Defy the Worlds (Defy the Stars #2)(82)

She begins, “You know how badly I want to get off this planet and help Genesis, but—no, you’re right. We can’t leave them to die. They don’t have tons of food down there—just champagne and petits fours, and they were almost out of those when I left. Those force fields have to be tapping the last of the energy; soon the ship’s climate control will fail. The passengers will freeze to death before we can send help.”

The fervor in Noemi’s voice stirs something within Abel—a sense of purpose that goes beyond his programming. That purpose is as much a part of her as blood or bone.

Quietly he says, “You will always be a soldier of Genesis. A holy warrior.”

Noemi nods. Even in the gloom of this dark corridor, he can discern the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “Do you think there’s any hope of getting the codes from Fouda? Or will he let my planet die?”

“I don’t know.”

There is one thing Abel could do, a final drastic measure that would get them the codes. He could trade himself to Fouda for the codes to help Genesis—allowing Fouda to then trade him to Gillian for medicine.

Gillian Shearer would get her hands on Abel at last. His soul would be forfeit, and his body would finally, completely, belong to Mansfield. He would fulfill Directive One.

The very fact that Noemi hasn’t argued for this herself is testament to how much their friendship must mean to her. He offered to die for Genesis once before, but she rejects that idea as strongly now as she did then. Still, if it comes down to one life for billions—

Abel curtails the thought. He believes they’ll get out of this on their own, because he believes in Noemi. She is the only faith he needs.





27



NORMALLY NOEMI WOULD LEAVE THE MECHANICAL work to Abel. It’s not that she doesn’t know how to do most of it, more that she figures the guy who is actually part machine has an advantage.

But now she kneels in front of the nearest comm panel, prying it open and using her small emergency light to peer inside. She’ll do the labor so Abel can conserve his strength. Their escape from the other side of the ship nearly killed him; she understands that even if he doesn’t. As they traveled through the corridors closer to the bridge, Abel walked slowly, and with an almost imperceptible limp. That sort of behavior, coming from him, is proof of real damage.

Even more proof: He lets her do the work without complaint or comment.

Noemi doesn’t know how to fix Abel, but she can at least be careful with him. She can’t haul him all the way across the ship. They have to figure out a way to handle this where they are.

The comm panel they’ve got isn’t fully powered, but Noemi’s jury-rigged it to do something. She only needs to make a couple of transmissions—starting with a couple of deals.

If she handles this right, both Captain Fouda and Gillian Shearer will have to play by her rules for a change.

“Okay, I’m about to call the passengers’ headquarters.” Noemi glances up at him. “Are you ready?”

Abel nods, and she puts it through.

Her voice crackles and echoes through the corridor as she says, “This is Noemi Vidal of Genesis, for Gillian Shearer.” The pause feels longer than it is.

The passengers must’ve been listening for Fouda to issue commands, because the reply comes almost instantly. “Where is Abel?” Gillian demands. Her voice comes through the small speaker against Noemi’s hand; the vibrating effect feels like she’s holding Gillian in her palm. “Does he still exist? Or did Remedy destroy him?” She’s scared of what Remedy would do out of spite.

“Abel’s fine,” Noemi says. “So am I. Thanks for asking.”

Gillian ignores this. “I want to speak directly to Abel.”

Abel kneels beside Noemi and leans close to the console. Its golden light glows between them as he says, “I’m here, Gillian.”

“You’re not coming back for Father, are you?” Gillian’s voice breaks. She’s caught between laughter and tears, so vividly that Noemi can picture her saying, “Did the two of you call just to torment me?”

“No,” he says. “I wanted to tell you that Simon remains alive, though exhibiting extreme mental and physical malfunction. He’s collecting other mechs, somehow controlling them. Simon’s dangerous to anyone on this ship—including you—and to himself. However, I still believe I can help him.”

“So you’re using the life of a small child as a bargaining chip,” Gillian retorts.

Noemi cuts in. “And you’re using dozens of lives as bargaining chips, so you don’t have a lot of room to talk, Dr. Shearer.”

“I’ll help Simon no matter what,” Abel says quietly. “If I can.”

“If this isn’t about Simon—”

“You’re smart enough to have kept checking the main passageways, so I’m guessing you know Remedy’s trapped all of you on this ship,” Noemi says. “If the mechs from the Winter Castle were coming to save you, they’d have gotten here by now. You’re going to starve or freeze to death if we don’t help you—but we’re willing to help you. If you accept a few conditions.”

“Conditions.” Is that anger in Gillian’s voice? Resignation? “Of course.”