The Machinery of Light (67 page)

A
t least I saw you again,” says Sarmax.

“We’re not dead yet,” says Velasquez.

The walls of the hangar start to tear away.

T
he sequences she’s running keep on building, as does the psychic backwash. Factors keep on dwindling toward zero, canceling out all infinities. Untold reverberations wash through her, but she anticipates each one, slides her mind at the precise angle to avoid insanity—

W
e are so fucked,” mutters Linehan.

“At least go out in style,” snaps Lynx. He’s trying to hack the motor directly. What’s left of the combined mass of the
Memphis
and the
Harrison
is falling away. The farside of the Moon’s coming in toward them.

M
aschler joins the Operative on the inner bridge.

The outer bridge personnel are panicking. Riley pulls himself into the inner bridge, slams the door behind him.

“Now what?” he yells.

“Hold the fuck on,” says the Operative.

I
t’s all they can do. They’re being shaken ever harder as the
Righteous Fire-Dragon
barrels its way through the far flank of the L2 fleet, ships scattering on both sides like schools of fish before a shark. Moon’s rushing in toward them.

T
he dropship detaches in one fluid motion, firing motors and falling away from the disintegrating hangar and out of the megaship. Hull starts to streak past them.

T
he ceiling is disintegrating. Along with the floor.

They’re back against the bulwark of the motor itself now, holding on with those magnetic clamps. And suddenly that engine is firing again. Linehan feels his whole life flash before him. Lynx is laughing like crazy as he feeds commands into the motors and they rocket past what’s left of the
Harrison
, catapulting straight in toward the Moon.

T
he outer bridge personnel are hurling themselves against the door to the inner bridge, trying to somehow find a way in. It’s not like they have a plan. They’re just intent on killing the ones who have killed them. But the three men inside pay no attention—instead, they’re watching the
Harrison
’s wayward antimatter drive streak past them, two suited figures clinging to it.

“What a way to go,” says Riley.

“We’re going the same way,” says the Operative as he finishes the sequence he’s been keying. Explosions suddenly detonate throughout the outer bridge.

W
e’ve lost the engines,” says Spencer.

Jarvin nods. He brings up the trajectory and looks at the dotted line that shows the extrapolation—an arc continuing around the lunar surface, impacting on the nearside at—

“Hmmm,” he says.

T
hey’re getting the hell out of the way of the nukes. The megaship falls away in the distance. The ships of the L2 fleet pour by overhead. The dropship’s plunging toward the lunar surface.

A
nd suddenly they’re upon her. The guardians of the Room. Not just silicon either. She can feel the texture of their minds; they’re almost like her, living flesh linked to silicon to create something greater. She pictures living brains trapped within walls, pictures them linked together, swarming in upon her head—

T
wo men like insects on the edge of eternity, clinging to machinery that’s roaring full tilt toward the ground. The L2 fleet blasts above them, formation after formation surging around toward the nearside to face the main weight of the Eurasian fleet. But the American deployment is less than flawless—gaps are everywhere in the ranks, testament to the damage the megaships wrought.