“So check it again,” says the Operative. There’s something in his tone that makes the pilot do just that— accessing screens within his head—looking bemused—
“I don’t understand,” he says.
“Last-minute update,” says Lynx.
“You guys intel or something?”
“Something,” says the Operative.
“And we haven’t got all day,” says Linehan, getting out of his seat. He’s twice the size of the pilot. The pilot re-enters the cockpit, the door to that chamber starts to slide shut—
“You can leave that open,” says Lynx.
The door slides back open. The pilot works the controls. Exterior hatches shut; engines rumble into life as the shuttle pushes back once more. The Operative hears the one-on-one start up within his head.
“You’d better be right about this,” says Lynx.
“Shut the hell up,” says the Operative.
We’re between floors,” says Sarmax, echoing Jarvin.
“Let’s go,” says Spencer.
They move through a series of passages that aren’t on any of the ship’s blueprints they’d had access to previously. They see no other sign of life, no sign that anything’s been here since it got built. There’s that much dust. It reminds Spencer of all that nanotech back on the Europa Platform. He hopes he hasn’t signed on for a repeat performance. They reach a door that looks to be quite strong.
“You got the key?” asks Jarvin.
“I’d better,” says Spencer.
Turns out he does. They go through more, each one thicker than the last. Each time he finds he’s got the right access codes. Turns out the cockpit wasn’t the most secure area on the ship, because everyone knew where it was. But this—
“Everyone stand back,” says Spencer.
The last door slides open.
The gazebo floor-turned-elevator trundles downward. Shaft walls slide by. Szilard’s two bodyguards eye Haskell. Haskell eyes Szilard.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“Don’t you know?”
“Pretend I don’t.”
“Can’t you see the future?”
“It’s a very clouded view.”
“That’s about to change.”
They descend through the ceiling of a room unlike any Haskell’s ever seen.
Way out near the edge of the L2 fleet is a medium-grade war-sat that was obsolete as of ten years ago. It’s nothing special. It sees very little traffic.
That’s the point.
“We don’t even have clearance,” says the pilot.
“You will in a second,” says the Operative. He and Lynx are doing their damndest to make sure of that. None of this was easy to find. Sometimes the best place to hide secrets is right out in the open. Sometimes all you need to do is knock …
“Got it,” says the pilot.
“Told you,” says the Operative.
A battered hangar opens to receive them.
Three men pile into a room. The door slides shut behind them. There are no other doors visible.
“Jesus Christ,” says Sarmax.
Dust is everywhere. The place looks like it’s never been used. The walls are made of a strange kind of metal. Each wall has a suit-sized alcove cut in its center. Each such alcove looks as if it’s meant to be stood in.
“Well,” says Spencer, “here we are.”
“And no one else on this ship knows about this?” Sarmax looks skeptical.
“If they do,” says Spencer, “they’re not talking.”
“They don’t,” says Jarvin. “This was the trump card of the Eurasian leadership. In case their ships slipped the leash.”
“They didn’t count on us, though.”
“Maybe they did,” says Sarmax.
“Let’s find out,” says Spencer.
Picture a square turned forty-five degrees. That’s what this room’s like—it’s set at angles. There’s no floor, just vast walls slanting down along diagonals to meet in a V-shape: a metal-lined groove that runs along the bottom of the room. There’s another such groove at the highest point of the room too—and a hole in the wall that rises up to meet that groove. The elevator-gazebo has just dropped through that hole, trundling along vertical rails down to the catwalks that crisscross here and there. A pillar is at the very center of the room, running from floor to ceiling.
“Quite a place,” says Haskell.
“Wait till we turn it on,” says Szilard.
They don’t waste time. Lynx switches the shuttle’s zone classification to
“And what about me?” asks the pilot.
Linehan shoots him through the head. “Are we ready?” he asks.
“I think we are,” says the Operative.
The shuttle door opens.
Spencer’s sending out wireless signals at point-blank range. A panel unfolds from the wall, revealing a console.
“Aha,” says Sarmax
“What order are we going to try this in?” says Jarvin.
“All at once,” says Spencer.
This is the place Sarmax hid from Carson,” says Haskell.
“He hoped to use it again someday.”
“How’d you find out about it?”
“Would you believe he told me?”
The elevator stops. They’ve gone as far down as they can go. One of the marines leads the way onto the catwalk; the other follows Szilard and Haskell as they move toward the intersection of catwalks at the center.
“Actually,” says Haskell, “I would.”
If Sarmax thought it could be used as a tool against Carson, anything’s possible. And if this place does what she suspects it’s about to—
They move out into a deserted hangar. Equipment’s everywhere but nothing looks flyable. Or even useful, for that matter. This stuff is from a bygone era.
“We’re off the beaten track,” says Maschler.
“We’re going even farther,” says Lynx. “You ready, Strom?”
