NOEMI RUNS TO THE NEAREST COMM PANEL AND SWITCHES to full audio reception in time to hear: “—near the Gate suggests imminent intrusion. All military personnel are ordered to combat positions.” But the true horror comes with the next words: “All civilians should proceed immediately to designated shelters.”
Stricken, she turns to Abel. “They don’t do that. Ordering people to shelters, I mean—we’ve fought only in space for years and years now. It’s been decades since they attacked us here, at home.” Earth never wanted to mess up Genesis too much; they wanted to claim a prosperous planet, not a demolished one.
“As you predicted, the revelation of Haven has forced Earth’s hand. Instead of admitting guilt and dealing openly with its citizens, they’re trying to win a victory that could eclipse their own wrongdoing.”
She thumps her fist against the wall, overcome with fury at Earth but most of all at herself. “I shouldn’t have said a thing about Haven until after we’d distributed the cure and Genesis was back to normal. While Earth thought we were helpless, they weren’t in any rush to—oh, God, what were we thinking?”
“We made the best decision we could based on the information we had. We couldn’t have predicted Earth would be petty enough to attack while vulnerable to unrest at home, out of what appears to be spite.”
Is that really all this is? Earth’s pettiness? Doesn’t matter. “I’ve got to get to one of the exosuits.”
Abel puts one hand on her shoulder. “Noemi—you’re not a military officer any longer.”
“Do you think I’d ever forget that? But if Genesis is in danger, I have to fight. If they want to reprimand me, they can do it later.” She thinks fast. “How much work have you and Virginia done on the corsair? Enough?”
“It can fly,” Abel says slowly, “but it’s not a starfighter.”
“It has the ability to disrupt enemy ship signals. That’s enough.”
She runs from the bridge down the long spiral corridor of the Persephone. Abel’s footsteps thump behind her, but she wouldn’t look back for him even if she could. It’s like he said before: This is still her Directive One. Protect her world.
Time to come up with a new Directive One later.
When she reaches the launching bay, the exosuits are waiting. She steps in, puts her arms through the sleeves, and starts pulling it tighter around the shoulders. Abel stops in front of her. The fear in his eyes reminds her of the moment he saw her as Mansfield’s captive. “Don’t be scared,” she says.
“Your life will be in danger. Fear is a natural response.”
“Haven’t you been paying attention? My life is always in danger.”
Her joke doesn’t break the tension. Maybe Abel’s emotions don’t work that way. “We could take the Persephone into battle together, instead.”
“It’s even more useless in combat than the corsair.”
“But I had a thought that—”
He falls silent when Noemi takes his face in her hands. “Abel, I have to do this. You know why. You know better than anyone else. Please don’t try to hold me back. Help me.”
Abel remains still and silent for what feels like a long time but can only be a second. Then he zips up her exosuit for her. As the seams automatically seal, he leans his forehead against Noemi’s. He says only, “Come back to me.”
“I will. If I can I will.” That’s the best promise she can make on the verge of combat, and they both know it.
Together they turn their attention to the battered corsair. As Virginia-ordered penance, Abel’s been repairing some of the damage during the hours the rest of them spend sleeping. A human might’ve done the cosmetic work first, repainting the blackened hull scarlet or polishing the sheen on the fins. Abel’s more rational process has led him to restore primary functions. Noemi slides into the seat and activates the engine to check operations. She’s low on fuel, but she can get to the Gate and back with a margin to spare. The cockpit is again airtight. There’s no reason not to take this ship back into space.
Aside from the fact that Virginia will for sure kill her… but Noemi can deal with that later.
Abel reaches into one panel, performing some last-minute tweak that sharpens her navigational sensors to almost-normal levels. “If you can wait another ten minutes, I could—”
“No. I have to get up there.” That’s not her usual impatience talking; it’s her military training. The soldier she so recently was still lives inside her skin, and knows this battle has to take place as far from Genesis as possible. Every minute she waits is another five thousand kilometers Earth’s forces can travel.
He doesn’t protest any longer. Instead he pulls her close and kisses her for a long, sweet time. She winds her fingers through his hair, her entire body responding. Her mouth is learning how he kisses; her breaths fall into tempo with his. She knows him in her very skin.
The kiss breaks. Abel repeats, “Come back to me.” All Noemi can do is nod.
She punches the controls, and the cockpit slides shut. Abel walks backward a few steps as the landing bay door slides open. The cool meadow breezes from outside ruffle his dark gold hair. She stares at him, memorizing every last detail, until the go light flashes on her control panel.
After that, there’s no time for anything but the fight.