He doesn’t want to be anywhere else. After spending three decades utterly alone, he’s been with Noemi during virtually all her waking moments the past several days. Even when they had disliked each other, even when she had treated him as a hostile, he has feasted on the experience of being with a person once more, someone who spoke words he’d never heard, did things he’d never witnessed. That, by itself, had been a luxury he would never take for granted again. She set him free.
But she isn’t just a human who happened along to open the pod bay doors. Noemi is the only person he’s truly been close to besides Mansfield. Abel never expected to feel so attached to anyone else. He knows it’s partly a trick of his programming, seeking a source for all the devotion he can’t give to his creator.
But only partly.
“You need to rest,” Ephraim says to her. “I’m going to give you a light sedative, okay? The more you can sleep, the more your body can do its job of getting you well.”
Noemi doesn’t care for the idea of being drugged, Abel can tell. But she nods. She must feel even worse than she looks.
As Ephraim readies the sedative, she says, “Abel—what we talked about, when we first set out—” Her deep brown eyes search his. “You know how to finish up without me. You would, right?”
Once she gave him orders to destroy the Genesis Gate after her death, if necessary. Now she’s asking him as her equal.
“I would,” Abel confirms, squeezing her hand. “But I won’t have to. You’ll recover soon.”
Would a husband kiss his wife before she went to sleep? Just as Abel decides he would, Noemi’s eyelids drift shut, and her head lolls to one side.
Ephraim takes Abel’s arm. “Come on. You ought to rest, too. I know you’re worried about her, but you’ve been exposed to Cobweb, too. This is no time to run yourself ragged.”
“Yes, of course.” But Abel looks back over his shoulder at Noemi even as Ephraim helps him into his own bed.
“It’s going to be okay.” Ephraim moves differently now that the Tare model has left the examination room—his strides are longer, his voice firmer. His posture has shifted so that he stands taller. “The Tare models aren’t exactly comforting, but they know their stuff. Besides, I’m on the case, too. Noemi’s going to get the best care.”
Abel isn’t sure why this young doctor would be so committed to Noemi’s well-being only minutes after meeting her, but humans often do things for illogical reasons. He decides the motivation doesn’t matter nearly as much as the fact that someone with the correct training and access will be working hard to make Noemi well.
But he will, in the end, discover this man’s true motives. If Noemi’s recovery stalls for any reason—if even one drug she’s given seems inappropriate—Ephraim Dunaway and all the rest will learn exactly what Abel’s capable of.
“I realize it’s pretty dull in here.” Ephraim shrugs sadly at the bare-bones room. “No vids, no books, but hey, at least you can sleep. Basic toiletries are in this box if you need them, that door leads to the toilet, and this is the assistance panel—push it if you feel the slightest bit sick.” This is punctuated with a tap on a square panel within arm’s reach of the bed. “We’d rather respond to a false alarm than miss the chance to intervene early in a Cobweb case, okay?”
“Understood.”
Ephraim nods. His attention is now drifting from the present moment. Something more important lies ahead. “All right. I’ll drop by later to check in on Noemi.”
“Thank you,” Abel says, not meaning it. He will be able to assess the changes in Noemi’s medical readouts for himself. Ephraim Dunaway turns out the overhead lights as he leaves. Now Abel and Noemi are alone again, illuminated by the faint green glow of the readouts above her bed. Her breathing is deep and even; Abel takes what comfort he can from this.
If he doesn’t fall into a recursive loop of worrying about Noemi, he can turn his primary mental functions to a more useful purpose, namely, coming up with a plan of action they can execute upon her recovery. If she gets better within the next few days, they’ll have time to carry out her plan, preventing the Masada Run and destroying the Gate. But their margin of safety grows narrower by the day. He should plan and prepare as much as possible so he and Noemi can get started immediately.
He closes his eyes and envisions the layout of the landing bay and the spaceport, the course taken by the medtram to the hospital. It’s a partial blueprint only, but sufficient for him to get Noemi back to the Daedalus, which is the most important thing.
Next, he needs to figure out how to capture a mech.
Abel feels no inner conflict about this. He knows there’s an enormous gap between his mental complexity and the duller circuits of any other mech model in existence; Mansfield explained it thoroughly, and Abel’s own efforts to speak with other mechs proved it true. An advanced mech can and should be obtained. The Queens and Charlies he’s glimpsed on Stronghold so far clearly serve as military police. They’re found in groups and carry blasters as sidearms. A Tare model, however—smart enough, but with no combat capabilities, its strength level only comparable to that of a human—
Abel catches himself. He’s not just thinking through his orders so he can do what Noemi wishes. He actually wants to destroy the Genesis Gate.
The main reason he wants to help her is because he thinks she’s right.
Mansfield would not have agreed with that, but—Abel begins to smile as he realizes it—he doesn’t agree with Mansfield. He can be completely loyal and devoted to his creator and yet have different opinions. Is this what it means to have a soul? To be a person and not a thing?
Maybe it is.
Abel stands in the Daedalus’s docking bay with the thermomagnetic device in his hands. He looks down in the small, silvery starfighter that’s about to sail toward the Genesis Gate.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Mansfield says. He sits in the fighter, not making any move to get out, and yet there’s no mistaking how badly he wants out. “I shouldn’t be here at all.”
“You can do anything.” Abel hands over the device. “You’ll make it through and destroy the Gate.”
“But if the Gate’s destroyed, how will we get home?” Mansfield reaches up to Abel with one hand, a gesture so plaintive that it makes Abel doubt himself. Maybe someone else could fly the fighter.
“There’s no one else,” says the Queen. She stands in front of the door; behind it, Abel can hear Noemi yelling and pounding to get in.
The bay doors spiral open, revealing space beyond it. But they’re not next to the Gate; they’re in front of Kismet’s blue sun. Abel wonders if he should look for Esther there. If he could find her, he could bring her home to Noemi.
Then he realizes his hands are covered with blood, just like they were when he carried Esther to sick bay in the first place, which reminds him that Esther’s dead—
He jolts awake.