Echopraxia by Peter Watts

an incubation period, it always took time for a few lucky spores to hatch out in the lungs and breed an army big enough to take down a human body. Even the magic of exponential growth took hours to manifest.
    The enemy—
    â€” People like you, Lianna had said—
    â€”must have set this plan in motion the moment they’d set up their perimeter. It wouldn’t have mattered one good goddamn if the whole Bicameral Order had marched out across the desert with their hands in the air; the weapon was already in their blood, and it was blind to white flags.
    â€œHow could you let them do this?” Brüks hissed. “You’re supposed to be smarter than us, you’re post-fucking- singular, you’re supposed to be ten steps ahead of any plan we poor stupid cavemen could ever put together. How could you let them? ”
    â€œOh, but this is all according to plan.” Luckett patted him on the arm with one spastic, short-circuiting hand.
    â€œWhat plan ?” Brüks choked back a hysterical giggle. “We’re dead already—”
    â€œEven God can’t plan for everything. Too many variables.” Luckett coughed again. “Not to worry, though. We planned for the things we couldn’t plan for…”
    Faintly, through the open door—drifting down the corridor, through high narrow windows; through barred gates, through glass panes looking into deserts and gardens: a whistling sound, Doppler-shifted. The muffled thud of some nearby impact.
    â€œAh. The mopping-up begins.” Luckett nodded serenely. “No point being stealthy now, eh?”
    Brüks put his head in his hands.
    â€œDon’t worry, old chap. It’s not over yet, not for you anyway. Jim’s lair. He’s waiting for you.”
    Brüks raised his head. “Jim—but—”
    â€œI told you,” Luckett said. “According to plan.” Spasms rippled across his body. “ Go .”
    And now Brüks heard another sound, a deeper sound, rumbling up the scale behind the hacking of the maimed and whistling shriek of inbound paralysis. He felt the vibration of great blades spinning up far down in the earth, heard the muffled hiss of steam injected into deep silos. He heard the growing drumbeat of an elemental monster straining against its chains.
    â€œNow that, ” he said, “is more fucking like it.”
    *   *   *
    Moore was in his bunker, but he wasn’t running the show. No controls blinked on the smart paint, no sliders or dials or virtual buttons to press. The readouts were all one-way. Somewhere else, the Bicamerals were bringing their engine online; Moore was only watching from the bleachers.
    He turned at Brüks’s approach. “They’re dug in.”
    â€œDoesn’t matter, though, right? We’re gonna tear them to pieces.”
    The soldier turned back to the wall and shook his head.
    â€œWhat’s the problem? They out of range?”
    â€œWe’re not fighting.”
    â€œ Not fighting? Have you seen what they’re doing to us?”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œEveryone’s dead or halfway there!”
    â€œWe’re not.”
    â€œRight.” Nerves sang ominously in Brüks’s fingers. “And how long is that going to last?”
    â€œLong enough. This bug was customized for Bicamerals. We’ve got more time.” Moore frowned. “You don’t engineer something like that in the field, not overnight. They’ve been planning this awhile.”
    â€œThey didn’t even fire a warning shot, for fucksake! They didn’t even try to negotiate!”
    â€œThey’re scared.”
    â€œ They’re scared.”
    â€œThey’d assume that giving us any advance warning would put them at an unacceptable disadvantage. They don’t know what we’re capable of.”
    â€œThen maybe it’s time we showed them.”
    Moore turned back to face the