Page 67 of Spark Transform

Kooga nodded and went on her way toward the back.

His fear of the storm was a pinprick compared to his fear for Arco and her team. Standing in the comparative privacy of the hall, he powered his percomp and checked for new pings. One message from an hour ago, Arco’s voice only.

“Left early to avoid the fireworks. Check your local percomp for the address. I’ll wait for you.”

The coordinates turned out to be a launch gate at the Ridderth spaceport. He memorized them, then turned off the percomp. Instinct urged him toward the media district, but logic asserted itself. The message meant she was already on the way. His best shot at connecting with her was at the spaceport.

Out in the main room, he put an empty liner in the bin. The feeling of being watched returned, but he didn’t have time to track it down. He picked up the new discarded mealpacks that had appeared while he’d been emptying the bag. Inspired, he opened the other liner bag and began working his way around the periphery, head down, scooping up recyclable trash. As usual, people unconsciously stepped out of his way, just like they did for a cleaning bot. Slowing as he got closer to the front doors, he kept an eye on them, waiting for his chance.

The universe granted him favor. Two snow-covered figures entered, pausing to stomp the snow off, right as a loud commotion in the courtyard captured their attention. He dropped the bag next to the wall and slipped through the still-open doors.

The snow had slacked off for the moment, but that wouldn’t last. He pulled on his snow hood, glad he hadn’t taken off his gloves, and headed out diagonally across the street. Easier going, since the road glass melted some of the snow from underneath, and no traffic to dodge, either.

The sooner he got to the skytrain platform, the better.

Fish shivered in her too-big coat, and not from cold. Violence was everywhere.

The tense mood in the Cyborg Queen’s lair pricked painfully against her sifter senses. Twenty people in Soleil’s studio were barely tolerable. More than a hundred made her eyes water from the effort to keep her talent contained. And too many of them she recognized as coming from rival crews — Durango, Arganov, Bèishàng Liègou, even a few Wutala.

Everyone knew the Cyborg Queen would mercilessly eject troublemakers into the storm, but some people, like her fungus-for-brains, liar brother, thought they were special. She wouldn’t be there at all, except she was hoping Mags was hungry. They’d gone to her crib, but it was two days dusted. The girl moved more often than a hummingbird.

Fish had already asked the Queen to tell Mags that Devonner was waiting for her at the studio. That would get Mags’ attention because Fish knew the girl sparked for him. She also gave the Queen the direct ping ref for her flashy new percomp and a frac to pay for someone to lend Mags an earwire. The girl’s murderous father repaired tech for a living, so she was terrified he’d track her if she carried any tech at all.

Fish could relate to that kind of mind-numbing fear. If she hadn’t found Soleil’s pay-what-you-can studio eight months ago, she’d probably be dead, or worse. Soleil taught her how to fight when her brother used her for a punching bag, but more importantly, she taught her how to avoid fighting and pick her battles. She’d found so much more. Jumpers who looked out for each other, kids who needed looking out for, an outlet for all her energy, and a safe place to figure out what her sifter talent was all about. As far as Fish was concerned, Soleil set the planets in motion.

Fish had been ready to head back to the tunnels when she’d seen Brenner putting a bag in the bin. When he started limping around with the other bag, picking up empty mealpacks, she remembered he’d said something about being a janitor. She tracked him, but didn’t know what to do. Last she saw, he’d been unconscious in the studio’s autodoc. Why was he here instead of at the studio or with Arco?

Worse, she didn’t know if Brenner had passed the screening for the lift-off party. Best she could do was get him alone and tell him to ping the studio. She and the other kids had to be hiding on that ship before the adults got there.

Just as she got close enough to catch his attention without anyone noticing, he bolted out the front doors behind two new arrivals, both rampers, probably crew.

Frelling hell. She slid into the shadows, watching the newcomers, willing them to move away from the doors and go see what the shouting was all about.

Instead, another person, face hidden in a red-striped distortion hood, came to meet them. A sifter. Maybe a telepath, too.

Fish pulled back her talent fast and imagined an ice wall, like how nulls felt to her.

For a long minute, they talked quietly and shook heads. Their gestures were small until the sifter pointed to the front doors, and they all turned to look.

One of the newcomers lifted his snow mask to tap an earwire, then subvocalized into it. Two heartbeats later, he nodded. That seemed to be the cue for all of them to walk purposefully out the doors and into the snowy twilight. She knew hunters when she saw them, and she recognized the hunter with the earwire as a Wutala. Brenner needed to know. He could be their target. She dodged through the doors right as they were closing.

Staying as close as she dared, she followed them as they followed a recently blazed trail that led diagonally across the street. With the wind at their backs, they’d have to turn and look into blinding snow to see her.

She hesitated at the corner they’d just disappeared around. Her only defense against three adults was the ability to scream louder than a flux engine on overload. But that only worked if Cyborg Queen could hear her.

A blast of uncontained talent and the haze of violence froze her in place. Shaking it off, she flattened herself against the building wall and peeked around the corner.

The two rampers grappled with Brenner in the snow. The sifter held a stunner in one gloved hand and frantically tried to pull off the other glove with her teeth.

Unknown talent flared hot against Fish’s senses.

The sifter screamed in pain when the stunner suddenly exploded in her hand. One of the attacking rampers went limp. The other yowled like he’d been stabbed but hung onto Brenner.

From out of nowhere, a sleek flitter dropped out of the sky and landed on the snowy street. Two people in gray snowsuits jumped out, each carrying riot-sized stunners.

They each shot Brenner, leaving him twitching like land-stranded carp.

The female sifter let out a string of curses as she plunged her burned hand into the snow.