While the band lived their dream at the Black Star, Jax melted into the crowds of Perro’s shipyard in search of the parts dealers he needed.

  He wrapped Sonica’s words around himself like a mantra. Focus on the parts. Focus on the ship. Don’t think about that jackass Liam. The Dust Devil is getting fixed. Just get what's on the list.

  He clutched the datapad like a safety line in open space. All shipyards and loading docks seem to have the same layout, like they're reading from the same blueprints, regardless of station. As familiar as the sights, sounds, and crowds were, it felt foreign after the past year. Jax had been alone for much of that time, sequestered behind a bar for the rest. Here, he felt exposed and vulnerable in the vast, efficient chaos of Perro’s industrial levels. It made his skin crawl.

  It didn't help that Jax’s mind refused to stay focused on the task. He kept reliving the tense, shadowed moment outside the lift. The sudden, unexpected surge of overprotective energy he felt. He had acted purely on instinct. A deep, automatic rejection of the violation happening in front of him.

  He didn't understand that feeling. Sure, Sonica's attractive. Not in the obvious way, Onda is perhaps, but her chestnut eyes and long dark curls had their own allure. He only knew that seeing Sonica coolly manage the dangerous situation made his chest ache with a bizarre mix of admiration and worry. Now he was off running errands while she was navigating genuine danger.

  Lost in the mental loop of Sonica and Liam, Jax missed the correct transit junction. He ended up on a disused maintenance dock, a dead end lined with decommissioned plating and rusted hydraulic arms. It echoed Okay's Dry Dock 7 so much he shuddered. Cursing softly at both the detour and the reminder, he turned back when a voice cut through the quiet hum of the docks.

  “Well, look at that. You took a long way 'round, little Jax.”

  Jax froze, the color draining from his face. Standing near a row of obsolete cargo containers were two figures he hadn’t seen in over a year: Rix and his sharp-eyed daughter, Vera. They were old acquaintances from his family’s courier circles.

  “Rix. Vera,” Jax managed, forcing a neutral expression. He mentally kicked himself for drifting this far off course.

  Vera stepped closer, her expression shifting from professional curiosity to something softer. Jax could read the undercurrent in her eyes, a mix of recognition and regret. “Jax! We haven’t seen you in, feels like forever.”

  Jax shook his head. “Yeah, no. I’ve been busy. I’m piloting a chartered jumper for a band, Negative Space. They’re playing a show on 24 right now. You should go see ‘em.”

  Rix folded his arms, unimpressed. “A band, huh? A successful courier running errands for musicians? Jax, your parents have been asking about you. They’re worried. We're worried too. I expected you to be captain of your ship by now. What happened?”

  Jax knew he couldn't admit the truth. A courier failing to maintain his own engine, leading to hull damage and being stranded, was the height of incompetence. The disgrace would follow him across the entire system.

  “Slight detour is all,” Jax responded, holding up the parts list. “The routes my parents wanted me to run were garbage. I wanted something better."

  "Huh. I thought they had you slated to run the Centauri Loop. That's a profitable circle," Rix reasoned.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "Safe, certified, slow. Established," Jax spat out. "They wanted me to be a mindless drone, sitting on my thumbs, waiting for fuel and babysitting the autopilot. They wanted me to be them,” Jax admitted, the resentment sharp in his voice. "My grandparents BUILT that route, relationship by relationship, station by station. My parents just run it by rote.

  “I told them I wanted to break out of the established routes. Take a ship and really move. See the outer rim. Run some risk charting new routes outside the old cycles. They called it selfish, irresponsible. Said I’d disgrace the family name that way.”

  Rix nodded slowly. “That part, I get. A man’s got to chart his own course.”

  Vera’s gaze was intense, tracing the lines of anxiety on his face. “It’s tough finding people who understand that, Jax. People who want more than the next scheduled port. Especially in this line of work. Don't let your family box you in.” Her statement was less advice and more a quiet acknowledgment of the shared loneliness of their profession, and the connection they once had.

  “So you just walked away?” Rix pressed. “Where have you been bunking up?”

  “I took a contract on Okay,” Jax lied smoothly, making the station sound like a choice. “The pay’s solid, and it brought me the needed change of pace. I’m here with a jumper for a quick run. We’re fixing up the Dust Devil, and I needed to stop for parts.”

  Rix and Vera exchanged a look. “The Dust Devil? That supped up space wreck you used to tinker with? It was one jump shy of a supernova, last we heard,” Vera murmured.

  “We’re sorting that out,” Jax sputtered. “Look, I don’t need my parents up in my business. You understand, right? If they hear I’m back in a core system, they’ll show up. Don't snitch.”

  Rix sighed, a knowing look crossing his face. “I won’t explicitly tell your parents, Jax. You’re an adult, in age at least. If they ask me, though, I won’t lie. Keep your head down. If you’re really fixing up the Dust Devil,” he shook his head, “a ship like that attracts trouble. Good luck with the rock stars,” Rix turned to walk in the opposite direction Jax was heading, but Vera stayed in place.

  She licked her lips and glanced at her father's retreating figure. "I'm happy to see you, Jax. I was not so happy that you disappeared without a word," she cajoled, lowering her head. "I was looking forward to seeing you at… never mind. I get it. Sometimes I want to just fly away, too." She let out a huff. "Look, I'll message you sometime. Please consider me a friend you can talk to."

  Jax only nodded, then was shocked when she kissed him on the cheek before starting off after Rix. "So long, rock star. Keep in touch, okay?" Then she was off.

  The encounter jolted Jax back into focus. The Dust Devil wasn't just a dream; it was key to the life he desperately wanted. Vera and Rix weren't bad. Maybe a complete shutout of the old life wasn't the best plan, he mused.

  Jax found the right parts supplier on his second attempt. While the required hull plates and the correct power couplings were simple to find on the automated kiosk, the final, critical piece-the high-density capacitor McKenzie had specified was out of stock.

  After twenty minutes of frantic searching and cross-referencing, Jax found a similar model from a different manufacturer. It was rated for the correct voltage, but the specs sheet clearly indicated a higher mass flow, pushing the component's rating above the Devil’s expected limit.

  He bought it anyway. He had to. The clock was ticking, and getting the wrong part was better than getting nothing, he figured.

  He paid the bill, watching their collective savings disappear with a knot in his stomach, and sat on a bench to wait for his order. Twenty minutes later, a bot stopped near him with a floating cart stacked with hull plates and boxes of other components. After the bot scanned his receipt, then released the cart to him. Jax grabbed the handle and began the heavy haul back toward the docking bay.

  After another 40 minutes of tugging the floating cart, navigating lifts, and dodging automated containers, Jax arrived back at the Hasty Delivery physically exhausted and mentally drained.

  Onda, Banderos, McKenzie, and Tré were already at the ship, standing outside like they were waiting for a bus. They were obviously a little buzzed, talking to each other excitedly, and their faces were alight with the manic energy of a successful performance.