The Machinery Of Light Part 11

"If I knew that, then I'd-"

"Nor can we just look at you in isolation," says Control, ignoring her. "We have to strive for an integrated framework, no? So take it from the top: Sinclair experiments with something that involves, among other things, retrocausality and telepathy. We don't know the extent to which the processes that underpin these phenomena are related, but you seem to be the primary focus for the former. As to the latter: he takes the three best Praetorian operatives and flatlines them-we don't know for how long or under what conditions-and then zaps them into life again. Only now they've got some kind of connection, albeit not a particularly refined one. They can only coordinate in the crudest of fas.h.i.+ons-"

"It's still mind reading," she says.

"Of course it is. Even if Carson and Lynx and Sarmax can do little more than sense one anothers' presence, it's still mindreading. And yet still nothing compared to what the second batch could do. The core of Autumn Rain. Thirty men and women who were bred in the same vat and who came into the world fully linked. Except for-"

"Me and Marlowe."

"And now Marlowe's no longer a factor."

"Not that he ever really was," she says ruefully.

"Indeed. He was merely the device via which you were bound to your brethren. Whereas you were the key to the whole situation."

"The intended linchpin of the Rain's group mind."

A momentary pause. "I didn't realize you knew that."

"Carson told me."

Control chuckles. "Not like him to speak the truth."

We have to tread carefully," says Maschler.

"I'll say," says the Operative.

Most of the farside's now visible, spiderwebs of craters ringed by mountains. No fighting's in evidence down there. If any combat's taking place, it's confined to mop-up. The Operative looks out into s.p.a.ce. Shakes his head.

"Why the h.e.l.l is Montrose picking a fight with Szilard?"

"We were talking about Sinclair," says Maschler.

"We still are," snaps the Operative. "It's impossible not to. We're all caught up in his plan."

"Caught up? Or do you mean you're still trying to carry it out?"

"I'm not even sure there's a difference," says the Operative.

"You'd better start learning," says Riley.

"Same goes for Montrose," says the Operative.

"She knows what she's doing."

"Does she?"

"She's the president," says Maschler. "And it's her duty to ensure the integrity of the executive node-"

"Political theory's my favorite line of bulls.h.i.+t."

"Screw the theory," says Riley. "Let's talk about the practice. Ever seen a beast with two heads? It doesn't survive. Montrose and Szilard can't share power and they both know-"

"Nothing," snaps the Operative. "Neither of them knows a G.o.dd.a.m.n thing G.o.dd.a.m.n thing. If they did, they wouldn't be losing the f.u.c.king war losing the f.u.c.king war. Sinclair's going to have the last laugh yet."

Riley coughs. "If the Eurasians win, how the f.u.c.k does that help Sinclair?"

"That's the part I'm still trying to figure out."

He's the most dangerous man alive," says Control.

"Carson's a close second."

"Are they working together?"

"Each wants the other to believe that," she says. "But as to whether they really are-"

"Has Carson told you that he still loves you?"

"What?"

"I'm not talking about how he conned his way into your teenage pants. I'm talking about recently."

"He's implied it. It's still bulls.h.i.+t-"

"Hardly. He may well believe it."

"It still wouldn't matter."

"I'm glad you realize that. Insofar as he's capable of such emotion, he lives only to betray the objects of it."

"What does a machine know of such matters?"

Control laughs. "Am I making you anxious?"

"Are you trying to?"

"Naturally. Because now we're getting into the thick of it. What does a machine know of such matters What does a machine know of such matters, indeed. Perhaps I should put that question back to you."

"I'm flesh and blood."

"And software. All of it greater than the sum of its parts. Such a complex piece of work. Such a tough nut to crack. This is where it's going to get painful."

"Even more so when you have to tell Montrose you couldn't pull it off."

Control ignores her. "The key to the problem is memory," he says. He sounds like he's giving a lecture. But she's hanging on his every word. She feels a need to shake him, beg him to hurry up. She knows that's merely part of whatever it is he's doing- "Memory," she repeats.

"Indeed," says Control. "And we need to unravel yours."

"But I remember all of it."

"Do you really?"

"I already made that breakthrough!"

"With Carson as midwife."

"With Carson as ..." She trails off. "f.u.c.k."

"You see? You're walking on quicksand. And even if he led you straight, he may not have led you deep enough."

"What the h.e.l.l's that supposed to mean?"

"It means we have to take this all the way back, Claire. Your memory is the key to you in some manner that we don't fully understand. It wasn't just the means via which your would-be masters aimed to control you. It's bound up in the very essence of your powers."

"You're not making sense."

"It's very simple," says Control, and as he talks she can't help but notice the amorphous light around her is fading. "Your conscious callback accounts for only the merest fraction of what we're interested in. Your unconscious material is where the real secrets lurk."

"You're talking like a f.u.c.king shrink," she says.

"As does any good interrogator."

She tries to reply, but she's having difficulty forming words. It's like the fading light is taking the ground out beneath her-like the gathering dark is sapping her will to resist. She feels herself tossed through the canyons of her own mind and it's all she can do to hang on- "Cat got your tongue?" asks Control. "Think, Claire, what a fragile reed even the truest of recollections are. So much seen and yet so little understood. So much that goes down before we even comprehend it. What was done to you back in the vat? Do you have any idea? What happened in those first few hours? What happened in those first few minutes?" What happened in those first few minutes?"

Darkness envelops her.

They've been stuck in the dark for a little too long now-crawling through narrow s.p.a.ces while trying to ignore the clanking and creaking all around them. Generators whining, KE racks humming: this s.h.i.+p's clearly heavily involved in whatever combat's going on outside.

"How long has it been?" asks Linehan suddenly.

"Just under an hour," says Lynx.

"No kidding."

"Can't you tell time?"

"Not with any certainty."

He's been drugged and rebooted a few too many times for that. Now Linehan's living in something that approximates the eternal present. Past and future seem to be collapsing in upon him. He feels like he's been in these shafts forever. But there's something that's been growing on his mind- "So where the f.u.c.k are we?"

"This is the Redeemer," Redeemer," says Lynx. "Registered with the Zurich s.p.a.ce Commission in 2108. Scheduled for the Martian orbits by the year 2115. State-of-the-art colony transport. But all the time she was shaping up to be one of the heaviest gunnery-platforms in the L2 fleet." says Lynx. "Registered with the Zurich s.p.a.ce Commission in 2108. Scheduled for the Martian orbits by the year 2115. State-of-the-art colony transport. But all the time she was shaping up to be one of the heaviest gunnery-platforms in the L2 fleet."

"That's what covert construction will get you."

"Sure," says Lynx. "And now she's giving all she's got against the East."

"How's she doing?"

"Haven't a clue. I can't access the s.h.i.+p's mainframes."

"You're cut off from zone?"

"The parts that count. That's one of the reasons we're staying mobile."

Linehan nods. Spencer had explained it to him once: the zone's like a series of hills. Different positions give different vantage points. Certain locations are inherent deathtraps. Others allow you to rain s.h.i.+t down upon your opponent. Or just act like you're not there.

"Do they know we're here?" asks Linehan.

"Of course they know we're here. We f.u.c.king crash-landed into their G.o.dd.a.m.n hangar bay."

"I meant are they on our trail?"

"Presumably."

"You don't know for sure?"

"Until I get the full zone picture-"

"I've heard this already." Linehan opens a trapdoor; they keep on crawling.

Stabilized at last," says Spencer.

"And it's about time too," says Sarmax.

It's taken long enough. They've been in this elevator shaft doing nothing but hold on while the s.h.i.+p's been shaking like it's on the point of falling apart, even as it pulverizes the opposition. The American geo positions were speed b.u.mps and nothing more. The s.h.i.+p's starting to put the Earth behind it.

"Not a pretty sight," says Spencer.

It never is when a side of planet gets. .h.i.t by everything and then some. The atmosphere is still burning. The Eurasian reserves have swarmed through the lower orbits. The only resistance they've left is underground, and most of that can be safely bypa.s.sed. Doesn't matter how many American forces are down there as long as their ground-to-s.p.a.ce weapons have been eliminated.

"All that counts now is the high ground," says Sarmax.

And that's clearly the next stop. Hammer of the Skies Hammer of the Skies and and Righteous Fire-Dragon Righteous Fire-Dragon have left the rest of their fleets in the dust. Except for- have left the rest of their fleets in the dust. Except for- "Take a look at that," that," says Spencer. says Spencer.

"b.a.l.l.sy," says Sarmax.

The rear camera feeds aboard this megas.h.i.+p are positioned to capture images between each of the nuclear blasts that keep on propelling the s.h.i.+p ever farther out into s.p.a.ce. When those blasts are detonating, armored shutters ensure instrument integrity. And when those blasts aren't- "Someone's getting danger pay," says Spencer.

Rigid tethers lashed to the sides of both behemoths are splayed out for scores of kilometers into s.p.a.ce. Each cable's towing several s.h.i.+ps, which look to be modified corvettes. They've obviously received more radiation-s.h.i.+elding than usual. Even so, it looks like they're taking damage- "It's worth it," says Sarmax.

"I'm sure," says Spencer.

"The summit of the Earth-Moon system," continues Sarmax, as though he's giving a briefing. "The East has nothing up there now. They've been cleaned out of their lunar positions and their fortress at L4 is a smoking ruin. But the Americans have f.u.c.k-all back on Earth. And now that their geo position has been rolled up they're reeling. They're outnumbered. And we're the mobile spearhead. These two dreadnaughts are getting out ahead of the main fleet so they can strike while the iron's hot. That's why we're towing so many f.u.c.king s.h.i.+ps-they want to get up there as quick as possible with as big a force as possible."

"Probably."

"If you'd managed to hack the Eurasian net we wouldn't need to be guessing."