ABEL DOESN’T LIKE THIS PLAN.

The single strongest conflict within his programming arises from an order that involves working against Earth.

His loyalty to Earth is written into his code. Working against the world of his origin in the war against Genesis betrays all his most critical directives.

All, that is, except one: obeying the human who commands him.

Surely Mansfield never meant for anyone else to wield this authority. But if he’d guessed what could happen to his most prized creation, he would’ve written subroutines to ensure no human could ever force Abel to fight against Earth.

Apparently even the foresight of Burton Mansfield has its limits, which means Abel now has to help destroy the Genesis Gate… and be destroyed along with it.

Without hesitation, he begins a thorough systems check. The Daedalus could easily reach Genesis, but the longer journey ahead will ask far more of their ship. Charts and data written in vivid blue light superimpose themselves on the projected star field. “The Daedalus’s atmospheric, gravitational, sensor, and propulsion systems show various degrees of inefficiency due to three decades without repair or refurbishment,” he reports. “However, all are operational and well within safety parameters. Hull integrity remains solid. Communications will require extensive repairs before we’ll be able to handle more than the most basic planetary and intership messages.” He gestures toward the comms position, which is effectively useless; what communications power they have will need to be routed through the main ops station. “Our shields show sixty percent strength, which is adequate for space travel, including Gate travel, but not acceptable for combat situations.”

Noemi’s expression turns thoughtful as she rests her hands on her hips. “Okay. We’re not going to be picking any fights. Right?”

“Not without your orders,” Abel confirms. “We also have sufficient fuel, as well as emergency rations that, having been kept in vacuum, should remain edible.” They won’t taste very good, if Abel understands human preferences, but that’s Noemi Vidal’s problem. He doesn’t need to eat much or often, and can make do with things that no human would ever consider food. “However, we’re showing instability in the ship’s integrity field. During standard operations, this is unimportant—but traveling through a Gate without a fully functional integrity field is extremely dangerous.”

“Okay.” Noemi nods and sits down. Curiously, she returns to the ops position, not the elevated captain’s chair. Most humans are too hierarchical to forgo these small displays of authority. “How do we fix the integrity field?”

“We’ll need to replace the T-7 anx that anchors the field.” On the screen he brings up a diagram of the part they need, roughly oval-shaped, approximately the length and width of the average human torso. “Ours can make it through one more trip through the Gate. Perhaps two. Beyond that, it will collapse.”

“You’re going to tell me we don’t have a spare T-7 anx on board, aren’t you?”

“Correct.” Abel finds himself taking satisfaction in every problem he can point out. He likes poking holes in her plan to defeat Earth, to destroy him. “We’ll also have to travel through multiple Gates to reach Cray.”

She frowns. “Cray?”

How ignorant is this girl? Her innate intelligence won’t compensate for her lack of knowledge about the galaxy. Abel decides to begin at the beginning. “Are you familiar with the other worlds of the Loop?”

“Of course I am,” Noemi protests, but he brings them up on the viewscreen anyway, five worlds suspended in a circle like jewels strung on a golden chain.

First comes Earth, still vividly blue from its oceans despite the climatological havoc that is leading to the planet’s death. Next is Stronghold, a dull, chilly gray, reflecting the metallic ores dominating its surface. It is a world of miners, and a place where armaments and ships are built; so far as Abel knows, it remains the only colony world besides Genesis that sustains more than ten million humans. Then comes Cray, its harsh orange terrain evidence of its uninhabitable desert surface. Those few humans there—elite scientists, their students, and skilled technicians—live underground.

Next is Kismet, a small waterworld with very little landmass, an oasis for the richest and most famous. It glows the soft violet color of its vast aquatic surface. Finally, Genesis. Slightly larger than Earth, with even more temperate climates. Its vivid, welcoming green might be a picture taken of Earth long ago, millennia perhaps, when it remained healthy and lush.

“As you can see,” Abel says, focusing on the circle of planets projected above them, “we cannot reach Cray directly. Unless…”

“Unless what?” Noemi asks.

“Unless more Gates between the worlds have been built during the past three decades. I would be unaware of them.”

Abel has never had to admit not knowing something before. He doesn’t care for it.

“Build new Gates?” Noemi scoffs. “Earth did the exact opposite. They’ve loaded this Gate with too many defenses to ever get past, and turned space around the Kismet Gate into a minefield.”

“Why?”

Noemi turns toward him. The blue-white illumination from the screen shines on her face, reminding him just how young she is. “The war. Did they not program you to understand war?”

Abel could fully discuss the nations, weapons, causes, and outcomes of wars dating back to the conflicts between the Egyptian pharaohs and the ancient kingdom of Kush. As hard as it is for him to accept that he must die at this human’s command, it may be even more galling to have her talk down to him. “Basic military strategy would call for the use of the Kismet Gate as a second front.”

If Noemi has picked up on his dark mood, she shows no sign. “Exactly. Earth gave up their chance of a second front in the war to make sure the rebellion couldn’t spread to the other colony worlds. So they had to make the Kismet Gate an absolute barrier, to seal us off completely.”

Citizens of Genesis appear to have an exaggerated opinion of their political importance. But Abel keeps to the subject at hand. “Then the Gates shown on this chart are our only vectors of travel.”

He illuminates them, each Gate another point on the chain. The Earth Gate takes people from that world to Stronghold. The Stronghold Gate leads to Cray, the Cray Gate to Kismet, the Kismet Gate to Genesis—at least, before the mines were laid—and finally the Genesis Gate they’re currently orbiting, the one they intend to destroy, which leads back to Earth.

“I understand how the Loop works,” Noemi says. “But I don’t understand why Cray is the only place that will have a thermomagnetic device.”

Abel considers what she’s told him so far. “You won’t have had the opportunity to travel to another planet before. So you are unfamiliar with these other worlds.”

“They taught us the basics, but I’m short on the details. Obviously.”

He’s been stretching out this discussion because it reveals her ignorance. At some point Abel will have to analyze whether he has developed the capacity for passive aggression. “Cray’s planetary core is used to power the massive supercomputer there. As such, their mechanical systems have to tolerate intensely high levels of heat—”

“—which means they can use thermomagnetic devices that would be too risky somewhere else,” Noemi cuts in. “Right?”

She is, but Abel doesn’t bother admitting it. “If we’re to obtain one without anyone noticing us, Cray is the only place we can begin.”

She closes her eyes, breathes in deeply. Abel’s sophisticated emotional-recognition subroutines identify this as an attempt to gather courage. When she opens her eyes again and speaks, her voice is steady and clear. “Then we’ll have to go through the Genesis Gate. Past Earth, past Stronghold. Can we do that without being caught?”

For three decades, the only traffic through the Genesis Gate has been Earth’s attack vessels, mostly Damocles ships. Earth will no longer be on the alert for other ships coming from the Genesis system. Abel suspects they could pass through easily. However, he has spotted a flaw in Noemi’s thinking. “Kismet has far fewer security protocols in place. We would be much less likely to be seen. Also, we would then be only one Gate away from Cray.”

“The Kismet Gate has been mined, remember? Magnetic mines fill an area at least the size of my entire planet—nobody knows for sure, because no ship’s ever survived more than a few seconds without coming back through the Gate or being blown to bits.”

“My memory is eidetic, which means I remember every fact I am exposed to.” Especially ones she told him not five minutes prior. Abel may have to do what Noemi Vidal says, but he doesn’t have to be treated as if he has no more sense than a hammer. “The minefield is effective against human pilots. However, I could pilot through them, recalibrating shields to push the mines back.”

Noemi sits very still, studying him. The lights from the starry screen around them shine on her black hair. “Even the Queen and Charlie models couldn’t pilot with that kind of precision, and they’re some of the smarter ones.”

Apparently her memory is far from eidetic. “As I said earlier, I am a special prototype of Burton Mansfield’s. I possess talents and abilities beyond those of any other mech. Even my genetic material comes directly from Mansfield.” Most mechs’ genetic material is synthetic, tied to no one biological life-form. Abel, however, carries nearly as much of Mansfield’s DNA as a son would.

Noemi doesn’t appear to be impressed by this genetic connection. She rises and walks slowly toward the star field screen arching over them. Her gaze turns toward red-orange Cray, glowing almost as brightly as a star. “If we could get through the Kismet Gate, then nobody would see us. After that we’d need to get a T-7 anx, but we could do that on Kismet, right?”

“Correct. We should have sufficient credits, and the minefield will almost certainly be the only security at the Kismet Gate.” Almost certainly. Not entirely. Abel envisions a field of patrol ships, all of them piloted by Queens and Charlies, which would halt the Daedalus, arrest Noemi, and free him to find Mansfield. But that possibility is so unlikely he can’t understand why his mind even presented it.

Another operational oddity for him to investigate later.

“From Kismet we could get to Cray. We steal a thermomagnetic device, go back the way we came, and return right here. You get into my starfighter with the device, point it straight at the Gate, and blow it to kingdom come. Right?”

She doesn’t mention his destruction. He doesn’t either. “Correct.”

If Mansfield knew, he would be so angry. Angry with Noemi for misusing his greatest creation. Angry with himself for failing to foresee this situation and program Abel accordingly. Mansfield would be angry about Abel’s destruction. He would care. That thought comforts Abel, though logically it should not matter.

Noemi asks, “Do you have to follow my orders even if I’m not around?”

“A mech that obeyed its commander only when observed wouldn’t be much use.”

“That’s a yes.”

“Yes.” Will she always require such simple, literal replies?

But her next words catch Abel off guard. “So you’d keep going with the mission even if I was killed?”

“Unless another human took command of this vessel or of me, yes, I would. However, you shouldn’t be at undue risk during this mission.”

She shakes her head as she turns back to him. “I’m a soldier of Genesis. A rebel. They’d arrest me just for reaching another colony world. If they realize I’m stealing a thermomagnetic device to destroy a Gate? Trust me, they’ll shoot to kill.”

“My programming requires me to protect you,” Abel says.

This doesn’t appear to reassure her as profoundly as it should. “Anything could happen. I gave up my life already, so what becomes of me doesn’t matter. This mission matters. You’re absolutely sure you’d keep going without me?”

Noemi speaks of her own death as a foregone conclusion. Abel wonders what she means by giving up her life, but he’s more struck by the fact that she is as willing to die as she is to destroy him. She isn’t discarding him; she thinks they’ll perish together. Noemi’s plan asks nothing of him that she isn’t asking of herself. Somehow that makes the prospect of destruction easier for him to bear.

Which is a completely irrational reaction. His emotion subroutines truly have become strange during these past thirty years.…

“Yes,” Abel confirms. “I’ll keep going.”

“And this trip we’re going on won’t take that long. A few days, right? Not more than ten or fifteen?”

“Correct.” Though he doesn’t see why they should have to work so quickly, particularly given that she considered waiting to get approval from her superiors. What could be so urgent?

She takes a deep breath. “Then let’s begin.”

Within minutes, Abel has completed all the necessary preliminaries. Noemi keeps her position at ops, leaving him at navigation. So it’s his hand that hits the control to bring the mag engines back online.

A shudder passes through the ship—entirely normal, and yet thrilling. The stars around him are changing. He’s moving. Abel is as close to free as he suspects he’ll ever be again.

Outside, he knows, the silvery teardrop shape of the Daedalus is now trailed by the torchlight blaze of the mag engines. The walls of these engines aren’t made of metal or any other physical material; they are magnetic fields, capable of containing combustion at heat levels that would melt any man-made object. Their invisibility creates the illusion of flame in the vacuum of space.

The ship moves away from the scattered bits of wreckage orbiting the nearby Gate and toward the pale yellow star that serves as Genesis’s sun. The Kismet Gate will be located almost completely opposite from where they were, all the way across this solar system.

Next to him, he notices Noemi gazing at the greenish dot that is Genesis. She thinks she may be leaving her home for the last time. Most humans would find that difficult; some would weep. Noemi simply watches silently as they accelerate, hurtling past the other planets of this system, leaving Genesis behind.

“You should sleep,” he says.

Noemi shakes her head. “Not happening. I haven’t forgotten I’m on an enemy ship with an enemy mech. If you think you can catch me off my guard, think again.”

“This mission will require several days at least. You’re already exhausted. Not only will you be unable to remain awake during our entire journey, you probably won’t remain functional more than another hour or two at best.” Abel glances over at her. “You shouldn’t worry about my disobeying you, or harming you, while you rest.”

“Because you’re so worried about my well-being?” she says, eyebrow arched.

“Of course not.” He smiles congenially. “But as the events of the past hour should have demonstrated… if my programming allowed me to kill you, you’d be dead already.”

After several long seconds of silence, Noemi replies, “If you’re trying to reassure me, you’re not doing a great job.”

“I’m only trying to keep you fully informed.” Abel has to obey Noemi, but he doesn’t have to like her. He doesn’t have to care if she’s frightened or tired. He’s done his duty by informing her of a risk to her health; after this, he can let her run herself ragged.

“Not yet,” she finally says. “I couldn’t sleep yet.”

Without another word, he accelerates, urging the ship faster toward the Kismet Gate. If Noemi Vidal drops dead from exhaustion beside him, so be it.

She doesn’t drop dead at any point during the fourteen hours it takes the Daedalus to cross the Genesis system. But she goes from sitting quietly at ops to blinking hard, to swaying in her seat as if she’s on the verge of falling. At this point, Noemi must have been awake so long as to be near the point of delirium.

But she straightens and focuses again as they approach the Kismet Gate.

It looks just like the Gate leading to Earth, except that this one isn’t battle-scarred or surrounded by debris. The silvery components lock together to form one vast ring. This is the eye of the needle through which Abel will thread the Daedalus.

As he inputs the necessary coordinates, he sees Noemi take a deep breath. When he glances over at her, she asks, “You’re sure the integrity field will hold up for this trip?”

“Almost completely certain.”

She pauses after that almost, which is what Abel had intended. “You can’t have piloted a ship through a minefield before. But you’ve gone through debris fields, right? Asteroid belts?”

The levels of programming within Abel go beyond any human experience. He doesn’t say so. Instead he replies with only the simplest facts. “Only in simulations. I’ve actually never had full operational control of a ship before.”

Noemi blanches. How satisfying.

As they dive toward the shimmering surface of the Gate, the ring seeming to widen around them as they approach the event horizon, Abel smiles. “Let’s see how I do, shall we?”