THEY TOOK TO HIM A ROOM MADE OF METAL. METAL FLOORS and walls and ceilings. They cut his hair close to his scalp then forced him to lie on his stomach atop a cold metal table with his face pressed against a padded hole. They strapped his arms and legs down, but it wasn’t necessary. Mere seconds after the injection the doctor gave him—the needle a sharp prick against his neck followed by a rush of cold that spread through him like nitrogen in his veins—a paralysis gripped his body. He lay there with his gaze fixed on the floor, his mind aware that the doctors were doing something to his head and neck, but his body incapable of feeling it.
He heard the soft whir of some machine kicking on. It sounded like a drill. One that would dig into his skull, carving out a sheath to house the implant.
Guard or Brethren.
There was no question which he would choose. But how would he ever be able to convince Hammer to make him the latter? He had no aces left, no bargaining chip. Nothing at all.
The whirring grew louder. The doctors pressed in close to him. Another needle pricked his neck. This time the medicine took him under, too deep even for dreams—or nightmares.
They didn’t give him time to recover after the procedure. The second he was awake, Hammer’s men hauled him up while the doctors watched silently. Jeth swayed on his feet, too dizzy to stand. The skin on the back of his skull burned like he’d been branded with a hot iron, but the rest of his head felt cold from where they’d cut his hair. The Guards caught him before he fell. Then they carried him out of the operating room and into a shuttle.
They took him to an apartment suite on the west side of the city, the area where most of the Guard lived. Realizing it, Jeth wondered if this meant that Hammer had already made up his mind. Of course he has. What could you possibly do to convince him of your loyalty? Nothing. Not even grovel.
As he stepped through the apartment door, Jeth noticed the lock was on the outside. He didn’t bother asking the Brethren why they’d brought him here. With Avalon gone, he had nowhere else to go.
But at least Lizzie and the others were waiting for him when he walked down the hallway and stepped into the common area. He kept a hand on the wall to steady himself. Lizzie took one look at his bruised and bloodied face and burst into tears. She threw her arms around him, and he yelped in pain.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Way to go, Liz,” Celeste said. “Do you think Hammer’s men only work over faces? They beat him everywhere.” Celeste grabbed Jeth’s shirt and hauled it up, revealing a dense patch of bruises beneath. Lizzie gasped. The sound cut off abruptly, as if she’d lost the ability to breathe.
Jeth hissed as Celeste’s knuckles grazed him. He felt as if his entire body had been rubbed with sandpaper.
“Don’t be such a baby,” Celeste said, but Jeth heard the concern in her voice. She pulled his shirt all the way off.
“Damn,” Shady said. “How’re you still standing?”
“Because he’s Jeth,” said Flynn, a note of affection in his voice, along with a tremor.
Lizzie ran her hand over Jeth’s shorn hair. “Why did they cut it?” He flinched away, terrified she would discover the answer. “Why did they do any of this?”
“We tried to pull one over on Hammer,” said Shady. “What did you think he was going to do when he found out?”
“But we didn’t tell him about that.” Lizzie scanned each face. “None of us told him the true story.”
“I don’t think it mattered,” said Flynn.
Celeste sighed. “Come on. Let’s get these cleaned up. I can’t believe they didn’t take you to the hospital.”
Oh, but they did, Jeth thought, and he resisted the urge to reach behind his head and feel the hole he knew must be back there, one large enough to sheath the stem of an implant. He prayed his friends would be too concerned with his face and bruised body to notice it.
Shady grunted. “Sure would be nice to have a doctor around to fix him up.”
“Be quiet,” Lizzie spat. She wasn’t crying anymore, but Jeth could tell she was teetering on the edge of it. He knew she held back because of how much it bothered him. He wanted to tell her it was all right, but he couldn’t find the heart. Nothing was all right. It never would be again.
Celeste led him to one of the bedrooms, the others following behind. She pushed him down on the bed. He didn’t protest, even as a sharp stab of pain shot through his skull when the back of his head touched the mattress. He wanted to lie on his stomach, but at least this way no one would see the implant architecture.
Celeste opened a drawer beside the bed, pulled out an electronic tablet, and started typing. “Head down to One-Eyed Johnson’s and pick up these supplies.” She handed the tablet to Flynn. “Shady, go with him.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” said Flynn.
“It’s the only option we got. I’ve helped Milton a couple of times.”
Flynn nodded, then disappeared through the door, Shady trailing after him.
“Liz, get a warm washcloth.” Celeste bent and pulled off Jeth’s shoes.
Jeth closed his eyes, too tired and hurt to be embarrassed by the attention. He heard Lizzie return a moment later, and she started to wipe his face with a damp cloth. It hurt, but not unbearably.
“Um, guys?” Flynn said.
“Why are you still here?” Celeste snapped.
“We’re locked in.”
Lizzie’s hand went still on Jeth’s face. “What?”
“Yeah,” said Shady. “The security system says we’re on lockdown until further notice.”
“What the hell does that mean?” said Celeste.
Jeth took as deep a breath as his battered ribs would allow. “That we’re not going anywhere. Not for a long time.” Trapped, trapped, trapped. The words pounded a relentless tattoo inside his head. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He thought he would’ve preferred actual chains to this kind of imprisonment.
Celeste let loose a long string of swear words.
“What are we supposed to do? Just let him lie here, bleeding all over the place?” said Lizzie.
“I’m fine.” Jeth forced his eyes open.
Lizzie scowled at him. “No, you’re not.”
“I am. There’s nothing serious.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Don’t argue with me, Liz. Not this time.” A tremor threatened Jeth’s voice, and he almost lost the tight grip on his emotions. “I just want to be left alone.” He met her gaze, his eyes pleading. “All I want to do is sleep.”
“At least let us finish cleaning your cuts,” Lizzie said.
“No. I’ll be fine. I promise.” The lie throbbed inside him.
Bright tears shone in Lizzie’s eyes as she frowned down at him. “What happened? What did Hammer do to you?”
Jeth turned away, unable to bear her anguished expression any longer. He knew she wasn’t talking about the beating. She could tell there was something far deeper wrong with him, that he was broken in some fundamental way. “Let me be. Please.”
Lizzie’s voice came out a sob. “Okay.”
Jeth shut his eyes as the others cleared the room, leaving him alone at last. When he heard the door close, he finally let go of the horror he’d been holding back inside, the overwhelming despair from knowledge of a future he had no hope of escaping. All of his dreams about owning Avalon again and flying away were dying inside him.
He started to cry then, letting the emotion leak out. He had to get rid of it, because he knew come morning he would have to embrace a new life, one without dreams or hope. He had to find a way to earn Hammer’s trust and to become one of the Brethren. He had to. For them. For Lizzie and Celeste and Flynn and Shady.
His family.
He had to save them from the fate that waited for him. He was all they had.
Hours later, Jeth crawled out of the bed, his body stiff and wounds still throbbing. He barely felt it. Somehow, through the night, he’d managed to cut himself off from feeling anything. Or at least from caring. He emerged from the bedroom, seeking a hot shower and then maybe some food. As the warm, soothing water poured over him, he raised a hand to the back of his skull and touched the hole for the first time. The skin throbbed from the slight pressure of his finger. He realized at once the thing wouldn’t be very visible. It was almost funny how small it was.
And yet how huge.
When he finished, Jeth returned to his room and rummaged through the closet, where he found some new clothes waiting for him. He slipped on a pair of pants and a shirt and finally a hooded jacket. He hoped the hood, lying thick and fat against his neck, would hide the implant architecture.
Summoning as much courage as he could, Jeth emerged and headed for the living room. Shady and Flynn were sitting on the sofa in front of a view screen, watching a show. Lizzie sat in an armchair, reading. Celeste was in the kitchen, sitting at the table and drinking a cup of something steaming.
“How’re you feeling?” Lizzie asked, setting aside the reader.
“Fine,” Jeth said as he marched past her, heading to the computer terminal on the far wall. He sat down and pulled up the access screen to the savings account Hammer had given him. He only had view-access, but it was a way to keep track of how much money he’d earned toward Avalon. Jeth made a habit of checking it regularly, and even though he’d resigned himself to the fact that Avalon would never be his and that none of this mattered, he entered his login name and password.
ACCESS DENIED
The large red words were like a punch to the chest. He sucked in a breath. He’d known it was coming, that deep down the money had never truly been his, but it still hurt.
He had nothing now, not even the pretense of something to hope for.
Despair pressing down on him, Jeth closed the screen and punched up the link to his personal messages. He did it out of habit, nothing more. The only person who ever sent him messages was Brian Carvell, one of his old school friends. But those had grown fewer and further between as time went on. They had so little in common anymore. Brian was off to college soon, thinking about his future and a career in intergalactic law. Jeth was going nowhere.
The flashing icon of an unread message blinked at him as the screen opened. Jeth stared at it in surprise. The sender was listed as unknown. He clicked on it. The message was short, cryptic:
24-756-11-543. Come now. Hurry. —M.
Jeth reread it a dozen times, not daring to believe it was real. And yet he knew it was. He’d even known it was coming, deep down. That they had come through the other side of the metajump safely, and that, as long as he was still alive, Milton would find a way to contact him sooner or later. Although Jeth hated Sierra and Vince, neither had struck him as killers.
Jeth’s mind instinctively began to scheme for a way to get out of this apartment and steal a ship. Those numbers were undoubtedly coordinates, and he would fly there and reclaim Avalon. He could do it. He and his crew were the best around. They could find a way, especially here on their home turf, which they knew so well.
Except . . . what did it matter? What would he do once he had Avalon? Could they outrun Hammer forever? Would Hammer forget about them eventually?
No. Jeth understood now. Hammer did not accept losing. Sooner or later Jeth and his crew would be caught. Flynn and Shady will be Guard. Celeste and Lizzie will go to the brothels.
Jeth couldn’t let it happen. He wouldn’t.
And so, here was the answer to saving them. This information could be his ticket back into Hammer’s good graces. Jeth’s next steps formed in his mind as clear as directions on a map. He would offer this information to Hammer as a sign of a good faith. And he would volunteer to find Avalon and to steal the Aether Project. Convincing Hammer of his desire to succeed would be easy. All he had to do was picture the look of surprise on Sierra’s face when he took the data cell from her. If he could, he would leave her stranded somewhere, hopeless, just as she’d left him. Hammer hadn’t given Jeth any indication that he was interested in Cora or any of the survivors, just the information.
And when I return I’ll swear to join the Brethren. But only so long as he lets the others go.
It might be enough. Just maybe.
But they’ll never leave you behind, a harsh voice spoke in Jeth’s mind.
They will. Jeth glanced around at Lizzie, Celeste, Flynn, and Shady. They have to.