Jorry climbed off the elliptical machine and snagged her towel. It hung half out of the personal bag she’d carried into Zephyr’s closet-like gym room and was so yellowed with age that she almost cringed to touch it. She really ought to spend the extra money on some bleach, she thought and mopped the sweat off her face.

The gym had just enough room for the machine and one case of cold water packets in the corner. Most hauler ships had a larger gym, but Jo needed the space for other things; such as the smugglers hold located behind the northern wall. That hold in particular led up and toward a small space between the outer hull and the thermal nanoplating that kept them all from freezing. She’d never had to use that cache before and she hoped she never had to. Smuggling was among her least favorite activities.

A display directly in front of the machine gave the daily news feed or any necessary reports on the ship. She’d been looking for any reports on Movax and Pluto Station, worried that they were being followed but if Movax had been taken down the Consulate was keeping it quiet.

“The attention of the Galaxy is fixed on the Democractic Republic of Gliese today as primaries began petitioning for voters. Every Governor in Consulate space is required to be in attendance for this initial week as the candidates make their bids on the Galactic Presidency.”

“Mute,” Jorry said.

Zephyr immediately turned off the sound and the room plunged into the quite hum of air vents. The feed continued to play, showing her the paunch face of a middle-age politician identified as Walsh Whitney, current governor of Saturn’s system. He had thinning brown hair and the kind of earnest demeanor that every politician tried to display. According to the feed he was the most likely candidate for the popular vote and Jorry couldn’t help a surge of irritation just looking at him.

This is what I fought for, she thought. This was what her father helped build.

Some part of her tried to highlight that the Consulate was the lesser of two evils. Children weren’t being blown out of the sky based on religious preferences anymore, that had to count for something.

The door opened, startling her into lowering the towel. Mr. Kelly stood nervously on the threshold, fidgeting with his frayed jacket sleeve. Jorry cocked an eyebrow at him, suddenly uneasy. Since their confrontation over Zoe’s true talents Jorry had been studiously avoiding their passengers and she really hadn’t expected to speak to Paul again.

“I was just finished,” she said, motioning to the machine.

Her voice must have startled him because he jumped and finally looked at her.

“Ah,” he said. “Thank you … but … I came here looking for you, actually.”

Her unease intensified as he turned and closed the door. Maybe he wanted an apology for the way she had terrorized the truth out of Kenzie.

“I see,” Jorry said. “Look, I’m not here to be anyone’s friend, Mr. Kelly. And I won’t apologize for scaring the girls. I had to get the truth out of them, one way or another.”

“Oh, no, no,” Paul said and flushed brightly. “Believe me, you’ve made your sentiments quite clear in regards to us. And I do apologize for misleading you.”

Jorry frowned at him as he stared down at the floor. “Well, if you’re not here to complain about my lack of manners and you’re not here to make friends, what are you after, Mr. Kelly?”

“I know about Devon,” he blurted.

Jorry felt her heart skitter and glanced at the closed door.

“What do you think you know about my son?”

“He’s not really your son,” Paul said, looking back at her face. “It took me a while, but I knew he looked familiar, you see?”

She stood still. No, she didn’t see. Not yet, anyway, but she would let him ramble his confession until she did. Devon looked similar enough to Seach that it wasn’t inconceivable that he was their son. His face was a little longer, slightly gaunter at the cheekbones, but they could blame that on youth for now. But none of that mattered because whatever Paul saw in Devon was coming from someone else.

Jorry took a deep, steadying breath and tightened her grip on the towel.

“Several years ago my friend Peter and his wife were arrested as Offenders,” Paul said, the words stumbling out of him in a rush. “A few of us had begun work on a system for us to meet in the privacy of our own homes for worship. We were drawing on the concept of home churches, which kept it all on private property so that we would not be breaking any laws but … Well, the Consulate didn’t see it that way. They said persons outside of an immediate family unit had gathered for religious practices, making the location of the gathering irrelevant.”

He scowled for a moment, his brow pinching in an expression bordering anger and half a second later Jorry was startled to see that cursed glow sputter to life. She clenched her fists, mouth dry as she watched him pace through the little room. The Presence again, glittering out of him like sunshine on freshly fallen snow, and Jorry glanced up at where she knew the security camera was recording.

Would they be able to see it through the feed?

Did she even want to know?

God, she needed this man and his charges off her ship.

“Peter and Melanie … they were …” Paul’s grief was rough in his voice, a counterbalance to the bright shine Jorry could see in him and she was able to focus on what he was saying. “They were sentenced to a work camp but shortly after arriving they discovered Melanie was pregnant. Neither of them were willing to raise their child in such a place so they escaped, bartered passage to Mars on a ship called the Circassia.”

Fear clutched at her heart as she listened. She knew this story. She’d lived this story. She remembered the events on Europa jumper station all too well. Some sleazy customs agent had figured out who Melanie and her companions were while the Zephyr was getting stocked. The cursed front loader was broken even back then, which was half the reason the agent had time to catch them. Jorry hadn’t known Melanie was an Offender at the time and she wasn’t certain if the knowledge would have mattered or not.

“The thing is, Melanie had already given birth by the time they were caught. The child’s name was David and both Peter and Melanie knew they couldn’t reveal his existence. The Consulate would have forced them to take the child back to the work camp with them, or worse.” Paul smiled sadly at her. “So they left him behind, assuming the Captain would settle the child in an orphanage somewhere. Melanie wrote to me from prison asking me to find her son but there was no record of the Circassia or the Captain she’d spoken of.”

Paul paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “I searched for a year and a half but could find no traces of the child. I understand why, now. You never took David to an orphanage, you kept him.”

For one brief, insane moment Jorry debated killing the man, or at least beating the snot out of him until he couldn’t speak. She could shove him into the overhead smugglers cache and let him freeze to death up there. But as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t. Paul Kelly was a good man. She had no idea what profession he was in or why the Torda sisters had been entrusted to his care, but he was good at his core and she could see it.

“You believe Devon is this David?” She asked, slowly uncurling her fists.

Paul met her eyes. “I do. The resemblance is uncanny. I would know Peter Kissinger’s son anywhere.”

Jorry stepped toward him, bringing herself intimately close. Paul tensed, apparently sensing how much danger he was in and she saw a flash of fear in his eyes. Whatever he’d been expecting from his confession, this wasn’t it.

“That boy’s name is Devon Barlow and he is my son,” she said very quietly. “He is more a part of me than my own skin. If I hear you even whisper such a story on this ship again I will disembowel you. Are we clear?”

Paul looked shocked. “Captain,” he stammered. “You … you should know that Melanie is alive.”

“I don’t care where Melanie is.”

Jorry turned away from him, her mind reeling. She probably shouldn’t have threatened Paul but she couldn’t let Devon hear the truth through someone else. He had to hear it from her and she wasn’t ready to tell him yet; wasn’t certain she would ever be ready.

“I’m sorry,” Paul said. “I understand you care for the boy. But doesn’t his real mother deserve to know he is alive and well?”

Jorry flinched. She’d always assumed Melanie had been put to death beside her husband. The Consulate was not known for its leniency toward escapees. Why hadn’t they executed her too?

Offenders, Grey Men, and now Melanie, she thought. Jorry felt suddenly like a ship in freefall, spinning out of control with no means of stopping. She heard Paul sigh, heard the door open, and then he spoke one last time.

“You’ve my word, Captain. He won’t hear it from me. He is happy and he is healthy. That’s all I need to know.”

The door closed again and Jorry grabbed the handle of the elliptical machine, its solid presence under her hand somehow comforting. She thought of Melanie and the decision to leave behind her son and felt her gut turn over.

There was a difference, Jorry told herself; there was a big difference between her and Melanie. Melanie had known that abandoning her child was the only way to make sure he lived. Devon would live on without needing to know his true parentage.

Jorry swallowed tightly and closed her eyes.

Guilt slammed into her full force. She should have double-checked instead of assuming Melanie was dead, should have followed the trial more closely, maybe even mounted a rescue effort.

But worst of all, she shouldn’t be so damn angry that Melanie was alive.

“Jo?” Seach’s voice came over the intercom, sounding concerned and she straightened. “What’s going on?”

Security feeds, she thought with a curse. Sometimes her paranoia was a pain in the ass.

“Melanie’s alive,” Jorry said, too lost to think of anything else to say.

Seach was quiet for a moment, either from shock or a need to remember who Melanie was. She and Peter had only been on board for seven weeks almost twenty years ago, but their departure had lasting effects on their lives. She knew he would remember quickly.

“What do you want to do?” He asked, and by the sound of his voice she knew she’d been right.

“I have no idea,” Jorry said.

~*~*~

Devon laughed as Zoe got another point off her sister. Kenzie huffed and shook her head at the virtual ping pong table. She looked ruefully amused by the fact that she was losing; again. Zoe was ahead by two points and quite pleased with herself. Devon rubbed his nose, hiding a smile as he watched the two play.

“I think this game is rigged,” Kenzie said.

“You’re just a sore loser,” Zoe said and started a mock dance of triumph.

Devon grinned. “You’re just not used to the digital hologram. You’ll get it.”

“But I even lost to Paul,” Kenzie said. “I should not have lost to Paul.”

“Well …” Devon conceded, earning him a gasp of mock protest. “You’re probably right. Paul’s pretty terrible.”

Zoe cackled and Kenzie served, sending the ball soaring across the table. Zoe scrambled to catch it but swung too soon and the ball disappeared over her shoulder. Kenzie gave Zoe a bratty grin and winked.

Things seemed better between them all now. It was as if the secrets they’d been holding had been the only barrier to true friendship and he was glad that it was gone.

Mostly gone, he thought.

He and the Zephyr had their own secrets, after all, but he was convinced those secrets were necessary. Or most of them anyway. He still couldn’t figure out why his parents had lied about Grey Men. It seemed like such a silly thing to lie about, and he had the uncomfortable feeling something more was going on.

He’d done a search on Grey Men after the incident with Kenzie. There were a couple of private conspiracy sites out on the inter-galactic web and they all had various theories about where Grey Men had come from. At least two theories supported the idea that Grey Men were extraterrestrial life – meaning life outside the bounds of human understanding. They had terrifying prowess and witness reports said they could shoot lightening out of their palms.

But they were also humanoid; two legs, two arms, one head. Where they had come from was a mystery. They made their debut five years before Devon had been born but all physical evidence of their existence was either confiscated by the Consulate or destroyed, which was why so many believed they didn’t exist.

Devon leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, frowning as a new thought occurred to him. If Grey Men existed, and apparently they did, then maybe that was what his parents were running from. Not much could beat a Tapped soldier, but maybe a Grey Man could.

Paul walked into the central chamber, dragging Devon from his thoughts. He was frowning to himself and looked a little shaken, which worried Devon so he focused, watching him as he entered. Paul looked surprised to see them and Devon noticed the effort it took for the man to compose himself.

Now what?

“Paul!” Zoe beamed. “Come play with us.”

“Oh, not right now, dear,” Paul said. “We should all be getting ready for lunch, shouldn’t we?”

Devon checked the news feed on the east wall. “It’s only eleven.”

“Is that too early?”

“Meals are at 0700, 1200, and 1600 hours,” Kenzie quoted. “If you show up at 1700, you don’t eat.”

Devon chuckled at the obvious imitation of his mother. One of these days he was going to have to talk to her about the way she dealt with people.

“Well, yes, but,” Paul looked to him. “Couldn’t we help get it set up and started? I feel so useless. It would be nice to do something for your parents for a change.”

“Well, we don’t normally live by this routine,” Devon said. “I think they want to keep things simple and stable. For safety reasons.”

“How does when we eat keep us safe?” Kenzie asked.

“Well,” Devon thought carefully before answering. “If she knows where you’ll be at 0700, 1200, and 1600 hours, the Captain can make sure she is occupied elsewhere. You’ll notice she’s not the friendliest in our bunch.”

They all laughed at that, except for Paul who gazed at him with such a steady, conflicted look that Devon’s instincts screamed to life.

“Is something wrong?” Devon asked.

Paul’s eyes fell away from him. “No, nothing. Why don’t we all prepare lunch anyway? We can deliver it to Seach at the very least.”

Devon frowned, watching as the man deliberately turned away from him. He spotted Kenzie frowning too and knew she had noticed the same thing. Their gazes caught and he could see the confusion in her face. A moment later she shrugged, silently telling him she had no idea what was going on. Devon flashed a brief smile and shrugged too.

Whatever was wrong with Paul would have to wait. They would be at Neptune soon and then his life of piracy would officially begin. His parents had already run through the refueling process with him, but the real problem came with the heater cells. He was going to have to visit the Jumper store to buy those cells or they wouldn’t be able to eat for the rest of the journey.

Devon took a deep breath and told himself it would be all right. If anything went wrong, his parents were Tapped – they knew how to save the day.

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