Abel pays no attention to the taunts. Instead he analyzes the uncertainty in Mansfield’s body language. The strange, rushed quality of these instructions. Even the way Mansfield’s eyes dart from side to side, as if he’s watching some action play out around him. Something fundamental has changed about Mansfield’s short-term plans—suggesting a large, important element at work that Mansfield has no control over. This element could help Abel, or it could doom Noemi. Until he discovers what it is, he can’t determine which probability is greater.
Mansfield continues, “Come to Neptune, Abel. To Proteus. Find the Osiris. I’ll even extend your deadline, but not far. Meet me there within one Earth day, no more. That’s the last chance for all three of us to get what we want. Once you’ve done your duty, I promise you, Noemi can go safely home. I’ll even allow you two the chance to say good-bye.”
The memory of their first good-bye floods Abel’s mind—the feel of Noemi in his arms, the softness of her mouth against his. It sharpens his longing for her so much he’s glad Mansfield didn’t mention a chance at good-bye in his first kidnapping demand. If he had, Abel might’ve surrendered.
“Find the Osiris,” Mansfield repeats. “Until then.” With a wave, he vanishes. The hologram is over.
In Namibia, Abel docks Virginia’s corsair, puts in a flight clearance request, and walks upward through the Persephone’s one long spiral corridor until he reaches the equipment pod bay. He was marooned in this pod bay for nearly thirty years, completely alone. For most of that time, he’d wondered whether he would ever be freed from that prison. However, he’s found that when he’s especially confused or upset, this is the place he most wants to go. It makes no rational sense, but he’s trying to dismiss the expectation that his emotions should be rational. To judge by the humans he’s observed, no one ever accomplishes this.
Here on Earth, he can’t turn off the gravity to float in zero-G like he did before. The darkness and the closed door are enough. He lies on the floor, gazing up at the marks carved into the ceiling. When he was first stranded, he scratched one for each day; his plan was to keep track of them all until he was rescued. He gave up after only 5.7 years. The habit became too depressing. If he’d kept going, nearly every centimeter of this pod bay would be scarred.
This was his prison. This was his home. This was where he learned to endure the terrible burden of not knowing. Now, when he must go on without any sure knowledge of how Noemi is, and without any concrete plan of saving her, he has to call on that endurance again.
A light begins blinking on a nearby interface; takeoff clearance has been granted. Immediate departure is necessary.
But he hesitates at the door for almost 2.3 seconds, looking up not at the marks on the ceiling but at the spot in midair where he held Noemi in his arms. Where they kissed.
He always knew it would only be once.
11
AS MANSFIELD’S CRUISER PULLS CLOSER TO THE behemoth ship Osiris, Noemi starts planning her escape.
I can’t overpower the mechs on board Mansfield’s craft in order to steal it, and even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to get away in this ship. They’re close enough now for her to see that dozens, maybe hundreds of mechs swarm around the Osiris and the surrounding area, swooping around the docking framework like vultures over prey. Once I’m on the Osiris, she decides, I can look for other chances.
The sore flesh around the poison ampule in her arm throbs with every heartbeat, reminding her that her captors have the power to kill her at any moment. But she knows they’re unlikely to try anything before Abel shows up, which she hopes will be never.
Abel’s helping Genesis, Noemi tells herself. The second she escapes from this ship, she intends to join him. Her world has so little time.
The cruiser’s comms buzz. “The Columbian Corporation welcomes you to the launch of the Osiris, the first stage of the most incredible journey in the history of humankind.” It’s obviously an automated signal, and Burton Mansfield scowls.
“We’re the largest investors,” he grumbles as Gillian helps him to his feet. “You’d think we’d merit a personal greeting.”
“We still don’t have a majority.” Gillian’s tone suggests she’s said this many times before. “Besides, does it matter?”
The question seems to irritate him. “Status always matters, my dear.” People from Earth have strange priorities.
But Gillian doesn’t think like her father. Her eyes take on the distant, fiery glow of holy purpose. “Soon they’ll know what we’ve really accomplished.” Noemi has no idea what the woman is talking about, but she’s certain it means nothing good.
“Docking instructions have been autocoded into your personal cruiser,” the message continues. “Upon your arrival, our team of mechs will take care of your every need. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the miracle that is about to unfold.”
“What the—” Noemi feels a slight tug as the Osiris begins towing them in. “Did they say ‘miracle’?”
“Hyperbole. I advised the other board members against that kind of language, but they outvoted me. But haven’t I performed miracles before, Miss Vidal?” Mansfield asks as he settles back onto his chaise.
Abel surely counts as miraculous, but that’s not only Mansfield’s genius at work. Something else happened within him to make him so much more than his creator.
To Mansfield she says only, “You’re no god.”
The Osiris looms larger before them, its ornate golden hull blotting out the stars. One of the mechs steps closer and fluffs Noemi’s hair, then spritzes her with something that smells of pear blossoms; it startles Noemi until she remembers that she’s being passed
