He looks back once at the X-Ray model that took the journey with him. After delivering Mansfield’s recorded welcome message, it went dark, sat in its corner again, and hasn’t budged since. Its mute, unknowing bulk disconcerts Abel, though he can’t explain why.
The hopper’s door opens automatically, folding out to become a gangway. As Abel walks out, the Item model comes forward to greet him. Like all Item models, he appears to be an East Asian male approximately thirty-five years of age, with the slightly greater sharpness seen in advanced models. Items handle skilled labor, more sensitive tasks such as scientific experiments. They can make assessments; they can even be discreet. Their smiles look genuine, like this one’s does now. “Model One A. Professor Mansfield welcomes you back to Earth.”
Even the air has the particular smoky scent Abel associates with London. “It’s good to be here.” Better if he’d come by his own will—but he’ll put that right soon. “Where is Professor Mansfield?”
“At home, waiting for you.”
Home.
The geodesic dome still shines with the same warm glow. The house still looks like a silvery castle on a hill, and the fog around them could be an enchanter’s mist. Additional security measures have been added to the gate and door, but as soon as Abel steps inside, he is enveloped in comforting familiarity: the smell of wood polish and leather, the crackle of the holographic fire, the self-portrait of Frida Kahlo staring intently from its elaborate frame.
And then, finally, finally—seated on the long velvet sofa—
“Abel.” Professor Mansfield smiles up at him through teary eyes, and holds up his arms. “My pride and joy.”
“Father.” Like a prodigal son, Abel falls to his knees to embrace Mansfield tightly.
But not too tightly. The comforting sameness of the house only underlies how much Mansfield himself has changed. He is elderly now, his pale skin crinkled into folds. What’s left of his hair has gone completely white. His arms tremble even in the hug, and he has lost so much weight that Abel can feel his fragile bones through the thick robe. No wonder a Tare model hovers in the background, waiting and watchful. Mansfield’s vulnerability moves Abel even more.
After nearly a minute, Mansfield finally releases Abel. His smile, at least, is unchanged. “Now let me look at you.” Mansfield brushes back Abel’s gold hair, then frowns as he sees the small cut left from Abel’s fall. “Did that fool Queen do this? You can only add so much sense to a combat mech, it seems.”
“I fell. It’s not bad. But, about the Queen—did you order her to stand down as soon as I had been retrieved? Otherwise, she might go after my rescuer.”
Might have gone. By now, whatever has happened between the Queen and Noemi is long over, and Abel has no power to affect it. He can only find out what might have taken place. How afraid he needs to be.
“The Queen ought to stand down. Hasn’t reported to me, so I’m assuming she followed standard procedure.” Mansfield gestures toward the Tare, who quickly steps forward with a strip of skin sealant. Instead of letting her apply it, Mansfield takes the strip, smoothing it tenderly over Abel’s cut with his own shaky fingers. “She should’ve shipped you off and walked away. Assuming that upgrade I gave her didn’t jinx the works.”
“She deleted the upgrade,” Abel says. Maybe he should reveal why—that the Queen had felt both the temptation and terror of free will. But that conversation can take place at some other time. Other issues take precedence. “Absent specific orders, she wouldn’t have gone after Noemi. Good.”
“Noemi?” Mansfield raises an eyebrow. “This is the girl you were spotted with?”
“Yes, sir. Noemi Vidal.”
“From Genesis, I assume. Not likely anybody else could’ve found you.”
This is of course correct, but Abel doesn’t want to emphasize Noemi’s status as an enemy of Earth. He sticks to what really matters about her. “She boarded the Daedalus in an effort to save a fallen comrade, which failed. But in the process, she restored power and freed me from the equipment pod bay.”
And decided to destroy the Genesis Gate—this is what Abel should say next. But if he does so, he will only make trouble for Noemi. Nobody has asked him directly about her plans, so for the time being he can remain silent.
Mansfield’s gaze takes on a faraway look. “That’s where you were, wasn’t it? Jettisoning the hard data. You were trapped in there the whole time.” He shakes his head, visibly regretful. “So many wasted years. So many.”
“Not wasted.” Abel can hardly believe he’s saying this, but as hard as this truth is, he must admit it. “That time had value for me. While I was there, I had to review my data files over and over again. Come up with new connections, new things to think about. I slept more than strictly necessary. New neural connections began to form. I’m smarter than I used to be. I feel things more deeply. When I sleep now, sometimes I even dream.”
“Dream? You can dream?” Mansfield laughs in happy disbelief. “Dreaming! Are they just memories or true, bizarre, carnival-of-the-id dreams?”
Abel isn’t sure how to answer this. “Well, once I dreamed that you turned into a bear, and I had to carry you on my back into a Gothic cathedral.”
The laughter turns into a cackle. “Real dreams! Oh, my brilliant boy. My ultimate creation. You’ve exceeded my wildest hopes.”
These words bathe Abel in the simplest, most uncomplicated happiness he’s known in a long time. But even this glow doesn’t distract him from what’s most important. “Can you send word to Stronghold, to find out what’s happened to Noemi? She was in danger. We were helped by a doctor who wanted to protect us. We all made it to the hangar before the Queen and Charlie stopped us, and after that—I don’t know if she got off-planet, or was arrested. I would feel more at ease if I knew the outcome.”
This doesn’t produce the galvanizing effect Abel would’ve predicted. Mansfield sits back on the sofa, regarding Abel with amused pride. The Tiffany lamp behind him jewels its light into tangy orange and vivid green. “The girl got to her ship, didn’t she?”
“She should have been able to—”
“But what?”
“If she’s been arrested, you could see to her release.” Abel feels certain Mansfield has more than enough political influence for that. “If she’s free, but hasn’t yet returned to Genesis, maybe she could come here.”
“Would a Genesis soldier want to come here?”
It’s a fair question. And surely Noemi’s top priority will be obtaining a mech for her plan to destroy the Genesis Gate. Why should he have such an illogical need for her to visit Earth?
It doesn’t have to be a visit. Abel says, “I need to know that she’s safe and well. That’s all.”