Leo still hesitated. Of course the ventasium they stole—the ventasium he stole, because he was the one who had stuffed the cores in the bag—was worth a thousand times more than one jar of peanut butter. The difference was that Leo needed the V—to find Zirkus Crayt. To find Gareth. To do what he promised. This . . . this felt different somehow.

Bastian Black finished licking his fingers and stared at Leo. “Don’t tell me you’re taking the moral high ground over a jar of peanut butter?”

Leo didn’t answer. He just stared and hoped they couldn’t hear his stomach rumbling.

“What do you even know about the Darkashi we took this from?” Baz prodded.

“That they’re obviously afraid of pirates,” Leo said. And that they obviously had good taste.

Baz shook his head. “So you don’t know that they live on a planet where basically one percent of them are part of the ruling class, and the rest are little more than slave labor. That the rich force the poor to work in factories making weapons that they can sell to the Aykari, while any leftovers get shuffled off to the Djarik at a black-market discount.” Black’s voice took on an edge. “So while a few privileged Darkashi prickwads are out there gallivanting around on their pleasure yachts, rubbing antennae and gorging themselves—on a food that we invented, by the way—the majority of their species is toiling away in factories, building guns and ships and missiles so other, even more powerful prickwads can fight to see which prickwad will rule them all and leave the rest of us wallowing in the mess they leave behind. And all of a sudden, you’re worried because we helped ourselves to their buffet?”

Baz was right: Leo knew none of this. Though it didn’t completely surprise him either: that the same species that would bet on the outcome of a brutal battle would supply weapons to those fighting that battle and make a tidy profit. But that didn’t mean Leo had to be like them. It didn’t mean he couldn’t be better.

“So you’re saying it’s okay to steal from them just because they’re rich.”

Baz shrugged. “I’m saying that when I die, taking this jar of peanut butter from a bunch of stuck-up Darkashi space tourist snobs will rank pretty far down on my list of regrets. Right behind kissing Marjorie Brinner in the fourth grade even though I knew Bobby Bekerman kind of liked her. Meaning I won’t regret it at all.”

Sure, Leo thought. But how does Bobby Bekerman feel?

Leo looked again at the jar in Kat’s hand. It still felt wrong, but it also smelled so good. Reluctantly he dipped one finger, brought it to his lips, took it in. He let the peanut butter sit for a moment on his tongue, a shiver coursing through him. It tasted just like he remembered. And yet he still had a little trouble getting it down.

“Here, kid,” Baz said, taking the now half-empty jar from Kat and handing it to Leo. “You finish this one. Consider it your share of the bounty. I’m going to get us out of here before those bug eyes get their ship back online. Kat, stand by to detach.”