Celeste rolled her eyes. “The rest of us have normal-size stomachs.”
He shrugged. “More’s the pity for you.” He turned and strode off on his skinny legs.
Shady nudged Celeste in the arm. “Feel like some one-on-one? Sector Four is open late.”
Celeste shook her head. “I’m heading to Twelve.” “Oh. Right.” A smirk crossed Shady’s face. He’d forgotten that Celeste had recently decided on a new boyfriend—the only distraction she preferred over spending a couple of hours killing computer-simulated aliens in the game room.
Celeste winked. “See you later.”
As she walked off, Jeth heard Lizzie sigh beside him. He glanced down at her, an anxious feeling in his gut. “What?”
“Oh nothing.” Lizzie twirled a piece of hair around her finger, a lingering childhood habit.
“What’s a matter, Liz?” Shady wagged his bushy blond eyebrows. “Wishing you had a boyfriend to run off to, too?”
Lizzie went scarlet, and Jeth had to bite his tongue to keep from exploding at Shady. Why did he have to speculate? The last thing Jeth needed right now was adding that particular worry to his already full plate.
“No, of course not,” Lizzie said, a little too defensively. “I just hoped Celeste would go shopping with me. It’s not as much fun by myself.”
Shady backed up, hands raised. “Don’t look at me. I’m off to the games.” He turned and hurried away, as if fearing that Lizzie would con him if he lingered long enough. Jeth didn’t doubt it. The crew were a bunch of softies when it came to Liz.
She sighed again, casting Jeth a sideways look. “Don’t suppose you want to go?”
“Sorry, Liz. I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Okay.” For a moment, her crestfallen look was almost enough to make him change his mind, but she brightened a moment later. “Maybe Cliff’s working tonight at the Garden and Menagerie. He might let me inside after hours.”
Jeth smiled, hoping she was right. The Garden and Menagerie was the safest thing she could be doing at Peltraz this late at night, short of being at home. He didn’t even consider forcing a curfew on her. She was getting too old for that. Old enough to get shot on a job. He exhaled. What a night.
“Be careful.”
“Yes sir, Boss,” she said, grinning.
Jeth watched her walk off, and then he turned and headed for home. To Avalon.
The ship was docked in one of the long-term bays in Sector 15. Only “docked” was too kind a word. She was imprisoned, and had been since Jeth’s uncle Milton had lost her in a card game in one of Hammer’s casinos seven years ago. It had happened not long after Jeth’s parents had died. Milton, who had been a doctor in the ITA for most of his life, defected in protest, taking custody of Jeth and Lizzie. The three of them left their home planet, Therin, aboard Avalon, in search of a suitable Independent planet to call home. Peltraz spaceport was just supposed to be a stop on the way, but once Milton lost the ship they were stuck.
Jeth had hated Hammer ever since. Working for him now was just acid in an open wound.
But at least Hammer had allowed them to keep living on the ship even after he took possession. Avalon was made for long-term inhabitation. And later, once the idea of forming a teenage gang of thieves had come to him, Hammer decided to let all of the crew live on the ship. “To ensure a familial loyalty among the group,” he had claimed. But Jeth knew it was really just for the cheap accommodations.
He didn’t mind though. It made the ship home for all of them.
Jeth took the long way, down one of the scenic pedestrian walkways high above the spaceport’s city center. Lined with glass on both sides, the walkway was built so you could look down at the sprawl of businesses or out into space and Peltraz’s renowned star field. Peltraz was a massive spaceport, easily the size of any of the major cities on the nearby planets and home to more than 300,000 people. There were hundreds of places Jeth had never seen in the city-state, entire neighborhoods he’d never even heard of.
Jeth wasn’t interested in the tourist views from up here. He just wanted a good look at his ship. Seeing Avalon from the outside always made him feel better. When he was kid, the sight of the ship meant his parents were home from whatever weeks- or months-long journey they’d been on. He rarely got to watch their departure, but he was always there for their return. Except for that last time, of course.
Even so, the sight still comforted him, which he needed right now. His dread about the inevitable meeting with Hammer over the fiasco at Kordan had been building inside him for hours. He would pay for the damage to the ship, one way or another. How much and with what currency, whether money or blood or both, he couldn’t guess. Hammer never seemed to react the same way twice. Once he’d even let Jeth off scot-free, but he doubted he would get so lucky this time. Not with the bum metadrive to boot.
When he reached the familiar point where the walkway began to curve inward, he stopped and faced the outside glass, dropping his gaze to the outlying docks. From here he could see Avalon. She was a Black Devil spacecraft, old enough to be considered a classic, but still as tough as they came. With her streamlined body, she looked more weapon than ship, something fierce and predatory. She was the best, most versatile spaceship around, fast and powerful, yet still capable of deep-space exploration. And with her own metadrive, she could take him anywhere he wanted and be completely off the ITA’s radar. And she’s mine.
Almost.
Jeth leaned his forehead against the glass and exhaled, his breath fogging the surface. He had to have her. She was his only way out of this life. His desire to be free was so strong it was almost a physical pain. He hated living here, hated being under Hammer’s heel, one of his tools. One of his toys, like Renford had said.
For the last few years Jeth’s plan had been to buy Avalon back from Hammer, gallivant around the universe for a while, and then finally settle down on Enoch, an Independent planet all the way in the farthest corner of the universe. Enoch was self-sufficient and wealthy enough to have a space exploration program he could work for—one day.
Jeth stayed there, staring at his ship, until fatigue made his eyelids begin to droop. After the third yawn, he turned and headed toward the nearest elevator. He rode it down to Sector 15 and started walking, navigating the complicated path to Avalon’s dock without conscious thought.
The longer he walked, the dimmer the light became and the less touristy the scenery. Sector 15 was the seedy part of town. The long-term docks on Peltraz spaceport were mostly inhabited by people who couldn’t afford the tax to fly their ships out of there or pay for housing in one of the nicer sectors. The further in you went, the more well-to-do Peltraz became. Hammer lived in a massive estate at the dead center of the port.
As he rounded a corner into the darkest corridor yet, Jeth froze. Movement somewhere to the left caught his eye. He clenched his fingers, wishing he had a gun, but civilian firearms were prohibited on Confederation-aligned stations, one of the few overarching regulations the ITA enforced. Only Hammer’s soldiers were allowed to carry weapons, and they served as law enforcement for the entire spaceport. The ITA agents stationed at Peltraz only oversaw the comings and goings at the public docks, leaving everything else under Hammer’s complete authority. So long as Hammer kept Peltraz in good standing with the ITA, his rule was guaranteed.
Still, that didn’t mean that whoever was lingering in the shadows ahead of him wasn’t carrying a gun illegally. Jeth looked around, hoping to see someone else nearby. No such luck.