Today is just practice.
Noemi wants to pray like the other soldiers she hears around her.
The soft ebb and swell of their whispers sounds like waves against the shore.
Only the dark star field outside the few small windows reveals how far they are from home.
The troops around her share a mix of faiths.
She clutches it tighter and wishes she didnt feel so hollow inside.
So desperate for the life shes already given up.
Every single one of them volunteered, but none of them is truly ready to die.
Inside the troop ship, the air is electrified with terrible purpose.
Twenty days, Noemi reminds herself.I have twenty days left.
Its not much comfort to cling to.
Esther Gatsons eyes are shut in fervent prayer.
If Noemi could pray like that, maybe she wouldnt be so scared.
Im doing this for Esther.
If I dont save anyone else, at least I can save her.
For a while, anyway.
Most of the soldiers harnessed near Noemi are between the ages of sixteen and twenty-eight.
Noemi is only seventeen.
Her generation is decimating itself.
And the Masada Run will be their greatest sacrifice.
Its a suicide missionthough no one uses the wordsuicide.
Seventy-five ships will strike at once, all running at the same target.
Seventy-five ships will blow themselves up.
Noemi will be flying one of them.
The Masada Run wont win the war.
But it will buy Genesis time.
Her life for time.
No.Noemi looks at Esther again.Your life for hers.
Thousands have fallen in the past few years of this war, and theres no victory in sight.
They even have to limit the use of artificial gravity to conserve power.
Genesis will make nothing new while something old still functions.
The Liberty War had seemed to end over three decades ago; of course theyd trusted in their victory.
Her planet had begun scaling back.
The scars of the war still lingered; Noemi understands that more than most.
But even she, along with everyone else, had believed they were truly safe.
Two years ago, the enemy returned.
Since then, Noemi has learned to fire weapons and how to fly a single-pilot fighter.
Shes learned how to mourn friends who had fought beside her only hours before.
Shes learned how to fight.
Next she has to learn how to die.
The enemys ships are new.
Their weapons are more powerful.
And their soldiers arent even flesh and blood.
Todays just a practice run, she reminds herself.No big deal.
The other soldiers exchange worried glances, but the threat galvanizes Noemi.
She shifts herself into position and takes a deep breath.
Wham!Hundreds of feet slam onto the metal floor at once.
Instantly she snaps into battle mode, untethering herself from her harness and reaching for her helmet.
Her dark-green exosuit feels heavy again, but its supple, as ready for battle as she is.
Because it sounds like the battle is waiting for them.
All warriors to their fighters!
Signs indicate weve got ships coming through the Gate any second.
We launch in five!
Her dread vanishes, scorched away by warrior instinct.
Why are they here?
His skin has gone death-white beneath his freckles.
Do they know what were going to do?
They havent blown us up yet, right?
That means they havent found out about the Masada Run.
The poor new kid nods.
Noemi would like to be more comforting, but the words would probably come out wrong.
Sometimes she wishes she could turn herself inside out.
That way people would see the good in her before they saw the bad.
Battle brings out her bad side, where its actually a positive.
Anyway, no point in trying to improve herself now.
Esther, whos directly ahead of the boy, turns and smiles at him.
Its going to be all right, she promises in her soft voice.
When youre in your fighter, your training will kick in, and youll feel braver than anything.
He smiles back, already steadier.
But Esther never made her feel bad.
Maybe she shouldve asked for lessons.
Immediately she says to Noemi, Dont worry.
You dont have a fighter today.
Only a scout ship.
You cant go out into battle in that thing; you should just monitor us from here.
What do you think shell say?
Sit here, get some knitting done?
Scouts can transmit a lot of valuable info during a skirmish.
Esther shakes her head.
You cant keep me out ofeveryfight, you know.
But her eyes look as stricken as if shed just seen Noemi lying wounded and bleeding on the floor.
She says only, Noemi, its my duty to be out here.
The same as yours.
So let it go.
As usual, Esthers right.
Noemi takes a deep breath and runs faster through the corridor.
Her division reaches its launch arraya line of small, single-pilot fighter ships as sleek and streamlined as darts.
Noemi jumps into her pilots seat.
Noemi gives her the usual smile back, the one that meansEverythings fine.
Probably Noemiisntgood at that, because Esthers the only person she ever shows it to.
The Gate is an enormous, brushed-silver ring of interlocking metal components, dozens of kilometers wide.
This would be beautiful, too, if it werent the greatest threat to Genesiss safety.
This is how the enemy reaches them; this is where all the battles begin.
Some bits of the debris are mere splinters of metal.
Other chunks are enormous twisted slabs, even entire blasted-out ships.
These remnants have settled into lazy orbit around the Gates gravitational pull.
They poisoned their own world.
Colonized Genesis only so they could move billions of people here and poison it in turn.
But worlds that sustain life are few and precious.
They have to be protected.
The signal lights flare.
Disengage clamps: Check.Noemis ship floats free of its moorings, hanging weightless.
The others rise beside her, all of them ready to scramble.
Her hands move to the brightly colored panel before her.
She knows each button and toggle by heart, understands what each light means.Systems readouts normal: Check.
Her fighter leaps forward, a silver comet against the blackness of space.
We have fiveno, seven confirmed Damocles-class ships!Captain Baz says over comms.We caught em by surprise.
Noemi accelerates, her silver fighter streaking toward the farthest Damocles vessel.
Mechs arent afraid to die, because they arent even alive.
They have no souls.
Theyre pure machines of death.
Noemis eyes narrow as she sees the first hatches open.
Thank God, these are smaller ships, but theyre still carrying a powerful mech force.
As the Genesis fighters approach, the mechs begin to shift position.
They spread their limbs wide to expand their shooting range, like carnivores pouncing on prey.
As long as Noemis fought, as hard as shes trained, she still shudders at the sight.
Attack sequencenow!Baz calls, and battle cries echo through Noemis helmet.
Noemi spins her fighter left, choosing her first target.
Over comms, one guy yells, Kill em all!
She banks left, fires back.
All around her, Genesis fighters and Earth mechs scatter, formations dissolving in the chaos of battle.
Like most people of Genesis, Noemi believes in the Word of God.
Even though the things shes blowing out of the sky arent truly alive, theyre…human-shaped.
The bloodlust stirred up inside her feels wrong in a way that all her righteous fury cant entirely cure.
But she powers through it.
She has to, for the sake of her fellow soldiers, and for her world.
Noemi knows what her duty to God is right now:
Fight like hell.
Abel possesses an eidetic memory, so he only needs to see things once to remember them forever.
And he enjoys rememberingCasablanca.
Retelling himself every scene, in order, over and over again.
Thats so long ago, I dont remember.
Its a good story, one that holds up to repetition.
This is fortunate for Abel, who has now been trapped in theDaedalusfor almost thirty years.
(He has been programmed to round off such large numbers outside of actual scientific work.
Form: irregular flashes of light.
The drama stops cold in Abels mind as he looks up to analyze
Blaster bolts.
A battle, no doubt between Earth and Genesis forces.
Abel was marooned here in just such a battle.
After a long silence, warfare has reignited in the past two years.
At first he found that encouraging.
If Earth ships were again coming to the Genesis system, they would eventually find theDaedalus.
They would tow it in to reclaim everything inside, including Abel himself.
Obey his directives above all others.
Preserve his life no matter what.
But his hopes have faded as the war has churned on.
Perhaps not even in the distant future.
Despite knowing down to the hundredth decimal point the ratios working against him, Abel still tried.
Thirty years is a long time.)
Neither Abel himself nor this ship would have been abandoned lightly.
Abel has run through the various scenarios many times, but he cant accept it.
Then again, the battle intensified so much that day that any human escape from theDaedalusmight have been impossible.
In all probability, Mansfield was killed by enemy troops on the same day Abel became trapped.
If anyone could devise a way to survive that last battle, Mansfield could have.
Of course, Abels creator could also have died in the years since.
He was in his late middle age thirty years ago, and with humans, accidents sometimes happen.
Perhaps that is why he hasnt come.
Surely only death would keep Mansfield away.
There is another possibility.
All Abel would have to do is get to him.
Before he can find Mansfield, however, someone must find him.
So far, Earths forces have spent no time searching the debris field for functioning ships.
Nobody has found Abel; no one is even looking.
Someday, he tells himself.
Earths victory is inevitable, whether it comes in another two months or two hundred years.
Its entirely possible for Abel to live that long.
But Mansfield would surely be dead by then.
This battle is coming nearer to theDaedalusthan any other ever has.
Very, very close.
He must determine a method for sending a signal.
It would have to be a low-tech solution, and the signal could only be very basic.
Abel pushes against the wall to propel himself through the pod bay.
But that doesnt mean theyre useless.
In one corner, suspended a few centimeters from the wall, is a simple flashlight.
Not like you, my boy.
And yet he could never hold humanity in contempt, because Mansfield was human, too.
Grabbing the flashlight, Abel launches himself toward the window again.
What message should he send?
Someone is here; someone seeks contact.
The rest can come later.
Abel holds the light to the window.
He has not used it during the past decades, and it still holds sufficient charge.
Then two, three, five, seven, elevenand so on through the first ten primes.
He plans to repeat the sequence until someone sees him.
Or until the battle ends, leaving him alone for many more years to come.
But maybe someone will see, Abel thinks.
He isnt supposed to hope.
Not like humans do.
Yet during the past several years, his mind has been forced to deepen.
Something within in his inner workings has changed, and probably not for the better.
