something. And the sun’s cycles are of limited aid to those who dwell upon this rock.
“Like I said,” says Lynx, “you ask too many questions.”
“And you give nowhere near enough answers.”
“What exactly do you want to know?”
“I want to know about the fucking mission, Lynx.”
And why the fuck they’ve got no armor. All they’ve got is workers’ suits. They’re sitting in the cab of a truck loaded with ore. They got the ore from a train stopped in the rock fields outside of Congreve’s suburbs. Normally such a train wouldn’t unload until it reached its destination in central Congreve. But apparently there’s some problem with the rail downtown. Meaning that now lots of trucks are going where lots of trucks usually don’t go.
“I already told you about the mission, Linehan. We’re going to deliver this ore to Congreve’s citadel.”
“Ore that we’ve rigged with something.”
“We just picked it up. I’ve been driving the whole time since. How the hell could I have rigged it?”
“Maybe it was rigged already.”
“Linehan. We were two hundredth in line. There were at least two hundred trucks behind us. The moonscape back there looks like a fucking drive-in theater. How the hell would anyone know what chunk of ore was going to get dumped in the back?”
“You’re a razor, Lynx.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning stranger things have happened.”
Lynx laughs. “Surely it would have been easier for me to just rig the truck?”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because we haven’t been ordered to blow the heart of SpaceCom power in Congreve to kingdom come.”
“So you
“What gave you the idea I didn’t?”
They’re at the city dome. They get scanned, waved through. They halt inside a massive airlock with two other trucks. The instruments show air and pressure manifesting all around them. The far door opens. They drive on through and into downtown.
“Let me put it this way” says Linehan. Possibilities swirl within his head, and he struggles to make sense of them. “What the orders
“Where you going with this?”
“This could be a setup.”
“Sure,” says Lynx.
“You used the term
“That was just a figure of speech.”
“You sure about that?”
“I guess we’ll see.”
“How much do you know about me, Lynx?”
“I know you used to be SpaceCom.”
“And?”
“And I’m guessing that’s why someone thought you’d be useful in infiltrating your old gang.”
“Someone?”
“The Throne.”
“Who seems to be intent on mixing things up,” says Linehan.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning why aren’t you with the rest of your triad?”
“You missing your boyfriend?” asks Lynx.
“You’re missing the point. Your triad was hell on wheels. You guys were the fucking elite. And now you’ve all gone in different directions. Why would he break up a winning team?”
“It wasn’t exactly a winning team, Linehan.”
“It saved the Throne.”
“Who I don’t think wants to be reminded that he had to be dragged through two days of space like a diapered baby.”
“Oh,” says Linehan. “I get it. You’re
Lynx raises an eyebrow. Says nothing.
“You’re
“Shut up,” snaps Lynx.
“Why should I?”
“Because I’m in charge here, asshole!”
“And could your hard-on about that be any more obvious?”
“Go to hell,” says Lynx.
They’re coming into the center of the city now. Multiple road levels are stacked above theirs. Buildings tower above them. The dome’s sloping up toward its height. Stars shimmer through that translucence. Linehan feels it all pressing in upon him. He shakes his head.
“Look,” he says, “all I’m saying is that we saw the Throne in action. We got a sense of how that guy thinks. His paranoia puts ours into the goddamn shade. He’s separating everybody who might be a threat to him— throwing them off balance by sending them off in new directions.”
“Get a grip, man. He’s got bigger fish to fry than fretting over us.”
“Exactly,” says Linehan. “And now we’re one less thing he needs to worry about.”
“And you really think it’s a one-way trip.”
Linehan’s brow furrows. “So you really
“Did I ever say I did?”
“About a minute ago. Yeah.”
“I may have given that impression. But I think I managed to avoid being explicit about it.”
“Why the hell are you playing these mind games with me?”
“Do I have to give you a reason?”
“Is it because that’s all anybody’s done to you?”
“Hardly” says Lynx. “Those pricks are gone. I’m free of them.”
“We’re about to try and sneak into the most heavily guarded fortress on the Moon’s far side without knowing the reason why.”
“I’m sure it’ll come to me,” says Lynx.
Once upon a time, there was a city on the edge of Asia. A city that didn’t like where the twenty-first century was headed. A city that could read the writing on the wall as China emerged from civil strife. A city that embarked upon the impossible and moved a thousand klicks to the east: Hong Kong became HK Geoplex, sprawled
