Page 49 of Spark Transform

“Two questions. Will the crew’s failed assault bring trouble to the studio?”

“Not that I know of.” He deeply appreciated that she hadn’t asked for details. Better that they all thought it was an ad hoc crew recruiting for a solo heist.

“Second question. Can you leave town for a while?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m going off planet with Charrascos for a couple of ten-days.” He’d lost track of time, but it was still morning, and the shuttle didn’t leave until the afternoon. “Is Haseem safe?”

“He just took off. Come on up. Don’t forget to fix the hauler.”

“Debt owed.” He didn’t know how he’d pay, but he would.

“Debt canceled. He’s our friend, too. Keep Arco safe and come back to class.” A stutter tone signaled the end of the conversation.

He lowered Shukra’s inert body until she was on the ground, slumped in the recessed doorway. In his former life, she’d be dead. It felt good to have the choice to leave her alive, even though she and the others were sodding, zift-for-brains amateurs.

Pulling his hood down to cover his face, he headed north as he withdrew his talent from the crew’s ground hauler. He hiked northwest toward the building where Soleil had parked on the roof. Reaching under his hood, he reattached his personal earwire in his free ear, then powered his percomp and synced it to the net.

Messages from Charrascos’s security team came flooding in. Tapio had decided to leave early. They needed Brenner now. Charrascos was draggy and out of it, but still going. She needed all the protection she could get.

Despite the slick footing, he launched into a run as he pinged Soleil on her secure net.

“Jumpers all know how to fly, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Do you know someone with a ship who can get me up to the Mabingion Space Station in the next two hours?”

Chapter 17

Planet: Mabingion • GDAT 3242.209

The charred building ruins still smoldered, reminding Gezi of the hellish firelight that had taken two days for Ridderth’s frigid rains to quench. It had been eight days since the raids.

The gold-skinned, lion-maned woman driving the ground hauler cleared her throat. “Chief Wutala, you’re top boss, but being here is lamb odds.”

The true concern in Tycall’s voice made Gezi forgive her for suspecting that grief and rage were making Gezi take naïve chances like she was a noob in a flash-cash casino looking to be shorn.

The woman was her new security chief. Her former chief and twelve of her people had been obliterated in microseconds. The spectacular destruction of both her labs during the CPS raids had become the iconic vids for the stories that still topped the planet-wide newstrends.

Gezi would bet her favorite neurowhip that the “minder-rights terrorist” targets mostly consisted of people the CPS found inconvenient. Just like all their previous raids and purges. Ridderth’s history with them stretched back for decades.

Gezi waved toward the ruin. “Whoever did this isn’t baiting me into the open. Message already delivered.” The blackened slag heaps that used to be her building and its neighbors looked slimy in the rain. “Unlike the sodding amateurs who torched the original building, this was done by pros.” She shook her head. “If they’d wanted me dead, I’d already be cremated.”

Tension tried to creep into her neck. She released the tension in her ribs to let air into her lungs. “Which is why I think it’s not the CPS. The building coordinates weren’t on the leaked target list. More to the point, they aren’t taking credit for it.”

Tycall’s modified tongue swirled around one of her enlarged canine teeth. “E’nilsama crew and Temru Ice busy fighting over Gatesea North. Daringos, maybe? They nibbling all the time and don’t like paying the turf penalties.”

Gezi snorted. “Daringos wouldn’t know a detonator from a doorknob.”

She made herself memorize the details of the devastation, as she had with her other lab. No one believed in ghosts anymore, but just in case, she told them her vow.

Whoever targeted her would pay in double blood. She’d see to it personally and make sure it was done right.

Besides the dead, nineteen others had been seriously injured, including her beloved Khenzan. He had at least another week in the med center and would need more rehab after that.

In her own way, she loved all of her crew. They weren’t a wealthy dynasty or even a family corporation, but they believed in loyalty. As a result, multi-cribbers like the twisted dead man from a few weeks ago were rare.

Tycall sank her extended claws into the seat’s padded arm. “Ridrats, then. They always lookin’ to shred us.”