Doctor Who_ Transit - Ben Aaronovitch [37]
Most of the music came from the President who led a choir of speakers near the back wall supplemented by a couple of free standing stacks. The backbeat came on solid like a heartbeat but the melody was freeform brainwave stuff. Some of the speakers were clicking their fingers but the sound was lost over their own output. Food was stacked on linen-covered trestle tables around the other walls and the centre was cleared for dancing.
There were whoops and catcalls as Mariko's krewe entered. One speaker feeding at a table turned and blew a fanfare, splattering everyone nearby with chocolate cake. Mariko grinned and did a deliberate strut on to the dancefloor; Naran of course went straight for the food. Most of the dancers were razvedka with spiky carapaces and killing spurs on their wrists. Subcontractors didn't dance, they stood around in tight little groups talking about machinery while the manipulators imbedded in their chests twitched reflexively to the music. There were even a couple of reps mixing with the crowd around the food tables. They were easy to spot since they kept their original appearance. The rest of the reps would be out on jobs.
All three razvedka krewes were in attendance. Mariko waited in the centre of the dancefloor until the other two krewebosses had gathered around her.
'This party is symbolic,' said 2Boss, a male that seemed to have been stitched together from leftover body bits.
'Good to kick back after work,' said 3Boss, a diminutive female with a fetching crest of spines running over her scalp and down her back.
'Like the spines,' said Mariko.
3Boss grinned, showing sharpened teeth.
'We've all done sweeps of the Pluto environs,' said Mariko. 'Anything moving?'
'Just normal traffic,' said 3Boss.
'We're dealing with a reactive network here. It's big but slow and it's bound to have defensive systems closer to the core. Now we've got a rep stirring the pot at this end.'
'Doing what?' asked 2Boss.
'We don't need to know, but remember the whole system is more complex than previous ones. There's bound to be proactive elements on other reality levels that we're not aware of, so look sharp.'
'What's next?' asked 2Boss.
'Don't know,' said Mariko. 'We party till we get told different.' Naran wandered up to them, tongue buried in a catering-size tub of vanilla icecream. The pink flesh of the proboscis rippled as he sucked.
'I didn't know you could do that,' said Mariko.
3Boss was gazing speculatively at Naran. 'Can I borrow him sometime?'
A door opened in Mariko's mind and abruptly it was full of information. She looked at the others. 2Boss and 3Boss were staring at her intently. They knew. Naran was oblivious, happily finishing off the dregs in the bottom of the tub.
Boss-level data then.
'Prediction,' said Mariko. 'Probe coming up the Central Line - minimum response.' She looked over the crowd of dancers, and caught the President's eye. He nodded.
3Boss started hopping up and down. 'I want to go.'
Mariko tested the idea in her mind, it felt right. 'Go,' she told 3Boss.
2Boss watched sourly as 3Boss collected her krewe and headed out of the cavern. 'Some people have all the fun,' he said, so Naran sprayed him with icecream.
Central Line
The turbines at the back made a subsonic rumble that vibrated in Blondie's chest cavity. There were no sockets for human interface in the cab; everything was manual. Dogface had plastered masking tape with handwritten labels over the original pictograms. Some of them were jokes - a big central lever was marked go faster knob. Sensor terminals bolted on to the bulkhead, whistled and clicked every time they hit a tunnel The stations were confused patches of white light as they howled through them. A noisebox under Lambada's seat was putting out two hundred watts of a Rio-based salsa thrash band called Mea Culpa. The lead singer gave damnation