he’s aware that Vagabonds have put in at ports across the planet. Genesis is still too battered to look far into the future, and the threat posed by Earth is very real—but already he can determine that the planet will never be as closed off again. Other humans will find their way here; they’ll shape Genesis and be shaped by it.

Could that be true for someone who isn’t human?

Abel looks over at Noemi, who’s forgotten her sadness. He’s been summoned to a meeting that night to answer questions, but now he can ask one of his own.

Maybe his future isn’t out among the stars. Maybe it could be right here.

Darius Akide’s offices are ventilated with natural breezes and illuminated primarily by sunlight. The economy of it is something Abel expected; the beauty of it surprises him.

When he says as much, Akide shakes his head. “That’s one of the differences between mechs and humans. Where you see efficiency, we’re capable of seeing something more.”

Abel takes no offense. As he knows from his initial journey with Noemi, humans require time to fully accept him. “Upon consideration, it makes sense. Even in pure mathematics, the equations that appear ‘beautiful’ are most likely to be true. Beauty is not only a perception; it’s also an indication of simplicity and strength.”

That makes Akide blink, but he says nothing. His eyes narrow as he studies Abel from behind his desk. This allows Abel to study Akide in return. The images of this man in his memory banks are of him in his early twenties, when he was Burton Mansfield’s protégé and friend. One holo showed Akide holding Gillian when she was only four months old. Some of Darius Akide’s theories are woven into Abel’s deepest programming and structures. Perhaps he should feel reverence, meeting someone who is in effect his co-creator.

He does not. Mansfield reserved that reverence—the devotion dictated by Directive One—for himself.

So Abel sees an ordinary human male in late middle age, of African descent and average height (impossible to gauge precisely while the man is sitting). Akide shows signs of recent illness: bloodshot eyes, ashy skin, and slowed reaction time. Yet he has resumed his post, helping to lead a planet in great peril. This is a sign of either great fortitude or great egocentricity.

“According to Vidal’s report, Gilly managed to store her son’s consciousness and transplant it into another mech.” Akide steeples his hands. “One with even more organic components than you have yourself.”

“The transfer wasn’t entirely successful, but it’s impossible to say whether the process is fundamentally flawed, or whether failure was due to premature execution.” He then deliberately uses the same nickname Akide did. This is a connection they share. “Gilly certainly believes herself to have copies of both her son’s consciousness and her father’s. Had she been able to capture me, she would have attempted to transfer Mansfield’s into my body. Given that I am both intact and functioning excellently, complete transfer might well have succeeded.”

Akide shakes his head. “Thank God the Osiris crashed. Their work could’ve proved monstrous. At least it’s been destroyed.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain. They had extensive plans to expand their work on Haven. The so-called Winter Castle may very well have mech labs she’ll be able to use to further her research.” Abel finds the idea of organic mechs highly interesting—something he’d like to investigate himself, for his own purposes—but senses this is unlikely to be a feeling Akide shares.

“Any data you can provide on these plans will be welcome,” Akide says, as if inputting a command into a basic computer. “Visual images, if you can re-create them. I’ll want to research this in much more depth once we’ve made it through this crisis.”

The Vagabond fleet remains assembled above. It has been less than three days since Earth learned of that fleet’s existence and its journey to the Genesis system—and since the galaxy learned of Earth’s deception. Given the amount of time necessary for bureaucratic decision-making and military mobilization, Abel puts the likelihood of a major military operation within the next two days at 81.8 percent.

However, unlike humans, he can be aware of impending danger yet continue to focus on other subjects. “I wished to ask—will any of those who have come to defend Genesis be allowed to remain here?”

Akide nods absently. “The Council has had a preliminary talk. Some form of citizenship for the Vagabonds fighting for us… that may be appropriate. Of course they would have to follow our core philosophies, and we’ll come up with forms for citizenship, but I imagine most of them will consider that a fair trade for a true home.”

Harriet and Zayan might be able to have a place to call their own. Ephraim might choose to open a clinic here. Virginia—no, Virginia is happy on Cray and will certainly return. But even Abel’s selflessness functions can’t outweigh one core thought: He can stay with Noemi. “I would wish to apply.”

“You?” Akide sits upright, startled back into the present. The surprise on his face slowly shifts into disdain. “You are… a piece of machinery. One built to serve humans, and a kind of machine we have no use for here on Genesis. Mechs are forbidden here, for good reason. Vidal may be caught up in her fanciful notions about your ‘soul,’ but no one else is likely to make the same mistake. I’m sure when you process this through your programming, it will make sense to you.”

Abel is still not accepted. He is still less than. Genesis cannot be his home.

Later that night, when Noemi joins him aboard the Persephone, her outrage eclipses his hurt. “Akide said that to you? After what you’ve done for this entire planet? It’s so—ungrateful, so mean—”

“It is a logical extension of his worldview,” Abel says. “It’s not a tragedy, Noemi. I will resume the existence I had before, as a Vagabond. It’s a way of life I enjoy. Granted, if Harriet and Zayan stay here, I’ll have to hire a new crew, but I’m confident other good people can be found.” So many Vagabonds need homes, and as his friends have told him many times, he pays well.

Noemi stands on the other side of the bridge, suddenly awkward. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, then says, “So—you’re hiring?”

Fresh hope floods Abel’s mental processes as powerfully as excess voltage. It’s a state of mind he’s rarely experienced to such a degree. Not since the first time he saw Noemi in her starfighter, flying closer to his ship, about to set him free from three decades’ confinement—

Maybe they’re about to set each other free. “You would leave Genesis?”

She hugs herself; obviously she’s thinking this through at the same moment she says it. “I can’t protect my world in the military anymore. I’ve brought them medicines and allies—I don’t know that there’s anything more I could ever do. And nobody here’s going to miss me that much.” Her smile is crooked. “Maybe we both need a new Directive One, huh?”

Abel nods as he takes a step closer to her. “We can explore the galaxy together.”

“Figure out what we want. Where we want to go. What to fight for.”

She takes one more step—then bounds into Abel’s arms, which are already open and waiting. He swings her around, a human gesture he wouldn’t have thought he was programmed with, and hugs her tightly. Noemi laughs out loud with joy, and everything seems possible—

And that’s when the ship’s communications begin to shriek, an automated siren he’s never heard before.

Noemi’s face goes white as she slides from Abel’s embrace. “That’s the call to arms.”

Earth’s attack has finally come.