The Machinery Of Light Part 23

"Stop patronizing me," says Szilard, "I know d.a.m.n well-even if she's speaking through it-that's not the Manilis.h.i.+." not the Manilis.h.i.+."

"But it was intended to be," says the Operative.

"More bulls.h.i.+t," says Szilard. "Lies within lies. Montrose wanted me to believe she'd created a duplicate Manilis.h.i.+."

"She almost did," says the Operative.

"And if she had, she could have switched it on at your very doorstep," says Haskell. "Checkmated you at point-blank range."

"Too bad she failed," says Szilard.

"You don't know the half of it," says Haskell.

"But I do," says Szilard. "Montrose almost ran off the rails completely. In creating a link between you and your would-be doppleganger, she opened the door to Sinclair."

"You saw saw that?" asks Haskell. that?" asks Haskell.

"Don't count me out of the game yet," says Szilard.

Lynx frowns. "s.h.i.+t," he mutters.

"What's up?" says Linehan. Lynx doesn't even look at him.

"I said-"

"I heard what you said."

"You can't admit something's wrong?"

"I'll admit to anything if you'll shut the f.u.c.k up."

Run the f.u.c.king sequences," says Sarmax. says Sarmax.

Jarvin's already doing just that. And it's all Spencer can do to keep up with him; his mind's getting swept up in Jarvin's, up along the wires that lead into the c.o.c.kpit, into the main consoles that contain the executive software for the s.h.i.+p. There are two such consoles. One's Chinese. One's Russian. Jarvin's going for both of them simultaneously, and Spencer's running backup. He's starting to get a sense of just how good a razor Alek Jarvin is-how easily that man's been running rings around him. Now that they're within the main c.o.c.kpit firewall, Jarvin's taking those databases apart-running a blizzard of sequences while Spencer triple-checks them, processes the patterns, scans the implications. The codes necessary to take control of the entire s.h.i.+p are coming into focus. Until- "s.h.i.+t," says Jarvin.

The screens go crazy.

I'm not even Montrose's biggest problem," says Szilard. "Sinclair is-"

"-about to get two megas.h.i.+ps up his a.s.s," says the Operative.

"Or else Sarmax is going to hand the Eurasian fleet over to him," says Haskell.

"Give me a break," says the s.p.a.ceCom admiral. "Sarmax is out of the picture by now-"

"As opposed to you," says the Operative. "Machinery to register mental emissions? Tracing Haskell's telepathic signature? Not bad. And yet-"

"Not enough to get in on any conversations," says Szilard.

"Though that might change if you got your hands on the rest of Sinclair's files," says the Operative.

"Are you trying to make a deal?"

"He might if he actually had those files," says Haskell.

"I hate it when people play stupid," says Szilard.

Data blurs in Lynx's mind. He's bringing all his zone-prowess to bear, triangulating across the decks of the Redeemer Redeemer. But the static that's engulfed Szilard's signal seems to be intensifying. It occurs to Lynx that maybe he's he's the one who's getting punked-that maybe the s.p.a.ceCom marines are closing in on his position even now. He wonders if he should just have Linehan charge on in. He scans back over the the one who's getting punked-that maybe the s.p.a.ceCom marines are closing in on his position even now. He wonders if he should just have Linehan charge on in. He scans back over the Redeemer Redeemer one last time. one last time.

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

"What?" asks Sarmax.

"EMP," snarls Spencer.

"L5's guns must have nailed the c.o.c.kpit," says Jarvin.

Meaning they've all got the same problem. The s.h.i.+p's circuitry just went haywire. Backup comps are coming on, but the hack that Jarvin was running on the c.o.c.kpit has been lost. The three men crouch in that access-shaft while a backup zone flickers on and Spencer and Jarvin try to get things back on track. Only to find that- "No gunnery breakthroughs on the forward armor," says Spencer.

"What?" says Sarmax. says Sarmax.

"That EMP," says Jarvin. "It came from inside inside the s.h.i.+p." the s.h.i.+p."

Not sure I follow," says the Operative. "I don't have-"

"You don't need need Sinclair's files," says Szilard. "You f.u.c.king Sinclair's files," says Szilard. "You f.u.c.king wrote wrote half of them anyway." half of them anyway."

"Or you were there while the recorders took dictation," says Haskell.

"If you want to know what's driving the retrocausality, you can forget it," says the Operative. "I don't know, and the only way to find out is-"

"To take me apart," says Haskell. "Which Montrose is doing her best to do."

"Even as you use that amplifier of yours to ransack the Redeemer's Redeemer's systems," says Szilard. "Turning me inside out, eh?" systems," says Szilard. "Turning me inside out, eh?"

"I already finished," says Haskell. "Your s.h.i.+p's mine. And you're-"

"Full of surprises," says Szilard.

A ma.s.sive explosion rocks the s.h.i.+p.

What the h.e.l.l was that?" yells Linehan.

"All part of the plan," says Lynx.

Though he's a lot less confident than he sounds. Nothing was supposed to happen until they reached Szilard. The plan may just have gone belly-up. Or maybe he never understood the plan in the first place. He hopes he's not getting sold down the river again. He hears something else-close at hand-gunfire- "Someone's lighting this place up," up," says Linehan. says Linehan.

Inside the s.h.i.+p?" says Sarmax. the s.h.i.+p?" says Sarmax.

"Definitely," says Spencer.

"Maybe a malfunction," says Jarvin. "Or maybe-"

"We got combat ten decks down," says Spencer.

Kill him," says Szilard-but the Operative's already moving, leaping at one of the bodyguards, vaulting over its shoulder and landing on its back while Haskell hacks the bodyguard's armor, handing control off to the Operative-who grasps it with his neural software on wireless, starts riddling the other bodyguards even as they start getting their own shots off. Projectiles are flying everywhere. Szilard's image has disappeared. An explosion tears away part of the ceiling- -a long with part of the wall. Lynx and Linehan blast through from different directions, add their guns to that of Carson, catching Szilard's bodyguards in a crossfire. Linehan dodges a micromissile, smashes into one of the remaining bodyguards, rips its helmet off with jet-enhanced fists-rips off the head as well, screaming obscenities all the while. Haskell starts screaming too. long with part of the wall. Lynx and Linehan blast through from different directions, add their guns to that of Carson, catching Szilard's bodyguards in a crossfire. Linehan dodges a micromissile, smashes into one of the remaining bodyguards, rips its helmet off with jet-enhanced fists-rips off the head as well, screaming obscenities all the while. Haskell starts screaming too.

"What the f.u.c.k's up with her?" her?" yells Lynx. yells Lynx.

"It's not her," says Carson.

Not anymore. She's falling away from all of them-tumbling back from L2 as though she's being hauled back toward the Moon on a tether. s.p.a.ce and time reel before her, reveal that her mind's back in that tank again. She's struggling to get her bearings.

Apparently everybody else is too.

"What the h.e.l.l's wrong?" asks Montrose.

"We're still processing," says Control. For the first time, Haskell hears emotion grip that voice-or more precisely, tension. Same with Montrose: "Hurry it up up," she snaps.

"The Manilis.h.i.+'s back online," says Control. Haskell feels everything stabilize around her-a kind of equilibrium. It'll have to do.

"Can you hear me, Claire?" asks Montrose.

"I can," says Haskell. She takes in the confusion that's starting to grip the war-room. The battle-management computers are still functioning, but not much else is. There's something wrong. Some kind of- Anomaly.

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

"We're under attack," says Control.

Fighting underway outside the c.o.c.kpit," says Jarvin. Spencer wonders whether that's too fine a distinction. The cameras show that chaos is breaking loose throughout the Hammer of the Skies Hammer of the Skies. Explosions are going off. Firefights are everywhere. It's total pandemonium. And it looks like commandos are trying to force their way up the elevator to reach the c.o.c.kpit- "Americans," says Sarmax. "Must be."

"Not a chance," says Spencer.

He knows there's no way-not in the numbers that are now wreaking havoc aboard this s.h.i.+p. This involves the s.h.i.+p's soldiers and crew. And the only Americans aboard are in this shaft.

As far as they know.

"It's Autumn Rain," says Jarvin.

"s.h.i.+t," says Sarmax. says Sarmax.

The last of the lifeless bodyguards collapses against the wall, shredded, busy being deceased again. The woman who's neither dead nor living keeps on screaming.

"You've lost," she howls. "You've f.u.c.king lost lost and your souls are forfeit and Satan's going to f.u.c.k you in the and your souls are forfeit and Satan's going to f.u.c.k you in the a.s.s- a.s.s-"

"Shut up," up," yells Lynx-and puts a bullet through her head, sends chunks of brain flying. The Operative whirls on him. yells Lynx-and puts a bullet through her head, sends chunks of brain flying. The Operative whirls on him.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n you-"

"You've got bigger problems," says Lynx.

The Operative can see he's not kidding. Lynx's powered armor looks virtually undamaged. The Operative's got f.u.c.k-all. He stares as his erstwhile razor's guns line him up.

"You were saying?" asks Lynx.

"We need to work together," says the Operative.

"Feel like I've heard that one before."

"He's right," says Linehan. "We need to join-"

"I'm making the decisions," says Lynx.

"Sure you are," says the Operative, "but where the f.u.c.k's Szilard?"

"I'm asking the questions!" yells Lynx. yells Lynx.

"You've lost him, haven't you?"

They hear more gunfire in the distance.

We've got shooting outside the bunker," says Control.

"What the h.e.l.l?" h.e.l.l?" mutters Montrose. mutters Montrose.

The bunker's emergency blast-doors slide shut. Montrose's bodyguards take up positions around her, help her into her suit. Haskell notices the command bunker's been systematically cut off from the zone. She has no idea how that's happening. She wonders what she's missing.

"You," screams a voice.

It's Montrose. She's in her armor now. She strides over to Haskell and starts shaking her.

"What the h.e.l.l are you seeing?" she demands. she demands.

"Why don't you release my f.u.c.king bindings and let me f.u.c.king find out!"

Montrose shakes her all the harder. "Don't think you can f.u.c.king trick me that easy!"

"f.u.c.k you and your paranoia!" yells Haskell. "I lost the fix on Szilard. I got booted from my amplifier. I-get your f.u.c.king hands off me!"

Montrose slaps her across the face-hard enough to turn Haskell's head, nearly hard enough to snap her neck. Her bodyguards move in as though they're about to restrain their boss.

"We can still salvage this," says Control.

One of the blast-doors suddenly bursts inward.

L5's outer perimeter is breached. The American flanks are turned. The megas.h.i.+ps swoop past L5, curve back in toward the libration point. It's going to be over within minutes. Data on the collapsing defenses keeps on flas.h.i.+ng across the screens of the c.o.c.kpit, and the crew keeps on holding course- Even as they try to deal with more immediate problems. The automated guns that protect the shafts that lead to the c.o.c.kpit are getting taken out. On the camera feeds, Spencer catches glimpses of power-suited infantry through a blizzard of static. The two captains are doing their utmost to raise the rest of the s.h.i.+p. They're not succeeding. That's when one of them draws a pistol and shoots the other through the head.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n," says Spencer. says Spencer.