With Abel’s help, getting out is easy. He takes them down to ground level, two at a time on his back, showing no strain at all. The same security-system break that took Virginia hours is something Abel can manage within minutes, and soon he opens a window in the blinking laser grid, through which they all run. Nobody stops running for several blocks, long after the reddish glare of the Marshalsea has faded into the darkness behind them.
When they slow to a halt, Noemi’s breathing hard, as is Ephraim, but both Virginia and Riko look like they’re about to fall over. Abel, who remains completely at ease, ushers them both to a bench as he says to Noemi, “We have to get back to Genesis. If my calculations are correct, it is now three days to the Masada Run.”
“The what?” Ephraim says.
Noemi ignores this. She’d tried to keep up with the time, and she’d thought they might still have another five days, but she got it wrong. The Einsteinian stuff goes beyond what she can figure in her head. It’s okay, she reminds herself. Three days is enough.
“Regardless, I’m not going to Genesis,” Ephraim says. “No offense, but I don’t agree with what you people are doing. Besides, we’ve got work to take care of here.” With that, he glances at Riko, who slowly nods.
“I have contacts on Earth—people who’ll help us hide. Remedy takes care of its own.” Riko straightens as she looks back at Noemi and Abel. “Thank you for coming for me. We won’t forget this.”
Ephraim gives Riko a hard look, one that reminds Noemi how opposed the two of them are. Riko’s a terrorist, whose ideals don’t justify her bloody actions; Ephraim’s a moderate trying to find the best, most humane way out of this for everyone. Will he bring Riko around to his way of thinking, or will she bring him around to hers? Is a middle ground even possible?
There’s no knowing, no guessing. But Noemi decides to put her faith in Ephraim’s good heart. “Then go,” she says. “Be careful.”
“We might meet again yet.” Ephraim smiles, and she sees a flicker of the gentle, easygoing man he would be in another, better galaxy. She hopes he gets to see that world.
She hopes she does, too. “Good-bye, Ephraim.”
They take each other’s hands for a long moment before he turns to Virginia, who leads him through a complicated handshake that involves fluttering fingers and bumping elbows. Finally Ephraim pats Abel on the shoulder. “You’re a miracle. You know that?”
“Hardly.” Abel’s smile is sad. “I cannot believe in the concept of luck, but—good luck, Ephraim. This might help.” With that, he hands over a dataread; Noemi has no idea what’s on that thing, but Ephraim’s face lights up.
Riko only nods to them before saying, “Thanks, Noemi. Now, we have to go.”
With that, she and Ephraim take off through the darkened streets, disappearing into the fog.
As they walk up to the ship, Virginia falls several paces behind in a rare display of tact. By now it would be obvious to anyone how personal, and painful, Abel finds the story he has to tell.
“I was so proud.” His smile is sadder than Noemi knew it could be. “So pleased with myself. The ultimate mech. But I was only a… a shell. A suit for him to wear.”
“You’re more than that, and you know it.” Noemi takes his hand. “Don’t you?”
“I have a soul. But I’m still a machine. My programming still tells me to help him, no matter what. When he told me his plans, part of me was happy for him, that he wouldn’t have to die. Even though the cost of his life was my own.” The disgust in his voice is visceral and raw—like the anger Noemi feels deep inside.
“You broke free, Abel. Your soul is bigger than your programming.” Is that really what’s troubling him the most? More quietly she adds, “I’m sorry he didn’t love you as much as he should have.”
They step through the door into the ship. Fortunately, no security has gathered around the dock; nobody’s after them yet. Abel stops short in the landing bay, and Noemi halts beside him, confused.
“The Daedalus,” Abel says. When she turns her head toward him, she sees him staring at the place where the dedication plaque hung on the wall. “In Greek mythology, Daedalus learned to fly. He made wings for his son, who flew too high, then crashed and died. Daedalus gained the knowledge; Icarus paid the price. Even when Mansfield named this ship, he didn’t forget what he planned to do to me.”
“Then we’ll rename the ship,” Noemi says with determination. “Not a fake ID this time—we’ll rename it for real. Something worthy. It’s not Mansfield’s ship anymore. It’s ours.”
“Let’s get into orbit before we celebrate.” Virginia’s not usually the one to signal caution, which is more reason to listen to her now.
They hurry up to the bridge. Noemi starts prepping the ship for takeoff as Abel slides back into his pilot’s seat. The domed viewscreen comes on, showing the foggy, starless night above.
Abel sounds more like himself now that he has something to do. “Preparing for auto-clearance to take off, and—check.”
At that moment, a communication lights up the corner of their screen, and this one unfolds without Noemi touching the controls once. On the ops console, an image appears—one of an old man she’s never seen before. She knows him immediately. His eyes are like Abel’s.
“Abel, my boy.” He shakes his head sadly. “I take it you’re on board. Your girl must have come for you. Very sweet. But of course she didn’t realize I’d still have trackers on this ship, as well as my old access code.”
“Access codes can be changed,” Virginia mutters. She starts working right away, but it’s too late.
Abel says, “I don’t want to come back.”
“But you do, Abel. You do want that. I know, because I programmed it into you from the start. It’s just that now you want other things, too. Things you were never intended to have.” Mansfield takes a wheezing breath. “Abel, I am hereby ordering you to come back to this house and submit to the procedure. That’s a command from me to you. Come along, now. Come home.”
In horror, Noemi watches Abel slide back from his console and stand up to leave.
“No!” She runs to Abel and grabs his arm. “You don’t have to do this.”
Abel’s entire body shakes. His voice breaks as he says, “Yes, I do.”
She holds on even as he begins walking toward the door. “You have a soul of your own. A will of your own. You can stand up to him, I know you can—”
“So that’s your girl, hmm?” Mansfield can see her; she and Abel are right in front of the console showing his smug face. “Well, she’s cute as can be. Not what you’d call a classic beauty, but she has spirit, doesn’t she? You get that from me, you know. I always had an eye for the feisty ones.”