“Where the hell did you find this?!”

I shrug, leaning back in my chair. “Out and about.”

“Y-you—do you know what this is?”

“A very expensive space rock.”

“This is Junis, the rarest form of crystal fuel known to the Collective, never let out of government control—“

“Also known as one very expensive space rock.”

“I—yes, I suppose so. At this size, _very_ expensive. But how do you have it?”

“What can I say? I’m very resourceful.”

They lean forward, a lock of green hair slipping out from under the hood that hides their face, and I hear the faint _click_ that says they’ve pushed the button to deactivate all surveillance on the room. “Oakley. _Where did you get this?”_

I exhale, pushing my mask up out of my face so I can see them without the technology between us as they let the hood fall back—long, died-green hair growing out indigo. Pale, sun-starved skin with olive undertones. Piercing eyes, the color of which I’ve never been sure, as I can never remember exactly what they look like. Jem.

“I tracked a distress call in Sector Four-C to a downed freighter, floating dead in empty space,” I explain. “Not sure what took it out, but they were good, and fast. The beacon was cut off almost before I could track it, so I moved faster than usual, but by the time I got there they were already gone, leaving every worker on the freighter dead, the cargo hold empty, and the ship’s manifest wiped illicit-purchase clean. Even its ID number was wiped. I managed to catch the virus when I was trying to salvage information—here,” I pull the drive from my pocket and slide it across the table. “I don’t recommend plugging it into anything—it seemed remarkably hungry. I found the Junis in the cargo hold, but I don’t think it was the original cargo—they were too careful.”

“Everyone slips sometimes,” Jem points out, frowning at the hunk of vaguely iridescent rock, slightly smaller than my fist, resting on the table between us.

I shake my head. “I don’t think it was a mistake. Maybe the cargo was Junis, at least in part, but if so, then they wanted someone to find out.”

Jem knows me well enough by now to see the signs. “What are you thinking?” They ask, resigned to the answer.

“We’ve got a wider conspiracy here,” I say with relish. It’s been too long, I think, far too long since we were together. “Not just that—one with money, a superior fighting force, and sophisticated technology.”

“I know where this is going . . .”

“We have to find out more.”

“You’re already in the middle of one project—”

“This could be another facet of the same conspiracy! Or it could be someone else running in the same league. Either way, we have to find out.”

They roll their eyes, then laugh (oh, how I’ve missed that laugh). “You came at the right time. This job is predictable enough to be boring after a while, especially compared to running with you. I’ll run some tests on the drive and the Junis, then join you on the _Shadow_ in a few days.”

I stand up, sliding around the table to kiss them before pulling my mask back down. “Thanks, honey. See you soon.”

“Wait—the cameras.”

Oh, right.

Jem’ll have to make up a story to excuse turning off the surveillance, I think as I leave the building, once again looking completely like the lawless trader I walk as beyond the confines of the _Shadow_ and her glorious purpose. I’m not worried, though. They could talk their way out of anything.