Defy the Worlds (Constellation #2)(80)

Abel knows this, logically, but still wants to argue. Maybe he could escape on his own and bring help back to her—but what help, and when? Most likely he wouldn’t be able to return for at least a solid day, by which time Noemi would probably have died of exposure.

“Abel?” She looks at him steadily. “I trust you. I’m willing to try this. And sitting around here dreading the climb is only freaking me out.”

“All right,” he says. “Let’s go.”

They figure out a way to extend his belt and loop it once through the cord around her waist. It’s a pitifully weak kind of harness, but it’s the best they can do with what they have. Abel positions himself at the tank’s edge and lets Noemi adjust her grip on him and her balance. “Ready?” he asks.

Her hands tighten around his shoulders. “Ready.”

He bends, grasps the lip of the tank, and drops so that his body hangs over the side. For 0.4 seconds the icy metal seems to deny his hold, but then Abel gets it. Together he and Noemi dangle from this one ledge, she clinging tightly to his back, the crevasse still very far below.

“Oh God oh God oh God oh God,” Noemi whispers. “Tell me that was the hardest part.”

“It was, actually.” Their probability of death is still far too high, but completing the first step means their odds have improved to nearly sixty/forty.

Abel moves slowly, taking his time to make sure every hold is as secure as it can be. His wrist throbs with every movement, which is unimportant as long as his grip remains strong. There’s not much Noemi can do to help at this stage, but she remains utterly still, more so than most humans could manage. Because of this, his balance stays constant. With every meter they descend, the drop becomes less dangerous, and their odds improve.

After eleven minutes and fourteen seconds, they reach the bottom. Together they make contact with the ground, then stumble back a few steps before collapsing in the white wet crunch of snow. Noemi’s breathing is fast and shallow, like someone trying not to cry; Abel would reassure her if he thought he could speak.

This must be what humans call “exhaustion.” He doesn’t like it.

Finally Noemi says, very quietly, “Thank you, Abel.”

“You’re welcome.”

“We have to start walking. Can you do it?”

His ankle and wrist ache from the strain of the climb, but as Noemi said earlier—they’ll make it or they won’t. So he gets to his feet alongside her, brushes ice crystals off his clothes—

—and spots the figure rising from behind a snow-covered pile of debris.

“Abel!” Noemi cries, pushing him to the side just before a blaster bolt arcs through the air overhead. If her reflexes are faster than his, he’s even more tired than he thought. They’re half-buried in a drift, the snow their only protection. “Was that Remedy?”

“No—the Tare with one eye. One of Simon’s. And we’re unarmed.”

The situation’s even worse than that. Even now, the Tare—functioning as part of Simon’s mind—is sharing their location with the rest of his mechs. Within minutes the others will be on them.

Abel brought Noemi safely to the ground only for them to both die.

Noemi looks around frantically, her chin-length hair whipping in the wind, before grabbing a large stone and hurling it at their attacker. The Tare has turned so that her absent eye faces them, so she doesn’t see the rock coming—and when it makes contact, she goes down instantly, unconscious or inoperable.

“Unarmed, my ass.” Noemi scrambles to her feet and tows Abel up with her. She seems to have realized he’s not functioning optimally. Snow slips off her parka but clings to his clothes in thick, cold ridges. “We have to go back inside the Osiris,” she says.

He must protest. They only barely escaped the ship with their lives, and both the passengers and any surviving Remedy members will attack Abel on sight. Simon has yet to be reasoned with. Noemi will be in danger as long as she’s near him. “That can only delay our reaching the Persephone.”

“You’re not yourself, Abel. And if you’re not at full strength, there’s no way we can get to Virginia’s corsair.” She counts her points off on her red, chapped fingers. “But if we can’t fly up to her, she could fly down to us. There’s got to be something in the Osiris we could use to contact her—right? Or we could maybe find the docking bay and take a smaller ship, if there’s one that’s still spaceworthy. Either way, we’ll be able to help ourselves better in there than we can out here.”

“Agreed.” It’s risky, but so is every other course of action they could take. He stalks through the snow over to the fallen Tare and takes her blaster in hand. If he has to put Noemi in danger again, at least he’ll be able to defend her. Then he spies another blaster among the wreckage and tosses it to Noemi, who’s very good at defending herself. She’s also skilled at attacking, as their opponents on this ship will soon be aware.

And if he sees Simon again—what?

He’ll answer that when he has to, and not before. “Let’s go.”



Their entry point at ground level turns out not to be far from the air lock through which Abel originally entered the Osiris. He feels a strange ache at the memory of Riko greeting him here, smiling and exhilarated, little guessing she had less than three days left to live.