Abel may give his service to Noemi. He may give his very life for her cause. His programming offers him no other choice.
But if she’s determined to use him up and throw him away, he can at least make sure she doesn’t enjoy it.
13
NOEMI LOOKS DOWN AT HER CLOTHES. SHE’D HOPED nobody on the lunar station would notice her in this gray, shapeless gear. Now she feels conspicuous. Even ugly.
Don’t be ridiculous. Abel said what you’re wearing is fine for what you’re about to pretend to be. So what if it looks awful? You’re not here to impress anyone. You’re here to buy a T-7 anx and move on fast.
Assuming, of course, that she can trust Abel.
Obviously she has some real control over him here on the Daedalus. Will that hold true when they land at Wayland Station? When other humans are around—humans who despise Genesis, who would shoot Noemi on sight? The nervous energy inside her still surges and sparks, taking her from fear to excitement and back again.
She’s about to visit another planet. Well, its moon. But still! This is the adventure she always wanted, and the mission she can’t screw up. Her deepest dream wrapped in her darkest nightmare.
On this mission, there can be no mistakes. One false step and Noemi dies along with her planet’s best chance of salvation.
Noemi tries to figure the number of days that have passed since she left Genesis—but now that she’s left her solar system, concepts like “days” have become much more nebulous. Einsteinian differences in the passage of time over vast differences in space will have to be taken into account, too. She should ask Abel to calculate it for her.…
But she catches herself. It’s already too easy for her to rely on Abel. By instinct, she trusts the machine to operate normally—but Abel has that other side, that uncanny spark of consciousness, and she distrusts that profoundly. She doesn’t want to get into the habit of depending on him too much. Maybe she can set up a program to count down the days for her.
Should she even let him leave the Daedalus? Surely she can figure out how to buy space parts on her own.
But she can’t let paranoia get the better of her. Abel’s a one-of-a-kind prototype, which means he’s unregistered. He’s so humanlike that the average person would never guess he’s a mech. If Noemi had met him under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t have known either. She has to find out whether or not she can trust his programming at some point; it might as well be now. Abel’s a tool she’s been given and one she shouldn’t be afraid to use.
So she tells herself, and it almost drowns out the eerie feeling she had when Abel said he wouldn’t know much about freedom.
Wayland Station begins coming into view as the ship skims closer to Kismet’s moon. From a greater distance, it looked like just another lunar crater, but Noemi begins to make out the details of the settlement within, sealed beneath a transparent bubble. Dozens of Vagabond craft throng around Wayland waiting for their own permission to land. She recognizes some of the wild painted marks on their ships: Maori designs on this one, a silly zigzag pattern on another, and one that’s simply bright green, like a leaf floating in outer space.
They’re all carrying people from other planets. A small thrill runs through her, one that burns her tiredness away. Mostly from Earth, I bet, but some could be from Stronghold, or even Cray. Today I’ll meet someone from a whole new world. I’ll stand on a planet besides the one I was born on. I’ll look up and see new constellations in the stars.
Genesis doctrine says they need no other worlds. Noemi believes this. But even if you don’t need something, can’t you want it? Surely it can’t be wrong to want to see more of creation. To behold the universe from every possible angle—to be the way in which the universe is able to behold itself. As long as she can remember, she’s yearned to explore beyond any limits.
Now, at last, on this one mission, she can.
As the moon begins to eclipse the soft violet surface of Kismet, she stares down at the planet for a few moments longer. It sparkles like an amethyst against black velvet.
This is the world Esther will shine down on forever. Noemi’s so glad it’s beautiful.
At the moment she would’ve signaled him to land, Abel reappears wearing a plain, long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of work pants, both in olive green, and simply nods at her as he returns to the pilot’s position. His eerie sense of timing sets her on edge, as does his icy calm. He doesn’t speak a single unnecessary word as he steers the Daedalus through the open gap in Wayland Station’s dome, amid a flurry of Vagabond vessels, and settles it onto the moon’s surface. And once that gap has closed, sealing them within the spaceport—a low, gray building that looks nothing like the iridescent palaces of Kismet—Noemi’s wonder isn’t supporting her any longer. The reality of what she’s about to do sinks in, second by second. As she stands in front of the ship’s entryway, waiting for it to cycle open, she feels her body going cold. She clasps her hands in front of her, which keeps her from hugging herself. Abel would probably sneer at her human weakness if she did.
But as she prepares to confront a new planet for the very first time, she doesn’t feel like a soldier of Genesis. She only knows she’s too far from home.
She’s proud that her voice is steady as she asks, “When were you last on Kismet?”
“Never.”
“Never?” She turns toward Abel. “What about the other colony worlds?”
“I’ve never visited them either.”
“Then why were you acting like you know everything about them?”
“My lack of direct experience is irrelevant.” Abel shrugs. “Extremely thorough information came preloaded into my memory circuits.”
“Information from thirty years ago, you mean.”
He raises one eyebrow. “Of course. As I was marooned for three decades, my information about any recent developments is necessarily limited. Will you require me to remind you of this at regular intervals?”
Noemi manages to hang on to her temper, but it’s hard. His arrogance makes her want to scream. “My point is, you can stop acting like you know everything about Kismet, all right?”
“I’ve never claimed to know everything about Kismet.” He gives her a small, seemingly polite smile. “I simply know more than you.”
Why didn’t I push him out of an air lock when I had the chance?
Maybe he can see the dark blaze of fury in her eyes. Abel’s face remains expressionless, but he takes a step back. His uncertainty would please her more if she weren’t freaking out, too. But she’s in control again, and the mech knows it.