The Machinery of Light (43 page)

“Where the fuck 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 résumé.”

Sorenson looks at him a little strangely. “Which résumé?”

“That’d be the real one.”

T
hey leave the wrecked equipment behind, head out through passages that look familiar. An identical set of doors as on the
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.

W
ho the fuck are you?” says Haskell.

“A secret admirer.”

“With access to the teleport machines—”

“Narrows it down, doesn’t it?”

“Goddammit, who—”

“First things first.”

I
t 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.

T
he 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.

T
he 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.”

Y
ou 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.

T
hey 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.

H
askell 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.

She fires her suit-jets.

T
hey follow Sorenson back into the rest of his labs. The Operative’s keeping him in his crosshairs the whole way. He’s got no idea what the guy might try. All he knows is that this is a man who’s been on the run for a long time—who knows all the tricks. That’s how he was able to seclude himself in the backwaters of SpaceCom—just another weapons laboratory among so many, this one producing something on paper and somehow never quite being called upon to produce it for real. None of which mattered when the funding kept on arriving and all inquiries got led down false trails. But every reckoning comes eventually.

T
hey move through more corridors. Spencer’s checking out zone-grids.
Righteous Fire-Dragon
turns out to be a very different proposition from its sister ship. It’s a lot more complex. The cockpit’s even better defended than on
Hammer of the Skies
. The ship’s executive node is far more formidable. But
Spencer’s mind is sifting through it all the same. His new zone techniques put the old ones to shame. He and Jarvin triangulate on the area of the ship that’s been turned into a prison. They’re plotting their route in. But that route includes one preliminary stop—one they’ve almost reached. They prime their weapons.