Defy the Worlds (Constellation #2)(41)
Mansfield steers his hoverchair to a small console with a screen, only a few steps from where Noemi stands. He pokes the controls with a bony finger. “This is Burton Mansfield, creator of every mech in existence—many of which are headed up to destroy you even now. What’s happened to our captain?”
“Something you’d better hope doesn’t happen to you.” The screen coalesces into an image: a man in his late fifties, with coloring much like Captain Baz’s, sitting in a high-backed command chair. Thin white scar lines etch one side of his face and run down and around his neck, maybe evidence of a long-ago battle. He and the ragged crew around him all wear simple, functional clothes in shades of beige; Noemi remembers that from some of the Remedy bombers she and Abel saw on Kismet. “The great Mansfield,” Fouda says slowly. “More interested in mechs than in humans, it seems.”
“What’s your business here? Remedy’s always had an argument with Earth,” Mansfield says. “Not with private citizens.”
“It is private citizens who make the choices that render Earth a tyrant instead of a motherland.” Fouda steeples his hands in front of him. “Private citizens who hoard the precious resources that could make life easier for billions throughout the galaxy. But this—this goes beyond any hoarding, any theft, in the history of humankind. You’ve hidden a Gate. You’ve hidden a world.”
Noemi hadn’t had time to think this through, but instantly she sees that no other explanation would’ve made sense. Somewhere in this system, there’s another habitable planet, capable of supporting thousands or millions or even billions of people.
But nobody else knows about this world. Earth’s government shared the information exclusively with its wealthiest, most privileged citizens, allowing nobody else even the possibility of traveling to this system. The desperate Vagabonds and hardworking miners will never be told this place exists. This new chance at life isn’t for everyone. It’s being hoarded selfishly—or it was before Remedy got here. Noemi experiences one moment of solidarity with Remedy, when she feels like they’re on the side of right.
That vanishes when Fouda says, “We’ll keep the members of your crew who can still be of use. Otherwise we have no need to maintain a supply of leeches.”
She sees Delphine trembling with fear, and gets even angrier for her than Noemi is for herself. These people have done something impossibly selfish, but nobody deserves to be murdered in cold blood.
“Our sensors show you in one of the mech chambers,” Fouda says. “Easy enough to vent the oxygen from those rooms, I think.” Wails of terror go up from the passengers, but Noemi just gets furious.
She moves to the console, shouldering Mansfield’s chair to the side so roughly it rocks. “Listen to me. If you think the passengers on this ship are passive prisoners, think again. We’re here in numbers. We’re armed. You may control the bridge, but trust me, we still have ways to make this a very unpleasant trip for you. So you’d better stop threatening us and start negotiating.”
“Or else your mechs will get us? We turned every mech we found to scrap metal. Remedy is made up of human fighters. Real fighters. We don’t send toys to do the work of warriors.” Fouda laughs. “Don’t worry. It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to die. A reasonably merciful end, and more than you deserve.”
More screams, and weeping. Delphine sways on her feet as though she is about to faint. Noemi banks her fear down deep. If only the passengers had taken the water supply or the engine room, something worth bargaining with.
She still has a card to play—the worst one ever, but it’s all she’s got.
Noemi says, “Ten minutes should be plenty of time for our blasters to punch a hole in the hull. Since you’ll have shut off the airflow to this area, you won’t be able to adjust the ship’s internal pressure in time. You’ll lose hull integrity and destroy the entire ship. I forget—when people are exposed to outer space, do they implode or explode? One or the other. Either way, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
His smile fades. “You’d kill yourselves, too.”
With a shrug, Noemi says, “Once you’ve cut off our air, we’re dead already. Might as well take you with us.”
The pause that follows stretches out for several seconds. Actually Noemi has no idea whether they could punch a hole in the hull; blasters might not be that strong, even if set to overload. As long as Fouda isn’t sure either, though, she’s able to negotiate.
At last he says, “We’ll address the issue of your survival after our arrival on the world you call Haven.”
Haven. A small thrill goes through Noemi at the sound of it. Whatever else is going on here, another home for humanity’s been found, and that has to be good news.
“If you only planned to kill us, you would’ve done so without contacting us,” says Gillian, who’s come to her father’s side. “You want something, obviously something you thought we’d be motivated to give you for our own sakes. I’m guessing those are our landing coordinates. Correct?”
Fouda looks impressed. Noemi probably does, too. She’d known Shearer and her father were intelligent, but that’s the kind of leap Abel himself might’ve made….
“Yes,” Fouda says. “We wanted the coordinates.”