Baz finally cuts in. “She’s got a damned good point, Kaminski. Once Vidal got back to the Earth system, conditions had radically changed. We allow military officers a certain degree of discretion on missions. She used hers. The result might be the difference between Genesis’s certain defeat and a real chance at victory.”
Silence hangs in the narrow stone chamber where the tribunal’s being held. Genesis’s green flag hangs as a banner on the high wall behind the dais where Kaminski, Baz, and a blank-faced official sit. That person must be the judge for this trial she didn’t know she had to face. Noemi stands before them, at attention, unsure how this all will end.
“I petition the court on Lieutenant Vidal’s behalf,” Captain Baz continues, back in official mode. “A record of the events shows that she conducted her mission with due diligence, despite considerable difficulty and danger to herself and a comrade—”
“A comrade?” Kaminski’s veins throb visibly. Noemi wonders whether his head could explode from fury, and if so, whether it would be more satisfying than gross. “Are you speaking of a mech, Captain?”
The steel in Baz’s glare could pierce granite. “If you’d like to give back all the medicines that mech arrived with, then you can sneer at him, Kaminski. But if you’ve benefited from anything this mech has done, it might behoove you to start thinking of him as Abel. Wasn’t your husband one of the first to get treated in the hospital?” Kaminski’s mouth opens and closes like a fish stranded out of water, and Baz gives him a thin smile meant to muzzle him before turning back to the judge. “Looking at the totality of the circumstances, Lieutenant Vidal’s conduct must be considered not only appropriate, but also heroic. I submit to you that the most just disposition of her case would be to dismiss the charges immediately.”
The blank-faced judge speaks: “Vidal overrode a surrender issued by the governing body of this world. She did so without permission, an act of grave disobedience. This cannot go without punishment.”
Captain Baz obviously expected this. “Then I suggest we simply allow her to resign her commission immediately. She will no longer, and never again, be a part of the Genesis armed forces. If I understand Vidal as well as I think I do, that’s punishment enough. And this way, she’s free.”
No longer, and never again, will Noemi be the only thing she’s ever been.
The first time she flew her starfighter into space—the first time she broke atmosphere and looked out at the stars as her destination—she felt prouder than she ever had before in her life. Maybe prouder than she ever will again. She closes her eyes tightly, willing herself not to tear up. Baz wouldn’t suggest this if she didn’t think another, worse punishment were possible. This is as much mercy as Noemi can expect, and she’s smart enough not to throw it away.
But oh, it burns.
When she can open her eyes again to look at the judge, she knows her fate is sealed.
Afterward, in Baz’s office, as Noemi completes the necessary documentation, she says, “Thank you for defending me, Captain.”
Baz is leaning back in her chair like it’s the closest thing she has to a bed; exhaustion casts shadows beneath her eyes. “You’re a good soldier, Noemi. The thing is—you’re always fighting your own battles. Not necessarily ours.”
“I only ever wanted to protect Genesis.” Does she get to want something else now? Now that she’s free to determine her own fate, what will she choose?
What are you fighting, Noemi Vidal? And what are you fighting for?
“You did the right thing, and I’m not the only one who knows it.” Baz sighs as she sees the dataread screen light up as the last forms are processed. Noemi’s been cut free for good. “Believe me, I’m glad we’re on the same side. May Allah help anyone who gets in your way. What will you do now?”
For the first time in Noemi’s life, she has choices—dozens of them. It ought to feel like liberation. Instead it’s terrifying.
“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “I have no idea.”
The freedom to choose is the freedom to fail.
32
“DO YOU BELIEVE YOUR CAPTAIN’S COMMENT WAS A compliment?” Abel says one hour after Noemi’s hearing, as he walks with her by the river with their friends. Only a handful of citizens are in the nearby area; what must normally be a bustling marketplace is quiet. It’s been such a brief time since Remedy and the Vagabond fleet came through the Genesis Gate. While there’s now medicine to help the sickest, recovery will take more than a few days—it will be weeks, or even months.
Most of the onlookers appear more weary than sick. Although most of these individuals gape at the outworlder newcomers and the now-infamous mech, Abel thinks some of the stares are… not unfriendly.
“I hope it’s a compliment,” Noemi replies. Her face is downcast, her energy low. Losing her military commission must be profoundly affecting for her, in much the same way that Mansfield’s death is for him. The authorities that once governed their lives have vanished; the sudden freedom is both beautiful and bewildering. “How would you take it?”
Perhaps humor would be effective. “If the comment were made about me? With my superior strength, intelligence, and reflexes, it would make sense for a religious person to pray for divine help against me. They’d stand very little chance without divine intervention.”
“Mansfield never did install modesty, did he?” Her dark eyes sparkle with suppressed laughter. His distraction is proving successful.
So Abel continues the joke with an exaggerated shrug. “What would be the point?”
She looks up at the sky, shaking her head as if in dismay, but he feels the affection radiating from her.
He continues, “But if I look at the comment as one made about you… I
