Polaris (3 page)

Celeste glowered, that ferocious look back in her eyes. “Next time I get to play Capture the Most Wanted.”

“I certainly hope so,” said Jeth.

Vince touched Celeste's arm, his playful manner from a moment ago turning serious. “See you soon.”

She started to nod, thought better of it, and took hold of his face with both hands, drawing him down for a kiss. Vince recovered quickly from his momentary surprise and began to kiss her back in earnest. Celeste seemed to melt into him, her fingers sliding through the disheveled lengths of his hair, as black as her own.

Jeth scoffed. “Now? You pick now to finally do this?”

They broke apart, both a little red in the face, but not
from embarrassment, he could tell.

He shot them a halfhearted scowl before exchanging his own good-luck kiss with Sierra.

He stepped out into the corridor and said through the comm, “We're heading in.”

“I've got eyes on you,” Lizzie replied. “And I've almost got
Avalon
free.”

Vince joined Jeth in the corridor, and Jeth put his hands behind his back, letting Vince grab hold of his wrists with one hand while the other pressed the barrel of his gun against Jeth's back.

“You want me to wait for your signal?” asked Vince.

Jeth shook his head. “I trust your judgment.” Before joining the Shades, Vince had been an ITA soldier, part of an elite combat unit.

“Right. Let's go.” Vince nudged him forward hard, getting into character.

Moments later they came within sight of the Nuvali security guards. To Jeth's momentary panic they were indeed fixing explosives to
Avalon
's door. He tamped down his alarm and looked away, assessing the rest of the situation.

Most of the guards stood in a wide semicircle around those laying the explosives, but three of them were a couple of meters down on the other side of the dock, confronting a man whose long brown robe marked him as some kind of priest or holy man. He had the hood pulled over his head, but Jeth could see enough of his face to tell he was old, his cheeks sunken and face skeletal.

“We told you already,” one of the guards was saying, “if you need to get to your ship you have to go around. We can't let you through.”

Whether or not the old man listened, Jeth didn't see as one of the nearer guards finally noticed their approach.

“Stop right there.”

“It's okay,” Vince said, pressing Jeth forward. “I've got who you're looking for, but I could use a little help.”

The guard appeared dubious for a moment, and then excited when his gaze alighted on Jeth's face. “Captain Carson,” the man called.

Another of the guards, one in the center of the action in front of the door, turned and faced them. He wore the same navy blue, gold-trimmed uniform as the rest. The only thing distinguishing him as captain was a little extra gold on the sleeves and a dual-star insignia on the breast pocket.

Jeth drew a deep breath as the captain approached them. By his guess all the security guards were in range, minus the three with the old man, who hadn't retreated but was still arguing with the guards in that belligerent way old people sometimes did. Three was doable, Jeth decided, and the old man didn't present much of a threat. Now all he had to do was wait for Vince to come to the same conclusion and set their plan in motion. Jeth focused on the press of the .32 against his side, fixing its position in his mind and visualizing how he would grab for it when the time came.

Vince held still until Captain Carson was close enough they could count his nose hairs while he scrutinized Jeth.
Waiting was a good decision; the guards farther out pulled closer, both to back up their captain and to satisfy their curiosity. To them, Jeth must have looked like a walking, talking paycheck.

“Thank you for turning him over to us,” Carson began. “We'll take it—” The captain never finished speaking. Jeth felt Vince's grip on him release, and there was a faint pop, followed by the chemical hiss of the Little Felix. A moment later, Captain Carson and the nearest guard were falling to their knees, eyes rolled back in heads, bodies convulsing with mouths agape, foam covering their lips.

Jeth pulled the .32 free and took out one of the guards next to the old man with a shot aimed at his right shoulder. Vince dropped the other two, but neither of them had the heart to strike the priest who raised his trembling, rheumatic hands in surrender.

“Back up against the wall,” Jeth said, aiming at the old man. “Stay put and you'll make it out of here just fine, I promise.”

The old man nodded and backed up until he reached the wall. He slumped against it, looking tired and relieved. Keeping his gun fixed on the man, Jeth walked over to the three guards, making sure they were down for the count, and with his free hand, he relieved them of their weapons.

Satisfied the situation was secure, Jeth returned his attention to
Avalon
's door, tucking the .32 into the waist of his pants again, within easy reach if he needed it.

“Come on out,” Vince called, and Jeth heard Sierra and
Celeste running down the corridor toward them.

After a moment's examination, Jeth discovered that the Nuvali guard had been applying plasma charges, stable and relatively harmless until activated by the frequency device. He pulled the charges off and set them on the floor away from the door. Then he signaled Lizzie through the comm. “All clear. Open up.”

“Your wish is my computer command.”

Jeth grimaced. “We free of the locks yet?”

“Almost,” said Lizzie as
Avalon
's rear access door slid open.

He motioned to Sierra and Celeste. “You two head in. Vince and I need to scavenge what we can out here. Celeste, get us ready to fly.”

“We don't have time for this,” Sierra said, a question in her eyes as she looked at him. Those blue eyes were gorgeous but far too keen. He'd known the others would be able to guess he'd had to leave the tokens behind, but he'd hoped the pressure of the situation would've let him avoid the reality for a little bit. He thought he might be sick.

“We'll be quick. Trust me.” He inclined his head. “You should check on Cora.”

The mention of his youngest sister did the job of distracting Sierra. If Cora sensed how much trouble they were in at present, things might get exponentially worse. And nothing mattered more than keeping her safe. Especially now that the ITA had gone public with their search.

Sierra disappeared into
Avalon
after Celeste, and Jeth turned to the nearest fallen guard. The man's convulsions
had ended, and he had slipped into a coma. He, and the rest of them, would remain that way until their bodies were able to get rid of the poison, whether on their own or with medical aid. Jeth rummaged in the guy's pockets, pulling out cards, cash, anything of value, and stuffing it into his own pockets.

“You had to ditch the tokens, didn't you?” Vince asked as he searched the captain.

“Yes,” Jeth said, his gut twisting. He could think of no curse word strong enough to express how screwed they were. “The damn casino guard wouldn't let me leave the floor with them.”

Vince started to respond, but the sound of a throat clearing stopped him. Jeth turned his eyes toward the noise and saw that the priest had lowered his hood, exposing his skeletal face and a head of thinning steel-gray hair. The tentacles of a silver brain implant curled around the back of his skull, just behind the ears.

“You know,” the man said in a crushed-gravel voice, “a wise man once said if you meet a thief, you may suspect him to be no true man.”

Jeth stood from his hunched position, his mouth opening into an “O” of surprise, followed by anger as his brain translated the odd sentence. “What do you know of it, old man?”

Across from Jeth, Vince too had stood up, his gaze fixed on the priest and his hand prone before him as he debated whether or not to draw the gun holstered at his side.

“Oh, I know a lifetime of truths,” the old man said. “I am the Storm that Rises.”

Confusion furrowed Jeth's brow, the feeling made worse as Vince issued a strangled, panicked noise.

“Saar!” Terror filled Vince's voice. “Run!” he screamed, even as his fingers closed around the hilt of his gun.

Jeth reacted at once. In that moment, he was reduced to a herd animal, instinct rendering all thought meaningless, his own gun forgotten as he raced for cover.

Over his shoulder, Jeth saw Vince take aim, but he was too slow, and the old man impossibly quick, as if he stood in the faster stream of a different timeline. In slow motion, Jeth saw the man take aim with a gun that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

He fired.

For a fraction of a second, a moment of cruel relief, Jeth thought the old man had missed. But then blood blossomed like red roses on Vince's shirt, over his heart.

Jeth drew his gun as his friend fell, the light in Vince's eyes winking out.

But before Jeth could pull the trigger, the old man took aim at him and fired. The gun in Jeth's hand exploded, shattered by the bullet. Hissing in pain and with no way to defend himself, Jeth ducked inside
Avalon
and slammed his hand against the door control.

He caught a final glimpse of the old man before it closed. He smiled at Jeth, a look of supreme confidence on his face.
This is only the beginning,
that look said.

For I am coming for you
.

SHOCK KEPT JETH STEADY AS HE RAN ACROSS
AVALON
'S
cargo bay toward the ladder leading up.

“We're on,” he said through the comm. “Get us out of here.” The use of the plural didn't sting, not yet. What had happened couldn't possibly have happened.
Vince cannot be dead
.
He can't be. He can't.

The denial reverberated through Jeth with every step as he made his way to the bridge, two decks above. He didn't want to go there, didn't want Celeste to see his face and ask him what was wrong, but he had to.

At least he didn't come across Sierra on his way to the bridge. Facing her would be worse. She and Vince had been raised together as brother and sister, a bond strengthened through years of suffering at the abusive hand of their guardian.

But when Jeth arrived on the bridge, all thoughts of Vince were driven out of his head by the view through the cockpit window.
Avalon
was only now coming free of the locks, and at least a dozen Nuvali patrols were waiting in attack formation just beyond the restricted area around the spaceport. Jeth knew they wouldn't shoot to destroy—the ITA's bulletin was clear that he must be taken alive—but they would
do everything they could to disarm
Avalon
.

“Charge through them,” Jeth said as he raced past Lizzie at the nav station and sat down in the copilot's seat.

Celeste didn't even glance at him from her position in the pilot's seat. Her hands were steady on the control column as she pushed it forward,
Avalon
's engines roaring in response. The force of the acceleration pressed Jeth back in his chair. It was a risky move, but
Avalon
was a Black Devil, half the size of the Grenadiers that the Nuvali patrols flew. Jeth was betting they wouldn't fire at her directly during a forward advance. They would have to wait to get behind her and take out the engines and thrusters.

“Liz,” Jeth said, glancing back at her, “turn nav control over to me and then get up to the crow guns.”

“Okay,” Lizzie said, her fingers flying over the nav station screen. “I've got the metadrive spooling up, but there's no way we can make a jump with all these ships around.”

“Really? And here I thought we were hanging around just for kicks,” Jeth shot back as he flipped on the main comm. “Everybody to stations. We've got heat.” He realized too late that Vince's station would remain empty, and swallowing, he added, “Milton, I need you on the starboard guns.”

Now Celeste did look over at him, only for a second, but it was enough for him to register her alarm.

“He's busy,” said Jeth. “Don't worry.” The lie hurt, the truth of Vince's death finally breaking through his shock.
I left him behind
.

Desperately, Jeth schooled his expression into a mask. His
shame deepened at how easily Celeste believed him, her focus returning to the scene before them as she banked hard to port, avoiding a crash with one of the patrols that had flown toward them on a collision course.

Jeth took hold of the copilot guns, aimed at the incoming patrol, and pulled the dual triggers. Gunfire lit up the space before them and slammed into the Grenadier's starboard thrusters. Jeth's aim was true, but it would take a lot more hits to penetrate the ship's shields.

Once past the first patrol, Celeste banked again, taking a risky path in between two more patrols flying almost on top of each other.
Avalon
's proximity alarms began to sound, filling the air with their shrill noise. Jeth would've liked to shut them off, but he was too busy with the copilot guns and trying to keep an eye on the metadrive system. As more gunfire burst out from
Avalon,
he knew the others were too busy, too.

A maelstrom of attacking ships enveloped them.
Avalon
's only advantage was her smaller size and greater maneuverability. Celeste flew them in and out, avoiding most of the incoming fire, but not all of it. Soon more alarms began to sound, and the screen in front of Jeth lit up with countless warnings.

“This is not going to work,” Celeste said even as she sent them into a complicated spiral that was a Black Devil's signature move. “We're never going to get clear for the jump.”

Jeth knew she was right, and all at once it was too much—Vince's death, the public manhunt, the hopelessness of their escape. Iron bands seemed to clamp around his chest,
tightening into a vice that left him struggling to draw breath.

He closed his eyes, and with monumental effort, tried to force the feelings away. Hunger and exhaustion had robbed him of the resilience that had once been his mainstay, just as the consequences of the life they were leading had robbed him of the joy he used to take in the thrill of a close call.

Finally, too many seconds later, he regained control of his emotions and took a deep, full breath.

“Shit, oh shit,” Celeste said. “Engines six and seven are down.”

Jeth glanced at the screen, seeing the warnings. They either had to find a way to jump now or they'd be forced to surrender.

He reached up and turned on the main comm. “Flynn, see what you can do about those engines. Sierra, I need you on the bridge.”

It seemed like no sooner had he called for her, than she was there.

He locked his eyes on the screen in front of him and asked, “Remember when we talked about turning off the proximity restrictor on a metadrive?”

“You mean when we
speculated
about turning it off?”

“Time to put the theory to the test.”

“You want to jump right here?” She waved out the front window where even now they were surrounded by patrols that had tightened up the line. Celeste kept
Avalon
moving, but they kept gaining, pinning her in.

“Can you do it?”

When Sierra didn't respond, he risked a glance at her,
seeing the alarm on her face. It was true their speculation hadn't included the possibility of actually making the jump, only whether or not she could jailbreak the system successfully. Neither of them had heard of anyone making a jump with so much interference, at least not with a traditional metadrive, but . . .

“Sierra, can it be done?”

“Maybe,” she said, a sharp edge to her voice. “But I have no idea what will happen. To us or them.” She motioned out the window toward the ships.

Jeth met her gaze, unflinching. “We've got to try.”

Sierra hesitated a moment longer, then swung around and darted for the nav station.

Seconds passed slowly. Jeth kept glancing behind him to see Sierra's intent gaze focused on the nav station screen. She'd said that she didn't think disconnecting the override would be difficult, but she might've been wrong.

Engine three went down in the continued onslaught, and now Jeth could feel the difference in thrust even though he wasn't piloting. They were moving slower. Maneuverability was down by thirty percent and shields by eighty, according to the warnings flashing in front of him.

One more hit and we're done.
His hands were sweating on the gun controls. More sweat coated his brow and lined his back and arms, and yet he fought off the urge to shiver.

“It's done,” Sierra said.

Jeth glanced back at her. “You sure?”

She nodded.

“Will the jump work?”

“If it doesn't, we'll be too dead to care.”

“That's comforting,” said Celeste.

Ignoring her, Jeth switched on the main comm again. “We're jumping. Get ready.”

He motioned at Sierra, and she engaged the metadrive. Jeth braced for the jump as he felt the ship shudder around him. He sensed the light that always preceded the entry into metaspace, and even though he knew he should shut his eyes, he didn't. He clenched his muscles, waiting for the worst. With so much interference, the entry into metaspace could be affected. Part of the ship could be left behind or she could disintegrate entirely.

The light appeared, brilliant and burning against his eyes, and still he held them open. He watched as the light expanded out toward the four patrols directly in front of them. It reached the ships and then went through them, slicing the metal of their hulls open as easily as a bullet through skin.

When Jeth finally closed his eyes, that bodiless, lifeless feel of metaspace swallowing him, it was with the sight of those patrols drifting apart and then exploding burned into his mind. Each ship had a ten-man crew on board. All those people dead. Because of him.

Jeth Seagrave: Super Villain.

The idea wasn't funny anymore.