ZETH STRETCHED TO RELIEVE the tension headache gathering at the base of his neck. No doubt Rel was drinking himself into a coma while Zeth was stuck in the rear tray of a crop carrier, squished between some foul-smelling orange balls of fruit and the unrelenting steel floor. He couldn’t shake his lingering annoyance at his interrogation by the local authorities. They’d hit him with question after question about how he’d found the security guard’s body and the telnaks he’d accused of doing the actual murder. The locals didn’t want to believe him. He saw it in the stubborn officer’s eyes and in the flash of his teeth. Still, they’d let him go, though they were probably tracking him somehow. Zeth hadn’t spotted any eyes following him, but he could feel them. Even through the walls of this car
