BLAST STRENGTH: CONSIDERABLE. LIKELY NUMBER OF casualties: high. Law enforcement will already be on alert and en route.
Abel’s brain does the calculations while the flare is still expanding. As the humans sprawl on the floor, shock waves send ripples through the station framework. His sensitive ears pick up the screams of frightened, injured people even through the explosion’s roar. And while those around him can only panic, his mind ruthlessly turns to his first priorities.
His primary objective is his commander. Abel must protect Noemi and get her out of here immediately. A soldier of Genesis cannot be found anywhere near a terrorist attack.
He looks around the crowd of staggering, shrieking humans until he sees Noemi—clutching her side, breathing hard, wide-eyed with astonishment, but unharmed. She’s safe. Abel grabs her arm and tows her to her feet. “We have to go!” he shouts, knowing her hearing will be dulled in the explosion’s aftermath.
Noemi looks somewhat dazed, but she pulls herself together faster than any of the others. She glances left—toward Harriet and Zayan, who huddle together on the floor bewildered but uninjured—for only an instant before she starts to run.
Abel matches her speed as they race away from the Vagabond party, back toward the cargo areas of Wayland Station. He could run considerably faster than this and for far longer, but he must stay by Noemi’s side to protect her no matter what.
If Mansfield had foreseen this, he could’ve arranged Abel’s priorities to let him escape on his own. Abel could easily reach the Daedalus before Noemi and fly away free. Instead he’s tethered to her more surely than if their wrists were handcuffed together.
And yet, leaving her behind doesn’t seem like such a tempting idea in this moment. Noemi Vidal is, as he decided the night before, not unpleasant. She is a girl far from home, trying to save her world any way she knows how.
How could he leave her here to be captured, or even to die?
Logic would dictate that the farther they get from the explosion, the calmer the situation should be. But this is not a logical event. If Wayland Station was crowded before, now it’s pure mayhem. Hundreds of workers and travelers dash and shove in a dozen different directions—some fleeing for their lives, others trying to help the survivors of the explosion…
… or gawk at them. Many people have recording devices in their hands or strapped to their arms. This sort of footage could command high prices, as Abel remembers from his early years on Earth. But Abel finds it hard to comprehend that humans don’t share the same directives he does. That their innermost beings don’t demand that they help protect one another’s lives. Shouldn’t that matter to a human even more than it does to a mech?
Some aspects of humanity were programmed very badly.
Noemi has regained her stability and is once again reacting like a soldier. “Should we grab air canisters?” she yells over the din, gesturing toward red emergency boxes near the doors.
“No time,” Abel shouts back. “And no point. If Wayland Station loses atmospheric pressure, we’ll explode long before we could suffocate.”
“You’re really bad at comforting people!” But Noemi smiles as she says it, a flash of humor amid the fray.
The moment doesn’t last long. Hovercraft flashing emergency lights in red and yellow steak overhead through the corridors, the screech of their engines at an even higher pitch than the screams of the crowd. Abel identifies them as medical craft, but law enforcement won’t be far behind.
“They’ll close takeoffs within minutes,” he calls to Noemi.
“I know.” Noemi elbows a gawker out of the way and keeps pushing through the throng. “Can we make it out in time?”
“We can try.” Much depends on the efficiency and thoroughness of the Kismet officials. He and Noemi not only have to take off without being detained but also travel through the Gate between Kismet and Cray before being spotted. Surely the Gates will be patrolled soon—but if he and Noemi can take off for the Cray Gate faster than the authorities, they’ll be able to make it through.
Otherwise, they’ll be captured. Even if Noemi isn’t identified as a Genesis soldier, everyone attempting to flee will be considered a suspect in the explosions. Abel predicts that law enforcement here will be swift, punitive, and likely to punish the innocent along with the guilty.
Which only applies to Noemi, of course. When the officials learn who and what Abel is, they will return him to Mansfield.…
It doesn’t matter. He can’t let Noemi be captured.
The farther into the station they run, the more they’re surrounded by gaudy signs, blinking holograms, and images of Fox and Peter mechs arching their backs and hips to simulate the postures of sex. The scents of sweat, alcohol, and inhalant hallucinogens are thick in the air. A few holoscreens still broadcast the defiant words WE ARE NOT EARTH PROPERTY—until they go dark all at once, pitching the entire station into blackness save for dim emergency lighting near the floors. People begin to panic, shrieking in the unfamiliar space, no longer sure where to go. One of them shoves between Abel and Noemi, and for a moment he thinks the crowd will tow her away into bedlam. But she struggles back to his side. He grabs her hand as insurance that they won’t be torn apart again.
She turns her face toward him, looking so stricken that he nearly lets go and apologizes for touching her. But that isn’t it. She yells, “We have to get the T-7 anx—we can’t go anywhere without—”
Her voice breaks off as a Charlie mech accosts them, wearing station security tags. “You are attempting to access launching areas. This is prohibited during lockdown. Please submit your identification.”
They could try to bluff their way through this, but what’s the point? Abel simply grabs the Charlie by the shoulders and shoves him away, not bothering to check his mech strength. The Charlie, caught off guard, flies back nearly two meters before slamming into a nearby beer kiosk and collapsing in a mess of suds and foam. Normally people would stop and stare, but in the mayhem, nobody even notices.
The Charlie itself sits up, but jerkily, clearly broken. Its pupils dilate as it says in a damaged, metallic voice, “Unidentified mech. Transmitting specs for further analysis.”
Hopefully the authorities will be too busy to worry about any unidentified mechs. Abel tugs Noemi closer. “Are you all right?”
“I can’t believe you threw off a Charlie like that.” She breathes, then shakes her head, collecting herself. “I was saying that we don’t have the T-7 anx and we can’t risk going through another Gate without one, can we?”
“No. Fortunately, law enforcement is very busy at the moment. We have an ideal opportunity for some petty crime.”