Luna Chen's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Two weeks after her viral stream, Luna sat inside Mikaela's ship, arms raised for the webcam. The armpit content had exploded. What started as a stunt now paid better than any real job. Money poured in every hour. Luna barely left the desk chair anymore. She flexed for the camera, grinned, and watched the tips climb. It felt easy. That was the problem. Mikaela came in from the cockpit, still in her red flannel, gray socks bunched at her ankles. She was the pilot Becca had connected Luna to, the one hauling a fourteen-page debt notice she read line by line. She stopped behind the couch and stared at the screen. "You've been in that chair three days," Mikaela said. Flat. "The wipe is in four." "I know." Luna didn't turn around. A new tip flashed. She smiled at it. "Look. Two hundred credits, just now. This pays your snake pair. This pays your ship." "It does." Mikaela crossed her arms. "And the corporation is watching this exact stream. Same face they flagged last time. You're not hiding. You're advertising." Luna's smile slipped. She glanced at the corner of the screen. The viewer count sat high, thousands of them, and somewhere in that crowd sat the people guarding her mother's file. She had gotten famous again. She was doing it on purpose now. "I'll stop soon," Luna said. "One more hour." "You said that yesterday." Mikaela reached past her and killed the stream. The screen went black. The tip counter froze. "There. Done." Luna spun the chair. "That was working. That was money." "It was a leash." Mikaela pulled the clothing off the pile on the couch and threw a jacket at Luna's chest. "You want the file or the followers. Pick one. You can't board a station from a webcam." Luna held the jacket. She thought about the number she'd walked away from. Then she thought about the file, her mother's name inside it, four days from gone. The webcam had made her fame the fast way, the way she wanted. It had also nailed her feet to this floor. "The file," Luna said. She stood. "Good." Mikaela handed her a data slate. "I did math while you posed. The station's dock still takes cargo shuttles. We come in as a delivery. But there's a hole." Luna read the slate. The docking system needed a corporate access key. They didn't have one. The stream had earned enough to buy almost anything, except the one code the corporation would never sell. "So we're rich and locked out," Luna said. "Rich and locked out," Mikaela agreed. "The money bought us fuel. It can't buy the door." Luna set the slate down. The easy income was over. She had traded the crowd for a shot at the station, and now the real problem stood plain in front of her. Four days. A dock she couldn't open. And a corporation waiting for her to try.