Page 58 of Spark Transform

And maybe he shouldn’t be directly under a mega-kilo hunk of incalloy armor when it finally collapsed.

Still blinded by phantom black bars, he slid his free hand down his leg until he got to where flesh and bone converged with a metal tentacle. Even jostling it hurt like fire.

He dumped one last charge into the walker’s systems, then let go and sank to one knee. Every inch of him screamed in pain. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed the tentacle and pulled it out, hand over hand.

No scream he could make was loud enough to shout away the torture. There would be no walking on that leg.

Falling to his hands and knees, he crawled. The only light came from the dying spider, and even that was dimming fast. Sleet felt like needles on his newly burned skin.

The spider walker’s lights went out, plunging the world into darkness. He had no charge left, not even enough to power a seed light.

Crawling was all he could do. His brain felt muzzy.

To his left, a tiny light blinked three times. “Brenner, it’s me.”

Relief collapsed his elbows, landing him face-first in the mud. He didn’t care. Arco was safe. Now he could rest. His world tunneled to a pinpoint.

“Don’t you fucking die on me, asshole.”

He loved his red angel’s way with words.

Chapter 20

Planet: Mabingion • GDAT 3242.227

Arco sat vigil with the autodoc that cradled Brenner face down, naked, and still unconscious. Her worse-for-wear pink-rimmed tablet rested in her lap. The warm but windowless room couldn’t have fit anything more than the old padded chair she occupied and the Jumper-sized autodoc that was so new it still had quality seals on two of its ports.

The unit’s flawless white interior contrasted with Brenner’s golden skin, now mottled red with chaos patterns of burns and marred by myriad scrapes and bruises. Small, distinctively shaped char marks across his hips matched the metal decorations on his ruined pants. Despite his injuries, he was still handsome, with sleekly defined muscles she wanted to memorize by touch.

Seen through the autodoc’s clear canopy, the healing mists swirled like the mesmerizing atmosphere of a gas giant planet. Dozens of microneedle lines plunged into Brenner’s flesh. The biggest concentration covered his lower left calf like sea anemone tentacles, helping repair the cracked bone, torn muscles, and charred skin from the piercing wound.

By rights, he should be in a full-service medical center. It was her fault that he wasn’t.

Well, hers and the assholes who sent an experimental military spider mech after civilians.

The military claimed the damaged, disoriented spider’s pulse generator had somehow flatlined every single power source for a seven-block radius. Audience responses said few believed their explanation. She’d bet a month’s royalties the military didn’t believe it, either.

In her career, she’d met plenty of brave people. First responders in disasters. Whistleblowers who had everything to lose. Ex-Jumpers who refused to be sidelined by waster’s disease. None of them compared to the man who marched up to a three-story-tall war machine and destroyed it like he was the spirit of lightning incarnate.

A light knock on the door frame preceded Haseem’s entrance into the tiny room. “The autodoc won’t work any faster if you watch it.” Gentle exasperation laced his tone as he pointed to the readout. “It’ll be six or eight hours yet.”

She shrugged. It wasn’t worth articulating all the reasons she needed to be there.

His expression softened. “N’Dwama came by with everything she could find. The bags are in your room. She’s waiting for you on the roof.”

“Thanks.” Reluctantly, she pushed the blanket aside and stood. “You are very good to bad patients.”

She counted herself in that category. Haseem had treated her for hypothermia and dozens of scrapes and muscle strains. She’d dragged unconscious Brenner from the construction site to the runabout Minan had hastily stolen. At the time, fear of being caught had fluxed her adrenaline, but she was paying for it now. Haseem had prescribed bed rest, but her brain wouldn’t let her sleep.

He waved off her apology. “Occupational hazard. It’s usually the pain talking.” He smiled. “Unless it’s Jumpers, in which case, we don’t mention the ‘p’ word. They’ll bleed to death before they admit they hurt.”

With one last glance at Brenner, she followed Haseem out the door.

She glanced at his round-cheeked profile. “Do you like living here?”

After Haseem’s trouble with the crew, he’d accepted Soleil’s invitation to move into one of the upper-floor rooms of the converted warehouse. Within a day, five children, a pregnant stray cat, and four Jumpers had moved in, too. Arco suspected Soleil hadn’t imagined she’d be opening a hostel when she started her martial arts studio.

“Yes, I do like it here. The Jumpers are amazing. I didn’t realize how unsafe I felt before.”