Page 18 of Spark Transform

Her presence was more evidence of the gods’ meddling. They’d met once before, ten years ago, but Charrascos didn’t know it. Soleil had a different name and look, and had been wearing a mech suit at the time. If Soleil let Charrascos stay, facts would come out. The woman excelled at uncovering truths, and Soleil tanked at undercover work.

Soleil glanced at Brenner, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. A hem of flexin armor peeked out from under his usual knit tunic and utility pants, and his boots looked newer and heavier.

He’d refused to participate in today’s class because he was on duty. His expression was neutral, but his attention rarely wandered far from the two entryways or Charrascos. Seeing him now made Soleil realize she’d never before seen him that present and engaged before.

Of course, that could be because her memory of him was fuzzy. He’d caused her considerable pain using his formidable minder talent. When the gods of chaos had sent him wandering into her studio a few months ago, looking to trade cleaning for training, he’d maxed her deja vu meter until she figured out why. He looked nothing like he had before, but his speech rhythm and emotional body language triggered her memories.

After a thorough check of his life since his supposed death, she’d taken him to the roof to tell him who she was. And that she knew who he was. She’d been unsurprised when he left…and stunned when he’d come back a ten-day later.

She had an unfair advantage in that she’d read all of Davidro’s journals, even the ones they hadn’t shared. She didn’t tell him because she’d have had to explain how she got them.

The studio felt heavy with secrets and hidden agendas. She’d agreed to observe and evaluate Charrascos, but Soleil was a Jumper, not a spy.

“Break for fifteen.” She nodded toward the south end of the studio, where trays full of veggie-protein wraps and water pouches sat on a narrow counter along the wall. “Clean up if you make a mess.” Inspired, she added, “Find out something new about someone you don’t know well.” One of her personal policies was not to pry, but nothing said she couldn’t let the students do it for her.

The kids launched themselves toward the counter. The food was mostly for them because she suspected it was often their only meal of the day. She pretended not to notice when unclaimed wraps mysteriously ended up in coat pockets.

The adults moved at a more sedate pace. Solomon, an ex-Jumper with cybernetics on most of the left side of her body and living with late-Stage 3 waster’s, approached Charrascos first. “I know you. You produced those where-are-they-now profiles on Eclipse Victor 8 squad.” The usually bitter Solomon seemed starstruck.

“Yes,” Charrascos agreed. “Another one comes out in two days.” She smiled up at all of the Jumpers as she hopped up to sit on the counter. “I think every last one of you is completely crazy and fucking amazing.” Her tone was the same on-target blend of teasing and respect that ex-Jumpers used with each other. They smiled at her, despite themselves.

Fish climbed onto the counter and sat next to Charrascos, mimicking her posture.

“They are all that,” agreed Haseem, the intersex joyhouse medic with the mid-range tenor voice and who used male pronouns. “And the frelling Citizen Protection Service thanks them for their service by issuing waster’s disease testing units.” He grabbed two water pouches and offered one to Charrascos. “It torques my jets that the CPS would rather spend untold billions on black-box projects like the Charisma mess instead of figuring out a cure. Good story, by the way.” He turned to hold out the pouch to Brenner, who was hovering at the edge of the group. “Water?”

Brenner’s face was a grimace of pain as he shook his head. Soleil made a mental note to check on him once the combat section started. She’d been failing him as a teacher and wanted to do better.

First, she needed to take care of another matter. She sat on the bench against the wall and caught the attention of Mags, a dark-haired teenager who was Fish’s newest recruit to the studio. “Bring me a water?”

Mags complied and threaded through the students to offer it.

Soleil took the pouch and patted the bench. “Sit with me a minute.”

Mags eyed her warily, then sat on the edge, clearly expecting trouble.

“Your dark skin and cosmetics hide the bruises pretty well, but you’re moving like my great-great-grandmother when the weather pressure changes.” It was clear from Mags’ first two sessions last week that she had the fighting spirit of a Jumper, if not the height.

Her expression turned defiant. “Falang skive been dangling frac or skin trade, long time. I ghost always, but skive emboscat moi near Gatesea break. Bataille both. I lift off first.”

Soleil was still learning Ridderth’s constantly evolving, steal-from-any-language street dialect, but she gathered Mags had caught the eye of a predator who wanted money or sex. She’d gone out of her way to avoid the situation, but the “skive” ambushed her near a half-demolished bridge at the border between the Canals and Gatesea districts. They’d fought. She’d won.

Soleil nodded, then took a long drink from the water pouch, nearly emptying it. “Would you teach the class one of your moves?”

Mags blinked and gave her a wide-eyed stare. “Teach? Moi?”

“Yes, you. Trade,” she said, holding out her fist with thumb and little finger splayed in Ridderth’s sign language for a deal offer. “I send you to Khovasz tonight for repair and an immune booster. You teach sometime this week.”

The Canals had several no-questions-no-reports medics, but Khovasz was the best, and a minder healer, too. She tilted the last swallow of water into her mouth. “Ask Davonner about how he showed us how to tip a chair in a fight.” She stood and crossed to the recycling box to drop her pouch in, and to give Mags time to think.

Charrascos still sat on the counter listening to Fish bragging about her sister, who traveled the galaxy with the Minder Corps. “I’m going to move in with her the day I’m seventeen.” Fish didn’t often make the effort to speak Standard English.

Charrascos smiled. “What does your sister think of your plan?”

“She says wait and see, but she doesn’t have to live with my cockroach brother.” She sneered. “Dàofěi. Lying thief. Thinks he’s chief of me ‘cause he’s in a bottom-feeder crew.” She gave Charrascos a suspicious glance. “You don’t have brothers, do you?”

Charrascos shook her head. “Nope.”

“Are you hot-connecting with Brenner?” asked Vasil, the graceful gender plus cremation worker who had absolute zero guile or social skills. Their aunt sent them to the studio to learn how to make friends and to learn self-defense when they inadvertently caused annoyance.