Page 12 of Spark Transform

Arco leaned closer but spoke loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “Even better. Brenner’s my new security.” She pointedly glanced at one of the huge displays on one wall that showed the Galactic Date and Time and local time in all zones across the planet. “Oh, sorry, we’re late. I’ll send you the bodyshop’s pingref.” She patted Z’Dann’s fingers, then pulled away and took off at a determined pace toward the offices.

Brenner matched her stride. “Don’t like her?” he asked quietly.

She glanced at him. “I do, actually, but conversations with her are never quick, and we’re on a schedule.” She gave Brenner a teasing smile. “If she invites you, take her up on the planetary restaurant and joyhouse tour. She’s an Oshun-certified ten-star reviewer.”

Brenner’s expression blanked, which she was beginning to realize was his version of surprise.

As usual, she couldn’t guess what he was actually thinking, and she’d set a rule for herself not to treat him like a gift to unwrap. Some quality about her made people want to tell her things. Even as a young teen just coming into her filer talent for perfect memory, she’d attracted people who needed their stories to be heard. Some journalists made their fame and fortune by abusing their skills. She didn’t want to be one of them.

Trouble was, she already knew more about him than she should. An anonymous source had sent her a journal excerpt, then twenty years’ worth of entries from the journal kept by Brenner’s massively warped former boss, Dixon Davidro. She’d found Brenner in the rubble because the initial excerpt had set her finder talent ablaze.

She still didn’t trust the rest of the entries enough to use them as primary evidence, but they’d proven reliable for deep background. A disturbing number of Davidro’s assignments had involved neutralizing or destroying enemies of the CPS. His journal implied he’d been one of hundreds of similar handlers across the galaxy. She’d since confirmed it was true.

More appalling was the number of minders he’d captured and controlled like puppets. From top-level healers to prolific serial killers, to a young man with a powerful and unique talent, they’d all been tools and toys for their boss’s twisted amusement.

In her opinion, Davidro deserved to be shredded from the inside by a top-level telepath, then brain-burned so he could spend the rest of his miserable biological existence as a controlled automaton waste-mucker on a radioactive planet.

In a nutshell, Davidro had captured the teenage miscreant named Renner and forced a full-body makeover on him. Davidro spent years trying to mold the young jackal into a loyal slave who protected his master out of grateful duty. When that failed miserably, Davidro reshaped Renner — including multiple full-body makeovers — into a tool for violence and death.

Davidro had devoted tens of thousands of self-congratulatory words to the brilliant design and construction of the lethal mechanical collar that had kept Renner always close and invested in Davidro’s continued good health. He’d devoted six sentences to complaining about Renner’s negative reaction to being collared like a vicious but still useful hellhound.

Miraculously, the enigmatic man now called Brenner had come out of that appalling circus more or less unwarped. With ethics, even. He was a survivor. He deserved not to be cracked open, and especially not by her.

She led him past the main kitchen to the tiny office cubes, stacked three high with airglide lifts for access to the narrow walkways. Luck gave her one of the bottom-level spaces, third from the end.

“Home, until we vacate.” She opened her coat to get at her sling bag so she could hand him a cool water pouch and a still-warm wrap. “Breakfast.” He’d said he’d eat anything, so she was putting that to the test.

She draped her coat over the far chair and waved her hand over the control that made the desk extend so they’d have a surface to eat on. After she set the wall glass to semi-private, she unfolded her tablet so it could automatically sync to the four holo displays. The first bite of smoke-kissed vegetable protein and spiced, cheesy egg curds wrapped in tangy flatbread tasted heavenly.

Brenner kept his coat on and sat as if he didn’t trust the chair. He bolted down his food without comment, warily keeping an eye on both her and the open doorway.

The previous evening at her new home had been equally interesting.

He’d prowled around the quasi-residential complex and her leased three-story townhouse, looking for vulnerabilities. She’d authorized him to use the house comp, the rooftop garage and stacker, and her newly-leased secure flitter. He’d quizzed her about her schedule for the next few days.

When he’d requested monitoring equipment, he’d seemed surprised when she’d readily agreed and purchased it for next-day delivery to Novo G’s offices. She also gave him an anonymous cashflow chip so he could buy weapons and clothes that wouldn’t get him rousted as a rioter.

He’d disappeared for several hours, then returned with a beat-up sling bag and wearing a non-wrinkle business-style tunic, pants, spare boots, and a patched raincoat. She suspected it might be the sum total of his worldly goods.

She wasn’t much better. The life of a nomadic independent journalist left no room for clutter. In nine months on Ridderth, she’d accumulated a few more tech toys, but that was it. She recycled wardrobes as often as she altered her looks. Even if they combined their resources, she and Brenner looked like break-in squatters who camped out in the two second-floor bedrooms to hide from security checks.

The only room that really looked lived in was the third-floor loft, where she’d set up her tech when she’d moved in the day before. Having a dozen high-res holos displayed at once was a pleasure, but she could work with only her percomp’s holodisplay if she had to. Often had, back when she started. Only prolific publication under multiple alternate identities had kept her from starving while she built up a steady income.

And look at her now, with a minor following for Arco Charrascos, living the high-glide, glossy life in a Novo G stringer cube.

When they finished eating breakfast, she took him on a quick tour of the rest of the floor, ending up back at her temporary desk.

“I need thirty minutes here. Then we’ll go get you listed with Novo G’s security and introduce you around.”

Her previous security team had found ways to entertain themselves while she worked, but Brenner didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He took off his coat, then eyed the office doorway and the chair several times. Finally, he pushed the chair closer to the doorway, draped the coat on the back, and stood next to it instead of sitting.

She nodded at him, then set a timer for herself before diving into the streams of data in her customized queues. Even though she was going claustro-crazy, breathing recycled air and never tasting the rain, she shifted more tasks and appointments to keep her prudently indoors for another day.

The rating trends said her readers really liked the “where are they now” series about the Jumper squadron she’d first profiled years ago. Fans found the Ridderth political corruption stories tedious. Honestly, so did she. They never seemed to change. But with the right teasers and hooks, people read the full stories, and Arco Charrascos got paid. Her various active pen names were selling as usual, with no notable blips or dips. Which was unexpected, considering how badly she’d neglected them in the past year.

A subscription data-diver service posed intriguing questions based on a mysterious hypercube of current CPS minder health data they’d found in the public records of an obscure regional government ministry on a far-flung planet. She paid the fee for the full report and sent it to her private reference space.

In checking Novo G’s story register, she was struck by how much it had grown and diversified in the ten-day she’d been off planet. Even if her finder talent wasn’t already telling her the city was headed for troubled times, the burgeoning register would have. The rest of the city’s economy might be abysmal, but the media business’s economy was booming.