“She’s been popular over the ages in anime, so some people should know her. Oh, wait, she was this other guy’s concubine. What is it with these Japanese fighters? Maybe those Celtic goddesses we found would be better,” Doug went on.
“I already told you I’ve already decided. I made myself pretty clear. I’m Michiko MacCailín. I don’t need a Celtic goddess or Japanese samurai to give me credibility.”
“Oh, you’re no fun,” Tamara said sourly. “If you’re going by your real name, how can I be ‘The Tattooed Avenger?’”
She got off the couch and stomped off to the bathroom.
“Do you think she likes that guy?” Doug asked.
“What guy?”
“You know, the Brotherhood spy,” Doug said.
“Him? Tamara ‘likes’ almost everyone, and she has a pretty active appetite. You know that. Would she play hide-in-the-cupboard with him? I don’t know. Probably, if the opportunity presented itself,” Michi responded. “Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Is the boyfriend getting jealous?” Michi asked with a laugh.
With Doug constantly coming over, they had decided a little over a week ago that Doug and Tamara should become a “thing.” They ate lunches together at work and came home together when their schedules coincided. And Doug slept over more often than he went home. He slept on the couch, and inside the condo, it was the same as always, but they hoped to anyone on the outside that it would seem the two had a real relationship.
“No!” Doug protested. “I, well, I just want to make sure everything looks right. That’s all.”
His vehement denial gave Michi pause. Did Doug really like her?
That line of thought disappeared as an undernet feed chimed on both of their PAs. A vid of Marines moving through some buildings could be seen, and a voice said that there had been violence again in Dundee. The vid was choppy and unsteady, but it zoomed in past the Marines to what were unmistakably bodies. The voice reported that over 100 were killed as they assaulted a Marine unit.
“What’s up?” Tamara said as she came out of the bathroom.
“People are fighting the Marines,” Doug said soberly. “I guess they listened.”
Michi stared at the dead bodies. She knew, she hoped, it would come to this. But seeing the bodies, well, that brought it into focus. Those people were alive this morning, kissing lovers and playing with children. Now, because of Michi, they were dead.
The price of war hit Michi hard.
Chapter 29
“OK, we’re running late. Stand up and take off your shirt,” Doug said as he and Tamara came in the door.
“What?” she asked, standing up, but not taking off her T.
“Come on, girl. Your shirt, take it off,” Tamara said, reaching over to help.
Michi didn’t resist, but she didn’t help much either as the shorter Tamara struggled to get the T over her head.
“Bra, too, girl. Come on, off!” Tamara said impatiently.
Michi glanced at Doug. Despite him now living on the couch, she had not paraded naked in the condo. She had changed from the bikini to her Red Athena shirt in the park, but that had been a quick switch while Doug watched the kill zone. Now, Doug was standing there, watching and waiting. With a sigh, she shrugged and touched the two release buds, and her bra cups fell to the ground.
Doug handed Tamara what looked to be a large roll of gauze, like medics and nurses used.
“Hands up,” she told Michi.
Michi felt exposed like that, and she wished she knew what the two had prepared for her. She knew she needed a disguise, but what that had to do with her standing exposed like that was beyond her.
Tamara put the leading edge of the gauze against Michi’s side. “Doug, help me. Hold this here.”
Michi stared over Doug’s bent head as he reached forward, pressing the leading edge against her. Tamara started walking in back of Michi, unrolling the gauze. She came to the front again, pulling the gauze tight against Michi’s breasts. Then it became clear. They were binding her! OK, that made some sense.
It took a few minutes, but finally Tamara stepped back and looked at Michi’s chest. “What do you think?” she asked Doug.
“She’s still not petite, but I think it’s enough,” Doug said.
Michi, hands still up, looked down. Her chest was not small, but her breasts had been flattened pretty well. She lowered her arms and then swung them around to see if the gauze would stay in place.
“That feel OK?” Tamara asked.
“Uh, yeah. Weird, but OK.”
“Let me have the pad,” Tamara told Doug, who handed over what looked like a warped pillow. “I don’t know. The duct tape?”
“Yeah, I think the gauze might shift,” Doug said as they stared at her as if she was a mannequin.
“This might hurt a little when it comes off,” Tamara told her as she and Doug put the pad around her belly and over her hips and duct taped it into place.
It was tight, and it restricted Michi’s breathing just a bit, but it wasn’t too bad.
“Drop the shorts,” Tamara told her, but with the duct tape around her belly, Michi couldn’t bend over that well, and her shorts hung up on her knees.
Tamara had to reach over and knock them down so Michi could step out. Doug and Tamara then proceeded to tape pads to her thighs and butt, leaving bulges where previously there had been none. When they were finished, they both stepped back to check their work.
“I don’t know, it might be enough. Let’s get her dressed,” Tamara said.
“Hey, ‘her’ is right here in front of you,” Michi grumbled, but without conviction.
Wrapped up, Michi couldn’t dress herself, so both of her roommates had to pull on the pants and shirt being careful to leave all the pads in place. She sat down as Doug pulled a pair of Giraffes out of a bag.
Oh great, with me all bundled up, they want me to wear 12 cm platforms? She thought.
But when Doug slid on the shoes, she was surprised that her feet went in farther than she expected. She stood up, and she felt like she was standing on the floor itself, not on the elevated soles.
“Hollowed out,” Doug said with a smile. “Makes you look shorter than you really are to any surveillance.”
“Is all of this really necessary?” Michi asked. “Isn’t this overkill? You’ve got me a new face, after all.”
“I told you this would change your life. They’ve got recordings of you, and your body, your posture, your gait, everything will have been entered into the system. All the surveillance cameras will have been programmed to alert on anyone who fits those parameters. So, it’s not just the face. We have to change everything.”
He took the shoes back off, put something inside each one, then put them back on her.
“OK, walk,” he told her.
“Ow!” she exclaimed as something dug into her feet. “What did you put in there?”
“Just an insert to make your gait different.”
“You mean that really works?” Michi asked.
“Yeah, why?”
Doug never knew about the two attacks on jacks, and Michi and Tamara had decided to keep that secret.
“I don’t know. I guess I thought that was only in the spy flicks,” she said instead as Tamara silently mouthed “I told you” behind Doug’s head.
“OK, I think we’re ready. Go take a look in the mirror,” Doug told her.
Michi walked into Tamara’s room and to the big, full-length mirror there. In front of her was a slightly dumpy-looking girl, not really fat, but not slim either. She turned on the new spoofer face, and the dumpy-looking girl turned into a dumpy-looking middle-aged woman. The face was not too terribly different from hers, but it had lost the slightly Asian-cast her real face had.
“Yes, you’re beautiful. But we’ve got to get going,” Tamara said, leaning against the doorframe. “The NIP won’t wait.”
“You still think this is a good idea?” Michi asked
her.
“No, I’m not sure. But risk and rewards, like Doug said. We’ve got to make a move sometime, and now, you’re hot,” Tamara responded.
“But you don’t have to go. Why risk it?”
“I couldn’t get to your little ambush, so it’s my turn. ’Sides, if this is a trap, then they’ll get my identity out of you.”
“I wouldn’t talk,” Michi said.
“Everyone talks. Don’t let the flicks fool you,” Tamara said.
“You two done? We’ve got to get moving,” Doug said, poking his head in the bedroom.
Michi and Tamara hugged, then Michi left the room and made her way to the street. The other two would be following in a few minutes. She slowly walked to the rendezvous point, just a woman on an afternoon stroll. She would have felt better meeting at night, but the curfew made that impossible.
She stopped for a doughnut, and there, sipping some coffee, was an old lady wearing a green neck scarf. Michi tried not to stare at her contact. She nibbled at her doughnut, but when the old woman got up, Michi was only half-finished. She slammed the rest down, and after a minute, left the shop.
The old lady was about 30 meters down the sidewalk and Michi slowly followed, looking in store windows, trying to seem inconspicuous. The woman turned the corner, and when Michi reached it, she saw the woman stepping into an apartment building. Michi hurried forward and stepped in as well. The woman was gone, the access door closed.
Michi didn’t have a code, nor did she know an apartment number to ring to get buzzed up. She tentatively reached out and pushed the door, and to her relief, it opened. She stepped inside, and the old woman was waiting for an elevator. Michi joined her, and they rode to the 32nd floor. The woman got out without saying a word, and Michi, not knowing what else to do, followed her. Halfway down the hall, a door opened and an arm reached out to pull Michi in. Her heart pounded as a hooded man stood there. He quickly ran a portable scanner over her and must have been satisfied because he motioned for Michi to enter the apartment.
“Michi, dear. So glad to see you,” Cheri said, giving Michi a kiss on each cheek.
This was the first time they had seen each other in person since the broadcast. Michi had made a recording, giving a full report, and that had been given to the chapter chairman, but they hadn’t had time to discuss things in more detail.
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard anything yet, but your parents have been arrested, and your home’s been razed,” she told Michi, her voice not quite indicating sympathy.
Michi thought it might have been somewhat of an “I told you so,” statement that Cheri should not have been kept out of the loop.
Michi was shocked at the revelation, though. Her parents? Her home? She knew coming out would have ramifications, but she didn’t know her family would be affected like that. What was the probable cause? They were First Family, and the company could not run roughshod over any of them, at least according to the charter. But then again, the company had shown before that it was willing to break the charter to suit its needs.
She had been essentially disowned by her family, but still, blood ran thick. Their arrest was just one more thing on the list for which Michi planned on getting revenge.
“Michi, let me introduce you to Mike.”
Just “Mike?” No last name? Michi wondered.
“Mike is an officer in the NIP, and he wanted to meet you.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for the other two?” Michi asked, speaking of Tamara and Doug.
“They won’t be coming,” Mike said. “They’ve been taken somewhere else.” He held up a hand as Michi started to protest. “They will not be harmed. We just wanted to meet you privately, and when you insisted on your friends coming too, this was just easier.”
Michi didn’t like that. The other two were part of her conditions, and if this was the NIP, that didn’t bode well for potential cooperation.
That was the crux, though. Were Mike and his unnamed companion really NIP? Each of the old board members knew that Michi had used the NIP as bait to identify the traitor, and Hokkam had brought the company in on the supposed meeting, too, so it was not any secret. They could have turned around and used the exact same tactic to capture Michi. But Cheri had insisted this was the real deal, so Michi had agreed.
“Can we see the real you?” Mike asked, pointing to Michi’s face.
Michi had forgotten her spoofer. With a flip of the switch, she was back to being Michiko.
“That’s better. Ms. Baliles here has already explained your disguise generator. It’s an interesting application, perhaps a little dated, but that might have been to your advantage given surveillance technology,” Mike went on.
Michi bristled at that. “Dated?” Who was he to criticize? The NIP had been organized almost 20 years before, and what had they accomplished during that time? Nothing!
“Ms. MacCailín, what now?” he asked.
What now? What now what? she wondered, confused by the question.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You’ve killed a Federation Marine and essentially called out the planet to go to war. So what are you going to do now?”
“Uh, well, I haven’t discussed that with Cheri and the board yet, so I don’t know of any concrete plans.”
“But you are not actually a member of the Workers’ Rights Party, if I understand correctly. So why are you waiting for them?” he asked.
“No. I mean yes. I am not a member. But we’ve been working together,” Michi said.
“Have you thought about coming to us? We are the more, shall we say, active group in opposition to the company and Federation. We’re not in it only for company employees—we are fighting for everyone on the planet, even including the First Families like your father and mother who are now in company holding cells.”
“And why do you want me?” she asked him.
“To be blunt, because you’ve managed to incite a spark in the people, something we haven’t been able to do. We’ve got weapons. We’ve got trained fighters. We’ve got plans upon plans. But we’ve not been able to draw the masses to the cause. We think you can.”
Michi sat staring at him before looking to the other man. “And does your quiet friend think that, too?”
The two men looked at each other, and with a shrug, the second man reached up and pulled on his chin. A sheet of bioflesh lifted off, revealing the familiar face of the Right Reverend Duncan, the spiritual leader of The Kirk and the same man who had sat in her living room to grill her those months back.
“Yes, lass, I do,” he said.
Michi stared at the man in shock. The NIP had a reputation of being obsessed crazies running around in the forest while playing militia. How could the Right Reverend be involved?
“You’ve probably got many questions, and if you want, you and I can sit and talk, but the question now is if you want to help.”
“But you’re the—”
“I’m this year’s Right Reverend, aye. But righteousness is righteousness, and the Kirk has always protected the oppressed.”
“But with guns?” she asked, still surprised.
“The sword of the Lord is wielded by mortal man, lass,” he said gently.
She looked from the Right Reverend to Mike to Cheri.
“What do you think?” she asked Cheri.
“I wouldn’t have agreed to the meeting if I were against it. Maybe, if the time is right, you can do more good with the NIP.”
“And is the time right, Mike?” she asked.
“Well, to be honest, we had planned on something later, but that was before you took it upon yourself to take out a Marine and issue a call to arms. We have to be flexible if we are going to persevere, and you sort of kicked it all off. We want to take advantage of that,” he said, all traces of self-importance gone from his voice.
Michi stood for a moment. The thought of striking back, really striking back, excited her. This was a moment where she could seize the momentum, s
eize the opportunity.
“And you are ready to strike?” she asked.
“Within a week, maybe two at the longest, yes,” Mike told her.
“I’m in, but under some conditions.”
“And what conditions,” Mike asked, his voice suddenly wary.
“First, I am not a figurehead. When it comes to a fight, I will be at the forefront.”
“And second?”
“Second, I am not some comic book figure. The costume goes. No more bare midriff, no low cut bammers. Whatever uniform you have, that’s what I’ll wear.”
She saw the Right Reverend smile at that. No matter his willingness to fight, it seemed as if the First Family inherent cultural conservatism still held sway with him.
“Anything else?” Mike asked.
“Yes. When we win, I want my parent’s house to be rebuilt. That’s all.”
Mike held out his hand, which Michi took. “Done and done,” he said, his face breaking out into a smile.
Michi was elated. She was going to war!
Chapter 30
“We can fire 15 of these 25mm shells per minute, and they pack a pretty good punch,” the man said with evident pride in his voice.
Michi tried to look attentive as she listened to the man extol the virtues of their three Donaldson field guns, small mobile artillery that could be employed by a two-man team. The NIP had three of them, and these were the heaviest guns in their inventory. Or was it those rockets she’d seen only 20 minutes before?
Michi was having a hard time keeping everything straight. She pulled down her fatigue blouse where it kept riding up under her pistol belt and over her butt. The uniform was better than her super-hero costume, but despite her words, she was sure it had been tailored taking her figure into consideration. There were other women in the NIP army, and their fatigues were the same shapeless ones given to the men. Michi’s, however, gathered at the waist and had slightly tapered legs. The difference was not so great, though, that Michi felt she had to protest. She was pragmatic enough to realize that even if she insisted she was not a figurehead, still, as one of the leaders of the small army, appearances mattered.
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