The Machinery Of Light Part 19

Haskell nods slowly. "You "You didn't steal me-" didn't steal me-"

"Maschler and Riley did."

"Right."

"They're s.p.a.ceCom agents."

"They're pretending to be."

"Christ, Claire, they probably are."

"I guess we're going to find out."

"How close to L2 are we?"

"Like they'd tell me."

"Ask them anyway."

She does. Maschler looks at her. "Getting warm," he says.

"And you're s.p.a.ceCom agents?"

Riley laughs. "Now what would give you that idea?"

"Just answer the question."

"I doubt we could do it convincingly," says Maschler.

"You are, aren't you?"

"Szilard thinks we are," says Maschler. "That's all that matters."

"You guys had better-"

Riley laughs. "Like we'd ever cross our lady. She sees everything."

"Knows it all," says Maschler.

"Bulls.h.i.+t."

"Yeah?"

"You guys don't look look like you're crazy. If you're working for InfoCom, then you're about to die. Killing Szilard's a f.u.c.king suicide mission." like you're crazy. If you're working for InfoCom, then you're about to die. Killing Szilard's a f.u.c.king suicide mission."

"Not if it succeeds," says Maschler.

"Even then the a.s.sa.s.sins will die-"

"That'd be Carson," says Riley. "He's the triggerman."

"Or at least the guy who gets close enough," says Maschler. "He's a goner."

"And you're not?"

"We draw danger pay for a reason," says Riley. "And we're going to torch everybody on the Redeemer Redeemer who can link this back to Montrose." who can link this back to Montrose."

"Me included?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head," says Riley. "You won't feel a thing."

"Except for now," says Maschler.

What the h.e.l.l is this?" says Linehan.

"What does it look like?" asks Lynx.

It looks like ice. Sheets of it stretch away on all sides.

"How big is this place?" Linehan asks. He pulls himself out of the last of the wires and crawls through the hatch that Lynx has opened.

"Couple hundred meters," says Lynx. "This is the core of the s.h.i.+p. And over there is frozen methane, so we've got fuel and water from a single locale, and also the backbone of the sleeper freezing units."

"And the route past the outer perimeter."

"You catch on fast," says Lynx.

They extend crampons, start to rappel out onto the slopes of freeze.

Sir," says a Russian sergeant, "your codes."

"Here," says Jarvin-sends them over. At least, that's what Spencer is forced to presume. But now the Chinese sergeant steps forward.

"Your codes," he says. "Sir."

"Again?"

"I must insist."

"Don't you trust your colleague?" says Jarvin, indicating the Russian sergeant.

"I trust my orders."

"In other words, no." Sarmax's voice is coming through loud and clear on the one-on-one in Spencer's head. "Things must be getting tense in that f.u.c.king c.o.c.kpit."

"They've probably got the balance just so." Spencer's thinking fast. "Three more Russians may throw things out of whack."

"But the Praesidium is supreme authority across the whole Coalition. So they have to let-"

"They don't have to do s.h.i.+t," s.h.i.+t," says Sarmax-but the Chinese sergeant nods. The Russian sergeant clears his throat. says Sarmax-but the Chinese sergeant nods. The Russian sergeant clears his throat.

"You're cleared, sirs," he says. "They're sending an elevator down now."

"Very good," says Jarvin-and now that voice echoes in Spencer's helmet: "This whole place is in lockdown mode. G.o.d only knows what it's like up there."

"We'd better be ready for anything," says Sarmax.

"We've got the highest clearance," says Jarvin. "Theoretically, we can confront the captains and take command of the s.h.i.+p."

"Theoretically," says Spencer. says Spencer.

An elevator door opens. Jarvin starts toward it-just as the s.h.i.+p suddenly changes course without warning. Spencer's hurled toward the wall-along with everyone else.

f.u.c.k, she says.

"What?"

But there's no answer. He gets a quick glimpse of what might be Haskell's face, falling away from him as though it's tumbling through some endless s.p.a.ce. And suddenly he's back in the real one-opening his eyes. A boot is prodding against him.

"Wakey wakey," says Maschler.

She's coming 'round," says a voice.

It's news to Haskell. She feels like a freight train just ran through her skull. She senses something fading that might be vertigo, but in reverse-as though she's already hit the ground and is still getting used to that fact. Awareness starts to crystallize all around her-as if all existence is a grid, and she's sitting at the very center.

She opens her eyes.

"Welcome back," says Stephanie Montrose.

They're creeping along sheets of ice. Sensors are everywhere. Linehan can only hope Lynx is dealing with them. He normally doesn't worry about stuff he can't control, but this place is giving him the creeps. As extensive as it is, it's also intensely claustrophobic. The sheets of ice are only a few meters apart at points. Linehan feels like the whole thing could fold up at any moment-like he's about to end up in a glacier sandwich.

"How much more of this?" he says.

"Carson told me nothing rattled you," says Lynx.

They crawl over a slope and along its other side. They seem to have left the central portions of the ice behind. The s.p.a.ce they're in is getting even narrower-so cramped now that Linehan can brace himself against both walls. Soon it's just a tunnel in the ice. He follows Lynx along it, sees the razor opening another hatch. He follows him through.

And finds himself in a small chamber. Looks like some kind of storage s.p.a.ce. There's only one other way out-yet another hatch. But Lynx scarcely spares it a glance. Instead, he sits down in a corner. Linehan looks at him.

"What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?"

"Shut up and take a seat," says Lynx.

Hammer of the Skies is changing its trajectory. The fact that it's doing so without warning is causing no little inconvenience for many of those within. Spencer can hear the intercom ringing in his ears, instructing everybody to a.s.sume the brace position, but the position he's already a.s.sumed has very little to do with anything he had a chance to brace for. He's spread-eagled against the wall. So is everyone else. He hears the voice of Sarmax ringing inside his head. is changing its trajectory. The fact that it's doing so without warning is causing no little inconvenience for many of those within. Spencer can hear the intercom ringing in his ears, instructing everybody to a.s.sume the brace position, but the position he's already a.s.sumed has very little to do with anything he had a chance to brace for. He's spread-eagled against the wall. So is everyone else. He hears the voice of Sarmax ringing inside his head.

"Must be evasive action."

"No s.h.i.+t," says Spencer.

"Wrong," says Jarvin. "We just got a new destination."

Haskell struggles to focus. She's still on that souped-up gurney, back in the InfoCom HQ. The place looks like it's cranked up to even more frenetic levels of activity. She can see screens showing the megas.h.i.+ps. Only they're no longer heading for the Moon.

"Next stop L5," says Control. The voice is coming from one of the consoles. She suddenly realizes that's the console her mind's held in-that she's actually in that console too, watching her body watch her, feeling Control's zone-presence hovering around her. As her zone-view coalesces, so do the InfoCom battle management systems, spread out across hundreds of thousands of kilometers of vacuum. Earth's a lost cause-entirely Eastern now, along with the rest of the near-Earth orbits. Most of the Eurasian s.h.i.+ps are consolidating at the geo. Yet most of the zone-focus is on the East's advance team-the two megas.h.i.+ps. They've climbed about half of the distance to the Moon and have just veered off at a sharp angle, attaining even greater speeds as they race toward L5. Haskell can see the lunar batteries flailing away, can see the smaller fleet at the libration point raining fire down upon the approaching dreadnaughts and the s.h.i.+ps they're towing. The battle management computers don't seem to think it's looking good.

"Sinclair's about to get taken off the board," says Control.

"Don't jump to conclusions," Haskell mutters.

"You'd be advised to avoid them as well," says Montrose-and as she speaks, Haskell feels something tighten around her in the zone-like a vise that's constricting all around her, cutting off her energy, starting to suffocate her ...

"f.u.c.k," she says. she says.

"Let's get some things straight," says the president.

Get up," says Maschler.

The Operative staggers to his feet, pain gripping his head as he looks around.

"Same as you left it," says Riley.

And all too familiar. That cargo chamber, the two InfoCom agents, that sarcophagus-suit-and the woman within it. Unconscious again now.

"So who is she, really?" he asks.

"No one," says Maschler.

"A temporary receptacle," says Riley.

"Sure, but what the h.e.l.l's the receptacle?"

"Cloned body," says Maschler. "Implanted with an artificial personality construct. A primitive one."

"But effective," says Riley.

"Enough to get us near Szilard?" says the Operative.

"We're about to find out."

So when do we start the run?" asks Linehan.

"Earth to Linehan: we already did."

Yet for now they're staying put. They've been marking time for a few minutes now. Linehan's starting to get antsy. All the more so as he gets that Lynx has taken him in tow for muscle-and that the razor must be badly in need of that muscle to try to leverage him him.

Or else there's another angle to all this.

"You've been using me," says Linehan.