“Just great.”
Abel finally reaches her side and slings one arm beneath her, helping to hold up her weight. Trying to be encouraging, he adds, “The mechs may simply wait to see if we make it back to that side of the ship, to capture or kill us then.”
“Fabulous.” Noemi’s breathing hard with the effort required to hang on, even with Abel’s help. “I don’t think this framework’s going to hold very long. Especially not if we keep moving.”
“Agreed.”
For a second they hang there in silence. Noemi turns her face from the crevasse below to the luminous moons overhead in Haven’s sky. This might be her final experience of beauty, of wonder. Cold wind whips around them, and ice crystals sprinkle her cheeks and eyelashes. Despite the chill, terror has made her hands start to sweat. Oh, great, this is exactly when I want to be slippery.
Abel says, “Attempting to return along the framework may be unduly dangerous, if not impossible.”
“Yeah, but what else are we supposed to do?”
“I might be able to jump to the other side of the ship. You could hold on to my back.”
Noemi cranes her neck to look at the cavernous gap around them. She can’t tell exactly how far away the other side is, but—it’s far. “Not even you can make that jump with me weighing you down… can you?”
Abel remains silent for a second, then says, “We’ll find out.”
“Not reassuring.”
“Unfortunately, that which is reassuring is not always true.”
She swallows hard. “You’d just be swinging over, using your arms. Not jumping.”
“The verb is imprecise, but I felt it would sound more encouraging.”
“It did until you explained it!”
Apologetically, Abel says, “You did ask.”
“Okay.” A stronger gust of wind sends shudders throughout the framework. It won’t hold their weight much longer. She takes a deep breath and pulls herself together the best she can, turning her head to face Abel. They’re so close together their noses nearly touch. “All right. I know we have to do this. I just don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it much either,” Abel admits, “but in this situation, the best solution isn’t necessarily a good solution.”
“You are the absolute worst at comforting people ever.”
One corner of his mouth lifts, half a smile, but his mech focus remains absolute. “Our first difficulty will be adjusting your weight onto my back.” The air currents whirl around them, dusting them with ice, as Noemi’s brain tries desperately to think of a better way out of this, any other way out of this, or maybe how she could’ve avoided being out here to begin with.
“Hold still,” she commands, and he braces himself, becoming even more unyielding than the metal they hang from. Noemi calls on her memories of basic training. They had to climb plastic webbing, nets made of thick rope, even trees. She always scored at the top of her squadron. If she did it then, she can do it now.
Swing your arm over OH GOD OH GOD okay you’ve got it GOD HELP ME grab on to him HARD—
“Okay!” she yelps as she clutches Abel around the neck with her arms, and around his waist with her legs. She dangles from his back like a sloth from a tree branch. “Okay, okay. Got it.”
His voice is slightly strangled as he says, “You’re lucky I don’t have the same respiratory needs as humans.”
“I know you could probably hang here all day, which is great for you and everything, but could you please jump already?”
“I need to brace myself.” With startling speed, he swings around the edge of the framework so that he’s crouching atop it instead of hanging beneath. Having him between her and the deep crevasse below feels irrationally reassuring—until the metal framework groans ominously, and a shudder sends vibrations through both their bodies. They don’t have long. Abel senses it, too. “Are you ready?”
Noemi grips Abel even more tightly. “Go.”
He jumps with such force that it knocks the breath out of her. For one terrifying, surreal instant it seems as though they’re flying—the other side impossibly far away until it’s rushing toward them, into them. Noemi goes dizzy when they hit one of the floors, pure metal, and hit it hard.
Abel manages to grab the edge of the floor, delaying their fall. She hangs there for a terrible moment, swinging back and forth like a pendulum, until he hurls her over him.
He lets go of her—a terrifying sensation—but Noemi rolls onto the other side of the ship, onto a jagged, raw structure.
She lands rough, tastes blood, but instantly scrambles to the edge to help him. He’s not pulling himself up for some reason. Then she realizes one of his wrists is badly bent. It must have been damaged in the jump; he broke it to save her, and now he can’t save himself.
Noemi leans forward to grab his undamaged arm. “Come on,” she whispers. “I can get you inside.”
Abel shakes his head. “I’m too heavy for you.”
“I’m strong. Look, I can brace my feet.”
“My left ankle is broken.” He must have hit that wall even harder than she thought. “I can’t push myself up. You’d have to take my whole weight. It’s too dangerous.”
“So, what, you’re just going to fall to your death?”
“…I believe you can escape and contact Virginia on your own.” Still, he’s only worried about her, not about himself.
“Listen to me.” Noemi grabs his arm with all her strength and leans so close that he has no choice but to meet her eyes. “You’d better try to help me. Otherwise, you’re going to fall and drag me down with you. Because I won’t let go of you, Abel. I will never let go.”
Abel hesitates, but only for an instant. “On three.”
They count together, silently, nodding on each number—and then Noemi pulls back as hard as she can, towing Abel with her. He gets his broken forearm onto the edge of the wall, which must be agonizing, but it takes enough of his weight to pull
