Defy the Worlds (Defy the Stars #2)(10)

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry. I’m distracted this morning.”

Mrs. Gatson’s more at ease once she has something to do and no longer has to look at Noemi directly. “No problems on base, I hope?”

Her foster parents know perfectly well that Noemi’s dealt with nothing but problems since her return. This is not a nice subject to discuss. The Gatsons only like to talk about nice things. When Esther was alive—so naturally, easily, genuinely good inside and out—conversations centered on her, and the sense of strain was less. Now every single chat feels like a test Noemi has to pass.

“Everything’s fine,” Noemi says.

Mr. Gatson walks in, and she startles. He looks terrible. He’s pale, visibly sweaty, and shambling along, his legs shaking. “Mary, I’m not—not shaking off that cold.”

Mrs. Gatson doesn’t go to him, but instead gestures to a chair. “I’ll get you some juice,” she replies, voice wavering.

“No, no, let me get it.” Noemi quickly pours a couple of glasses while Mrs. Gatson settles herself beside her husband. “You’re both coming down with something, looks like.”

“You might be next,” Mr. Gatson warns her. “Keep your distance and wash your hands, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.” Noemi gives him the glass and a smile. They do care for her, in their own remote way. They’d never want to see her come to harm.

But it will always be Mr. and Mrs. Gatson, never uncle and aunt, never any nicknames that would acknowledge they’ve spent as much time raising Noemi as her late parents did. They will never light up at the sight of her returning home. They’ll never hug her good-bye.

Mr. Gatson rubs his forehead. “Do we have any ginger tea?”

“I think we’re out, but I could go to the store for some,” Noemi offers. Until she receives her new assignment from Captain Baz, it’s not like she has anyplace more important to be.

“That would be good,” Mrs. Gatson says. That’s about as close as she gets to thank you. There is an unspoken sense from the Gatsons that their foster daughter owes them courtesy and help—it’s the way she earns her keep.

Halfway to the neighborhood market, Noemi begins to realize fewer people than usual are walking along the paths, and only one or two cyclists zip by. Not as many children are playing outdoors. None of this is remarkable, but the quiet that surrounds her makes her feel cut off from the world.

In the market, she finds her way to the tea stall only to learn they’re out of ginger, as well as chamomile and peppermint—all the ones she’d turn to first for someone sick. As she takes up a packet of elderflower tea, a shopper nearby staggers to one side, then sits on the wooden floor heavily, the way people do when they’re sitting so they won’t faint.

“I’m sorry,” the man says, holding up a hand as if to wave off the woman behind the counter who’s hurrying to his side. “Running a fever this morning. Oughtn’t to have chanced it. If I rest for just a couple of minutes—”

Noemi doesn’t hear the rest. She can’t hear anything over the sudden rush of blood in her ears. Her breath catches as she stares at the man’s outstretched hand—and at the telltale white lines snaking across his skin.

“Impossible,” she whispers, but then she remembers the stars that hit Genesis, the ones meant to harm them in a way they couldn’t understand. She understands now.

Immediately she runs through the market, weaving between stalls and carts until she finds the area comm station. Her fingers shake as she inputs the code for Darius Akide’s offices. “Yes, hello, this is Lieutenant Noemi Vidal calling for Elder Akide.”

An image takes shape on the screen—not Akide’s usual assistant, but someone else filling in. He frowns at the young woman who somehow has the code for this inner chamber. “Elder Akide has many demands on his time—”

“Tell him it’s me, and tell him it’s an absolute emergency.” Noemi takes a deep breath. “Earth’s using biological weapons. They’ve infected Genesis with Cobweb.”



The Elder Council doesn’t question her, instead immediately going into action. Noemi might have been gratified by their trust if it had done a damn bit of good.

Reports of infection come in from all corners of Genesis. The areas with the most cases of Cobweb are those closest to where the stars made impact, but already people have fallen sick in more remote places. Public advisories go out, encouraging people to wear masks and gloves, to take care of themselves, to recognize the symptoms such as the white lines on the skin. But nobody can tell the citizens of Genesis what they need to know most: how to treat it.

“You described Cobweb as an infectious disease,” says one of the senior government doctors, speaking to Noemi the next day through the Gatsons’ comm unit. “But this level of virulence wasn’t indicated in your report.”

“I didn’t think it could’ve been this bad. When we were on Stronghold, they had quarantine protections in place, but still—it wasn’t like everyone on Stronghold got sick at once.” She rakes her hand through her chin-length black hair. “But maybe—maybe it was the amount of whatever they put in the stars?”

Her own ignorance makes her wince. It’s absurd to be advising senior government officials as a teenager with no medical training at all. They’ve called because Noemi’s the only person on Genesis with any firsthand knowledge of Cobweb. She’s seen it. She’s survived it. That doesn’t mean she has the answers.