The Machinery of Light (41 page)

“I’ll find a way to surprise him anyway.”

“You’ve got the coordinates?”

“Absolutely.”

“He’s way ahead of you, Jharek. Turn that on and God knows what will happen.”

“You know what they say about desperate times, Claire.”

The pillar’s starting to glow in a very weird way: some sort of greenish-blue. It starts to pervade the place, shadows running up and down over the walls. The two marines move in closer to Szilard.

T
hey take the room like any good commando squad: those on point going through, moving out into the room in different directions, the rearguard suddenly charging past the guys in the middle and in after the point and—

“All clear,” says Linehan.

The Operative and Lynx move through. The room looks like any normal office. Fancy, though: wood panels along the walls and door opposite. Nice carpet underfoot. A well-appointed desk takes up most of one corner. A very attractive woman sits at it. She regards them calmly.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” she asks.

She’s not in armor—just civilian clothing. She looks so good she’s got to be genetically engineered. But it’s not her looks that are making the Operative nervous.

“We’re here to see Dr. Sorensen,” says the Operative.

“Are you nuts?” says Lynx, and shoots the woman in the chest.

T
hey step out of the alcoves.

“You’d better answer my question,” says Sarmax, moving toward Spencer. Jarvin cuts in between them.

“Easy,” he says.

“You guys have been talking behind my back,” says Sarmax.

“Better get used to it,” says Spencer. “We’re the razors.”

“Where the hell’s my Indigo?”

“Where she’s always been,” says Jarvin.

“At Sinclair’s side,” says Spencer.

H
e’s counting on you doing this,” says Haskell. “Just not so soon,” replies Szilard. The pillar is now blazing so bright they’re having to adjust the shades on their visors. Haskell’s watching everything get just a little darker. She realizes the equipment has reached activation frequency.

“It’s too early,”
she says.

“You mean this doesn’t appear in any of your visions?”

She nods. He laughs. “Such a shame,” he says. “So sorry to disappoint you. But in truth, nothing’s written.”

There’s a blinding flash.

T
he woman’s blown backward out of her chair. She drops behind the desk.

“Suck it,” says Lynx.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” says the Operative.

“Let’s go see the doctor—shit!”

The woman’s coming up from behind the desk with a carbine, spraying explosive rounds. Lynx fires his suit-jets, leaps to one side and unloads on full-auto, unleashing in tandem with the four other men. Now the woman’s taking damage. Bullets slice through her flesh, starting to reveal the metal chassis underneath. The Operative tosses a grenade at the woman’s feet. It detonates, taking half the room with it.

H
ow am I supposed to reach her?” says Sarmax.

“She’s within a klick of us,” says Spencer.

“But like Jarvin said—this didn’t
work,”
says Sarmax.

“I’ve changed my mind,” says Jarvin.

T
he flash subsides. The room looks the same as it did before. Szilard looks puzzled.

“We haven’t moved,” he says.

“We weren’t supposed to,” says Haskell.

“This didn’t work?”

“Depends what you mean by ‘work,’” says a voice.

T
he room’s a shambles. So is the secretary-android. Smoke’s everywhere. The opposite door’s been blown down. Lynx is already moving through it. The Operative turns to the other three men.

“You guys stay here,” he says. “Set up a perimeter.”

“Perimeter?” asks Linehan.

“This room is the only way to reach what lies beyond it.”

“How long will you be?”

“Depends on how many questions you’ve got.”

Linehan mock-salutes. The Operative moves after Lynx.

Y
ou’re saying we just—?” asks Sarmax.

“More than just saying,” says Spencer.

“Welcome to the
Righteous Fire-Dragon,”
says Jarvin.

“Jesus,” says Sarmax. He checks his suit readouts—they all check out. “Is this
me?”

“Who else would it be?” asks Jarvin.

“Say hi to the new you,” says Spencer.

“What happened to the old one?”

“Nothing good.”

“Fuck,”
says Sarmax.

“And you might have lost a thing or two along the way.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“No such thing as quantum cloning,” says Spencer. “Something always gets lost in the shuffle.”

“You’re saying we should check our memories?” says Sarmax. “Like they weren’t suspect enough—”

“He’s saying don’t be surprised if you start bleeding out,” says Jarvin. “We’re just going to have to see how this plays out, huh.”

Spencer nods. “Terra incognita for sure.”

“Teleportation’s
real,”
mutters Sarmax.

“Real question is who else knows it,” says Jarvin.

S
he’s been thinking in that direction for a while now. After all, Sinclair’s been fucking with the space-time continuum. Once you’ve sent messages back from the future, bypassing space isn’t so far beyond the pale. But now she’s face to face with it. Because everyone in this chamber’s whirling. Standing on one end of the catwalk is a figure wearing what looks to be a seriously sophisticated suit of powered-armor.