“Masada.” He gets that inward expression he has when he’s going through his memory banks. “Does that refer to the suicidal stand of the ancient Jews against the Roman Empire in 73 CE?”
She nods. Even saying the words aloud has made her mouth go dry. “If we’re going to win this war, Genesis has to take the Gate out of commission. We need time to rearm, to rebuild our technology. But everyone thought destroying it was impossible. So our generals planned the Masada Run. A hundred and fifty pilots, all in ships too old and broken-down to refit for combat”—Noemi thinks of Captain Baz’s briefing, remembers the sickening twist in her own belly as she raised her hand to volunteer—“if that many ships crashed into the Gate at once, at top velocity, we wouldn’t destroy it, but we’d take it down for a while. Months, maybe even a year or two if we got lucky. That might be enough time for Genesis to rearm.”
Abel’s eyes widen, just like a human’s would. “Your world commanded its citizens to commit suicide?”
“They asked for volunteers. I answered. That’s what we were doing that day I found you, reconnoiter for the Masada Run. It was T minus twenty days, one of the last practice runs we’d have taken. Then the Damocles ship came through the Gate, and—” She leans her head against the wall. “You know, I volunteered so Esther wouldn’t? They wouldn’t take more than one pilot from a household. She was the one who was supposed to live.”
“You believed her life was worth more than yours?” Abel shakes his head, uncomprehending.
Her voice begins to shake. “Esther had parents who loved her, and Jemuel, and she believed when I never could believe—”
“That doesn’t mean you deserve your life any less,” Abel says.
Noemi turns from him, biting her lower lip. Does she want to cry because she doesn’t believe Abel, or because she does?
Impossible to tell, and it doesn’t matter. “Well, it’s my life. I’m willing to give it up to save a whole world. I think anybody decent would do the same thing.”
At first she thinks Abel will argue with her, but instead, after a moment, he only says, “I understand. If we don’t complete this mission within twenty days from the time you found the Daedelus, the Genesis fleet will enact the Masada Run. Not only will a hundred and fifty of your friends die needlessly, but the Genesis Gate will also be inoperable for a long period of time afterward—ironically making it harder for us to permanently destroy it. Now that Professor Mansfield is searching for me, we can expect future potential delays. But I believe we can still return to the Genesis Gate in time. We have the thermomagnetic device already. You shouldn’t worry.”
He’s comforting her by telling her she’ll still get her chance to destroy him. Guilt squeezes Noemi’s heart and lungs until she can hardly breathe. She doesn’t even know whether she should feel guilty, but somehow that makes it worse.
She forces herself to concentrate on something else, specifically one element of Abel’s explanation that didn’t make sense. “You said Mansfield’s searching for you. So did the Queen model. But don’t you mean the authorities are after us?”
Abel shakes his head no. “The broader security alerts have been advisories only—we’re ‘people of interest,’ not criminals or suspects. Mansfield has enough influence to arrange an intensive search through, shall we say, informal channels.”
“Why not send the authorities after us, though, if he has that much power? He could say we stole his ship.” Which, technically, she has—but Noemi doubts Mansfield cares about that any more than she does. “If he did that, we’d be caught for sure.”
“Yes, we would. But Mansfield doesn’t want us arrested.” He ducks his head, the way a human would if he felt bashful. “He only wants me home again.”
Noemi curls her knees up to her chest. “Why is he so obsessed with you?”
“I’m his ultimate creation.”
Even two days ago, that would’ve sounded like pure arrogance to Noemi. Now she remembers a phrase Jemuel uses sometimes: It’s not bragging if you can back it up. “You don’t think he’s come up with something else in the last thirty years?”
“I know he hasn’t. If he had, we’d have heard of them already. But even the enhanced Queen model pursuing us is only a slight variation on the standard.”
“Shouldn’t robotics have advanced in all that time? At least a little?”
“You’re assuming humans want mechs to advance.” Abel sits on the floor near her, scanner still in one hand. His hair is that rich shade of gold that actually gleams in the light. “They don’t want us to be as strong and smart as we could be. Only as much as they need us to be. If we improved too much, we would make humans feel inferior. One mech smarter than humans is probably enough.” After a pause, he adds, “No offense.”
Noemi gives him a dark look, but mostly she’s thinking about what he’s said, and remembering Virginia’s words. Abel has an extraordinary purpose. He’s one of a kind.
And for all the pride he takes in being unique, he must also feel terribly lonely.
She’s thinking about how he feels again. Assuming that he really does feel, that his emotions are the equal of hers. She can’t afford to think like that.
But she does.
Abel insists that she get some rest. Noemi protests that she’s too wired to sleep a wink until she pulls the coverlet over her and instantly sinks into oblivion. When she awakens several hours later, she cleans up, finds a new set of black clothing and boots to fit her, and returns to the engine room to find Abel, back in similar clothes of his own.
“Good. You’ve recharged. I’m on the third sector.”
“Great. Hand me a scanner so I can help out.”
Abel frowns. “The work won’t go much faster. It’s the resets that take up most of the time.”
“It’s not about speeding things up. It’s about giving me something to do.”
His hesitation goes on so long that she realizes she’s confused him. Maybe nobody’s ever volunteered to help do his work before. Maybe she’s the first person who hasn’t treated him like a servant, or an appliance. Well, the first besides Mansfield, at any rate. Just as Noemi thinks she’ll have to insist, Abel hands over the tools.
As they work, Noemi monitors scanners, too, just in case the Queen and Charlie show up, but they don’t. If the mechs came through the Blind Gate at all, they must have turned around again almost instantly. She wouldn’t blame them.
Soon she and Abel have begun to talk about nothing in particular. Just for the pleasure of talking.
At one point she asks, “Do you remember being made?”
“Being grown.” Abel doesn’t look up from the repulsor array he’s fixing. “No, I don’t. I remember waking in the tank upon activation, and sitting up to see Mansfield. Before that there’s nothing.”
“Isn’t that kind of weird? Just—starting up like that, and remembering everything from then on?”