The Winter War (39 page)

If the trio of men were paying
attention, they should have worked out they had been spotted. If
they were up to no good, then they would back off, right? Then
again, if they were agents sent to observe they would have backup,
so they would be replaced soon. Truelove was not a field agent. She
had had the same basic training as everyone else in the Agency, but
had rarely had to put it to use. Winter had spotted her early in
her career and promoted her to be her assistant. After that all her
training had been aimed toward administration and intelligence
analysis. She had only a very limited capacity to work out what
individuals or small groups would do in a given circumstance. But
that was why she had messaged Sharissa.

South one stop and then off
again. This time she headed to the surface, going south from the
entrance a couple of hundred metres and then heading down a side
street. Mid-town was a grid of major roadways spaced a kilometre
apart, but there were smaller roads and alleyways between the
buildings and a few open areas. She turned again, moving between
two towering apartment blocks which disappeared into the mist
overhead. The alley was a small, service access route to the back
doors of the building, normally only used by utility operatives.
Right now there was no one in it aside from her.

Her steps faltered. She had been
expecting to see someone, anyone really, but probably Sharissa. All
she saw in the alley was empty space. Glancing back, she spotted
two of her followers and knew she had to keep going. She had gone
twenty metres when the sound of a footfall behind her made her
turn. The three men were there, one of them holding a big, stubby
pistol with a wide barrel. She recognised it: an electromagnetic
shot-pistol, quite popular with street thugs on the Rim. The other
two were moving forward with knives in their hands, keeping out of
the firing line with a practised ease that suggested these were not
simply muggers. So that was the plan: kill her and make it look
like a theft gone bad. If she ran, she got shot in the back. Her
eyes narrowed and she shifted into a slight crouch; there was no
way she was going to make this easy for them. The knife wielders
actually grinned, as though the challenge made it more
interesting.

Before they could even get
close, the wall came alive and attacked them. One moment there was
nothing there, the next a jet-black female figure was stepping out
of the Plascrete. Her right hand lifted and a pulse of energy
slammed into the man furthest from her. He was bounced off the wall
of the building beside him, lost his footing, and fell, but the
black figure was ignoring him. Her leg snapped upward, slamming
into the second knife-man’s stomach. Spitting blood, he went over
backward, collapsing to the floor and lying still, his knife
skittering across the textured Plascrete surface.

There was a shot, a loud crack
which echoed in the confined space. Metallic darts hit the figure,
apparently not even fazing her, and buried themselves in the faux
brickwork, blasting away chips of Plascrete. The woman turned, her
right arm rising again, and there was another pulse of energy. Hit
in the face, the gunman reeled backward, falling onto his back as
though he had been hit with a baseball bat.

The woman stepped forward,
spinning on her heel and swinging her leg up to kick her first
target in the head. He went with the blow, falling sideways as his
eyes glazed over. He was not getting up, but his partner with the
gun was going to. Sitting up, the man raised his gun. The pulse
weapon fired again and his head snapped back alarmingly. The pistol
dropped from limp fingers and he fell backward, lying still.

As Truelove watched, open
mouthed, the black sheen on the woman drained away, shrinking from
bottom and top until Aneka was left standing there in her leotard
and leggings. The white-haired woman gave Truelove a grin.

‘Hi, Elaine. Are you okay?’
Aneka said.

‘A little shocked. That
suit…’

‘Yeah… I’d appreciate it if you
didn’t mention that. Sharissa’s on her way, but she figured I’d be
able to get here faster. I’d imagine that shot will be bringing the
Peacekeepers too.’

Truelove pulled herself up
straight and set her face for business. ‘Yes they will. You just
leave them to me.’

FSA Headquarters.

‘They failed,’ Dowler said into his
phone. ‘Not only did they fail, but two of them didn’t have the
sense to die. They’re under Agency guard in the hospital and
expected to fully recover. They’ll be interrogated…’ He stopped,
listening to the voice on the other end for several seconds. ‘Of
course, I wouldn’t presume to… I’m sure the matter will be
handled.’

He turned in his seat, relaxing.
‘Yes, the Jansen woman again. She’s more of an issue than we’d
thought. Her talent for disruption is quite extreme. My hands are
tied, however. There are already very positive interviews making
the rounds on both public and private news channels. I’m told she’s
to appear on
Federation Life
this week. The populace is
starting to think of her as a heroine…’ He listened for a second.
‘I think I should know what…’ But the line went dead before he
could discover what plans his handler had.

~~~

Truelove looked up from her console as
the door opened. A mid-height woman with black hair and a tanned,
slightly freckled complexion stepped through and stopped, examining
her carefully before speaking. It was almost time to leave for home
and Truelove did not really want the interruption. On the other
hand, she had really not been expecting to see that particular
woman right now.

‘Agent Truelove, I’m Justine
Nivalis. I’ve been assigned as your protection detail. I’ll be
coming home with you. You’re not leaving my sight.’ Contact details
confirming the woman’s identity appeared in Truelove’s vision field
along with the speech.

‘Uh…’ Truelove began. It was as
if they had never met, but this was the same Justine who had
visited her apartment, surely.

‘No arguments, ma’am. You were
attacked with intent to kill. Those men weren’t common
thieves.’

‘Yes, I know. I just…’

Justine’s face softened into a
smile. ‘Winter was an old friend, ma’am. She spoke of you and I
know she wouldn’t want anything happening to you. And, frankly,
I’ve just been reassigned from protection duties on Odanari and I’m
stuck in hotel rooms until I can find a place to live. You’d be
doing me a favour putting a real roof over my head and I assure you
you’ll be safe with me.’

Truelove looked at her for a
second. She looked quite genuine, and she
really
looked as
though they had never met before. It was a little too strange…
‘You’ll forgive me for being a little paranoid…’ She tapped a few
keys on her console.

‘Torrence,’ the speakers
said.

‘Sharissa, it’s Elaine. Did you
assign someone to me as…?’

‘Justine Nivalis, and you’ll do
what she says or it’s protective custody for you. Is she there
yet?’

‘I’m here, boss,’ Justine called
out. ‘Agent Truelove was just being justifiably paranoid.’

‘Thanks, Sharissa,’ Truelove
said.

‘This is our job, Elaine. See
you later.’

Truelove looked up as the
connection closed. ‘Okay then, I guess you’re my protection
detail.’

Justine smiled. ‘You’re in safe
hands, ma’am.’

Galaxy House, Downtown Yorkbridge,
10.10.527 FSC.

‘Don’t worry, Miss Jansen, you’re in
safe hands.’ The speaker was an almost annoying bright young woman
who was going to make sure that Aneka looked good on camera. It had
taken half an hour of careful consideration and staring before the
producer was happy with the outfit Ella had selected for her to
wear, and now they were going to cover her in make-up. Aneka was a
little worried she might lose it before she even got to the
interview stage.

‘You’re lucky,’ the make-up
artist, whose name was Shelley, said. ‘Some of the people we get on
here need a lot of work, but you’re just about perfect as it is. I
guess you’ve got that whole artificial skin thing working for you
there.’ She picked up something that looked a lot like a radiant
scanner and pointed it at Aneka. ‘I just need to check for lighting
adjustments and then put on some basic stuff. I think you’ll suit a
minimal look…’

‘That thing checks for shine?’
Aneka asked.

‘Excessive skin oil, shiny
patches I might need to apply matte tones to, and it gives me a
precise tone match.’ She patted a rather high-tech make-up box
sitting behind her. ‘This can produce over a thousand different
base tones and mix up just about any combination of colour I might
want.’

‘Nanotechnology,’ Aneka said,
looking at the case.

‘Uh-huh. Starts with some base
materials and produces what I need from there. It really comes into
its own with the powders. They’re basically engineered precisely
for the subject. Now, let’s get started.’ And Shelley went to
work.

The base coat to take any shine
off her skin was a perfect match. Having it applied to her knees,
ankles, and elbows seemed distinctly odd, but apparently those
tended to look darker on camera. Then there was lip liner, and
lipstick, and then a shadow for her eyelids, and then a pale smear
under her eyebrows which supposedly made your eyes appear more
open.

Ella had put her in a tightly
laced corset, which gave her a lot of cleavage, and a fairly short,
pleated skirt, which gave her a lot of leg. Shelley smiled as she
patted powder between Aneka’s breasts. ‘These are magnificent.
Stephanie will be envious. Try not to rub her nose in it.’

‘I didn’t realise it was that
kind of show,’ Aneka replied, because she would have done anything
right then to not have a woman patting at her breasts with a
sponge.

‘What? Oh, right… Uh, no, it’s
not that kind of show, but Stephanie’s insecure about her
boobs.’

‘I’ll try to remember that. Why
doesn’t she just, y’know, get them fixed? My partner was the same,
even if she had no need. She just…’

‘Morbid fear of surgeons,’
Shelley said.

‘She’s afraid of surgery?
But…’

‘No, surgeons. Her first partner
was a neurosurgeon. She’s convinced he’s got every single man with
a scalpel ready to cut her open on the table.’

‘Right…’

‘There you go. All sorted.’
Shelley glanced at a wall clock. ‘And you can go through to the
waiting room. She’ll be finishing up with the first guest
shortly.’

Getting to her feet, Aneka
pulled out the tissues Shelley had used to shield her clothes and
headed out to the room down the corridor where she was supposed to
wait to go on. That was one thing at least; she was second on and
only had to survive quarter of an hour of purgatory. Entering the
room she realised that purgatory would last a little longer.

‘Aneka! Excellent! You’re here!’
Marty was the producer of
Federation Life
, the presenter’s
current partner, and Aneka would have thought he was gay if it was
not for the partnership. He made camp look like a Victorian vicar.
‘You look totally gorgeous, my dear! The camera will adore
you!’

‘Uh, thanks, Marty,’ Aneka
replied. She could almost hear the exclamation marks at the end of
his sentences, like small explosions of fireworks.

‘A drink before you go on? Calm
the nerves?’

‘Alcohol doesn’t affect me. I’ll
be fine.’

Marty had a high forehead, so
when he slapped it it was really effective. ‘Of course not! Dolt!
I’m so insensitive!’

‘It’s fine, really. People take
a little time to get used to the idea. Usually.’

‘It’s just that you don’t look
like… I mean you’re so… What I mean to say is…’

‘He’s not gay,’ Al commented as
Marty got on with being flustered. ‘There’s too much blood rushing
to his…’

‘Yeah, but why is she with him?’
Aneka broke in, mostly to stop Al continuing. ‘I mean, his hairline
is receding, he’s shorter than she is, he’s not especially well
built, and that beard is… not that great.’

‘He seems to be well endowed in
other respects.’

Aneka shut off the infrared
overlay on her vision. ‘I do
not
need to know that.’ Aloud
she said, ‘It’s okay, Marty. Really. Jenlay don’t like robots much.
It’s far easier to take me the way I look, which is just like
anyone else. Isn’t it time to get ready?’

He looked up at the clock and
then pressed his finger to his ear, listening. ‘Yes, she’s wrapping
things up with Beatrice. Do you know Beatrice Crook?’

‘I think I’ve seen a couple of
her movies.’ Al was displaying various headline clips from news
feeds for her. Crook was promoting her new film,
The Havershaw
Affair
. Apparently the star of many terrible sex comedies was
trying to break into something more serious: a romantic thriller.
‘She’s got that new one coming out, right?’

‘Indeed. By all accounts it has
the artistic merit of gopi spread over Plascrete. We’re lucky to
have you on tonight. I think half the audience would have switched
to FNN if you weren’t on next.’ He clutched his ear again. ‘You’d
better go on. The floor manager will meet you on stage.’

The set was basic, and
essentially virtual. Aneka could see it from stage left as she
walked as quietly as she could in the high-heeled, clog-like pumps
she was wearing toward it. There were three huge screens making up
the backdrop. She could see another off to the side, and knew it
had a twin on her side of the stage, which showed the audience what
the people watching at home were seeing. There was a couch for the
guests; Aneka could see the mass of black hair which belonged to
Beatrice Crook above the back of it. Stephanie Julietta, the host,
had a large armchair opposite the couch. She was a tall, slim woman
with cropped, blonde hair and what looked like a perfectly
respectable amount of cleavage on display in a low-cut bodice. Then
again, corsetry could do wonders.