If Noemi were here, they could discuss whether violence can ever be justified in the pursuit of freedom. She might have a different point of view.
“Abel?” Harriet has an odd look on her face. Abel realizes he’s smiling softly. Remembering Noemi has this effect on him.
Amending his expression, he decides to test his ability to make jokes. He’s been working on that lately. “I’m just relieved we’re running into more trouble. When things go too smoothly, I worry.”
He must’ve done it right, because that makes her laugh. “Come on. Even we catch a break sometimes.”
“Not today,” Zayan says with a grimace. “Receiving signal now—it’s a planetwide quarantine warning. Cobweb.”
Harriet swears in French. Abel says nothing, because for a fraction of a second he’s not in the here and now. He’s remembering six months ago, when Noemi’s skin was covered in the telltale white lines of Cobweb and her fever had spiked so sharply he thought he might lose her.
All Abel’s knowledge, all his many talents, did no good. It was the quick treatment she got on Stronghold, and the assistance of Ephraim Dunaway, that saved Noemi’s life. He doesn’t like remembering his own powerlessness.
Zayan’s console blinks, informing them they have clearance to land on one of the outer peninsulas, where the disease has apparently been contained, and Harriet’s hands are already on the controls. “Go in for landing?” Zayan asks.
Abel weighs the potential risks, then shakes his head. “I’m not willing to risk your health.”
“Or your own,” Zayan says. “You’re not immortal, you know.”
“True.” Abel’s life span is most likely somewhere around two hundred and fifty years. He still has more than two centuries to go.
“Let’s get out of here.” Harriet begins turning the ship away from Stronghold. “Back through the Earth Gate, then? Even if we shouldn’t land there for a while due to—well, whatever it is you’re not telling us—we could pick up some more mining work in the asteroid belt.”
“Not right now,” Abel says. After Gillian’s demonstration, he badly needs to talk about what he’s seen, and there’s only one person he can discuss this with. “Take us to the Stronghold Gate to Cray, top speed.”
“Cray?” Zayan frowns. “Nobody gets landing clearance on Cray unless they’re preapproved by the scientists. To do that, you have to be a researcher or a merchant or—”
“Or a family member.” Abel decides upon the best stratagem. “Let’s go.”
“Cousin Abel!” Virginia Redbird throws her arms open wide. Her long, red-streaked brown hair hangs free almost to her waist, and her orange coverall is decorated with badges and pins from dozens of different sources. While they’ve been in occasional contact via holos and data transmissions, this is the first time he’s seen her since their escape from Earth nearly six months prior. “My beloved, long-lost cousin! I’ve missed you so much!”
Abel submits to the hug, which gives him the chance to whisper in her ear: “I think the human phrase for this is ‘laying it on too thick.’”
Virginia laughs. “Remember who you’re talking to. I lay everything on too thick.”
This is true. The others standing around the geometric perfection of Cray’s Station 47 landing dock pay absolutely no attention to Virginia’s over-the-top welcome. Only Zayan and Harriet are staring. They’ll get used to her in time.
“Did you come all this way just to visit me?” Virginia slings her arm around Abel’s shoulders, leading him into one of Cray’s underground corridors. The planet’s surface may be a seething red desert, but down here everything is cool and crisp, mostly in various shades of white, orange, and gray. Every shop offers games, snacks, or holos to pamper the brilliant scientists who live here, working with the massive supercomputer powered by the planetary core. “I’m touched by the depth of your family feeling, Abel. Deeply touched.”
He tries to get into the spirit. “Anything for you, Cousin Virginia.”
She laughs out loud in glee. “Who are these friends of yours?”
“Harriet Dixon, Zayan Thakur, this is Virginia Redbird, one of the top science students on Cray.” Abel gestures toward his… friends. Yes, that’s the right word. “Virginia, my friends Harriet and Zayan work as crew on my ship.”
“What’s that ship named these days?” Virginia had seen a few of the fake IDs he had to use during Noemi’s whirlwind trip through the Loop.
“The Persephone,” Zayan offers. When Virginia looks over at Abel, her expression becomes softer. She knows he renamed the ship in Noemi’s honor without his even having to explain the connection. Abel finds himself touched at being understood.
Meanwhile, the George mech that checked the Persephone into dock shows no sign of recognition of either Abel or the ship, though it may well be the exact same George that dealt with them six months before—when a security alert went out for him and Noemi. He has no worries about any human recognizing him from that; their brains discard far more information than they retain. Probably the Georges undergo periodic memory purges, a factor Abel took into account when deciding to return to Cray.
Yet he cannot forget that Burton Mansfield is still looking for his creation. Still eager to destroy Abel’s consciousness—his soul—and replace it with his own. Surely he’s programmed certain mechs to recognize Abel, and then work toward his recapture. That’s a threat Abel lives with every day.
Either he’s been very lucky not to be spotted, or Mansfield knows his location. Tracks him. Waits.
Abel catches himself. Paranoia can lead to a spiral of recursive thoughts. He must remain focused on the moment.
“Harriet, Z, you guys seem great.” Virginia thumps Zayan on the shoulder. “Abel and I need to talk family business for a while. But how about you meet us at
