“Everything we know about Cobweb,” rasps Darius Akide, from his place in a hospital bed, “we know from you. To whatever extent we’ve been able to respond to this crisis, it’s because your intel prepared us.”
“That’s not much,” Noemi says. Though she knows in her mind that there’s nothing more she could’ve done, she still feels as though she failed somehow. “Ephraim Dunaway told me the Stronghold doctors figured out I was from Genesis because I was too healthy. Because I responded to Cobweb treatment so quickly. But this disease—it’s destroying us.”
“You responded to antiviral drugs we don’t have,” Akide says. “Ours are older and, it seems, much less effective against Cobweb.”
Another elder says, “Earth appears to have made Cobweb more contagious before they sent it to Genesis—and perhaps they’ve made it deadlier, too. Something our drugs can’t treat.”
“Then we need to—” Noemi stops mid-sentence. The idea is so tantalizing, so liberating, that she can’t give it voice. If she admits it’s even possible, she’ll be admitting how much she wants it. Admitting she wants something means she won’t actually get it. She pushes her mind down another route. “Is it—does my body carry Cobweb antibodies, or something like that? Could they use my blood to synthesize a cure?”
The silver-haired elder shakes her head. “Our doctors doubt it, and the research would take time Genesis doesn’t have. Earth sent this disease to paralyze us. They could send Damocles ships through at any moment, and we could put up little resistance. Within another few days, we’ll have no ability to resist at all.”
“We need the better antivirals,” Noemi says. It’s really happening. “You’ll have to send me through the Gate. That’s why you called me here, isn’t it? I’m immune and I’ve got contacts in Remedy who could help us. I’m ready.”
One thought overwhelms her beyond any others: I’m free!
Then Noemi wonders what the hell is wrong with her. Genesis is in terrible danger, maybe the worst it has ever faced. The mission she’s going on will be dangerous; surely Earth will be guarding the Genesis Gate closely, which means her chance of capture is high. If she fails, it’s the death of her world, and she’ll actually deserve the hate she’s received.
She knows all that. She believes it. She’s going to get the antivirals back to Genesis or die trying.
But then Darius Akide slowly shakes his head. “That would take time we almost certainly don’t have. We must face the inevitable.”
Nausea twists Noemi’s gut. No.
“You’re not my first choice of diplomat,” he says with as much humor as he can muster, which isn’t much. The gravity of his words is unmistakable. “But you’re the only individual we know will remain healthy and uninfected.”
Please, no.
Akide concludes: “That’s why you must be the one to offer Earth our surrender.”
The war is over. Noemi’s world is lost.
The next few hours pass in a blur: Fueling and provisioning her starfighter, and charting her course to the Genesis Gate while scanning all sectors at maximum intensity for any potential mech patrols. Tears periodically blur her eyes, but she keeps going, driving herself on because the first time she stops to think about this, it’s going to kill her.
On the journey to the Gate, though, there’s nothing to do but think.
How could they do it? How could they just give up? Yes, Genesis is stricken, but Earth hasn’t invaded yet. The delay can only be because they want the virus to wreak maximum havoc before the invasion, to make their takeover as easy as possible. That cruel arrogance could be turned to Genesis’s advantage if they’d only try to get the antivirals. I could’ve done it if they had let me. It would’ve been easy!
Well, maybe not easy. But it would’ve been possible. I’d have reached out to Ephraim, if I could find him—or maybe Riko, if I could figure out where she is—
—Kismet would be a place to start, if I could—
I could do it.
Noemi has been reprimanded for reacting instead of acting. She knows her temper and her impulses don’t always point in the right direction. And what she’s thinking of doing is even more serious than disobeying a military command. She would be making a judgment that will determine the destiny of her entire planet, overruling the Elder Council itself.
But if Remedy could help her get the antiviral drugs in time… she could save Genesis.
The Gate beckons. Noemi hasn’t made her decision yet—or at least she tells herself she hasn’t—but she feels like she’ll know what to do the minute she’s on the other side. Time to fly.
She urges her starfighter forward into the shimmer at the very center of the Gate. The ship hits the event horizon, and reality cracks.
In an instant straight lines seem to bend, and light varies its brightness from millimeter to millimeter. It’s as if the serene image of her cockpit a moment ago had been turned into a jigsaw puzzle and someone just dumped the pieces on the table all out of order. Noemi’s stomach drops, but she keeps her hands on the controls, full speed ahead.
For one moment she closes her eyes, just to steady herself. In that moment she recalls going through a Gate for the first time, Abel at her side, his hands sure on the controls. He’d been so arrogant about his skills, so pleased with her fear. And she’d hardly even wanted to look at the thing she would later destroy—
Reality restores itself instantaneously as the starfield before her shifts, showing an entirely new set of constellations. The planets shine brighter, and quickly she figures out which one is Earth. She stares at it and knows what she has to do.
I have to find Remedy. I have to at least try.
The decision feels like another moment of grace, one so beautiful she has to blink back tears.
Then her sensors begin to shriek, and Noemi swears.
Eight—no, ten fighter mechs, all lying in
