Avalon

CHAPTER 04

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THAT SHIP?”

Jeth hid a wince as he stared at the man on the video screen. They were only now within docking range of the Ferdinand, the enormous ship that served as one of Hammer’s chop shops, and already one of the operators had noticed the damage to the Montrose. Must be worse than I thought.

A lot worse, as Jeth found out once they finished docking.

On the outside, the Ferdinand appeared to be an ordinary Tetra Freighter, the kind used to transport goods across the galaxy from one star system to the next. And for the most part, the Ferdinand did just that. Only the goods weren’t fresh off the assembly line or harvested out of the fields of some agricultural planet, but disassembled pieces of stolen spaceships.

The moment Celeste landed the Montrose on the flight deck of the Ferdinand’s converted cargo bay, a swarm of chop techs surrounded them, ready to tear the Montrose apart.

Jeth stood up from the copilot’s chair, hearing the distant thump and grind of machinery. By the time he reached the living quarters more technicians were already inside. He recognized one of them as the chief operator, a man he knew only as Bentley.

“Run into a bit of trouble, did you?” asked Bentley, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops.

“A little,” said Jeth. It could have been worse, he thought. At least Celeste had been right, that Renford had gotten off the ship at Kordan.

Bentley grunted but didn’t ask for an explanation, which was fine by Jeth. He was still working out what story to tell Hammer, and he’d asked Lizzie and Celeste not to mention anything about Renford to Shady or Flynn until they were home and safe from any potential eavesdroppers.

“Well, go on then,” said Bentley. “The kitchens are still open if you want to eat before heading home.”

“Great,” said Lizzie from behind Jeth. “I’m starving.”

Bentley offered her a rare smile but didn’t comment.

“Did somebody mention food?” a familiar voice asked.

Jeth glanced past Bentley to see that Flynn and Shady had arrived, both of them eager to take a look at the spaceship they’d helped boost.

Bentley eyed the newcomers, his gaze coming to rest on Flynn, who’d spoken. “Boy, you sure do look like you could use an extra meal.”

Flynn grinned. The gesture emphasized the narrowness of his face, making his pointed chin even pointier. Flynn Emerson might’ve been thin and slight, but he had the appetite of someone three times his size. His role in the Malleus Shades was that of engineer, responsible for the fixing and building of their ships, weapons, anything mechanical really. It was lucky he was so good at it, given the cost of keeping him fed.

“Don’t let him fool you,” said the much taller and more physically imposing Will Shady. He had a face like a lion’s, with a broad nose and a wide, droopy mouth. His shaggy mane of blond hair exaggerated the resemblance. A smattering of crude tattoos lined his neck and hands. He smacked Flynn’s bony shoulder. “Never skipped a meal in his life.”

“Nope,” Celeste confirmed. “The world would come to an end first.”

A dubious look crossed Bentley’s face, but before he could comment—if he would’ve commented—another technician came charging up the corridor and said, “Got some bad news, sir.”

Jeth held his breath, bracing for whatever new disaster was coming. Maybe they’d been wrong about Renford.

“It’s the metadrive,” the technician said.

Bentley didn’t reply, but turned and headed down the corridor toward the engineering deck.

Waving for the others to stay put, Jeth followed after Bentley, wanting to see the damage for himself. He didn’t understand how the metadrive could’ve been affected by the firefight at Kordan. They hadn’t sustained any major hits, and the metaspace jump had gone just fine.

Once in the engineering room, Bentley headed for the metadrive compartment. The compartment’s window stood open, with the metadrive itself visible through the glass. Not much bigger than a human head, the drive’s frame looked like any other piece of machinery, metal with thick black coils and other wires spreading out from it. But the power source at its center was comprised of an odd, colorful material that reminded Jeth of the coral decorating the inside of Hammer’s extensive aquarium back on Peltraz. It was bright orange except along the edges, where the porous material had started to fade to the color of bone.

“I thought this was supposed to be brand new,” Bentley said to no one in particular.

Jeth exhaled. “Hammer’s intel said Wellforth just bought it off the ITA a couple of weeks ago.”

Bentley grunted. “Sons of bitches. Why do they got to keep turning out these shit drives?”

Such outrage coming from the usually placid Bentley would’ve struck Jeth as funny under different circumstances. But at the moment he was too preoccupied with his own anger. New or not, this metadrive was a piece of junk, the odd discoloration an indicator that it would soon stop working entirely. No one outside of the ITA knew how metatech was made or even what the material inside the drive was comprised of, but everyone knew the universal signs of metatech on the verge of crapping out.

Jeth swore under his breath, his hatred of the ITA absolute. No matter how hard he tried, they kept screwing up his life. The damage to the Montrose was bad enough, and with the metadrive on the fritz, this job had turned out to be a total bust. He didn’t understand what the hell was going wrong with the metatech lately. Bitterness burned the back of Jeth’s throat, and he swallowed it down. At this rate, he would never make enough to buy back Avalon.

But he couldn’t think about that now. Couldn’t risk losing his cool in front of these technicians or his crew. So with a straight face and a churning gut, he headed back to the others.

“Let’s go,” he said.

They all knew him well enough not to argue.

By the time they made it home, it was midnight, Peltraz time. They landed the Scouts in their customary docking bays and then headed into the station. Even though everybody looked beat to Jeth’s eyes, he knew none of them would turn in just yet. They needed to let off the usual post-job steam.

“Well,” Flynn said, rubbing his eyes, “I’m gonna grab a sandwich at Five Fry’s if anybody wants to come.”

Celeste rolled her eyes. “The rest of us have normal-size stomachs.”

He shrugged. “More’s the pity for you.” He turned and strode off on his skinny legs.

Shady nudged Celeste in the arm. “Feel like some one-on-one? Sector Four is open late.”

Celeste shook her head. “I’m heading to Twelve.” “Oh. Right.” A smirk crossed Shady’s face. He’d forgotten that Celeste had recently decided on a new boyfriend—the only distraction she preferred over spending a couple of hours killing computer-simulated aliens in the game room.

Celeste winked. “See you later.”

As she walked off, Jeth heard Lizzie sigh beside him. He glanced down at her, an anxious feeling in his gut. “What?”

“Oh nothing.” Lizzie twirled a piece of hair around her finger, a lingering childhood habit.

“What’s a matter, Liz?” Shady wagged his bushy blond eyebrows. “Wishing you had a boyfriend to run off to, too?”

Lizzie went scarlet, and Jeth had to bite his tongue to keep from exploding at Shady. Why did he have to speculate? The last thing Jeth needed right now was adding that particular worry to his already full plate.

“No, of course not,” Lizzie said, a little too defensively. “I just hoped Celeste would go shopping with me. It’s not as much fun by myself.”

Shady backed up, hands raised. “Don’t look at me. I’m off to the games.” He turned and hurried away, as if fearing that Lizzie would con him if he lingered long enough. Jeth didn’t doubt it. The crew were a bunch of softies when it came to Liz.

She sighed again, casting Jeth a sideways look. “Don’t suppose you want to go?”

“Sorry, Liz. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Okay.” For a moment, her crestfallen look was almost enough to make him change his mind, but she brightened a moment later. “Maybe Cliff’s working tonight at the Garden and Menagerie. He might let me inside after hours.”

Jeth smiled, hoping she was right. The Garden and Menagerie was the safest thing she could be doing at Peltraz this late at night, short of being at home. He didn’t even consider forcing a curfew on her. She was getting too old for that. Old enough to get shot on a job. He exhaled. What a night.

“Be careful.”

“Yes sir, Boss,” she said, grinning.

Jeth watched her walk off, and then he turned and headed for home. To Avalon.

The ship was docked in one of the long-term bays in Sector 15. Only “docked” was too kind a word. She was imprisoned, and had been since Jeth’s uncle Milton had lost her in a card game in one of Hammer’s casinos seven years ago. It had happened not long after Jeth’s parents had died. Milton, who had been a doctor in the ITA for most of his life, defected in protest, taking custody of Jeth and Lizzie. The three of them left their home planet, Therin, aboard Avalon, in search of a suitable Independent planet to call home. Peltraz spaceport was just supposed to be a stop on the way, but once Milton lost the ship they were stuck.

Jeth had hated Hammer ever since. Working for him now was just acid in an open wound.

But at least Hammer had allowed them to keep living on the ship even after he took possession. Avalon was made for long-term inhabitation. And later, once the idea of forming a teenage gang of thieves had come to him, Hammer decided to let all of the crew live on the ship. “To ensure a familial loyalty among the group,” he had claimed. But Jeth knew it was really just for the cheap accommodations.

He didn’t mind though. It made the ship home for all of them.

Jeth took the long way, down one of the scenic pedestrian walkways high above the spaceport’s city center. Lined with glass on both sides, the walkway was built so you could look down at the sprawl of businesses or out into space and Peltraz’s renowned star field. Peltraz was a massive spaceport, easily the size of any of the major cities on the nearby planets and home to more than 300,000 people. There were hundreds of places Jeth had never seen in the city-state, entire neighborhoods he’d never even heard of.

Jeth wasn’t interested in the tourist views from up here. He just wanted a good look at his ship. Seeing Avalon from the outside always made him feel better. When he was kid, the sight of the ship meant his parents were home from whatever weeks- or months-long journey they’d been on. He rarely got to watch their departure, but he was always there for their return. Except for that last time, of course.

Even so, the sight still comforted him, which he needed right now. His dread about the inevitable meeting with Hammer over the fiasco at Kordan had been building inside him for hours. He would pay for the damage to the ship, one way or another. How much and with what currency, whether money or blood or both, he couldn’t guess. Hammer never seemed to react the same way twice. Once he’d even let Jeth off scot-free, but he doubted he would get so lucky this time. Not with the bum metadrive to boot.

When he reached the familiar point where the walkway began to curve inward, he stopped and faced the outside glass, dropping his gaze to the outlying docks. From here he could see Avalon. She was a Black Devil spacecraft, old enough to be considered a classic, but still as tough as they came. With her streamlined body, she looked more weapon than ship, something fierce and predatory. She was the best, most versatile spaceship around, fast and powerful, yet still capable of deep-space exploration. And with her own metadrive, she could take him anywhere he wanted and be completely off the ITA’s radar. And she’s mine.

Almost.

Jeth leaned his forehead against the glass and exhaled, his breath fogging the surface. He had to have her. She was his only way out of this life. His desire to be free was so strong it was almost a physical pain. He hated living here, hated being under Hammer’s heel, one of his tools. One of his toys, like Renford had said.

For the last few years Jeth’s plan had been to buy Avalon back from Hammer, gallivant around the universe for a while, and then finally settle down on Enoch, an Independent planet all the way in the farthest corner of the universe. Enoch was self-sufficient and wealthy enough to have a space exploration program he could work for—one day.

Jeth stayed there, staring at his ship, until fatigue made his eyelids begin to droop. After the third yawn, he turned and headed toward the nearest elevator. He rode it down to Sector 15 and started walking, navigating the complicated path to Avalon’s dock without conscious thought.

The longer he walked, the dimmer the light became and the less touristy the scenery. Sector 15 was the seedy part of town. The long-term docks on Peltraz spaceport were mostly inhabited by people who couldn’t afford the tax to fly their ships out of there or pay for housing in one of the nicer sectors. The further in you went, the more well-to-do Peltraz became. Hammer lived in a massive estate at the dead center of the port.

As he rounded a corner into the darkest corridor yet, Jeth froze. Movement somewhere to the left caught his eye. He clenched his fingers, wishing he had a gun, but civilian firearms were prohibited on Confederation-aligned stations, one of the few overarching regulations the ITA enforced. Only Hammer’s soldiers were allowed to carry weapons, and they served as law enforcement for the entire spaceport. The ITA agents stationed at Peltraz only oversaw the comings and goings at the public docks, leaving everything else under Hammer’s complete authority. So long as Hammer kept Peltraz in good standing with the ITA, his rule was guaranteed.

Still, that didn’t mean that whoever was lingering in the shadows ahead of him wasn’t carrying a gun illegally. Jeth looked around, hoping to see someone else nearby. No such luck.

He considered doubling back and taking another route, but he was so close to home. And I’m not a coward, he reminded himself. He faced danger all the time. He could handle whoever was lurking down here.

Steeling himself, Jeth marched on, but he kept his gaze fixed on the place where he’d seen movement. Nothing was going to take him by surprise.

As he approached, he heard someone moan. He stopped and squinted, his eyes adjusting to the dimness. A man was sitting on a bench recessed into the wall. Jeth must’ve passed the bench a thousand times before, but this was the first he’d ever seen someone occupying it.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jeth asked.

He regretted the question at once. This man was far from okay. Even in the dim light he could see that. The man looked like nothing but bones held together in a bag of human flesh. Jeth had never seen someone so emaciated before in real life. He’d seen a couple of photos of severe starvation in history textbooks, but the images were little more than vapor compared to the real, visceral presence of such suffering. The sight made Jeth’s knees tremble and his muscles contract from a terrible mixture of shock and pity.

The man stirred on the bench, his eyes opening to narrow slits. “I’m hungry,” he said, each syllable strained from the effort it took him to speak. Even in the dim light, Jeth could easily count the bones in the man’s chest, exposed by the shirt barely clinging to his frail shoulders. Blue veins were visible in his forehead beneath his ashen skin.

Jeth took an involuntary step back, suddenly aware of how much the man smelled. Like piss and shit and death. Every instinct Jeth possessed screamed at him to run away. But he managed to stay put, body tensed from the effort.

“Hungry,” the man repeated. “Please.” Only a few teeth remained in his mouth, those black with decay as his body ate itself in an attempt to find the nourishment it needed to stay alive.

“I don’t have any food.” Pity choked Jeth’s voice, tinged with inescapable revulsion. The only thing in his pockets was Renford’s calling card. There would be food on board Avalon, though.

Then Jeth noticed the mark on the man’s forehead, two thin black lines in the shape of an X. The mark was so faded, Jeth at first thought it was simply more veins showing through. Now he understood. That mark had been placed there by Hammer’s order.

It was a fate reserved for the worst of offenses—betrayal. This man must’ve been one of the Malleus Brethren, the elite of Hammer’s soldiers. Jeth knew it because the lower order of soldiers, the Malleus Guard, were incapable of betrayal. The Guard were little more than slaves, all traces of identity and self-will erased by the brain implants they wore. Membership in the Guard was involuntary, a punishment Hammer reserved for offenders.

The men who filled the ranks of the Brethren, however, were handpicked by the crime lord himself and entrusted with his secrets and personal faith. To betray that faith meant death. But not an easy, graceful one. The X on the man’s forehead served as a warning. He was an untouchable. To offer him charity or help of any kind would be to risk becoming an untouchable, too, as if the man’s crime against Hammer were an infectious disease.

Cruel. And very effective.

The man sat up, his limbs shaking from the exertion. “Please,” he said again.

Bile burned the back of Jeth’s throat. Why hadn’t he gone around? How could he just walk away now? You have to, a voice hissed in his mind. If Hammer finds out you helped him, this is what will happen to you. And Lizzie. And the others.

Jeth closed his eyes, wavering with indecision. He knew what he ought to do, but terror held him in a paralyzing grip. As long as he and the others were at Peltraz, they were completely at Hammer’s mercy. He controlled everything, monitored everyone. Even away from the spaceport, they had reason not to defy Hammer. The man’s reach was long and deadly.

Don’t be a coward. Nobody will see. No one will find out.

“Please,” the man croaked.

Jeth opened his eyes, but he didn’t respond. It was better if the man not know that he planned to help him. Then there was no risk of him telling somebody. Still, guilt squeezed the breath from Jeth’s chest as he turned and hurried away, the man’s pathetic cries following after him like an accusation.

By the time he turned the corner toward Avalon’s dock, he was almost running.

He slid to a stop at once, his heart clenching inside his rib cage. Three men wearing long black coats trimmed in indigo silk stood outside the entrance to Avalon. The Malleus Brethren. Dread pounded in Jeth’s temples. They were waiting for him. Bentley had sent the damage report to Hammer already.

And now it was time to pay.