Perdition

  First, he was helpless with me—and then vice versa. It . . . changes things.

  Jael led her to one of the turrets, tilted it forward, and switched it to motion-sensing mode. Then, before she could protest, he dashed in front of it. The gun stayed quiet. Dred exhaled in nervous relief and tried not to show how worried she’d been.

  It’s just that he’s useful. If he gets himself killed, I’ve lost a valuable asset.

  “That was stupid,” she commented. “What if you were wrong?”

  “I almost never am.” He flashed a cocky smile, but this time, she recognized the vulnerability; Jael only used that look when he expected nobody gave a damn.

  Quickly, Dred checked. The corridor was deserted apart from them, as all of her men were clearing away the refuse in other parts of Abaddon. She took a couple steps toward him and tapped his chest lightly.

  “We have a situation. You have a tendency to risk your life recklessly. I don’t approve.”

  “And why is that, love?” For the first time, his use of that endearment didn’t sound razor-sharp, laced with derision. Maybe he didn’t mean for it to, but his voice softened, and his eyes burned with the blue found only at the heart of the hottest flames.

  “I found you,” she said softly. “I’m keeping you. Got a problem with that?”

  30

  Truth Hurts

  Tam circulated among the Queenslanders immediately after the victory. The overall mood was elated, though a few weren’t drinking away their ration cards. They had probably lost mates in the battle and didn’t feel like celebrating. Since Cook was supervising the liquor allotment, nobody tried to take more than his share from the still.

  Einar had settled down with Ike, who was favoring his left knee. Tam could always tell when it was paining the old man because he sat with it straightened before him. Once he finished his round, he made a cup of sweetleaf tea and joined his comrades. It was loud enough in the hall to cover any number of quiet conversations, so he didn’t worry unduly about seeking privacy.

  “Did anyone act suspicious while we were gone?” Tam asked Ike. He’d suspected the frontal assault on Priest might present an irresistible opportunity for a spy or saboteur to weaken Dred’s holdings. Ike’s word was the same as proof, so he’d have no qualms about disposing of a traitor who threatened Queensland.

  Einar sat up at the question, planting both elbows on the table. “I hope so. This would be the perfect time to make somebody disappear.”

  Unfortunately, Ike shook his head. “All the men who stayed behind went about their business. I didn’t see anything that seemed out of the ordinary.”

  Hm. That struck a chord. What if the spy was subtle enough to disguise his work? “I’ll be back. I need to take a look around.”

  It took Tam an hour to complete his assessment. The hydroponics garden was undamaged, and the barricades were all in place, but somebody had tampered with the Kitchen-mate that Wills had recently repaired. If he had ordered food without checking the chemical compositions programmed into the recipe databases, he mostly likely would’ve died. So would anyone else who used the machine. Men would start dying right and left in Queensland, and without adequate medical facilities, they’d think it was some unknown disease carrying off their number. Eventually, the superstitious bastards would blame Dred for not stopping the epidemic. As sabotage plans went, this one was elegant and insidious. And it sent a cold chill through him because it meant the enemy definitely had a man hidden among them; this wasn’t something an outsider could accomplish. Even Tam, who had an unusual aptitude for stealth, would find it impossible to creep inside the Great Bear’s lines and tamper with his Kitchen-mates. It required too much detailed knowledge of patrols and defenses for anyone but a Queenslander to have done this.

  Calypso came in while he stood, studying the machine. “Is it broken again?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Would you mind getting Ike for me? He might be able to fix it.”

  “No problem, little man. Guess I’ll be drinking my dinner again.”

  He managed a half smile. “Tired of Cook’s goulash? Don’t let him hear you say so.”

  The tall woman pretended to shiver. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I like my fingers all precisely where they are.”

  She strode off, leaving Tam to guard the Kitchen-mate. A few minutes later, Ike limped in, his expression split evenly between annoyance and discomfort. He couldn’t afford to let the old man’s infirmities distract him, though if life was fair, Ike would be basking somewhere warm and sunny, not taking the blame for somebody else’s scandal.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Ike grumbled.

  Quietly, Tam told him.

  Ike spent a full two minutes cursing. Then he said, “I don’t know enough about programming to counter this. But I can power it down, then restore it to factory defaults when it starts up again.”

  “Do it,” Tam said quietly. “How long will that take?”

  “You’re hoping we can get this done without the person responsible knowing we’ve neutralized the threat.” The old man wore a shrewd expression.

  He nodded. “We’ll watch and see if anyone takes unusual interest in Kitchen-mate meals. He or she will probably also examine the machine when there are no poison victims.”

  “And we’ll be ready,” Ike guessed.

  “That’s the plan.”

  Ike got to work immediately, pressing the buttons to shut down the Kitchen-mate. “How can you be sure it wasn’t me?”

  Tam couldn’t restrain a smile, despite the severity of the situation. “If you’re the traitor, Ike, then I’m not the judge of character I believe myself to be. More to the point, so far as I know, you’re the only innocent man in Perdition.”

  The old man shifted uncomfortably, pausing to aim a troubled gaze at Tam. “I was drunk when I told you that. Better if it’s not repeated.”

  “Understood.”

  Men survived on reputations, here. The other Queenslanders thought Ike had butchered fifty people like livestock. If they learned he’d been pushed to a false confession, it would make life more difficult for him. A cold rage filled Tam when he considered what the bastards in law enforcement had done to Ike. His case had been riddled with corruption until Ike was backed into a no-win situation. Then the family of the real killer, in conjunction with high-priced barristers, made Ike an offer he couldn’t refuse. He could take his chances and go to trial, where he would certainly be convicted, based on the false evidence, or he could willingly confess. If he did so, his wife and children would be compensated handsomely, and the true killer would be confined for life in a posh asylum for the criminally insane while his family avoided even a hint of scandal. Unsurprisingly to anyone who knew Ike, he took the deal to provide for his family. And he had been in Perdition ever since.

  “I might’ve been lying,” Ike said then.

  “And I might be queen of Tarnus.”

  The old man grinned. “Only if she pisses standing up. There, that’s got it.”

  Lights flickered in the control panel, showing the startup sequence. Ike pressed a series of buttons until a menu came up. Tam was impressed at how adroit Ike was with old technology. This was the first line of Kitchen-mates, primitive compared to the new ones, which had voice-activation modules. These, you still had to program by hand.

  “How’s it coming?” Tam kept an eye on the door.

  “Not long.” Ike held his gaze for a few seconds. “Do you plan to tell Dred about this?”

  He considered, then shook his head. “Her poker face isn’t as good as she thinks it is. And the more people who know about a trap, the more chances it will fail.”

  “I don’t know if I agree, but I’m good at keeping secrets. I won’t say anything.”

  Tam fell quiet then. It would be disastrous if the saboteur caught them, as it would return them to the beginning in terms of laying a trap to catch the spy. Despite the danger, however, this was just the sort of challenge Tam thrived on. In the e
nd, he’d come up on top. He always did, even when winning meant life in prison. After all, his incarceration signaled his greatest victory to date.

  * * *

  JAEL thought long and hard about his reply. In the end, he yielded to the impulse to flirt. “I suppose that depends on what you intend to do with me.”

  You know better. Don’t be stupid, man. While three in a bed worked for some people, four was just asking for trouble. Yet he didn’t step away or break eye contact. She gazed back from nearly at eye level; Dred was tall for a woman, just a few centimeters shy of his own height, and he measured a bit under two meters. He shouldn’t cup the back of her head in his hand, but he did—and gave her ample opportunity to retreat.

  This time, however, she kissed him. Dred gave him a little push, and he went with it, falling against the wall as her lips met his. She kissed like she fought: hard, demanding, and aggressive. The rasp of teeth on his lower lip made him groan, and she leaned into him, her hands framing his face. Such intimacy kindled a sharp ache. He couldn’t remember wanting anything—anyone—more.

  Trembling, he skimmed his palms down until they found her hips, and she still didn’t back off. She moved against him, oddly tentative, as if she wasn’t sure of his response—though that wasn’t in question—or her own intentions. It had been a long time, but this felt like the precursor to sex.

  Jael broke the kiss to ask, “Is that the answer to my question?”

  “Part of it,” she said softly.

  He wanted to ask what this meant, if she was looking to add him to her stable of men, if he’d be rotated in and out of her bed. Do Tam and Einar take turns or do they share? But questioning her would imply he cared about her personal arrangements. If the other men didn’t care if she slept with someone else, then he could deal with it, too.

  “I’m not opposed.”

  “Then let’s finish up here and get back to Queensland.” That sounded like a promise.

  He threw himself into the task of squaring Abaddon away, helping the others stack the supplies that would be transported immediately. A runner went back to their territory to fetch the air pallet, as some of the goods were too heavy to carry back by hand. Even so, the cleanup, salvage, and restoration efforts took hours.

  She probably won’t feel like making good on that implied offer by the time we get back.

  It had been an incredibly long day with the promise of harder work to come. Now they had to protect their extended borders as well as figure out a way to defeat the Great Bear. Even to him, it sounded daunting. Dred proved that rack time was the last thing on her mind when she ordered him back to Queensland guarding the air pallet while she stayed on to continue working.

  “You want me to return once we stow everything?”

  She shook her head. “Help Tam and Einar. Make sure the place is in order.”

  Ah. He only nodded and departed along with five other men. Fortunately, they encountered no trouble on the way back, and it didn’t take long to put away the supplies. Wills was delighted when he saw all the goodies Priest had stored up. Jael listened with only half an ear as the soothsayer went on about all the things he could do with such bounty.

  “Do you need anything else?” he asked.

  Wills shook his head. “Ike and I can take it from here.”

  The older man looked none too pleased to be volunteered for the task, but he set down his drink. “Fine. What do you need?”

  Oddly discontent, Jael joined Tam and Einar, who held a mug of something alcoholic. From the cloudy look of their drinks, the liquor came from the still. Come to think of it, the rest of the men seemed to be living it up, too. It wasn’t quite a victory party, probably because of the heavy losses, but given another hour or two, the wild celebration would be going, full swing.

  “Do we have anybody sober and on watch?” he asked.

  The big man scowled at him. “You think we’re idiots? Of course.”

  “It’s a low-risk opportunity for them to blow off steam,” Tam added. “The odds of a retaliatory strike so soon are low, and the men need a break, especially when everything went off exactly as we planned.”

  Einar laughed. “And that’s so unlikely, too. I can’t believe your alien gambit worked.”

  Jael froze, not that the other two men noticed. With a drink in hand, even the spymaster had lost his customary wariness in the spirit of celebration. But clearly, they both knew why the aliens from the Warren had been attacking Priest at such a convenient moment whereas he’d heard nothing about the scheme.

  “How did you get them to cooperate?” he asked.

  Tam tapped a finger on his mug, then shrugged. “In my old line of work, I never got to boast when a plan came together. This is a nice change. I was afraid our numbers wouldn’t stack up to the diversion Silence requested, so I took advantage of some . . . discord between Priest’s people and the aliens in the Warren.”

  “Brilliant,” Einar said, lifting his glass. “Priest’s people killed some, and it’s ugly stuff, dismemberment and evisceration, the markings and the blood painting left behind. The aliens keep to themselves, mostly, but they’re quite vicious if you get them riled.”

  Jael registered the cold calculation in Tam’s eyes. Often that look went unnoticed because the man moved silently and didn’t draw attention with violent behavior. But it didn’t mean he was a good man or better than the obvious brutes.

  “Took advantage, how?”

  “I performed a service for Katur. Between his anger at Priest and his gratitude, he was willing to fight.” That was vague enough to be frustrating, but Jael suspected Tam wouldn’t be offering full disclosure anytime soon.

  To him, we’re only numbers and probabilities. I doubt he has a single genuine emotion.

  “It worked like a charm,” Jael forced himself to say lightly.

  In his gut, a hole opened up. Dred must have known about the plan yet she’d chosen not to tell him—when it was his squad that would’ve been annihilated if the aliens hadn’t kept up their end of the deal. As it was, he’d lost all but five of his people. This meant she, too, saw him as a tool to be used: Sharpen the blade and keep it wet with blood. To make matters worse, she’d been perfectly willing to screw him as part of that arrangement, maybe even for the same reason she’d used her hand on him before—to keep him happy and compliant, asking no questions.

  To his surprise, he wasn’t content with scraps from her table. Never would be. In the hole where he’d languished for thirty turns, going quietly mad by millimeters, he’d come to the conclusion that he both wanted and deserved something better. He muttered about getting a drink, and neither Tam nor Einar watched him go, so apparently, he’d kept up a flat expression. Jael poured a mug of the strong liquor and took a seat at one of the other tables.

  Since he wasn’t paying much attention to his companions, he was surprised when Martine drew her chair over beside him. She clicked her drink against his. “Here’s to surviving when the other bastards didn’t.”

  “Cheers to that,” he said.

  “So what’s up with you and the Dread Queen?” the woman asked.

  Not shy, this one.

  “Why?”

  “You spent an awful lot of time holed up with her while she was recuperating. I thought there might be a reason.”

  There was, he thought. I was saving her life.

  He shrugged. “I have some medical background. Tam and Einar thought it was best if I supervised her care.”

  “You did a good job, then. She’s up and around faster than anyone expected.” The woman’s dark eyes twinkled, a contrast to her stark features and sharpened teeth. “I lost a week’s liquor rations when she pulled through. You ought to make that up to me.”

  “I take it you have some suggestions, bright eyes?”

  Her smile flashed; he could tell she liked the silly nickname. Some women had a partiality to it. Others fluffed up like irate cats, hissing and spitting until he convinced them he meant no disrespect.
Oddly, it was impossible to tell which way they’d swing by their appearances. Sometimes women who looked like Martine were unexpectedly girlish.

  “If you hadn’t noticed, women are a minority here,” she said bluntly. “I lost my man recently. I can take my pick because I’m honest, clean, and I don’t have anything that’ll make your dick fall off.”

  Jael laughed. “That’s the most original proposition I’ve ever received.”

  “Chuckle now. Just wait ’til you develop a permanent callus on your wanking hand.”

  “I wasn’t underestimating your value,” he assured her. “I’ve no doubt you’re a pearl beyond price.”

  “That nonsense won’t fly with me. I’m not looking for pretty words or declarations of love. That’s all bullshit anyway. Chemicals in your bloodstream make you think somebody matters more than they do.”

  Jael recalled speaking almost the same words to somebody else, turns ago. He wondered if she’d felt sorry for him then. His overall stance on romantic entanglements hadn’t changed, but now it saddened him to believe people were incapable of constancy. Yet he’d seen too much pain and suffering to imagine human beings were innately good—and Perdition only underscored the capacity for wickedness.

  “You were upset when they killed your man,” he said, probing.

  Martine practically snarled at him. “Because he was mine, not because I loved him. I counted on him for sex and company—and to have my back in a fight. If you’re looking for more than that in here, you’re crazier than Wills.”

  Since the soothsayer was currently holding an animated conversation with a maintenance bot of very limited programming, it was a compelling argument. Jael lifted one shoulder, forcing away the lingering sense of betrayal. “I’m not seeking anything in particular, bright eyes.”