The Machinery Of Light Part 37

The Operative turns off the comlink.

"Colonists probably trashed it," says Lynx.

"Or just snipped the connection."

They look at each other. Lynx clears his throat. "Surely you're not suggesting-"

"Sure I am," says the Operative.

And suddenly the whole zone just staggers- staggers- All around them, it's as though the entire zone has suddenly turned to liquid-as though waves are pulsing through that liquid, making everything ripple around them. It's like nothing Spencer's ever experienced.

It lasts the merest fraction of a second. s.p.a.ce folds in around, gives way before her like cobwebs brus.h.i.+ng across her face. Her eyes see nothing. But she feels everything rip through her as she teleports right through the outer perimeter's membrane. It's about what she expected-enough psychic overload to destroy an unprepared mind. Or just give it a brain hemorrhage. And maybe that's what's happening in her head.

But then it all subsides.

Seems to be normal now," says Lynx.

"Nothing normal about that," says the Operative.

They're starting to run diagnostics, trying to figure out what the h.e.l.l just happened. Something just seemed to twist twist the whole zone sideways before letting it snap back into place like a gargantuan piece of elastic. And not just the zone either- the whole zone sideways before letting it snap back into place like a gargantuan piece of elastic. And not just the zone either- "I felt something in my mind mind as well," says the Operative. as well," says the Operative.

"Me too," says Lynx.

They glance at each other.

"f.u.c.k," says the Operative. says the Operative.

"If Sinclair's starting up the party-"

"All the more reason for you to get the f.u.c.k back there and get that d.a.m.n drive working."

"What the f.u.c.k makes you think I'm I'm going to do it?" going to do it?"

"Because kickstarting busted engines on s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps is something I've done once too often," says the Operative. It's not much of an answer, but at this point, he could give a rat's a.s.s if Lynx is satisfied. He only wonders if Lynx will choose to make this the moment-if he'll decide to have it out right here. It'd be betting against the odds, given that the Operative's the expert in physical combat, but he wouldn't put it past him. He watches recognition of the inevitable coalesce on Lynx's face- "I'm taking Linehan with me."

"Be my guest," says the Operative.

Spencer and Jarvin are taking stock. The zone went crazy. The zone's back to normal. But Spencer simultaneously felt something s.h.i.+fting in his mind, too. As brief as it was unmistakable, the implications scare him s.h.i.+tless. Something's almost certainly going on downstairs. And something's now surfacing within what's left of the megas.h.i.+p's zone. A signal being sent in the clear, because they're the only ones left to hear it- We need to talk.

She's somewhere else else now, looking out at a different room-and even as she rips circuitry from the walls to preclude anyone following, she's checking the coordinates ... no sign of zone, but she's using what's left of gravity to ascertain her position. She's moved away from the Moon's north-south axis, into the depths of the farside. The inner perimeter of the Room is right above her. now, looking out at a different room-and even as she rips circuitry from the walls to preclude anyone following, she's checking the coordinates ... no sign of zone, but she's using what's left of gravity to ascertain her position. She's moved away from the Moon's north-south axis, into the depths of the farside. The inner perimeter of the Room is right above her.

Along with Matthew Sinclair.

You're s.h.i.+tting me," says Linehan.

"You wish," says Lynx.

Linehan's in the door of the inner bridge. He looks about as p.i.s.sed as the Operative expected. The idea of leaving the bridge during this madness clearly hadn't even begun to occur to him. Because that would be- "Total f.u.c.king insanity insanity," says Linehan.

"Probably worse than that," says Lynx.

"And yet you're up for it?"

"Piece of cake," says Lynx.

"You're higher than a motherf.u.c.ker," says Linehan.

"Aren't we all," says the Operative.

What the f.u.c.k is that?" asks Spencer.

"Probably a trap," says Jarvin.

Though it's hard to see how. Embedded on the surface of the signal is the frequency for a zone-channel. All they have to do is tune into it to enable conversation. There's no need to inter-mesh minds. No reason to move outside their zone-enclave. In theory, no risk. But in practice- "We'd have to be nuts nuts to take that call," says Spencer. to take that call," says Spencer.

"If Sinclair's revving up the Room, what do we have to lose?"

"The chance to see it happen."

"We're just talking about a little dialogue."

"These days that's the most dangerous thing."

Jarvin shrugs, then switches them over to the zone-frequency. A face awaits them there.

The zone's coming alive within her skull once more-not the American zone at all, but something that's nonetheless the most robust microzone she's ever seen. She marvels at all that clockwork-sensing as she does the machinery of Sinclair's fortress crouching all around-stretching out for kilometers around her, metal burrowed through endless tunnels, intricate patterns all waiting for one thing. She moves down a pa.s.sage, sees a door ahead, knows what it is even before it slides open. She's expected all of it.

Save the voice.

They don't waste time. They get moving, through the bridge's emergency airlock and out onto the hull and- "Don't look up," says Lynx.

But Linehan does, takes in the most demented sight he's ever seen, far crazier than any drug-vision that's ever a.s.sailed him: the two wings of the L2 fleet stretching away on both sides into what looks like forever, the Moon filling most of the sky beyond them. And past that rock are all too many stars- "The Eurasian vanguard," breathes Linehan.

"Let's move," says Lynx.

Broadcasting from somewhere on this s.h.i.+p: the face is that of a woman. Spencer recognizes it from the files. He wonders if that particular file is bulls.h.i.+t-wonders whether this face is, too. All the more so as he knows exactly where this is going-knows what the woman's going to say even before she says it.

"I want to talk to Sarmax," she says calmly.

It's the voice of Jason Marlowe. Or whatever's pa.s.sing for it. It's been so long. Its feel like it's only been a moment. This moment now: it sounds inside her head, and she's never heard anything louder. Even though she can't understand a single word. Because it's some language she's never heard. Chills shoot up her spine while the elevator car she's stepped within rushes through the rock.

They're creeping along the hull of the superdreadnaught like two mountain climbers. They've got magnetic clamps turned up to maximum and have tethered themselves to each other for good measure. Linehan can only imagine what's going on beneath his feet. He keeps expecting DE shots from the incoming Eurasian s.h.i.+ps to sweep them off altogether. He doubts he'd feel a thing-his brain would be vaporized before it even processed the bad news. He tries not to look at the Moon as he and Lynx work their way around some gun-turrets. But it's tough. It feels like that Moon's a lodestone-like it's pulling pulling at him with a force way beyond mere gravity. The middle sections of the s.h.i.+p stretch out beyond them. at him with a force way beyond mere gravity. The middle sections of the s.h.i.+p stretch out beyond them.

That's a good one," says Spencer.

"He's the only one I'll talk to," says Indigo Velasquez.

Or at least, a face that looks looks like Indigo Velasquez. Spencer knows what this face does to Sarmax. He knows the Rain isn't above trying the same trick twice. Spencer's doing his best to think of what he's looking at as a like Indigo Velasquez. Spencer knows what this face does to Sarmax. He knows the Rain isn't above trying the same trick twice. Spencer's doing his best to think of what he's looking at as a thing thing. He meets its eyes.

"You must think we're stupid," he says.

"He's the only one I trust."

"Didn't he try to kill you?" asks Jarvin.

"His final lesson to me."

"And you're not getting near him. G.o.d only knows what voice-activation s.h.i.+t he's been rigged with."

"Maybe we did the same to you."

"Try it, b.i.t.c.h."

"We're razors," says Jarvin. "Sarmax isn't. And you've had a lot more opportunity over the years to get your hooks into him."

"After all," says Spencer, "that's why you f.u.c.ked him."

"You'll pay for that."

"About time you dropped the mask."

Claire," says Marlowe.

He's speaking English now. Her past smolders through her. She knows there's only one way to settle this. Only one way to respond.

"This isn't you," she says.

"So why do you use the second person?"

"What I'm talking to is not Jason."

"That's where you're wrong."

"You're Matthew Sinclair."

"I'm not."

"Then you're his tool. Even if you wear Marlowe's flesh, you're still-"

"You're walking into a trap," he replies.

Pause. "I know."

"So if I'm Sinclair, why am I telling you that?"

"Because Sinclair's trying to make me think you're alive," she says. "To f.u.c.k with my head the only way he can."

"But you do that so well all by yourself," says the voice.

They're maneuvering through a wilderness of turrets and panels. Energies of every wavelength crackle past them as guns discharge at the closing Eurasian fleet. The Moon's moving visibly closer with every moment as the American fleet keeps accelerating. But the Harrison's Harrison's going to need all the margin it can get. Whether the antimatter drive's been taken apart by crazed colonists is anyone's guess. And if the rest of the motors are threatened, then they've got even bigger problems. The two men move through onto the rear portions of the s.h.i.+p. The stern looms before them, the stars beyond that s.h.i.+mmering in the s.h.i.+p's exhaust. going to need all the margin it can get. Whether the antimatter drive's been taken apart by crazed colonists is anyone's guess. And if the rest of the motors are threatened, then they've got even bigger problems. The two men move through onto the rear portions of the s.h.i.+p. The stern looms before them, the stars beyond that s.h.i.+mmering in the s.h.i.+p's exhaust.

Our personal feelings no longer matter," says the woman.

"And that's why you so desperately need to talk to Sarmax?"

"This has gone out of control," she says. "Sinclair's on the verge of winning everything."

"I thought your triad was loyal to him," says Jarvin.

"No longer."

"Bulls.h.i.+t."

"He'll consume us all."

Jarvin laughs. "You just figured that out, huh?"

"We need to join forces."

"Oh sure," says Spencer.

"I'm serious."

"You really really think we can work together?" think we can work together?"

"We've got to."

"Wrong," says Spencer, turning off the channel.

Somehow she finds the strength to switch him off.

Because there's no way that voice can help her. If there really is is a Marlowe clone inside the Room's outer perimeter, then it belongs to Sinclair utterly. By definition. Though in truth she doubts whatever's out there has anything to do with Marlowe in the first place. It's just a voice that's all too adept at mimicry. She steels herself, tells herself her time with Jason is past. a Marlowe clone inside the Room's outer perimeter, then it belongs to Sinclair utterly. By definition. Though in truth she doubts whatever's out there has anything to do with Marlowe in the first place. It's just a voice that's all too adept at mimicry. She steels herself, tells herself her time with Jason is past.

Unless she can somehow f.u.c.k with that past. She's wondering if that might be possible. She's thinking it's the worst kind of temptation. The elevator streaks in toward the heart of everything.

A flash-one among many, but this one's way too close. flash-one among many, but this one's way too close.

One of the neighboring s.h.i.+ps suddenly comes apart like a cheap toy as Eurasian long-range artillery strikes home, spilling unearthly shadows along the hull of the Harrison Harrison. Linehan feels even more exposed than he already is. He keeps expecting debris to start raining down around him, yet he keeps on following Lynx, who seems to know exactly where he's going. The hull's curve is sharpening. The engines are dead ahead.

Sarmax abruptly stirs and pulls himself out of the corner, then starts moving against the craft's acceleration toward the c.o.c.kpit door. The eyes of Jarvin and Spencer track him from the wall screens.

"Where the h.e.l.l do you think you're going?" asks Jarvin.

"Out," says Sarmax.

They're on the rear of the s.h.i.+p, clamped to a wall sloping down toward the inferno of the motors. Linehan feels like he's looking at the very edge of existence-like it's all surrounded by some bubble, and he's finally reached it. The Moon's no longer visible. But a hatch is- "Blow it," says Lynx.

Spencer stays where he is-in the zone, locking down the c.o.c.kpit, keeping an eye on all the entryways. Jarvin's dropped back out-back into his body. He moves after Sarmax, who barely glances at him.