The Burning Skies (60 page)

“Because you’ve gotten what you came for,” she says.

“How to hack the Throne himself to forestall the transfer of the executive node. And now you’re going to take him out and take it for yourself.”

“Actually I had in mind giving it to someone.”

“Who’s that?”

“You.”

She stares at him. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because I’m still in love with you.”

She laughs. “That is
so
much bullshit.”

“You say that without even hesitating.”

“You don’t even know the meaning of the fucking
word
—”

“I tried to warn you, Claire.” He shrugs. “Tried to tell you just how beyond the range of ordinary definition you are. Transhuman in a way that the rest of us can barely
fathom
. Think: your intuition, what does that really mean?”

“Ability to compute in advance of stimuli,” she says, almost automatically.

“And how the fuck could
that
be taking place?”

“Retrocasuality” she says. “That’s the only way.”

“Signals from the future.”

“I’ve felt them.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“God help me, Carson.”

“If you think you can reach Him, let me know.”

“Only thing I can reach out there is Lynx and Spencer. And Lynx is on the zone only—”

“And what about the Rain?”

“I think they’re inside that building beneath Eurasia.”

“And they’ve turned Spencer?”

But that’s not true. She suddenly remembers what she’s done, remembers what she’s apparently just communicated by some kind of telepathy to Spencer, telepathy that interfaces with both flesh
and
zone: she’s told him to keep that gun pointed at Sarmax and stand by for further orders. Because the Rain aren’t in that Eurasian structure after all. And the person who tampered with Spencer was—

“Me,” she says.
“I
turned Spencer. Just now.”

Carson smiles softly. “So now you see.”

She does. All those nights with Carson all that time ago, energy going through her body and across her mind and out into the universe beyond her. She suddenly gets where Carson’s been coming from all these years. He looks like a man. He’s really something more. The leader of the last Rain triad looks at her and she meets his gaze and doesn’t turn away.

• • •

A
t the heart of L2 is a ship around which all rotates. Somewhere in that ship there’s a room set apart from all else. Somewhere in that room’s the truth.

If only you can find it.

“Don’t fucking move,” says Lynx.

The man he’s got his pistols pointed at stiffens, raises his hands in the air. Which makes him even taller—he turns around, looks at Lynx.

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

“By being unstoppable.”

“Whatever you’re getting, I’ll double it.”

“This isn’t about cash,” says Lynx.

Though it looks like plenty has been blown on this room. It’s not small. The Moon floats in the window that comprises most of the ceiling. A massive map of the lunar surface covers the center of the floor. The walls are lined with console banks and the occasional door, one of which now slides open. Linehan enters the room. His armor’s been scorched in several places. Smoke’s still drifting from his guns.

“Did I miss anything?” he asks.

“We were just getting started.”

The door slides shut.

Y
ou got the short end of the stick,” says Spencer. Sarmax doesn’t turn around. Spencer’s viewing him through several crosshairs. Getting the drop on a man in powered armor isn’t easy. It helps to know your target’s suit inside out. It helps to have the Manilishi as a guardian angel upon your shoulder. Spencer monitors the voiceprint as Sarmax speaks.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean did you guys draw straws or something? Lynx hits the SpaceCom fleet and you get inside the Eurasians and meanwhile Carson gets his hands on the Throne?”

“Something like that. So—”

“So your luck’s run out, Leo. Carson’s going to rule and you’re going to die.”

“I’m not going to die,” says Sarmax. “And neither will you if you manage to grow some brains in time.”

“Thank fuck I wised up when I did.”

“You didn’t. I’ll bet it was the Manilishi telling you what was what.”

“She thinks you and Lynx and Carson got created in the same moment.”

“She’s right.”

“But that’s bullshit. You’re all different ages. You were born separately.”

“And reborn together.”

Y
ou no longer control Spencer,” says Haskell. “That’d be all you,” says Carson. “You’re doing great.”

“He’s got a hold of the trigger in that room.”

“Let him keep it.”

“And if he tries to kill Leo?”

“Let him.”

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Sarmax hid Jarvin’s file from me, Claire. It wasn’t Spencer he didn’t want to share it with, it was—”

“You.”

“Us,” says Carson. “You mean that?”

“You’re lucky,” he says. “You flew from the start. I had to adapt. Had to deal with it. I was only twenty-eight—”

“That’s how old I am now.”

“Except you’re not. Accelerated growth in the vat—”

“I know that, Carson. You don’t need to tell me. Let me out of this suit.”

“I can’t. Until it’s done.”

“The missions?”

“Everything. The battle for the world and moon goes down tonight. And then you’ll be at my side.”

“I need you to let me out of this.”

“And I will. But right now I have to let you steer yourself as you activate your powers. You have to ride the raw wave of moment, Claire. Your memory—tell me what you remember.”

“Everything.”

“Go on.”

“I know it all now. Where the implants start. Where they stop. What lies beyond them. I remember my sixth birthday for real and the counterfeit birthdays before that. Six days after being decanted and here I am thinking I’m a normal fucking kid.”

“And you weren’t even a normal member of the Rain. Just the capstone on the whole project—”

“You need to tell me exactly what you mean by that.”

“I’d rather have you show me everything instead.”

T
he head of U.S. Space Command has the look of an animal that’s been brought to bay. He’s staring down the barrel of the minigun mounted atop Linehan’s suit. But he’s maintaining his composure.

“The chickens have come home to roost,” he says slowly.

“That’s for sure,” says Lynx. His voice wafts out from behind the consoles he’s busy working on. Everything aboard
the
Montana
has gone haywire. None of Szilard’s marines can get anywhere near this room. Half of them are dead due to suit malfunctions anyway. The lights of the L2 fleet flicker in the window.

“You bastard,” says Linehan. “Do you recognize me?”

“Should I?” asks Szilard.

“I was a member of the team you sent to help the Rain take down the Elevator.”

“An interesting theory.”

“I was
there
, asshole. In the heart of HK, meeting with those fucks. They fucked me good. So did you. And now I’m going to rip your fucking heart out—”

“So what are you waiting for?”

“Me,” says Lynx. “I might need to ask you a question or two about how you’ve wired this ship’s inner enclave.”

Szilard’s expression doesn’t change. “So you can control it.”

“I already control it, as swipe. I’m talking about the rest of your fucking fleet. To deliver to the president.”

“You mean Matthew Sinclair,” says Szilard.

B
ecause that’s who we’re really talking about, isn’t it?”

“Have it your way,” says Sarmax. “But he—”

“Did it all through Carson? I know. Carson came to you and dragged you out of retirement and explained Sinclair’s whole scheme. Poured honey in your ears and—”

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Yeah?

“We almost killed each other first.”

“And I’m supposed to be surprised? When the whole MO of the Rain was to devour each other? Dysfunction junction from the word go and—”

“Fuck, Spencer, I
know
. Jesus Christ, that’s why I got the fuck out of all that.”

“I heard there was a different reason.”

“Don’t even go there.”

“The conditioning may have backfired on you. But the rest of it didn’t matter. You and Lynx and Carson were the originals: three Praetorians who’d kicked ass together for so long you could practically complete each other’s sentences. What better subject matter for the initial experiment? What better prototypes for the world’s most dangerous hit team?”

“The Manilishi’s telling you this?” asks Sarmax.

“Yeah. And I’m pretty sure the third part of the handler’s book says the same damn thing. Along with all the specifics.”

“The crown jewels, huh?”

“The exact nature of the Autumn Rain experiments, Leo.”

“The compiling of which drove the handler mad.”

“That may be its basic condition.”

“We were flatlined,” says Sarmax. All those years ago. That’s all I know. They took out our lights together: meshed us on the zone, crashed our systems, and then woke us at the same fucking time and after that we were fucking linked in some way. I don’t think it worked out quite as well as they wanted, though. I think they were thinking they were going to get some kind of group-mind effect, and it wasn’t anywhere near that precise. But our reflexes were off the charts. And we could sense when the others were near. I know that Lynx and Carson are heading toward each other behind the Moon right now. I know they know I’m back here. I know that—”