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Chapter XLVI

“So, let me get this straight,” said the technician, wiping a grubby, oil-stained sleeve across her brow. “You want us to let you into the control room. You want us to activate the over-pressure release command, while simultaneously shutting main valves B, C and E. Then, and this is the part that I really want to be clear about, you’re ordering us to stand back while the reactor overheats, melts down and carries the station down with it. Have I understood what you’re saying completely?”

“Crazy orders, huh?” Col. Chapmann said, winningly.

“There’s crazy and then there’s just plain insane. Who wants this done?”

“The Command Director of the Anti-Cerebrists.”

“He wouldn’t be able to get this past the executive committee. Who else?”

“Sanislov Jarowski, Manuut Noruto, and Kethlen Von Delt.”

“You’re just rattling off names.”

“They’re the right names.”

A voice came from further in the rattling clamor of the engine room. “Karla, does he have a work order?”

Karla turned around. “He has two, one for each step.”

The other technician barked out something obscene and resumed work behind a curtain of steam.

“Okay, let’s get it done.”

Col. Chapmann gestured to gaunt, haggard looking man escorted by two brain jobs.

“This is Agent Spaceman, he’ll be supervising the rest of the exercise.” Karla gave the agent a quick appraisal and gestured for them to follow. The four of them descended the long, narrow series of stairs leading to an observation room suspended far above the reactor. The water tank, used to trap and contain excess neutrons, glowed an unhealthy blue-green. The Spaceman appeared happy to put as much distance between the window and himself as he could.

There wasn’t much room in the control room for anything besides a long bank of dials and meters. All of the needles hovered within their expected ranges. She moved to a small gray box mounted on the far wall. A key, produced from her blue jumpsuit’s hip pocket, opened the box, revealing four toggles and one master switch. She was about to flip the requested switches when the gaunt man, who Chapmann had named ‘Spaceman,’ cleared his throat.

“Yes,” Karla looked almost amused.

“I’m just curious,” this Spaceman said. “I came in here with two work orders and a set of instructions that you yourself recognize means the destruction of this station.”

“That’s how I see it, yes.”

“And yet, you are all set to throw the switch.”

Karla betrayed no emotion. “That’s right.”


She removed her hands from the box. “Then this was a test, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but I’m troubled you had such little doubt following my set of instructions.”

“Spaceman, I’ve been here two years. I was supposed to be here three months. In that period of time I’ve had plenty of opportunities to doubt the orders, directives, missives, manifestoes, and direct commands I receive every day. I have barely enough funding to make this reactor functional and not enough staff to keep up with a tenth of the repairs. To be honest, blowing this place up seems like the best idea I’ve heard in months.”

“Why not leave?”

“Great question, why don’t I leave?” Karla said something Espanola that Spaceman wasn’t meant to catch: “Why do I talk to people that could get me lined up against some wall and shot? Why do I spend everyday wearing myself out trying to keep this place afloat?” then, returning to Russian: “Why do I do any of what I do? Here’s a question, for you? If this is a test and I’ve obviously failed, why not get on with it?”

“Who said that you failed the test?”

“I don’t know how much more bullshit I can take right now.”

“Can you get out of here? Do you have a way to evacuate the station?”

“There are plans somewhere, why do you ask?”

“I need you to pull those switches.”

Karla looked at him a long time, then, just as she said she would, she flipped the override commands and locked the required valves. Karla closed the lid to the command box, her heart pounding. She was about to open her mouth to say something to the agent, but he had already vanished with his escorts. Well, that was it then. She had used her keys and had turned the switches with her own hands. Two years she had exhausted herself trying to prevent this exact moment only to be instrument of its destruction.

The first of the alarms were starting, her crew wouldn’t have much time to escape. She had better warn them.

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Chapter I

When the light came back on, the room was empty save for a corpse and two baffled agents of Section Starfire, the premier Anarchist Spy Agency employed by the United States government.

Two trained pairs of eyes quickly scanned the room and found it devoid of anything worth mentioning besides an old battle-scarred table along one wall and a book shelf against the other and, of course, the body of the man Spaceman had just shot. For his part, Marcus Delacroix, Agent Shield, stood across the room from him, blinking in the sudden light, unable to focus. On the table by his right hand was a squat metal object about the same color and shape as a wheel of cheddar cheese. Instantly recognizing this object, Spaceman allowed himself a rare moment of panic.

Pushing past Marcus, Space dashed to the door and tried the handle. Inevitably, it was locked.

“Do you know what this is?” said Marcus, slowly regaining his faculties.

“Yes,” said Spaceman as he darted to the b…

Chapter LIX

“Do not worry,” said Necropolis. He was sitting at one of the pews, his legs kicked up on the headrest in front of him. There was a hymn book flopped over one knee and Nikolas was smiling. “What we need to do is not complicated.”

“Are we talking about the ten-hour long ceremony with an entire freight car of exotic compounds and rare animal parts, and enough priests for a baseball game? That ceremony? The Gemini program seems somewhat less complicated.”

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“Then what are you talking about?”

“The ceremony is window-dressing. I need the priests and their descendants to keep this place sacred and unmolested, and they need something to believe in. We both get something.

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“I don’t buy that either.”

It was late in the day, and the change had begun for Necropolis. His face…

Chapter LXI

“Frankie, listen to me. You have to pull the trigger.”

Frankie was silent. The rifle rested at his shoulder, just like he had practiced. He had D sighted, the slender cross-hairs pointing to spot just over her right eye. There was a slight Eastern wind which would pull the rifle to the left. He made his calibrations and rested his finger on the trigger. Perhaps a dozen men who could make this shot. He was one of them.

“This is the way it has to be, Frankie,” Marcus said. Was that nerves in his voice, or genuine terror. “If she doesn’t die, then The Master will just go on. We get this one chance and that’s it.”

In the scope, D was going through a strange contortion. Her body shuddered and she threw her head backwards as she rose first to her feet and then straight up into the air, suspended a full foot above the ground. When he had her reacquired, she was looking right at him. This was impossible, but it was plainly and obviously true. The girl knew where they were.

“Why do we need to kill…