Mindee Arnett - Avalon

When Jeth spied bulkhead 42, he stepped off the walkway and approached it. Lizzie came up beside him. Jeth took in the expression on her face, her lips lifting into an eager smile and her eyes twinkling. He knew that look. Elizabeth Marie Seagrave was hooked on the job—the thrill of the steal, that rush at the possibility of getting caught, the flush of success at getting away with it.

A tiny spark of guilt threatened to ignite inside him at the knowledge that he’d played a part in turning his baby sister into a criminal, but he squelched it at once. What they were and what they did was necessary for survival. There wasn’t any room for morality. His folks were proof of that. They had never broken a law in their lives, and yet they’d ended up imprisoned and then executed by the ITA, the very regime they’d so faithfully served and obeyed.

“Move back,” he said, waving at Lizzie. He pressed a button on the control panel beside the bulkhead door, and it slid open with a mechanical groan. It seemed the maintenance in this place was as much in need of attention as the security.

The rear door of the ship itself opened a second later, and Jeth stepped inside onto a narrow walkway high above the Montrose ’s massive cargo bay. The pungent stench of fermentation assaulted his nose. Below, hundreds of barrels of beer, wine, and other alcohols stamped with the Wellforth Corporation logo filled the cargo bay from the floor to the network of walkways crossing the ceiling.

Lizzie whistled from behind Jeth. “Bet this is worth a fortune.”

“Oh yeah,” said Celeste, closing the door behind them. “That’s why we waited those few extra days until it was loaded before stealing it. Hammer’s all about maximizing his profit.”

Jeth snickered. “Assuming he decides to sell all this and not keep it for himself. The real profit is the metadrive.”

Lizzie leaned over the nearest edge. “I don’t get it. Why would Wellforth go to all that trouble securing a metadrive for a ship like this just to transport alcohol? I figured they’d use it for something illegal.” She sniffed, then grimaced at the stench. “But that’s definitely alcohol.”

“Not everybody wants a metadrive for illegal activities,” said Celeste. “Just the people who buy them off Hammer.”

Jeth shook his head as he headed across the walkway to the nearest door. “Not true. At least not in this case. Hammer told me this ship is on its way to Rosmoor. And that is illegal.”

“Oh,” Lizzie said, following after him. Then, a moment later, “Why’s it illegal again?”

Jeth sighed; his baby sister was smart but incredibly uninformed about some things. Without looking back, he said, “Because the ITA placed an embargo on Rosmoor a couple of years ago. Confederation-aligned vessels like this one aren’t allowed to trade with them.”

Rosmoor was one of the few Independent planets. Although Confederated planets were self-governed, they had to adhere to regulations on stuff like human rights and war treatises as well as pay taxes to the ITA in return for lower rates when using metagates or purchasing metadrives. Being Independent didn’t automatically make a planet an enemy, but Rosmoor had clearly pissed off the ITA somehow. With the embargo, Rosmoor was just barely surviving today, at the mercy of the few other Independent planets willing to trade with them or those Confederation merchants willing to risk illegal shipments of price-gouged goods.

“Still, they could’ve picked a ship with more flair,” said Celeste, trailing behind.

“Too right,” Jeth muttered. The Montrose looked to have the speed and maneuverability of a five-hundred-pound blind man. Usually, one of the best parts of stealing a spaceship was getting to pilot something new and flashy. But not this clunky, bloated thing. Just think about the money, Jeth reminded himself. That’s what matters .

They were almost done, although the hardest part lay before them. They had to unmoor the Montrose and fly it away from the station without drawing the attention of passing patrols. A difficult task in a ship this large and cumbersome. A welcome thrill of excitement shot down Jeth’s spine.

Once in the living quarters, he turned right onto a flight of stairs that dead-ended at the entrance to the bridge. The lights brightened automatically as he stepped inside, giving him full view of the cockpit at the front and the row of control panels lining the walls.

Lizzie stepped past him, heading for the nav station on the right. “I’ll have us ready to launch in a minute.”

Jeth nodded, his gaze fixed on the front windows that looked out onto open space. That restless feeling burst anew inside him. For one insane moment, he considered just jumping right then and there into open space, making a run for it instead of handing the ship over to Hammer. Jeth wanted to fly away into that vast stretch of unknown, to see how far he could go, what new places he could find. There were plenty of them still out there, he was sure. His parents had been space surveyors for the ITA, and he’d inherited their wanderlust. It was like a constant vibration inside him that refused to be stilled. He wanted to live a life where no one told him what to do and where adventure and new discoveries waited around every turn.

But all the stupidity of such an idea occurred to him at once: This wasn’t an explorer ship. Not enough food and water capacity and way too noticeable. All it had going for it was the new metadrive.

No, when he sailed away into that black unknown, it would be on his own ship, Avalon , the same one his parents had flown for so many years. Just as soon as I have enough money to buy her back from Hammer . He was almost there. A couple more jobs like this one, and he’d finally have her back.

Brightened by the prospect, Jeth tucked the stunner into his belt as Celeste made her way to the pilot’s chair. She and Jeth took turns flying the ships they hijacked. She was definitely getting the short end on this one.

Jeth was about to take the copilot’s chair when the door to the ready room across from the nav station slid open and a man stepped out.

The first thing Jeth noticed was the .45-caliber Mirage handgun he was carrying, the barrel pointed at Jeth. The man wore gray fatigue pants and a fitted black jacket. His outfit was completely inconspicuous, all except for the shiny silver badge with a star and eagle emblem hung at his belt. The badge of an ITA Special Agent.

Jeth blew out a breath at the sight of it.

And here comes interesting .

“WELL,” THE MAN SAID. “IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU AT LAST, Jethro Seagrave.”

Jeth blinked first in surprise and then in outright fear. He glanced at Lizzie. “Didn’t you scan the ship to see if anybody was on board?”

Lizzie’s mouth fell open in a horrified grimace. “You didn’t tell me to!”

No, he hadn’t. Someone experienced would’ve intuitively known to do it. If we get out of this, I’m going to kill her .

Jeth faced the stranger again, trying to appear calm, like he wasn’t terrified to find an ITA agent waiting for him on board the ship he was trying to steal.

A slight man with a fit, wiry physique, the agent had a vague, forgettable appearance, the kind that would make him hard to pick out in a crowd. Jeth couldn’t place his age, but flecks of white peppered his black hair and age lines rimmed his dark eyes and thin mouth.

“How do you know my name?” Jeth said.

“I knew your parents. You’re the spitting image of your father. At least, you would be, minus those prosthetics you’re wearing.”

A funny, tightening feeling gripped Jeth’s chest, and he forced a deep inhale. Across from him, Lizzie was staring at the man like he was some kind of ghost come back to haunt them. She might be four years younger than Jeth, but she’d been old enough to remember their mom and dad and to bear the scars of their absence.