“The Persephone,” Abel confirms. He moves stiffly as he leaves Mansfield’s ship. Noemi feels his pain almost as if it were her own—a strange sensitivity that courses through her nerves—and resolves to get him into regeneration mode as soon as possible.
Aside from worrying about his well-being, it feels kind of good to be the one taking care of him for a change.
The Persephone stops maybe half a kilometer away and hovers in place for a moment.
A distant, screeching metal sound makes them both jump, but then Noemi recognizes the faint shimmer of the tractor beam. A moment later, something red and mostly shiny rises through the air—the corsair, no doubt just where Abel left it. The landing bay opens to take it in, and then the Persephone spins toward their location, touching down in a whirlwind of snow as its door pinwheels open. Noemi grabs Abel’s hand again as they run on board.
“I’m back!” She spins as she looks around the bay. “I actually made it back. I never thought I would.”
The ship lifts off again, landing bay door spiraling shut. Abel flips down a nearby jump seat and sinks onto it. “Welcome back.”
It feels more like he said Welcome home.
The inner door to the corridor slides open, revealing Virginia Redbird wearing an orange coverall and an enormous smile. She bounds toward them. “Noemi!”
“Virginia. You did it. You saved us.”
“As usual,” Virginia says, bundling Noemi into a warm hug. “I’m going to be one hundred percent honest here—I’m orbiting this planet, getting nervous because Robot Boy here isn’t checking in, and I figure, it’s time to see how things are going for these two. And they were sucking! What with you guys crashing and all. Which meant you needed me, not that you don’t always.”
“You were right.” Noemi slumps against the wall. Relief feels like the removal of a tremendous weight she’s had to carry for too long.
Virginia’s enormous smile dims the smallest fraction. “Are you guys all right?”
“We need warmth, rest, and food,” Abel says. “More regeneration time. Then we’ll be fine.”
“Then all’s well that—oh, hell, no.” Virginia’s eyes widen as she takes one staggering step toward the corsair. As Noemi takes a good look at it, she winces; its surface has been damaged by multiple blaster bolts. “What happened?”
Abel says, “Most likely, when the mechs searching for us found a possible escape vehicle, they attempted to destroy it.”
Noemi murmurs, “Simon says stay.”
“Luckily their armaments weren’t sufficient to destroy the corsair,” Abel adds helpfully. “They were only able to severely damage it.”
The worst ever at comforting people, Noemi thinks as she puts a hand on Virginia’s shoulder. “Um—we’re so sorry—”
“It’s all right,” Virginia says weakly. “You’re my friends, and you’re more important than my ride. Always. But I just—I need a few seconds to just, I don’t know, flail around and make pterodactyl noises. Let me do that, okay?”
Noemi’s not sure what that means until Virginia grabs her long hair and makes a screeching sound that does in fact sound like a large prehistoric thing in distress, at least as Noemi imagines it.
I should probably leave her to it, she decides. Besides, she has someone else to take care of.
“You,” Noemi says to Abel, bending to sling his arm over her shoulders and help him up. “Sick bay. Now.”
“First we have to contact the Osiris one last time.”
Her heart sinks as she realizes what he means—but he’s right. This is one call they have to make.
“Abel?” The comms on the bridge crackle with Gillian Shearer’s voice. “We registered an explosion on our equipment several minutes ago—were you responsible? What’s happening? Please respond!”
“It was us,” says Noemi.
Gillian doesn’t even acknowledge her. “And Simon? Have you found Simon yet?”
When Noemi’s dark eyes meet Abel’s, she’s silently asking whether he wants to say this himself, or whether it’s too painful. He lifts his head, accepting the duty. “Gillian, I’m truly sorry. Simon is gone.”
A long pause follows, and is broken by Gillian’s rough voice. “You killed him.”
“We had no choice. Both his body and his mind were breaking down beyond repair, and he was endangering human life. I can tell you that it was—quick.”
Gillian Shearer has no use for such mercies. “You lied to me. You lied! You killed my son. The bargain’s over, Abel. We will find you.”
“We’re off-planet, actually,” Noemi says. She’d like to rub that into Gillian’s face, but Abel clearly has more to say.
He looks upward—maybe remembering Gillian’s face—as he says, “Don’t stop working on the Inheritors. The project isn’t quite ready for Simon, or for your father, or any other human transfer. Still, you’re very close. Someday soon there will be other mechs like me. But we’re more than repositories for human thought. We’re—a new species. Another kind of person. Someday you’ll see that. If Simon taught you nothing else, let him teach you this.”
“Don’t you preach about my son to me, you—” Gillian’s voice chokes off. The comms go dead.
Noemi turns her full attention to Abel. He stands behind his own captain’s chair, hands resting on the back of it, more weary and worn than she’d known he could look.
“It cost you,” Noemi says. “Sacrificing Simon for me.”
“I would’ve protected you no matter what. But I’m not the one who sacrificed him. Simon became a sacrifice when his mother and grandfather chose to experiment with his soul rather than let him go.”
The moral dimensions of everything she’s learned—of what it will mean when there are other mechs with souls, whether they should exist, whether they can be protected—this is something she needs to meditate on. As the adrenaline of their flight from the Osiris fades, her urgency to return to Genesis flares brighter in her mind. Here and now, however, she has a more immediate priority. “We need to get you to the sick bay. They have things to repair mechs in the sick bay, right? You’re partly organic.”
“My
