Perdition

  That was such a turnaround from her rage a few days ago that Dred wondered if this was a setup. But surely if somebody wanted a cat’s-paw, they’d pick a pawn more subtle than Martine. The woman didn’t have a beguiling bone in her body; she was blunt to the point of rudeness, and her hair-trigger temper got her into as many fights as the men.

  “What did you have in mind?” she asked.

  “I want to be in charge of some worthless sons of bitches when the pain starts. I could get with giving orders.”

  That didn’t sound like a bad idea to Dred, especially since it might raise her stock with the remnants of Artan’s harem. It’d be nice if the women in Queensland didn’t want to kill her. “Remind me before the assault on Abaddon, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You won’t be sorry.”

  “I owe you. And I’m sure I won’t be. I can’t wait to see you driving those convicts to push on and fight harder.”

  Martine offered a scary smile. “Me either.”

  24

  Challenge Accepted

  The mood was shaky the next day when Jael joined the rest of Queensland in the hall for breakfast. As he went through the food line, he listened to a lot of heated discussion, but he couldn’t get a complete picture of the situation. Trying to be subtle, he took a seat with his plate nearby, listening to the conversation.

  “Did you hear?” a man said, as another sat down.

  “What?”

  “We’re aligned with Entropy for this attack.” The first inmate gestured with his fork. “Don’t you think it’s stupid to put all our eggs in Silence’s basket? That crazy bitch is probably just trying to get all of us killed.”

  “What do you recommend the queen do instead? She can’t wait until the stars align, asshole. Priest and Grigor won’t.”

  “You don’t even have any proof they’re coming. Maybe she just wants more territory, and she’s telling people what she wants them to hear.”

  “Bullshit. I didn’t imagine Priest’s attack on this place. They killed a mate of mine. Maybe you’re just a fragging coward, eh?”

  The second man whipped out a shiv and jammed it against the other’s jugular. “Go on. Say it again.”

  Dred strode up before the conflict hit critical mass, thumping a fist between them. “If you have a grievance, then challenge him.”

  With an angry snarl, the inmate put away his blade and went back to his breakfast, but his face was dark. Whatever the rules, this wasn’t over. Men like that didn’t forget offenses, and he hadn’t been locked up because he respected law and order. Jael ate, wondering how pervasive the fear was. They didn’t all trust her leadership—that much was evident—but Jael hoped these idiots would pull together long enough to do their jobs.

  Dred started to leave, but before she got two meters, a man stood up at another table. He was nearly as big as Einar, with small eyes and a heavy beard. He was grimy, like pretty much all Queenslanders, but that didn’t diminish his menacing air. He had fresh lashes on his back, which meant this must be Lecass. Jael tensed, but the convict didn’t rush her.

  Instead, he took a few measured steps and addressed Dred. “Time to die, bitch. I bided my time and choked down your new rules. I let your lackey humble me, but no more. I was Artan’s right-hand man, and I won’t tolerate this shit for another second.”

  The words “death match” swept through the watchful crowd. Men who had been bored with their food became avid. This was unexpectedly good entertainment, better than the vegetable mush Cook had prepared. Jael pushed to his feet and stepped up beside Dred. He wasn’t sure about the dynamics, but he did know he could kill this bastard for her.

  “I’ll fight as your champion,” he offered.

  Artan’s former lieutenant shot him a killing stare. “Step off. This isn’t a normal grudge match. If she wants to hold on to her throne, she has to fight me for it.”

  “He’s right,” Dred said quietly. “I have to answer this challenge.”

  “Which is more respect than you gave Artan.” The bearded man spat at her feet.

  Her jaw clenched. “Open combat’s not the only way to power.”

  “It’s the only one I respect.”

  Einar stomped up, big hands clenched into fists. “Why now, Lecass? You’ve had half a turn to speak your mind, issue a challenge. Why are you doing it right before a major offensive?”

  “Tam,” Lecass spat. “The little shit whipped me. Now I’ll make him watch her die.”

  “Bullshit,” a man called. “Maybe you’re working for Priest or Grigor, trying to kill the Dread Queen before she has the chance to kick their asses.”

  Lecass snarled at the accusations. “I’ll fight you next.”

  “You will not,” Dred said softly. “You’ve issued a challenge to me, and you won’t survive it. Let’s have it done.”

  All around, the men scrambled to move the tables, creating a space in the center of the hall. Jael had seen the fights before, but he hadn’t cared then. They were nameless thugs, and it didn’t matter who walked away. This time, it did. The whole landscape of Queensland would change without her, and it infuriated him that despite naming him her champion, she didn’t intend to make use of him.

  This is what I was created for.

  But at the same time, he understood that this was a personal challenge. If he won for her, it didn’t demonstrate her strength. It only showed that she could order someone else to do her dirty work. In Perdition especially, delegation made the wrong point.

  Einar threw himself into a seat beside Jael, scowling. “If he wins, I’ll kill him myself.”

  Right. For a few seconds, he’d forgotten her complicated personal life. While he’d just met Dred, the big man slept with her . . . and he loved her, as much as anybody could in a place like this. Jael wondered if Dred knew his story: of how he’d strangled his faithless wife, killing her unborn child, then started a blood feud with the lover’s family. He had no intention of telling her if she didn’t; it wasn’t like his hands were clean.

  “You think that’s a possibility?”

  “I don’t know. Artan used Lecass when he wanted to prove a point, but Dred’s tougher than she looks.”

  Before he could respond, Tam sat down on his other side. “This is a hell of a mess.”

  “Didn’t you see this coming?”

  The spymaster nodded. “I couldn’t prevent it. They’re not looking for dignity, good judgment, or wisdom. Here, only the strong prevail.”

  Once the men finished clearing, they moved tables strategically to form a makeshift ring. Dred stood in the center of it, waiting. Lecass tapped a foot impatiently; and from the man’s expression, he expected to finish her quickly. Jael had seen her in action with the chains, however, and he wondered if Lecass possessed an accurate estimation of her abilities.

  Better if he doesn’t.

  Calypso stood just outside the ring, counting down from five. “Fight!”

  Lecass held a blade in each hand. He leapt toward Dred, who was lashing her chains with customary fervor. But Lecass was big enough to take the lash on the shoulder, tough enough not to wince, and he barreled through her defenses. He slashed toward her throat; she spun low, dashing her chains on the ground to snag his ankle, but she didn’t have the physical power to pull him off his feet. In such a tight space, she didn’t have the advantage, either.

  “Disarm him!” Einar shouted.

  Dred blocked one knife, but Lecass was proficient with his left hand, too, and that one slashed down her rib cage. She gave no sign of the pain, however, merely danced back to regroup. Most Queenslanders cheered for her; some were taking bets as to how long she’d last. Blood streamed from her side as she changed her tactics. The Dread Queen wrapped her arms and knuckles with the chains, apparently deciding those tactics wouldn’t work here. Jael agreed.

  She made Lecass take the offensive, and the idiot bit. He charged like a bull with his knives at the ready; she waited until the last possible second so
that Jael imagined she felt the scrape of steel on her skin, then she slammed him with two heavy blows as he went by. Dred followed with a kick to his kneecap, not strong enough to pop it, but her boots were bladed, so the spurs bit deep into his flesh. Lecass bit out a pained curse and wheeled on her in a move fast enough that Jael would’ve had trouble countering it even with his enhanced reflexes.

  The right knife sank into her shoulder, and Lecass twisted it to maximize the damage. It took everything Jael had to stay in his chair. This is her fight. Beside him, the big man was pale, both hands clenched on his knees. Dred still didn’t cry out. Despite the wounds she’d taken, she fought in silence. This time she fell back, and with her eyes on Lecass, she pulled the blade out of the wound and threw it out of the ring, where it spattered her blood onto the floor.

  Lose something, asshole?

  All around, convicts roared with approval at the deliberate challenge. The nonchalance of the gesture enraged her opponent; he snarled as he ran at her, the remaining knife in his right hand. She’d lost reaction speed, though, along with blood, so her spin this time was clumsy, and she didn’t have complete range of motion in her injured shoulder.

  Finish him, Jael urged silently.

  Dred must’ve realized she didn’t have a lot more fuel in the tank. She stepped up her game, unleashing a one-handed assault. The chains lent weight to her strikes; she pummeled Lecass until he was reeling, then she spun a kick, putting all her force behind it. He fell back enough to avoid the full impact. The move left her open to a counterstrike; his blade opened her stomach. Jael’s heart surged into his throat.

  That’s it; she’s done.

  To his astonishment, she fought on. The pain staggered her visibly, but her resolve was apparent to everyone in the room. She wouldn’t go down. Each move she made telegraphed her determination as if she were shouting it—the only way I leave this ring is feetfirst. A chill ran through him as someone started chanting:

  “Dread Queen! Dread Queen!”

  Lecass heard it as well, and he hesitated. Apparently it hadn’t occurred to him that he wasn’t the crowd favorite. She drew strength from her supporters and went at the bastard again. He slipped in her blood, stumbled back, and Dred slammed both fists into his head. He went down and she kept up the onslaught. By the time she raised her chained fists, they were bloody, and she was . . . well, dying. He could tell by the color of her skin, the clammy cast to her features. In all honesty, Jael had no idea how she was still on her feet.

  “We have to get her out of there,” Einar said.

  Tam grabbed the big man’s arm. “No. She has to make it out on her own. Otherwise, this challenge proves nothing.”

  Swaying, Dred took Lecass’s knife and cut his throat. Then Calypso shouted, “Winner! The Dread Queen has defeated her challenger.”

  A ferocious cheer erupted from the crowd, and the men moved the tables to clear a path for her. Nobody touched her as she stepped out of the ring, each step a testament to her indomitable will. Jael surged to his feet, and Tam held him back.

  “Let her finish this. We’ll tend to her after.”

  Dred left a blood trail as she passed the men; the chanting continued until she left the hall. Only then did Tam release his grip, and the three of them sped after her. By the time they got to her quarters, she’d collapsed, and there was no rousing her. With wounds to her side, shoulder, and stomach, no surgeon on hand, no blood transfusions, there was only one way to save her, but he couldn’t do it in front of Tam and Einar. He didn’t trust either man fully. Hell, he didn’t trust anyone fully. Jael only knew that after a fight like that one, he couldn’t let her die.

  “Mary curse it,” Einar swore. “Lecass is dead, but she’s not going to make it either.”

  Tam bent over her, checking her vitals. Then the spymaster shook his head, sorrow written clearly on his fine features. “It’s just a matter of time now. I’ll check in storage to see if we have any pain medication. That’s all we can do.”

  “No,” Jael said. The lie that came next was necessary. “I have some training, but I can’t have either of you in the room while I work on her. If you want me to save her, leave now.”

  Both Tam and Einar vacated without another word.

  25

  Red Haze of Pain

  “Do you think he can save her?” Einar demanded of Tam.

  He lifted a shoulder, shrugging. “I hope so. Without her, I’m not sure if the alliance with Silence will hold.”

  “That’s what you care about?” the big man snarled.

  Tam sidestepped the punch, so that it slammed hard into the wall beside him. “I care about her, too. But it’s pointless to yield to worry when there are more pressing concerns.”

  “You’re an icy bastard.”

  Tam didn’t deny the charge. He’d heard worse. “I know you won’t budge until she’s better, so pull up a chair. You can guard the door, send for anything Jael needs.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Queensland won’t run itself in her absence,” he said quietly. “There’s work to be done to be sure there’s a sector left to her when she’s better.”

  “Thanks for saying ‘when.’”

  Tam slipped away without replying. He spoke to a number of people, assuring them that the Dread Queen would recover fully. He gave the story he wanted repeated, word for word, and soon enough, the news was making the rounds. Men were drinking, toasting her victory. In fact, the din in the hall was deafening.

  As he was trying to duck out, Calypso cornered him. “I saw that gaping wound in her gut. Tell me another story, little man. Like how she’s really doing?”

  “I believe she’ll make a full recovery.” Jael better be able to achieve the impossible; otherwise, all of Queensland would end up dead, chained in one of Priest’s torture rooms or slaving for the Great Bear. In conflicts like this one, there could be no surrender, no merciful terms or treaties to sign. Anything but complete annihilation was unacceptable to their enemies.

  Therefore, he had to finish what he’d started.

  He was careful to lead anyone who might be trailing him on a wild-goose chase. It seemed as if Lecass’s followers had been discouraged with his death. If not, then they were incredibly stupid, but it was best to take precautions nonetheless. His path carried him through the corridors in Queensland before he doubled back and entered the ducts at last.

  From there, he went straight down to the bowels of the ship.

  This part of Perdition held a musky smell, not unpleasant, but an interesting amalgam of odors, likely created by so many aliens living in close quarters. Though it didn’t compare to Queensland for space or resources, Tam would judge the Warren the second-best accommodations on the vessel. As promised during his last visit, an envoy awaited him, the same creature he’d rescued not so long ago. Her name was Keelah, and she’d claimed to be . . . precious to the leader of the Warren. That had been a harrowing trip, as he feared the injured female would die before they reached her people. His arrival with her had caused tremendous commotion, ending in a grudging offer of hospitality, then the subsequent conversation had been . . . enlightening.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked in universal, as she stepped forward.

  She had a furry, rodentlike face, and there was a bald patch on her torso from the wounds she’d taken at the hands of Priest’s fanatics. “Better. Katur’s waiting for you.”

  “Is he in a good mood?”

  The alien female made a chittering noise he took for laughter. “The best you can expect, brown man.”

  “It would’ve been worse if I hadn’t brought you back to him,” he predicted.

  At this, Keelah nodded. “This way, please. I hope you understand how privileged you are to walk among us. All other outsiders are killed the moment they set foot in our territory. For you to be permitted a return visit . . .”

  “I understand the honor extended to me,” Tam said.

  He was eager to finish this and
return to Dred’s side. Despite his words to Einar, he was worried about her as well. But some courtesies couldn’t be rushed or hurried. If he didn’t present the offer just right, there would be no second chances. And if he offended Katur, his people would execute Tam without hesitation. In this endeavor, he was a long way from Queensland and completely on his own. Of course, that was part of the thrill.

  With half an ear, he listened to Keelah’s words and made polite responses. It was funny how much more civilized the aliens were than the rest of Perdition, most likely because so many had been sentenced, not for dire offenses, but because of their difference from humanity. New Terra had become insular and hostile to aliens, offering harsh punishments against those who were caught dirtside illegally. Which meant these folk might have been condemned to this hellhole for immigration offenses.

  Damned Conglomerate bastards.

  But Tam was past the point of being surprised by anything governments might do, after what he’d seen on Tarnus.

  Keelah led him to a meeting room in what had probably been maintenance. Down here, the rooms were cramped and small, narrow corridors riddled with rust and heavy wear. He could still see signs of the old crew who had walked these halls in heavy boots coated in oil, impossible to eradicate all signs of the past, he supposed.

  “I greet you in peace,” Katur said, as they entered.

  He resembled Keelah in that they appeared to be the same species, but his features were sharper, and the male’s eyes were a keen amber, his fur a brindled brown where she was copper. They were a small and nimble species, from what Tam could tell, and he had insight as to why Katur had been chosen to lead when he didn’t seem like an obvious choice, based purely on size and strength. That indicated he had intellectual qualities that made him powerful, enough that oversized species like the Rodeisians would still follow him.

  “As do I,” Tam answered.

  Though it wasn’t protocol, he bowed as if he were greeting royalty. Katur seemed to appreciate the courtesy. “Sit down. Now that my Keelah has recovered fully, I’m willing to listen to your ideas.”