The Winter War (41 page)

‘Kevin Greenwald wants you on
his show on the thirteenth,’ Elroy stated.

‘Oh,’ Ella said flatly.

‘It gets better,’ Elroy went on,
‘he’s planning to put you up alongside D’Jarnis.’

‘Who’s Kevin Greenwald?’ Aneka
asked as Al began displaying the data.

‘I don’t like his show,’ Ella
said. ‘He
loves
confrontation.’

‘He does enjoy embarrassing
questions,’ Ollander said, ‘and setting things up so that his
audience are expecting a fight. He still views one show where the
two contributors actually came to blows as one of his finest.
However, I don’t share my colleague’s concerns.’

‘Why not?’ Aneka asked. ‘Putting
me in a room with the Herosian Ambassador and a man who likes his
guests to argue seems like a bad idea.’

‘A lot of Jenlay are not very
fond of Herosians. It’s partially an irrational prejudice. They
look like lizards and it’s not appealing.’

‘It’s also because most of them
are acquisitive and arrogant,’ Ella growled.

‘That’s the more rational part,’
Ollander admitted. ‘All Aneka has to do is stay calm and acquit
herself well with whatever questions Greenwald throws at her and
the Jenlay audience will view her as the winner of the debate.’

‘Greenwald and D’Jarnis will try
their best to trip her up,’ Elroy said.

‘Greenwald will be doing that to
both of them, but Aneka has the advantage. Her mind works faster.
She can process his questions and act appropriately.’

‘Well, we can’t decline. It
would be seen as hiding something. I’m afraid you had best prepare
yourself for a rather less pleasant reception than you had on
Julietta’s show, Aneka.’

‘Right…’ Aneka replied, sagging
a little. ‘That should be great fun.’

Federal News Centre, Downtown
Yorkbridge, 13.10.527 FSC.

‘You’ll be fine.’ Ella’s voice was in
Aneka’s head, which was less reassuring than having her there in
the room. ‘You know you can do this. You can think faster than they
can, and you’ve got Al there to help.’

‘I believe that Ella is quite
correct,’ Al said. ‘The research I’ve done on Herosian psychology
suggests that the Ambassador has a number of buttons which can be
pushed if required.’

‘That’s a last resort. We don’t
provoke him,’ Aneka said.

‘You can count on Greenwald to
do that anyway,’ Ella said, her tone wry.

‘We need to get you on set.’ The
speaker was one of Greenwald’s assistants, a short, attractive
blonde. Aneka had seen his other three assistants and they were all
short, attractive, and blonde. That kind of thing always set
Aneka’s teeth on edge, but this one did appear competent and
business-like.

‘I’m on,’ Aneka said in her head
and then added, ‘Lead the way,’ out loud.

‘Talk later,’ Ella told her and
the connection was cut.

Aneka followed the girl out from
her dressing room and through a network of corridors to the stage.
The prep work had been significantly less than for her previous
foray into television. The make-up artist had looked her over and
declared that she would be fine. The producer had been nowhere to
be seen. Ella had considered her wardrobe and decided that
something new was needed, so they had shopped for something Aneka
never would have expected to see Ella looking for. Aneka was in a
knee-length, pencil skirt and jacket in silver-grey, and a sheer,
white blouse. Her heels were still ridiculously high, but that did
work well with the skirt.

The set was fairly similar to
the one on
Federation Life
, except that it featured two
sofas and a chair. The sofas were angled to face each other as much
as the audience and the chair sat between them as though Greenwald
were the judge in some sort of debating court. It was currently all
hidden behind a heavy, black curtain which separated the audience
from the stage.

D’Jarnis was already sitting on
one of the sofas. He was a slightly short Herosian and, as he had
been when Aneka first saw him, he was dressed in a black kilt.
Bands of silver edged with gold encircled his biceps. He had scaled
skin, a paler shade of brown across his stomach than on his back.
His arms and digitigrade legs showed solid muscle development, and
his fingers ended in thick, sharp claws. The face was brutish, but
that was primarily due to an overdeveloped jaw. His ears were
pointed and swept back, and his nose was barely more than a ridge
with nostrils at the end. He watched Aneka approach with his
golden-brown eyes, which held nothing but contempt.

Aneka smiled at him as she sat
down on the opposite couch and crossed her legs. ‘Ambassador. It’s
nice to see you again.’ Reading Herosian expressions was hard, but
she thought she got nothing but a sour look in reply. Why had the
man agreed to do this show?

‘The same reason you did,’ Al
supplied. ‘If you agreed and he did not it would be seen as an
indication that he was unwilling to face you.’

‘I agreed to this because I was
told to.’

‘Exactly.’

The sound of voices from the
rear of the stage drew Aneka’s attention to the team of people
swarming around one man, Kevin Greenwald. Someone was still
checking his make-up, two of his assistants were telling him about
briefing documents on his tablet, and someone Aneka took to be the
producer or floor manager was hurrying him to his chair.

The man himself was tall, slim,
with jet-black hair in a fashionable, short cut. He had a tan, and
the sort of presence you got from believing that everyone around
you was where they were because you allowed it. His show had been
the more serious talking heads programme on CFM until he had
decided to move it to the Federal News Network, a smaller, but more
focussed media organisation. In some ways they
were
all
there because of him.

‘Enough!’ Greenwald snapped. ‘We
have a show to do.’ He sat down in his chair, glancing at the
tablet he was being handed, and then at D’Jarnis and Aneka.
‘Ambassador, Miss Jansen, you both know each other, and me, so we
won’t bother with introductions. I hope you’re both ready because
we’re on in ten.’

The lights went down, plunging
them into darkness, not that it made a lot of difference to Aneka.
She watched D’Jarnis settling himself, trying to look casual.
Greenwald shifted slightly, leaning forward for a more intent
appearance. Through the curtain Aneka could see hazy heat
signatures. It looked like as big an audience as for
Federation
Life
, though this time Aneka had more support in it. Gillian
and Bashford were out there with Ella. Apparently Gillian actually
watched the show sometimes though Aneka was not entirely sure
why.

The curtain rolled aside three
seconds before they were due to go on air, and then a spotlight lit
up Greenwald. ‘Good evening. I’m Kevin Greenwald. Welcome to
Greenwald Tonight
.’ Applause, apparently genuine though
there were a few people standing there directing things. They cut
the clamour off after exactly six seconds, which was presumably how
long the title clip took to run.

‘Tonight we’re going to get to
the bottom of the big controversy hitting the news channels at the
moment,’ Greenwald continued. ‘Aneka Jansen, the woman heralded as
a survivor from Old Earth kept frozen for a thousand years, did
not, in fact, survive. The Herosians say that she is actually a
Xinti, except when they’re saying she’s an artificial intelligence.
Jenlay experts say she is not.’ The lights went up around them. ‘So
let’s ask Miss Jansen herself and the Herosian Ambassador Ashipha
D’Jarnis to explain their positions. Miss Jansen, are you a
Xinti?’

‘Philosophy isn’t my strong
point, Mister Greenwald,’ Aneka said. She did not need to think
about this one. ‘My physical form is patterned after a Human woman,
but the structures within and my brain are Xinti. The mind running
on that brain is that of a Human woman who did, indeed, die over a
thousand years ago. Is a Jenlay a Jenlay because of their body, or
their mind, or both? What is more important to the nature of a
Herosian? Culture, thought processes, or meat?’

‘No Herosian would willingly
undergo the process which turned you into a Xinti machine,’
D’Jarnis snapped.

‘Rather a stupid statement,’ Al
commented.

Aneka had to agree. ‘It wasn’t
as though I was given a choice, Ambassador.’

‘And it does not answer the
question,’ Greenwald said. He lifted his tablet. ‘I have a report
here compiled by several noted psychologists stating that Miss
Jansen’s mental functions are well within the range of Jenlay
norms. She has a “rationally based prejudice against the Xinti.”
The report is quite detailed and seems to indicate that whatever
Miss Jansen’s mind is living in, it is not a Xinti mind.’

‘Not Xinti, perhaps, but it is
an
artificial
mind,’ D’Jarnis countered. Aneka was always a
little disappointed that Herosians did not have more sibilant
voices when speaking Federal, but the emphasis he put on the word
did draw out the ‘sh’ sound nicely. ‘She is a piece of software
pretending to be a living thing.’

Maybe he was trying to get a
rise out of her, but it was a bad target to pick. ‘I won’t argue
that point. That’s pretty much what my opinion of myself is.’
D’Jarnis looked triumphant. ‘I’m told that that’s a minority
viewpoint, however. Not that my mind is software, because it is,
but that it’s artificial. Since my mind is basically a
neuron-by-neuron copy of a Human mind, it doesn’t operate in the
same way as an AI’s does. I’m a simulation of a real brain. If
you’re going to class that as artificial then you have to question
whether any mind is “natural.” The thoughts in your head are the
result of some complex electrochemical interactions in a complex,
organic computer. Mine don’t have the chemical components. What is
a thought? I’m afraid we’re back to philosophy.’

‘The Torem philosopher, Oxin,’
Greenwald said, ‘stated, “The one true definition of a sentient
being, that thing that allows us to know that we exist, is that we
think.”’

‘I think, therefore I am,’ Aneka
said. ‘Descartes. He was a philosopher on Old Earth. Cogito ergo
sum.’ Aneka smiled at the presenter. ‘Thank you, Mister Greenwald.
I’d forgotten about that. Maybe the fact that I question my nature
is the one true indication that I’m not what the Ambassador says I
am.’

‘That’s…’ D’Jarnis began and
then paused as he tried to come up with something he could use to
argue his point.

As Aneka turned to look at him,
something caught the corner of her eye. Movement which pulled her
attention in that direction. One of the audience had left his seat
and was running down the side stairs. One of the floor staff was
moving to intercept him.

‘Whatever she is, she’s still
dangerous.’ D’Jarnis settled on. ‘We have no proof that she is not
a Xinti agent as Winter was.’

‘You’ve no
proof
that
Winter was,’ Aneka said, though her eyes were still on the man from
the audience. ‘Besides, there are no Xinti left to handle
agents.’

‘Ha! You say that, but…’

Stiff-arming the staffer aside,
the man raised his right arm. Aneka’s eyes zoomed in on his hand
and identification data immediately popped up in-vision. He was
holding a small, handheld laser, relatively low power, but quite
lethal against an unarmoured opponent. Aneka’s mind shifted into
combat mode and the world seemed to slow down around her. He was
targeting D’Jarnis; there was a clear line of sight to the
Ambassador while the falling staffer obscured Greenwald and her. He
was going to fire really soon. Aneka bolted forward.

‘Wili huntan bwishu si!’ the man
screamed. Aneka noted the phrase as she closed on the Herosian.
‘Alien bastards must die.’ It sounded like a Humanity First slogan,
or maybe Knights of the Void. D’Jarnis was looking at her with
growing shock and had not recognised the threat yet. There was a
scream from the audience so someone there had. Aneka smelled
burning fabric and then the sting of pain as the beam hit the back
of her neck. Messages indicating that her dermal layer had been
lightly damaged sprang up, but she ignored them.

Turning, she lifted her right
arm and fired her pulse gun. The man’s head snapped back and he was
catapulted into the front row of the audience. Bashford was on his
feet already and rushing over to grab the gunman, but there was no
real need; he was out cold and not getting up to try again.

Aneka pushed herself away from
D’Jarnis as the room dissolved into chaos. Greenwald was sitting in
his chair with his mouth open. Maybe he had a new best show ever.
Guards were moving in from the sides of the studio, but they were
just going to have the clean-up to handle. Ella was getting up and
starting toward the stage. Aneka reached to the back of her neck.
There was no blood, the wound was cauterised, but there was a
narrow gash with mesh armour showing through. She pulled her collar
up over it. She turned around just in time to catch Ella rushing
into her arms.

‘Are you okay?’ the redhead
whispered.

‘Barely a scratch. I’ll be fixed
in an hour.’

‘You saved that fucker’s life
and he’s scurrying away without even saying thank you.’ It was
true, though it was more that the Ambassador’s diplomatic
bodyguards were dragging him off the stage.

‘That doesn’t bother me, but I
don’t like this. This whole set-up. Something doesn’t feel
right.’

Yorkbridge Mid-town, 14.10.527 FSC.

An expression of hurt passed over
Winter’s youthful, Number Nine, features for a long enough time
that Aneka was relaxing visibly even before the woman spoke. ‘I had
nothing to do with…’ She paused, closed her eyes, nodded, and then
looked up at Aneka again. ‘I can see how you might draw the
conclusion. However, no, it was not I who sent the assassin.’

Aneka grinned at her. ‘You know,
if you’re going to walk around in that body, you’re going to have
to stop using long words and lighten up a little.’