Notify Earth security. Abel usually tries to avoid interacting with the authorities any more than necessary; he doesn’t know who might be under Mansfield’s pay, or even whether someone might finally penetrate his fake identification. He doesn’t care. Not if Earth ships could save the Osiris, and Noemi along with it.
“Free vessel Persephone calling any Earth ships in range,” he says, adjusting his signal to ensure it more swiftly reaches the comm relays between planets. “Suspected Remedy action against a civilian vessel near Proteus. Repeat, suspected Remedy action—”
Four Remedy ships swoop in sharp arcs to zoom straight toward his ship. The problem with open comms is that anyone can hear you, and now Remedy knows he’s endangering their mission. That makes him the enemy.
Abel had calculated this, so he’s prepared. He shifts the Persephone’s course, diving toward Neptune. The last thing he sees before switching his view is the Osiris beginning to move. As still more Remedy ships dart inside, it lumbers from the debris of its frame and begins to fly toward open space.
They can’t get far, Abel reminds himself as he focuses primary instrumentation on Neptune, fast approaching on his viewscreen. From here, even in overdrive mode, no ship can reach either the Genesis or Earth Gate in less than four hours. What he has planned will take far less time.
He wheels around toward the moon Naiad, the innermost of Neptune’s satellites. As he’d anticipated, the Remedy fighters follow him. Naiad is small and irregularly shaped, and its orbit is erratic. Abel brings them around in a curve that is in fact a collision course. Their computers will inform them of that in 3.8 seconds.
Changing course in time to avoid a crash must occur within 3.1 seconds.
In the last moment, Abel banks sharply to stern. He doesn’t shift the viewscreen to show him the scene of the crashes behind him. Watching the smaller, abstract symbols on his console blink out of existence is sufficient.
Killing humans to save his life and his ship is within Abel’s parameters. Given that he was acting to save Noemi from a crisis these pilots helped bring into being, he feels morally justified. Yet the knowledge that he’s taken human life haunts him. He will have to consider this from many religious and philosophical viewpoints—but later, after rescuing Noemi.
The Osiris has already traveled a great distance, and at a higher speed than the Persephone can reach. He’s not that far behind, however, and Abel feels sure that the ship will soon come to a stop. Whether Remedy gains control of the ship or is defeated, the captain will need to cease flight and take stock of the damage.
Yet the Osiris keeps flying, getting farther and farther ahead by the minute. As its path becomes clearer, Abel begins to frown. It appears to be headed to the Kuiper Belt of asteroids and detritus that circles the far end of the solar system.
In other words, it’s headed toward nothing.
Perhaps this is a random course, set by Remedy to escape Earth authorities, if they’ve taken control of the ship. That’s the only rationale Abel can devise. That attempt is doomed to failure—the ship’s ionization trails will be traceable for days yet—but it is possible the Remedy members don’t know that. He magnifies the image of the ship so that it nearly fills the domed screen, giving him the best possible view—
—and the Osiris disappears.
Abel at first assumes a sensor malfunction. He runs through the ship’s systems looking for a fault and finds none, then examines his own internal workings. Everything reports normal.
He pushes the engines faster, and even considers putting them into overdrive again, dangerous as this would be. But within 2.31 minutes, he’s close enough to get better readings on the area. He turns up various far-flung asteroids, one distant gravity anomaly, but absolutely nothing that could be a ship. Even if the Osiris had been destroyed, there would be wreckage, radiation, or other evidence.
Instead the ship has simply vanished from existence—taking Noemi with it.
13
THE MAIN LIGHTS FLICKER, LEAVING ONLY THE STACCATO red alert for illumination. Panic crackles through the passengers like near-fatal voltage, galvanizing them all.
“What do we do?” Delphine clutches Noemi’s arm, probably because Noemi’s one of the few not shaking with fear. “If Remedy captures this ship, they’ll kill us all!”
“How did Remedy learn about our voyage?” demands the older, more hostile man named Vinh. “We were assured of total secrecy!”
“I’d like to know that myself.” Mansfield has gone ghostly pale. “They said we’d had proximity alerts, but they never said—”
Another blast near the window floods the room with a flash of intense green light. The ship rocks again, and Mansfield nearly topples from his chair; Gillian manages to catch him. She says, “Someone betrayed us. Someone inside the Columbian Corporation—no one else could’ve known.”
Vinh says, “I demand an inquest!”
Noemi thinks, This guy has no idea that we might all be dead in an hour. As scared as the other passengers are, they’re not taking any actions to save themselves. They stare upward, almost motionless, like rabbits in a vehicle’s light.
Heavy clanking through the walls suggests a major system shutdown. Everyone tenses, and Noemi’s palm itches for the holt of a blaster. Standing here in a ship she doesn’t know, with people she doesn’t understand, unnerves her more than straightforward combat ever has. She prefers it when she can see what’s trying to kill her.
Over the comms comes the captain’s voice, now hoarse with panic. “We’re being boarded! All hands to emergency escape pods! All hands, abandon ship!”
It’s like throwing bread to pigeons. People scatter in every direction at once, screaming with terror, knocking over trays and one another. A flume of champagne splatters across Noemi’s face; she spits it out and yells over the din: “Everyone listen!”
Everyone does. They halt in place, staring at her. At first Noemi’s surprised—she thought she’d get the attention of just a few people—but then she realizes she’s the only one trying
