Page 2 of Spark Transform

“Ghost. Report.” Marcan’s order demanded a response.

Silence, except for the synth voice warnings from the air shuttle about its still-open doors and the ringing in Arco’s ears.

Wrestling her backpack forward, she opened it quietly. She lacked fight skills or emergency medical training, but she had tools at her disposal. Tapping awake her wristcomp, she sent orders to the array of tiny flying cameras she always carried. She ordered them to spread out and randomize their flight pattern so they wouldn’t rise like agitated bees and give away her position.

A composited realtime holo image formed as the cameras sent data. The passenger station looked like the aftermath of an urban riot or a theft crew’s hurried slice-and-haul. Interior lights fluctuated and blinked their distress.

In the holo, Marcan scuttled quickly toward the upended column that used to be the ticket kiosk, now pinning Ringo’s legs. One was bent at an ugly angle.

Cameras keyed on movement near what had once been the front entry. The image showed Jaffasso climbing over the rubble. He looked irritated, with a muddy, bloody scrape on the side of his face where he typically wore his earwire. His lips shaped words as he dodged the columns of rain where the roof had failed, but her cameras weren’t close enough to hear what he said.

Guilt prodded her to do something, but she stayed put. The hardest lesson she’d had to learn, once she’d become enough of a target to need a security team, was to follow their orders and let them do their jobs. Ringo and Marcan had been with her since she’d returned to Ridderth and signed a contract with Novo Granica Media.

One of her better ideas had been to ask for help in hiring her team as part of that contract. Novo G had become security experts the hard way. They’d originated thousands of top-trend, often-cited, highly incendiary investigative stories in their sixty-year history. They had many more enemies than Arco did.

Rain fell through the holes in the roof. The station’s lights now strobed erratically, causing the cameras to keep moving for better angles. Jaffasso walked quickly toward Marcan, who was on her knees next to Ringo, using a medical hand-scanner.

Jaffasso looked intently toward the debris-covered air shuttle.

From her hiding place, Arco heard him with her ears as well as via sound pickups in the cameras. His voice was loud and tight with tension. “Where’s Orion?”

“Safe for now,” replied Marcan. “Is the kiosk too heavy for your talent... Shit!”

In the holo, Jaffasso drew a small beamer from his belt and shot Ringo in the head. Marcan threw herself at Jaffasso’s legs to knock him down while scrambling for a weapon of her own. When they landed, his beamer went sailing into a puddle of oily sludge.

Metal shards on the floor rose and arrowed their way toward Marcan’s back, but couldn’t penetrate the flexin armor she wore under her clothes.

A beamer flash charred Jaffasso’s left knee. He screeched in pain.

Marcan’s body lifted and flew back nearly a meter. She twisted to roll as she landed.

Jaffasso shot her with a stunner, hitting her unarmored hand. She jerked like a fish on a line, then fell back. Stunners disrupted mammalian nerve messages for minutes, and flatlined most minder talents for minutes or hours.

Jaffasso sat up and leaned toward Marcan, wincing as he grabbed his thigh. “Give me Charrascos, and I’ll let you live.” He spoke quietly, but the camera skulking near Marcan’s ankle picked up his words.

Marcan’s head turned with an uncoordinated jerk to face Jaffasso. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the defiance on her face spoke volumes. “Suck plasma.”

Jaffasso shook his head. “You’re willing to die for a fucking reporter?” His lips twisted in disdain.

In the wider view on the holo display, the figure of Jaffasso aimed his stunner toward the shuttle. “Charrascos!” His shout echoed in the station. “Marcan and I are hurt. We need your help!”

A cold shiver ran through her. Without the stark evidence from her cameras, she might have been tempted to respond to the desperate sincerity in his voice.

Kicking herself for not thinking of it sooner, she quietly used her wristcomp to send a multi-band distress signal to the police, emergency medics, and the public transportation security. To Novo G, she sent a segment of the recording showing Jaffasso murdering Ringo. As extra insurance, she streamed all her raw imagery to her own encrypted space and a backup net.

In the holo, Jaffasso’s expression hardened. His body began to rise, floating in midair. Obviously, he was much more than the CPS Institute-washout, mid-level telekinetic that his background check indicated. Only high-level talent and advanced training enabled a teke to raise his own body in full gravity.

Arco couldn’t match his talent, but maybe she could distract him long enough for help to arrive. She directed three of her larger cameras to make a triad, then fly toward him at top speed. She directed two more smaller ones to swoop toward his face and blaze their little lights at the last second. He swatted at them, cursing, then howled when the triad bounced off his charred knee. He dropped to the floor and landed on his ass with a thud.

Unexpectedly, Marcan flopped awkwardly onto her side and curled her knees up in a protective position. Jaffasso snarled and shot her head with his stunner. Marcan’s shielded rain hood sparked as her head jerked forward. Her hands fumbled at her boots.

Arco directed the blood-covered camera triad to fly at Jaffasso’s temple, but he ducked. The triad veered sharply and shattered on the floor.

Marcan rolled gracelessly toward Jaffasso’s legs and used both hands to impale Jaffasso’s thin thigh with a forceblade.

Jaffasso screamed with rage. Marcan’s body slid away fast across the wet floor for twelve meters, toward the shuttle slot. She covered her head, meaning her elbows took the impact with a sickening crack that Arco didn’t need her cameras to hear.

The holo image showed Jaffasso pulling the forceblade out of his thigh, above his ruined knee. Blood spurted once and continued to pulse.