Lin waved the words away, but not without sympathy. “Chairman Sheng, given the situation, you must appreciate that we have a far more important task for you.”
“A more important task?” he echoed.
Lin looked vaguely regretful. “We do not always get to choose our fate,” he said. “Sometimes, fate chooses us.”
Sheng had never been a student of aphorisms, only action. He wanted to know what Beijing had in store for him. Lin did not respond immediately, and honor demanded that Sheng not press him.
As the Sun Wukong engaged its all-but-silent engines, Lin looked back at Sheng. He was resolutely serene.
“Please employ our secure IC link,” the vice administrator said. “It has been activated for you.”
Lin rose and left the cabin. Sheng did not even turn to look at the crippled Jade Star as they pulled away. The past and present were irrelevant. Only the future mattered.
Sheng touched the floating button that flashed just before his forehead. The face of a man he didn’t recognize appeared. The plain, innocuous, middle-aged man had the pleased look of someone who had just won a bet.
“Chairman Sheng, I am happy to see that you are well.”
“You are most gracious . . . sir.”
Sheng responded generally, unsure about the man’s rank or position.
“You will forgive me for listening in,” the man said affably. “I am pleased that you wished to remain at your post.”
“I still wish it.”
“Of course you do,” the man said. He smiled patiently, but with narrowed eyes and the flat logic of the best Chinese government officials—as if what they said was simply the unassailable truth. “Yet space is vast and you are only seeing your small part of it.”
Sheng felt something tight in his shoulders. And it wasn’t the acceleration of Sun Wukong. He had felt it before, when he had been informed of his new position on the Jade Star—a sense of weight being piled upon him. Not unwelcome, but full of unknown challenges.
“Sir, what could possibly be more important?” he replied cautiously.
The friendly, innocuous man no longer equivocated. “Upon your return to Earth, you will be named our new space ambassador.”
“Sir?”
“The party appreciates a man with wisdom, courage . . . and luck. On no authority other than your own, you demonstrated that an American weapon could have destroyed all of civilization. You forced them to go to desperate lengths to shut it down—an admission of profound failure on their part. You are a hero, Chairman Sheng.” The man smiled knowingly. “A lucky hero, but the people will not know that.”
Sheng was accustomed to facts being twisted and history rewritten. But it had never happened to him. Perhaps, in the absence of gravity, he should have expected even failed operations to be turned on their head.
“I note that you were born in an ‘eight’ year,” the man said. “A year of the Dragon.”
“In 2008,” Sheng said.
“That is good,” the man said. “A powerful image. It will be incorporated in your official statements.” The man leaned forward in the IC image. “You will be introduced to the people as a hero, one who risked his life and the lives of his crew for the glory of the Republic. You will be celebrated as such. And then you will rest. You will recover by the sea, organize a staff, after which you will attend international meetings, speeches, conferences, and events. You will represent us with a powerful voice—a voice so powerful that it cowed America without uttering a word.” The man leaned back, satisfied. “I will be present, but inconsequential—always unobtrusive but attentive, always making friends where need be, always listening. I will make sure that the right seed, planted at the right time, will bloom.”
Sheng smiled in kinship. The two words always listening told him who this man really was. He was an agent of MOSASS, the Ministry of State and Space Security. These people spent decades deep undercover. Just looking at him, Sheng could see how this man excelled at his job. Even in the minutes the chairman had known him, he felt friendship and trust. This man had that kind of face.
The MOSASS operative moved to terminate the call, to allow the chairman to rest.
Sheng raised a hand. “May I know the name of my benefactor and guardian?” he asked with honest solicitude.
The man smiled benignly. Then, saying nothing, he vanished from Sheng’s IC.
A moment later, Lin returned carrying food and drink in pouches. He took his seat.
“I am honored to be your new liaison,” he said. “You will understand that hereafter I speak with the full authority of my superior.”
Lin nodded generally to where the face of the MOSASS agent had recently been.
With a strong sense of renewal, Sheng watched as Lin placed the magnetic containers on the armrest of the seat.
“Do you require anything else?” Lin asked, then added, “Mr. Ambassdor?”
Sheng turned toward the window and looked at the Jade Star as it receded. Soon it was gone and what he saw was the universe spread before him.
“No,” he said gently. “I have everything I need.”
THIRTY-ONE
THE UNCONSCIOUS JACK Franco was placed in a holding cell adjacent to the cargo bay. This was one of two small cells on the Empyrean, and the colonel was its first guest. His confession had been undocumented, and he would not be returned to Earth until Zero-G could collect sufficient evidence to tie him to the theft of Dr. May’s data; undoubtedly, his colleagues at the DIA would come quietly forward and help scapegoat Franco to forestall an investigation of the entire organization. The cry for blood over the widespread destruction was already intense; the case would be closed on a “lone gunman,” even though Lord strongly doubted that he had done this on his own accord.
Which is fine, Lord thought as he finally made his way to the sick bay after his EVA. Zero-G will be watching the people who backed that son of a bitch.
Lord lay himself on the gurney and Dr. Carter ran a series of handheld devices over his body.
“Pretty impressive,” Carter said. “Except for bumps and some elevated vitals, you’re fine. How do you feel?”
“Same as I did the first time I ejected from a Vampire,” Lord replied. “Glorious ride, but I hope I never have to do that again.”
“Do you really hope that?” Carter asked.
Lord regarded him. “Is that for your psych analysis?”
Carter nodded.
“Yes,” Lord said. “The physical bruises—they’ll heal. The rage at parts of the system? Worse.” He pointed with his chin. “How is EAD Waters?”
Carter glanced over at the other gurney, where Adsila was asleep. “She’s fine. The sedative I gave her will wear off in about an hour. I want to conduct some final tests to make sure Ziv Levy’s nanites don’t have any further hold on her.”
Lord nodded. “She was tough out there, Doctor. I was proud of her. I’ve been proud of everyone today.”
“I’m sure they’d say the same about you, Mr. Director. You’re quite the warhorse.”
“With an emphasis on the ‘horse,’ ” Lord said. “War is just something I’ve had to do.”
“Unfortunately, that’s what pushes science forward,” Carter replied.
Lord regarded him critically. “Dr. May had the same complaint. She resisted it. You don’t sound very upset.”
“Is that a judgment, Sam?”
“I’m just asking, Doc.”
“Frankly? I’m beyond depression,” Carter said. “I’ve seen way too many lives and bodies come apart over the years. Not just in war but from crime, accidents, suicide . . . what disgusts me are our territorial natures, not the myriad ways they are manifest.” He snickered mirthlessly. “I took a look at some of the profiling Al-Kazaz sent up about the Chinese. I’m sure you had time to study it all—?”
“
Every damn word.” Lord grinned.
“There was one observation that jumped out,” Carter said as he stowed his tools. “Something written in AD 320 that apparently shaped the Chinese worldview—or maybe I should say their cosmic view. The philosopher Ko Hung warned his countrymen not to dwell on what he called ‘inferior subdivisions.’ He meant wealth and comforts, but extrapolate that out: it’s why they’re up here, Sam. Empire building. It’s also why I try to avoid criticizing where my funding comes from or why. We’ve got to combat that. I’m here to move the ball by whatever means they give me.”
Lord sat up. “Points taken,” he said. “We horses are not big-picture animals.”
“You’re also not a cynic,” Carter said. “Hold on to that spirit. The place some of the rest of us inhabit? It’s like Jupiter, Sam. The atmosphere is deep and noxious and it’ll crush you.”
“Or,” Lord said, “as some scientists have posited, add enough mass and that big old planet will undergo thermonuclear reactions and become a star.”
“Which would be good for Jupiter, very bad for Earth,” Carter said. “Nothing in the universe is free or clean.”
The men shared the first honest handshake Lord could recall as the doctor helped him from the gurney.
“Get some sleep and turn off your IC,” Carter advised.
“I plan to do both as soon as I send some people on their way and have a chat with the boss.”
Carter grinned. “Do not overexert yourself, Sam.”
Lord held up his hands in surrender before turning to go.
Dr. May was waiting in the lounge at the public docking bay. As soon as Stanton gave the all-clear, she would take the shuttle for a trip to Earth for a debriefing. Saranya still had the jumper, so Lord was able to steal a look at the orders that had come from NASA; they were curt and unadorned, as if they were preparing her to take some responsibility for what happened.
Unlike the others who were waiting to board, Saranya did not have guest quarters. Lord found her standing by the viewport, holding the handrail and looking at the moon.
“Don’t worry, you’ll go back,” Lord said.
She turned to look at him. “How was your—what is this, the second or third trip to the medbay in forty-eight hours?”
“Second, and I’m fine,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “I’ve got so much scar tissue atop scar tissue that nothing short of a solar flare will stop me.”
With a little smile, she took his hand . . . and pressed something into it. Lord looked down and grinned.
“I thought you might want that back,” she said. “It fell from my space suit when I was changing.”
Lord tucked the jumper in the pocket of his tunic. “Sorry I couldn’t give you a heads-up.”
“No apology is necessary,” she said. “Not after the good use you put it to.”
“I stopped someone who did something murderous,” he said. “That’s just my job.”
“You’re being overly modest,” she replied. Before Lord could shrug that off too, she said, “Is it true what I’ve heard? About who was behind this?”
“The confession of an electrified felon is not admissible in court,” he said. “We’re still collecting evidence and data. It’ll be up to a tribunal to decide the rest. Until then—”
“You’re not a judge,” she said.
“Actually, what I was about to say is I’m not a gossip,” he told her. “I judge people all the time. That’s part of the job.”
She looked back out the window, this time in the direction of the torn Jade Star. “How do you judge me?”
“You were, are, a brilliant comrade-in-arms—”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “A lot of this—it’s my fault. I created something I knew could be weaponized, but I did it anyway.”
“Saranya, there’s a lot of soul-searching going around, as well there should be,” Lord said. He moved closer. She turned up her chin, looked into his eyes. “What I believe is that you are a visionary. When you go back to Earth, fight for what you want to do . . . not what they want you to do.”
“I may not have the opportunity,” she said. “They’ll try to blame me.”
“They’ll probably try, and fail,” Lord assured her. “I’ll make sure they hear about how this happened—that you couldn’t have done anything to prevent it.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But even so, I don’t think that pure research justifies the real estate I occupy on the moon. Not when they have Ras Diego, who will do just about anything to stay up there and play with antimatter. He’s going back on the John Young, you know.”
Lord nodded. On his way over, the Zero-G chief had checked the scientist’s location: he was having a meal at the Scrub and would be returning to Armstrong Base as soon as the shuttle from Earth arrived with fresh supplies for the moon. Tengan needed to replace the pallet that was lost in the crash. No data had been stolen from Diego’s workstation, so there was no reason for him to go back to Earth with Saranya.
“Different subject,” Lord said.
“Gladly,” she said with a smile.
“Why didn’t you ask to wait in my quarters instead of out here?”
She blushed. “Because I might not have wanted to leave. Not immediately, anyway.”
“No reason you’d have to,” he said. “We can tell Houston I ordered you to stay and answer questions.”
“What kind of ‘questions’?” She grinned. “About dark-matter halo densities? Stellar metallicity?”
He smiled back. “Saranya, you make both of those sound unbearably sexy.”
She moved closer. “Say that again and I might miss my shuttle.”
“Miss it,” Lord coaxed.
She held his eyes a moment longer. “I have a better idea,” she said. “Why don’t I plan on a layover on the way back?”
“That’s actually a worse idea,” Lord said. “Waiting is not my strong suit.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Though,” he went on, “my bruised body says it’s probably the wiser play.” He kissed her on the mouth. Then again, for longer. When he stepped back he said, “Well, we’re sure of one thing.”
“What’s that?”
He said, “Not all explosions today involve antimatter.”
She blushed and kissed him again and they stood there until Stanton interrupted with a shipwide opening of all public and private docking bays.
Lord made his way to the bay entrance, standing there like a marshal making sure that everyone who didn’t belong in Tombstone left Tombstone. He acknowledged Mexican General Arturo Hierra with a small salute, Ambassador Pangari Jones of New Zealand with a polite nod, then saw the one he was waiting for. Shouldering through the crowd, he reached Kristine Cavanaugh and took her aside. She grinned broadly when she saw him.
“It’s good to see you looking well,” he said.
“I had some lovely, lovely bed rest, thanks to you,” she replied. “It gave me time to think about the future and the kind of people I want to spend it with.”
“I’m very glad to—”
“I want to join Zero-G,” she said.
He didn’t bother to finish. “That’s—a pretty big change,” he said.
“Exactly,” she replied. “You saved my life. From what I hear, you saved many lives. I want to do that. I want to do and be something useful.”
“It will take a lot of training, a big commitment of time—several years.”
“If it enables me to do the kinds of things your team does, it will be worth every second.”
He looked at her with open admiration. Maybe it was nothing more than youthful enthusiasm, but it was exactly the kind of idealism he needed to hear.
“If you’re serious,” he said, “I’ll tell you who to contact.”
“Already done,” she said
. “Agent McClure also told me he would personally show me around the Zero-G facility on his next leave.”
“That’s our team, ready to go the extra parsec.” Lord beamed. “The G stands for ‘generosity.’ ”
Kristine frowned. “So—you have zero generosity? I don’t understand.”
Lord was caught off-guard. “We’ve had a conversation like this before, haven’t we?” He grinned. “Once again, my mistake. It’s been a long couple of days.”
“But good ones.” She hugged Lord—then hurried to board the shuttle. Lord watched her go, saw Dr. May get on board, and waited until the shuttle was gone before turning and heading for the comm.
Adsila Waters woke and found a pair of strangely familiar eyes looking down at her. It took her a moment to recognize them as Ziv Levy’s. The CHAI’s features had an uncharacteristically benevolent cast, as though he had just watched a child take his first steps on robotic legs.
He leaned his IC into hers. The number 10 flashed repeatedly above a row of computer-generated Olympic judges—all of whom looked like Ziv.
Adsila laughed—or did the best she could. Her throat was raw from trying to suck oxygen from her nearly drained tank.
“Very, very impressive for human sinew,” he said.
“It was a team effort,” she rasped. “Which is the only reason I can hope to forgive you for the way you used me.” She raised a finger. “That, and the rescue of Agent McClure, which I’d like to believe had a hint of humanity in it.”
“We call it CHAImanity,” he said, “and it did. Your man was courageous and dedicated. I would never let anyone who had those qualities die unattended.” He gave Adsila a marginally cold-blooded look. “Besides, I may need Agent McClure someday.”
“That’s why I said ‘a hint,’” she said. “Speaking of treachery, we’ve got your little robots in a dish. I’m half-tempted to return them to you. The way they came.”
“Any time you wish,” Ziv said. The cold-bloodedness remained. “You are going to be most interesting to know, EAD Adsila Waters.”
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