“That,” Jax said, pointing at a brown wrapper. “It says TerroPac, doesn’t it?”

“TerroPac Express,” Runstom said, flattening it out. “From Terroneous.”

“The moon?”

Runstom ran his hand across the empty packaging, either to flatten it out more or to verify it was real and not a figment of his imagination; Jax wasn’t sure which. Then the officer lifted his head. “This is it, Jax. This is a real lead.”

It hit Jax then how significant the find was. They’d gone from chasing an impossibility to grasping something so tangible it refused denial.

They stood up and moved aside while the Gar-bots undid the mess they’d made.

“Well, shit,” Jax said. “Now what do we do?” He wondered if it was time to contact the rest of ModPol, but he hesitated in suggesting it. As solid as the lead felt, he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which they would let him off the hook on just a lead.

“I don’t know,” Runstom said. “We have options. Come on.”

“Officer Stanford Runstom. This is Captain Inmont. A ModPol patroller scanned Royal Starways Interplanetary Cruise Delight Superliner #5 last week and according to their docking logs, your credentials were used as identification there a few weeks ago.”

“We understand you came aboard the superliner with an unidentified passenger. We’re sending a wagon out to pick you up. Along with whomever you’ve got with you, if it’s another ModPol employee or a prisoner. Of course, that’s assuming the person listening to this message is Officer Stanford Runstom. If you’re not Runstom, and you’ve illegally used his credentials, you will be arrested immediately.”

The audio clip crackled and then died out. Runstom stared at the speaker in silence. Jax stood behind him and turned the empty package they retrieved from the trashitorium over and over, as if he hadn’t already examined every centimeter of it.

Finally, Jax said, “Well, I guess you can’t stay dead forever.”

Runstom didn’t look up. “Get everything together. We’re leaving very soon.”

“How long do you think it will take them to get here?” Jax said weakly.

Runstom ignored him, punching a button on the com.

“ComOp,” the speaker said, after a few pops.

“This is Runstom, one of the guests staying in the spare servants’ quarters. Room C-28.”

“Yes, sir, I’ve got your room number on the display here. What can I help you with?”

“I just listened to a message. Can you tell me when it was received?”

“Yes, sir.” Some tapping came through over the speaker. “The only message you got today came in about two and a half hours ago. It was listened to by you about three minutes ago.”

“Please reset its status to ‘unlistened’.” Runstom’s voice took on the tone it adopted when he wanted to be clear that he was issuing a non-negotiable command.

“Um, okay,” the ComOp said. “I guess I can do that.”

“Then do it.”

“Um.” Tapping sounds. “Okay, Mister Runstom. You have one message received approximately two and a half hours ago. It has not been listened to. Is there any—”

Runstom stabbed the disconnect button on the com. Jax looked at him curiously. “What was that all about?”

“We don’t have a lot of time before they get here.” Runstom began rummaging around the room, pulling out a bag and throwing it on his bed. He began pulling notebooks off the desk and tossing them at the bag. “We need to get our shit together and get out of here.”

“Wait, what? You’re not going to wait for your captain?”

Runstom stopped packing and looked at Jax. “We’re too close now. We have the data chip and the package it was delivered in.”

“And Linda Parson is still on board. With the chip and the package, don’t you think that’s enough evidence to—”

“No, dammit!” Runstom’s olive skin was flush, turning it a strange color. “Listen to me, Jax. If they catch us here, they’re going to shut down this investigation. They’re going to toss this evidence into a locker and forget about it.”

Jax put his hands over his face and began rubbing his eyes. “Look, Stanford. If you leave now, you’re going to be in real deep shit.”

“What do you know—”

“Don’t give me that shit, Stan.” Jax pulled his hands away from his face and glared at the officer. “I’m not an idiot. You could just sit and wait for ModPol to get here and tell a harrowing tale of how you managed to escape the attack on that prison ship. They won’t be happy that you didn’t report in right away, but you’ll get off without much more than a warning.” He stepped forward, pointing a long finger at Runstom. “This is your last chance, though. If you take off now, they’re going to say you’re aiding a fugitive. And then you’re not going to be a cop anymore. You’re going to be a criminal. You can’t risk your career – and your freedom – for someone like me.”

Runstom was quiet for a minute. He stared at Jax long and hard. The only sound in the room was a low hum coming from the air vent and time seemed to stand still. “Jackson, it’s not just for you,” the officer finally said in measured tones. “You’re innocent. I know that now, beyond the shadow of a doubt. And if you’re innocent and they convict you, then they’ve locked up the wrong man.” His voice began to slowly get louder. “When the wrong person is convicted of a crime, that in itself is a travesty. But it’s not just injustice for the wrongly convicted. It’s injustice for the victims.” Now it was Runstom’s turn to point, and Jax reflexively took a step back. “And right now if they haul your ass to prison, it means there’s a murderer out there roaming free and they are just pretending he doesn’t exist. The real murderer is responsible for the deaths of thirty-two people and I’m not going to let him get away with it. Proving your innocence means bringing someone else to justice.”

Runstom turned away and started furiously grabbing clothes out of the closet. “Now get your shit together because we need to get off this goddamn superliner ASAP.”

Less than half an hour later, they were back in the stolen personnel vessel. It was repainted and stocked up on food and fuel. Over the weeks they’d cleaned it out a little, but there wasn’t much in it that had needed disposing of. They’d kept all the weapons, the armor, and the spacesuits. They brought a few changes of clothing with them, a couple crates of wine, and the opened package that Linda Parson’s cookies came in.

By the label they could see that it was delivered by TerroPac Express, a delivery company located on Terroneous, one of the moons that orbited Barnard-5. There were some other data on the label, but Jax and Runstom couldn’t make heads or tails of it, other than the number of the office on the moon that the package was shipped from. No matter what, getting to Terroneous was the first step; from there, they’d have to find the next.

Jax wasn’t really sure about how much trouble Runstom had gotten himself into by this point. He was not convinced that the officer would get off with simply a strict talking-to from his captain, and he was still feeling the pangs of guilt about it as they prepped the ship for takeoff. He knew this was the last chance that Runstom had to turn back and forget the whole thing and live his life just like he did before he met the operator.

Whenever Jax tried to broach the subject, in those last few moments docked in the superliner, he would look at Runstom and see the determination on his face. The officer was capable of making his own decisions. It would be an insult to question his courage or his dedication. Runstom was a detective stuck in a dead-end officer position, much like Jax was stuck in his dead-end life. Except Runstom actually had the will to move up. Jax had the talent, and had always allowed himself to wallow in mediocrity. Just because he’d always been content to be stagnant, he didn’t have the right to discourage Runstom from taking control of a situation. Even if it did mean cutting off the easy route.