David Williams - Mirrored Heavens

And draws back as she realizes what lies within them.

Control’s been doing time in the life for a lifetime. Control runs its true colors up the flagpole tonight. See, Control was charged with reversing the mission of the real one. Control was charged with fooling all those who thought they knew better.

Nor was that list small.

“So all that shit about breaking out of those data-tanks was all bullshit?” asks Spencer.

“Actually,” replies Control, “it wasn’t.”

Spencer’s sitting in a room. The Earth’s sitting in that room’s window. He’s not sure why they’ve brought him here. It certainly wasn’t to get him any closer to the one with whom he’s speaking. It certainly wasn’t because there was anything to see.

“Those events took place,” says Control. “Those details were real. They were the final moments of the thing whose place I took. They were its death struggles made manifest. The only alteration was the ending.”

“It didn’t escape,” says Spencer.

“No,” replies Control. “It didn’t. But it certainly tried. It’s no wonder Priam is such a player when it can put that kind of hardware into the field.”

“And what about Priam’s agents?”

“What about them?”

“Goddamn it, Control. Is this an interrogation or a debriefing?”

“Sometimes the one blurs so smoothly into the other,” says Control. “Sometimes the debriefing encompasses the briefing too. But fortunately you’re the one thing that can save you. You’ve served InfoCom well. Montrose herself has cited you.”

“Yeah? And has she cited the fact that everything in my life was a lie? London, Priam, Europe—all of it?”

“Again,” says Control, “those were the experiences of the man whom you replaced. Those were what we put together based on our insight into his life. For him they were the truth. For you, they were the truth of the moment. Look within yourself, Spencer. Even now you’ll see all the runs you’ve done for our Command coming into focus. A disquieting experience, I’ll warrant. Though I have no doubt you can handle it. Particularly with all the drugs you’re on.”

“I could use some more,” says Spencer.

“Let me offer you data instead. My penetration of Priam occurred several months ago. I mapped out their North American network. I identified their sources. I packed red herrings into barrels and sent them back to London. I was on a roll. But then came the downing of the Elevator. Subsequent to which we terminated your predecessor and slotted you in to take his place.”

“Which doesn’t follow. How the fuck did you know that Linehan would run to me? In fact, for that matter—how the fuck did you know about Linehan in the first place?”

“You forget,” says Control, “that we’re the lords of information. And my lady Montrose is nothing if not loyal to the Throne. We were the ones who first notified the Praetorians that there was a conspiracy within SpaceCom. We knew it was trying to set up a terrorist group as patsies in a hit on U.S. infrastructure. But we didn’t know the target. Or understand the why. Thanks to Autumn Rain, we lost track of all the players at the critical moment. But everything fell into place when the Elevator tumbled. We saw the members of that wet squad racing for their lives. We knew the dossiers of its personnel. We knew their contacts. We worked the probabilities. If it hadn’t worked out, we’d have shifted you somewhere you could have been more useful.”

“So you already knew everything Linehan did.”

“And more besides. We knew the Rain wouldn’t let Linehan get access to anything of real consequence. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be useful as bait.”

“Which worked a little too well.”

“Which worked like a charm. First SpaceCom tried to get you in the tunnels. Then the Jaguars themselves bit. Though I’m not sure I’d take at face value their claim that they wanted to cash in on Linehan for propaganda value. Anyone can broadcast anything and claim it’s for real. I suspect they were hoping to take his mind apart to see if they could learn more about Autumn Rain. That’s how their interrogations work. They dose the subjects, make them think they’ve died, get all their secrets in an apparent afterlife before killing them for real. The Jaguars may have accepted those missiles from the Rain. But they were desperate to avoid becoming their puppets.”

“So they became roadkill instead.”

“They sought victory or death. We gave them the latter. We didn’t know exactly where in those mountains they were. But the location of your abduction gave us enough to go on. Especially when the Throne unleashed its heaviest gear. Better call the Andes a desert now, Spencer. The Jaguars are one less problem. Unlike the Rain. Who remain very much a factor.”

“How do we know that?”

“We destroyed a base on both Earth and Moon and took out two hit teams. But it’s exactly the same as it was when we got in there in the aftermath of Elevator. Everything’s been cauterized. Their whole strategy seems to be aimed at surviving even the most absolute of reverses. We have reason to believe they’re regrouping. And that their leadership remains at large.”

“So where am I going next?”

“We haven’t put you into orbit for the scenery.”

“Yeah? Then tell me why I’m up here.”

Because you’re not going back.”

The Operative looks at the man who sits upon that screen. It’s a face he’s never seen before. It’s a face he knows too well.

It’s his handler.

“Not going back to what?”

“That,” says the handler, gesturing at the window behind the Operative in which the Moon floats. “We’ve no need for you there anymore.”

“No need? We’re still combing through all of Nansen’s wreckage. Not to mention figuring out if Matthias was reporting to anyone else within SpaceCom.”

“It’s true,” says the man. “Questions remain. As it happens, we brought you up here to discuss some of them.”

“Lay it on me.”

“They involve you.”

“Really?”

“You know I never joke.”

“Has somebody been questioning my loyalty?” asks the Operative. “Is that what this is all about?”

“No one’s questioning your loyalty, Carson. What’s at issue among my colleagues is your judgment.”

“Go on.”

“There’s a point of view afoot that says it was madness to get Sarmax involved. That it was folly to pursue the south-pole connection. And that it was downright crazy to push Lynx so close to his breaking point. There’s a point of view that wonders just what kind of three-ring circus you were running.”

“I’ll tell you what kind of three-ring circus I was running,” says the Operative. “One that blew the Rain’s game on the Moon sky-high and did it way ahead of anybody else.”

“A fact I’ve pointed out more than once.”

“It’s nice to know you’re still on my side.”

“When I’m not, you’ll be the first to know. Was there anything to suggest that Sarmax’s romantic liaison with a member of the Rain compromised him?”

“There was nothing. He’s loyal. And finished with his decade-long sulk. We needed him back. He needed a reason to get involved again. Which this most definitely was.”

“And Lynx?”

“What about him?”

“He isn’t too happy with the way you handled things either.”

“You mean running Sarmax behind his back?”

“He’s not thrilled about that at all. But what’s got him really worked up is the broader structure of the mission.”