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“I’ll only be a moment,” Anyta promised before rushing off.

Moments were a conveniently vague unit of measurement. It had been a moment since Vela last checked her wrist-console for messages, a moment since she added a new encyclopedia to her library, a moment since she fell asleep in Fyn’s arms, lulled by the sound of his breathing. Another moment, or two, or twenty of waiting wouldn’t kill her, though it would probably try its damndest.

The sitting room was cramped and cluttered. Handprints smudged the plaster walls, and a storm of toys littered the floor. A portrait of a woman, framed in gold, was the family’s final vestige of wealth. It must have been a sentimental keepsake. Otherwise, they would have sold it to purchase more space. Hopefully, Fyn’s funds would grant them at least that much.

Vela had been waiting only a few minutes when three young children raced into the room, playing tag, of all possible games. Blinking a pesky sting from her eyes, she looked past them to the screen in the corner. The animated antics of a pink Cetaloid and his pet anemone had nearly succeeded in distracting her when the program flashed over to breaking news.

“We’ve received word of a high-profile prison break.” The reporter read directly from a print sheet. “A prisoner vanished from his cell in Tenibris Delta overnight, leaving authorities flummoxed. As of yet, details of the escape are vague, but Central has requested that anyone with information call…”

Vela was so lost in the newscast that she nearly missed the chirp of her wrist-console. The second an envelope appeared on the screen with neither sender’s name nor subject line, she trapped a breath and clicked it open.

Having wanted to visit the desert planet of Haset for decades, she readily recognized the set of coordinates that greeted her. She scrolled right past them to find the simple, three-word message she’d dreamed of but hadn’t dared hope for:

Tag, you’re it.