David Williams - The Burning Skies

“ And I can’t do anything save fly cover.”

“ Not as long as I’m right here with you.”

She looks at him. He’s just like the Carson she remembers. He’s the man whom time never seemed to age. He’s been with her all this time. Ever since the day when he first came to her. Ever since she asked him how he could possibly teach her anything.

Ever since he told her.

“ Why did you sell out to Szilard?” she asks.

He laughs. “You really think that’s what’s going on?”

“ You’re saying Lynx isn’t under your control?”

“ You think he ever was?”

“ You think I can’t see through the game you’re playing.”

“ Maybe you should spell it out for me.”

“ Your team’s gone rogue. You’re going to hand the Throne over to the Lizard.”

“ Along with my fucking sanity? Fuck, Claire. I practically lost my life battling the SpaceCom conspiracy on the Moon.”

“ Not the SpaceCom conspiracy, Carson. A SpaceCom conspiracy. One among many that Szilard maintained outside of normal command channels. Only this particular network got infected by Autumn Rain. Szilard tried to use the Rain, and they just ended up playing him. He knew when to cut his losses.”

“ He still wants to be president, though.”

“ God only knows what contortions he’s going through to keep his game afloat.”

“ Nothing anywhere near as contorted as the logic twists you’re putting your own mind through.”

“ But that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“ You think so?” he asks.

“ You’re testing my capabilities even as you try to figure out what makes me tick. You want me running new theories through my feedback loops, so that you can study me all the closer.”

“ Keep talking.”

“ Oh you bastard. Why did you sell the Throne out?”

“ I haven’t. I’m still loyal.”

“ You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“ I’m the one guy who’s stuck with him through everything.”

“ You’re the one guy capable of this kind of treachery. Harrison’s a fool to have trusted you. And for that matter, so’s Szilard.”

“ Though it certainly made it a lot easier to finish the job against SpaceCom small-fry like Matthias.”

“ So you’re admitting it.”

“ What?”

“ That you’ve been working for the Lizard.”

“ In this game, the more bosses you have, the more leverage you get.”

“ But sooner or later you’ve got to prioritize.”

“ Well,” says Carson, “that’s the art.”

So you made it,” says Rear Admiral Jansen.

“ So yeah,” says Lynx. Jansen stretches, comes out from behind the desk, walks to where Linehan’s strapped to the gurney Looks at Linehan, who stares up at him helplessly. Jansen laughs, nods to the marines who stand in front of the door. “Wait outside,” he says.

The marines salute, exit the room. The door slides shut behind them. Jansen walks back behind the desk. Looks back at Lynx.

“ It’s about fucking time,” he says.

“ I got here as fast as I could. A more direct way wouldn’t have been safer.”

“ Don’t I know it. The fleet’s riddled with traitors of every stripe.”

“ And the Montana?”

“ Far too quiet.”

“ What about Szilard?”

“ He sees no one.”

“ Not even his bodyguards?”

“ You mean his latest bodyguards?”

“ Guess I just answered my own question.”

“ You bet your sweet ass. Christ, fuck the bodyguards: that’s how the Rain got in the last time. That’s how the Lizard beat the Rain’s hit team—purged his bodyguards and everybody else while he was at it. And then he ripped the head off the intelligence apparatus and placed me atop the bleeding stump.”

“ He’s lucky he had his own private network to draw from.”

“ Not lucky. Farsighted. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

“ What’s going on is that the Praetorians sent me in here to kill Szilard.”

“ That’s as predictable as it is funny.”

“ They’re coming apart at the seams. They’ll do anything to hang onto power.”

“ Like setting off a war?”

“ How do you know—”

“ You’re not the only agent we’ve got in the field.”

“ Yeah? Got anyone aboard the president’s ship?”

“ You’ve got the location of his fucking ship?”

“ For you, anything.”

Jansen gestures at Linehan. “And what about him?”

“ The last piece of the puzzle,” says Lynx. “The key to stopping the Rain once and for all.”

“ Aren’t the Rain history?”

“ I’m sure they’d like you to think so.”

“ Go on.”

“ This man Linehan—they met with him. They rigged him. In HK. He’s still got their software in his head. Reverse-engineer that and we can figure out how they ran rings around Matthias. How they brought down the zones. How they got into the Platform. How they got in here.”

“ You’re going to be moving up in the world,” says Jansen.

“ You too,” says Lynx.

They look at each other.

“ You really think they’re still on the loose?”

“ I don’t think it,” says Lynx. “I know.”

“ What makes you so sure?”

“ Call it a hunch,” says Lynx—just as a sentinel beam on the wall spits fire, strikes the acting head of SpaceCom intelligence in the back of the head, knocking him face first onto the desk. The smell of seared meat fills the room.

Lynx looks around. He gets up, turns as the door slides open and the two suited soldiers enter the room; next moment, they’re sprawling on the floor as their armor malfunctions and electrocutes them. The door slides shut.

For a moment Lynx stands there. Then he steps over to one of the dead soldiers, opens up the suit, pulls out the body, climbs in to take its place. The sweat of the man he’s just killed fills his nostrils. He pays it no heed, turns to Linehan, injects him. Another moment and Linehan has his bare hands around Lynx’s armored neck.

“ That’s not constructive,” says Lynx.

“ You twisted fuck.”

“ Look, I’ve got this room in lockdown but I don’t know how long I can keep it that way.”