The Machinery of Light

“They’re already dead,” mutters Linehan.

The door shuts behind Sarmax. Spencer watches on the camera-feeds as the mech makes his way down the shaft toward the exterior door, stepping around the charges and mines liberally strewn along its length. Jarvin cuts back on the zone.

“Let’s take him out,” he says.

“Are you nuts?” says Spencer.

“We’re nuts if we let him out of here.”

“The man’s a world-class mech. We can’t hack him. You really want to get in the ring with him?”

Jarvin says nothing.

“Besides,” adds Spencer, “even if we nailed him, he’d still take out half the fucking defenses while he was going down and then the Rain would be right up our asses.”

“So what the hell are you suggesting we do?”

Spenser shrugs. “Write him off.”

They roar out of the shaft and through an airlock, coming into the infested areas, letting shots streak out ahead of them. The colonists look almost happy to see them. Linehan figures they have reason to be, since he and Lynx are the only targets left. They’re approaching the engines—

“Antipersonnel weapons only,” says Lynx.

“That’ll make it that much tougher.”

“You know you love it.”

The far door to the cockpit access-shaft opens. Sarmax heads through, pulling himself along the walls as acceleration hauls against him. Lights flicker here and there, but it’s mostly dark. Quiet, too. Bodies are strewn about. Looks like the crew has finished killing one another off.

Or maybe the Rain has done it for them. Sarmax really doesn’t care. All that matters is that she’s back. That she appeared in his head and told him what to do if he wanted to see her again. His latent mental abilities have finally coalesced.

Or else he’s gone nuts. Or he’s been had. Because he sees no signs of her now. His mind’s empty. So are these corridors. He keeps on making his way through them.

They come through into the engine area, spraying flechette rounds in clouds around them. The colonists who have broken through to this area are trapped. It’s over quickly. Lynx and Linehan fire shots down the corridor through which they’ve come. They’re slamming the doors shut.

“Now what?” says Linehan.

“Now get on that fucking motor,” says Lynx.

The doors are shut once more. The defenses are back up.

It’s just the two of them now. Their bodies are in opposite corners of the room, their minds creeping amidst zone fragments, flitting from sensor to sensor, tracking Sarmax as he makes his way deeper into the depths of the structure. Until—

“What the fuck?” says Spencer.

“He just vanished,” says Jarvin.

“Into the jaws of Rain.”

Total silence save for the feedback in his own helmet. He’s no longer on the zone. There’s nothing for him there. Nothing in his mind now either. No sign of Indigo. At all. A nasty suspicion’s forming in his head. He’s the one who almost killed her back in the day. If she really is alive, then maybe he won’t be staying that way for too long. Maybe that’s the way it should be. He primes his weapons, gets ready for what he’s been waiting for all along.

Linehan opens more hatches and starts running wires into the microfission chambers while Lynx establishes a link back to the bridge. The Operative’s face appears on a screen.

“What’s the situation?”

“We’re here,” says Lynx. “It’s going to take awhile.”

“What’s going on?” asks the Operative.

“The comps are fucked. We have to program the thing by hand.”

“But it’s working?”

“We’ll find out.”

“Okay,” says the Operative. “Keep me posted and—fuck!”

“What your problem?” asks Lynx.

“This,” says the Operative—beams over data—

“Fuck me,” says Lynx.

And it’s all they can do to hang on. The megaships just changed gears yet again—heavier racks of nukes start slotting through them as they move to a whole new level of speed. If this goes on for much longer, all the humans aboard will be crushed by the G-forces. They’re starting to feel pretty squashed now. Spencer and Jarvin are pressed back in their respective corners. But at least they’re braced for it.

Sarmax gets knocked sprawling. He grabs at a doorway, misses—tumbles down a corridor that’s become a shaft—he’s firing his suit-jets, but not in time—walls come rushing up to meet him—

There’s a lurch as the Harrison throttles up still further and the L2 fleet reaches its uppermost speed. Any extra margin is a function of what Lynx can achieve with the AM drive. He’s running through the circuitry now—

“No pressure,” says Linehan.

“Fuck you,” mutters Lynx.

“Take a look at this,” says the Operative on the com.

But Lynx can spare only a glance at the data that the Operative’s forwarding onto the screen. The vanguards of the Eurasian fleet are kniving in along two distinct vectors—releasing their tethers, slinging scores of troopships toward the Moon. Looks like the two megaships themselves are going to converge on a point behind it. More specifically—

“They’re coming for us,” says the Operative.

“I get that,” says Lynx. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

“No,” says the Operative, “they’re coming for us.”

We’re heading straight for them,” says Jarvin.

The AI confirms it. The override back at the motors has got them on a collision course with the U.S. fleet, not to mention the other megaship. And now the AI starts to reel off more numbers …

“Holy mother of God,” says Jarvin.

Waking up isn’t easy. Especially when it involves becoming aware of so much pain. Sarmax opens his eyes to find a metal surface pressed up against his visor. He’s pressed up against the rest of that metal, shoved against the edge of a doorway that acceleration has turned into the entrance of a rather deep pit. He’s trying to move. He can’t. His armor’s primary gyros are fucked. His secondaries aren’t reporting for duty. That’s when someone presses their helmet up against his.

Lights gleam along the walls: the elevator car’s moving along grooves cut into the side of a vast cavern. Machinery’s everywhere, crusting along the walls and ceiling like some out-of-control growth.