The Machinery of Light by David J. Williams

almost smiles at that, shakes her head.
    “Why did you join with Sinclair?”
    “You asked me that already.”
    “He’s going to eat you alive.”
    “He’ll choke if he tries that.”
    T he corvette veers and yaws, partially the result of the struggle for control within its systems, but also a function of the evasive maneuvers that Lynx is putting it through. But the colony ship is almost on them; Lynx reaches out, commandeering that ship’s emergency docking procedures. Hangar doors open on the colony ship as the corvette streaks into the outer hangars—plowing through into the inner hangars—
    T hey’re way out over ocean now, gaining height on a trajectory that will cross the coast of North America within the minute. Spencer feels himself shaken ever harder as the
Hammer
accelerates, spitting out incrementally larger bombs that send it streaking over the eastern Pacific. Directed energy is striking the hull from every direction, though it doesn’t stand much chance of getting through several layers of tungsten hull.
    “They can’t touch this,” says Sarmax.
    Not by a long shot. Spencer can see that the
Hammer
’s twin is keeping pace, a hundred klicks north and slightly higher. He zeroes in on it while Sarmax watches over his virtual shoulder.
    “We got a name on that thing?”
    “Righteous Fire-Dragon,”
says Spencer.
    “What kind of a name is
that?”
    “I’m guessing it sounds better in Chinese.”
    “Wonder if it’s exclusively theirs.”
    “Probably divvied up the same as this one.”
    “Doesn’t matter as long as they get to beat up on the Yanks.”
    “Speaking of—”
    Sarmax nods. The coast of California sweeps toward them.
    T wo people in a room that comprises their whole ship. There’s so much history between them it threatens to swamp the here and now. But that just seems to amuse Carson. Which pisses off Haskell even more. Especially when they’re talking about the one man who no one’s seen for far too long.
    “Sinclair had me train you for a reason,” says Carson.
    “Did he arrange for you to fuck me too?”
    “Who’s to say I can’t have ideas of my own?”
    “Don’t start that again,” she snaps. “I was in
love
with Jason.”
    “Only because you could no longer have me.”
    Haskell turns to look back out the window. Congreve’s filling most of it now. Most of the dome’s dark. But lights blink throughout the spaceport that sits atop it. She turns back toward Carson.
    “If I wanted you, it was only because I was rigged that way.”
    “But what about now?”
    “Why does it matter?”
    “For me, it was the only thing that did.”
    “You are
such
a fucking liar.”
    He looks at her for a moment like she’s never seen him look. “That’d make all this a lot easier.”
    “You’re even more cold-blooded than Sinclair.”
    “Not so cold as to not see that we’re two of a kind.”
    “You and Sinclair?”
    “You and me.”
    “Give me a
break.”
    “Already did.”
    “What?”
    “I trained you for ten years. Watched you grow up. C’mon, Claire. How could I
not
have fallen for you just a little along the way?”
    “This is bullshit.”
    “Fine. It’s bullshit.”
    “You murdered Andrew Harrison.”
    “I’ve murdered a lot of people.”
    She raises an eyebrow. He laughs, but it’s not really laughter. “And I had to make it look like I was being played by Montrose. Had to say what she needed to hear.”
    “You were about to deliver me into her hands.”
    “I was going to break you out later.”
    “That is
so
much shit.”
    “Is it? How can I afford to let anyone else possess—”
    “Exactly. That word.”
    “I didn’t mean it.”
    “You’ve fucking injected me with a paralyzing—”
    “It’s worn off.”
    “What?”
    “Try it.”
    And she does. She’s moving. In the zone as well: the shackles are starting to fall from her mind. She runs sequences as Carson brings the craft down toward a landing.
    “I could crush you now,” she