Neal wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his coveralls as he slipped into the corridor at the fuel depot.

In the end, to make things look less deliberate, he’d cut off the fuel supply to three sectors of the port, where dozens of ships were docked for refueling. It would look like a mechanical failure to whoever was brought in to figure out what happened—a chain reaction. The problem was solvable, but it would take time.

Time was what Neal was looking for, of course. His handiwork would keep the Vex 970 currently docked at NOMAD Station grounded for one or two cycles—and give Mik a little more time to find a way to liberate the human cargo on board.

Mik could never say that Neal had never done anything for her. He’d risked the integrity of his kneecaps—and that was the least of it.

You did your part, Neal told himself. You’re done.

Now he just needed to get out of here unnoticed.

Neal had spent enough time in the fuel depot to have a mental map of the corridors. He knew where he was going.

He turned another corner and almost slammed into Vera, a branded member of the Jed who had lived on NOMAD Station for years. She was half a head taller than him and broader through the shoulders, with wide-set eyes and skin that was blue and green in patches, like natural camouflage. Her skin always looked a little damp. A pair of antennae sprouted from her head. Neal wasn’t sure what biological function they fulfilled—detecting vibrations in the air, possibly.

Seven hells.

“What are you doing here?” Vera asked with a frown. Her tone wasn’t accusing—not yet.

Neal’s mouth went abruptly dry. He sometimes worked at the fuel depot, mostly doing small repairs or keeping an eye on some of the gauges when no one else was available. But no one had asked him to be here tonight. “I, uh…”

Vera stepped closer to him, causing him to take a step back to compensate. He’d given her no reason to dislike him, as far as he knew. But they weren’t close, either. He had no real friends among the Jed. “You weren’t scheduled tonight, were you?”

“I’m… heading to medbay right now,” Neal bleated. He felt himself beginning to sweat, which he hoped would add to the realism.

Vera narrowed her eyes. “We don’t pay you to do repairs in medbay.”

“No, no—I’m sick,” he told her quickly, coughing a little into his hand for effect.

“Sick?” She leaned back a little, out of instinct.

“Yes,” he said, feeling more confident in the lie now. He reached into his memories for some vague-sounding jargon he’d heard from Orville, the medic he bummed around with in part because neither of them had many other options for companionship.

“I think I have a viral disease of the upper respiratory tract.”

Many species considered humans to be disgusting in general—from their many strange and unnecessary biological functions to their basic physiology. Humans were also thought to be disease-ridden, which made them dangerous. Neal had encountered more than a handful of xenos, on this station and elsewhere, who refused to touch him for fear of catching something. (It was just as well—Neal didn’t want to be touched, either.)

Even the aliens who weren’t hopeless hypochondriacs were afraid of contracting a human illness, however common or minor. An ailment that merely inconvenienced Neal might be fatal for any number of species.

Vera seemed to process that.

“So you…”

“It’s infectious,” Neal went on with a croak. He made a show of coughing into his hand again, louder this time.

At that, Vera recoiled. She took a staggering step back, hands lifted as if to ward him off.

“You go to medbay,” she said firmly, like it was her idea. “Put a mask on, too, while you’re at it, so you don’t breathe your disgusting human germs into the air.”

“Right. Will do,” Neal said. He pulled the collar of his shirt up to cover his mouth as he stepped around Vera and ducked into the next corridor, breathless with relief.

This, he told himself, was the hard part over with.

•••

Neal banged on the hull of Mik’s ship, which was docked on the far end of the port, until the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss.

“It’s done,” he said immediately—then stopped short when he saw who was in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

Delphine grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside. The door sealed shut a moment later.

Unsurprisingly, the interior of Mik’s ship was dim and cramped. The hull seemed too close around him, like it was getting smaller all the time, and the only illumination came from a couple of portable lamps and a strip of auxiliary lighting that ran along the floor. Neal spotted a tiny kitchenette area with a sink and cupboards. There was nowhere to sit except for the narrow, rumpled bed, currently occupied by Mik.

She looked up at him with dark eyes. “You really did it?”

“Three sectors,” Neal said, feeling vaguely nauseated when he thought about it again. “I hope you realize what I just did for you.”

If the Jed found out that he was involved in whatever Mik was planning, they would take their pound of flesh from him and then some. He would never climb out of this hole.

“It’s worth it,” Mik said, looking at him like she could read his thoughts. Maybe she just understood what it meant to owe more than you could ever repay.

“It’d better be,” he fired back.

“Feels good to take a risk sometimes, doesn’t it?” Delphine asked with a smile.

In response, Neal scowled back at her, but Delphine wasn’t really the source of his frustration. “So she roped you into this mess, too?”

“I roped myself in, thank you,” Delphine said primly. Then she paused. “Now—we need your help with one other thing.”

Neal grimaced. He wasn’t sure when Mik and Delphine became “we,” nor did he want to find out.

“I’ve done my part,” he said, glancing at Mik. “More than you asked for.”

This was how he got into it with the Jed. Whatever he gave, it was never enough.

“You gave me the time I needed,” Mik said in a low voice. “Which I won’t forget. I’m asking you for something else. Really asking this time.”

She said it in a tone that implied she wouldn’t break his legs if he refused. That was encouraging.

For a second, Neal shifted from foot to foot, mentally weighing his options. Then, almost unwillingly, he thought of his sister again—of Priya, and how she would look at him if she were here.

At last, he sighed through his nose. “I’m listening.”