Doctor Who_ Transit - Ben Aaronovitch [9]
She reared out of the water, braids flying around her face, droplets flying off to crater the lake around her. She stood waist deep, the sun on her back, and flexed her shoulders. A pair of ochre-coloured swans cruised past with microtags pinned into their long necks, and she laughed and flicked her hair at them. The swans merely changed direction and disdainfully swam round her.
Blondie, she thought. What kind of a name was that? She climbed out of the lake and french-braided her extensions as she walked back to her clothes. There'd been an intensity about his lovemaking, something close to anger in the way he'd clung to her afterwards. She found the rose caught in a fold of her jacket, it was a deep purple, so purple as to be almost black. He'd bought it from a vendor by the Shen Wu gate of the Forbidden City when they were watching the dragons twitching past to the snap and bang of fireworks. She'd let him tuck the rose behind her ear and they'd kissed for the first time, their lips tasting of tequila and gunpowder. She pulled his T-shirt on over her wet skin, tucked it into her leggings and pulled her belt tight around her waist. Carefully smoothing out its bruised petals she tucked the black rose back behind her ear and threw on her jacket. As she turned to go her hand slipped into her pocket to check her moneypen, a small defensive habit picked up on Luna.
Her moneypen was gone.
Acturus Terminal (Stunnel Terminus)
The PR executives were arguing with the security executives and the security executives were winning but only because they were armed. Judging from the number of security firms represented half the cabinet was going to attend the ceremony. Verhoevan could practically smell the power. The President's own security cliche, Viking Protection, were taking up positions around the finished podium. They were big grim Icelanders with dragonboat logos on their body armour, and people scrambled out of their way as they ran their checks.
Verhoevan was trying not to get his spotless coverall dirty as he made minute adjustments to the regulator. Behind the greasy shine of the gateway Lorenzo attractors were held in a precise pattern by a gravito-magnetic field. With just the carrier wave coming through they hardly moved, but once initiation started they would start to spin, drilling a hole through reality.
The KGB started ushering in the general public who'd been waiting in the unfinished galleria. A carefully selected ethnic and cultural cross section of the solar system drawn from Rent-a-Crowd's extensive books. A lot of the unemployed did Rent-a-Crowd work to supplement their welfare cheques but these looked like real professionals, ready to cheer their guts out on cue.
Twenty-six light years away, anchored deep in the bedrock of Acturus II, another set of attractors turned slowly, just enough to broadcast the carrier wave. Before the initiation could begin the attractors on Mars would have to be precisely tuned so that both sets turned in synergenic harmony. Verhoevan had initiated fifteen tunnels in his career, and not a single one had collapsed. If only the carrier wave would stop fluctuating on this one. He was sure it must be a function of the immense distance, like the gateway's colour, at least that's what he hoped it was.
'Got it,' he shouted as the regulator board went green. 'Tel! Ming we can start the final countdown any time she's ready.' He looked at his hands - they were shaking.
STS Central - Olympus Mons
Ming cowered behind the armchair as her father lurched towards her. In his hands was his broad leather belt which he snapped angrily as he advanced. Ming was choking on the cheap booze smell that issued from his gaping mouth. "No, Papa,' she whined as the beast loomed over her.
'Boss!'