The Machinery of Light

“After all,” says Spencer, “that’s why you fucked him.”

“You’ll pay for that.”

“About time you dropped the mask.”

Claire,” says Marlowe.

He’s speaking English now. Her past smolders through her. She knows there’s only one way to settle this. Only one way to respond.

“This isn’t you,” she says.

“So why do you use the second person?”

“What I’m talking to is not Jason.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“You’re Matthew Sinclair.”

“I’m not.”

“Then you’re his tool. Even if you wear Marlowe’s flesh, you’re still—”

“You’re walking into a trap,” he replies.

Pause. “I know.”

“So if I’m Sinclair, why am I telling you that?”

“Because Sinclair’s trying to make me think you’re alive,” she says. “To fuck with my head the only way he can.”

“But you do that so well all by yourself,” says the voice.

They’re maneuvering through a wilderness of turrets and panels. Energies of every wavelength crackle past them as guns discharge at the closing Eurasian fleet. The Moon’s moving visibly closer with every moment as the American fleet keeps accelerating. But the Harrison’s going to need all the margin it can get. Whether the antimatter drive’s been taken apart by crazed colonists is anyone’s guess. And if the rest of the motors are threatened, then they’ve got even bigger problems. The two men move through onto the rear portions of the ship. The stern looms before them, the stars beyond that shimmering in the ship’s exhaust.

Our personal feelings no longer matter,” says the woman.

“And that’s why you so desperately need to talk to Sarmax?”

“This has gone out of control,” she says. “Sinclair’s on the verge of winning everything.”

“I thought your triad was loyal to him,” says Jarvin.

“No longer.”

“Bullshit.”

“He’ll consume us all.”

Jarvin laughs. “You just figured that out, huh?”

“We need to join forces.”

“Oh sure,” says Spencer.

“I’m serious.”

“You really think we can work together?”

“We’ve got to.”

“Wrong,” says Spencer, turning off the channel.

Somehow she finds the strength to switch him off.

Because there’s no way that voice can help her. If there really is a Marlowe clone inside the Room’s outer perimeter, then it belongs to Sinclair utterly. By definition. Though in truth she doubts whatever’s out there has anything to do with Marlowe in the first place. It’s just a voice that’s all too adept at mimicry. She steels herself, tells herself her time with Jason is past.

Unless she can somehow fuck with that past. She’s wondering if that might be possible. She’s thinking it’s the worst kind of temptation. The elevator streaks in toward the heart of everything.

A flash—one among many, but this one’s way too close.

One of the neighboring ships suddenly comes apart like a cheap toy as Eurasian long-range artillery strikes home, spilling unearthly shadows along the hull of the Harrison. Linehan feels even more exposed than he already is. He keeps expecting debris to start raining down around him, yet he keeps on following Lynx, who seems to know exactly where he’s going. The hull’s curve is sharpening. The engines are dead ahead.

Sarmax abruptly stirs and pulls himself out of the corner, then starts moving against the craft’s acceleration toward the cockpit door. The eyes of Jarvin and Spencer track him from the wall screens.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” asks Jarvin.

“Out,” says Sarmax.

They’re on the rear of the ship, clamped to a wall sloping down toward the inferno of the motors. Linehan feels like he’s looking at the very edge of existence—like it’s all surrounded by some bubble, and he’s finally reached it. The Moon’s no longer visible. But a hatch is—

“Blow it,” says Lynx.

Spencer stays where he is—in the zone, locking down the cockpit, keeping an eye on all the entryways. Jarvin’s dropped back out—back into his body. He moves after Sarmax, who barely glances at him.

“Don’t try to stop me,” he says.

“From doing what?” asks Jarvin.

“Like you need to ask.”

Can’t you hack it?” asks Linehan.

“Systems are fucked,” says Lynx.

“Sometimes the old-fashioned way’s best,” says Linehan. He opens up with his lasers and starts carving through the hatch.

Sarmax stops at the cockpit door, turns to face Jarvin.

“You really don’t want to fight me,” he says.

Spencer’s doing his best to hack the mech’s zone-connections. He figures Sarmax has managed to switch them off again, but it turns out they’re still on. Yet he can’t break through. Apparently there’s a new factor in the mix.

“She’s inside you,” he says slowly.

“Finally,” says Sarmax.

“You’ve gone insane,” says Jarvin.

“Fine.”

“You go out there and they’ll kill you.”

“You’re the one who’ll die if you don’t open that door.”

Spencer stares at the man. Being trapped in a confined space with an off-the-leash mech wasn’t exactly what he was planning. He can see only one way out of this.

“Let’s not be too hasty,” says Jarvin. “We can—”

“No we can’t,” says Spencer.

The cockpit door slides open.

Linehan tears aside what’s left of the hatch. They slide into the shaft that’s revealed, glad to put the exterior behind them. But as to what’s in here with them—

“Get ready to start killing,” says Lynx.