Doctor Who_ Transit - Ben Aaronovitch [8]
'What podium?'
'The Presidential Podium, a bit of an honour for you really.'
Verhoevan realized that halfway down the station a podium was being assembled out of prefab teak blocks. 'You realize, of course,' said Verhoevan, 'that your podium is situated directly in line with the Stunnel gateway.'
'Is that a problem?'
Only if the train overshoots, thought Verhoevan.
'I'd hate to have to tell the President,' the man put some bite into his voice, 'that there was a problem.'
Verhoevan sighed and accepted the coverall. The PR executive gave him a halogen smile. 'I think you will find that it fits.'
After the man had gone Verhoevan turned to find his entire staff staring at him. 'I don't know what you're looking at,' he said, brandishing the coverall at them, 'you're all going to get one too.'
STS Central - Olympus Mons
By 10:15 GMT the second shift of controllers had taken over in the pit. These ones squinted blearily at their screens and tended to react badly to loud noises. Up in the duty office, Ming, who'd been awake for thirty-six hours, chewing zap for the last eight, was trying to stay awake by calculating her overtime. They were getting media and security feeds from Acturus Terminal. The media were still getting the best viewing angles, especially the Bad News Show. On the repeater screen the Sydney-Kyoto commuter line went dark. Ming touched her pin mike. 'What happened to TransCancer Three?' The zap side effects made her own voice echo uncomfortably inside her head.
'Sorry, Boss,' said the sector manager, 'wrong switch. Do you want us to put it back up?'
'Just one in three,' said Ming, who didn't like the Japanese, or Australians for that matter, and wasn't going to do them any favours. She started to search through the pile of empty Kwik-Kurry cartons on her desk, somewhere underneath was another packet of zap. Or had she swallowed them already?
'Big increase in VIP shuttle activity,' said a voice.
'Destinations?'
'Acturus Terminal.'
'That's the security detachments moving in,' said Ming. 'Where's Murphy One?' Murphy One was the President's private train.
'Still at Reykjavik.'
Ming glanced at her terminal, available power reserves were now 53 per cent, customer complaints were topping a billion.
Three and a half hours to go.
Beijing
Kadiatu woke up alone in Pei Hai Park. She lay still for a long moment, sprawled out on the yellow summer grass and watched the little mobile clouds watering the flowers. She closed her eyes and stretched, letting the grass prickle along her legs. When she sat up she wondered where her hangover had gone. The sun was rising, a pale gold light that turned the ancient city walls a dusty orange. The White Pagoda cast a shadow through the mist rising from the lake. Apart from herself the park was deserted. Kadiatu stared at the lake for a moment and thought, why not? She'd pulled the T-shirt off over her head when she realised it wasn't hers. It was made from white German cotton and when she touched it to her face it smelt of blond hair and rose petals. Dropping the shirt on top of her jacket she ran down to the lakeside.
There'd been eight of them, riding a flat-top with some crazy idea about chasing midnight around the world. The Brazilian woman Lambada had been driving, sitting on the front, cowling and whooping each time they went through a station. Blondie whispered in her ear that Lambada could drive in that position because she had an interface fitted in her big toe. She remembered asking him how he came to know that. Dogface, the one with the designer-ugly face, had overheard and made obscene comments until Old Sam told him to stop. Kadiatu had been around her parents' friends long enough to know that Old Sam was a full combat model. It showed in the speed of his reflexes, in the way his pupils slotted in low light, and in his strength. She knew what had been in the package she'd delivered, the one that Old Sam slipped quietly into his coat and transferred twenty thousand into her moneypen for. Augmentation carried a price tag, a metabolic tradeoff. The old