The comm panel they’ve got isn’t fully powered, but Noemi’s jury-rigged it to do something. She only needs to make a couple of transmissions—starting with a couple of deals.
If she handles this right, both Captain Fouda and Gillian Shearer will have to play by her rules for a change.
“Okay, I’m about to call the passengers’ headquarters.” Noemi glances up at him. “Are you ready?”
Abel nods, and she puts it through.
Her voice crackles and echoes through the corridor as she says, “This is Noemi Vidal of Genesis, for Gillian Shearer.” The pause feels longer than it is.
The passengers must’ve been listening for Fouda to issue commands, because the reply comes almost instantly. “Where is Abel?” Gillian demands. Her voice comes through the small speaker against Noemi’s hand; the vibrating effect feels like she’s holding Gillian in her palm. “Does he still exist? Or did Remedy destroy him?” She’s scared of what Remedy would do out of spite.
“Abel’s fine,” Noemi says. “So am I. Thanks for asking.”
Gillian ignores this. “I want to speak directly to Abel.”
Abel kneels beside Noemi and leans close to the console. Its golden light glows between them as he says, “I’m here, Gillian.”
“You’re not coming back for Father, are you?” Gillian’s voice breaks. She’s caught between laughter and tears, so vividly that Noemi can picture her saying, “Did the two of you call just to torment me?”
“No,” he says. “I wanted to tell you that Simon remains alive, though exhibiting extreme mental and physical malfunction. He’s collecting other mechs, somehow controlling them. Simon’s dangerous to anyone on this ship—including you—and to himself. However, I still believe I can help him.”
“So you’re using the life of a small child as a bargaining chip,” Gillian retorts.
Noemi cuts in. “And you’re using dozens of lives as bargaining chips, so you don’t have a lot of room to talk, Dr. Shearer.”
“I’ll help Simon no matter what,” Abel says quietly. “If I can.”
“If this isn’t about Simon—”
“You’re smart enough to have kept checking the main passageways, so I’m guessing you know Remedy’s trapped all of you on this ship,” Noemi says. “If the mechs from the Winter Castle were coming to save you, they’d have gotten here by now. You’re going to starve or freeze to death if we don’t help you—but we’re willing to help you. If you accept a few conditions.”
“Conditions.” Is that anger in Gillian’s voice? Resignation? “Of course.”
“They’re pretty simple,” Noemi says. “One, you never come after Abel again. No mech hunters, no hostage situations, nothing. You set him free. Your father had his time, so let Abel have his.”
One of Abel’s hands curves around her wrist, a gentle touch that lifts one corner of Noemi’s mouth in a smile.
Gillian says brusquely, “What else?”
“Two, you spare the surviving members of Remedy. You give them the medical supplies they need. Then you bring them to the Winter Castle, share your provisions, let them help build this world. The ones who’ve had Cobweb are as adapted to Haven as you are.”
“How did you know—” Gillian cuts herself off, but too late.
“They need new homes as much as you do,” Noemi continues. “Yeah, some of them have done terrible things, but seeing as how you guys basically tried to steal a planet, I don’t think you have much room to talk. They’re used to hard work, and they have some of the skills your passengers lack. They’d make good settlers for a new world.”
In the background, beneath the crackle of the speaker, Noemi hears Delphine call, “We need someone who knows how to make snowshoes!” and has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
Gillian finally says, “All right. We can do that. But Simon—Abel, what are you going to do with Simon? I’ve called and called for him—”
“Help him stabilize his mental and emotional processes,” Abel replies. “I’m not sure whether you can restore him to a growing tank at this point, or whether his memory patterns have been warped by the transfer—there are many variables in play. He began his existence as a human, which makes his experience radically different from mine, but we’re still alike in one fundamental way. We’re the only two mechs in the galaxy who are also… individuals. If anyone can understand him, I can.”
Gillian’s response: “No one understands a child like his mother does.”
No way is Noemi letting her get away with that. “Or like a father? Well, I’m sorry, but Mansfield told you to trash Simon and start over, like that would be no big deal. To me that sounds like your dad didn’t understand you at all.”
Another long silence falls. Abel’s eyes widen as he thinks about Mansfield’s dismissal of Simon, even though Noemi already told him about it. Abel’s pain remains palpable. Maybe people never stop trying to believe in those they once loved.
Noemi decides it would be merciful to change the subject. “Okay, we have a deal. Wait where you are until we confirm that we’ve deactivated the mines.”
The dry response: “I don’t think you have to worry about that one. We’re in no hurry to test them for ourselves.”
“Then let’s save comms power. Vidal out.” With a flick of her thumb, the intraship comm goes quiet again, and she nods to Abel to change the signal. She’s no longer calling the passengers; this time, she’s calling the bridge. “Captain Fouda?”
It takes several long seconds for a reply to come. “Vidal of Genesis.” Fouda’s voice is ragged, his tone like that of a man in shock. “Still alive.”
“So far. We need to talk.”
“We need your mech.” The defiance has bled out of him. All Noemi hears now is desperation. “Human lives are at stake—”
“We’ve bargained with the passengers,” Noemi explains. “They’ll give you the medicine you need if you deactivate as many mines as you can—and give me the relay codes
