Agnieska had just finished running a diagnostic on her suit when Tajo came stomping into the zeobay, teeth bared and hair bristling. He was short and slight, with skin so dark it was almost black and a close buzz of graying hair. But he glared up at her with the ferocity of a tiny dog backed into a corner.

“How’s the suit?” he demanded.

“Impact damage to the lower extremities, but it could have been worse. I didn’t fall that far. I can swap in a few parts from our spares and get it up and running again before the next run.”

“What you will do,” he said, thrusting a finger down toward the table against the wall, “is sit your arse down and tell me who that girl was and why she called you her little mousey.”

“Just Mouse,” muttered Agnieska.

“Don’t make me start throwing things. Because if I do, I’m starting with all your crap.”

She did not want to have this conversation. In fact, she had avoided taking on a partner for a long time just to avoid it, but after she nearly died at Vervane, she’d finally given in. Tajo had been the perfect choice. His gruff exterior had been designed to protect his own secrets, and he’d shown no desire to prod at hers. They’d grown to trust each other in slow stages based on their present and not their past, which suited her just fine.

But now she was faced with a choice: flat-out refuse to answer his questions or ’fess up. If she stonewalled him, he would probably leave, and she couldn’t blame him. After all, what he didn’t know could literally kill him. Especially when what he didn’t know involved her sister.

She took a deep breath in the hopes that it would slow her galloping heart, but the gesture failed to have the desired effect. Sighing, she sat down, gesturing for him to do the same.

“Well?” he demanded, plopping into the chair.

“What are you, a toddler? Have a little patience. The story is complicated, and I’ve got to put it into tiny words so you can understand.”

Some of the tense agitation in his shoulders bled out, and his teeth flashed at her.

“Nice,” he said.

“Yeah.” She stared at the table between them, eyes fixed on the smooth plasticine surface. It was much easier than looking at him while she spoke. “That was my sister.”

“Didn’t know you had family. Is this a personal thing, or something I should be worried about?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably.

She didn’t even need to consider that question.

“I’m fairly sure she’s a sociopath,” she replied.

“So I should be worried.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Agnieska risked a glance up at him. So far, he seemed to be taking all of this in stride, but she was about to rattle his cage a bit. “Ever heard of the Breeders?”

His breath hissed out from between pursed lips.

“So you’re one of those Lisses,” he said.

“Yep.”

The Breeders had begun as a small movement on Mól, the moon where Agnieska had grown up. Her great-great-grandmother Mokosh had become obsessed with the possibility of breeding the perfect pilot, and after Agnieska’s great-great-grandfather had died, Mokosh had sunk all of their considerable fortune into reproductive technologies such as gene selection and artificial wombs. By the time she handed the reins to her daughter, the family empire had grown to encompass most of the technology devoted to childbirth. Anyone within Mól’s cluster as well as most of their neighboring heliospheres who had a baby had been treated with Lisstech, even if they decided to carry it the old-fashioned way. Every scanner, every test, every gene therapy was linked somehow to Agnieska’s family.

Agnieska’s great-grandmother had chosen to only have daughters, sending them out through the Hundred Suns to collect the genetic material of skilled pilots as a part of a research project to map their genetics and allow for potential gene-selection of pilot babies in the future. None of them actually lied. But they kept some of the key findings to themselves, applying them only to direct descendants of the Liss line. Agnieska wasn’t quite ready to spill all of these gory details just yet. Really, they weren’t all that applicable to the situation at hand. Instead, she would stick to the relevant bits.

“My mother Vladislava is getting old,” she said. “I’ve got seven sisters, and she’s got to pick one of us to inherit Lisstech. We don’t exactly share well, and not only because Militsa’s idea of fun is to pull the legs off small animals. We all have different ideas about what should be done with the company.”

“What are yours?” asked Tajo.

She met his eyes for the first time since they’d sat down.

“I don’t want the damned thing. They can blow the lot of it to cinders and I’ll dance around the flames. I just want out; it’s all I’ve ever wanted. The Hound is my home,” she said.

“But they won’t let you go.”

“Bingo. Mom sent us all out into the world to prove that we should be the heir. At the end of one standard year, we’re supposed to report back home with our stash of DNA or assets or corpses or whatever nonsense we think will impress an old woman who never looks at one of her own offspring except as a walking science project. I’m not playing.”

“Ah,” he said.

He sank a lot of meaning into that single syllable, as if he understood her now. Sure, maybe this story formed the nucleus of her discomfort with kindness, but it wasn’t the whole story. Not by a long shot. But she wasn’t about to say that.

“You’d think that if this was a competition, they’d welcome you dropping out of it,” he observed.

“They can’t comprehend anyone wanting out. They think I’m lying, because it’s something they’d do. Most of them, anyway. Lena’s a halfway-decent person. Maybe if we could be honest with each other, it would turn out that we’re on the same side. But I’ve never been willing to take the risk.” She paused, reluctant to say this next bit, but he needed to understand how big of a threat her family posed. “They killed Zosia. My youngest sister.”

He jerked upright.

“You sure it was them?”

“My mother would have gone to war if the killer had been anyone else. She didn’t. I’m assuming Militsa was responsible, but that’s just an educated guess. She’s tried to kill me twice and came pretty close on Vervane.”

He hissed out a slow, steady sequence of swear words. She waited while he worked it out of his system.

“Okay,” he said finally. “What now?”

“She said I have something that belongs to her. Either she’s lying, or I’ve got to figure out what it is and get rid of it. If I can point her in that direction, it’ll throw her off my scent.”

“Then what?”

“Then I disappear. I’ve been saving. A few years from now, I’ll pop up with a new name and a new ship. Maybe a new face, if I can figure that out. Agnieska Liss has to die, or I’ll never be free.” She sighed. “Which isn’t fair to you, I know. But like I said when I bought this ship, fortune’s a bitch. Like any hound, it’ll bite you if you’re not careful. I’ll sell the ship, as much as I hate the idea, and I’ll split the proceeds with you to help set you up. I’d give it to you, but I can’t guarantee that Militsa wouldn’t try to blow it up.”

“Let’s cross that jump when we get to it,” he said gruffly. “First, we’ve got to figure out what your bait is. Think it’s the package?”

“It better be, or we’re dead.”