Genesis has a chance now, she reminds herself. Abel can find Ephraim if anyone can. Surely Remedy will help if it’s at all possible. She’s done as much as she could do to save her world. Will it be enough?
At least it’s better than surrendering.
Now if only she could be certain that Abel will save himself along with Genesis—
“The captive has awakened,” says the Tare, who must be standing very close. “Eye movements suggest consciousness.”
“Why are you pretending to sleep?” Mansfield calls. “Get up, girl. We need to have a talk with you.”
Noemi opens her eyes and pushes herself up on her elbows. As she’d suspected, they’re aboard a spaceship, a luxurious personal cruiser. Everything—the gleaming polymer walls, long, low couches, and thick carpet—is white and plush, so spotless she doubts the ship’s ever been used before. The cruiser seems to have only one main chamber, set up as a kind of great room. A few mechs stand about in their plain gray coveralls, either serving humans or waiting to serve. On the far edge of the chamber, Mansfield reclines on a chaise the same snowy color as everything else, Gillian fussing at his side. They’ve changed into… evening wear? Which seems absurd. But Noemi sees Mansfield in a tuxedo and Gillian in a glittery black dress, and either the drugs have warped her brain or they’re going to a party.
Then she realizes she’s wearing a silky, silvery jumpsuit. Apparently they’re all going to this party—whatever it is.
“We should talk,” says Gillian. “The terms of your captivity have changed.”
“You decided to make my kidnapping… more festive?”
Mansfield chuckles, still acting like they’re all good friends deep down, but Gillian’s face remains starkly unmoved. “When we arrive at our destination, you’ll be introduced as one of our guests. You will behave like a guest and be treated like a guest, unless and until you attempt to inform anyone of your real reason for being present. It’s unlikely you’d be believed—but we can’t take the chance.”
Gillian lifts her hand as though to show off her cuff bracelet. Most people would think it was only a bracelet and look no further. But Noemi sees that the thin metal lines and tubes on its surface aren’t only a pretty pattern; they’re a hint that this is working machinery.
“I can activate the poison ampule within your body at any time,” Gillian says. “It would take less than a heartbeat. Even if you tried, you couldn’t kill me fast enough to save yourself.”
Give me a chance, Noemi thinks but doesn’t say. Instead she sits up straighter, lifts her chin. “So what’s more important than your father’s next chance to murder Abel?”
Mansfield scoffs when she says the word murder, but it makes no impact on Gillian’s almost eerie stillness. “My father’s work, and my own, represents the single greatest leap forward humankind has ever made. There’s no sacrifice too great for this. No price too high to pay.”
“That’s easy to say when Abel and I are the ones paying,” Noemi shoots back, but the truth is that Gillian’s fixed stare unnerves her almost as badly as being trapped in the force field did. “I hate to tell you this, but your dad stealing someone else’s body isn’t that big a leap forward for anyone but him.”
“This is about more than one man’s survival, even as great a man as my father.” Gillian turns toward him with a look of utter devotion—but not the kind usually shown by children to parents. It reminds Noemi more of worshippers before the Cross.
She doesn’t miss the faint flash of exasperation on Mansfield’s face. He may have plenty of high-minded things to say about his work, but he doesn’t care that much about “humanity” or “the greater good.” Mansfield’s saving himself.
But Gillian is after something bigger. Something she sees as almost holy, something she’s willing to do evil for. This woman is a zealot following the false god of her father’s ego.
“Approaching Neptune,” reports the pilot, a King model hard at work at a small central console.
Neptune? Noemi frowns. Humans neither live nor work anywhere near Neptune. If she remembers her exo-astronomy correctly, it’s hardly a place where anyone would take a tropical vacation, with average temperatures around negative two hundred degrees Celsius and winds that can reach twenty-four hundred kilometers per hour.
The King adds, “Bringing us into Proteus orbit.” Mansfield simply waves him off.
Proteus. That’s the largest of Neptune’s moons, and as far as Noemi knows, no better a destination than the planet itself.
The only thing Proteus would be good for is as… a hiding place.
Noemi gets to her feet and is grateful to feel steady again. Nobody stops her as she walks closer to the small viewscreen that hangs on one wall, more as a decoration than a guide for anyone. Neptune’s silver-blue surface now takes up nearly half the screen as they fly past it on their way to the moon looming larger every second.
Narrowing her eyes, she picks out one strange detail on-screen—a kind of shadow that takes on greater detail.
Then the magnification zooms in on that shadow, and she sees the ship.
Its size astonishes her—larger than any other vessel she’s ever seen, even the resettlement carriers, even the most fearsome Damocles ships. The shape reminds her of an egg, if the sides were more sharply angled, the tip closer to a point. Purposeless running lights trace every decorative swoop along the surface, and there are dozens of those. Deep black lines grace every edge, along with tiles in terra-cotta red and lapis blue. The patterns suggest ancient Egyptian motifs. The ship is cradled within a spiny construction dock, like a jewel nestled in a metal setting.
This ship would be difficult to land. It’s too enormous to dock at most ports; it expects, demands special accommodation. There’s no retrofitting it for future uses. How many millions of credits—no, billions, maybe even
