In the evening, after a meal of nutrient mush euphemistically called “bean salad,” they’re shown to their accommodations.
Noemi stops short when she sees them. “What the—”
“Mobile pods,” Abel explains as the vast wall of metal capsules shifts, bringing yet another pod closer to the ground, where two more workers step inside. Other capsules rearrange themselves near the top, each of them taking a new position every few minutes. It’s like watching a jigsaw puzzle solving itself. “These are commonly used throughout the colony worlds for temporary housing at work sites, at vacation spots—even in prisons sometimes, in order to deter escape and rescue attempts.”
“Vidal, Mansfield, this way,” calls the attendant.
“We’re supposed to share a pod?” Noemi tenses and hugs herself. “Just great.”
Abel isn’t much more thrilled about spending the next several hours lying next to his destroyer, but he tries to handle the matter more gracefully. He steps into the pod and inspects the interior; it’s all pale resin and metal, two bunks side by side, a small head hidden by a semicircular inner wall, and no windows. Most humans would probably find it claustrophobic. For Abel, it’s simply a place besides the pod bay, and therefore very welcome.
“I don’t know how you spend your time all night while human beings sleep,” Noemi says as they settle into their bunks, “but whatever you do, don’t stare at me.”
“I sleep.”
“You do?” Her curiosity overcomes her distrust. “But—well, why? Doesn’t that just make you useless for a few hours a day?”
“I don’t need as much sleep as a human, so I’d always be able to serve if needed.”
“But why sleep at all?”
“The same reasons humans sleep. My bodily functions need time to process, plus my memory capacity requires flushing of irrelevant data. Sleep provides a chance to do this. Did they not teach you this on Genesis?”
“It’s not something we specifically went over. We only ever saw Charlies and Queens, and they weren’t taking any naps in the middle of a battle.”
“Understandable.” Abel lies back and neatly unfolds his blanket.
They lie there for a few long moments, wordless, hearing only the grind and thump of the mobile pod framework. When their pod moves, the effect isn’t jarring—more like being in a ship on the water.
He should go to sleep now and allow Noemi to do the same. Yet he feels restless. Still in need of fresh input. Besides, it’s obvious Noemi will require far more time before she can relax enough to sleep in his presence. So he ventures, “What displeased you so much today?”
“What?” Noemi props up on her elbows, looking at him.
“While we were at work in the warehouse, you frowned frequently.”
“I was watching what Riko was up to. Some of it didn’t make sense to me.” Before he can ask her to explain, she sighs. “Besides, that’s me. I frown. I’m unpleasant. I have a bad temper. You aren’t the first to figure out I’m not a… pleasant person to be around.”
Abel considers this. “Why do you say so?”
“It’s obvious.” Noemi shrugs. “Mr. and Mrs. Gatson—my adoptive parents—they always called me their ‘little rain cloud.’ I’m never happy.”
“This does not align with my evidence,” Abel says. He may not like what Noemi intends to do to him, but he trusts his assessments. “You risked yourself in an attempt to save your friend Esther. Then you undertook a dangerous mission to save your world. Here on Kismet, you made sure to find employment for two people you hardly knew, simply because they needed it. You do have a bad temper and I cannot attest to your general happiness or lack thereof, but I would not term you ‘unpleasant.’”
Noemi seems unable to process this. “But—it’s just—well, the Gatsons would disagree, and they know me better than you do.”
“Do you behave toward them as you have behaved toward others during the past day?”
“I… more or less, yeah.”
“Then the Gatsons’ judgment appears both erroneous and unjust.”
She sits upright, shaking her head. Even though Abel is praising her character, she seems agitated. “How could that even be possible? I mean, they’re my adoptive parents. They took me in. Why would they say that about me if it weren’t true?”
Abel considers the possibilities. “Most likely because they partly resented the obligation of caring for you, felt guilty about that resentment, and therefore sometimes characterized you as unpleasant to justify feeling less affection for you than for their own child.”
Noemi stares at him. She asks no more questions, so she must consider his explanation to be adequate.
He smiles, lies down, and closes his eyes. Another problem solved. Mansfield would be proud.
15
NOEMI LIES ON HER SIDE, STARING AT THE MECH DOZING beside her.
Abel sleeps like the dead. Literally. He doesn’t move at all, and if he’s still breathing, his breaths are too shallow to be seen or heard. Is he only pretending? Lying there silently waiting for whatever mechanical signal will tell him to sit up and begin the day?
She lay awake most of the night, unable to sleep, learning the pattern of the pods by heart. Only in the past hour or so has she finally accepted that Abel truly is out cold. How weird, to think Mansfield built this ultimate killing machine but made it human enough to sleep.
Human enough to have an ego. Human enough to see something in the Gatsons that Noemi herself had never seen.
Ever since Abel had spoken about “resentment” the night before, Noemi hasn’t been able to stop going over her memories. In a new, sharper light, so many things look different. Maybe she’s awkward around other people sometimes because… because she sensed that the Gatsons didn’t always want her around. Maybe getting mad too easily doesn’t necessarily mean she’s awful inside.
Even her memories of Esther have taken on another dimension. Noemi always thought her friend was so good to her out of sheer kindness, but now she wonders whether Esther recognized her parents’ resentment. Maybe Esther was trying to make up for it by loving Noemi even more.
You were an even better person than I knew, Noemi thinks. Before she leaves this solar system, she intends to look back at Kismet’s star to see Esther one more time.
A piercing whistle sounds. Abel opens his eyes as the pods begin to move. He sits up straight, as alert as if he’d been awake for hours. “Good morning, Noemi. Our next shift must be due to begin.”
“Do they just… dump us out of the pods when they need us to go back to work?” She slept in her clothes, mostly because she couldn’t bring herself to undress in front of Abel again. At least all she has to do now is get out of bed and run her fingers through her hair.