I'd been to countless Space Ports for my work. I'd always been wary of calling it a career because that made it sound too serious. Not that taking a life wasn't serious. I chose my contracts carefully, eliminating only the degenerates and evildoers. It gave me comfort that I was making the galaxy better—though I knew, deep down, every time I killed someone who deserved it, I was only chipping away at an enormous iceberg. It was a fight that could never be won. That's what most people didn't understand. The battle was lost already.

Space Port 66 was just like any other I'd frequented. Treacherous and fraught with peril. Only a fool would feel at ease there. I had been on edge since leaving Donnel's hangar bays.

I walked down a street with vendors selling their wares from stalls covered by canopies. Halfway down, I stopped at a stall and bought jerky. I wasn't ravenous—hot climates always seemed to kill my appetite, but I was beginning to feel hungry. As I continued on my way, hoping to find a cab when I reached the next street, I sensed somebody next to me.

The slight tug at my belt was noticeable straight away.

I held the stick of jerky in my right hand. I jerked myself to that side and snatched at a bare wrist with my left hand. I pulled the person toward me and swept their feet out from under them with a swift kick.

The thief hit the dirt and I immediately dropped down, pressing my knee to their neck as they squirmed beneath me.

The thief was a teenage boy. He had tanned skin, a mop of thick black hair, and fierce blue eyes.

"Stop struggling." The kid continued to try and wriggle out from under me. I applied more pressure, restricting his air supply. Anywhere else, I might have attracted a crowd of onlookers. But not on Space Port 66—the people around me continued on their way, uninterested. "I can press harder and you'll pass out. Is that what you want?"

The kid's tear-filled eyes pleaded for mercy.

I put the jerky away and patted the thief down for stolen items.

I couldn't find anything at first, but then my hand met something small and hard. In the short time he'd been next to me, the teen had reached into my belt pouch and stolen an Krian explosive. I pulled it from the teen's pocket and shook the deadly device in front of his face.

"Do you know what this is? It's an Krian explosive. Very powerful. If you armed this by accident and set it off, you would have killed half this street! That's a lot of blood on your hands."

He tried to speak. I eased up, allowing him to regain his breath.

"Sorry," he croaked. "Didn't know."

"An apology is worthless unless you mean it." I stood up and asked, "How old are you?"

He lay on the ground, still rubbing his neck. "Fourteen."

"Fourteen," I repeated. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead."

I considered, then made up my mind. "Come on." I offered him a hand and helped him up. To my surprise, he didn't run off like I expected. "Is this how you survive?"

"What?"

"Picking pockets."

"I do what I have to."

I shook my head. "Not the answer."

The kid looked ashamed and couldn't hold my gaze any longer. "It's all I have."

I've been there myself. Up against it. Forced to survive on your wits alone. Put in a position where there's nothing else you can do and the only choice is no choice at all.

I tucked the explosive charge back into the pouch. "What would you have done with this? Not used it, I hope."

He shook his head. "Sold it."

"For how much?"

The boy shrugged. "Whatever they gave me."

I saw a stall selling cold fruit juice in ice cups. I was thirsty and thought the boy was too. On Drift World, water was not a free commodity enjoyed by all.

"Come on. You must be thirsty, I know I am." He hesitated at first. But when I walked off, he tagged along behind me, wary in case I changed my mind. I ordered two cups of juice and paid the woman. Moments later, I took one cup and handed it to my would-be-thief. "Here you go."

He drank from it and I did the same. It was sweet—almost sickly—but there was an undercurrent of tartness. Whatever the fruit, the drink was refreshing. I watched the boy tip his head back, eyes closed, as he drained the last of his cup.

"Good, huh?" I asked.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "I was really thirsty."

"I see."

The boy squinted at me. "Why are you being nice to me? I stole from you. A moment ago you had me on the ground with your knee against my throat," he said, rubbing again at the place where my knee had been.

"Because everyone deserves a chance. You wouldn't have stolen if you didn't need to. Does that make sense?"

"I guess."

"By the way, you're lucky I didn't knock you out. One day you'll try it with the wrong person and end up with a knife in the guts or worse."

"Point taken," he said bitterly.

I looked at him. "Are there any cabs around here?"

The boy nodded towards the next street. "This way. I'll show you."

"Lead on," I said, following him through the crowd. "So is it true?"

"True?"

"Your parents. Being dead and all."

The boy didn't answer right away. But then he glanced at me and I could see the emotion in his expression. The hurt behind his eyes. I couldn't be sure how long ago it had happened, but it was clear the kid felt the grief of his deceased parents as keenly now as when it happened.

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"They were murdered three years ago. I've been on the street since."

"I'm sorry."

Losing a parent is like having the ground open into a gaping chasm beneath you, I thought to myself. I knew that first-hand.

The kid shrugged, but I could tell it was all for show. "I'll get over it," he said, nonchalantly.

No, you won't, I thought.

"Where do you sleep?"

"Wherever I can," he said, stopping at the end of the street and pointing to a line of cabs waiting a hundred yards away. "Take your pick."

I stood in front of him, arms folded as I considered my next move. My anger at the boy had dissipated within seconds once I'd properly looked at him. Once I'd realized he wasn't too different from how I had once been, many moons ago. Without parents. Living on the street. Waiting for luck to offer a lifeline.

I believed in fate and destiny bringing people together for a reason. Events shaping the future. The bad and good, all of it part of a big tapestry, an ever-unfolding story without an end.

"Do you know the hangar bays at the Space Port's edge?"

"There's a lot of hangars out that way. Thousands."

I sighed. He was right. "I know a man called Donnel. Do you recognize the name?"

He shook his head.

"Across the street from his hangars is a red signal tower with a rotating dish on top."

"I think I know it."

"I want you to go to that hangar directly opposite, ask for Donnel. Tell him Aurora March sent you. He's to put you up until I come back. Let you sleep there. Food. Water. Whatever you need. Understand?"

"Why help me?" he asked, sceptically. As if I were trying something.

Sometimes people need a break, I thought but didn't say. "Do you want the help or not?"

"I want it," he said.

"Then get out of here. Do as I said. Donnel's a good guy, he'll know what to do."

"Thanks," the boy said and walked back the way we came.

"Hey!" I called.

He turned back with a quizzical look.

"You didn't tell me your name."

"Poet."

"Really?"

Another shrug. "It means something," he said, then walked away.

I watched Poet go, then headed for the waiting cabs.

The observation tower at the center of the architectural sprawl of Space Port 66 was built to oversee interplanetary vessels. In the past, every ship arriving or leaving Drift World had been required to transmit an identification code. But those days were gone—pilots were free to come and go as they pleased. When I landed the Moth, I was not required to transmit my identification codes. It hadn't even crossed my mind. Drift World was lawless, without bureaucracy or government. The only law enforcement came in the form of mercenaries for hire. Citizens paid taxes so that someone like Jespa or Lerii could regulate the streets. Maintain order.

I wasn't surprised to find two guards at the tower's front door.

"I was hoping to speak with Lerii."

The guard on the left sniggered. "They all say that."

"Is that so?"

"Yep."

"Do they carry one of these?" I asked, presenting my license to operate across the Peripheries as an assassin, mercenary and finder of lost souls. I watched with satisfaction as the guard's eyes widened.

"No."

I pocketed the license. "Didn't think so."

I sensed the man's bravado diminish. "We have to be careful. You understand."

"You're doing your jobs. I get it."

The guard on the right looked me up and down. "That license doesn't guarantee she'll see you."

"I guess I'll take my chances," I said, making a second attempt to advance. This time, I was allowed to enter the base of the observation tower base without hindrance. The guard followed me in and escorted me through. There was an unmanned front desk, a vacant waiting area, and two ancient elevators at the far end. I wondered how long the tower had been there, realizing it must have been one of the first structures at Space Port 66. No wonder it looked dilapidated.

I called one of the elevators and got in. The guard didn't follow.

"Aren't you coming?"

His expression was blank. "No need."

I didn't inquire further. I pressed the button for the observatory at the top of the tower. The door slid shut and I felt gravity tug at my guts as the elevator rose. I hadn't needed to know which floor I'd find Lerii on. The observatory was the only place any self-respecting criminal overlord would reside. From there, Lerii could observe every quarter of her new kingdom with ease.

I knew why the guard hadn't ridden the elevator with me. They had security safeguards to protect their employer, like energy screens and neutralizers. The technology could disable a blaster, rendering it useless, or deflect any attack.

I'd be a fool to try, I thought.

I knew Donnel would criticize my empathy and good deeds, seeing them as a way to offset my job of killing people. But there was something deeper. My past. My trauma. The way I'd looked at Poet earlier and saw myself in Poet's eyes. His weariness and jadedness mirrored my own at his age.

The elevator stopped at the top of the tower. The door opened into a large space dominated by observation panels. It was hot, the floor-to-ceiling windows creating a stifling greenhouse effect. I walked out, looking for Lerii. The elevators were in the center of the observatory. I checked the entire room before realizing I was alone. There were chairs and tables dotted about, but the space was otherwise bare.

It was dead silent inside, the thick glass dampening the sound of starships and other craft above Space Port 66. So when the second elevator chimed behind me, I leapt out of my skin, spinning around with my hand on my blaster.

The elevator door opened and a graceful, demure human woman emerged, dressed for a cocktail party in a midnight-colored gown and tight blonde braids. She smiled at the sight of my hand hovering over my blaster. "That won't work here."

I relaxed.

"Not often I have a bounty hunter pay me a visit. Especially one with your credentials."

Ignoring the comment, I asked, "You're Lerii?"

"And you are Aurora March." Lerii extended a hand to me.

"You're not what I expect."

"I hear that a lot," Lerii said, leading us to a set of tables and chairs. "My approach is different from what these people are used to."

"I'd imagine."

Lerii sat and implored me to do the same. "When I took over, the place was gripped by fear. My first task was to dispense with that."

I said, "The residents seem happy with you."

"Good to hear."

"I heard Jespa met an unfortunate end."

Lerii's expression was unchanged. "Some things are unavoidable, Miss March. Anyway, how can I help you today? There must be a reason you came here in person."

I produced the quarry token for the second time that day and activated it.

"I tracked this individual here. He goes by Jed Teague. I believe he arrived on a commercial transport three days ago."

Lerii sat with her hands clasped in her lap, assessing me with her eyes.

"You're here to kill this man."

"Yes."

Her mouth broke into a full smile. "And you want my . . . what? My permission?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"I have no issue with you doing your job, Miss March. You'll have no opposition from me or my employees, if that's what you're concerned about."

"Thanks. I appreciate it," I said, deactivating the token. I was about to get up but Lerii clearly wasn't finished.

"I am curious."

I frowned. "About?"

"About why you're really here."

"I'm sorry, I don't—"

Lerii stopped me with a raised finger. "We both know you're here about the price Neko Hohst's put on your head."

"You've got me there."

"What can I say? I'm good at reading people."

"Yes, you are."

"And, Miss March, the bounty is considerable. Your reputation protects you to some degree. Or it has up until now. An inexperienced mercenary wouldn't dare to take you on. But that won't last. Someone will risk it for the large return. You have to expect that."

"This is where you're going to offer to help me out of this jam, isn't it?"

Lerii smiled. "Looks like I'm not the only one who can read people."

"Well, before you make me an offer I can't refuse, I want to say thanks, but no thanks. Nothing is free in this life, and I can't afford to be in your debt. So I'll respectfully decline whatever you might be about to offer, and fight my own battles."

"Fair enough. It's your life, Miss March. You'd be a great asset to my organisation, so it is a great shame you would not be able to accept my help in this area. But, such is life. As to your other area of concern, go from here knowing you have the freedom to do whatever it is you are here to do."

"Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to meet me," I said, and rose from my chair.

Lerii did the same. "This is a new age for Space Port sixty-six," she said. "I will bring civility to these people, and help them to succeed."

"More power to you."

"That's the idea," Lerii said, eyes flashing in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

On the street, I crossed to the cab. I'd told the driver to wait and compensated him for his time. I slipped my shades on and got in the back.

"Where to now?" the driver asked, setting off.

"Kwan's," I said, as the cab sped through the Space Port. Everything zipped past in a blur and when I looked up, the burning sun above was white hot and unwavering in its intensity.

I might have wondered why a planet like this would be colonized in the first place. But I did not question why someone like Jed Teague would choose to run there. It was the kind of place where you could make yourself disappear if you wanted to. And I had to find Jed Teague before he could do that—and escape my own brand of justice.