Jessica solar's Arc

Chapter 7 of 15

Eleven hours after the crimson faction's message, Jessica stood in the cargo lock and stared at the sealed rhino. The lantern plant inside still glowed. The representative would arrive in sixty minutes with a second item she had never agreed to accept. If she took it, her debt doubled. If she refused it at the airlock, they called the contract broken and sent a boarding party. She needed a third option, and she needed it now. "I can't outrun them," she said. "So I write the terms first." Michael Dicenzo looked up from his sketchpad. He sat cross-legged by the hatch, pencil paused, glasses slipping down his nose. "Terms of what?" "Delivery. If I set the rules for how their gifts arrive, I control what counts as accepted." She pulled a data slate from her belt and started typing. "Inspection protocol. Quarantine cycle. Signature required from the owner. Me. Not the florist. Not an airlock sensor." A soft knock came at the inner hatch. The florist stood there in her linen dress, arms empty for once. Her hands shook. Jessica had not called for her. "He sent me ahead," the florist said. "He wants me to prep the receiving bay. Flowers. A table. He said you would understand." Jessica understood. The diplomat was staging a ceremony. Ceremonies made debts public, and public debts could not be renegotiated. "No table," Jessica said. "No flowers. Tell him the receiving bay is closed for repairs." The florist's mouth opened. Closed. "He's already docking." Jessica moved. She crossed to the airlock panel and locked the outer seal on manual override. Then she keyed the comm. "This is the ship's owner. Delivery refused pending signed inspection protocol. Transmitting terms now." She sent the slate's contents through the channel. "No item crosses my hull until you countersign. That's the condition." A pause. Then the crimson voice, tighter than before. "You are altering an accepted debt structure." "I'm defining it," Jessica said. "Countersign or take your crate home." The silence stretched. Michael's pencil started moving again, fast. The florist pressed both hands to her mouth. The comm clicked. "Terms received. The representative will countersign at the hatch. He requests a private audience after delivery." Jessica cut the channel. Her hands were shaking. She had bought herself a signature. She had also bought a private audience with the diplomat in the crimson coat, alone, inside her ship. "Log it," she said to Michael. "Every word he says. From behind the bulkhead. Don't let him see you." Michael nodded and slipped into the crawlspace. Jessica turned to the florist. "Go back through the lock. Tell him the owner is ready." The florist left. Jessica wiped grease from her palms onto her robe. The stars embroidered there had gone black with soot. She unlocked the outer seal and waited for the man in the crimson coat to step aboard her ship.