“No,” she says, “I didn’t. I just found out about it. I never did it. I never fucked anyone’s head in half and stitched the pieces together with software and illusion. I never killed anybody’s past.”
“You think killing someone’s future’s any better?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You take less of their life that way.”
“Sophistry,” says Marlowe.
“Reality,” says Haskell. “And you should hope so. Having done enough of it.”
“Done enough of what?”
“Kill people.”
“I never killed anybody who wasn’t trying to return the favor. What’s up here? Do you want me to feel guilty?”
“How can I answer that?”
“Oh,” says Marlowe slowly. “You’re the one who feels the guilt.”
“Of course,” she says softly. “At least you see your victims. At least you give them a chance to fight.”
“Not if I can help it,” he replies. He arches an eyebrow. “Didn’t that file tell you I have no remorse?”
“Look,” she says, “I’m sorry I told you I’d read that.”
“But were you sorry to have read it in the first place?”
“I’m not sure.”
“And why did you tell me you’d read it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re sure about so much else. Why not this?”
“Because I’m sure about nothing that concerns Jason Marlowe.”
“Probably because you’re sure about nothing that concerns Claire Haskell.”
“I understand myself fine,” she says.
“Of course.”
“It’s my feelings that are the problem.”
“Same here. But then again, you already know that.”
“I do?”
“You read my file,” he says.
“I thought we’d gotten past that.”
“You know my memories, Claire. You were part of them.”
“But you don’t even know if those memories were real!”
“They’re real enough to count.” This last is said out loud. He stands up. She steps back to that window. Turns away. Turns back. Her eyes are wet with tears.
“I know,” she says, and now she’s talking out loud too. “Same here. You left. You came back. I feel like they’re fucking with me. They’re fucking with me by putting you here.”
“Maybe some good will come of it.”
“Good,” she says. “Come here.”
He walks to her, stands next to her. They don’t look at each other. They just watch the traffic rumble on the endless concrete, rise up into those endless skies. She reaches out, touches his hand.
“We’re going to the Moon,” she says.
“I don’t care where we’re going.”
“I do,” she replies.
He says nothing to that—just leans over, starts running a finger down her cheek. She puts her head on his shoulder. He turns into her, kisses her on the lips.
“About time we got this show on the road,” says Morat.
The words ring around their heads. The door to the room slides open. Morat’s standing there. He steps forward even as the buzzing of the room’s intercom subsides. The door hisses shut behind him.
“You often listen in on other people’s conversations?” asks Haskell.
“In point of fact,” says Morat, “I never stop.”
“Which is as it should be,” replies Haskell. “For a man who has no life of his own—”
“Please,” says Morat. “Which of us does?”
“Speak for yourself.”
“I’ll speak for all of us. Having no life is the price of being in the life. As you well know. Your transport’s here. They’re topping off the boosters. You’ll board in just a moment.”
“But first you’re going to brief us,” says Marlowe. “I mean, assuming you’re here for a reason.”
“I got a couple of good ones,” says Morat. “I got your number, Marlowe. You’d better not fuck this up and let our Claire get hurt. She dies and you’d better not come back. You’re expendable. She’s not. You got that?”
“Sure,” says Marlowe.
“Good. Because that’s the first item of the secondary briefing.”
“A joint briefing?” Haskell sounds amused.
“You have tactical command. But we need you to work as a unit. You’ll withhold nothing from Jason. That’s straight from the old man himself.”
She wonders whether the double meaning is intended. She wonders many things. “How can the secondary briefing compensate for the fact that the first involved no trance?”
“Because you and Jason come specially prepared,” replies Morat. “Item two: we now believe the Throne may be the Rain’s ultimate target. If that’s the case, whatever they’re up to on the Moon will be intended to get them closer to him.”
“Is there a Praetorian presence on the Moon?” asks Haskell.
“Item three,” says Morat without acknowledging her question. “The struggle between the Commands is intensifying in parallel with the search for Autumn Rain. Partially because the Coms’ individual investigations are all running onto the same track. But also because with the Throne threatened, other players in the Inner Cabinet become much more likely to attempt a coup. At the very least they need to be ready in case someone else tries one.”
“Can you project the latest strength estimates for the Commands?” asks Marlowe.
Morat sends a screen hurtling into their minds:
SpaceCom (Szilard) 28%
InfoCom (Montrose) 26%
ArmyCom (Secord) 5%
NavCom (Asgard) 22%
CICom (Sinclair) 19%
“The usual caveats apply,” he adds. “The current relative power of the Coms, expressed as infighting capability rather than firepower. ArmyCom alone could blow up the world ten times—but as a contender in the Inner Cabinet, it’s pretty much toast. The last few months have seen to that. And you can see who’s benefited.”
Haskell can. “Info and Space are really getting up there.”
“The hatred between those two runs deep,” says Morat. “Maybe too deep. One’s tempted to speculate that the Throne let Army get eaten a little too quickly. Or that he was anticipating it getting shared out more evenly. Usually he’s much more adroit at turning the Coms’ divisions to his advantage. Or perhaps he simply didn’t anticipate that matters would be interrupted by the likes of Autumn Rain.”
Marlowe and Haskell say nothing.
“Good,” says Morat. “Say nothing. Speculating on the Throne is my privilege. Sinclair has supported this president since long before he was president. He won’t stop now. Stay alert for the Rain trying to take advantage of the conflict among the other Commands. All of them save Army maintain units on the Moon. SpaceCom’s control of Agrippa and the fleet at L2 gives it the upper hand. But it’s hardly a settled issue. It’s made even less settled by the fact that at Zurich we gave the East a quarter of the whole damn rock. Which also happens to be item four—keep an eye out for any linkage between Eurasian agents and Autumn Rain. The hardliners in the Coalition appear to be gaining in power.”
A second screen flits into their heads. It shows dossiers of certain members of the Praesidium.
“The core faction of hardliners,” says Morat. “Their support is growing, in spite of the dominance of the moderates these last few years. All the individuals you’re looking at have consistently advocated that the Coalition intensify its confrontation with the United States. All were dead set against Zurich. We have reports that at least one of them advocated a general first strike against us during the ’98 Israeli-Arab nukeout.”
“Well,” says Marlowe, “speed-of-light weaponry favors the one who hits first—”
“I’m not talking about the theory,” Morat snaps. “I’m talking about the practice. So what if we switch on twenty thousand directed energy cannon and blow as much of their infrastructure as we can to pieces? What happens next? What about the hacker attacks? What about the secret weapons? What about all the things we don’t hit? What about all the things we never thought about? We’ve already de-targeted most cities because we’re going to need every scrap of firepower we can get to penetrate the East’s defenses. They’ve done the same. Amazing that in the twentieth century it would have all ended with nukes knocking out every city on Earth. We should have so many warheads. Only one in a thousand hypersonic missiles gets through a full continental screen; there’s no way we could ever be so profligate during the initial exchange as to fuck with cities. Don’t you dare think the Coalition has ceased to be a factor. Whether or not it or its hardliners set in motion Autumn Rain, the East will seek to exploit the situation. For propaganda if nothing else.”