At least until he got to the part where his father put him in charge, asked him to look after his younger brother. Then you could see the shame printed on his cheeks. The regretful choke in his voice. Just imagine, sending your own brother away in the middle of uncharted space.

Some things seem like good ideas at the time. In moments of crisis. When there really are no good ideas.

“And the Djarik didn’t say anything about what they wanted Dr. Fender for?”

The boy shook his head.

“They didn’t mention anything about his research? Or EL-four eight six? Anything like that?”

“I wasn’t there when they took him,” the kid said. “I just know he was the only one they took.”

“The first time.”

“The first time.”

Hilliard nodded and keyed a note into his datapad. None of his superiors bothered to tell him what this was all about, only that the kid might know something vital to the war effort, that his father was some big-shot American scientist who had been kidnapped, and that Aykari High Command had an interest in getting Dr. Calvin Fender back. Preferably before the Djarik got whatever it was they wanted out of him.

“Do you have any idea where my dad is?”

The kid stared hard at Hilliard, an intensity burning behind a pair of blue eyes, all the more striking for their bloodshot rims.

The sergeant shook his head. “We’re working on it, son. My understanding is that the Coalition is making it a high priority. They want to get your father back. We all do.” It wasn’t just a line. Hilliard had heard stories about what the Djarik did to their prisoners: torture, interrogation, execution without trial. There was no galactic equivalent of the Geneva Convention to protect them. This war between the Djarik and the Aykari—it was brutal, and everyone was paying the price.

There were days he honestly wished those lanky blue-or-orange-eyed Aykari interlopers had never shown up to begin with, parking their silver ships in the Earth’s atmosphere like they owned the place, dropping drills on every square inch of earth they cared to. But if it hadn’t been them, it probably would have been the Scalies. Or some other alien race looking to poke holes in the planet’s crust and squeeze it like a sponge, sucking out every last bit of V. That’s how it was: you had something the universe wanted, they would find a way to take it. You could try to fight or you could just let them have it, but either way, it was going to cost you.

God, he was tired.

“What about my brother?” the kid asked. “Have you found anything about him? Or the pirates that took him?”

Hilliard scrolled across his datapad’s screen, bringing up all the information he had on the kid’s brother. Name: Leo Fender. Age: thirteen. Human. Earthborn. Assigned as a passenger aboard the Beagle—a ship that was now just space dust. The family was from Colorado. A lot of ventasium in Colorado. Hilliard had gone skiing there once—before the constant avalanches made it unsafe.