David Williams - Mirrored Heavens

“All too many ground zeroes,” says the woman whom Haskell knew as Lilith. “Our teams are even now penetrating the innermost enclaves of both sides. For the Eurasian Coalition: a bunker beneath the Siberian tundra and a second in western China. For the United States: the fortress beneath the Canadian Rockies where the Throne itself is ensconced as well as the bridge of the SpaceCom flagship Montana . Within the hour, whatever’s left of the superpowers will be ours.”

Haskell looks scornful. “And what if it’s not?”

“It will be,” says the man she knew as Hagen. “We can’t fail. Our plan proceeds in upon its objective from every direction. The war that’s about to break out will only speed our triumph. Once hostilities are under way, no one will dare question the orders emanating from the center. No one will know who’s in charge. Even if the decision-making nexi of the nations elude our hit teams, war will make what remains to be done that much easier.”

“Easier?” asks Haskell. “ Easier? You’re talking about total fucking war . There’ll be nothing left to rule.”

“Not necessarily,” says Marlowe. “This is likely to be a contest of high-precision weaponry targeted against counter-force capabilities. Not cities. Victory will go to whoever can disrupt the other’s defensive grids. In fact—”

“You have got to be fucking shitting me.” Haskell steps in front of Marlowe. She grabs him by the arms. “You sound like you think we should be going along with them.”

“We should be going along with them,” he says. He pushes her arms down, takes her hands. “Claire: Sinclair lied to us. He tried to use us. You said it yourself: he’s a bastard.”

“Now rotting in the Throne’s own jail,” says Lilith. “He’s finished.”

“They’re all bastards,” says Marlowe. “All of them. Every last one. It’s time we turned the tables.”

Haskell pulls her hands away from Marlowe. Steps backward. “Jason,” she whispers. She turns to Lilith. “You bitch,” she says. “You’ve brainwashed him.”

“Jason,” says Lilith. “Do you feel brainwashed?”

“I feel like I’m finally free,” replies Marlowe.

“Well, you would !” cries Haskell.

“Don’t be stupid,” says Hagen. “We’ve left you both to make a free choice. Otherwise why the hell would you still be arguing?”

“Because what you propose is so fucked up, that’s why! I’m not the one who needs to explain why your attempt to fuck my head’s failed. I’m not the one who should be begging you not to start this fucking war. But I am: for the love of God, don’t fucking do it .”

“But we already have,” says Lilith. A countdown starts up on every screen. “These are the final moments of the peace. In less than two minutes, SpaceCom black-ops units on the lunar farside will hit their own fleet at L2. The Jaguars will obliterate everything within a hundred klicks of the Andes. And we ourselves will unleash thousands of Eurasian replica-missiles from the Pacific Ocean floor on the fleet that’s blockading HK. The United States will stagger. It will hit back on all fronts against the Coalition. Even if the Throne can stay its hand—its automated defenses won’t. A general strike on the East will be the only option. Before the Coalition reaches a similar conclusion.”

“You can’t stop the thing that everybody wants,” says Hagen. “Everyone thinks they’re going to gain from the start of all-out shooting. Like pieces tearing themselves from the chessboard: all they’re doing is paving the way for us.”

“Claire,” says Morat. “Don’t you see it? We were blind to think we could ever stop them. They figured it all out. Easier to subvert one superpower than two. So, ignite war and let one prevail: but in that igniting sow additional seeds—easier to steal in between the superpowers, easier to take the inner enclaves when they’re locked down. When no one even sees what they’re guarding.”

“Just because it’s brilliant doesn’t make it right,” snarls Haskell.

“Doesn’t matter what you think,” says Lilith. “It’s what’s going to happen.”

“Over my dead body,” says Haskell.

“I’ve been told to do that if it’s necessary,” says Morat.

“Claire,” says Marlowe. “ Don’t do this.”

Haskell walks up to Lilith. “I mean it,” she says. “Kill me now, before you start this fucking war!”

Lilith reaches out toward Haskell as though to implore her. “The last war ever,” she says.

“I’ve heard that one before,” replies Haskell.

“Seventy-five seconds,” says Morat.

“Raise your thinking.” Lilith gestures at the screens. “We’re no ordinary conquerors. Our rule will take humanity to the next level. We’ll do what nations never could. End injustice. End war. Harness the resources of the solar system. We’ll colonize Sol’s farthest planets inside a generation. We’ll start in upon the universe in no time at all. We’re capable of anything. Especially now we have the Manilishi.”

“I thought you said there was no Manilishi,” says Haskell.

“Actually,” says Hagen, “there is.”

She looks at him.

“It’s you,” says Morat.

Her head jerks up to meet his eyes. He’s still sitting at the top of the stairs. His face is still expressionless. She looks away, stares at the three who stand about her in the center of the room. There’s just under a minute remaining on the counter.

Rising in the heart of mountain is a man-made peak. It looks out onto a simulation of a sky whose stars cluster into constellations that hung above the Earth more than a thousand years ago. Back before those interlopers arrived from across the sea. Back before they set all that followed into motion.

“But tonight we reverse that tide at last,” says Paynal.

Spencer tries to focus on him. It’s not easy. Jeweled birds and jade-eyed cats keep on crowding out his vision. He feels himself dragged onto the altar slab. He hears Linehan cursing. He hears a voice drowning out those curses.

“Spare us your oaths,” says the Jaguar leader. “Nothing you say can stop us now. In moments we burn the liquid fuel that sits within our missiles. But first we rip out your living hearts. And let your spirits race our weapons out into eternity.”

Spencer tries to focus on those words. But they’re drowned out by the wreckage of his own thoughts. Was he really an American agent all along? Was he a Priam operative who got co-opted? He knows that both those lives are closing on the same death. He knows he’s about to run the only border that ever mattered. He hears the leader of the Jaguars speaking in the tones of ritual. He sees the knife being raised above him.

Destiny approaches,” says Matthias.

His face has vanished from the screen. It’s been replaced by video of men running away from one of the heavy lasers. Makeshift power plants tremble. Rising from the floor is a barrel five times the length of a man. It’s pointed at a hole in the ceiling. It looks like it’s ready to fire any moment.

“Light to run the gauntlet of the mirrors in that laser,” says Matthias. “Straight onto a Eurasian mirror-sat that’s overhead. And from there into the midst of the L2 fleet. That mirror-sat may just end up being the most expensive single item in the Coalition’s budget. Given what it’s about to visit upon them. To say nothing of the nine other cannons I’m watching on the screens you don’t see.”