Proxy

CHAPTER 09

WHEN JETH AND HIS CREW ARRIVED BACK AT THE SPACEPORT they called home, Hammer’s soldiers were waiting for them. There were two orders of soldiers, higher and lower—the Malleus Brethren and the Malleus Guards. The Brethren wore black brain implants fixed to the backs of their skulls, a technology that gave them extraordinary strength, intelligence, and—according to rumor—the ability to communicate mind to mind.

The Guard, the lower order, wore clear-colored implants. These lent them strength too, but it also imprisoned their minds, erasing them forever. The Guard were little more than shells of human flesh, mindless slaves, alive but not alive. Living dead men.

“Where is the traitor?” one of the Brethren asked Jeth as he descended the ramp onto the flight deck. Lizzie and the others followed after him.

“In the brig. It’s unlocked.” There hadn’t been a reason to lock Danforth in. He hadn’t stirred once on the journey home. Jeth had a feeling the Odyssey might’ve permanently damaged his brain. Not that it mattered, given the fate that awaited him.

The Brethren who had spoken motioned to the Guard, and they stepped forward in eerie unison and marched into the cargo bay, their faces expressionless and their eyes vacuous. Jeth shivered. They might as well be robots or reanimated corpses. They did not speak.

They carried Danforth out a moment later, holding his body up over their heads like a sacrificial lamb on the way to the slaughter.

“Where are you taking him?” Jeth asked the Brethren, even though he already knew. But he couldn’t ignore the tremor of hope that he might be wrong.

“Surgery,” the Brethren answered.

Jeth exhaled. He hated being right this time. He tried to picture what Danforth would look like afterward—his greasy hair shaved short and his face a mask of nothingness from the implant inserted into the back of his skull, a clear one, same as the rest of the Guard. He would be Danforth no more, and he would never betray Hammer again.

“Hammer wants to see you right away,” the other Brethren said. “We’re to take you to him.”

Jeth had guessed as much. He touched the pocket of his flight jacket, which he’d put on after he’d showered and changed back into his own clothes. The ruby, or whatever it was, lay inside it. He was anxious to turn it over.

Some fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Hammer’s estate, located at the center of the spaceport. To Jeth’s surprise, the Brethren didn’t take him to one of Hammer’s offices or meeting rooms but rather into the private gardens. The heavy perfume from the flowers and the dark smell of earth and plants filled Jeth’s nose and made him momentarily dizzy.

“He’s through there,” one of the Brethren said, pointing at a vine-covered trellis.

Jeth walked through it alone and spotted Hammer sitting on a veranda. Once upon a time, it might’ve seemed odd to Jeth to find such a place on a spaceport—a real-life garden with simulated sunshine overhead, enough to warrant the covering on the veranda—but he knew that the appearance of wealth and power mattered more to Hammer than anything else. And a garden like this in the middle of space was decadent in the extreme.

“Hello, Jethro,” Hammer said from the lawn chair he was reclining in. He raised a glass, cloudy with condensation and full of some brown liquid over ice, and took a long drink. He was a big man, both in muscle and fat, his shoulders wide and arms thick, his belly prodigious. Like his soldiers, he wore a brain implant, a red one fixed to his skull like a parasitic spider. Hammer set the glass on the table next to him. “Do you have the ruby?”

Jeth pulled the stone from his pocket and handed it to Hammer, who accepted it with one meaty hand. He examined the so-called ruby, a pleased expression rising to his face.

“Excellent. Congratulations on another successful job.”

Normally, Jeth didn’t engage Hammer in conversation unless he absolutely had to, but curiosity got the better of him. “What is it? I know it’s not ruby.”

“No, it’s not.” Hammer examined Jeth, his eyes like small black stones on his broad face. “To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what it is. Nor do I care.”

Of course not, Jeth thought. All Hammer cared about was the monetary value. “Who wanted it then?”

An amused smile spread over Hammer’s lips. The question had been impertinent, but Hammer was in a good mood. Jeth wondered why, a sinking feeling in his gut that it might be satisfaction over Danforth’s punishment. For a second, Jeth pictured Danforth on an operating table, the long spike of the brain implant being pressed against the back of his skull.

“The ITA,” Hammer said.

Jeth blinked, trying to imagine what the Interstellar Transport Authority would want with a random piece of rock and failing to come up with a single explanation. The ITA manufactured and policed all the metatech in the universe—the technology that enabled light-speed space travel. “Did they say why they wanted it?”

Hammer set the stone on the table and picked up his glass. “I believe they wish to study it for some project or other. But it’s all highly classified, naturally.”

“Oh,” Jeth said, some of his interest draining away. Where the ITA was concerned, he’d long ago learned to distance himself. His parents had been part of the ITA—up until the time they’d been executed for treason.

He supposed Soleil Marcel’s interest in the stone had been the same as Hammer’s. The ITA was the single most powerful entity in the universe, but they weren’t stupid enough to seize such an important religious artifact from one of their constituent planets outright. Asking for it wouldn’t have worked either; the Grakkians prized it too much. In those situations the ITA usually relied on the criminal element to do their dirty work for them. Jeth supposed it made for good business all the way around.

“I’ll have the payment posted in your account,” Hammer said, the finality in his tone alerting Jeth that any further discussion about the ITA was over. “And I suppose I’ll throw in a little bonus for Danforth.” Hammer grinned, the gesture an inevitable leer given the subject matter. “I appreciate your bringing him back to me in one piece. More or less.”

Jeth swallowed, regret and disgust souring his belly. “What about Lizzie?” He hadn’t wanted to ask, but he couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been there. It was all in the report he’d sent ahead of him.

“Well, now,” Hammer said. “It was a little bit earlier that I’d planned, but your sister more than lived up to the challenges of her role. I see no reason why she can’t assume the tech ops position right away.”

Jeth nodded, trying to keep his emotions from showing on his face. He couldn’t deny that she’d proven herself. She had gotten the job done, far exceeding his expectations. Her foresight and initiative in guessing Danforth’s intentions and then sending word to Hammer had saved them all. And she had been the one to locate and ultimately take down Danforth. She did seem ready to be a part of the Shades.

But Jeth hated the idea of putting her in danger. She should be in school, be a normal kid with normal troubles. She shouldn’t have to face down her fear of guns or wrestle with the possibility that she might have killed someone. He wanted to give her that normal life just as much as he wanted the freedom that owning Avalon would bring him.

Yet in his heart, he knew that ship had flown. It was too late to salvage a normal life for his little sister. Hammer had his mind set on making her part of the crew, and so it would be.

“Is that all?” Jeth asked.

“Yes, that’s all,” said Hammer. “Until the next job.”

Jeth excused himself and headed out the way he’d come in. The two Brethren were still there, and they escorted him out of the estate. Jeth found his own way home. To Avalon.

As he arrived, he saw Lizzie coming down the corridor of the long-term dock where Avalon was moored. He could tell at a glance that she’d made a quick stop in the shopping district. She held a package in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other. Jeth wondered if the ice cream would become a regular ritual for her when they returned from a job. All the crew had such habits, different ways to decompress.

“Hey you,” she said, coming to a stop.

Jeth grinned, relieved that she sounded like herself once more, the trauma of Danforth fading away faster than he’d expected. If we’re lucky she’ll never see him again. He didn’t think witnessing the change in Danforth as he became a Guard would be good for her.

Or me.

“What did you get?” Jeth asked, motioning to the package.

She beamed at him. “A new pair of boots. I’ve been eyeing them for weeks, and Celeste said I could afford them now with my cut from the job.”

Jeth sighed, grimacing.

Lizzie frowned. “Was that not okay? Am I not going to get a cut?”

He screwed his face into a happier expression. He had to make his peace with Lizzie’s place on the crew. There was no undoing it. And he had a feeling Lizzie wouldn’t want to undo it even if she could. The conflict with Danforth had been bad, no doubt, but bad things had a way of losing substance in the light of good things. Like ice cream and new boots.

“It’s fine. Just don’t waste it all and be careful what you spend it on, yeah?”

“Yes, Boss. You got it.” She saluted him with the hand holding the ice cream, tipping it dangerously close to her head.

“You’ll be wearing that next, smart-ass,” said Jeth.

Lizzie giggled and lowered her hand. She licked away the ice cream seeping over the edge of the cone. “So what did Hammer say? Am I officially a part of the Shades?”

Jeth nodded. “Welcome aboard.”

She grinned and saluted again.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on.” He stepped toward the door into Avalon. He keyed the code to open the lock and then headed in. The familiar smell of home filled his nose, seeming to warm him from the inside and to soothe his aches, both external and not.

“You know,” Lizzie said, taking another lick of ice cream, “I think I’m going to save up for a pet. We need one. A Malleus Shades mascot.”

“Oh, no you’re not.” Jeth fixed her with his sternest glare. “There’s no room for pets on a spaceship.”

“Whatever. Of course there is.”

“I mean it, Liz.”

She started to hum, ignoring him.

“Liz—” Jeth began again, but he let it go. He could tell she was just teasing him. Or at least, he was pretty sure she was only teasing.

Either way, it didn’t seem to matter as he climbed the steps to the passenger deck and toward his cabin. The job was done. As Jeth ran his hand along the wall of the corridor, as much caressing as communing with his ship, he felt the future drawing nearer than ever before. Soon Avalon would be his.

And he and his crew would be free.