Free The Burning Skies by David J. Williams

Throne has been successful in confining any infiltration to the cylinder.”
    “The Rain might just nuke that asteroid.”
    “And that asteroid could probably take it. Besides, it’s not enough to just obliterate the Throne. The executive node switches in that eventuality.”
    “How the fuck do you know
that?”
asks Linehan.
    “I’ve no idea.”
    “That makes me nervous.”
    “Yeah,” says Spencer. “Me, too.”
    “You could be the Rain.”
    “We both might be.”
    “Christ, this is fucked up,” says Linehan.
    “I noticed.”
    “So what else do you know about the executive node?”
    “That it’s transferred to the president’s successor in the event of his physical destruction.”
    “And who’s the successor?”
    “I’d guess Montrose.”
    “I’d guess that too. And I’m thinking she’s nowhere near here.”
    “Not much is.”
    “Which is why the Throne picked this place,” says Linehan. “L3’s out of sight of the Moon and all the infrastructure around it. Only about twenty percent of our strategic weaponry has the angle and range, and—”
    “Right. More than enough backup to bail the presidentout of whatever goes down here at the same time minimizing the assets he has to keep track of. This dump’s perfect.”
    “I wouldn’t go
that
far.”
    “Best among some shit options?”
    “The logic’s clear enough,” says Linehan. “The two leaderships have to be in direct contact. But they had to pick neutral territory since neither leadership is about to send its executive node into the other’s terrain. And it has to be in space, because this way they can control every last approach. And then, when the Rain moves in, they can hit them in that cylinder from all sides, with overwhelming force.”
    And emerge and declare that they’ve destroyed the Rain and forged a new treaty while they were at it—a second Zurich to divide the world anew.” Spencer shakes his head. “They can absorb what’s left of the neutrals and then get on with whatever the fuck they like.”
    But now something’s happening on that nearer asteroid. Nothing that’s visible physically. In space the Aerie remains the same as it’s been this whole time: partially occluded by that cylinder, partially glinting in the sun, a metal-studded rock that keeps its own counsel.
    In the zone, though, it’s a different story. Something’s happening on the asteroid’s firewall. On the part of the sphere that’s blocked by the cylinder.
    “On the rock,” says Spencer.
    “Yeah?”
    “A door’s opening.”
    T hey’re going lights out and hell for leather. No zone presence now, and they’re hoping nothing can see them on board the special train of the Euro Magnates. They’ve traveled three levels up—into a corridor that isn’t supposed to exist—through a door and into thetransit-tube where the train was sitting. No sooner were they aboard than it took off at full speed—back toward the city-end of the cylinder. Sarmax is keeping an eye on Lynx, whose armor’s sensors and weaponry have been deactivated. The Operative’s keeping an eye on Haskell. Both men keep an eye on everything else as well. As far as they know, this train’s empty. But there are nine other cars beside theirs. And they’re not about to make any assumptions.
    “So where exactly are we going?” asks Haskell.
    T he basements of New London,” replies Carson.
    “For the greater glory of the Rain,” says Lynx. “Shut up,” snarls Sarmax, but Lynx just laughs. And keeps on talking. “Can’t you think for yourself, Leo? Don’t you see what’s happening? Carson and this—this
thing
here—have got this all worked out. We’re heading straight into the hands of Rain.”
    “I don’t think so,” says Sarmax.
    “How do you fucking know?”
    “Enough with the mind games,” snaps Carson. “The Rain could be on us any moment. Here’s how it’s going to work. In about ten seconds, this train is going to stop. When it does, Lynx is on