Page 87 of Spark Transform

“I know.” Arco rested her head against his chest again. “It scares me, to be honest. I have money saved with no ties to my former empire, but no more income. I also found another Davidro account to drain, so you have more money now, too. It’s a drop in the ocean compared to what you deserve, but it will keep you from starving.”

“What is really important to you?” Renner asked. Neirra used to ask him that same question a lot. It had infuriated him back then. Now, he recognized its importance.

Arco fell silent, her expression unreadable. “I want to be safe with you. But I don’t know where that is. People are… tense. The CPS’s stupidity will ripple out for years.” She looked up at him. “What’s important to you?”

“Besides keeping you safe?” Renner shook his head. “I tank at plans, but I probably need one.”

“I’m a workaholic, maybe out of habit. Or maybe guilt.” She snorted in amusement. “Atonement makes a terrible long-term career goal.”

That hit home for Renner. “I can’t say that vengeance is any better.”

He twitched slightly when Soleil’s voice came over his earwire. “Seven minutes to jump. No traffic, and no patrols. Engines are green-go. See you in transit.”

Renner checked the clock display on the wall. The ship must be operating on standard GDAT time because there was absolutely zero chance it was noon back in Ridderth. He mentally thanked whoever had installed the displays throughout the ship.

He cocooned Arco more tightly in his embrace. An unfamiliar but welcome peace seeped into his bones. “We have time. We will figure it out.”

Chapter 30

Freighter MP95599, Interstellar: Day 3 • GDAT 3242.232

Arco finished the last bite of her mealpack and leaned back against the bench. The second lunch shift was finally clearing out of the common room. The space, otherwise known as Cargo Hold Bravo, served as the freighter’s dining hall, meeting room, and general recreation area.

She smiled at the sight of Fish convincing four younger children that picking up spilled metal fasteners was a delightful game. Giselle, Fish’s fiercely loyal shadow, added silly dance moves to accompany each fastener dropped back into the plastic container. Brenner sat beside Arco on the bench, watching everyone while seeming not to.

They shared a rectangular collapsible table with Soleil, Josh, Rustom, Haseem, Minan, N’Dwama, Tōn Ko, and Nilsson. Despite the chilly air in the hold, it smelled like an outdoor hot-food market.

Soleil had sourced a massive quantity and a wide variety of mealpacks before their hasty departure. She obviously knew her students. The retired Jumpers easily consumed two or three packs at a single sitting. The freighter’s tiny galley kitchen was laughably inadequate for even a basic flight crew, and completely useless in feeding sixty passengers.

Rustom leaned forward on his elbows, which made his shoulders look even wider than they already were. “Captain, do we have power, water, and funds to buy more clothes sanitizers? I’m thinkin’ three commercial or six hostel size. The bigger families are fightin’ over the two we have now.” He pushed the mealpack’s fork into its slot and stacked the empty container on top of his other two. “If we get them at a good price when we land on Cypralia tomorrow, we can sell ‘em for a profit to a space station. Or save ‘em for an indie trader fair and to trade for things we don’t want a receipt trail for.”

Soleil nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I think so, but check with Solomon first. One of our filtration units might be malfing.”

Arco found herself thoroughly enjoying the crash course in practical ship operations. She had traveled extensively as a passenger on commercial transports and on a couple of luxury liners. The behind-the-scenes logistics of keeping a ship and its occupants functioning were fascinating.

A few passengers grumbled about the cramped accommodations, because some people were naturally gratitude-challenged. Arco preferred to think of the battered freighter as a boutique cruise liner for the budget-minded. The tiny rooms were “cabins,” the cramped nav pod was the “Captain’s deck,” and the cavernous common room offered scheduled “seatings” for dining.

A day ago, Soleil had dropped the ship out of transit space just long enough to download a massive backlog of comms packets. They would be able to get full, live communications again once they entered realspace in the Cypralia system tomorrow. The CGC’s galactic communications net used transit space for near-instant message delivery across the galaxy. Sadly, no one had yet figured out how a ship actively moving through transit space could access that same network.

“Any sparks from Andromeda?” Tōn Ko asked. He quoted the popular song lyrics with a wry smile, pointing a finger at Arco’s pink tablet resting on the table beside her elbow.

Arco shook her head. “No. The newstrends are mostly full of catastrophe farming right now.”

N’Dwama paused with her drink halfway to her mouth. “They’re what?”

“Low substance, high word count stories focusing on the Mabingion mess and the rest of the chaos the CPS is causing,” Arco explained. “Throwaway publish-and-run content for the purpose of generating fast revenue. We’ll be able to source more reliable information tomorrow when we reach Cypralia.”

Josh frowned. “When you said you were changing your name, I didn’t realize how serious you were. I was checking mortality lists, though they’re admittedly untrustworthy right now. I came across your farewell article. It’s very good.” He’d been noticeably subdued since the packet pickup. Arco wondered if the mortality lists had names he knew.

“Thanks. I owed closure to Arco’s fans and subscribers.” She traced the edge of her tablet. “The first serious death threat I received about seven or eight years ago made me realize I might need to disappear someday. Or that I might actually be dead. I didn’t want to leave a mess. My final-exit plan automatically transferred my intellectual property to my co-authors or designated charities. Right before we launched, I transferred my story register directly to Tapio and Novo Granica Media, with a request that they publish my ‘see you in the next reality’ letter.”

Minan rested her chin on her hand. “What name should we be calling you, then?”

“We may as well stick with ‘Arco’ for now,” Arco said. “It’s common enough. I’ll pick a new name once I visit a bodyshop to change my look again. But first, I need to find a new identity service. The rumors say CPS employees are leaving their posts in droves. The market is about to be flooded with scammers selling identities that will blow away at the first checkpoint.” Brenner had said he’d need a new identity, too. This time, he didn’t need her help with that.

Josh leaned forward, the light catching his differently colored eyes. “We know a very good provider. They can handle new records for everyone on board if needed. They can also help make sure your death notice gets transmitted securely throughout the CGC.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Arco saw Soleil cover a slight smile with a napkin. Arco’s finder talent had remained blissfully dormant for days. She had spent the time sleeping deeply, cuddling with Brenner, and wondering if she had committed an egregious error in burning down her entire journalism platform. Now, her talent flared and insisted that Josh, who had apparently altered the freighter’s records on the fly to convince Mabingion Spaceport control that they were another ship entirely, was actually the provider himself.