27

BELLUM SANCTUM IS EATING NOEMI’S BRAIN. OR BURNING it. Consuming it, anyway, until she can hardly think about anything else.

There’s nothing worse than knowing a disaster is coming while having absolutely no idea how to stop it.

“Tell the media!” Virginia suggests as she prepares a small vial of nanotech fluid that—in theory—might help keep Noemi’s breakdowns at bay. She wants to be as functional as possible before the Apollo Acestor takes off. “Say, hey, Genesis, your Council’s leading you straight to hell! Or does the Council control the media?”

“They don’t. We have a free press. But who’s going to believe me?” Noemi settles herself onto the Apollo Acestor’s small biobed. “As far as most people on Genesis are considered, I’m not even human anymore. They wouldn’t trust me if I pointed out the sun is in the sky—much less if I tried to tell them about something like this.”

Ephraim takes the vial from Virginia, pops it into a syringe, and injects it into Noemi’s arm. It doesn’t hurt, save for a faint cold sting. “Why can’t your Captain Baz report it? They’d believe her, right?”

“Not now that she’s violated military security. If anyone found out what she’d done, she’d be considered an oath breaker. On Genesis, we don’t look kindly on those.” Noemi senses the fluid course through her; internal sensors track its passage, which seems like unnecessary information, almost creepy to know. More welcome is the return of her balance. Although Ephraim and Virginia warned her that the nanotech fluid is only a temporary fix at best, she’s grateful for any break in the misery.

“So, you have a free press, but nobody’s going to talk to that free press, because nobody’s going to listen to anybody they don’t want to believe anyway,” Virginia says. “Am I getting the picture here?”

“Unfortunately.” Noemi’s heart sinks. Is Genesis nothing like the world she grew up believing in?

Then Ephraim says, “It’s not so different on Stronghold—or on Earth, or Cray, or anywhere else. Humans in general tend to hear only what they want to hear, and nobody wants to hear about a damned doomsday weapon.”

Okay, so, Genesis isn’t awful. Humans are awful. Noemi sighs. Maybe she should be glad not to be entirely human anymore. Maybe Abel’s arrogance is more like common sense.

Maybe Abel can help.

Abel was the one individual in the galaxy capable of turning that engine back on. Turning it off again might not be as dangerous—but it is hard to be sure. He’s certainly the only one who’s had substantial experience with the engine in the past couple of decades.

From the moment Noemi learned she was an exile from Genesis, she’s known she wanted to find Abel again. In some ways they parted badly—she shouldn’t have said that, about him making decisions for her, and she suspects he took it as something far uglier than she intended.

But she believes in Abel. She trusts his love for her. Above all, she can count on him to do the right thing.

So once the Apollo Acestor has left Genesis, they need to find Abel. However, she also needs a plan of her own. It’s a big galaxy, Abel won’t know she’s looking for him, and locating him might take more time than Earth has left. What can she do?

“We have to figure out some way to warn Earth,” Noemi says. This is treason, and every word of it stings. But Bellum Sanctum is treason, too, and infinitely worse—because it betrays every principle her world was founded upon. “The Vagabonds call me ‘Vidal of Genesis.’ So people out in the galaxy already know my voice. So maybe Earth’s leaders would listen to me before they threw me in jail. And maybe they can figure out a way to stop this thing.”

Virginia and Ephraim exchange looks across the dim, cramped sick bay. Finally, Virginia says, “I’d call that our best plan, if it weren’t our only plan.”

Noemi hops off the biobed, grateful to feel semi-functional again. “Then let’s get moving.”

The next few minutes pass in a blur of systems checks. All three of them are double-checking the docking bay, when the thumping of footsteps on the gangway makes them all look up. Harriet Dixon and Zayan Thakur rush in, and even in the shadowy bay, she can see that they appear worried.

From the air lock door, Ephraim calls, “You guys coming along? Thought you were settling here for good.”

“That’s the plan,” Harriet says in a rush. “We still hope we can settle on Genesis someday, but that’s not why we’re here.”

Looking grave, Zayan says, “Abel’s in trouble.”

“I was getting to that!” Harriet protests.

“Wait, wait.” Noemi steadies herself with a hand against the wall. The urge to find him again spikes within her, almost painful in its intensity. “What do you mean, Abel’s in trouble? Did he try to come back to Genesis?”

It feels good to think he might’ve risked everything to be with her again. It shouldn’t.

“He didn’t try to come back. He’s being forced to,” Harriet says. “See, Vagabonds know other Vagabonds. We help each other out with deep space repairs, information about routes, that kind of thing.”

Zayan cuts in. “We know a guy who knows a guy who knows someone on the Katara. And the word is that Dagmar Krall gave Abel a place in the Consortium, but Genesis realized he was hiding with them, and the Elder Council demanded that Krall hand Abel over at once, to face trial on Genesis for Akide’s murder. Otherwise their alliance was over.”

Noemi’s voice shakes as she concludes, “And Krall chose the alliance.”

They’re going to bring Abel back here to kill him.

I will never let that happen.

But Harriet surprises her. “No. I mean, yes, Krall chose the alliance, but another friend of ours who mines on the outer reaches of the Earth system said that the Genesis ship transporting him ran into trouble and is broadcasting throughout the whole system that another ship stole their prisoner.”

“You mean Abel escaped?” Noemi’s relief at the thought outweighs the flash of disappointment that she now has no excuse to find him again.

Zayan shakes his head sadly. “Nope. He didn’t escape. Remedy took him prisoner instead.”

“Abel’s not having a great week,” Virginia says.

The joke falls flat. Noemi doesn’t care. What is going on?

“I don’t understand,” Ephraim protests. “Remedy is allied with Genesis! We’re not their enemies, at any rate. So why would anyone who belongs to Remedy attack a Genesis ship to get Abel? Nobody in Remedy has any motive to do it.”

“Someone clearly does.” Noemi straightens as the pieces fall into place in her mind. “There are Remedy members trying to survive on Haven. A lot of them need medical treatment.”

“How is that a motive for Remedy to go after Abel?” Virginia says.

“Think it through.” For days, Noemi has felt off balance, confused, unsure. But now she’s absolutely certain, and as horrible as the situation is, at least she finally knows what’s happening, and what she has to do. “There’s only one person in the galaxy who wants Abel in custody more than Genesis does. Only one other person who’d put a price on his head.”

Virginia’s eyes widen. “Gillian frickin’ Shearer.”

Harriet covers her face with her hands; both Zayan and Ephraim groan. It’s all too clear what’s happened to Abel—and the terrible fate he’s about to face.

“We have to get to Abel, as fast as we possibly can,” Noemi says. Her own fate doesn’t matter now. The danger doesn’t matter either, because Abel can be in no greater danger than he already is. But that doesn’t mean she can forget everything else. “The fastest way back to Haven is through the Earth system, and we were headed there anyway. We can warn them about Bellum Sanctum on the way.”

“Bellum Sanctum?” Zayan asks. “What in the worlds is that?”

“Oh, we are in an entire vortex of trouble, my friend,” Virginia replies. “Explanations later. For now, just go with it.”

Noemi hardly hears any of this. Her mind’s racing too fast, fueled by desperation. “We’ll send a message in the Earth system. Multiple messages, to every government center on Earth, and the offworld bases. We’ll even warn the mining stations near the asteroid belt. We can do all of that on our way to the Haven Gate. And we’ll make sure they believed our message when we check in on our way back, after rescuing Abel.”

She knows it might not be that easy. If there’s already been time for the news of Abel’s capture to have reached Genesis, then there’s surely been time for Gillian Shearer to have wiped Abel’s soul.

Still, she has to try. Even if there’s only one chance in a million to save Abel, Noemi has to give him that chance.

When she lifts her head, she sees that same conviction reflected in every person around her. Abel means more to her than to anyone else here—but he means a lot, to everyone. They all want to rescue him. They’re all in this together.

Harriet and Zayan exchange glances before Zayan says, “If you think you could use a couple of extra hands—”

“We’re leaving immediately,” Ephraim says. “It’s going to be crowded, but if you’re ready, let’s go.”

“We’re ready,” Harriet says, clasping Zayan’s hand.

Virginia hurries into the ship; no doubt she’s headed to choose her ideal spot on the bridge. Harriet and Zayan follow. Noemi hears Zayan mutter under his breath, “I told you we should’ve packed some clothes.”

They fly through the Earth system at top speed, launching beacons and sending signals every chance they get. The Apollo Acestor isn’t as fast as the Persephone, and it doesn’t have as many signaling options, but this is the only ship they have. That makes it the only chance Earth has.

The only chance Abel has.

I’m coming, Noemi thinks over and over, between message packets, between dizzy spells. Please hang on. I’m coming as fast as I can.

The waiting might be easier if she felt like her warnings were getting anywhere. She’d like to think that they’re doing some good. But if anyone from Earth attempts to answer their messages, the Apollo Acestor gets no sign of it.

“I don’t like this,” Ephraim mutters as they soar toward Neptune and the Haven Gate. “Noemi—I know how important saving Abel is to you. It’s important to me, too. That doesn’t change the fact that saving Earth has to be our priority.”

“I agree.” Noemi keeps staring at the viewscreen, as though the power of her concentration could move this ship faster. She feels as if she could push it past the speed of light. “But if Earth won’t listen to the messages, how much more luck do you think we’d have in person?”

“You’ve got a point.” Ephraim sighs heavily. “I hope to hell they’re listening.”

The cold horror of suspense doesn’t dissipate until they reach Neptune, where, amid the frenzy around the Haven Gate, the Apollo Acestor slips through easily. They’re not bothered on their way through the system or landing on the planet either. At least we caught a break there, Noemi thinks. We deserve at least one.

She’d known that settlers were descending on Haven, but she hadn’t realized how quickly they’d organize into, well, cities. The Apollo Acestor lands at a makeshift pad, with several individuals apparently hard at work already. A young man with an Afro hurries up with a dataread in his hands and a grin on his face. “Welcome to Haven! We’re helping people get settled—trying to spread everyone around—”

“That’s a great idea,” Virginia says as they all hurry off the ship, hyperwarm jackets sealed against the cold. “But we’re just visiting.”

He blinks. “We already have tourists? Wow.”

“Not that kind of visit.” Noemi adjusts her holster, feels the reassuring heft of her blaster. “We’ve got to get into the Winter Castle. More to the point, we’ve got to get someone out of it. And this time, I’d rather not have to fight Queens and Charlies the entire way in.”

Although the young man still looks flummoxed, he directs them to the “hospital,” a hastily put-together place, not unlike the triage stations sometimes set up on base after especially devastating battles. Apparently the head of the hospital handles negotiations with the Winter Castle.

That’s mildly surprising—she still doesn’t understand how these “negotiations” work—but Noemi gets the shock of her life when she sees who one of the volunteer nurses is.

“Noemi!” Delphine cries, hurrying toward her with open arms. Noemi hugs her back, almost on autopilot. It’s not like they became close on the Osiris, exactly, but it is sort of good to see her again.

“What are you doing out here?” Noemi asks.

Delphine makes a face. “Getting out from under Gillian Shearer’s thumb. Trying to learn how to do something useful.” Then, to Noemi’s astonishment, she adds, “You’ve come for Abel, haven’t you?”

“You’ve met Abel? You’ve seen him?” Noemi’s heart sinks. “How long has he been in there?”

“I saw him early yesterday, when the Remedy ship returned. Captain Fouda and the head of the hospital did a lot of negotiating before allowing Abel through to the Winter Castle.”

“Fouda?” Noemi says in amazement. “That son of a bitch! We saved him!”

“I know,” Delphine says miserably. “And I don’t agree with exchanging people—even robot people—for some sort of bargain, like they’re just goods to be traded. I think it’s wrong. But I’m not the one in charge, and we need so much medicine here, and a couple of Tares aren’t working properly—excuse me, what are you doing with that medkit?”

“Using it.” Ephraim’s gaze takes in the dozens of patients lying on cots and stretchers. “I’m a doctor, and one who knows a lot about the Cobweb protocol.”

“A doctor?” Delphine says, almost reverently. “We need real doctors. I think we only have three of them here, and hundreds of patients.”

The tall man who must be in charge has overheard and steps into the conversation. “Thank God we have another physician here. Anything you could do—”

“I’m all yours the minute we get Abel out, which hopefully won’t be long.” Ephraim’s loyalty surprises and moves Noemi, and she smiles for the first time in what feels like forever. As he finishes making notes on a patient’s chart, he turns to her and asks, “So you say you know how to get into the Winter Castle?”

Noemi looks toward the transport doors she saw last time. “Last time I got into the Winter Castle the same way the mechs got out. So if we’re going to try that, we need Shearer to send out her mechs.” She turns to the head of the hospital. “Do you think a few Vagabonds might be willing to help us rescue our friend by causing a distraction?”

Although she expects an argument, the tall man simply inclines his head in respect. “I recognize your voice now, Vidal of Genesis. You gave us this world. Giving you a distraction in return is the least we can do.”

Not only do they get the promise of a distraction but they also get the loan of a few snowmobiles. Once they’ve got these in position, Ephraim starts counting things off. “Okay, Harriet and Zayan, you’ll be a team. Noemi, you stick with me and Virginia—oh, holy hell, Virginia!”

Virginia, who’s refastening her boots, looks up at him in confusion. “What?”

“You—Harriet and Zayan, too, I think—” Ephraim’s eyes are wide. “Have you already had Cobweb? If not, Haven’s going to kill you. The entire place is toxic! Me, I had Cobweb as a kid, but if you haven’t, this is bad.”

Harriet gasps, and Virginia puts her fingers to her throat as though to check her pulse. Noemi makes a gesture meant to communicate, Calm down, guys. “It takes two or three days for the toxicity to sink in. The Remedy fighters were fine at first. And as far as I know, the effects wear off after leaving the planet.”

Ephraim still doesn’t look happy. “How do you guys feel?”

“Fine, I guess?” Harriet squares her shoulders, visibly summoning courage. “It’s got to be a short stay, but that’s true regardless, right?”

Ephraim nods reluctantly. “Okay. We break into two teams.”

“Three,” Noemi says. She may be sick and not quite herself, but she’s still the military strategist here. “You guys should go in teams of two, because you need backup. But I’ve been here before. I can go alone. And the more teams we have, the faster we’ll be able to find Abel.”

More teams are better. Also, the others don’t need to drag around someone whose inner circuitry might go haywire at any time, possibly betraying their position and getting them killed.

She watches the other four glance at one another; they’re not totally buying her reasoning. But no one protests. Instead, Zayan says, “You’re the soldier, so your plan goes.”

Virginia checks her weapon. “Three teams. Let’s do it.”

Noemi speaks into the comm unit linked to the Vagabonds who’ve agreed to help: “Flight team, go.”

Ship engines hiss and hum in the distance, sending up sprays of snow on the horizon. As they stand by their snowmobiles, they watch five volunteer Vagabond ships rocket toward the Winter Castle, flying high enough to avoid hitting it, but low enough to set off every proximity alert in the place. Even at this distance, they can hear the faint wail of the faraway klaxons.

As the ships spin back around to buzz the castle one more time, some of the ground-level hatches open. Queens and Charlies zoom out on snowmobiles, their eyes raised to the sky, their weapons aimed upward. The scanner counts off the meters as Noemi’s teammates get on their three snowmobiles and fire them up. Virginia rides behind Ephraim; Zayan holds on to Harriet’s waist; and Noemi takes her own.

Noemi raises her hand and chops down through the air: Go.

Ten minutes later, creeping down a corridor with her back sliding along one wall, Noemi thinks, Why does the Winter Castle have to be so damned big?

The place is beautiful in the same ornate, overdone manner as the Osiris. Instead of the golds, turquoises, and siennas of that ship, the Winter Castle is decorated purely in white, silver, and pale blue. The designers must have taken their inspiration from snowflakes, because every window is hexagonal, as are the floor plans of many rooms. Intricate filigree decorates even the service corridors, adding traces of sparkle. Noemi can only imagine the ornate splendor of the bedrooms and amusement areas where the rich and powerful were meant to play.

Her attention to these details doesn’t make her forget the small security cameras every fifty meters or so. She just has to hope Gillian and her mechs are so caught up in fending off the Vagabonds outside that they aren’t paying any attention to what’s going on inside.

Footsteps around the next corner make Noemi freeze. She readies her blaster, thankful that at the moment she’s stable and steady. Take me to Gillian Shearer’s laboratory, she rehearses in her head. Do it, and nobody has to get killed. Nobody’s going to get killed regardless, but whoever’s in the next room doesn’t have to know that.

Better to choose the moment of confrontation rather than wait to be surprised. She takes a deep breath and spins around the corner. “Take me to—Abel!”

“I realized someone had managed to get in.” Abel smiles. His face is alight with relief, and something else—it looks somewhat like satisfaction. “I hoped it would be you.”

It’s him. It’s really him. He must’ve found another way to escape when Gillian was called away to deal with the Vagabonds. And he didn’t pin himself to the ceiling this time. Abel’s all right!

Noemi flings her arms around him in relief so profound it feels almost like rapture. “How did you manage to hold Shearer off? Are you okay?”

“I’m better than I’ve been in a long time.” He embraces her, too, gingerly at first, then more firmly. “Are you alone?”

“No. Let me signal the others and we can get out of here.” Swiftly, Noemi hits the code on her comm unit that will signal the other teams to hurry back to their snowmobiles. The signal doesn’t go through—they’re too deep within—but they should only have to travel another few meters to have better luck. This was all so much easier than she thought it would be; it feels like a miracle.

Except that it’s somehow oddly… off.

“I was delighted when I saw you on security cams,” Abel says, tilting his head. “But I wasn’t sure you’d ever come back to Haven.”

“Don’t you get it?” Noemi asks. “We found out you were in trouble! I’d never leave you in danger. In fact, I don’t think I want to leave you at all, ever. Besides, there’s something about—about Bellum…”

Her voice falters as she trails off. Abel’s reaction feels wrong to her. He’s focused on different things than she’d expect. Why?

For reassurance, she looks into Abel’s blue eyes.

No. She’s looking into blue eyes.

But this isn’t Abel.