While this confrontation boiled impotently, the AI remained aloof. It was not part of any emotional contest. With infinite patience and calm it awaited any further resolution from the Council while maintaining its vigil on the progress of the munitions heading toward one of its own. Though the argument raged on, the vote was over and the AI was not interested in or capable of mourning the impending loss of a quarter of its very self. Instead it focused on what preparations it could make for the now inevitable amputation. It attempted to back up some measure of the swathes of data stored in the doomed hub; the behemoth hammers of its huge subspace tweeters thundering across the subspace void with exabytes and zettabytes of data, like the drums of the satellite’s death knell.

In front of the orbiting satellite’s path, the six missiles hove up into range from the south as the thirty-two flaming fires of the Russian Gorgon missiles came in from the north, coming together like the hands of a giant, to collide in the most thunderous clap the world had ever felt.

As the final seconds ticked down, the Agents fell silent and watched the images coming from the satellite in disbelief. Lana’s avatar was suddenly mute and unmoving. Its emotions essentially disconnected from the conference, leaving the remaining Agents to watch in silence.

John smiled inside himself. Well done, Shahim, he thought, you have proven yourself beyond any possible doubt. You have given these people a chance, and may have saved more innocent souls than we can imagine.

Many miles below, deep in a bunker in the smoldering army base in Peshawar, the Agent once known as Shahim Al Khazar lay, dressed in the uniform of a dead Pakistani soldier, waiting, unmoving, as the Pakistani army arrived and began to clean up the destruction he had wrought. So many dead, he thought.

Though Shahim was not talking to the satellites himself, he was still receiving the images they were broadcasting to the other Agents. He had seen John vote against allowing the satellite to defend itself, and even now he watched as the orbiting platform soared inextricably into the trap they had set. In a moment, he hoped, the world would reap some small reward for the death he had brought to this unsuspecting place.

Lana and John’s avatars locked eyes one last time. She looked like she was still contemplating attacking him and John wished it was that easy, he would love nothing more than to fight her. To rip her limb from limb. But they were, in reality, thousands of miles apart. She would have to wait, she thought.