Proxy: An Avalon Novella (3 page)

“Hammer’s had me working a job on Gallant Prime for the past couple of months,” Danforth said, meeting Jeth’s gaze. “That’s one of those coal mining planets. The stuff gets everywhere. Dries you out. I’ve been getting these bleeds ever since I came back.”

“Okay.” The word choked Jeth’s throat, like icy air.

With an effort, he shook the feeling off. Worry for Lizzie was making him paranoid. One little flash of a dark liquid did not make Danforth a drug addict. He seemed coherent and functional, his old tech ops magician self. And if he had been stuck in a mine on Gallant Prime, that would explain the degradation in his appearance as well. Those who spent most of their time in the treated air of spaceships and ports often struggled with breathing the real thing.

Just do the job and get out
, Jeth reminded himself.
Play it safe. No tricks. No mischief
. But the resolution didn’t make him feel any better as Danforth slid the lid into place, sealing Jeth in darkness.

BY THE TIME THEY ARRIVED ON THE PALACE GROUNDS, Jeth had forgotten about his paranoia. The job demanded all his attention and focus. They had made it past the security checkpoints without problems, and Shady and Danforth had let the others out the moment they’d finished unloading the first round of barrels for the party.

Soon after, Celeste assumed her role as servant with remarkable ease, managing to get all the relays for the master control hub and comm into place. The role allowed her to come and go from the palace without passing through the metal detectors. All servants were supposed to have gone through a physical security check at the gate.

Once the unit was up and running, Danforth and Lizzie hacked into the palace’s security system, Lizzie radiating eagerness like some kind of electrical current. Flynn’s and Shady’s parts would come later.

Now it was Jeth’s turn to get into place. He approached the long flight of wide marble steps that led up to the massive pavilion lining the front of the emperor’s palace. A row of white pillars, carved in the likenesses of warrior men and women wearing fitted helmets and armor, held up the
pavilion’s roof like priests in a religious ritual. The main doors to the palace stood open, with lines of armed sentries sporting the red uniform of the emperor’s personal guard flanking both sides of the doors.

At the sight of them, Jeth reached up and scratched behind his ear, surreptitiously pressing the communicator patch affixed to his skin. “Heading in. Turning you off,” he whispered.

“Gotcha, Longshot,” Lizzie’s voice echoed inside his ear a second later. The sound of it made him stumble in shock.

“What are you doing on the line?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered. Just call me Little Hawk.”

Jeth grimaced. His little sister, first-time criminal.

Shoving the thought away before one of the guards noticed the grim look on his face, Jeth pressed the patch again, holding it long enough to terminate the connection completely.

He willed a confident smile as he stepped into the line for the security check. When he reached the front, he slid his counterfeit invitation out of his back pocket and handed it to a gray-haired man. The man’s bored expression remained in place as he slid the invitation through the scanner. The red light on the scanner turned green at once with an audible beep.

“ID please,” the man said, still not looking up. Jeth suspected he might start yawning any second.

Jeth considered cracking a joke, but held back, his new resolution to play it safe echoing in his head. He pressed his
right thumb to the reader and its light switched from red to green in moments.

“Enjoy your stay,” the gray-haired man said, handing the invitation back.

“Oh, I plan to,” Jeth said, allowing himself a moment’s indulgence of the old cocky attitude. He’d learned early that confidence could take you through any number of sticky situations. He slid the invitation back into his pocket for safekeeping.

He passed through the main doors without hesitating, even though he was well aware that full body scanners had been attached to the doorframes to check his person for metal or anything else suspicious. The only things Jeth had to worry about were the contact lens in his right eye and the communicator patch. But the former was too small to show up on a scan, and with the latter powered off, there was no chance of it registering.

Jeth waited until he entered the grand ballroom at the end of the long main hallway to power the communicator back on. The music, something fast with heavy bass, was loud enough to make the insides of his ears numb. So loud that he couldn’t actually hear himself speak as he said into the comm, “Entry achieved.”

“Good job, Longshot,” Lizzie said. “You’ve got fifty-three minutes until your rendezvous with Tailspin.”

“Roger.” This time he left the connection open.

He slowly swept his gaze over the room, taking in the scene. Hundreds of people filled the center of the dance floor,
their bodies writhing and bouncing in and out of rhythm with the music. More people mingled about the buffet tables set around the edges of the room and covered with decadent foods. Jeth was pleased to see that most of the boys his age sported the same kind of ridiculous getup as he did.

The realization bolstered his confidence, and he strode forward, swiping a glass of champagne from a passing server. He took a slow, easy drink. He had to be careful not to overdo it, but a drink was a good prop to help him blend in.

He made his way through the crowd, eying the spots in the room relevant to the plan. There was the eastern wall where he would meet Celeste. Across from it was the hallway that led out onto the terrace. His ultimate destination lay through the second door on the left down that hallway.

Satisfied with his orientation, Jeth headed deeper into the crowd, looking for a way to pass the time. As he moved, he scanned the faces, keeping a lookout for security in plainclothes. In seconds he identified two definites and a third maybe. The maybe was a big dude, the bulge of his thick muscles visible through his long-sleeved shirt. He looked too old to be a contemporary of the princess and too rough around the edges to be a rich relative or other noble. Yet he also didn’t match the other two, a blunt axe in a pile of ceremonial daggers.

For a second Jeth thought the man noticed him, and he turned away, heading for cover among the dancers. He meant to just pass through them, but before he knew it, a girl
in a yellow dress grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into a dance. Jeth considered brushing her off, but she was pretty and smelled good.

Even more enticing was the solid gold bracelet hanging loose on her wrist. It would fetch a price back home, and so long as his extracurricular activities didn’t interfere with Hammer’s business or profits, Jeth was free to pinch what he could. Every little bit helped him in his quest to make
Avalon
his own.

But then he remembered Lizzie’s presence and his vow not to take any unnecessary chances.
Dammit
.

The girl, tipsy enough to be unsteady in her high heels, didn’t notice his disappointment as she yanked the champagne glass out of his hand, downed the rest of it in one gulp, and tossed the empty glass to a passing waiter, who barely caught it. Then she dragged Jeth forward, pressing her body against his as she began to dance. Shrugging, Jeth went with it. There were less entertaining ways to pass the time.

He stayed on the dance floor more than thirty minutes, dancing with a string of different girls before finally ditching the last and slipping away. He made a beeline for the nearest buffet table, where he’d been intending to go before the girl in the yellow dress had waylaid him. He hadn’t gotten to pilot, and he wasn’t about to pass up the only other decent part of this job. Jeth helped himself to cheese, grapes, some kind of meat on a stick—real meat, not the imitation stuff, which was all he could afford at the spaceport he called home—and a bread roll doused in butter.

Oh, the perks of the job
.

Even though he knew he might regret it later, Jeth made a second pass, grazing through the platters he’d skipped the first time. He finished up with a strawberry that he dipped in a fountain of warm liquid chocolate for several seconds before popping it into his mouth.

“One might think you only came for the food.”

Jeth flinched, caught by surprise by the female voice in the sudden lull in the music. It wasn’t often someone got so close to him without his noticing.

He turned around, a retort falling out of his mouth automatically. “Well, it’s not like I came for the prin”—he sputtered as his eyes connected with the stranger’s, a girl close to his age, and easily the prettiest thing he’d seen tonight—“cess.”

Some nameless expression crossed her face before amusement curved her lips. “Yes, well who could blame you? The princess is not known for either her beauty or her sweetness.”

Jeth blinked, not understanding at first. He was too distracted by…by…well, he wasn’t quite sure what had caught him so off guard. Sure, this girl was undeniably gorgeous in a way that even Celeste would envy, with her brown hair hanging in artful ringlets and her large eyes the color of amber. And the dress she wore—shell pink and clinging to her body in that way only silkwater could—revealed enough planes and curves to make a Grakkian monk think twice about chastity vows. But Jeth didn’t think it was any of those things. Or at least not only those things. He suspected
it might be the devilish look he detected in her eyes as she ran her gaze over him.

Suddenly aware that his mouth was open, Jeth clamped it shut with an audible clank. Wincing, he cleared his throat. “I take it you know the princess?”

“Me?” The girl’s eyebrows rose. “No, not really. But I’ve heard the rumors, same as you, I expect.”

Jeth grabbed a glass of champagne and took a sip, giving the girl another look. She certainly seemed rich enough to walk in the same circles as the princess.

“Um, Longshot?” Jeth jumped at the sudden intrusion of Lizzie’s voice and spilled more than a bit of his drink. “You need to make the pickup. No time for romance.”

Jeth grimaced, overwhelmed with an urge to throttle her.
Last time Liz gets to run the comm. Ever
. He forced a smile to his lips as he took a napkin and wiped himself off. “That’s probably five thousand unis’ worth of imperial champagne I just dumped down my shirt.”

The girl laughed, a surprisingly confident, full-bodied sound. Jeth felt a grin try to overtake him and fought it back. Like it or not, he needed to give this rich girl the cold shoulder. Shame: he suspected she would be a lot of fun if he had the time to spare.

“Anyway, nice talking to you.” Jeth turned and walked away before she could respond. Glancing around, he identified the eastern wall once more and headed toward it.

A few more buffet tables bordered this side of the room, but he avoided them. Instead he grabbed another glass and
settled for an open area near the corner. He stood there, facing the dance floor with his drink in his hand, attempting to look uninterested.

Jeth pressed his finger to the communicator patch. “I’m in position.” He lowered his hand, waiting for a confirmation. When several seconds went by, he pressed it again. “Little Hawk? You there?”

“We’re here,” Lizzie came back, and Jeth flinched at the thundering crackle of static that punctuated her words. He resisted the urge to detach the communicator patch from his ear just to get it to stop.

“What the hell was that?” he said once things had quieted.

He regretted the question as the noise sounded again when Lizzie replied, “Something’s wrong with one of the relays. Think it’s going down.”

The sound faded once more but left his head ringing. Jeth pressed the link. “I’ll leave the connection up but don’t talk to me until you get it sorted out. That noise is enough to split my head open.”

Trying to regain his composure, Jeth took another sip of champagne, too aware of how fast his heart was beating and how shallowly his breaths moved in and out. Technology failure was the one thing certain to damage his cool. Too much depended on it working properly. And when it went sideways, there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t possess the skills for working tech. He hated feeling powerless.

Moments later Jeth caught sight of Celeste as she entered
the ballroom from the far door. She spotted him at once, but no sign of recognition appeared on her face aside from the initial lock of her gaze on his. She took her time crossing the room toward him, stopping here and there to offer drinks from her tray.

Jeth marveled at her balance. Her ability to carry that thing without spilling was one of the reasons she’d taken that part of the job. He surely would’ve doused the first person he came across.

Jeth glanced away from Celeste, trying to look bored again. He checked his watch—six minutes to go. He wanted to ask if Shady and Flynn were in place—they’d better be soon, or they’d miss their only chance at disguising the noise of the explosion as they blew a hole through the grate into the sewer beneath the palace—but Jeth resisted the temptation. As with the issue with the relay, there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Jeth looked back at Celeste, wondering what was taking so long. Any minute now the party hosts would start herding the guests outside for the fireworks display set to signal the official arrival of the princess’s sixteenth birthday. Celeste’s eyes locked on his once more, but this time she glared at him.

Jeth arched an eyebrow, not understanding. In answer, Celeste raised her hand to her mouth. Jeth shook his head, still not getting it. Then he looked down at the nearly full drink in his hand and realization dawned. She couldn’t very well offer to take his glass for him if it wasn’t empty.

Grimacing at his blunder, Jeth raised the glass to his lips and drank the rest of the champagne in one gulp. The liquid burned and bubbled down his throat and into his belly. Thank goodness he’d eaten.

As he wiped the back of his mouth, Celeste finally reached him. “Take that for you, sir?”

“Yes, thank you.” Jeth set his glass on the tray beside two other empties.

“You’re welcome.” As she spoke, Celeste’s grip on the tray slipped and it crashed to the ground, the clatter muffled by the music and noise of the crowd. Fortunately, all the glasses were shatterproof.

Jeth and Celeste both knelt at the same time, their actions well rehearsed. As Celeste moved to pick up the tray with one hand, she reached inside her right boot with the other, pulling out the small, collapsible wrench she’d smuggled inside. Jeth took it from her and slid it inside his own boot with one fluid motion as he picked up the nearest fallen glass. Celeste grabbed the other two, and they both stood up.

“Let’s try that again.” He set the glass on the tray once more.

Celeste pursed her lips but didn’t respond. Subservience went against her nature.

A moment later, the music ended and an amplified voice began to speak, politely asking the guests to move out onto the terrace. Jeth and Celeste exchanged a look, then both turned and headed in that direction, walking slowly.