The Machinery Of Light Part 20

"Of course I've been using you."

"That's not what I meant."

"C'mon, Linehan. You're the mech-"

"Who used to work for s.p.a.ceCom."

"Who got rigged with a compulsion by them," says Lynx.

"Which you reverse-engineered."

"Which is why I showed myself to you back on the Montana Montana. Right. But-"

"But I'm also your back door into the s.p.a.ceCom mainframes," says Linehan.

Lynx grins. "One among many."

The megaship's continuing to accelerate, but now its route has straightened out. Soldiers are pulling themselves off the wall, taking up positions again around the elevator-bank. Spencer steadies himself while Jarvin moves back toward the elevator-banks.

"We can't let you up there," says the Chinese sergeant.

"We already had this conversation," says Jarvin. "Out of my-"

"Sir," says the Russian sergeant, "we can't let you up there," "we can't let you up there," Guns are out now. Guns are out now.

"I already gave you my clearance."

"Sir, they just revoked it."

So now I'm your slave," says Haskell.

"You're alive. You're not in pain. Count your blessings."

Haskell studies Montrose from several angles. The president looks as if she's been under a lot of stress. Though now she seems to be perking up a little.

"You're the most powerful instrument in creation."

"Instrument," repeats Haskell. repeats Haskell.

"And someone has to wield you."

"I had myself in mind."

Montrose throws her head back and laughs-loud enough to make the visors of her nearest bodyguards turn. "Like you have the maturity for that." that."

"f.u.c.k you-"

"You see? 'f.u.c.k this' and 'f.u.c.k that'-you keep on ranting and all the while all you are is a mind so close to the edge of sanity that you're only fit to be the tool of the ones who really run the show. Jesus, Claire. I expected better from you."

"Would you rather I wasn't strapped to this table taking orders from you?"

"I'd rather you were a little nicer about it. Seeing as how we're going to have to get used to each other."

"And how we've got work to do," says Control.

She feels that leash brush up against her throat.

The Operative's climbing back into the main cargo bay. Maschler and Riley are both following him this time. Both men have their guns out now. The Operative's head hurts too much for him to even think about trying anything. He winces.

"Not to worry," says Riley.

"We'll dose you with some 'dorphs before we set you loose," says Maschler-snorts with laughter. But the Operative says nothing-just grabs a ladder, starts climbing back into the c.o.c.kpit. He knows exactly what he's going to see in its windows. He hears the proximity alert starting up.

Bang on schedule," says Lynx.

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?" Linehan's thinking Lynx's smile is starting to look ever more demented. But the razor just laughs.

"You didn't think we were going to do this alone, did you?"

"The way you keep talking, I don't know what to think."

"All good a.s.sa.s.sinations are done from all sides."

"Whatever you say, Lynx."

"JFK, for example. They-"

"Who?"

"Kennedy."

"You mean the s.p.a.ceport?"

"I mean the president."

"Never heard of him."

"That's because you've got no education. Gra.s.sy knoll, book depository, Secret Service, open season: they got the b.a.s.t.a.r.d from every direction."

"Good for them."

"For us, you mean. We're going to do the same to Szilard."

"With me as expendable?"

"We're all all expendable, Linehan. But if we manage to pull this off, we might yet get out of here in one piece." expendable, Linehan. But if we manage to pull this off, we might yet get out of here in one piece."

"After which we go where?"

"First things first."

Fine," says Jarvin-turns, fires suit-jets to steady himself as he exits the foyer. The other two men follow him.

"So what the h.e.l.l do we do now?" asks Spencer.

"Figure out another way in," says Jarvin.

"How the f.u.c.k can they deny codes from the Praesidium?"

"Because someone in the c.o.c.kpit told them to."

"G.o.d only knows who's in charge there now," says Sarmax.

"Could be the Rain themselves," says Jarvin.

"Was wondering that myself," says Spencer. "Or they could just be taking no chances."

"Whoever it is," says Sarmax, "they certainly don't want any compet.i.tion."

Jarvin laughs. "Now that we're about to hit L5, who would?"

As I antic.i.p.ated," says Control.

Haskell can hardly fault that machine for sounding so conceited. Especially now that she's his humble servant-she's been slotted in, given access to the full range of his battle-management calculations. Apparently he's been predicting this move for some hours now-had antic.i.p.ated that the megaships' drive on the Moon was a feint, that their real target was L5. There's decidedly less hardware there than at the Moon, meaning that the megaships have a far better chance of taking the libration point by themselves than they would have of destroying all of the American lunar forces- "If they take L5, the Moon will be next," says Montrose.

"Of course," says Control, "but they'll need to bring up the rest of their fleet from the Earth orbits. That'll give us some breathing room."

But Haskell is barely listening. She's too busy getting cranked up to new heights. She doesn't want to go there, but she's being rushed toward them by Control's implacable grip. She feels herself opening out toward the universe. Other minds glimmer here and there: Carson in the shuttle that's almost docked; another mind deeper within Szilard's flagship. Still other minds seem to be present at L5, but they're more opaque-as though they're being shielded. She can guess by what. Even if she can't see see it anymore, she can still feel that monstrous presence lurking out there, practically screaming at her intuition. The heart of L5: and she wonders how Matthew Sinclair plans to deal with millions of tons of Eurasian steel-wonders, too, who's really in control of that steel now. She feels herself surging ever higher. The parameters for the run on Szilard click in around her, incandescent matrices flaring out toward infinity. She takes the whole thing in-draws back from what's being asked of her ... it anymore, she can still feel that monstrous presence lurking out there, practically screaming at her intuition. The heart of L5: and she wonders how Matthew Sinclair plans to deal with millions of tons of Eurasian steel-wonders, too, who's really in control of that steel now. She feels herself surging ever higher. The parameters for the run on Szilard click in around her, incandescent matrices flaring out toward infinity. She takes the whole thing in-draws back from what's being asked of her ...

"Begin," says Montrose.

Not bad," says the Operative.

"That's all you can say?" asks Maschler.

"Nothing rattles our Carson," says Riley.

The Operative shrugs. He's in this way too deep to waste time gawking at the sight in the windows, impressive though it may be: the Redeemer Redeemer spans almost half a klick, gunnery flaring all along its length. Beyond them the Operative can see a swathe of ships, a blaze of fire-and yet all of it a mere fraction of the fleet that lies beyond. spans almost half a klick, gunnery flaring all along its length. Beyond them the Operative can see a swathe of ships, a blaze of fire-and yet all of it a mere fraction of the fleet that lies beyond.

"The ramparts of L2," says Maschler.

"For now," says the Operative-and takes in the aft-bay hangar toward which the shuttle's descending. Ma.s.sive doors start to swing open. Light gleams from within.

"Good luck," says Maschler.

"f.u.c.k you very much," says the Operative.

You'd better give me data," says Linehan.

"What kind?" asks Lynx.

"I was thinking the blueprint of this ship."

Lynx looks at him. Linehan does what he can to meet the man's stare. Which is tough because Lynx's eyes keep shimmering. The walls of this tiny room keep getting closer to one another. Linehan's guessing that has a lot more to do with whatever's going on in his own head than with anything that pa.s.ses for objective reality. One more reason why he's angling to get a better view ...

"Why the f.u.c.k would I want to give you that?" asks Lynx.

"We're about to move in on Szilard, right?"

"f.u.c.k, you're quick."

"And you're f.u.c.king not not," says Linehan. "Say we get separated? What then?"

"If we get separated, we're f.u.c.ked anyway-"

"You mean I'm I'm f.u.c.ked." f.u.c.ked."

"So?"

"So why make it easy for them? C'mon, man, you know I'm a one-man wrecking ball. And if the mission's going south, I gotta have as much data as possible so I can keep doing as much damage as possible. What's the downside to that?" that?"

Lynx says nothing. Linehan warms to the point.

"At the very least, I'd be creating that much more havoc for you to pull some s.h.i.t. Why let them trap me in a dead-end-"

"Fine," says Lynx, "you win."

"Cool," says Linehan-data starts pouring into his skull. He watches grids of elevators and pa.s.sages and crawls.p.a.ces coalesce around him, watches as they keep on stacking in upon one another-along with his own position, halfway between the outer and inner perimeters that have been set up around the heart of Szilard's defenses in the core of the Redeemer Redeemer. Linehan exhales slowly.

"So where exactly is the big cheese himself?" he asks.

"Patience," says Lynx.

Three men in one of two Eurasian megaships hurtling toward the libration point that has been an American possession for more than fifty years. They're moving through the ship's shafts, away from the elevators that lead to the c.o.c.kpit, looking for some kind of backup plan, feeling themselves subjected to intense scrutiny. Partially because the only people moving during transit are those who have to. But also ...

"I'm surprised the c.o.c.kpit hasn't issued a warrant for our arrest," says Spencer.

"Actually," says Jarvin, "it just did."

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

"What did it say?" asks Spencer.

"That we were American spies."

"Yikes. You suppressed it?"

"On the zone, yeah. But I can't do so for much longer. They'll figure out what's happening and launch a manhunt."