to be used that way. I know we wouldn’t be as efficient as the AI.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Extremely, extremely mildly.”
“So we understand each other,” Jackson said. “This is a card we shouldn’t play except as a last resort. Nevertheless, it’s one I want to hold. So make it ready.”
He took a breath. “Please promise me you won’t use this unless we absolutely have to.”
“I’ll do you one better. I won’t use it unless you say so.”
He wasn’t sure whether to believe that. It felt like something she might say now and retract later. But it did make him feel a little better.
“Yes?” Jackson said.
“All right.”
She picked up her steel cup and took a sip. “Well then,” she said. “Sounds like progress.”
* * *
—
He’d almost given up when it happened. He was in the can. The klaxon sounded. The walls glowed orange. He bolted upright and took a step before realizing his pants were around his ankles. Before he reached the ladder, Anders was reporting in over comms. “Weapons checking in.” He must have been camped outside.
Jackson: “Roger that. On my way to command, give me thirty seconds.”
“Is it another drill?”
“You see those orange lights? That’s how you know it’s not a drill.”
Gilly popped the hatch to D Deck. “Almost at station.”
“Life, how far?”
“I’m here.”
“Check in, please. Let’s do this by the book.”
“Life, checking in. All systems normal. We have good O2, good pressure, good thermals.”
“Thank you, Life.”
Gilly strapped into his harness and brought up his board. “Intel, checking in. All systems online and functional.”
“Copy that, Intel.”
Anders: “What are we up against?”
“Give me a moment. I’m reaching station. Command . . . checking in. I’m seeing green-to-green. Sensors up. Armor up. Weapons up.”
“Hostiles?”
“Stand by.”
“How many?”
“Weapons, I will brief you when I have information you need, you understand? We have a six-pack of hives and they’re expelling. Nine hundred total so far. Contact in forty seconds.”
Gilly skimmed his fingers across his board. Not touching anything, just defining his area. He had the cores on permanent overlay so he’d know immediately if any of them flickered. Somewhere in that solid green rectangle was core bank 996, which he still didn’t trust.
Beanfield: “These are regular hives?”
“Looks that way to me. Verify, Intel.”
“Regular hives. No bombs.”
“Batteries one through twenty-eight relocating to fore,” Anders said. “That’s a lot of fucking lasers. There’s no way to put a few of those on manual?”
“Negative,” Gilly said.
“If we lose cores again—”
“Everything’s green, Anders.”
“Let me know the second anything gets even a little funky,” Jackson said.
“Roger that.”
“You have the kill switch prepared?”
“It’s ready.”
“Because if we need it, I don’t want to suddenly discover there’s an ‘Are you sure?’ or a sixty-second timer or any of that bullshit.”
“It’s ready to go,” he said. “But I want to stress again, using it will kill us all.”
“Just want it in the back pocket, Intel,” Jackson said. She counted down to contact: twenty seconds, ten. On Gilly’s board, the pulse system juddered.
Anders: “Firing. Firing.”
Jackson: “Seeing that.”
“No hits. Hostiles turned. They anticipated the pulse. Now again. Coming back at us. Count me down, Weapons.”
“Pulse ready in ten seconds.”
Gilly: “What’s that I’m seeing at range?”
Jackson: “It’s . . .”
“Looks like a hive bomb.”
“It’s . . . yes. Seventh hive, not expelling, no soldiers. Initial composition profile resembles the bomb. Contact in ninety seconds. Should be safe to pulse until then. Intel, verify, please.”
“Already on it.”
“Total hostile numbers at twenty-two thousand.”
Beanfield: “Twenty-two thousand?”
“Pulsing,” said Anders.
Twenty-two thousand, Gilly thought. That would make it the largest engagement of the war.