Free Proxy: An Avalon Novella by Mindee Arnett Page B

spaceport. To Jeth’s surprise, the Brethren didn’t take him to one of Hammer’s offices or meeting rooms but rather into the private gardens.The heavy perfume from the flowers and the dark smell of earth and plants filled Jeth’s nose and made him momentarily dizzy.
    “He’s through there,” one of the Brethren said, pointing at a vine-covered trellis.
    Jeth walked through it alone and spotted Hammer sitting on a veranda. Once upon a time, it might’ve seemed odd to Jeth to find such a place on a spaceport—a real-life garden with simulated sunshine overhead, enough to warrant the covering on the veranda—but he knew that the appearance of wealth and power mattered more to Hammer than anything else. And a garden like this in the middle of space was decadent in the extreme.
    “Hello, Jethro,” Hammer said from the lawn chair he was reclining in. He raised a glass, cloudy with condensation and full of some brown liquid over ice, and took a long drink. He was a big man, both in muscle and fat, his shoulders wide and arms thick, his belly prodigious. Like his soldiers, he wore a brain implant, a red one fixed to his skull like a parasitic spider. Hammer set the glass on the table next to him. “Do you have the ruby?”
    Jeth pulled the stone from his pocket and handed it to Hammer, who accepted it with one meaty hand. He examined the so-called ruby, a pleased expression rising to his face.
    “Excellent. Congratulations on another successful job.”
    Normally, Jeth didn’t engage Hammer in conversation unless he absolutely had to, but curiosity got the better of him. “What is it? I know it’s not ruby.”
    “No, it’s not.” Hammer examined Jeth, his eyes like small black stones on his broad face. “To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what it is. Nor do I care.”
    Of course not, Jeth thought. All Hammer cared about was the monetary value. “Who wanted it then?”
    An amused smile spread over Hammer’s lips. The question had been impertinent, but Hammer was in a good mood. Jeth wondered why, a sinking feeling in his gut that it might be satisfaction over Danforth’s punishment. For a second, Jeth pictured Danforth on an operating table, the long spike of the brain implant being pressed against the back of his skull.
    “The ITA,” Hammer said.
    Jeth blinked, trying to imagine what the Interstellar Transport Authority would want with a random piece of rock and failing to come up with a single explanation. The ITA manufactured and policed all the metatech in the universe—the technology that enabled light-speed space travel. “Did they say why they wanted it?”
    Hammer set the stone on the table and picked up his glass. “I believe they wish to study it for some project or other. But it’s all highly classified, naturally.”
    “Oh,” Jeth said, some of his interest draining away. Where the ITA was concerned, he’d long ago learned to distance himself. His parents had been part of the ITA—up until the time they’d been executed for treason.
    He supposed Soleil Marcel’s interest in the stone had been the same as Hammer’s. The ITA was the single most powerfulentity in the universe, but they weren’t stupid enough to seize such an important religious artifact from one of their constituent planets outright. Asking for it wouldn’t have worked either; the Grakkians prized it too much. In those situations the ITA usually relied on the criminal element to do their dirty work for them. Jeth supposed it made for good business all the way around.
    “I’ll have the payment posted in your account,” Hammer said, the finality in his tone alerting Jeth that any further discussion about the ITA was over. “And I suppose I’ll throw in a little bonus for Danforth.” Hammer grinned, the gesture an inevitable leer given the subject matter. “I appreciate your bringing him back to me in one piece. More or less.”
    Jeth swallowed, regret and disgust souring his belly. “What about Lizzie?” He