Mindee Arnett - Proxy

She wrinkled her nose. “Of course. Weapons study is part of my training for the Malleus Shades.”

Jeth had known it was, but her answer wasn’t good enough. “Prove it.” He held out the gun with one hand and the loaded clip with the other.

Lizzie eyed the gun warily. Jeth knew guns weren’t her favorite things. But if she was going to make it as one of the Shades, she’d have to get over it.

Sighing, Lizzie took the gun and clip from him, and then with surprising speed, she shoved the clip into place, flipped off the safety, and took aim. “Rock,” she said, calling her target.

A half second later, the loud report of gunfire vibrated Jeth’s ears, and he saw a hole appear in the surface of a giant rock lying a few meters to the left of the cargo bay. The rock was close and made for a large target, but she’d managed to hit it, even if the shot was far from center.

“That’ll have to do for now, I suppose,” Jeth said. “But you need to work on centering your aim.”

Lizzie made a face.

“I’m serious, Liz. Not all your targets will be big or standing still.”

“I’m tech ops, Jeth. How often will I really need to shoot something?”

Not someone but some thing . Jeth sighed at her naiveté. The beginnings of a lecture about how jobs were unpredictable and that you couldn’t count on anything formed in his mind, but he held back. There wasn’t time for it now.

“Often enough.” He took the Mirage from her, turning on the safety once more but leaving the clip in place. He returned it to the weapons bag, and then together he and Lizzie placed all the equipment in one of the barrels.

Once the decoy barrels were loaded on the truck, they were ready to leave. Jeth, Celeste, Lizzie, and Flynn filed into the cargo hold while Danforth and Shady took the front. They left the narrow door between the cab and cargo open, allowing those in back to see where they were going for as long as possible.

“Don’t be late getting back,” Hilty called through the opened driver’s window, his gaze fixed on Jeth. “I’ve got to get the truck turned in to headquarters by oh-six-hundred or it’s my ass.”

Jeth smirked. “We’ll be there yesterday.”

Hilty didn’t respond, but Jeth registered the doubt in his eyes. He decided to take it as a challenge.

Shady started the engine, and the truck lifted into the air, forcing Hilty to step back. The next moment they were on their way, zooming over the road carved through the forest. They soon passed out of the woods into farmland. Row after row of silkwater plants flashed by, their stooped, rounded stalks unmistakable. The plant was indigenous to Grakkus and one of the exports responsible for the planet’s wealth. Silkwater fabric went for a premium, possession of it a universal status symbol. Hammer himself owned at least two suits made from it, each worth the price of an economy spaceship—or so Jeth had heard.

Finally, the city came into view, a sprawling mass of buildings set in chaotic array, as if the city builders had designed it on whim and chance rather than with any logical plan. Somewhere near the middle of the city, arching high above everything else, stood the Emperor’s Tower. The natives called it the axis mundi, the center of the universe, and Jeth could almost see why, given its impressive height and appearance. Inside the tower was the Heart of the Universe, the giant ruby they’d come to steal.

Jeth cleared his throat and faced the others, motioning to the barrels. “It’s time.”

Flynn let out a groan as he slid off the barrel he’d been sitting on and stood up. Jeth couldn’t blame him. The refrigeration in the back of the truck kept the air crisp, but Jeth didn’t know how much that was going to help once they were crammed inside the barrels.

Nevertheless, Flynn went first, fitting inside surprisingly well considering the bulky bio-suit. Celeste went next, and then Lizzie stepped up.

“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, noting the lack of color in her face. Even her freckles seemed pale.

She swallowed and put on her brave face. It was one Jeth knew well from long-ago nights when they’d stayed up late telling ghost stories and their parents had finally come in and told them to head to bed. “Sure. It’s going to be fun.”

Jeth arched an eyebrow.

Lizzie scrunched up her nose. “Stop brothering me.”

Jeth pressed his lips together to hold in a chuckle. “Like that’ll ever happen.”

She rolled her eyes and then sank down beneath the barrel’s rim, her stubborn expression in place now. Jeth found comfort in it. She would be all right; she was his sister, brilliant and resourceful. He pulled the lid into place, sealing her in.

Finally, it was Jeth’s turn. He climbed inside the last barrel and then stared up at Danforth, who’d come into the back to put on the lid for him.

For the first time since Danforth’s unexpected arrival, Jeth noticed how awful he looked, worse than he’d ever seen him—and that was saying something given the way his brown hair had always hung like rags around his face, the grease so thick even a strong breeze wouldn’t ruffle it, or how his skin always looked patched and crumpled like an apple left out to rot in the sun. Now his thinness bordered on emaciation, his skin drawn and brittle over his skull. Red veins wove thick webs through the whites of his eyes. Jeth wondered what kind of work he’d been doing for Hammer since his time with the Shades had ended.

“Promise you’ll keep Lizzie in line?” Jeth said, a tremor of genuine fear sliding through his belly and down his thighs. Letting her stay might have been the most practical decision, but his big-brother side didn’t particularly care.

“Sure I will. She’ll be fine. It’ll be easy.”

Jeth nodded, reminding himself that Danforth had guided him safely through his first couple of jobs, with only a few exceptions that—if Jeth were willing to admit it—had mostly been his fault for not listening. Then he remembered how Lizzie was just like him. “Don’t trust her to do anything on her own. She likes to get creative.”

Danforth smiled. “Understood.”

Jeth nodded again, and was about to tell Danforth he was glad he was here when he noticed a thin membranous line of black liquid trickle out of Danforth’s left nostril.

Danforth wiped it away at once. “Shit, sorry about that. I’ve been getting these damn nosebleeds lately.”

“Why?” Jeth asked, his heartbeat quickening. It hadn’t looked like blood, at least not the normal, oxygenated kind. That black liquid looked like burner blood, one of the signs of Odyssey abuse. But that was impossible. How would Danforth have gotten his hands on the drug? Even Hammer, who had virtually no morals to speak of, refused to deal in Odyssey. Known by a slew of street names—Black, Flyboys, ZXMP—it was the most addictive drug in the galaxy.

“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.