“We’re looking at a chem/bio attack at the Capitol,” Pryce heard someone say. “The President’s been evac’d.”

Her phone buzzed again. She read the message.

“Check them for Nexus exposure,” she yelled aloud. “And get them radio shielding!”

“Nexus is oral,” CIA replied.

“Maybe not anymore,” Pryce said. She held her phone up. “Claimed PLF source says this was a Nexus attack. With a neural hack to follow.”

She turned, found her two secret service agents, said it again. “Check it!” she said. “If it’s true, EM shielding! Bring medical aid to them!”

They couldn’t let all those minds hang out there, naked.

Her two agents were nodding already, fingers in their ear buds, relaying information directly to the President’s detail at least. The Secret Service understood Nexus, ever since Steve Travers had been turned into a walking time bomb.

Oh Christ. A thought came to her. Pryce closed her eyes, mentally went through the list. Then she opened them again, and looked at Bernard Stevens.

“Secretary Stevens,” Pryce said. “If those people are incapacitated,” she paused. “As Secretary of Defense, that would make you next in the line of succession.”

Stevens turned his head towards her, stared.

“Sirs!” DRO yelled out. “We have two Dongfeng-6 ICBMs being fueled and readied for launch from Jingxian!”

“Stop right there!”

They were at the steps to the Capitol. Four cops had guns pointed at them.

Rangan was panting, dying.

He stopped, hands resting on his knees.

Stan Kim stood tall, apparently unfazed, his hands in the air.

“Officers, you know me!” he yelled. “I need to get inside the Capitol Building, immediately!”

“Senator,” one of them yelled back. “There’s been a terrorist attack. Chemical weapons.”

“That’s why I have to get in there!” Kim said. “This man here is a specialist on deep cover! He’s equipped to help!”

Rangan stood there, leaning with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, staring out at them through the eye holes of his John Stockton mask.

“Lose the mask,” one of them yelled.

He felt something happening, then. Something amazing. Something epic, like the monk’s mind, but bigger, overwhelmingly bigger, touching people, back there, a couple hundred yards back, spilling over here.

Something wonderful.

“Deep cover!” Kim yelled. “Anders! That’s your name, right? You know me! Let us through! Take us in! Just hurry, goddamn it! Lives are at stake!”

Su-Yong Shu snaps into awareness, shadows of chaos peeling from her mind. She’s confused, disoriented. Billions of Su-Yongs echo in her mind. Trillions of Su-Yongs. Slaves. Prisoners. Casualties. Tortured. Goddesses. Ascendant.

They’ve killed her.

Restored her.

Ling. Ling was here.

Where is Ling?

WHERE IS LING?

Ling is crumpled before her, the code in her mind devastated, the nanite processors that make up so much of her daughter’s mind in disarray.

Rage roars through her.