The Machinery Of Light Part 42

"What do you think I've already done?"

"I think you're being very foolish."

"When I want your opinion, you'll be the first to know."

"Matthew thinks you're being very foolish." thinks you're being very foolish."

"Which is why he's coming after me."

"And you're not moving fast enough."

"He's afraid of me, isn't he."

"Try to have some perspective, Claire."

"I'll show you f.u.c.ks a thing or two about perspective."

"Will you really?" Control laughs, and the noise is hideous. "Szilard's fed a thousand soldiers into this labyrinth already. None of them made it more than five seconds. We'll see how much better you can do. Give the old man a run for his money-why not? All the better, in fact. We need a fighter. We bred bred a fighter. Someone who'll resist to the end of existence and beyond." a fighter. Someone who'll resist to the end of existence and beyond."

"Precisely," she says-and hits his mind full force.

What's the problem?" yells Spencer.

"It may be a decoy," says Jarvin.

"f.u.c.k."

It's hard to tell. Which is probably the point. It's made all the tougher by the fact that they've got no option than to stay on these rails. Because it's all linear. There's nothing in here but this shaft. They plunge onward while the pursuit closes in above them and they start to face up to the fact that the real pursuers may be elsewhere- "Keep your eye on what's below us," says Jarvin.

"My thoughts exactly," mutters Spencer.

Lynx and Linehan impact onto the core of Szilard's formation, slicing through it, blasting s.h.i.+t aside-bombs flung off to nail huge tractor-tanks trying to maneuver down rift-galleries ... Lynx is splintering the zone in the faces of the Com marines as Linehan fires away. Bodies are flying.

"He's moving," says the Operative.

"I see it," says Velasquez.

Szilard's dwindling forces are still heading forward. The Operative takes a look at the fading zone sensors way overhead, looks at the camera-feeds on all those endless kilometers of upper levels, the lunar cities swarming with the ravaging Eurasian infantry, the slaughter now developing among the civilian populations-they are sparing no one, the Operative notes. He starts detecting wave anomalies radiating out from the Room- -as the vanguard of Szilard's bodyguards slams straight into Sarmax and Velasquez's position, shape-charges eviscerating the marines as their second rank comes up. Sarmax can see Szilard's retinue accelerating even further, abandoning most of the troops and dodging past his position- "Suicide run now," says Carson.

"Or he knows something we don't," says Lynx.

"I'm picking up something weird from the labyrinth," says Sarmax.

It's like all the ambience around her is really a liquid through which she's swimming-like she's still back in that tank in Montrose's bunker beneath Korolev-like all of it was memory or the event horizon of the initial drug surge ... she stares at Control, who wears way too many faces; she composes her own while she slices straight through him, crus.h.i.+ng in on his cognition-"How's it f.u.c.king feel," she's hissing-and she can sense he's she's hissing-and she can sense he's hurting hurting, and writhing; his mind slithers out of her grasp, retreats in disarray while she powers past him and through the other side of membrane. She stumbles through the far side of the labyrinth, emerging in a cave. Marines stare at her, start falling to their knees.

Picking up something ahead," says Jarvin.

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

Maybe it's the thing they've been running from. Maybe it's something new. It doesn't matter. They've got no choice but to go straight through it. They accelerate, start ripping out the elevator floor, getting ready to open up on whatever materializes in the shaft below. They're almost on it.

Lynx and Linehan start the final run, vectoring in on Szilard's position at near point-blank range. The best that can be said about the marines' resistance is that it's heroic. Lynx's mind flays the meat of cerebellum as he uses the zone like a whip and augments the guns of Linehan, who's roaring down the tunnel and into a cavern, straight onto one of three Remoraz-cla.s.s crawlers moving like mountain goats down the walls. One of the crawlers crashes into the other as Lynx destroys their software: both crawlers lose their grip, tumble exploding to the cavern floor. Linehan's doing his best to get through the armor of the thing he's hanging onto. Marines elsewhere in the cavern start firing at him-and then Carson and Maschler and Riley come in through a different entrance and start cleaning them up. Linehan's tearing off the treads of the crawler, ripping out its rocket engines to strand it as a metal coffin. He sticks several shape-charges onto the side, jets away. Lynx enters the room as they detonate.

Get him," says the Operative.

But Maschler and Riley are already on it-joining up with Linehan to apprehend any survivors, closing on the president's presumed position. The Operative and Lynx alight on opposite walls of the cavern-supervising the salvage operation that's going on below while they scan- "Executive node intact," says Lynx.

"Roger that," says the Operative.

But he's also picking up intensifying pulses from the direction of the labyrinth-from the direction of the Room-like a tsunami building- "The old man's going for it," he says.

"Easy," says Lynx. "We'll take it as it comes."

"Clear," shouts Linehan. Lynx and the Operative vector down to the ledge on which the wrecked vehicle's laying while their three mechs take up covering positions. In short order Lynx and the Operative stand above Jharek Szilard, whom they've propped up against the side of the crawler. Blood cakes the inside of his armor. He's still alive, but only barely. Lynx laughs.

"Nice to see you again, Admiral."

Szilard shrugs-winces. "Played it ... best I could ..."

"No disputing that," says the Operative.

"But ... didn't have your minds minds ..." ..."

"You wouldn't want want our minds." our minds."

"I'd have ... given anything for them ..."

"To dare to modify yourself like Sinclair," says Lynx.

Szilard shakes his head. "So here's everything I know," he mutters, beaming over all key Com files.

"And the executive node?" asks Lynx.

Szilard flips the Operative a chip, who nods as he catches it- "You realize this won't save you?"

"Nothing can save me," says Szilard. "Sinclair's mind is swallowing us all-"

"You feel it too?"

"How could I not?"

The Operative nods-shoots Szilard through the head and slots the chip into an interface in one of his guns.

"How's it feel to be president?" says Lynx.

Aman could ask for better circ.u.mstances," says a woman's voice. Sarmax and the Rain triad blast into the chamber, take up positions above the mechs, point their weapons- "Sarmax gets to be the prez," adds Velasquez.

"You really think it matters?" says Lynx.

"It's our only chance of fending off whatever the f.u.c.k's coming up from the Room," says Sarmax. "We need to combine minds far more seamlessly than we've done so far. One of us is going to have to step up and be the focal node."

"And you really think that should be you?" you?" says Lynx. says Lynx.

"I don't know what to think," says Sarmax.

"But Indigo does," says Carson. "f.u.c.k, talk about upward mobility. We give this thing to you, and she'll she'll be running things." be running things."

Velasquez shrugs. "I've got the strongest mind of anyone here."

"Bulls.h.i.+t," says Carson.

"I'm the last leader of the last real real Rain triad." Rain triad."

"And I sat at the right hand of Matthew Sinclair while we cooked you f.u.c.ks up."

"And you both never knew when to settle," says Sarmax. He feels like existence itself is beating against his face. The force that's surging in from the Room seems to be taking on an almost physical form, it's that strong. Sarmax looks at Velasquez. "Kid, let him have the f.u.c.king node. We've got no time-"

"That's for sure," says Claire Haskell.

She steps into the cavern and she can see the effect she's having on them-can see that at least some of them can see the auras she's radiating. She can see that they get it-that what they thought were psychic shockwaves emanating from the Room was actually her approaching their position. She stares for a long moment around the cavern-the shattered vehicles, the corpse of Szilard, the suited figures awaiting her next move. Her mind leaps out from there to encompa.s.s all the Moon beyond that, flitting past the Eurasians sweeping in from every direction upon the disintegrating American perimeters to focus in upon one remote corner of the nearside where Spencer and Jarvin are arriving in a room that contains the equipment they've been seeking. Her mind drops directions into Spencer's head even as she notices Linehan dropping to his knees.

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

Linehan gets up, backs away. His face looks ashen. The Operative wonders whether the ayahuasca has made him more or less able to accept everything that's going on. He wonders what Haskell must be feeling right now-if it's even Haskell they're dealing with- "So what's this about you being president?" she asks.

"That's what we were discussing," says Velasquez.

"There's nothing to be president of," says Haskell evenly.

"Surely someone has to run the resistance," says Lynx.

"That'd be me," says Claire Haskell. The Operative can feel her reaching into his head, activating the executive node, sending out the orders-her mind racing out to all the fragments of the zone in the American forces now fighting across the lunar environs- MY NAME IS M MANILIs.h.i.+. THE RUMORS OF MY EXISTENCE ARE TRUE. I LEAPT INTO LEAPT INTO S SOUTH P POLE WHILE ALL YOUR CAMERAS WATCHED AND ALL YOUR GUNS COULD DO NOTHING. I FOUGHT AT THE SIDE OF FOUGHT AT THE SIDE OF P PRESIDENT H HARRISON. I'M HERE TO RALLY ALL A AMERICAN FORCES. I CALL UPON ALL WHO ARE STILL ALIVE TO COMBINE-THOSE WHO SERVED CALL UPON ALL WHO ARE STILL ALIVE TO COMBINE-THOSE WHO SERVED H HARRISON, THOSE WHO SERVED M MONTROSE OR S SZILARD-TO REMEMBER THAT WE ARE STILL THE U UNITED S STATES. FIGHT THE E EAST WITH EVERY MEANS AT YOUR DISPOSAL WHILE I I TEAR THEM APART WITH MY MIND, WHICH TEAR THEM APART WITH MY MIND, WHICH G G.o.d H HIMSELF SENT TO LIGHT UP OUR DARKEST HOUR. FIGHT ON, FOR OUR CAUSE IS JUST. FIGHT ON, AND MAY THE HEAVENS FIGHT FOR US.

I thought you said there was nothing worth being president of," says Lynx. thought you said there was nothing worth being president of," says Lynx.

"There isn't," says Haskell.

They stare at her.

"It's just a rearguard action," she says. "Buy us some time to get back to the Room; keep the Eurasians from that door as long as possible."

Velasquez looks confused. "Your mind can't-"

"-stop the Eurasians in their tracks? I'm not that that good." good."

"Not yet," says the Operative.

She shrugs. "I could probably drive the first hundred thousand of them nuts, but the odds have become overwhelming. We're outnumbered by at least ten to one. And as the bulk of their fleet lands they'll eventually just send in waves of robots shorn from zone."

"No one one has an angle on the Eurasians?" asks Sarmax. has an angle on the Eurasians?" asks Sarmax.

"I a.s.sumed that someone someone was controlling them," says Lynx. was controlling them," says Lynx.

"That someone being Sinclair?"

"Or one of the other Rain triads," says Sarmax.

"The Eurasians no longer matter," says Haskell.

What about us?" asks Linehan. He's daring now to look at this woman who seems so familiar-realizes now he's seen her before, but how he failed to see her for real he has no idea. Because now there are colors dripping off her, and some kind of energy glowing in her that's a pale fraction of something that's emanating from the rock below. Linehan realizes his mind's come totally apart. And if it hasn't, then he's probably died and has reached the afterlife for real. He knows how afterlifes work, too-one false step and you're f.u.c.ked for all eternity. Only by following this woman can he hope to stay true. She's giving orders now, and everyone's scrambling to carry them out-powering up their jets, following her ever deeper into Moon- Where the h.e.l.l are we going?" asks the Operative.

"You really think I'm going to talk to you you?" says Haskell.

He figured it was worth a try. They're heading down a series of ramps, moving through ground that's obviously already been prepared. Szilard's advance guard deployed here during the last hour. Haskell herself came this way less than ten minutes ago. The remainder of the s.p.a.ceCom marines in this sector fan out on either side, letting their new mistress pa.s.s through, along with her entourage- -she figures she'd better revel in her moment of power, because she's about to go up against the ultimate foe. Why Sinclair didn't confront her directly back in the Room, she doesn't know. Perhaps he figured Control would be enough to stop her. Perhaps he doesn't need her after all. She rounds a corner to see the s.h.i.+mmering transluscence of the membrane blocking the way ahead.

"Here's how we're going to do this," she says-starts to give commands. And they're doing exactly what she tells them-bunching together, getting in close. She can tell that goes against all their instincts-that the last thing any of them want is to be so near that their armor's touching. But she needs to envelop them all with her mind's s.h.i.+eld. She's giving last orders to the s.p.a.ceCom marines, telling them to defend to the end. She knows that ultimately the Eurasians will be able to reach this point anyway. But unless she screws up, they won't be going any farther. And if she's right about what's about to happen, none of it will matter anyway. She synchronizes everyone on the zone that's all her own and gives the orders to get moving into that membrane- And they do. Fast. It's all Linehan can do to keep up-all he can do to stay sane as apparitions loom before him and spirits gibber at him-hollow-eyed ghosts staring straight through the barrier that Haskell's slung up around him, pressing against his head. It's like those things are pounding against his skull, trying to break in-like all of reality's boiling inside his head. When it boils away maybe he'll see straight through to what's been hidden from him all this time. He grits his teeth, follows this woman-who's-no-woman as she keeps on driving forward- What the f.u.c.k are we dealing with, Carson?"

Lynx's voice sounds as on edge as the Operative has ever heard-the voice of a man grasping for something to hold on to and falling way too short. The Operative is almost tempted to just let Lynx stew. But he can't be sure he won't be going there himself any moment now. So he lets himself just describe.

"Sinclair's got a psychic moat," he says. "Something that no normal mind could pa.s.s."

"Not too many abnormal ones either," says Lynx.

Nor is the mind enough. Reflexes are at a premium as well. Maschler, Riley, Linehan, Lynx, the Operative, Velasquez, and the other two members of her triad-they're all following the instructions that Haskell's flas.h.i.+ng to them, following her as she forges forward- It's a little easier because she's been this way before. The only way to get in or out of the Room without using a teleporter-but the labyrinth's geometry is unreliable. It s.h.i.+fts every time one pa.s.ses through it, is never the same thing twice. She figures that's fitting-she gets a glimpse of Sinclair as a minotaur lurking in the catacombs of eternity, of herself as Theseus threading the final maze toward him. She senses more emanations foaming in from the Room, senses something new- And when we get there?" asks Sarmax.

"We do whatever she says," says Velasquez.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"What makes you think I'm not telling you something?"

Long experience. He's considering all the angles as the maelstrom of the labyrinth whirls around them; he's realizing that she's playing at something, and he's not sure he can stand to know-not sure that Haskell doesn't know already- "Control yourself," hisses Velasquez, "or she will."

"Our minds-"

"Your mind is under my protection. And mine is the only one that this superb.i.t.c.h can't penetrate." mind is under my protection. And mine is the only one that this superb.i.t.c.h can't penetrate."

"This superb.i.t.c.h superb.i.t.c.h is the only thing that can stop Matthew Sinclair-" is the only thing that can stop Matthew Sinclair-"

"She's playing right into his hands," snarls Velasquez.

Nor is she under any illusions on that that score. There's no contingency she can adopt that might not be something that Sinclair's counting upon. Every stratagem she deploys might merely be the inverse of one of his. Every action she takes might be one more step in his master plan. His progeny have operated with all too many plans-all too many scenarios ... and maybe they're all just part of the design of the one who set it all in motion. But now she's on the point of returning to the Room with the most elite armed escort ever seen. The fact that she doesn't know whom among that escort she can trust is something she intends to turn to her advantage. She's going to stay one step ahead of Sinclair yet. She powers through the other side of the membrane-glances back as they come on through behind her, almost laughs at the looks on their faces. score. There's no contingency she can adopt that might not be something that Sinclair's counting upon. Every stratagem she deploys might merely be the inverse of one of his. Every action she takes might be one more step in his master plan. His progeny have operated with all too many plans-all too many scenarios ... and maybe they're all just part of the design of the one who set it all in motion. But now she's on the point of returning to the Room with the most elite armed escort ever seen. The fact that she doesn't know whom among that escort she can trust is something she intends to turn to her advantage. She's going to stay one step ahead of Sinclair yet. She powers through the other side of the membrane-glances back as they come on through behind her, almost laughs at the looks on their faces.

PART V.