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crowd. “I still have yet to meet her. If this is concerning the slip fees, I was just informed Cherry Grove only trades in Taranis scrip, and I can’t find a money market anywhere that will exchange credits for it.”

Rusty shook his head and held up his hands. “Scrip is for what we buy and sell amongst ourselves. Each tower is a certified space port configured to accept all kinds of currency. It’s a moot point though, since you’re part of the family now, and we don’t charge our own to park outside for a spell.”

“That’s awfully nice of you. I’ll have to thank Mike for saving us some money.” Casey smiled, and she hooked her thumbs over her belt. “I can’t imagine you ran all the way over just to tell me we don’t owe you anything. What’s on your mind?”

“The skyman transmitted a petition for corporate co-citizenship, and I wanted to be the first to congratulate you.” Rusty grinned. “You’ve all been authorized as of ten minutes ago. I’ve never even heard of Taranis pushing through applications that fast!”

Casey blinked. “Corporate co-citizenship?”

“I know!” said Rusty. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

“You could say that,” muttered Casey. “All of us?”

“Everyone here, plus…” He retrieved his datapad. “Torsha Madagan, Krané Glorwae… One Bathilda Steinherz, but she’s been flagged for a background check. So have Oye Ilesamni, Misaki Koneko, and Shulana Elsummu, but I wouldn’t worry too much about the background checks. It’s almost always a formality.”

Casey chuckled. “Maybe not in this case. The last four—I couldn’t get their real names. How was Taranis able to track them down so fast?”

“Taranis is the Milky Way’s number one supplier of recreational firearms and adventure gear,” said Rusty. “They actively curate centuries worth of customer data. If you’ve ever owned or operated any Taranis products, they’re got your DNA on file.”

“That’s chilling,” said Casey, and she moved her hand a little further away from her holstered sidearm.

“It’s all there in the end-user agreement,” said Rusty. “Anyway, it looks like you’ve already got something going on, so I won’t keep you any longer. Once more, welcome to Cherry Grove! I’m so glad you decided to join us.”

“Sure. Us too,” said Casey.

Rusty bowed slightly, took his leave, and Casey returned to the group.

“All right guys,” said Hector, and he banged on his legs. “I’ve got medical things to do. The vagrants can stay, but everyone else needs to go. Edison, I could use your help. John, I always welcome your company, of course.” He pushed open his doors, led his guests inside, and latched the doors closed behind him.

“All right Mike, hand it over,” said Hector.

“Nimbus?” asked Mike.

Hector nodded. “Gimme.”

Mike retrieved a velvet whisky pouch from his jacket and passed it Hector’s way. “He’s inside, in a plastic bag. He started shedding dust after you scanned him.”

“That’s not good,” said Hector. “The scan was supposed to be a passive exchange. It shouldn’t have drained Nimbus at all, but if it’s shedding mass, it’s trying to conserve energy.” He pulled free a sealed freezer bag. Inside it, he found Nimbus and a fine layer of metallic dust that lined the bottom of the bag. “It hasn’t lost much mass, but losing any mass means it’s on the verge of a major ejection, and everything Nimbus ejects is impossible to reintegrate. If there’s any nuanced memory shards, they’re gone for good. Also, subsequent ejections will occur with greater frequency until there’s nothing left but the core logic, which basically leaves your fog with permanent amnesia.”

“Last night, you said we had tons of time!” said Mike.

Hector shrugged. “I also thought you were packed with neuroware. Look, I’m wrong sometimes, okay?” He glanced at Edison and Cajun. “Looks like time is of the essence after all. Gentleman?”

“After you,” said Edison. He and Cajun followed Hector as he hurried to the operating room.

Mike stood in the lobby, watching as they disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“I do,” said Orin, and he rested his arm across Mike’s shoulders. “Nimbus is in good hands.”

Shona sat down in the middle of the floor. She re-braided her hair behind her and tied it off. With an engaging smile, she pulled two decks of playing cards from one of her vest pouches and placed them in front of her. “Anyone up for a game of Crazy Eights? Guaranteed to keep your mind off things in the next room.”

“I don’t know how to play,” said Mike.

“Neither do I,” said Casey.

“It’s easy,” said Malmoradan. “Shona, care to explain the rules?”

Her friends gathered near and sat with her in a circle as she explained how to play and dealt them their hands.

◆◆◆

Hector switched off the heat lamp and shoved it aside. “Dr. Stone, I need you to fill that wash basin with saline solution. That one, over there on the rolling tray, and only up to the first line. There’s an unopened gallon container next to the sink—you can use that. Now please.”

“I’m on it,” said Edison, and he set to opening the container.

“John, this is a suspension-catalyzer.” Hector passed him the plastic bag and a rod with a clip. “Slip this over the side of the basin, turn it on, and then dump our friend into the saline solution as soon as Dr. Stone gives the go-ahead. Nimbus will appear to dissolve, but don’t freak out—it’s supposed to do that. As soon as that happens, we’ll load the suspension into a jumbo IV bag and inject the slug. Got it?”

“I do,” said Cajun. He approached Edison and carefully opened the freezer bag.

Hector grinned. “Good. I’m going to wake up the slug.” He pulled down a cylindrical device hanging from the ceiling and loaded a tube of dark blue gel into it.

“It’s ready,” said Edison, and he capped the plastic jug.

Cajun clipped the rod in place and switched it on. The saline solution oscillated rapidly enough to blur the surface. Gingerly, Cajun rolled Nimbus into the liquid. The orb sank to

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