But it wasn’t a choice. This was coercion, no matter the circumstance.

And it wasn’t without consequence either. Hammer insisted Jeth spend a couple hours in a regeneration chamber, a highly expensive treatment capable of healing a variety of basic injuries, including broken ribs.

“If I’m sending you on a job,” Hammer said, “then you’d best be in top form.”

Trouble was, the healing process hurt even more than the beating that had put him in such a state. Jeth knew Hammer most often used the regenerator as a torture device. He would have his enemies’ bones broken, then heal them, only to break them again. After his session ended, Jeth understood just how effective the method could be.

Still, less than three days after arriving at Peltraz, Jeth and his crew left again, this time accompanied by Sergei and Daxton Price, their new babysitters. At least Dax’s skill would come in handy if they had to track down Sierra and Vince. Jeth thought it likely they wouldn’t stay on Avalon, not with the ship’s failed metadrive.

They flew out from Peltraz on the Citation, the same C-94 Viper that Dax had used to escort them to the Belgrave Quadrant. The ship was registered to Roland Trudanth, a dummy name Hammer used when his own might draw too much attention. The Citation had been customized in one of Hammer’s chop shops to include a stealth drive and an entire arsenal of weapons, all carefully concealed and, needless to say, completely illegal on a ship of that class.

“Are you sure of those coordinates?” Dax asked from the pilot’s chair. Sergei sat copilot beside him.

Jeth glanced up from the nav station screen where he had just finished charting their flight path to an Independent planet known as Benfold Minor. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Lizzie double-checked that Benfold was within jumping distance from where we got picked up outside the Belgrave.”

“All right. Moenia City it is,” Dax said, leaning back in the pilot’s chair. He had a cocky manner about him, far different than what Jeth was used to from the Brethren. Most of them were completely serious, with the personality of mud, a phenomenon he now understood completely. He’d been doing his best not to stare at Dax’s and Sergei’s implants, but it was difficult as random bursts of pain kept shooting over the back of his skull and down his neck from the architecture.

At least the hood disguise had been doing its job. None of the others had noticed so far, although he thought he’d seen Dax cast a couple of knowing and sympathetic looks his way.

“We can get there in three jumps,” Dax said. “Not too bad. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, allowing time for the drive to cycle up in between.”

Jeth didn’t comment. He gently rested his aching head against the back of the chair, settling in for the trip. He briefly considered joining Lizzie, Celeste, Flynn, and Shady down on the commons deck, but decided against it. Being up here would be boring, but he didn’t want to spend a lot of time with the crew right now. Their presence only underlined the reality of the future he faced.

The journey to Benfold Minor went smoothly, each metaspace jump normal and effortless. The Citation’s metadrive was in good shape, it seemed.

“Okay, Jeth,” Dax said as they began their approach, “as soon as the Moenia spaceport opens a line with us, run the trace program I showed you so we can figure out where Avalon is docked.”

Jeth nodded, silently hoping that Avalon was still docked. If any of Sierra’s story about having a contact with a metadrive was true, it was possible they’d gotten Avalon fixed and were gone by now. Olympia Seven wasn’t too far from here by the metagate route.

A short while later, Jeth joined his crew in the common room, along with Dax and Sergei. Jeth felt better than he had in days. Avalon was there, docked less than a kilometer away. They hadn’t been able to get a life signs read on the ship due to the type of security system in the spaceport, but so far he was hopeful Milton was still there.

Dax opened a hidden panel on the wall next to the view screen and started pulling out firearms, which he handed to Jeth and the others. Jeth took his without hesitation. Independent planets could be rough. Moenia, unlike a Confederation-aligned spaceport, didn’t have any restrictions on civilian firearms.

Dax flashed a look at Lizzie, whom he’d given a small but absurdly powerful M.U.L.E. 32. “Do you know how to work that, little miss?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes as she ejected the clip, checked the ammunition, reinserted it, and racked the slide.

Dax grinned. “I guess you’ll do fine.”

Jeth almost smiled, too. He didn’t find Dax as intimidating as most of the Brethren. Mostly because he seemed so normal and decent. Jeth wondered why a guy like him would’ve joined the Brethren. Hammer said he only took those willing, after all. For some reason, Jeth gave Dax more credit than that.

Dax faced the others. “Everybody under age, which means all of you besides Serge, pick out a shoulder holster and get it adjusted. Make sure you keep your jackets on and don’t draw any attention to the fact that you’re carrying. Minors aren’t allowed sidearms here. Got it?”

“We’re not dumb,” Shady said, grabbing a holster out of the compartment.

Sergei shot him a glare. “Watch your mouth.”

Dax patted Sergei on the shoulder. “Take it easy now. Hammer has me running this show, and I don’t mind the kid’s mouth.”

Sergei grunted in a way that told Jeth two things. First, that what Dax said was true—he was running the show. And second, that Sergei wasn’t happy about the arrangement.