Mindee Arnett: Avalon

“Hey, you two!” one of the sentries called. “You’re going to set off the alarm.”

Jeth kept his eyes closed and his body engaged in the make-out session, but he focused his attention on the sound of approaching footsteps. They now stood within a meter of the alarm sensor, but Jeth didn’t worry. Lizzie would’ve signaled if she hadn’t gotten the job done in time. He refused to consider the possibility that she might’ve been caught. Such thoughts only led to mistakes.

“What are you doing down here?” the man said.

Jeth pretended not to hear as he pulled Celeste even closer.

“All right, come on.” The sentry prodded Jeth in the shoulder with the barrel of his stunner.

Jeth held the kiss a moment longer, then pushed Celeste away from him. She swayed on her feet as if drunk.

“You kids can’t be down here.” The sentry’s eyes shifted from Jeth to Celeste and back again. He had a narrow, pointed face, like a rat’s, and his tan uniform hung loose on his slight frame.

Jeth glanced at the other sentry, still standing at the security station a good twenty meters away and watching them warily.

Maybe this won’t be so boring after all .

Jeth’s body tensed in anticipation, as if his muscles were threaded with strings pulled taut by the idea of danger. If the other sentry called for help, this was all over.

Remembering the part he had to play, Jeth forced his gaze back to Rat Face. He flashed a grin, wiping away the wetness on his lips. “Oh, sorry. We were . . . uh . . . just . . . you know.”

The man shook his head, annoyed. “Not here you’re not. This corridor is for docking customers only. Find another place for this.”

Celeste giggled and stepped toward Jeth, making to kiss him again.

“Whoa.” Jeth grabbed her hands before she could seize his head. Then with practiced ease, he pushed her sideways toward the sentry. Celeste stumbled into him, and the man caught her one-handed, righting her.

“Is she drugged?” Rat Face’s eyes narrowed on Jeth’s face. “Did you give her something?”

Jeth shrugged, flashing the man a rakish wink. “Whatever works, right?”

Celeste giggled again and grabbed Rat Face by the shoulders before he could respond. Then she kissed him, spreading her mouth wide and finally exhaling the dangerous fumes from the sleeper pill. The sentry was so taken by surprise he made no effort to pull away. They never did. Celeste was fast and far too attractive to resist.

Rat Face’s eyes rolled back as the drug took effect. Pretending to catch him, Jeth grabbed the man by the elbow and simultaneously yanked the stunner from his hand.

Before Rat Face had finished falling, Jeth strode through the terminal entrance, taking aim at the other sentry. The grinning, cocky teenager from a moment before vanished, replaced by someone with command beyond his years and possessed of a singular purpose. No alarm sounded as he passed. Lizzie had gotten the job done.

Jeth closed the distance between him and the other sentry, who raised his own stunner. Blood pounded in Jeth’s ears, adrenaline pumping through his veins, but he resisted the urge to panic or speed up. He knew not to fire early or let his aim wander from the target with unnecessary motion. Instead he took a deep, almost lazy breath, letting a calm sweep over him.

Like so many before him, the sentry didn’t know what to do about this teenage boy with the cold, calculating gaze charging him, whether to fire or hit the alarm. He stood there, frozen in indecision.

The moment Jeth was in range, he exhaled and pulled the trigger. The flash of the electric bolt lit up the gray walls, turning them blue as it soared toward the sentry and struck him in the chest. The man stumbled backward then slumped to the ground.

Grim satisfaction, mingled with relief, came over Jeth, and an involuntary smile crossed his lips. Celeste rushed past him, withdrawing a syringe from her pocket as she went. She stopped beside the fallen sentry, knelt, and then plunged the needle into his arm.

Scanning the entrances for more sentries, Jeth headed toward her, the stunner already charged for another shot.

“It’s done,” Celeste said, standing up. It would be hours before either man regained consciousness. She slid the now-empty syringe into her pocket, being careful not to leave evidence behind.

Jeth came to a halt in front of her. “Right. Good job.”

“Did you expect anything else?” Celeste said as she retrieved the stunner lying a short distance away.

The loud slap-slap-slap of footsteps sounded behind Jeth. He spun around, his finger tightening on the trigger. Then he relaxed as he saw Lizzie approaching.

She grinned at him, the expression making her look more like a ten-year-old than her actual thirteen. Her auburn hair hung in adolescent curls around her freckled face. “You guys sure are noisy.”

Resisting the urge to scold outright, Jeth smirked. “Look who’s talking, stomping around like that. You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.” Lizzie was the newest and least experienced member of the Malleus Shades. She was also Jeth’s baby sister.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Like I have anything to worry about with your aim.”

Celeste snorted.

Jeth glanced at the sentry he’d taken down with the stunner, trying to judge how long the shot had been. A good eighteen meters at least, helluva range for a stunner. “You’re absolutely right. No worries at all.”

A snide smile curled one side of Celeste’s lips. “Cocky much?”

“With good reason.”

“You’re bound to make a lucky shot every once in a while,” said Lizzie, brushing past him. “Law of averages.” She stepped over the fallen sentry to reach the security station control panel. As she placed her hands on the touch screen, the amused expression on her face turned serious. Her eyes, a pale shade of green the same color as Jeth’s, fixed unblinkingly on the screen. She didn’t look like a child right now, more like a surgeon in the midst of a complex operation. Then she began to work her magic, her fingers flying over the screen as she overrode the locks on Docking Station 42, where the Montrose was moored.

Jeth watched, in awe of Lizzie’s abilities, which she’d undoubtedly inherited from their mother. She could talk to computers in ways he would never understand. That talent was the reason she started working jobs with the crew a few months ago, replacing their prior ops tech. Michael had been a solid tech, but Lizzie could run circles around him. When he got too old to pass as seventeen, Hammer insisted Lizzie join the crew, despite her age and Jeth’s protests. Jeth would’ve preferred that she do something more normal and a lot less dangerous, but Hammer’s word was law, at least to the Shades.

Ignoring the usual resentment such thoughts provoked, Jeth returned his focus to the terminal. Easy or not, more sentries could come along any second, not to mention passengers from the other ships. He took up position across from Celeste, who already kept watch.

A few moments later, Lizzie announced, “It’s done. Go get ’em, Jethro.”

Jeth shot her a withering look. Lizzie was the only one of his crew he let use his full name. Sibling right of annoyance. The rest of them liked to call him “Boss,” the name a semi-affectionate joke and only slightly more tolerable.

Jeth turned and headed up the docking bay tunnel and onto one of the moving walkways designed for those customers whose ships were docked farther down. He walked along the conveyor belt, a cool breeze from the acceleration ruffling his hair. Lizzie and Celeste followed behind him.

The numbers on the bulkhead doors counted up as they passed, lit up yellow for active docks with moored ships beyond them, red for empty ones. The tunnel seemed to stretch endlessly onward.