Page 72 of Spark Transform

“There, that’s got it,” said the male voice. “Safe travels, sir.”

With concentrated effort, Renner managed to open his eyes. A small victory, but he’d take it. Too bad all he could see was a dark cloth surface about ten centimeters from his nose. Something in his box was glowing, or he wouldn’t see anything at all. The cushion under his face smelled like burnt grease.

Turning his head would help, but his body wasn’t listening to him. It reminded him of what the ex-Jumpers in Soleil’s class said waster’s disease felt like. Maybe he should visualize his intent and the move—

“We’re clear,” said the female. “You need help with the capsule?”

“Nyi. I got it,” said the male.

Renner’s world tilted back to level.

“Lemme check the contents,” said the female. “Might have shifted.”

A beam of light flashed. Renner snapped his eyes shut.

“Undamaged,” said the female. “Might be close to waking.”

“Loop him,” said the male. “Can’t trust hostiles. Moonshot hostiles, especially.”

Chilly fingers touched the side of Renner’s neck.

Waves of languor stole over him. The female’s sifter talent flooded his brain receptors, kneecapping his rage monster and smothering his worries with a thousand happy butterflies.

The fingers lifted. The cheerful light dimmed, but overhead lights winked saucily at him as the sled started up again.

The tingling in his limbs sharpened into pinpricks. Nothing else he could do but ride it out as his nerves came online. Wiggling his toes in his boots amused the butterflies, so he did it several times. His fingers twitched to an unheard beat.

Soft alert tones sounded, followed by a pleasant synth voice announcement. “The Ridderth Spaceport Administration apologizes for the weather-related delays. Pads are being cleared. Launches will resume shortly.” The announcement was repeated in other languages.

Happiness blossomed. Amazing, blazing Arco would be at the spaceport. Not very nice of the universe to put him in the right place but in the wrong hands.

Oddly, a stray memory drifted by, of giving Arco a patch and a jet. “Inhib,” he’d told her. She’d given him a puzzled look, but willingly taken them. Even back then, her trust had been softening the incalloy shielding around his heart.

Once again, he’d been too cowardly to tell a woman how he felt about her. Considering his present predicament, the malicious universe wasn’t likely to give him a third chance.

A voice in his head whispered something about inhib rebooting neuroreceptors. Had Neirra told him that? She’d taught him so many things.

It slowly dawned on him that his chest pocket held an inhib patch. If it was still there.

“This passenger terminal is longer than a marathon track,’’ groused the female. “And what the hell’s with shutting down the commercial transport trains?”

“Snow, probably.” The male grunted. “This is a fucking bear to handle alone. I gotta rest a minute.”

“Okay. I’ll ping Dimud for news.”

The winking overhead lights slowed to a stop. Renner closed his eyes so he could listen to his body.

Beyond the almost unbearable tingling, he felt his fingers curl when he tried to make a fist with his right hand. He missed his warm gloves. That whole side of his body felt cold. Which made sense, since he was still lying on his left side.

His floppy hand encountered a familiar edge that felt like his cloak. He used his fingers to pull the dead weight of his right arm up toward his chest. It reminded him of a children’s song about climbing to the stars on stairs made of snowflakes. The happy butterflies liked sentimental music.

After much fumbling, two clumsy fingers finally scissored into the pocket and slowly extracted the inhib patch. The frustrating effort to peel back the patch’s cover threatened to squash the happy butterflies.

“Dimud says we’ll be holding the package in the office,” said the female voice. “The chief is coming herself.” The voice sounded farther away than before.

“As if this day isn’t already special enough.” Disgruntlement laced the male’s voice. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Renner’s wrist twisted painfully as the capsule jostled his elbow, but it forced the business side of the patch onto the exposed palm of his hand. The patch obligingly inserted microneedles into his skin and injected the inhib dose.