Too Like the Lightning (30 page)

Thisbe claims that Cato smiled, but Eureka, blind within the computer's embrace, cannot corroborate. “¿When was Mycroft here?” he asked.

“They just left. They say they'll be around to help as much as possible until the threat is past.”

“¿Then those two crazy sensayers are coming back?”

Thisbe slurped her aromatic tea. “The two aren't connected. Mycroft says Dominic Seneschal is a threat but Carlyle Foster is an ally.”

“¿And you believe that?”

“Yes. Carlyle's a good one. Lesley and I were so impressed we invited Carlyle to come back today to meet with whichever of the twins we can catch, or you. You must have a session, Cato, it would do you good.”

Cato must be careful latching his boots, to keep the cuffs of his hospital scrubs from catching in their seal. “No thanks.”

Eureka recalls being startled as their brother stomped the floor in his rage. “¿How can all of you be over Esmerald already? ¡Eighteen years means something to me!”

No one can recall what the women said here; perhaps nothing.

“Anyway, I don't think we should let Mycroft Canner be our judge of sensayers.”

Thisbe came to my defense. “¿You want to know what Mycroft really said? They said that, if one believed in Providence, one might believe Carlyle was sent here to help prepare us for the coming dangers.”

Cato answered as you would have, reader. “Mycroft shouldn't talk that way. Neither should you.”

Eureka resorts to shorthand when spooked by questions their computer cannot answer.

“A great deal. Mycroft won't admit it, but I think they've met this Dominic Seneschal before. They're the worst kind of secret-sniffer, dangerous as they come, trust me. But Mycroft also doesn't think Dominic's behind this. Dominic's a side effect, not the author. There's no way to tell yet who's targeting us, but whoever it is has significant resources and malevolent intent.”

“¿Malevolent intent? That's a good phrase to hear first thing in the morning.” See Sniper stumbling down the stairs now, eyes vacant as a zombie's. This time of day he would probably have mustered the baggy shirt and moplike straw brown wig he wore at home to keep visitors and low-ranked guards from recognizing him, but he was not yet awake enough to achieve pants. “Morning, Thisbe. Morning, Eureka. Morning, murderer. ¿Did you enjoy the party last night?”

Cato would not look at him. “I'm not speaking to you.”

“It'll be good publicity for the museum, throngs of kids.”

Wordless, Cato hurried to the door, the winds of his lab coat brushing Sniper's thighs with chill.

“Ockham approved, you know.” Would Sniper here have sounded cold or smug? “It was necessary. We can't afford to have the President not trust us.”

“¡Never do anything like that again!”

“¿Or what? ¿What will you do, huh?”

What could Cato do? He hurled the door aside, eager to slam it behind him, but froze on the threshold, confronted with a figure there, about to knock. “Weichun?”

I have not met the security captain who smiled from the doorstep, but she is Cato and Eureka's cousin, so imagine Cato, but in a Humanist uniform, black to make the bright Olympic rings of its embroidered patches brighter. “Good morning, Cato. Everyone. We've had call for a security drill.”

“Now?” Cato wriggled with the urge to bolt. “We just had one.”

“I think the higher-ups want to triple check, after the break-in.”

“Can I just—”

“Good call,” Sniper cut in. “We're right at shift change, so I'm not even on duty yet. A disruptive moment is the best time for a test.” Likely the living doll apologized with a roguish smile for his lack of pants, and likely the captain did not mind one jot. “07:17 local 11:17 UT, I'll clock in now. Eureka, message Ockham and Lesley upstairs, let them know it's a drill.”

Thisbe dragged herself up off the couch. “I'll head downstairs.”

“Good. I'll start the clock at 07:18 on my mark … Cato, you were here when the drill was called so here you stay.”

“Fine!” Cato spun and stomped back to his lab in a huff that made even this obedience rebellion. “Test my security, my security is perfect…”

Sniper smiled at Cato's murmur, as at the sweet babbling of a toddler. “On my mark, then … Mark!”

I have never seen the house spring into action, lights and sirens, bolting doors, the robots pouring forth from walls and corners like the wrathful march of ants. I have once seen from a distance the sudden blackening of the sky as the cars race in, guards upon guards, some in the city's police uniforms of white and gray-blue, some in Humanist colors, a second wave in civvies, rushed in from beds and sofas in the surrounding tiers of bash'houses whose residents are proud to add their names to the roster of
Mukta
's defenders. Ockham's prophecies were sound: fifty guards in two minutes and three hundred in five, who joined the automated system and the few guards always on duty in the computers' humming depths. Soon every room in the bash'house had a guard, and coordinated squads took up their places, each on its appointed tier of the computers which climbed down and down beneath the city's depths, like the vast, true body of the iceberg, a glimpse of which will make the horror-stricken sailor dream of monsters. Troops filled the trench outside too, chatting, cheerful in their proud routine, but Thisbe had showed us where their perimeter falls, so we dug Bridger's dwelling far beyond.

<¡We're going to break our record!> Cato boasted to the house over their tracker link.

Sniper:

Cato:

Thisbe:

Sniper:
<¿Again?>

Eureka:
<¡smitten! ¡i knew it!>

Thisbe:

Eureka:

Thisbe:

Ockham:

Sniper:
<¿What? ¿Is there a problem?>

Ockham:

Thisbe:
<¿Making a fuss?>

Ockham:

Thisbe:
<¿The Canner Device?>

Ockham:

Eureka:
<¿just now?>

Ockham:

Cato:
<¿Eleven? ¿Just before the drill?>

Thisbe:

Sniper:
<¿Who ordered this drill?>

Cato:

Ockham:

Cato:

Ockham:

Sniper:

Lesley:

Ockham:

Thisbe:

Sniper:

Eureka:

Sniper:

Ockham:

Cato:

Ockham:

Cato:

Ockham:
<¿Are they a threat to the system where they are?>

Cato:

Sniper:
<¿Who are they?>

Cato:
<>

Thisbe:

Cato:

Thisbe:

Cato:

Lesley:

Cato:

Eureka:

Ockham:
<¿Reinforcements?>

Sniper:
<¿Whose?>

Eureka:

Thisbe:
<¿Where are these stray twelve, Cato? Give me a location, I'll flush them out.>

Ockham:

Cato:
< Sānlíng.>

Eureka:
<¿what?>

Cato:
He means Chinese Mitsubishi, reader. Cato and Eureka use their Chinese parents' name for Mitsubishi. Of course, in one sense, Sānlíng is the Hive's real name
,
since a majority—slim but constant—of its Members are Chinese, but the remainder of the Earth finds ‘Mitsubishi' less intimidating to pronounce than pitch-strict Chinese vowels.

Eureka:

Cato:

Lesley:
<¿What about our Humanist Special Guard? ¿Are they moving?>

Cato:

Ockham:

Sniper:
<¿Should I call Director Andō? ¿Or the President?>

Eureka:

Cato:
<¿Sānlíng reinforcements?>

Eureka:

Lesley:
<¿Herrera?>

Sniper:

Ockham:

Sniper:

Lesley:

Cato:
<¿Should someone call Director Huang?>

Thisbe:

Cato:

Eureka:

Lesley:

Cato:
<¿Thisbe? ¿What are you doing? ¿Why are you going toward B-block? Ockham hasn't ordered you to move.>

Ockham:

Cato:

Thisbe:

Eureka:
<¿why are we trusting this alliance person more than our sanling special guard?>

Ockham:

Cato:
<¡I know my job, Ockham!>

Ockham:

Thisbe:
<¿Why my room? It's not a good time with Carlyle here. I don't see why we can't just handle this ourselves.>

Ockham:

Thisbe:

Ockham:
<¿How are things elsewhere? ¿Drill going smoothly?>

Cato:

Ockham:
<¿But do all the forces think everything's normal?>

Cato:

Sniper:

Eureka: