The Machinery of Light (34 page)

“They’re not stupid,” says Lynx.

“We’ll take them all the same,” replies the Operative.

B
ack out in vacuum: the bunker escape hatch slams shut behind Montrose and her escorts. Haskell’s got a feeling it’ll be opening again soon enough. She’s still slung over the bodyguard’s shoulder—still watching the flames of the suit-thrusters of the man as he holds formation with the rest of them. She has no idea what Montrose intends to do next. She wonders if Montrose knows either. The walls of the passage widen as they come out into a larger chamber—a subrail station. The bodyguards hustle Montrose into the first car of the train that sits in the center of the grooved floor. The bodyguard holding Haskell straps her into one of the seats. For a moment she’s face to face with Montrose.

“You really fucked this up,” says Haskell.

“It’s not over yet,” says Montrose.

The train slides out of the station.

T
he screens show L5’s inner perimeter crumbling.
Hammer of the Skies
moves in toward its quarry. The Russians in the cockpit who’ve surrendered are being summarily executed. Vacuum-pumps have been turned on to drain the blood from the zero-G. Chinese soldiers are mopping up.

“They’ll be coming down here next,” says Spencer.

“Not if we convince their bosses they already did,” replies Jarvin.

T
he garrison of the
Redeemer
is trying to defend against the incursions now cutting through it, but it’s tough going. All the more so as the attacks are along angles that the original defenders didn’t anticipate—straight out of the off-limits high-security area along its axis. Alarms are sounding throughout the ship. Reserves are scrambling into their suits, all too many of which are getting hacked.

“They’re fucking reeling,” says Lynx.

“It may not matter,” says the Operative.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” says Linehan.

“Szilard might blow this ship at any moment.”

“Why the hell would he do that if he’s on it?”

“Don’t you love it when you answer your own question?”

“This whole thing was a
trick?”

Neither Lynx nor the Operative bothers to reply. Of course the whole thing was a trick. It’s the only possibility that makes sense now. But as to what the Lizard’s game is … they’re still working on it. And right now they’ve got more tactical concerns. Marines block the way ahead—Lynx fucks their suits while the Operative springs open the triple-locked doors behind them. The three men blast on through. The Operative looks around at the room they’ve just reached.

“Made it,” he says.

“Not so fast,” says a voice.

T
he train abruptly slows, slides to a halt.

“What the hell’s going on?” demands Montrose.

“Not sure,” says a bodyguard.

“Then get out there and find out!” snarls Montrose.

But the bodyguards are already opening the doors of the train, heading out into the tunnel. Lasers and explosions start flaring. One of the bodyguards gets blasted back into the car. The SpaceCom marine who just shot him leaps in, followed by several others.

“President Montrose,” says one.

“You’re under arrest,” says another.

H
ammer of the Skies
and
Righteous Fire-Dragon
pour fire onto the L5 fortress at point-blank range. They’ve suppressed enough of the defensive fire to start deploying troops: clouds of power-suits billowing across the gigantic central station and its attendant war-sats.

“Impressive,” says Sarmax.

Neither Spencer nor Jarvin reply. They’re too busy trying to keep up with the shifting Eastern zone within this megaship. The Chinese zone continues to consolidate, taking control. But as it does, Jarvin’s mind slides in behind it, Spencer riding shotgun in a maneuver as quick as it is elegant—

“Got it,” says Jarvin.

The last of L5’s guns cease firing.

T
he room is almost empty. It contains only a single console—and a door, through which Maschler and Riley have just entered, their guns still smoking.

“Figured I’d find you guys here,” says the Operative.

“You always were quick,” says Riley.

“A little too much so,” says Maschler.

“And guess who’s holding your zone-leashes?” says Lynx.

“You’re kidding,” says Riley.

“Try us and see,” says the Operative.

Though he knows they’re figuring it out for themselves. He and Lynx snipped their link back to Montrose all too easily. Whatever shit’s hitting the fan back at the president’s HQ made that move even easier. Meaning that the two men who held his reins the whole way up just got co-opted. And they’re going to find
it very difficult to do anything that Lynx and Carson don’t want them to.

Though right now everybody’s got the same objective.

“We’ve been trying to figure out the sequence,” says Riley.

“We’re one step ahead of you,” says Lynx as the Operative starts keying commands into the console.

T
he SpaceCom soldiers keep their guns trained on Montrose and Haskell while the train reverses back along the tunnel. Montrose is offering them riches beyond their imagination if they’ll let her go. They’re not saying anything in reply. They just let her plead while they keep an eye out of the windows on either side. The train pulls back into the station. Montrose and Haskell are hustled out.

A man’s waiting for them on the platform. He’s so tall his suit’s obviously custom built. His smile’s clearly visible through his visor. He looks down as Montrose and Haskell are thrown at his feet.

“Hi there,” says Jharek Szilard.

T
he sack of L5 is in full force. There’s a lot of it to bust up. The main structure is a kilometer across. Sections of the
Lincoln
have melted in the DE bombardment like wax in an oven. The thousands of Chinese soldiers storming through what’s left are meeting with little resistance. Feeds from the suit-cams of the assault troops churn through Spencer’s head as the soldiers close on one section in particular.

The prisons.

“What the hell’s going on?” asks Sarmax.

“We’ve got control of this ship’s net,” says Jarvin.

“Sure,” says Sarmax, “but what about Sinclair?”