The Machinery Of Light Part 30

"What happened to the old one?"

"Nothing good."

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

"And you might have lost a thing or two along the way."

"What the h.e.l.l do you mean?"

"No such thing as quantum cloning," says Spencer. "Something always gets lost in the shuffle."

"You're saying we should check our memories?" says Sarmax. "Like they weren't suspect enough-"

"He's saying don't be surprised if you start bleeding out," says Jarvin. "We're just going to have to see how this plays out, huh."

Spencer nods. "Terra incognita for sure."

"Teleportation's real," real," mutters Sarmax. mutters Sarmax.

"Real question is who else knows it," says Jarvin.

She's been thinking in that direction for a while now. After all, Sinclair's been f.u.c.king with the s.p.a.ce-time continuum. Once you've sent messages back from the future, bypa.s.sing s.p.a.ce isn't so far beyond the pale. But now she's face to face with it. Because everyone in this chamber's whirling. Standing on one end of the catwalk is a figure wearing what looks to be a seriously sophisticated suit of powered-armor.

"Who the h.e.l.l are you?" asks Szilard.

"The person who's going to kick your a.s.s," says the figure-right before it starts firing.

The Operative and Lynx move through into what looks to be a standard office complex, though all the offices on either side are empty. Their sensors are cranked-they're looking for anything with a heat source.

"You really think he's here?" asks Lynx.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d never goes anywhere without that b.i.t.c.h of his."

They start getting ready to move out. Spencer does a quick scan on the zone around him. Sarmax keeps going on about teleportation.

"I'm still trying to get my head around this," says Sarmax. "The amount of computational power needed-the amount of energy energy-you're talking about something that's-"

"Off the charts," says Spencer. "But just so we're all on the same page, spare us all and stop playing stupid."

"Who says I'm playing stupid?"

"You know all about these f.u.c.king devices."

"I don't know if I'd go that far."

"Heard about them, then." about them, then."

"Okay," says Sarmax, "so I've heard about them-"

"In your G.o.dd.a.m.n bas.e.m.e.nt," says Jarvin.

Flame streaks across the room. Szilard's two bodyguards leap in front of him, taking the shots. One of them takes a few too many. His suit starts burning. Szilard's grabbing at Haskell-but she's leapt from the catwalk, finds herself tumbling down in low-gravity toward the rail beneath. The figure advances on Szilard's remaining bodyguard, who closes rapidly, firing all his weapons. Szilard comes to a quick decision-he ignites his suit-jets and blasts upward toward the elevator shaft.

They've left the offices behind and have come to what looks more like a lab-complex. Equipment's everywhere, gleaming like it's seen recent use. Standing in one corner is a man who looks at them like he expected this all along.

So I had one in my cellars," says Sarmax. "So what?

Didn't mean I ever switched the f.u.c.king thing on.

Problem with having a teleporter is-"

"Not enough to have just one one," says Jarvin.

"Got to know the location of the others," mutters Spencer.

"If you don't, having only one is worse than useless," says Sarmax. "Never know when something just f.u.c.king manifests- manifests-"

"That's what the Praesidium intended to do if rogue elements got ahold of these megaships," says Jarvin. "They could just beam in commandos and-"

"So could the Rain," says Spencer.

Jarvin laughs. "The Coalition's has been played. If they have these devices, it's only because the Rain wanted it that way."

Spencer looks at Sarmax. "Who installed yours?"

"That'd be Sinclair," says Sarmax.

"Let's trash this place," says Jarvin.

Szilard shoots into the shaft and disappears from sight. His second bodyguard fights on for about two more seconds before getting torn apart. The newcomer vaults over the catwalk, fires its jets, speeds down toward Haskell. She's still falling, picking up speed. The figure catches up to her just before she hits the bottom.

You're well off the beaten path," says the man.

He looks pretty old. His beard's gone almost white.

His face is wizened, but his eyes are bright. He smiles like he's trying to cover up how scared he is.

"Where the f.u.c.k is it?" demands Lynx.

Destroying the teleportation chamber isn't a no-brainer. Once it's done, they can no longer get out. But the only place they can escape to is the ship they came from. And the risks of anyone else catching up with them using the same technology is just too great. A few silenced rounds of ammo and some good old-fashioned battering with their fists, and the room may as well have just been bombed.

"Nothing like burning bridges," says Jarvin.

"Let's go," says Spencer.

The ship's zone clicks in around him.

Haskell feels herself seized by gloved fists; she watches walls rush by as the suited figure fires its jets, hauls her back up, and dumps her unceremoniously onto the catwalk. The shattered bodies of Szilard's bodyguards lie nearby. The president's nowhere to be seen.

"He'll be back any moment," says the interloper.

Where's what?" asks the old man.

"Where the f.u.c.k is the telepor-"

"Let me handle this," the Operative says to Lynx on the one-on-one. He opens up the channel again: "You're Dr. Arthur Sorenson."

"Is that a question?" says the man.

"More like confirmation," says Lynx. "We've already got your resume."

Sorenson looks at him a little strangely. "Which resume?"

"That'd be the real one."

They leave the wrecked equipment behind, head out through pa.s.sages that look familiar. An identical set of doors as on the Hammer of the Skies Hammer of the Skies, only this time they're going the other way. Spencer feels like he's retracing his footsteps. It's strange to think he isn't. In short order they reach the elevator shaft-between floors, same as before. An elevator car's just arriving for them.

Who the f.u.c.k are you?" says Haskell.

"A secret admirer."

"With access to the teleport machines-"

"Narrows it down, doesn't it?"

"G.o.ddammit, who-"

"First things first."

It all happened so long ago," says Sorenson.

"May as well have been yesterday," says Lynx.

"At least tell me which ones you are."

"Originals," says the Operative.

Sorenson's eyes narrow. "Where's the third?"

"We're asking the questions," says Lynx.

"So how about you give us a guided tour," says the Operative.

The elevator hurtles toward the rear of the ship.

"Which is where Sinclair is," says Sarmax.

"You got it," says Jarvin.

"And Indigo's a prisoner too?"

"They may not be prisoners," says Spencer.

The figure leans forward, unlocks the restraints on Haskell's suit in one fluid motion, and beams her data. Haskell realizes they're coordinates-that the figure is giving her directions. Only- "These aren't for the portal," she says.

"Because it doesn't lead to where you need to go."

"Szilard thought it led to the-"

"He was wrong. Use the map I just gave you; Sarmax's own back door. Eighty klicks south to Shackleton. To the South Pole." A pause. "You know about the South Pole?"

"I've known all along."

"Then you know what lies beyond it."

"South of every south," says Haskell.

They look at each other.

"And you?" she adds.

"I'm going back the way I came. To run some more errands. Which starts with blowing this equipment behind me." The figure tosses plastique, starts to turn- "Are you Matthew Sinclair?" asks Haskell.

The figure says nothing, just starts up the machinery, surging jets and heading in toward it. Haskell's eyes narrow.

"Morat?"

A laugh: "Not even vaguely."

You want me to show you around?" asks Sorenson.

"Don't make me ask twice," says the Operative.

"No need. But there's no teleportation device here." Lynx laughs. "Do you want to die, old man?"

"I dream of it every day," says Sorenson.

They may be running a takeover sequence," says Jarvin "They may be running this place already," says Spencer.

"Only one way to find out," says Sarmax.

The elevator comes to a halt. The doors open.

Haskell watches a door slide open in the pillar, watches the figure step toward it-and turn back toward her one more time. She hears the voice echo in her helmet.

"Go," it says. it says.

She fires her suit-jets.