Havoc

  “You came just in time,” a man said. “They were on their way to the garden.”

  “There will be more,” Martine predicted.

  Jael nodded. “We have orders to hold this ground. Want to help out?”

  “Why not? It pisses me off when they fuck with my dinner,” a big guy muttered.

  “This way, then.”

  He rounded the corner and came up on a scene that chilled him. Vix and Zediah were defending outside the doors, while the enemy shouted, “Take the garden. If we control the food, we own Queensland.”

  At this point, Jael had no idea if this was about the merc pardons or if it was a coup within a riot, fueled by silent Lecass supporters. Fifteen more men surrounded them, and while his five could thin them out, it wouldn’t be fast enough. Still, he ran toward the mob as Zediah took a blade in the gut, opening him up like a fish. Still, the kid didn’t drop; he was defending Vix with a shaky blade. They stabbed him two more times before he went down, then they sliced her from throat to thigh. She felt for Zediah with a blood-smeared hand, and his fingers twined with hers in one last convulsive movement.

  In a few more steps, these bastards would have possession of the hydroponics bay. With an enraged snarl, he threw himself at the lot of them. Jael took multiple stabs and slashes, but he ignored the pain as he had learned from a lifetime of doing just that. He didn’t a need a weapon to end them. Their bones popped and cracked in the rush of his fury. Separated from him, Martine fired with caution; she didn’t know about his regenerative abilities. The other Queenslanders waded in to mop up the ones who were still twitching when he moved on.

  Jael was barely breathing hard when the last one fell. His shirt already had so much blood on it that the others couldn’t tell how much belonged to him. Martine narrowed her eyes, but the superficial wounds had already closed. The deeper ones would take longer, but none were serious enough to bother him.

  She plucked at the rent fabric on his shoulder. “I guess you got lucky, huh?”

  He flashed a smile even as his gaze settled on Vix and Zediah, their hands intertwined even in death. “Always do. It’s other people that need to watch out around me.”

  Yep. Lucky as hell. Now he didn’t have to worry about what Zediah knew. Or keeping secrets from Dred.

  “Is that a threat?” she asked softly.

  “No, just a shitty reality.”

  She nodded. “Poor bastards. If only we’d been a little faster.”

  While their deaths solved a personal problem for Jael, Zediah and Vix had known the most about running the hydroponics garden. Ike might’ve known a bit about it, but he was gone, too. That left Jael, who’d spent fewer than ten hours tending the plants before the pair went full psycho on him. If the garden stops producing, we’ll run out of food. After that, there was only Mungo’s solution—cannibalizing the populace either directly or indirectly. But that was a distant concern, not something to worry about while they were still putting out fires and tallying the dead.

  “How long are we supposed to hold here?” Martine asked.

  “Until Dred or Tam comes to advise us of the all clear.”

  She nodded. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

  It was hours before the Peacemaker fell permanently silent. During that time, they drove off two more runs at the garden and killed even more rebels. The body count had to be astronomical by this point. Jael piled the enemies away from Vix and Zediah; it was the least he could do, given that he hadn’t really tried to save them.

  At last, Dred strode down the blood-streaked hall toward them. Her chains were crusted dark brown, her face smudged with soot and weariness. But resolve shone from undimmed eyes. “It’s over. You two can stand down.”

  The RC unit beeped and circled in her wake, and a light went off in Jael’s head. Dammit, I completely forgot. Belatedly, he told her what they’d learned from Ike’s bot. With the constant chaos and attacks coming from all sides, it had been impossible to spare the men to track them down, then Jael had forgotten about it. The unit was standing by, ready to lead them to his cache the minute things settled down.

  On hearing the good news, she actually smiled. It seemed like ages since he’d seen that expression on her face and felt like she wasn’t faking the look for the good of the zone.

  Martine went off to check on Tam, leaving them alone.

  “You all right?” Dred asked, checking him for wounds.

  And it broke something in him, that despite the purple shadows beneath her eyes that he knew indicated she wasn’t sleeping well, she’d still ask after his mental health. He didn’t think she remembered how to do anything except solve other people’s problems. The Dread Queen was sucking the life out of her, bit by bit, and it killed him to see it happen.

  I have to get her out of here. That can’t be another of my quick-patter bullshit promises. This one, I have to keep.

  “Yeah. But you’re not.”

  To his surprise, she didn’t deny it. In the guttering light from the tetchy fluorescent, her face was pale and soft, faintly shadowed, so that he could only see the glint of her eyes, but not the color. Her hair fell in a dark swath against her cheek, moon and night. The poetry of that contrast compelled him to lift a hand to her cheek.

  She leaned infinitesimally into the touch. “You sure about that?”

  “I don’t think Tam and crew have noticed. But you can’t fool me.”

  “I’m going through the motions,” she said at length. “Saying the right words. Making the moves that might keep us alive, but I’m so fragging tired.”

  Her words struck him like a barrage of rifle shots, burning through his emotional shields. Jael felt her exhaustion as if it radiated from his own body. That was how deep she’d burrowed inside him. The emotion resonated, kindling an ache as though she tapped a thousand crystals, all singing the same mournful tune. Distance showed in the slope of her cheek, the delicate shadow of her lashes. Such fine details to notice; he cataloged such minutiae about everyone, every day, and it only mattered when it was Dred.

  “It’s bullshit how much weight you carry, love.” His voice contained more gravel than he’d expected, and he cleared his throat.

  She shrugged. “I’ll do what I must. And it helps to have you here. I can’t talk like this with anyone else.”

  “I’d want to kill him if you did.”

  “That’s us, ever spinning through a cycle of love and death.” Her mordant expression yielded to surprise when Jael kissed her. “What was that for?”

  “You’ll figure it out. Let’s catch up with the others.”

  45

  Sympathy for the Devil

  There are so few of us left.

  Eight hours later, Dred glanced around at the smoldering wreckage left over from the riots, char marks on floor and walls. The survivors were piling corpses to be sent down the chute with numb efficiency, supervised by Martine and Calypso, who came out of the last battle with a gash in her side, but she was strong, and it should heal.

  Dred and Jael had parted ways to oversee repairs, partly because they needed him elsewhere and partly because she couldn’t lean on him too much. The Queenslanders left needed her to be strong. At last count, Mungo’s men had been exterminated completely; she had a less-comprehensive idea of how many of Silence’s assassins had survived the slaughter. That would probably come back to haunt them, but she lacked the energy to care at the moment.

  Jael found her a few minutes later as she went to work with the rest of the cleaning crew. She hadn’t slept in days, and she wouldn’t until Queensland was back in order. A new set of mercs might arrive anytime, and she knew they didn’t have the manpower to repeat this defense of the station. Next time, they wipe us out. That awareness rendered the victory bittersweet. He pulled her away from the others and drew her to him. The kindness of the gesture almost brought her to her kne
es. People didn’t console the Dread Queen.

  Except him.

  “We’re doomed,” she said softly. “And now we’re just marking time.”

  “This thinned the herd, right enough.”

  Resting against his chest, she couldn’t see his face. “I can’t help but wonder what’s the point. I can put everything back together, but no more supplies are coming. When the mercs don’t return and report the place clear, they’ll hire more and send them in.”

  “Then we need to make sure we’re not here when they arrive.”

  “This again,” she said with a growl of impatience. “You know, at this point, I’m ready to call your optimism insanity. Tam blew the transport, remember? To kill a bunch of mercs. And the docking bay is now sealed off from the rest of the station.”

  “We’re actually better off than we were, love.”

  She frowned at him. “What are you talking about? Look at this place.”

  “It’s a wreck, yeah, but the mercs cleared out most of our enemies. Apart from Silence’s crew, everything here belongs to us now. It will be easier for us to stockpile resources. The powers that be are sure that they removed everything we could use to escape, yeah? But they couldn’t have foreseen we’d end up with the run of the place like this.”

  To Dred, it sounded like clutching at straws. “That’s true, but—”

  “But nothing. Tam and I will scour all decks from top to bottom. If there’s anything we can use to get some of the old machinery spaceworthy, we’ll find it.”

  “You’re seriously proposing to build a ship from scrap parts. Before they send a second team.”

  “Do you have a better idea? I suppose we could retire to your quarters and shag until they come for us. I can think of worse ways to go. But personally, I think that’d be a shocking waste of our potential.”

  Before she could reply, Martine strode up. “The bodies are loaded and ready. Did you want to say a few words? Just so the men feel better about the mass dumping.”

  Dred wasn’t in the mood to be inspiring, but she knew the other woman was right. She told Jael with her eyes that the discussion wasn’t over, then moved to the center of the common room and vaulted up on top of the throne Artan had built. Even more than usual, it seemed like a ridiculous affectation, for she was so obviously the empress of nothing.

  Just a few tired convicts, beyond any real hope.

  “Our people fought bravely,” she said. “The outside world wouldn’t expect it because they threw us away. They decided we were too broken for fixing, but to me, they were all warriors defending their homes. Going into this fight, I would’ve said there was no way we could win. The mercs had all of the advantages. But we did what we do best, what we always do when the odds are stacked against us. We put our shoulders in and pushed.”

  “Damn right,” someone shouted.

  “Who are we?” she asked softly.

  “Queensland!”

  “What’s stopping us?”

  “Nothing!”

  “I commend these warriors to the next world, where I hope there’s plenty of liquor and laughter to keep them out of trouble.”

  A cheer rose from the assembled men, and she hopped down from the throne to accompany Martine and Jael, who were guiding the hover dolly, groaning beneath the weight of their dead. Cook was on that pile, a man she’d never guessed would turn, but the promise of freedom had been too much for him. She wished she could’ve explained to him that even if he had been among the last five prisoners standing, the mercs didn’t intend to honor the deal they’d made. It was a ploy, nothing more, a carrot offered to stupid brutes.

  Silently, the three of them unloaded the dead until she was sweaty, and her back was sore. Queensland had once had a couple of hundred citizens; now they were down to fewer than fifty. The station seemed to echo with silence, each deck deserted, full of traps laid by men who had died before their cunning could be fully realized. That would make exploration tricky, but she had faith in Tam’s and Jael’s ability to circumvent static defenses. She mustered less confidence in the idea they could cobble together a ship fast enough to escape the next death squad. Even though the mercs had failed in their mission, there were so few prisoners left that it could almost be counted a win.

  “That’s the last of them,” Martine said.

  Dred nodded her thanks. “You’ve earned a break. Get some rest . . . or whatever.”

  “If I was smart, I’d snatch some bunk time, but who the hell’s a genius up in here? I think I’ll get drunk instead.” Martine flashed a roguish smile, laced with faint menace by the glimpse of her pointed teeth.

  “Have at it,” Jael said, watching the other woman go. Then he turned to Dred, but whatever he might’ve said was forestalled by footsteps, not coming from the heart of Queensland but from the corridors leading from other areas of the station. Jael stepped in front of Dred, a move she would’ve protested if she wasn’t already watching the corner with chains in her hands. When the merc commander eased into view, helmet off, she pushed out a shocked breath. For once, his men weren’t with him.

  He left them behind in case things went bad. More proof he was a good commander who cared about those who served under him. And it made him much harder to dismiss.

  “Come for a quick death?” Jael asked politely.

  Vost shook his head. “I came to make a deal.”

  Dred laughed. “What could you possibly offer that we’d want, after what you tried to do here?”

  “Transport codes.”

  She froze, exchanging a look with Jael, whose infinitesimal nod seemed to indicate he thought she should hear more. “What’re you talking about?”

  “The docking bay they use for supplies isn’t the only one on this station. You haven’t been able to get to any of them because of the blast doors and force fields. But I hacked the mainframe. It’s glitched as hell, and it doesn’t work all across the station, like it’s supposed to, but I checked. I can turn off the automated defenses and unseal the secondary docking area. If we come to an agreement, and you ensure I get there safely, we can leave here together.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Then look at this.” Moving slowly, he produced a drone cam and powered it on.

  She peered at the grainy image on the tiny display. Though the footage was shaky, it was clear the little spy bot had penetrated a part of the station no convict had ever reached; the supplies and parts shown in a casual sweep of the docking bay made that obvious. The drone flew all around the room, peering into all corners; and then she saw the faded warning. DOCKING BAY 4: TAKE ALL PRECAUTIONS IN OPENING HANGAR DOORS. They still needed a ship, but if Tam and Jael could cobble something together, as he seemed to think, then Vost held their exit pass.

  If I believe he can get us in there.

  “So your drone slipped in through some tiny air vents,” Jael said. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

  Dred considered the odds that Vost had actually hacked the mainframe. If that was possible, Tam would’ve figured out a way. But she wasn’t sure because she recalled that odd Monsanto announcement they’d never heard before.

  But she couldn’t seem to yield too quickly. “I think you’re bluffing. All transport codes were wiped before they sent the first prisoners to Perdition.”

  “To a cursory inspection, yes. But there are always fragmented data packets, hidden caches of information, backups hidden on remote servers. They didn’t hire the best to scrub the system.” Vost met her eyes, his gaze a pale and icy green. “Can you afford to assume that I’m lying? From what I’ve seen, you can’t withstand another assault, and it’s not like you can bolster your numbers.”

  That’s true, damn him. This is what Tam guessed before—why he wanted to establish some favor with me though he couldn’t resist stirring the pot when things were at their worst. With a scowl, s
he remembered that announcement during the riots. It was no telling how many more of her men had died because of Vost dangling that carrot once again.

  But he needed that to happen. He needed me desperate enough to make a deal.

  Jael leaned in to whisper, “He knows he can’t hide indefinitely—Silence’s people or ours will find him before long. He’s also aware that he’ll likely be killed without our protection before he finds a way off station. He needs us. His pulse tells me he’s relatively calm, and I don’t smell the stink of lies on him.”

  Without explaining what she meant to do, Dred closed her eyes. The merc commander’s emotional state opened up to her in waves of color, and his hues were primarily cool blue with ripples of yellow. He’s worried about something. There was no indication of treachery or a yen toward psychotic violence. This isn’t a man I’d have hunted before. His worry deepened to anxiety while he watched her, ostensibly “meditating” on her decision like a crazy person. He must be wondering if I’m really his best bet.

  News flash, Commander. I’m your only hope. Just like you’re mine.

  Dred’s lashes flickered up, showing her an exhausted man who was on the verge of begging. That surprised her as few things could have. Everything she knew about Vost suggested he was a proud, capable man, nothing of cowardice in his makeup.

  “You’ve some balls, coming to make me an offer like this,” she said then.

  Vost raised a brow. “Only a madman refuses to bargain when it benefits him.”

  “Give me one good reason why I should trust you.” She exhaled slowly, knowing the question revealed the fact that she was willing to hear him out.

  Jael folded his arms expectantly. Apparently, he, too, wanted to hear this answer.

  He has to know this alliance is the best shot for both of us, but I can’t give in too easy, or he won’t trust me. He’ll be watching for a blade in the back.

  Shit, he probably will anyway.

  “There’s nothing I can say that’ll persuade you any faster than this. So . . .”