“By taking us to HK?”
“Taking us
“You heard her,” says Morat. “And yes, Claire: exactly. Look at that procession we’re leading. Look at all those ships arrayed out behind us. It’s all going down on camera. Hundreds of millions are watching. It’s almost as good as the Elevator. And when we get ready to land, it’s going to get even better.”
“That’ll never happen,” says Haskell. “They’ll blast us from the sky before they let you put this down in the city.”
“Spoken like a true servant, Claire. You don’t know your own masters. I do. There’s no reason for them to shoot us down—
“This doesn’t add up,” says Haskell.
“Did I ever claim it had to?”
“There’s something you’re not telling us.”
“There are many things I’m not telling you,” says Morat. “That much will never change. Truth to tell, I’m not sure I could tell the whole truth even if I wanted to. Even if I knew it. But I’ll tell you this much: unless you want to give up all hope of seeing Marlowe again, you’d better give it up and get down here right now.”
“You really expect me to believe that?”
“What you believe is beside the point.”
“I thought you said you wanted us alive.”
“I exaggerate sometimes,” Morat replies. “It’s a bad habit of mine. And here’s another: I was never any good at negotiating. So I won’t even try now. The Rain want you alive if possible. They’ll take you dead if they have to. Now are you going to come on down or am I going to scratch one mech?”
“Just try,” says Marlowe.
“Just you wait,” says Morat. “Claire. What’s it going to be?”
“Don’t do it, Claire. He’ll have us both.”
“He already does, Jason.”
“He doesn’t have to.”
“Oh,” says Morat, “but I do.”
“Fuck you,” says Haskell.
“Maybe,” says Morat. “Maybe. It might be fun. Although I have to confess that the animal ceased to turn me on some time ago. I get off in my head now, Claire. I get off on twisting yours—to the point where you’re about to violate all your training in order to save someone who might not mean a thing to you. Even though you know damn well that all you’re really doing is condemning both of you to the claws of the Rain. They’re waiting for you, Claire. So am I. So come on down and join my party.”
“
“I have to,” she says.
“You’re right,” says Morat.
“You’re dead,” she says.
“Wait long enough,” he says, “and you’ll be right. But I’m going to live long enough to see this world go into the grinders of the new one. What’s it going to be, Claire? Are you going to open that airlock? Or do I have to count this down?”
“No,” she says, “you don’t. Forgive me, Jason.”
“There’s no need,” replies Marlowe.
But Haskell’s already sending signals from her mind that have nothing to do with that airlock. They’ve got a different destination altogether. They flit past the outer plane’s hull, stop at the lower’s. They trigger circuitry. Which triggers chemistry.
The bomb that Marlowe planted on the B-130 detonates.
The voice of Leo Sarmax is sounding in the Operative’s ears. It’s almost like the first time he heard it. Back before anyone saw all this coming. Back when the world was young. It’s lost none of its intensity in those intervening years. In fact, it’s gained a new edge.
Though that may be just a function of the circumstances.
“You’ve got something I want,” says that voice.
They’re just words. But they surge like waves within the Operative’s skull. He feels himself struggling not to be swept under. He feels so gone he can’t imagine being anywhere else. He waits for all eternity.
And then he speaks.
“More than just something.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’m Carson.”
There’s a pause. Then audio’s joined by another set of signals. A face appears before the Operative’s retina. He reciprocates even as he takes it in: nose, sharply sloped cheekbones. Those eyes. That half smile.
“Carson,” says Leo Sarmax. “Been a long time.”
“Long time for sure.”
“Didn’t even know you were up here.”
“That’s because you’re slipping.”
“I doubt it,” says Sarmax. “When did you get in?”
“About twelve hours ago.”
“And what do you think?”
“Not much. Expected your security would give me more of a challenge.”
“I’m not talking about my defenses. They weren’t intended for the likes of you. I’m talking about this rock.”
“Oh,” says the Operative. “In that case, I like it.”
“You should,” replies Sarmax. “It suits you.”
“Likewise.”
“Well,” says Sarmax, “I like this place for different reasons. I’m different than you, Carson. I always was. We both always knew that.”
“We always did. That’s why you left.”
“And why I’m staying.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to do anything else.”
“Good, Carson,” says Sarmax. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. You know why? Because I’ve carved out a bit of a niche for myself up here. Used to be that the Moon could guarantee you some isolation. No longer. Now you have to work for it even here. And that’s what this place is to me. Those mountains you saw coming in—they’re mine. The valleys—mine. The horizon in between—mine too. It’s all mine. And so are you.”
The Operative doesn’t reply.
“Carson,” says Sarmax. “You really shouldn’t have come here. All you’ve done is dig your own grave.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Much as you might deny it. Much as I might deny the hand that strikes you. You’ve stuck your nose into one rabbit hole too many. Took you a long time do it. But you’ve finally managed to pull it off. And now I’m going to pull apart your skull and use whatever’s inside to reverse-engineer the lockdown you’ve put on my comps.”
“Not so,” says the Operative.
“In that case,” says Sarmax, “climb out of that suit. Walk me back to the control room. One chance, Carson.”
“Listen,” says the Operative, “you’ve got it wrong. If they wanted to rub you out, I wouldn’t be the instrument of their displeasure. Come on, man, don’t kid yourself with the hubris. Sure, you’re your own little Moon lord now, but if they really wanted you dead, face it: you wouldn’t be alive. And it wouldn’t be subtle, either. Some low-flying sat would just do a drive-by on your ass, and that’d be that. It’s not like there’d be an investigation worth the name.”
“So why
“Would you believe that I wanted to look up an old friend?”
