Chapter 6 #2
She led him past the main kitchen to the tiny office cubes, stacked three high with airglide lifts for access to the narrow walkways. Luck gave her one of the bottom-level spaces, third from the end.
“Home, until we vacate.” She opened her coat to get at her sling bag so she could hand him a cool water pouch and a still-warm wrap. “Breakfast.” He’d said he’d eat anything, so she was putting that to the test.
She draped her coat over the far chair and waved her hand over the control that made the desk extend so they’d have a surface to eat on.
After she set the wall glass to semi-private, she unfolded her tablet so it could automatically sync to the four holo displays.
The first bite of smoke-kissed vegetable protein and spiced, cheesy egg curds wrapped in tangy flatbread tasted heavenly.
Brenner kept his coat on and sat as if he didn’t trust the chair. He bolted down his food without comment, warily keeping an eye on both her and the open doorway.
The previous evening at her new home had been equally interesting.
He’d prowled around the quasi-residential complex and her leased three-story townhouse, looking for vulnerabilities. She’d authorized him to use the house comp, the rooftop garage and stacker, and her newly-leased secure flitter. He’d quizzed her about her schedule for the next few days.
When he’d requested monitoring equipment, he’d seemed surprised when she’d readily agreed and purchased it for next-day delivery to Novo G’s offices. She also gave him an anonymous cashflow chip so he could buy weapons and clothes that wouldn’t get him rousted as a rioter.
He’d disappeared for several hours, then returned with a beat-up sling bag and wearing a non-wrinkle business-style tunic, pants, spare boots, and a patched raincoat. She suspected it might be the sum total of his worldly goods.
She wasn’t much better. The life of a nomadic independent journalist left no room for clutter.
In nine months on Ridderth, she’d accumulated a few more tech toys, but that was it.
She recycled wardrobes as often as she altered her looks.
Even if they combined their resources, she and Brenner looked like break-in squatters who camped out in the two second-floor bedrooms to hide from security checks.
The only room that really looked lived in was the third-floor loft, where she’d set up her tech when she’d moved in the day before.
Having a dozen high-res holos displayed at once was a pleasure, but she could work with only her percomp’s holodisplay if she had to.
Often had, back when she started. Only prolific publication under multiple alternate identities had kept her from starving while she built up a steady income.
And look at her now, with a minor following for Arco Charrascos, living the high-glide, glossy life in a Novo G stringer cube.
When they finished eating breakfast, she took him on a quick tour of the rest of the floor, ending up back at her temporary desk.
“I need thirty minutes here. Then we’ll go get you listed with Novo G’s security and introduce you around.”
Her previous security team had found ways to entertain themselves while she worked, but Brenner didn’t seem to know what to do with himself.
He took off his coat, then eyed the office doorway and the chair several times.
Finally, he pushed the chair closer to the doorway, draped the coat on the back, and stood next to it instead of sitting.
She nodded at him, then set a timer for herself before diving into the streams of data in her customized queues. Even though she was going claustro-crazy, breathing recycled air and never tasting the rain, she shifted more tasks and appointments to keep her prudently indoors for another day.
The rating trends said her readers really liked the “where are they now” series about the Jumper squadron she’d first profiled years ago.
Fans found the Ridderth political corruption stories tedious.
Honestly, so did she. They never seemed to change.
But with the right teasers and hooks, people read the full stories, and Arco Charrascos got paid.
Her various active pen names were selling as usual, with no notable blips or dips.
Which was unexpected, considering how badly she’d neglected them in the past year.
A subscription data-diver service posed intriguing questions based on a mysterious hypercube of current CPS minder health data they’d found in the public records of an obscure regional government ministry on a far-flung planet.
She paid the fee for the full report and sent it to her private reference space.
In checking Novo G’s story register, she was struck by how much it had grown and diversified in the ten-day she’d been off planet.
Even if her finder talent wasn’t already telling her the city was headed for troubled times, the burgeoning register would have.
The rest of the city’s economy might be abysmal, but the media business’s economy was booming.
Tapio, Novo G’s managing owner, tagged her with two potential collaborations, so she added herself to his next available time slot.
He’d recently celebrated his hundred-year anniversary as a top journalist, and she respected the hell out of his patience and sense of timing.
He once sat on an epic story for two Standard years, waiting for the perfect release window.
The profits could have bought him an interstellar racing yacht.
Instead, he’d bought most of the media company that employed him and became a media mogul. Now he could afford ten yachts a month.
She sorted and tagged her incoming tip line, flagging pings from fans she needed to read and answer.
Journalists liked to complain about having to engage with readers, but some of her best stories came from them, including the Charisma project that had brought her back to Ridderth in the first place.
Her timer blinked. She knew better than to ignore it. As it was, when she stood, her legs felt stiff and tingly. She had a bad habit of folding them under her and forgetting to move. Especially when stuck indoors.
She stomped her feet awake and eyed Brenner’s well-defined biceps, outlined by his navy undertunic. “Do you have a gym or somewhere you go for exercise?”
Brenner stood, his expression unreadable. “Why?”
“Because I need exercise most days or I get cranky, and I’ve been cooped up here for three days. Novo G’s gym stinks, and I can’t go back to any of the studios I’ve used in the past.” She shrugged. “I thought it’d be easier if I went to one you know and trust.”
His eyebrow twitched. “I’ll ask, but they might tell you to sod off.” He crossed his arms. “You’re famous, and could be bringing killers to their door.”