“It’s no use,” Jorry said as she re-read the assignment listings.

The hauler forum on Pluto Jumper Station was bustling with activity. People crowded into the long, curving corridor that linked each docking bay to the station, huddling together in clusters near each of the private docks. The walls, ceiling and floor were all connected in an octagon shape and above them halogen lights glowed blue-white, illuminating the metal-meshed walkways. Large yellow and black bracings cut the bay into sections, an ever-present warning of what could happen if something went wrong during a docking procedure. Any fluctuation in pressure and two-foot thick steel doors would snap out of those bracings and seal them all inside.

Jorry shuddered and wished the stations would put the listings inside each of the private docks. That seemed safer than forcing everyone out and into the corridor. Someone bumped into Devon, stealing her attention again, but by the time she looked up they had moved on.

She nodded at the information screen in front of them, clearing her throat until Devon turned to face her again. The computerized wall beside them shimmered blue and white and yellow, indicating which jobs were still available by their priority. Food and fuel shipments were aplenty, but they always were. Most of the planets had hydroponics and greenhouses so they could sustain the needs for the people living there, but the stations themselves almost solely depended on the shipping industry to keep them supplied.

“Every load worth their salt will take all of Zephyr’s cargo hold,” she said to Devon. “Maybe at the next port we’ll find two moderate hauls.”

“Well look,” Devon said, pointing to one of the yellow listings. “Here’s a long haul to Gliese that pays triple any of the short runs. It’s not too big for our ship.”

A thrill shot down Jorry’s spine as she stared at the word.

Gliese, she thought as an all too familiar voice echoed into her memory.

“Run, Jo. You have to run.”

She could still see his face in the computer screen at the rendezvous point, the grim resignation in his eyes, and her chest squeezed tight with grief.

“No.” She shook her head, banishing Johnathan Relo from her mind, and tried to focus on Devon. “Customs on Gliese are so thorough my butt puckers just thinking about it.”

Devon choked on a disgusted laugh. “Ugh. Too graphic, Mom.”

She grinned unrepentantly at him and gripped his shoulder. “I’ll secure a deal with Grecco Foodstuffs. You go tell Seach to pack a bag.”

Devon perked. “You mean … shore leave?”

“It says the shipment won’t get here for another seventy-two hours,” she said with a laugh. Devon looked far too pleased at the announcement. “Isn’t there some underground river you wanted to explore on Pluto?”

“Really?” Devon asked, suddenly exuberant at the prospect of going planet-side.

She nodded and Devon took her by the shoulders, kissing her loudly on the cheek. Jorry laughed again, feeling immeasurably pleased with his reaction. He pulled away and hurried back for their private dock, looking happier than she’d seen him in a while.

Jorry watched him go, her smile fading as her gaze caught the information screen again. Gliese blazed out at her, its innocuous print somehow pulsing through her and dread settled cold in her stomach.

Devon wanted to go to University. She’d intercepted his application already, somewhat hurt that he’d chosen to apply in secret. Fear crept up her spine. There were other schools of course, but the University that every student clamored for was the one on Gliese.

Gliese, she thought again.

There was a chance he might not get in. Then he could pick one of the lesser known colleges, preferably on Earth or Mars and outside of the Consulate’s jurisdiction. But she knew her son. Devon had been toying with the internal components of Zephyr since he was old enough to handle a splicing kit. He was too practiced and too talented for University to pass him up.

No, Devon would get in.

And then they would all be caught.

Jorry turned to focus on the screen again, swallowing down her panic.

Shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, Jorry glanced at the corridor again. People milled through the place, their boots clinking on the meshed walkway, discussing food provisions and load capacities as they passed by. It was the normal chatter for a hauler forum and she began to relax. She dipped her fingers into the silicon powder hidden at the base of her right pocket, letting the cool, dry substance coat her skin.

In her left pocket she took hold of the small cylindrical activation device and clicked it on. Her fingers tingled as the powder went to work, millions of tiny nanites filling the grooves of her skin, morphing her prints. When she placed her hand on the identification pad beside the computer terminal it scanned the nanites, which were programmed to emit a false identity. A moment later the screen read; Welcome, Hannah Berchovitz, Captain.

A list of available hauls filtered below her name. She located the one for Grecco Foodstuffs and confirmed her interest, scheduling the drop off of goods. While she was at it she scheduled their departure, giving them a total of eighty-five hours before they left Pluto and headed for Neptune.

“Well if it isn’t Captain Hanna,” a familiar voice said from behind her.

Jorry tensed, glancing over her shoulder as six feet of muscled, tattooed man moved to her side. She shut down the screen, praying he hadn’t caught any pertinent information like their docking number or the fake name she’d given the ship, but he didn’t seem to notice the screen. His hazel-green gaze was fixed on her face, like he thought she might disappear if he blinked.

“Pick-Axe,” she said, earning a grin that flashed his golden canine at her.

“We was beginning to think you were avoiding us,” Pick-Axe said, leaning one shoulder against the wall and crossing his arms. Any other man might have looked relaxed in such a position but Pick-Axe’s biceps bulged to the point she thought they might pop, appearing anything but comfortable. “Where you been hiding?”

She checked the corridor to make sure Devon hadn’t doubled back or something. The last thing she needed was for Devon to see her speaking to this tattoo-laden hulk. Everything about Pick-Axe screamed of criminal activity, from the twin snakes spiraling around his arms to the flames inked across his bald head. It would be impossible to explain how she knew the man without giving away more important secrets.

“I haven’t been hiding,” she said. There was no sign of Devon but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t come back soon. “What do you want, Pick-Axe?”

“My boss would like a word.”

Jorry frowned up at him, anxiety roiling in the back of her mind.

What could Alexander Movax possibly want from her? Their business concluded seventeen years ago.

“Your boss was paid. In full,” she said.

“Yeah, well, Movax was hoping he could interest you in something else.”

“He can’t.”

“You don’t even know what he’s offering, love.”

“I don’t need to know. I’m not interested.”

Jorry stepped away from the computer. She shoved her hand back in her pocket and turned away from him, walking in the general direction Devon had gone. She knew Pick-Axe was watching, knew he would expect her to go in the opposite direction of her dock, and prayed again that he hadn’t seen anything on that screen. She passed the doorway to Zephyr’s dock and merged into a crowd, frequently checking to see if she was followed.

An insistent, unhappy throb pulsed in her right temple.

Alexander Movax, she thought with a scowl; dammit all to hell.

~*~*~

Seach swiped the underside of his wrist across the hotel room door and heard the lock snick open. He pushed through, wondering what identity his fake chip had given hotel security before dropping his bag on the first bed. Devon walked in behind him and headed for the bed beside the single window.

It wasn’t the grandest hotel they’d ever stayed in but it was clean; standard metal floor, white bedspreads and sheets, and an old fashion monitor built into the wall facing the beds. Devon pushed the button by the window and the tinting lessoned, giving them an unhindered view of the city outside. Pluto was too far from the sun to really benefit from daylight, and its constant rotation with its binary Charon meant that this section of the planet was often in shadow anyway, but beyond the window everything was bright.

Tall, thick posts lined the streets outside and hanging from them were full spectrum 250watt CFL lights, all pointed down to give the impression of sunlight. It was too cold on the surface for anything to grow, even inside the massive atmospheric domes, but Seach imagined that wasn’t really the point.

The point was to keep people from going crazy this far out. And it worked, most of the time. The city even dimmed the lights an hour before shutting them off. It didn’t resemble a sunset or twilight or anything but most of the civilians living on Pluto had never actually been off planet before. They wouldn’t know the difference.

“A group of seven Offenders were caught today in the outskirts of Titan Prime,” a newscaster’s voice filtered into the room as the monitor automatically powered on.

Seach tensed and glanced at the monitor, which was showing the unfortunate group as they were led from their personal domicile. Three women, four men, various ages and ethnicities, but all wearing identical expressions of resignation and for a heartbeat Seach had to coach himself into standing still.

“This makes the largest arrest of Offenders in fifteen years,” the newscaster continued.

The report switched to one of the Offenders, an older gentleman with thinning hair and a face too rough to be considered handsome. He spoke clearly in spite of being ushered toward a Consulate detention center.

“The Religious Tolerance Law mandates that we have the right to practice our faith in the privacy of our own homes,” he said. The name that flashed under him read; Doctor Gerald Lansom. “That’s all we were doing. We’ve broken no law.”

“Lieutenant Drascal of the Consulate Security Service refused comment on the events leading up to the arrests but maintains that procedure was followed and the courts will decide the fates of these Offenders.”

Seach scowled and turned from the monitor, hunting for the remote. He found it a moment later on the table between their two beds and shut the news feed off. He glanced at Devon, who didn’t seem to notice the shift in his mood because he was still staring out the window. Seach breathed in relief and forced himself not to think of the seven likely innocent civilians currently being carted off to a work camp.

“So when do we have to be up?” Seach asked, flopping onto his bed. The mattress sunk three inches and he sighed in relief.

Sometimes he missed having a real bed. The shelf-like cot on Zephyr was decent but the mattresses and bedding all had to be stored when not in use and they tended to get flat after so many times being stuffed into the wall. So he stretched out, letting his booted feet dangle off the side, and closed his eyes.

“I booked us with SAC for five,” Devon said.

“SAC?”

“Spelunking Adventure Company. Itinerary said there were two other groups coming with a total of seven people, two of them being the guides.”

Seach smirked and threw his arm across his face. “Itinerary said all that, did it?”

“Yeah, plus a packing list.”

“Let me guess,” Seach said, uncovering his face and looking up at Devon. “Rope. Lots of rope.”

“Nah, they supply the rope and cams.”

Devon moved to open his own bag, frowning in concentration as he pulled out an extra shirt and pair of pants. Seach watched him, smiling at the haphazard packing job and careless attitude the boy had for his things. Jo would have twitched to see it. When he was younger she would have re-packed everything for him, but it seemed she’d learned to let the little things go. Seach sighed, wondering if she even realized how much she’d changed.

The light from the window set the reddish tints of Devon’s hair to glowing. In normal lighting his hair was mostly brown, wispy and unkempt, with long bangs brushing just past his eyebrows. Jo would ask him to cut it soon, and Devon would either listen or become obstinate, deliberately keeping it long just to make a point about how old he was. Seach really didn’t care how Devon wore his hair but it was best if the boy didn’t draw stares, so eventually Seach would have to make a comment.

Devon grinned, apparently locating what he was looking for, and drew out his handheld computer. He powered the unit on and tossed it onto the bed. The blue holographic interface flickered to life, filling the space across his bed, and Seach shifted onto his elbow to see it better.

Spelunking Adventure Company read in bright red and gold tones across the top, its graphics undulating as though it were water. Below the logo was the list of participants for the following day, which seemed odd to Seach but he decided not to question the company’s tactics. If SAC found it drew better crowds by providing the names of those preparing for a trek then more power to them. He was just glad Devon had seen fit to use a made-up name.

“Fitzgerald?” Seach asked.

Devon met his gaze from across the holograph. “Yeah,” he said. “The computer drew it up when I went to make the payment.”

Seach tensed, realizing his mistake.

Zephyr was programmed with over a million fake identities that she filtered through at random. It was one of Jorry’s more innovative moves to keep them under the radar, he knew. At each jumper station the computer chose a name, created a financial account and dumped some money into that account from their savings. And because their savings was held in trust on Earth, that made them more or less untraceable out here in Consulate space.

Seach saw the suspicion on Devon’s face and searched frantically for a way out of this conversation.

“I imagine when you say ‘five’ that you mean five in the morning,” Seach said, pushing himself to his feet. He turned and headed for the closet-like bathroom just beside the entrance.

He heard Devon sigh behind him but didn’t look back, just stepped into the bathroom. The lights flicked on, revealing a cramped toilet, shower, and sink occupying the little space. A mirror hung above the sink and for second he was startled to see himself. Zephyr didn’t have any mirrors and the man staring back at him looked somehow foreign; sharp angles, wide mouth, brown eyes that he remembered some woman had called “honey brown” once. He wasn’t certain why, but that description had pleased him so he’d taken to seeing them that way.

He wondered if that’s what Jo saw when she looked at him.

“I’ll set my alarm for three-thirty,” Devon said after a minute.

Seach recognized the disappointment in his voice but shoved it away. This was the price to keep the boy safe. It royally sucked but it had worked for seventeen years, there was no sense changing it now, not when Devon was so close to his coming-of-age.

“Three-thirty,” Seach said with a grunt. He stepped to the sink and ran his hands under the faucet, letting frigid water soak into his skin. “Was that the latest you could find?”

“Yep,” Devon said. “They’re booked for the next five weeks. Pluto’s passing the sun and soon all the natural atmosphere will freeze. This is the only chance we’ll get to see the river actually flowing.”

“Wonderful,” Seach said, drying his hands on a soft red towel perched near the door.

He tried not to think about how early three-thirty was going to feel as he returned to his bed and sat down. The monitor on the wall read fifteen minutes to eight and he sighed. Pluto kept a twenty-four hour schedule even though the planet took a little over six Earth days to make one rotation. Seach often wondered about that. The first explorers in space could have made their own rules, could have chosen to cut their schedules into forty-eight hour blocks or something, but instead they chose standard Earth time.

If it had been him, he would have made five hour work days.

Seach unbuckled his boots and kicked them off, then sprawled across the bed. He grabbed one pillow and covered his face with it, then lifted it long enough to speak to Devon.

“Wake me at three-thirty. And you owe me one.”

As he closed his eyes and lowered the pillow again he heard Devon chuckle. He smiled at the sound, relaxed into the mattress, and prepared to sleep.