David Williams - Mirrored Heavens

“Those aren’t soldiers,” says the Operative.

“No,” replies Matthias. “They’re convicts. And all the more expendable for it.”

“Sure,” says the Operative. “And what about the ‘convicts’ that Autumn Rain snuck onto that fucking Elevator? Had you considered that?”

Matthias doesn’t reply.

“And what about those fucking tunnels beneath us? Have you searched every fucking meter of them? ”

“Enough,” says Matthias. “Watch.”

* * *

The last of Haskell’s memories pour across her. She feels her whole being caught up in that rush. She feels latent powers within her activating. She’s trembling uncontrollably. She’s backing up against the wall.

“Is this real,” she whispers. “ Is this fucking real?”

“It’s real,” says Lilith. “ We’re real.”

“Tell me what I am, ” begs Haskell.

“We’ve never ceased to love you,” says Lilith. “Now you know how much we need you too. And why Sinclair kept you for himself. You’re the biocomputer Manilishi that was commissioned as the capstone on the Autumn Rain experiment. The combination of surgery and genetics that nobody has ever replicated. Invincible by virtue of the intuition that allows you to compensate for the time that data takes to travel within the Earth-Moon system. You’re the ultimate razor, Claire. And you’ve only just started to tap your powers.”

“I need to sit down,” mutters Haskell.

They lead her to a chair. The world spins about her. Her past comes rushing up to claim her. She feels a need for zone unlike any she’s ever known. She feels a kinship with those around her that’s stronger than anything she’s ever felt.

Or remembered.

“I am Rain,” she says. “I’m this thing.”

“Yes, Claire,” says Marlowe. He strokes her cheek.

“I’m scared.”

“You’re a god,” replies Lilith.

“That’s why I’m scared.”

“Break past it,” says Hagen. “Break in there and run zone coverage on our hit teams.”

“Augment the power of the U.S. first strike,” says Lilith.

“Fifteen seconds,” says Morat.

“It’ll be a better world,” says Marlowe. “It’ll be our world. It’ll be Eden. And I’ll be waiting for you in it if you’ll still have me.”

“I will,” she whispers. What’s left of her resistance drops away. “God help me, I will.”

“Then jack in,” he replies.

She does. Everything looms before her.

Faces loom above Spencer. Cats and humans and moons and gods and all of it rolled up into one voice:

“The land in which you die is the oldest one of all. That which you call South America and which we know as the world’s own navel. Take comfort in the fact that your blood shall water such blessed green. Even as it frees the people that time itself enslaved.”

“If I don’t kill you in this life, I’ll do it in the next,” says Spencer evenly.

“Take these chains off and fight me like a man!” screams Linehan.

“Commence launch sequence,” says Paynal.

A vast rumbling starts up all around.

The heavy laser vanishes, replaced by a close-up of the L2 fleet. The Operative stares at it. He looks at all those ships and sats and stations arranged in interlocking formations around that libration point. He zeroes in upon the ship that sits within the formation’s center.

The screen goes blank.

The door opens. A SpaceCom marine in full armor enters the room.

“Are you my executioner?” says the Operative.

“Not quite,” says Leo Sarmax, throwing back his visor.

“But we’ve got a lot of people that need dying fast,” says the voice of Stefan Lynx.

A massive explosion shakes the base.

Zone like she’s never seen it. Existence like she’s never imagined. A view she’d never dreamt of attaining. The SeaMech shakes about her as the missiles fire. The nearest launch site is more than three klicks away. But there are hundreds more that aren’t much farther out than that. The room’s rocking like it’s in the throes of earthquake. Haskell watches on the zone as those missiles leap from the seabed, rush up through water. She races in behind them. She’s running countermeasures on the U.S. fleet. She’s running cover on the Rain’s hit teams engaged on their final runs. She realizes there’s no way they can lose. Not with her supporting them. Not with the zone blasting out in all directions: her mind surging outward, everything expanding toward infinity. She’s thrust far beyond herself now—out to where Claire Haskell seems like a dream. Yet through that blur she sees that all her life has led up to this moment—that the lost children of her past are going to rule all futures. She sees with sudden clarity the nature of those futures.

And in that instant she understands.

Cold heat and white light—she burns the Rain’s hit teams with all her strength: and sends that force rushing back in upon itself, smashing the SeaMech and its occupants with a zone-strike that’s far beyond anything she’s ever unleashed. She sees the room around her light up in one giant flash.

And then she hears the missiles hit.

* * *

It sounds like the whole world is detonating. The simulation of sky suddenly gets replaced by a real ceiling that’s caving in. Spencer rolls to one side, knocks the Jaguar who’s standing over him off his feet—grabs his knife and shoves it into its wielder’s chest even as rocks tumble all around them. Something hits his head. He sees stars—he ducks low, starts running for what seems to be open space. He crashes past a metal-fitted doorway, finds himself in a passageway that’s still intact. The floor’s buckling under his feet. Thunder’s crashing in from every side.

“This is it,” screams Linehan.

Spencer turns around to see him emerging from the shattered room. He’s broken most of his chains. The expression on his face is one that’s left sanity far behind. But then that expression’s wiped away as Spencer suddenly finds access to the zone. He’d thought the ayahuasca precluded it. Now he realizes that prisoners in this complex are simply kept within shielded rooms like the one from which he’s just emerged. For he can see the American zone on wireless. It’s bearing down upon him. It’s not what he needs: he yanks a light fixture from the wall, grabs the wires behind it, enters the Jaguar zone, scans it in an instant. He retracts, stares at Linehan’s ever-shifting face.

And starts shouting.

“What do you mean that wasn’t him?” says Linehan.

“That wasn’t him, you asshole! Just because they’re crazy enough to believe in human sacrifice doesn’t mean they’re stupid enough to put their leader right next to live prisoners!”

“So where the fuck is he?”

“His throne room’s five levels down. He’s coordinating defenses from there. The Americans are tearing the lid off this shithole.”

“The Americans? You mean you! You mean us!”

“Yeah,” says Spencer, “I mean us. I hate your guts and you hate mine and we’re tripping our balls off and the clock’s ticking and we might just have time for one last run—”