Chapter 25
Renner woke to a jolt. His head felt like it was made of denscrete.
“Ram my ankles one more time,” snarled a female’s voice, “and I’ll shoot you and put you in the capsule, too.”
Strobing lights hurt his eyes, but he couldn’t seem to open his eyelids. Was he back in the medical center?
“I know your hand hurts, but don’t take it out on me. And don’t walk in front of me.” The Slavic-accented male voice sounded closer. “This fucking sled needs two people. Where is Dimud?”
Tingling began in his fingers and toes, spreading up his limbs and into his core. He hadn’t felt it in several years, but he knew the sensation. The rage monster rattled its cage. Who the fuck had stunned him?
“Checking if the launch window is — look out!”
A jarring crash sent Renner rolling sideways and downward into a padded surface. The smell of dust assaulted his nose. His legs and arms flopped uncontrollably, but at least he could feel it happening.
“Oh, we’re very sorry, sir.” The female’s voice rose to high-pitched, breathless distress. “Darling, help her re-stack her bags.”
“Freight sleds,” said a sharp, condescending mid-range voice, “are not allowed in the passenger section.”
“Yes, sir, we know, sir,” said the male’s voice. “All the gravcarts were taken, and the snow made us late.”
Renner heard a thump. “Be careful with that!” snapped the sharp voice.
Snow? Memories tumbled in. On his way to the spaceport to meet Arco, he’d been ambushed after leaving the soup kitchen. Zapped two with his talent and exploded a hand weapon. Took two stunner shots in the back, then oblivion.
Cautiously, he snaked out a tendril of talent, but he could barely sense anything electrical. He chafed at the unavoidable need for more time to recover.
Pick your battles, reminded the sly voice in his head.
“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.
A rush of ice took his breath away, then made him sweat like a sponge squeezed tight. His heart tried to claw its way out of his chest. Time stretched to infinity as the rage monster and the happy butterflies brawled, heedless of his already bruised brain cells.
Lights blinked overhead. Soft alert tones sounded, followed by the spaceport’s pleasant synth voice announcing further launch delays.
The male voice growled what was probably a vicious oath. “I’m going home tonight if I have to steal a snowplow.”
“Your funeral.” The warning in the female’s voice made it clear she wouldn’t be with him.
The male grunted.
“Dimud wants to know how long until we get there.” The female’s voice now sounded quite close.
“Twenty minutes, unless they want to get off their fat ass and come help drive this thing,” said the male with distinct irritation. “They better damn well be prepping the container for launch.”
Another wave of ice flushed through Renner, this time in his belly, turning his guts inside out. Acid bloomed in the back of his throat. He tightened his jaw against any ideas his stomach might have about expelling its contents.
Fuck, but he was tired of fighting every day just to survive. Maybe he should just wait for the chance to take out as many enemies as he could before they killed him. Too bad it wouldn’t be the CPS instead of a crew just trying to make a living.
But it wouldn’t be much of a death worth dying for. And he’d be breaking his vow to protect Arco if he gave up now. The rage monster stomped on the last of the happy butterflies.
He had twenty minutes to recover from the inhib side effects, get his body back, and regain the use of his talent. The universe fucking hated him.
Arco took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Once again, she regretted not having temporary nasal filters installed to deal with the eye-watering smells of Ridderth.
The Ridderth spaceport was always a chaotic mess on its best days, but the century cyclone had turned it into a full-blown madhouse.
Navigating the through the crowds of unhappy passengers to get to the commercial shipping and freight terminal with her team felt like moving through a hostile, high-gravity environment.
The freight terminal had few people but more logjams of automated carts that randomly blocked the wide corridors, and frazzled spaceport staff offered nothing but useless shrugs to the shipping employees trying to get answers.
Thanks to Minan’s relentless poking at the public transit systems, they had arrived ninety minutes early for the meeting with Wutala.
Arco used the time to deploy her flock of micro-cameras, hiding them among the buzzing advertising bots and children’s flying toys that littered the terminal’s airspace to scope out the specified dock.
The rent-a-pad section was cheap for a reason.
The dock space walls didn’t quite reach the ceiling, bleeding noise and even more unpleasant odors from neighboring pads.
If you wanted privacy, amenities, or loading help, you paid double for the high-rent tier.
Arco hadn’t been able to reconfirm her ride off the planet since arriving, and the relentless synth-voice announcements of weather delays gnawed at her abused nervous system.
Her ride was supposed to be waiting at the pad directly adjacent to Gezi Wutala’s coordinates.
She wrestled with the uncomfortable suspicion that Wutala knew about it.
Adding to Arco’s anxiety, a muffled crash outside the building just before they arrived had set the terminal on edge, fueling rumors of downed ships or terrorist attacks.