Finally, that gets through. Abel looks back at her, concern furrowing his brow. “That shouldn’t be possible.”
“I did it! I did it!” This small child in the dimly lit hallway laughs as a severed hand crawls toward him as its master—and somehow his laughter is the scariest part. “My toys are my friends. Real friends. They do whatever I want them to do. They help me.”
Noemi clutches at the sleeve of Abel’s thick white coat. “Please, let’s go.”
“It’s all right…” Abel’s voice trails off as the broken mechs at their feet begin to twitch.
As obliterated as these mechs are, they’re trying to respond to Simon. A detached arm crawls toward them, pulling itself forward with its bloodied metal fingers. A Sugar model rolls onto her side, kicking at Noemi’s feet. Hopping sideways to avoid that, she pulls more insistently at Abel. “We have to get out of here before he calls more of them.”
Of course Abel wants to talk technological breakthroughs. “You’re controlling other mechs? Remotely? That’s a remarkable advance, Simon. Can you explain the method of your—”
“No!” Simon balls his hands into fists. “They’re mine!”
The Uncle on the floor grabs at Abel’s leg but misses. Its motion distracts Noemi from the Sugar reaching for her blaster.
At the first tug, Noemi manages to pull the blaster back, barely. She fires, destroying the Sugar with a single blaster bolt. As its remains collapse and clatter, the disembodied hand drops down on her, skittering its fingers through her hair. All the battles she’s lived through can’t stop her from screaming as she slaps it away from her.
“Noemi?” Abel’s trying to look after her and beat back half a George at the same time.
She takes Abel’s hand and runs away from Simon—trusting, praying, that Abel will follow her instead of pulling back.
He does. They dash from the theater, footsteps thudding so heavily that she can’t tell whether any of the mechs are chasing them. It doesn’t matter where they go, as long as it’s somewhere else.
They find a pair of doors that lead them into what was once a kitchen, and Abel manages to slide them soundly shut before any of the other mechs can follow. For a few seconds, they stand there in silence. Noemi finally catches her breath. “What’s wrong with him?”
Abel’s blue eyes lock on hers with a gravity she hasn’t seen in him since he offered to die for Genesis more than five months before. “Simon’s only confused and afraid.”
“That’s what I thought at first. But what he’s doing with the other mechs—the way he’s lashing out, denying his human side—he’s dangerous.”
Abel’s expression is hard to recognize. It takes Noemi a few seconds to realize that he just doesn’t believe her. “I realize Simon has problems, but he can’t be… written off so completely. Not yet. You don’t understand.”
“…I guess maybe I don’t.”
“You needed a while to understand me, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did.” Noemi’s pretty sure this isn’t the same kind of thing at all, but they can talk about it some other time.
It hits her all over again: I get to talk to Abel. He’s here. The one person in the galaxy who’s ever completely seen me, known me—he’s here. What does that mean for her, for them?
She doesn’t know. Can’t know, not with all of this going on. Noemi is certain only that she’s happier to see Abel than she’s ever been to see anybody—and that their chances of getting through this have more than doubled, now that they’re together.
“We should return to the bridge,” Abel says. “Otherwise Fouda will suspect me of deserting Remedy, and Riko and the others will begin to worry.”
“And we have to get those relay codes.” She doesn’t really understand how the codes work—how Remedy itself works—but if that’s what Ephraim told Abel, she’s going with it. “Genesis doesn’t have much time.”
“Your fear for your world goes far beyond concern for your own survival,” Abel says as they begin walking along the glass-strewn corridor, taking what must be an indirect way back to the bridge. “You’ve always been selfless. My programming ranks it as one of the highest virtues—and my consciousness agrees.”
Does he balance those two? Interesting. They’ll have to talk about that sometime. “Saving my own planet hardly counts as selfless. I mean, that’s my home. That’s almost everyone I’ve ever known.”
“I’ve lived among humans for more than five months now, working as a Vagabond. This has given me far more insight into human beings than I had before. While what you say is logical, I have found that, when conditions become difficult, most people are quick to save themselves without thinking of others. You supersede that selfishness.”
Noemi shakes her head. She’s hardly the best person she knows. She’s one of the most mixed up, one of the angriest. “I don’t think I’m anything special.”
“I disagree.” His eyes meet hers with warmth that reminds her—suddenly, vividly—of their one kiss.
Flustered, she says, “Protecting Genesis is what I’ve trained for my whole life.”
Abel seems to consider his words carefully before replying. “I’ve come to believe that even humans have a Directive One. A call they’ll always answer, or a goal they can never stop trying to achieve. Something that will always override everything else. Mine is my need to protect Burton Mansfield. Yours is your loyalty to Genesis. Whether it’s a matter of virtue, as I believe, or training, as you believe—it makes no difference. You remain constant.”
“You defeated your Directive One to save my life. You didn’t even flinch.”
He says only, “Maybe I’m programming a new Directive One for myself.”
She flushes again, but it doesn’t fluster her so much this time. It feels… nice. Noemi hugs him tightly, and for a little while, it doesn’t matter that they’re on a hidden planet, in a crashed spaceship turned upside down. The terrible crises that they have to resolve both on the Osiris and back on Genesis haven’t
