Chapter 14

Making the flower left Jonesy way too tired to keep training, so she and Cass packed up and hiked back to the Jinx. Jonesy spent the walk admiring her flower.

Cass served Jonesy her first gray-green smoothie as soon as they’d unpacked and washed up. “Congrats, sis,” she said as she ordered a second pitcher for herself. “You’re a real Fluxer now. I told you this’d be you pretty soon, didn’t I?”

Cass’s smoothie recipe was oatmeal-thick and tasted like drinking a salad with vanilla dressing. Jonesy sort of liked it, though, and she was too hungry to mind the color. Cass cranked some celebratory boomstep while they finished their pitchers, but one helping left Jonesy so full and sleepy she almost passed out during the artillery solo from RooshRoosh’s Wedding Suite in G. She barely noticed when Cass carried her to her bunk.

Jonesy slept hard after all the training, but in the last three years she’d never once slept hard enough to have no dreams, and that night was no exception. Like most nights since her friends’ kidnapping, most of them featured Norcross somehow, stalking her through the hideout or watching her from screens or suddenly replacing people when she wasn’t looking. Once, though, for the first time, she dreamed he caught her. She screamed at him to give her friends back, but he pushed her into a corner and yelled MAKE ME, so she Keyed—but her hands just sprinkled little glass flowers all over the floor. She broke into helpless tears as the hideout shuddered with Norcross’s laughter. Then she was suddenly back in salvage training, struggling to pry open a panel with her U-Tool screwdriver, and Rook was showing her how sometimes it just took a little twist, except it wasn’t a panel but her gates. They burst open, and she and Rook and Norcross all vanished together in a white-hot flash.

Her eyes snapped open in the darkness, and she threw off her covers with a gasp—but her hands weren’t glowing, and when she peeked into her dark place, her gates were barely glimmering. She rolled over and closed her eyes, hoping that might be the last time she dreamed about Norcross.

She didn’t get her wish.

She awoke in the morning half an hour before Cass’s wake-up time. She could have rolled over, but she’d had enough Norcross for one night. Then she had a wonderful idea to take her mind off him and surprised her sister with breakfast in bed. The last time she’d done that had been Cass’s fifteenth birthday. Picking the recipe from the Jinx’s autocooker menu wasn’t like cooking for real in Mom’s old kitchen, but it still made Cass smile and cry a little—and she could even eat it this time, because the autocooker didn’t burn the eggs or pick the wrong measuring spoon for the salt.

They ate breakfast in Cass’s cabin, chatting and laughing about old birthdays and Mom’s desserts and especially yesterday’s training. Jonesy couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Cass so excited. Cass made it sound like casting a perfect sand sculpture on your first day of training was as amazing and borderline weird as playing a perfect sonata the first time you touched a piano. Last night, she’d even put Jonesy’s flower in the fabricator and sealed it in a block of clear resin so it could never break, and now it was sticky-taped to the Jinx’s dining table for a centerpiece.

Jonesy wouldn’t have minded a bit, except the flower seemed to have made Cass forget all about her troubles with Keying. Now Cass wanted to focus on teaching her small, tricky things. And while she did want to learn all the tricky techniques Cass described over breakfast, the conversation mainly got her seriously worried that Cass wouldn’t even bother with the training she really needed before they got to the good guys—if she wanted to help her friends, at least. She could tell Cass felt like a really good coach for realizing she should try the flower, though, and she couldn’t figure out how to say she’d rather practice floating rocks without sounding whiny or ungrateful. She thought and thought while they packed up to leave, but she hadn’t found the right words before it was time to go.

Then she lost her chance. Right as they were about to step into the airlock, an alarm chirped in the cockpit and the flight computer said, “OTH has an inbound contact. Small ISC. No ID. Course is direct intercept. ETA is nine minutes fourteen.”

“Crap,” Cass hissed. “Somebody’s coming. Cross your fingers that it’s not trouble.”

Jonesy crossed her fingers and followed Cass up to the cockpit. “You mean like pirates?”

“Pirates, police, anybody. Doesn’t matter.”

“But—why would the police be mad at us? We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“If the police spot you and you’ve got a ship as sneaky as mine, you don’t have to do anything—oh, huh!” Cass tapped a report on one of her screens. “Good finger-crossing. It’s my contact.”

Jonesy frowned. “You said we were a few days early!”

“We were a few days early.” Cass sounded puzzled. “He’s just early, too. No worries, though. We can train as soon as he’s gone. And you don’t have to stay on the ship this time if you don’t want to.”

“Okay, good.”

They went outside to watch the other ship fly in. It blasted in fast and low over the red desert and circled their landing site before dropping in to land near the Jinx with a roar of jets and a huge red dust cloud.

The new ship was about the same size as the Jinx, but it was red and curvy instead of black and angular. It had chrome trim and a nose ornament Jonesy recognized from commercials for luxury spaceships, but it looked like an old model. Not old enough to look cool and old-fashioned, though, just enough to look weird and a bit ugly, like the ships from her dad’s favorite spy movies. She couldn’t help wincing when its airlock hatch folded open with a loud, sad grinding noise.

The man who climbed out was skinny and sweat-stained, with long, dirty-blond hair and whiskery cheeks. At his hip was what looked like a black, brand-new gun holster, except it had a small red drone tucked into it instead of a pistol.

“Ghost Hawk!”

“Heya, Whistler! Gave us a scare, there!”

“Sorry, sorry,” the man named Whistler called. “Thanks for not blasting me out of the sky for it.” He wore a big, friendly smile as he joined them under the Jinx’s holo-camouflage, but Jonesy didn’t like it. It made her think of grown-ups like her old neighbor who acted like everything you said was amazing but didn’t actually listen.

Cass glanced over Whistler’s filthy shirt with a wry grin. “Still haven’t fixed that cabin cooling system?”

“Parts is scarce and dealers is crooks, darling,” Whistler replied, throwing up his hands.

“And what’s with the gunbuddy? Thought you said you didn’t trust those things.”

“Oh, this?” Whistler looked down at his holstered drone like he was surprised to see it. “Just—changing times, price of doing business. Couldn’t resist, anyway—she’s premarket, got her for a song off an old contact in that Ganrat-Pegasus JV. Clever as anything, too. Just watch. Penelope, survey.”

The little red drone zoomed out of his holster and flew several loops around him before settling in behind his shoulder. “Three individuals within scan range,” it announced. “No other weapons detected. Advisory: sensors are unable to penetrate one starcraft nearby.”

Now that it wasn’t holstered or zooming around, Jonesy saw that the little drone looked like a lumpy sort of pistol with a sensor head instead of a grip, hovering upright with its muzzle aimed at the ground.

“Nice toy,” Cass said.

“She can trash drones with her brain,” Jonesy explained, partly (but not entirely) because Whistler looked disappointed that Cass wasn’t more impressed. “And stop bullets.”

“But it’s not polite to brag,” Cass said, with a familiar tone Jonesy remembered ignoring a lot when she was little.

Whistler’s smile gave a nervous twitch, but then he laughed. “Wouldn’t doubt it for a second,” he said. “Penelope, home.” The little red drone zoomed back to his holster. “Anyhow, Ghost Hawk,” he went on, with a wink at Jonesy, “either this is your sister or I’m a pickled pig. What’s your code name, sweetheart?”

“I don’t have one,” Jonesy said instead of blurting out her name, since ignoring Cass’s tone this time seemed like a bad idea. “I haven’t thought of one yet.”

“That’s all right. Good to meet you.”

He stuck out his hand. Jonesy glanced at the red gun-drone in his holster, and her gates gave an anxious pulse like they had with the pirates—except this time, after all her practice yesterday, she held them shut with ease. I’m the boss of you now, she told them in the dark place as she reached out and shook with Whistler.

“Nice to meet you, Mister Whistler,” she said, which was technically a lie, but she was being polite, so it didn’t count. “Um, your ship—”

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Whistler interrupted, beaming. “You like her?”

“I—well—I think you should maybe replace the actuator for your airlock hatch.”

Whistler laughed again. “What makes you say that?”

“It sounds like our hideout’s airlock hatch did before it broke.”

Whistler looked surprised, then worried. “Well, I hope you’re wrong, kid,” he said. “You have any idea what servicing a BSW 34-Series costs?”

“I don’t know,” Jonesy said. “Is it a lot? Is that why you don’t?”

Whistler’s eyes widened until they looked ready to pop out. He slapped his thigh and laughed a long, wheezy laugh. “I like this kid,” he told Cass. “So, Ghost Hawk Junior, can you do all that spooky, glowy stuff like your big sister, here? I’ll bet you can, right?”

Cass cleared her throat in an impatient sort of way. “Listen, Whistler. We’ve got a big day planned, okay?”

Whistler blanched and raised his hands like she’d drawn a gun on him. “Hey, no problem. All business, no problem. You’ve got the package?”

Cass pulled a gray packet from her pocket. “Right here. You’ve got the money?”

Whistler pulled out an expensive-looking Halcyon terminal. “Right here. Untraceable to the latest TCC standards per the contract.”

Cass got out her own terminal and ticked a checklist item. “What’s the currency mix?”

“One quarter each AFC, American, and Chinese, and then a nice grab-bag of unregulated cryptos. Just what I had floating around. Work for you?”

“Works for me,” Cass said, ticking a few more things on her checklist.

Jonesy backed away from Whistler to wait behind her sister while Cass turned over the gray packet and Whistler transferred the money from his terminal to Cass’s.

“So how’d you manage to show up early for once?” Cass asked when they were done.

“Just trying to keep my partners happy,” Whistler said, pulling out a small case. “Had to be sure I caught you this time. Lazarus gave me something to pass along to you.” He popped the case open, removed a tiny black chip, and dropped it in Cass’s hand. “Said it was important.”

Cass frowned at the chip, then at Whistler. “Laz gave you this? What is it?”

Whistler shrugged. “Think I could read your mail if I wanted to? Anyway, he told me to tell you—what was it? Thorn, bell, Ulysses, triplicate—ah, ah—camphor. Right.” He swallowed, then smiled at Cass. “Right? Means something to you?”

Cass nodded and dropped the chip in her pocket. “Thanks,” she said. “That it?”

Whistler hesitated, looking askance at Jonesy in a way that gave her a strange feeling he wished she wasn’t there. “So,” he said, “is this a take-your-siblings-to-work-day sort of thing, or what? Back to school tomorrow, right?”

“More of a can’t-tell-you-have-to-kill-you sort of thing,” Cass said. “We done?”

“Yeah, I’m—we’re done. I’ll see you two around.”

“I hope you have a good day,” Jonesy offered, which (again) was polite and didn’t count. All Whistler gave in return was a brittle smile and a vague little wave before he turned away, hurried back to his red ship, and swung up into the airlock.

“Well, somebody’s in a rush all of a sudden,” Cass said.

“I wish he’d been in a rush to start with,” Jonesy said.

“Yeah? Why?”

Jonesy couldn’t reply right away, because the red ship’s landing jets roared, and it lifted off with another billowing red dust cloud.

“BECAUSE NOW WE CAN GO TRAIN!” she shouted once the ship was high enough to hear each other over the jets. “And—and because I didn’t like him. He was acting weird!”

“Nah, that was pretty normal for Whistler. It’s okay.”

“No,” Jonesy insisted. “You thought he was being weird, too. Didn’t you? What about that gunbuddy drone?”

Cass put her hands on her hips and watched the red ship streak away over the desert. “I’m just used to it, I guess. People act weird when they’re scared, and he’s definitely scared of me.”

“Why?”

“Mostly because he tried hitting on me, once,” Cass said, grinning, “and I hit back. I mean, you’re right, that was a bit more—I don’t know. I was a little weirded out that he had something from Lazarus, but he couldn’t have known that code unless Lazarus trusted him to give it to me.”

“Who’s Lazarus? Is that another code name?”

“Yeah. He’s another super-secret Dexei courier like me.”

“Oh, okay.” Jonesy thought for a second. “Do you have to use your code name once you graduate?”

Cass laughed like she knew exactly why Jonesy was asking. “You do with anyone outside Dexei, yeah, but you’ve got plenty of time to figure out a cool one. If you don’t like Ghost Hawk Junior, I mean.”

Jonesy made a face. “No, it would just remind me of Whistler,” she said. “Is he a super-secret courier, too?”

“No, he’s just somebody we work with sometimes when we need to sell stuff all sneaky-like.” Cass took the black chip out and stuck it in her terminal. “Let that decrypt a second. As far as training today—I know I was talking about all the clever little stuff over breakfast, but as long as we’re here with this great big sandbox to play with, I’m thinking we should start with something a little more fun that’ll help you be efficient in a fight. Plus safer, for bonus points. How’s learning to stop bullets sound?”

“Like that bullet manifold thing you made?”

“And smack into my trap. Think efficiency, sis. Smart Fluxers never do more work than they have to, especially in a fight. Which do you think would be less work if someone was shooting at you—a big, tricky, mirrored manifold with a bridge boosted enough to stop bullets, or a hatch you just ripped out of a wall?”

“The hatch?” Jonesy guessed. “But why didn’t you do that in the impound hangar, then?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I knew turrets in an impound hangar would be loaded for blasting armored spaceships.”

Jonesy giggled. “Smart Fluxers probably don’t run through the impound hangar, maybe.”

“Punk,” Cass snapped, then laughed. “But yeah, not if they can help it. Anyway, this place is a little short of hatches and walls, so we’ll go build giant sandcastles instead.”

“Nice!” Jonesy exclaimed.

Cass’s terminal dinged in her pocket, and she pulled it out. Her eyes widened as she read the message. “Huh,” she muttered. “Uh, wow.”

“What?” Jonesy asked. “Is it bad?”

“No. Well, yes. Sort of. Um.” Cass puffed her cheeks and blew out a big breath. “They need me to change my schedule a bit.”

“But we’ll still have time for training, right?”

Cass shook her head. “My stop after next is changing. And it’s sooner. We need to leave right now. Jinx, prep all systems for rapid dustoff.”

“That jerk,” Jonesy exclaimed as the Jinx acknowledged and began to hum and whine in a low, rising chorus. “Why did he have to come early? How do you know he didn’t make it up?”

“Nobody made this up,” Cass said, gesturing at her terminal. “Especially not Whistler. Trust me. I know you thought he was acting weird and stuff, but I’m really not worried about it. It’s actually a good thing he was early.”

Jonesy sniffed. “Why?”

“Because—well, mainly because people might get hurt if we’re late. I’d tell you more if I could, all right?”

Jonesy squinted in the direction Whistler’s red BSW had gone, over all the red sand she wouldn’t get to turn into giant castles with Cass today. “Okay,” she said. “If you say so, then I–I–I trust you.”

She sniffed and started crying.

“Hey, hey, hey. Just because we have to leave doesn’t mean we’re done training.”

“But you said no Fluxing on your ship!” Jonesy sobbed. “You said I might blow it up!”

“That was when you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“So I can practice on the Jinx?” Jonesy wiped her cheeks and grinned. “Okay. Okay! I promise I’ll try not to explode anything.”

Cass grinned back. “I’m not worried about it.”

Jonesy giggled, then realized what Cass meant and stopped. “Because I can’t Key open enough yet.”

Cass didn’t seem to notice her sudden disappointment. “Yeah, I don’t think you’ll be blowing up my ship anytime soon. Good thing, too—if you were only good at the stuff I was when I started, I’d be tempted to tranq you. Never thought I’d say it, but I think I finally get how Mom felt when she realized she’d have to keep training me back on Canary. Holy crap did she ever stress. ‘Not so much, Cass. Dial it back, Cass.’ ”

Cass ejected the tiny black chip and flicked it into the air. Her eyes flashed neon, and the chip glowed like a spark and vanished into a smoky curlicue. “Just promise you’ll stay out of my flight computer,” she said, steering Jonesy toward the boarding ladder. “No hacking.”

“Okay,” Jonesy sighed. “Promise.”