That was pretty much all the info Hilliard had on the brother. But there was quite a bit about the company he was presumably keeping: several data files about the human pirate Bastian Black and his cutthroat crew, including a sizable bounty and an even bigger list of arrestable offenses. Leo Fender had picked the wrong ship to stow away on. Assuming, of course, that the kid was still with them, that the pirates hadn’t sold him to a slaver or simply blasted him out of the air lock. Hilliard wasn’t about to say it out loud, but the chances that someone like Black would keep ballast like that around were slim.

Unless he thought he could get something out of him. Pirates could find profit in almost anything. And if Black knew who Leo’s father was . . . At the very least he could use the kid to blackmail the dad. Force him to give up secrets. Research. Anything he could turn around and sell on the black market. Hilliard couldn’t think of a single thing he wouldn’t do to keep his own daughter safe.

The sergeant conjured up a pathetic excuse for a smile, immediately regretted trying, and resumed his somber expression. “I’m sorry. We don’t have any information about your brother, but rest assured, we are looking for him as well.”

“As hard as you’re looking for my father?”

Hilliard paused before answering; this kid was smart. Dr. Calvin Fender was a renowned physicist with intimate knowledge of V and the Coalition’s ongoing research into its uses. Leo Fender was just a kid. One of millions who had been displaced or abandoned as a result of this war. The higher-ups made it clear that finding Dr. Fender was a priority and that all effort would be expended to do so.

The hope was that Leo would just turn up. Much like his brother had.

“We really are looking for him,” Hilliard repeated. It was the best he could do.

The young man leaned across the table, fingers clinched. “Can’t you tell me anything? I’ve answered all of your questions and you’ve given me nothing. You don’t know where my father is. You don’t know where my brother is. You won’t tell me what you’re doing to find them. You can’t even tell me why they took my dad in the first place!”

Hilliard sighed. This kid was breaking his heart. The sergeant had already made up his mind that when this debriefing was over, he was going to go hunt down a cup of hot coffee for the both of them. Some small gesture to let this boy know that somebody out there cared, at least a little.

“Sorry, son. If there are answers to any of those questions, they’re above my pay grade. Believe me, I’m only trying to help.”

The kid slumped back in his chair, rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Some help.”

Hilliard decided to switch gears for a moment, maybe get the kid to refocus. “Says here you’re interested in joining the Coalition Navy. That’s admirable.” Honestly, he could think of other words to describe it—foolhardy, impetuous, suicidal—but saying them could get him in trouble. Best not to bad-mouth the boss.