Excerpt
The thrill of the job never got old. Jeth Seagrave
lived for it. For the way the anticipation sent electricity pulsing through his
veins, making his blood burn hotter, his heart beat harder, and sharpening his
senses until he felt like something more than human. A superhero from one of
the ancient myths of First Earth, perhaps.
You’re no hero. The
automatic thought skidded through his mind, barely registering. No, he wasn’t.
He was a thief. One of the best.
And that was all that mattered. Never mind that he was only
sixteen. Never mind that most of his crew was even younger. Together they were
an unstoppable force, a gang of teenage thieves their adult marks never saw
coming. The thrill pulsed harder inside him, and with an effort he focused on
the nav monitor in front of him. They would be entering the patrolled zone
around the planet Grakkus soon.
To his left, Celeste piloted the Debonair forward, her hands steady on the control column. Jeth
would’ve preferred to pilot this job—he would prefer to pilot every job—but he
and Celeste took turns. All of the members of the Malleus Shades held specific
roles that played to their strengths. Celeste’s forte was counterintelligence,
particularly the art of distracting marks. Jeth’s was strategy, and he
typically took point on every job. But when it came to piloting, he and Celeste
were equally matched.
Jeth drew a breath, still struggling to focus. He couldn’t help
it. The upcoming job was the most challenging, complicated one they’d taken on
yet. The target was located in a vault at the top of a tower only accessible
through the emperor of Grakkus’s personal bedchambers—not some insignificant
politician or petty crime lord, but an emperor.
Pulling it off would be like flying a spaceship through a solar storm without
getting fried. A grin threatened to break on his face. The job was going to be
fun, and with a payout well worth the risk.
At last the nav computer flashed an indicator that they were
heading into the patrolled zone.
Celeste glanced at him, her dark eyes narrowing. Straight black
hair hung in a blunt cut down to her shoulders. “Are you going to turn on the
stealth drive or what?”
“I’m thinking about it.” A part of him didn’t want to. The
so-called stealth drive was brand new and untested, at least by the Shades. If
it didn’t work, things were going to get a whole lot more interesting real
quick. And if it did work, well, then things weren’t going to get interesting. He couldn’t decide which he
preferred.
In the end, Celeste made the decision for him, reaching over to a
switch on a sleek new section of the control panel. Jeth sighed. It was the
right thing to do, of course, and there would be plenty of risks to be had once
they landed.
Or it might not work
properly, he thought, examining the nav monitor once more. Best not to
blindly trust some newfangled technology. Within minutes he spotted a blimp on
the monitor, a patrol to their starboard. The ship was far off, but within
range to scan them.
“What should I do?” A hint of panic colored Celeste’s voice. They
had never before flown so boldly through a patrolled area.
“Hold course,” Jeth said, not taking his eyes off the blimp. So
far the patrol ship hadn’t given any sign that it had spotted them.
“You sure you’re right?”
“Aren’t I always?”
Celeste snorted. “Do you want an honest answer?”
“Nope. I prefer my own version of the truth.”
“Right.” Celeste tightened her grip on the controls. According to
the instructions they’d received from their employer, who owned the Debonair, the stealth drive worked best
when the ship maintained a constant speed and course. Any sharp turns or
drastic acceleration or deceleration could turn up on a system scanning for
thruster signatures, stealth drive or no.
Maybe it was for the best that Celeste was piloting, Jeth
realized. He would’ve been tempted to test the theory of what constituted “drastic.”
They passed out of range of the patrol a few minutes later, and
Jeth sat back in the copilot’s chair, folding his arms across his chest as he
tried to ignore his disappointment. They flew within range of three more
patrols but moved past them without incident, finally breaching Grakkus’s
atmosphere.
Once through, Celeste headed for their rendezvous point, an
isolated forested area a few hundred kilometers outside of the capital city.
Beyond the bridge’s main windows, the first rays of sunlight were breasting the
horizon, heralded by a swath of purple, pink, and vermillion.
At last Celeste set the Debonair
down on a large stretch of tall grass the color of seaweed. She powered off the
engines and turned on the auxiliary, which would keep the shipboard systems
running, including the stealth drive. It wasn’t likely that anyone would spot
them out here—the place was well off the main thoroughfares, not to mention how
inhospitable the swamp surrounding them was—but Jeth decided not to point that
out.
Celeste stood and stretched, the movement languid as if she were
part cat. The dark, fitted clothing she wore aided the illusion. “So, what now?”
Jeth checked his watch, which he’d synced to Grakkus time. “I say
breakfast or lunch, whichever works, and then a couple hours’ R and R. The
setup man’s not due to arrive until fourteen hundred.” They’d had to get here
early to avoid being detected during landing. The stealth drive hid them from
sight, but it couldn’t disguise the sound of the engines or the wind raised by
the thrusters.
“Think I’m going to shower again, before—” Celeste broke off as a
voice echoed over the ship’s comm system.
“Um, Boss? We sorta have a
situation. You might want to get down to the common room.”
Jeth blinked, all his disappointment from their unadventurous
journey vanishing in the space of a single breath. It wasn’t often that Will
Shady sounded nervous.
Wondering if maybe the ship was on fire, Jeth turned and headed
off the bridge with Celeste quick on his heels. They arrived in the common room
on the deck below moments later. Jeth stopped in the doorway, surveying the
scene. There wasn’t a fire. There wasn’t anything amiss at all, as far as he
could tell. Shady was sitting on one of the sofas, his attention focused on the
3D projection from his portable gaming system, a wave of bloodthirsty robots
coming at him, each one falling to his simulated gunfire. The comm unit he’d
used to radio the bridge sat discarded on the sofa beside him, in danger of being
swallowed by a cushion.
Jeth approached him. “What are you doing?”
“Practicing,” Shady said, not looking up. The scowl on his face
as he let off a triple blast, drilling a robot right between its bulbous black
eyes, made his features look distinctly leonine, the appearance aided by his
shaggy mane of blond hair. Shady’s assigned role in the Malleus Shades was
ordnance officer.
Jeth put his hands on his hips. “We’re not going to be shooting
anybody on this job. And please tell me this wasn’t the thing I needed to see.”
Shady shook his head. “Nope. It’s in that storage locker.” He
pointed to the row of lockers along the wall across from them. “The one in the
middle.”
Jeth arched an eyebrow. He considered pressing Shady for more,
but knew there wasn’t much point. All the crew dealt with prejob nerves in
different ways, and once engrossed in his ritual video game, it was hard to get
Shady to concern himself with anything else.
Jeth crossed the floor to the locker in question, wondering where
the Debonair had been last. Their
employer used the ship for lots of different jobs, and it was possible it had
been parked planetside somewhere a wild animal could’ve gotten in. An image of
something furry and clawed and with teeth the size of fingers flashed through
Jeth’s mind. He wasn’t wearing a gun, and he briefly considered getting one
before finding out what had Shady so nervous, but then he shrugged and pulled
the door open.
There was something alive in there all right, but it wasn’t a
wild animal. Even still, it took Jeth several moments to come to grip with what
it was. Who it was.
Of the various star systems that make up the Confederation,
most lie thousands of light-years from First Earth—and out here, no one is
free. The agencies that govern the Confederation are as corrupt as the crime
bosses who patrol it, and power is held by anyone with enough greed and
ruthlessness to claim it. That power is derived from one thing: metatech, the
devices that allow people to travel great distances faster than the speed of
light.
