THERE SHE IS,” VIRGINIA SAYS CHEERFULLY AS THE IMAGE comes up on the domed viewscreen. “Earth.”

Staring, Noemi covers her mouth with one hand. Beside her, she hears Ephraim whisper, “My God.”

Even from orbit, she can see how brown and dry the equatorial regions have become. Greenery exists only in narrow bands around the ice-free poles. Noemi learned Earth geography in school, in her pre-world history class, so she can pick out certain places, or at least what they used to be: barren China, still-green Denmark, and the home of her ancestors—Chile—almost completely inundated by the too-dark sea, with only the caps of the Andes poking up as an island chain. The nearby island where some of her people once lived, Rapa Nui, must long since have been swallowed by the ocean.

“Never seen this before,” Ephraim murmurs. “On Stronghold, they show you images, but old ones, I guess. Very old. It looks so green in those.…”

“Hasn’t been like that for a while, folks.” Virginia folds her arms behind her head and kicks back, setting her feet on an inactive part of the console. “Honestly, I think it looks a little better than it did when I left.”

Noemi would like to snap at her for being so blithe about a world so profoundly sick, but she hears the edge in Virginia’s voice. It’s less that Virginia doesn’t care, more that she doesn’t want to be caught caring.

Her family’s down there. Even though her family can’t be much more to her than an idea, even though she won’t have seen them since childhood and probably never expects to see them again—they’re still hers, and they’re trapped on this dying world.

As Earth’s image grows larger in the viewscreen, Noemi’s able to see the sheer enormity of the space junk around it. Every inhabited planet has satellites, of course. Even Genesis, while cutting back on all unnecessary technologies, never considered removing their main weather and communications orbiters. But tens of thousands circle Earth at every conceivable latitude, some of them ludicrously outdated. A couple of space stations remain operational, though they’re so old Noemi can’t believe anyone agrees to set foot inside. Probably they’re operated by mechs.

No standard planetary greeting is broadcast to the ship. This puzzles Noemi until she realizes—the other worlds have to identify themselves, to say why they matter. Earth doesn’t have to. It’s where they all came from, and where they all answer to in some sense. There is no other power, no other planet, that can ever compare to Earth.

To orient herself, she clicks through commercial channels—stunned by the incredible glut of information and entertainment being projected at Earth inhabitants from every direction—and how pure desperation exists side by side with the most trivial concerns. The translation program projects subtitles beneath the broadcasts in other languages:

“—THE PRIME MINISTER TODAY REMINDED CITIZENS THAT THEY BEAR RESPONSIBILITY FOR TESTING THEIR OWN WATER PURITY—”

“—THE BURGER SO DELICIOUS YOU’LL NEVER BELIEVE IT’S NOT REAL BEEF—”

A man stands in front of a cityscape ringed with black smoke, and the subtitles read: RIOTING CONTINUES IN KARACHI AS FAMINE RELIEF EFFORTS FAIL.

“—SOMETIMES THE MECH JUST ISN’T ENOUGH, YOU KNOW?” A woman winks at the camera, nudges the half-naked Peter model next to her; he smiles vacantly in response. “SO WHEN YOU NEED A LITTLE EXTRA TO GET OVER THE EDGE—”

“—THE PROMISE OF BIOMEDICAL IMPLANTS THAT WILL REDUCE, ELIMINATE, OR MAYBE EVEN REVERSE COMMON DISEASES SUCH AS—”

An unnaturally sparkly young man is singing a song in what might be Farsi, the lyrics of which praise powders for your bath that can turn your skin glittery blue for twenty-four to forty-eight hours, while still making it clear results are not guaranteed.

“ORCHID FESTIVAL BOMBER AND KNOWN REMEDY RINGLEADER RIKO WATANABE WAS ARRAIGNED IN LONDON TODAY ON MULTIPLE CHARGES OF TERRORISM.” The screen shows Riko—pale and bruised, but chin still held high as she’s led through jeering crowds to what must be a courthouse. Noemi gasps. Although she can’t deny Riko’s guilt, she’s still shaken by the sight of anyone she knows handcuffed, in Earth’s clutches. “SOURCES INDICATE THAT A DEAL IS STILL POSSIBLE IF WATANABE NAMES OTHER REMEDY MEMBERS.”

Ephraim groans in dismay. Virginia’s eyes widen as she says, “Oh, crap. She knows you, doesn’t she?”

“Not directly,” he says, “but we have contacts in common. If she starts naming names, it’s not going to be long before the Earth authorities find my friends. I’m ruined already, but if something happens to them…” His voice trails off, and for the first time his dark eyes show fear, not for himself but for another.

Noemi shuts the communications off completely and pulls herself together. “Okay, enough of that. Now we find Abel.”

Virginia glances over her shoulder, flipping her red-streaked ponytail in the process. “Any ideas about how we get that started? Abel’s unique, but not the kind of unique you can really pick up on from orbit.”

“We find Burton Mansfield. Wherever Mansfield is, that’s where they’ve taken Abel.” Noemi knows this as surely as if she’d planned it herself.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Ephraim asks.

Virginia gives him a look. “Burton Mansfield is one of the richest, most powerful, best-known human beings on Earth. Somebody’s gonna know where he is.”

“Really?” Ephraim’s surprise is genuine. “On Stronghold, the more powerful people are, the less likely you are to get any personal information on them.”

“Well, on Earth, they love the rich and famous,” Virginia says. “Hey, Noemi, are you positive they won’t have taken Abel to some top secret lab, though? Mansfield’s old as dirt. Older than most dirt, I’d guess. By now somebody else might be in charge of studying Abel.”

Shaking her head no, Noemi rises from her chair and walks closer to the viewscreen. “Abel’s special to Mansfield. Personal. Irreplaceable. As long as Mansfield’s alive, he’ll want Abel by his side.”

Virginia’s hands begin to fly across the console. “Okay, searching for the residence of one Burton Mansfield—and there we go. Residing in what looks to be the most posh area of London, in the same home he’s owned for, wow, forty-six years.”

Of course it would be there, Noemi thinks. That was what Abel answered when the George asked his birthplace. “Then let’s visit London.”

They change clothes—Noemi into a black turtleneck and pants from Captain Gee’s closet, Virginia into the stuff she had in her ship’s cargo hold (jeans and a pine-green sweatshirt), and Ephraim into the only clothing he can find to fit him, a mechanic’s navy-blue coverall. Noemi’s able to retrace Abel’s work well enough to come up with a new fake ID for the ship herself; scans will now identify it as the private ship Atlas. Someone carrying an entire world on their back, its weight bearing them down—she’s starting to know how that feels.

They request landing clearance at the public dock closest to Mansfield’s house, which is closer than she’d dared hope, no more than a couple of kilometers. Virginia laughs at her surprise: “Come on. London’s one of the five largest cities on the globe. One of the greatest powers. Nobody has more spaceports than they do! Except maybe Beijing. Or Nairobi, or possibly Chicago—but, seriously, that’s it.”

“I’ve always watched vids set in London,” Ephraim says as the dock’s tractor beam starts guiding them in. “I may not be Earth’s biggest fan, but I had to admit—London looked a lot more interesting than any place on Stronghold.”

“So does every other place ever,” Virginia says, which earns her a glare from Ephraim. Noemi ignores them both, trying to quiet the strange queasy flutters inside her belly, until the ship settles onto the ground, and then there’s no holding them back.

I’m here. I’m really here.

When she looks over at Virginia and Ephraim, she sees her own fear and awe reflected in their faces. They walk together to the launching bay and stand by her side as she hits the panel. The silvery doors swirl open to allow Noemi to take her first-ever steps on planet Earth.

Beyond the ordinary dock lies a city larger and older than any Noemi has ever seen. On Genesis, a building that dates back seventy-five years is historic; from this vantage point alone, Noemi sees row houses that must be closer to five hundred years old, and a street paved with worn-smooth cobblestones. On those streets are wheeled vehicles, hovercraft, bicycles, and bright red buses. Sidewalks are thick with humans of all ages and races, trudging along with no sense that they’re anywhere special. Billboards and holograms glimmer from various signs and kiosks in eye-catching colors, but not as garishly as on Wayland Station. It just looks… lively. Everything smells chemical and fake to Noemi, but there’s that odd softness to the air telling her that, at some point within the past few hours, it rained.

And for all her love of her Genesis, there’s something about the way her body responds to this gravity, this atmosphere—an easiness where she’d never noticed strain before. Something deep inside her knows this is humanity’s true home.

“When will someone check us in?” Noemi asks. No George has yet arrived to take their information.

Virginia raises her eyebrows at the naïve girl from Genesis. “You’re on Earth now, remember? You don’t have to justify being here.”

“Except to yourself,” Ephraim mutters.

“You’re both as blown away as I am, and I know it, so stop pretending you aren’t.” Noemi pushes up her sleeves. “Let’s just get out there and find Abel.”

So they walk away from the dock, onto the sidewalk, to merge with the rest of the crowds. To pretend that they’re from Earth, too.

After Stronghold, this air doesn’t feel all that cold, but it has a bite. Rain puddles line the streets and fill broken gaps in the sidewalks, of which there are many. The paths in front of the row houses seem crowded enough, but then they turn onto a main thoroughfare, and Noemi’s eyes go wide. Thousands of people, all walking, riding with purpose, most of them not looking up, few of them smiling—and they go on and on, shoulder to shoulder, seemingly forever.

And in those countless faces are some she recognizes: mechs. Two—three—no, more than that—

There’s no ignoring them: They’re everywhere.

There’s a caretaker model, an Uncle, obediently carrying a child on his shoulders. A Yoke trudging along with a heavy pack full of cleaning supplies. A Fox strolls toward her next assignation—or, perhaps, to her owner, if someone wants to keep a pleasure mech around full-time. Sugar, the cooking model, holds bags of produce… or the limp, wan food that passes for fresh here on Earth. In one shop, there’s even a George, selling cup after cup of something that smells like coffee but isn’t.

Are there more mechs than people? No—but there are so, so many. Noemi would’ve thought her time with Abel would have desensitized her to being around mechs. Instead she can’t help contrasting their dull, flat eyes to Abel’s, which are so clear and intelligent and obviously alive.

Ephraim’s hands are in the pockets of his coverall, and he seems less curious about Earth, mechs, or any of the rest. As overwhelmed as Noemi is, she can’t ignore his grim expression. “Are you all right?”

“Depends on what you mean by all right. If you mean ‘not in pain right this second,’ yeah, I’m all right. If you mean ‘not guilty of treason or in danger of being turned in by a terrorist just so she can save her own skin,’ no, I am definitely not all right. I am as far from all right as I’ve ever been.”

“You think Riko would name you?” Noemi says in a low voice.

Ephraim shrugs. “How would I know? All I know is, Watanabe’s ruthless. I don’t know what her priorities and morals are, but they damn sure aren’t the same as mine.”

Noemi has tried to come up with a plausible scenario in which she and Abel forced Ephraim into helping them, something that would guarantee Ephraim’s safety when he returned to Stronghold—and she has come up with absolutely zero. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. If you could pay a debt of honor without it costing you anything, you wouldn’t have really repaid it, would you?” Ephraim sighs as the crowd surges around them. The clouds make it hard to tell, but Noemi’s pretty sure it’s getting darker. Night is coming.

Virginia steals another glance at the dataread in her hand. “We’re gonna take a right, and—whoa.”

They stand on the corner, staring. This street leads up a hill, passing through an enormous sentry gate. A faint shimmer in the air tells Noemi there’s a force field surrounding the entire area. Within the gate are trees, grass, a winding path… and, at the very top, a magnificent domed house, glowing golden and bright in the gloomy twilight.

Ephraim murmurs, “I’d guess we’ve found Burton Mansfield. But how are we supposed to get past all of that?”

“Oh, it can be done.” Virginia tosses her hair. “If I couldn’t get through a force field, I’d be ashamed to call myself a Razer.” Then she drops the cocky act. “I’d need a whole lot more equipment than I have on me, though. And it would take time. Probably a few days of testing different approaches, figuring out how to cover my tracks.”

A few days. Those are days her friends on Genesis don’t have. The Masada Run is so close now. Too close.

“Looks pretty nice up there,” Ephraim says, and he’s right, it does. Noemi can imagine Abel warm and safe there, basking in his creator’s welcome, happy to be home at last.

Wait. She doesn’t have to imagine.

Noemi grabs the dataread away from Virginia, who grumbles. A few quick twists turns it into a viewer, which can be held up to focus in tightly on the house so that she can see the garden.

And there, standing in it, are Abel and Burton Mansfield.

The image slices through Noemi, beautiful and painful at once: Mansfield so elderly he can barely walk, being supported by Abel’s arm. When they smile at each other, somewhat sadly, the affection between them is obvious.

“It’s Abel,” she whispers.

She wants to run to him, to say good-bye if for no other reason. But what right does she have to go barging in on him? It looks like he’s exactly where he wants to be: home.

Which is where she needs to be.

“Well?” Virginia asks. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. He’s—good, I think.” Noemi swallows hard; her throat is tight, holding back emotion she doesn’t know how to process.

“So this whole trip was for nothing,” Virginia says.

Ephraim shakes his head. “Not for nothing.”

Virginia rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know, we checked to make sure Abel was all right, which is what friends do, and I’m not sure how I wound up friends with a mech, but—”

“Not what I meant,” Ephraim says, cutting Virginia off. His gaze locks with Noemi’s. “I owed Genesis a debt of honor. I’ve repaid it. But from where I’m standing, it looks like you owe me one now.”

“… I guess I do.” Noemi lets the dataread drop; Abel’s walking Mansfield back into his house, and for some reason she doesn’t want to watch him walk out of her sight for the last time. “So how do I repay it? Get you back to Stronghold?”

“Too late for that.” Ephraim smiles fiercely. “You’re going to help me break Riko Watanabe out of prison.”