craft drop lower all the while. Moon’s filling the window now. It looks as if they’re maneuvering amidst a mountain range. But Sarmax’s vantage point prevents him from seeing the whole picture.
Which doesn’t mean he can’t be kept in the loop.
“Your friend Carson,” says Velasquez.
“Where’s he going?”
“Right where we thought he would.”
She’s got everything right where she wants. She’s pressing her head against the surface of the door, feeling the vibrations rumble deep within. She envisions dominoes falling, endless chains of locks turning like gears, grinding in upon hinges that slowly start to swivel. She backs up, moving out of the way as the door to the Room starts to open.
The engine punches straight through the main dome of Congreve, red flaring out as a chunk of antimatter explodes into the city.
“Wow,” says Linehan.
“They were all fucked anyway,” says Lynx.
And then some. The two men drop through what’s left of the shattered dome, firing at everything in sight.
The Operative hits the afterburners, sending the craft on a barely controlled plummet into the sinkhole that sprawls across so much of Nansen Station. He rockets in toward the bottom. There’s no way they’re going to stop in time.
“What the fuck are you doing?” yells Maschler.
The Operative says nothing. But now all three men can see that what looks to be the deepest part is actually the beginning of a tunnel—
A kilometer of disintegrating megaship crashes through Copernicus’s dome, detonating as it goes. Enough of its fuel was intact to make it interesting. Thousands of nukes are going off, enveloping the lunar capital in sheets of energy, making the whole nearside shake. Radiation pummels the suits of the two men who are still several klicks above the city. They start playing evasive action with the debris that they’re descending into.
“We’ll need some new gear,” says Spencer.
“First things first,” says Jarvin.
They swoop down toward that smoking crater.
The ship lifts away from the sinkhole, pivots, drops in toward an adjacent valley.
“What the hell’s going on?” says Sarmax.
“Carson’s gone to ground,” replies Velasquez.
“And we’re not?”
“We’re going in another way. Are you ready to get back in the fight?”
Sarmax nods. Tunnel closes in around them.
The door’s as massive as it is reinforced. As it swings open, Haskell can hear the creaking of doors behind it doing the same thing. A whole succession of gates, and she’s cracked them all. She steps behind the first one, starts moving past the procession—starts to get intimations of the space that lies beyond—
The upper levels of Congreve are totaled. The lower levels are pure chaos. The fact that Lynx has hacked the inner enclaves of the city’s defenses is only adding to the insanity. He and Linehan charge into the city’s basements, shooting in all directions, heading downward as fast as possible.
“Ain’t gonna be enough,” says Linehan.
“Shut up and keep moving,” mutters Lynx.
That’s the key ingredient of the Operative’s plan. Maschler and Riley are holding on for dear life while he pilots the escape ship down a tunnel, dropping ever farther beneath Nansen Station, on the cusp of far and nearside. He and Lynx and Sarmax came down here once in search of the Rain, only to have the Rain blow their base right in their face. He maneuvers through a maze of passages, trying to guess which ones have collapsed and which ones haven’t.
“Do you know where you’re going?” demands Riley.
“Somewhere off the maps.”
“I thought the Praetorians searched this whole place.”
“Doesn’t mean they found the good bits.”
Copernicus is history. Radiation’s aftermath churns on their screens as they descend through what’s left and into the hole that the
The dropship starts maneuvering through the tunnels beneath Nansen. SpaceCom marines are trying to stop it. They’re getting gunned down for their troubles—and hacked too. The software in their skulls is going haywire, shoving their brains over the edge. Velasquez hauls the dropship door open. Sarmax staggers to his feet, joins her there, and they start lacing targets while the ship accelerates.
The last of the doors swing toward her as she closes in on it. She feels all of existence pivot around her—feels time close in like a vise. She feels other minds out there, still trying to reach her even though she can see they’re far too late. But Sinclair and Control aren’t. They’re waiting for her inside. She steps past the final door—steps within—
Lynx and Linehan are shredding their way through Congreve’s basements. Lynx’s hack has the comps so fucked they don’t even know which way is up. Complete confusion reigns amidst the tunnels. All the more so as it looks like Eurasian forces have already deployed across the lunar surface. The garrison is deserting their posts, fleeing deeper beneath the surface. All too many are getting shot as they flee.
“Still too fucking
The Operative knows the feeling. This crazy operation’s going like clockwork, yet by the time he gets near the Room it’ll be way too late. He can fucking
The war is lost. Jarvin and Spencer take stock while they don new armor and load up at a reserve ammo dump. Glimpses on the zone show Spencer that the American fleet is getting pulverized above the nearside— fighting heroically, but overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Spencer wonders whose retarded idea it was to charge straight toward the Eurasian fleet. Not that there’s going to be a court of inquiries this time. There’ll be nothing left of the United States within the hour. Eurasian artillery is slamming into what’s left of Copernicus at point-blank range. Spencer and Jarvin feel more than a little relieved now that they’ve got roof above their heads. They move out, getting ever deeper into the lunar capital’s subbasements.
They’re smashing their way through what’s left of Nansen, reducing everything in sight to rubble. The fact that all the convict-miners seem to have somehow slipped their leashes is only adding to the confusion. The dropship
