Polaris (2 page)

“That's it for me. Seems I've got another engagement.” He tapped his jacket pocket, then returned the tokens to the tray, making sure the false one was on top of the smallest stack, within easy reach.

He headed for the Ruby Room. Two of Wainwright's men stood guard just inside the door, but neither moved to stop him when he entered. The door slid shut behind him automatically, but he didn't hear the click of the lock. In a casino like this one, he doubted the doors could be locked by patrons.

It was darker in here, the air murky with pipe smoke. Jeth breathed in, managing not to cough thanks to years of living with his uncle Milton, who favored the same noxious pastime.

“Come in, Jeth, come in,” Wainwright called from where he sat at the single round table in the room. His wide, welcoming smile emphasized the narrowness of his face. The warmth in that smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained locked on Jeth as he stepped forward and set the token carrier on the table next to a tray of food. The sight of the food—fruit, cheese, vegetables—set his mouth to watering.

With an effort, he swallowed and forced his gaze away, making a quick scan of the room. It had earned its name. The walls were a uniform red, broken only by a couple of gold-trimmed paintings and the four vid screens hung in each corner. Red glass shaped like teardrop rubies decorated the chandelier centered over the table.

More noticeable than the decor were the two men standing behind the crime lord. Jeth couldn't see any weapons, but he knew they were armed. He cocked an eyebrow at Wainwright. “I thought this was supposed to be a private game? Looks more like an interrogation.”

“I find life itself enough of a gamble.” Wainwright waved to the man to his right. “Check him, Albert.”

The man came around the table at once and began to pat Jeth down. As Jeth had hoped, Albert checked his pockets, soon pulling out the token. He tossed it onto the table.

Wainwright scooped it up with one small, feminine hand and examined it. “Is this what I think it is?”

Jeth adjusted his jacket and sat down. “We are here about the cipher, yeah?” He grabbed a grape off the tray and popped it into his mouth, doing his best to stifle a moan of
pleasure as the taste burst over his tongue.

Wainwright cleared his throat. “I'd prefer to think of the cipher as just the opener.”

Jeth's hand stilled midreach for another grape.

“What does he mean?” Lizzie's voice whispered in his ear.

Jeth recovered quickly, but instead of a grape he picked up a die from beside the tray, its gold and silver surface glittering even in the murky light as he rolled it between his fingers. “I don't recall any talk about further business. The deal was for the cipher.”

“It
was
.” Wainwright picked up the pipe resting in the stand next to his elbow and took a long drag, filling his cheeks with smoke that he let out slowly a moment later. “But from what I hear you have something much more valuable to offer than the Mirage Cipher.”

Jeth slid the die into his pocket for safekeeping then leaned back in his chair as if bored. Beneath his cool surface, his heartbeat began to quicken, sweat stinging his armpits. “Hate to contradict you, but you heard wrong.”

Wainwright set the pipe down and brushed off ash from the sleeve of his pinstriped suit. “I have it from a reliable source that you possess something of great importance to the ITA, something to do with the failing metatech.”

Jeth didn't move, didn't breathe, not until he managed to corral the thoughts stampeding through his mind.
He knows about the Aether Project
. Word was bound to get out sooner or later that Jeth possessed a data crystal that contained all of the ITA's secrets about space travel and the metatech that made it
possible. But the timing couldn't have been worse.

He composed himself. How much did Wainwright know? If all he knew about was the data, things would be okay. But if he knew about Cora . . .

With a deep inhale Jeth let a slow, cocky smile stretch across his lips. “No offense, but if I had something that valuable, I wouldn't be wasting time on a deal as small as this one.”

Wainwright rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his dark mustache, his expression inscrutable. “Perhaps. But my source was quite reliable. An undercover ITA special operative one of my captains found tracking an unknown target, one he later revealed to be you. He was a tough one, didn't want to tell me what he was after, but it's amazing how forthcoming a man can become when you start to remove his skin.”

Jeth was too familiar with crime lords and their methods to react. He widened his grin, baring teeth. “Oh, I'm sure he talked a right storm, but you should know better than to believe he was telling the truth. ITA special ops don't break so easily. He fed you a story. An easy one to swallow, given my reputation, but that doesn't make it any more true.”

Wainwright let out an exaggerated sigh. “I sincerely hope not. If you don't have the information I'm after, there's no point in our talking further.”

Trying to ignore the flush spreading up his neck, Jeth shrugged. “If that's how you feel. I'm sure the cipher will be worth something to someone else.”

Wainwright tented his fingers in front of him. “Wrong. The cipher
might
have been worth something if you hadn't left all those witnesses alive. Witnesses tend to talk, and it's only matter of time before word of the theft gets back to Mirage.”

Jeth clenched his teeth. Not all of them were still alive.
Not that stupid woman. Why did she have to
— He stopped the thought and forced his jaw to relax. “Mirage won't be able to modify their encryption software overnight. There's plenty of time to gather flight intel and to intercept enough shipments to make it worthwhile.”

Wainwright shook his head. “Mirage will double the security on all flights and give their pilots authority to fly unrecorded routes. No, the cipher is practically worthless already.” He sat back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “This metatech information on the other hand, that would be worth a great deal. Rumor has it that the ITA has no idea why so many metadrives are failing. If things keep on the way they are, there won't be any shipments for my people to intercept at all. Travel in the universe will come to a complete halt. But if you have the key to changing that . . .”

Jeth racked his brain for a response. It was all true. The metatech was failing, and he did have the key to stopping it. But he wouldn't hand it over. Not for all the money in the worlds.

He opened his mouth to deny it once again, but before he could, the vid screens in the corners flickered to life,
flashing a uniform red. For a second, he thought it was some part of the room's design, but then the star and eagle emblem of the ITA appeared across the screen. Gooseflesh broke out over his skin at the sight of it.

“What is this?” Wainwright said, turning.

No one answered as the banal background music cut off and a message began to play. For a second, Jeth couldn't make sense of it. This was an Independent spaceport; they had no obligation to broadcast ITA special bulletins. But then with a sickening wrench in his gut, understanding clicked. The bulletin was an announcement of a newly posted ten-million-uni reward for the capture of an ITA fugitive. Nuvali was Independent, but it knew its clientele well.

Too well, it seemed, as Jeth watched his own face and name flash across the screen.

HIS FIRST THOUGHT WAS, HELL, FOR THAT SORT OF MONEY
, I should turn myself in.

His second was that the image looked nothing like him. The dark brown hair was the same and the green of his irises, but the boy in that picture was too young, the eyes too soft. And Jeth was certain an honest smile as carefree and cocksure as that one hadn't graced his lips in a long time.

Nevertheless, it was indeed him. He recognized the photo as one Hammer had taken two years ago for a fake ID Jeth needed for a job. He couldn't remember which; there had been so many. The next second, panic blossomed in Jeth's chest as a hot, thrashing spasm ready to explode out from him in a bellow.

He held it back, his body absolutely still in his desperation to stay calm.

Wainwright glanced at him, smirking. “Heard wrong, did I?”

Jeth didn't reply as Wainwright returned his attention to the screen. Jeth looked too, overtaken by the same curiosity. So far none of his crew had been mentioned. Instead, the bulletin had gone on to detail Jeth's crimes that ranged from extortion
(true)
to acts of terrorism
(what the hell?)
. This
last, they claimed, was for the destruction of a C-93 Strata cruise ship carrying more than four thousand civilians—an act supported by video footage.

Jeth watched transfixed as the massive, cumbersome ship appeared on the screen, a giant innocuous whale in a tranquil sea of stars. A moment later, a brilliant burst of light exploded out from it. One second fire and chaos filled the screen, and the next there was nothing but space.

The footage was chilling, but the idea that he could be responsible was laughable. Jeth Seagrave: Super Villain. In truth, Jeth had been lucky to make it off that Strata with his life—his resulting cyborg hand proof enough of the close call. And the Strata hadn't been carrying innocent civilians but renegade soldiers, scientists, and mercenaries. Jeth hadn't even known the ship had been destroyed—the footage could have been real or doctored. Either was possible when it came to the ITA.

“Oh my God,” Lizzie's voice filled his ear. “What are they doing?”

Flushing us out,
Jeth thought. It had been inevitable. The ITA had been pursuing them for months, growing more and more desperate in their attempts to recover what he'd stolen from them—both the Aether Project data file and his little sister Cora. First it was ITA soldiers and special operatives, then covert mercenaries. But this was their most desperate move yet: enlisting the public.

There's still a way out of this,
Jeth said to himself.
There's still a way out of this
.

But then the bulletin reached its final segment, guidelines
for catching and approaching the armed and deadly Jethro Seagrave.

Capture his ship,
the bulletin said and flashed a picture of
Avalon
.

Jeth's heart tumbled into his knees, and he choked on a sudden intake of breath. He might be able to get away from Wainwright, but there was no protecting his ship, no way to keep her hidden. Black and streamlined into a fierce, predatory shape,
Avalon
was unmistakable. Unforgettable.

And parked within firing distance of every bounty hunter, crime lord, and wannabe criminal in the entire Nuvali spaceport.

“So,” Wainwright said, turning back to him. “Shall we try this negotiation again?”

Jeth swallowed, reading Wainwright's gaze. The man had no intention of negotiating anything. Why should he, with Jeth in easy reach? He could have the Mirage Cipher, the ITA reward, and the Aether Project if he played it right.

To hell with that
. Jeth placed a hand on the table, ready to give the signal that would have Vince, Sierra, and Celeste bursting through the door.

Lizzie's panicked voice buzzed in his ear. “They know we're here! They're locking us down. Security's on the way.”

Jeth didn't think, just moved. He jumped to his feet, grabbing the tray of food and flinging it across the table at Wainwright's head. Wainwright ducked, colliding with Albert, who was moving to protect him. Spinning away from them, Jeth grabbed his chair, hoisted it into the air, and
hurled it at two more men moving to intercept him. The chair struck the first man in the knees, and he went down, tripping the other on the way. Jeth hesitated long enough to grab the token carrier from the table and leaped over them both, charging through the door.

“Get us prepped to fly and get everybody back to the ship,” Jeth said through the comm.

“Already on it.”

Back on the main floor, Jeth spotted Celeste, Sierra, and Vince moving toward him, and he waved them away. They turned at once and headed for the door. He hurried after them, walking as quickly as he could. There might be holes in Nuvali's security when it came to weapons, but there weren't when it came to the guards. Any sign of someone trying to make a break for it, and they would close in, suspecting a thief. It was a fact Jeth remembered, but Wainwright's men did not. They charged after him, making it just a few steps before Nuvali guards converged on them.

Jeth pressed on, his breath coming in rapid pants as adrenaline charged through his system. His friends exited just as he was passing the casino cage. He glanced at the empty cashier window, wishing he could stop and change out the tokens. But he couldn't, not now. They would have to find a way to come back and change them out later.

“You there,” one of the Nuvali guards called as he reached the exit. “Where do you think you're going? You can't remove tokens from the floor.”

Jeth halted, eyeing the gun at the man's side. Instinctively,
he pulled the false token out of the carrier, keeping it hidden in the palm of his hand, as the guard looked him up and down.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” the man asked, his gaze narrowing.

Trying not to think about how much he would regret this, Jeth threw the token carrier at the man's face then bolted through the door.

All that money gone
. He gritted his teeth against the thought as he ran down the deserted corridor beyond to the elevator that would take him to the mid-level decks. The money didn't matter. Not when his ship was in danger. His ship and all the precious cargo she was carrying. His crew. His uncle. And both his sisters.

He made it inside the elevator before the guard could catch him.

Panting, Jeth said through the comm, “Talk to me.” When Lizzie didn't immediately answer, fear made his head spin. He leaned against the back rail to steady himself. He'd been in dozens of fights and close calls, but nothing like this. Everyone in the galaxy must've seen his face by now. And all of them would know his ship.

Lizzie finally answered, her voice calmer than before, though still with a note of breathlessness. “I'm trying to get us unhooked from the dock, but they've turned on the automatic override. It'll take time for my hack to complete.”

“What about the others?”

“Shady and Flynn were already back before the bulletin
aired,” Lizzie said, forgetting to use their call signs. The lapse made Jeth's fear spike again, and he took a deep breath. The elevator had almost reached K Deck, and he needed to be calm and focused before the door opened.

“The rest of you are trapped outside,” Lizzie went on. “There's a bunch of dock security goons blocking the dock on both sides. They're trying to get into
Avalon
, but that ain't happening without explosives.”

Jeth licked his lips and stepped toward the front of the elevator as it came to a stop. He had no doubt that the guards wouldn't get through the security on
Avalon
's door—Lizzie had designed the code herself—but with ten million unis on the line, he didn't think explosives were out of the question.

“Can you shut down all the elevators to K Deck and close off the corridors to the dock?” Jeth said, a plan forming in his mind.

“Sure. Elevators are no problem, and I can trigger the bulkhead doors to seal the corridor.”

“Do it then, but far enough away none of the guards outside
Avalon
notice.”

Jeth turned right out of the elevator and moments later came across Sierra, Celeste, and Vince holed up in one of the observation nooks in between the various docks. He slipped into it, joining them.
Avalon
was moored several docks down, blocked from sight by the nearest ship. He scanned all he could see of the open space beyond the window, looking for incoming patrols, but so far the area remained clear, nothing but black dotted with starlight.

“Did you stop for some sightseeing?” Sierra said, stepping close to him automatically, their shoulders touching. A relieved smile crossed her lips, and he leaned into her, drawing comfort from her nearness.

“Ran into trouble with a casino guard.” Jeth inclined his head toward
Avalon
's dock. “What's it look like?”

“Five on each side, give or take,” said Vince from where he stood next to Celeste. “Didn't get much of a look before they turned us back. But I think it's all local security.”

Jeth nodded, processing the scene in his mind. Local security was better than mercenaries. They would move and react as a team, making them easier to manipulate.

“Elevators shut down and bulkhead doors closed,” Lizzie announced through the comm.

“Good,” Jeth said, then returned his attention to Vince. “How far apart are the guards standing?”

Vince rubbed his chin. “Fifteen meters, probably. What are you thinking? Little Felix?”

“Yep, unless one of you has a clever way out of this.” Jeth eyed the others, some of the pressure easing now that he knew that all the ways into the dock were locked down.

Sierra frowned up at him. “How are you going to get close enough to set it off?”

“Easy.” Jeth pulled one of the prostheses off his nose and tucked it into his pocket before moving on to the next. “Vince will pretend he just captured the ITA's most wanted. That should put us in range for Felix.”

Celeste's mouth opened in a grimace. “That plan takes
first prize for dumbest ever. Those security guards can't possibly be that stupid.”

Jeth hid a wince. “I didn't say it was brilliant, but it'll work.”

“Yeah, it will,” said Vince, crossing his muscular arms over an equally muscular chest. “Even if they don't believe us, it's not like they'll shoot us on sight.”

Celeste pinned Vince with her dark-eyed gaze, a look capable of rendering most people temporarily awestruck with its ferocity. “You can't be sure of that.”

A wide grin spread over Vince's lips and he winked. “Sure we can. With looks like mine, they'll know at once I'm too pretty for deception.”

Celeste's face contorted as she fought back a smile. “Whoever said you were pretty?”

“What? You don't think so?”

To Jeth's astonishment, Celeste blushed. In the years he'd known her, he could count on less than three fingers how many times such a thing had happened. But then, Celeste and Vince had been circling one another for weeks now, the flirtation getting more and more obvious. Jeth couldn't understand what was taking so long. Normally, once Celeste set her eye on someone it was a done deal. Boyfriends were her hobby, a way of unwinding and passing time. She'd always been the type to go after what she wanted. But with Vince she'd been holding back, as if afraid. Of what, Jeth didn't know. She certainly liked him, that much was clear.

Jeth shook his head and snapped his fingers. “Can we
focus, please? Besides, if the guards try to turn us away or if they suspect something, we can just toss Felix at them.” It wasn't a great plan B, considering how hard it was to be accurate with something as inconveniently shaped as a personal comm, but it would work, nonetheless.

“That's right,” Vince added. “And there's no way they could guess we have a Little Felix anyway.”

Jeth nodded. The nerve bomb alone was hard to come by, and the antidotes needed to be immune to it were even harder. Jeth's uncle and a little bit of money had made it possible. Once upon a time Milton had been a doctor and scientist for the ITA, a background that gave him the know-how on unusual things like nerve bomb antidotes.

Sierra laid a hand on Jeth's arm, drawing his attention. “They might not fire on you at first, but if you don't take all of them out with Felix then they definitely will.”

“I know.” Jeth placed his right hand on top of hers. And for once, touching her, the hand felt like his and not some stranger's. “That's why I'll need your gun. Vince and I will take care of any stragglers.”

Sierra's mouth closed, the tight line of her lips signifying her disapproval. She might be quieter in her protest than Celeste, but to him that just meant it went deeper, mattered more. Most times Sierra was the lull before the storm, exaggerated calm and silence. That was, until she became the storm itself. He loved her both ways.

Jeth tightened his fingers around hers, careful not to hurt her with his artificial hand. “I'll be okay,” he said. “I won't miss.”

“I know.” A nameless emotion crossed her face. Or perhaps it was a memory, the same one that appeared in his mind—of her surrogate father lying dead in a shock of blood. So much destruction from a single bullet, one shot from Jeth's gun. Wainwright might've been right when he said leaving witnesses alive was a mistake, but Jeth didn't regret it. He didn't want to add to the blood already on his hands. He wished he could've left all of them alive.

Sierra pulled away from him and then slid her hand behind her back, emerging again with a gun clenched in her fingers. The M.U.L.E. .32 was small enough that the bulge it created in her dress had been hidden by her long blond hair, but it was big enough to take down the Nuvali guard easily.

“Okay,” Jeth said, as he loaded the mag then tucked the .32 into the front of his pants, hidden beneath his flight jacket. “You two stay here until Vince and I have cleared the road.”