Page 23 of Spark Transform

Tuzan swirled the wine in his glass. “I’m still bothered by her change in pattern. This is the longest she’s stayed on one planet, ever, in the last twenty years, much less the same city. And her life before that is a blank slate.”

“By design, I’d imagine, to protect her family,” said Josh. “Maybe she’s staying for the opportunity. Her production output has doubled, mostly with stories related to Ridderth. Her name recognition is rising, so her income probably is, too. Money talks.” Josh’s mouth tightened in frustration. “She’s got better finsec than banks.”

Soleil hid a smile. Josh rarely ran into civilian security systems, financial or otherwise, that he couldn’t crack in an hour or two. It made him grumpy when he did.

Tuzan swallowed the last of the wine in his glass and set it on the counter. “Maybe we caused her pattern break by anonymously sharing Dixon Davidro’s journals.”

“Maybe, but I’d do it again. That sick twist made actual slaves of his so-called pets.” Josh leaned against the high counter and crossed his arms. “She’s been clever about how she used the data. I’ll bet the publicity heat from her work and the follow-on stories by others forced the CPS to quit using independent contractors for covert ops. Not that they’ll admit it.”

“This all might be moot if she doesn’t come back to class,” said Soleil. “Today was combat day, and she has the bruises to show for it.” She smiled. “Poor Brenner didn’t know whether to ignore her, defend her, or give her pointers.”

“He’s an odd choice for personal security.” Josh stacked the dirty dishes in the drawer, which would clean them quietly that night.

Soleil knew Josh didn’t much care for Brenner, based on old experience and the fact he’d hurt her on Davidro’s orders. “He’s changed from when you knew him.”

Tuzan chuckled. “As we all know, near-death experience does that to a person.” His smile faded. “We still don’t know anything about Charrascos’s personal life, either. Most independent journalists keep that private or they’re vulnerable, but it’s like she never had a personal life to protect.”

“Brenner might know.” Josh folded a napkin.

Soleil shook her head. “I’m not putting him in that position.”

Josh’s shoulders hunched. “If we engage with her, she’ll need shields. She might not want them.” He sounded uncharacteristically hopeful that she wouldn’t, except Soleil detected the tinge of Nordic accent in the words. The bomber personality hated sharing anything.

Tuzan made a rude noise. “How does that conversation go? ‘I know we just met, but do you want ultra-secret minder shields so we can tell you more CPS secrets we hope you’ll publish?’” He looked at the empty glass in his hand, then set it down. “I’ll need to check with my shield liaison.”

“Charrascos has no reason to trust any of us.” Josh rolled his shoulders. “Besides, she’s an investigative journalist. She can’t do her job if she’s perceived as having an agenda. We want sunlight on the government’s secrets, not ours. A trail of breadcrumbs will take time to arrange.”

“This sneaky-spider shit makes me crazy.” Soleil curled fingers like a scuttling arachnid. “Investigators of any kind are vulnerable to telepaths, so Charrascos probably already has protection. But if your shield source is willing, I’m willing to tell Brenner that if she needs shields like mine, I might be able to arrange it. Same conditions — all associated memories get cleaned.”

“At least Brenner is immune to telepaths.” Josh’s expression soured. “Unless he talks.”

“Enough,” declared Tuzan. “Soleil’s plan is less risky than anything else we’ve thought of. Charrascos is a high-value asset. Brenner knows we can burn him. That ought to keep him quiet.”

Soleil shook her head and stalked away toward the hall. The hard choices of war should be on bloody battlefields, not in cozy home kitchens.

If Charrascos did return to class, she’d likely shake up the students anyway. Soleil hadn’t planned it, but her students were slowly on their way to becoming a community as the classes intermingled. With the charismatic Charrascos as a catalyst, they might become something more.

Whether that would be good or bad was anyone’s guess.

Chapter 10

Planet: Mabingion • GDAT 3242.193

The pretentious vaulted ceiling and crystalline walls of the Ridderth Council Hall echoed the amplified voice of the Council Leader.

“Does the honorable Citizen Protection Service Administrator wish to add verbal comments to the record?”

Jane Pennington-Smythe nodded and stood, discreetly tapping her earwire so her words would be picked up by the City Council meeting hall’s speakers and recorders. Everyone could easily and more safely attend remotely, but few did. Ridderth politicians preferred maneuvering in person, where the subtlest of cues — and minder talents — revealed hidden truths and opportunities.

She smiled slightly for the array of cameras, an expression she’d practiced in recent months. “This project demonstrates how galactic and local government partnerships serve the needs of our citizens.” As if improvising, she widened her smile and added, “I look forward to seeing you all at the building dedication ceremony and inaugural session of the Planetary Council.”

After nodding respectfully toward the governor and the council president, she sat and muted her earwire again.

The drafts in the large hall were worse than usual that evening. Fortunately, Jane’s nasal filters only let through occasional whiffs of the odd smells that were peculiar to old buildings. The City Council was unaccountably attached to its curvilinear historic architecture, despite its distinct lack of environmental comforts.

Too bad it wasn’t part of the joint renovation project for the Mabingion Planetary Council Headquarters building. That, at least, was gratifyingly modernized. Thanks to her hard work and skill, the former miserable disaster of a project would soon be a spectacular success.

Without her expertise and the resources of the CPS Minder Corps, the city and the continent of Ridderth would have lost out on twenty years of much-needed revenue from being the seat of the planetary government and all the ancillary business it generated. The weak planetary government relied far too heavily on the megacities to provide services that should have been centralized. They owed her. She’d be calling in the debt soon, before it slipped their minds.