Perdition

  Except a way out of here.

  But he’d had enough of people telling him that was impossible, so he didn’t share his intention to escape. Even if I have to pull this place apart, bolt by bolt, I’m not staying. There was always a way if you fought hard enough, long enough. Sometimes, the ferocity of his resistance carved a new path. If that was what it took, so be it.

  “Consider my offer,” she said, downing the rest of her drink. “Not too long, mind. There’ve already been others asking if I want a new man in my bed.”

  He offered a wink. “None as pretty as me, I bet.”

  Martine tilted her head, inspecting him. By the time she finished, he suspected she knew exactly how he looked naked—and what he could do with his equipment. “That’s true. But there are other considerations.”

  “Like what?” He raised a brow.

  This should be enlightening.

  “Some things, a man should figure out on his own. Another round?”

  At his nod, she stood and refilled their mugs. The alcohol was strong as hell and tasted disgusting. There was no point in drinking except to blend in. So he downed a few mugs and laughed in the right places, trying to ignore the hot, red coal in his chest. People can’t be trusted. No matter how many times he learned this lesson, he was like a dumb animal, just as they’d said in the labs. Always, someone managed to get under his skin and wound him again.

  By the time the Dread Queen returned, Martine was perched on his knee, feeling no pain. It amused him to see such a dangerous woman laugh so hard over an improbable story related by a drunken convict. When she saw them, Dred stilled in the center of the hall, eyes intent. He wondered if he was supposed to set Martine aside, heel to her like a dog now that she’d returned at last. He met her gaze across the room, smiled, and lifted his glass in a silent toast.

  Then, deliberately, he set his hand in the small of Martine’s back and turned away.

  31

  King of Infinite Space

  I can’t wait to get him alone.

  Eagerness made Dred hurry; her boots rang on the metal floor as she strode into the hall, searching for him. Part of that anticipation sprang from human physiology. She wanted to celebrate their triumph in the most elemental way possible . . . and she’d chosen to celebrate with him because of the complex web that bound them. Sex would be different, more intense, with someone who had saved her life. And I saved his, too. Maybe those bonds should make her run even faster in the opposite direction, but she was curious—

  Found him.

  Jael’s hand was elegant on the other woman’s spine, a silent message. She turned away slow enough that no one would remark a reaction, spoke a few words to some nearby Queenslanders. Rightfully, they were celebrating the win with lots of liquor. She wished she had that same freedom.

  Once she was sure her departure wouldn’t be deemed strange or abrupt, Dred wheeled and went in search of other business. She was too proud to hole up in her quarters—and besides, she had work to do. The Dread Queen never rested. Fortunately, nobody knew that she’d planned to take Jael to her bed; and it would stay that way. If he preferred Martine, so be it.

  She found Ike in a storage closet, a cramped space piled with junk they’d dragged back from the salvage bay and been unable to find immediate use for. With his long, iron gray hair and impressive beard, he resembled a pagan king of broken things. That unlikely thought in mind, she paused in the doorway.

  “May I come in?”

  He hesitated, as if there was something on his mind. Then he just answered, “Queensland belongs to you. Of course you can.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. The power to rule came from the Queenslanders, and if she pissed off enough of them, they would find a way to remove her. She was always conscious of the line she walked and how fickle public opinion could be, especially when her constituents were hardened criminals. Voting wouldn’t be anything so kind as chits of paper, either; instead, she would be impeached with a shiv in the throat or a weight upside her head. Constant caution made her paranoid though Tam would say it wasn’t madness when the danger was real.

  Dred joined him and closed the door; she didn’t know how he spent long hours in here. “How close are you?” she asked.

  The old man shrugged. He had been rebuilding the Peacemaker since they returned from the salvage-bay run. From what she could tell, he had the thing about half put together. It wasn’t an original unit, however, more of a retrofit constructed of other materials. So it didn’t look the same as it had before it was broken; there was probably a valuable metaphor in that. But more importantly, he had managed to get the weapons back in place. A Peacemaker without the Shredder and laser gun wouldn’t serve much purpose.

  “I’m having trouble with the programming,” he said. “And Wills keeps demanding that I help him with that stupid maintenance bot, or the turrets, and whatever else he’s working on.”

  Dred smiled slightly. “You’re allowed to tell him no, you understand. He’s not authorized to give you orders.”

  “You know how he is. I can either help him out or listen to irrational ranting for an hour or watch him cursing the wall roundly. Then he starts in with his ritual of threes—”

  “I’m starting to suspect he’s not crazy at all, ever. That he slips in and out of it like a skin, when he wants something, needs a diversion or to make people look away.”

  Ike nodded at that. “Me, too. Can you hand me that—” She hovered her palm over a random pile of gears, metal bits, and wires. “Yes, that one.”

  “Is he helping you with the Peacemaker?” she asked, once he had the part.

  “No, this is a project just for me. He’s busy enough with his own work.”

  “You know an awful lot about bots.” It was a borderline invasive question, as he hadn’t given any indication he wanted to confide in her.

  “Are you asking me what I did before I ended up in here?”

  “If that’s all right,” she said quietly.

  At the moment, she felt less the Dread Queen and more like Dresdemona Devos, who had worked on a freighter in the maintenance department before she made so many wrong turns. Consequently, she knew a little about repair work, but nothing compared with Ike and Wills. She watched for a few seconds, then at his signal, handed him another component.

  “I worked for Pretty Robotics,” he answered at length.

  “I’ve heard of them. They manufacture those realistic androids?”

  “Indeed.”

  The units came with human-looking bodies and advanced programming. A number of companies preferred them to flesh-and-blood employees as they didn’t require benefits, never got sick, and took no vacation days. That created problems with the labor boards over their discriminatory practices, making it harder for organic workers to earn an honest living. She recalled studying the protests in her history courses, but growing up on remote Tehrann, she had never encountered a Pretty Robotics unit—or anyone who had designed them.

  From his expression, she could tell Ike was waiting for her to ask how he went from working at a reputable company to a life sentence. She didn’t. “That explains how you know so much about this sort of thing.”

  “Mmhm. So why are you hiding?”

  Denying the charge would insult his intelligence. “I just needed a break. People won’t look for me here like they would in my quarters. Tam and Einar come and go as they please.”

  “Then welcome to my kingdom,” he said with gentle irony.

  That put her in mind of a quote: “‘I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.’”

  “Do you?” he asked.

  She dreamed of the life she’d left behind more than of the things she’d done, but knowing she’d never see her family again, never know what became of them? Those old memories took on the nuance of nightmare. “Sometimes. Doesn’t everyone?”

  “In here? I suspect so, though some would deny it; others h
ave no conscience; and some simply can’t remember. For them, sleep is more like dying.”

  “Is it possible to do the things we’ve done and keep one?” she wondered aloud.

  “A conscience, you mean? Quite the philosophical inquiry.”

  “Never mind,” she said. “I’m in an odd mood.”

  “It’s all right to ask the tough questions now and then, just not when the questions become a way of avoiding or disavowing responsibility.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “I never said so. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just helping an old man chase an impossible dream.” With that, Ike gave his blessing for her to stick around as his assistant; it was a welcome break.

  “What’s impossible about it?”

  “Are you looking at this unit?”

  At his incredulous tone, she tried to see the Peacemaker through his eyes. “It has less than half the original parts, and it’s quite damaged. But somehow I don’t think that’s what you’re talking about entirely.”

  “You’re a perceptive woman. I also meant that if I can get it running, I won’t feel as though I’ve outlived my usefulness—that I’m contributing to society again.”

  “Society,” she repeated with a bitter laugh.

  “It’s strange and warped, but we have our own ways. You’ve changed things just enough since Artan died, made things better without taking away the promise of violence.”

  “That was Tam’s idea,” she admitted. “He said if we can limit grudges and grievances to the ring, there will be less random fighting.”

  “Tam’s a clever one, full of intriguing notions.” There was a coolness to Ike’s tone.

  “You don’t care for him?”

  “Hold this steady while I attach it.” He wasn’t avoiding the question, just delaying it while he fiddled with the Peacemaker. Dred did as he asked, then the old man answered, “Tam knows a great deal about manipulation. Look at the way he rules Queensland through you—all of the power and none of the accountability.”

  She’d never considered their relationship in those terms. Tam had been the one to find her, just after she killed Artan. Without his quick thinking and immediate intervention, things would’ve gone much differently. In truth, she hadn’t been planning a coup or intending to steal the man’s territory, it was only that she couldn’t stand for him to breathe another second.

  Dred framed defensive words like He’s only doing what’s best for Queensland, but she had no evidence of it. She followed his counsel because he was smart and devious and had been at her side since she came to power, guiding her along the paths he chose. So far, his advice had built her an impressive legend and secure rule, but it didn’t mean Tam would always play fair.

  “You think I rely on him too much,” she guessed.

  “The others haven’t noticed the way he pulls your strings, my queen, but the court fool always speaks his mind, even if the consequences could be dire.”

  “You’re not my jester. And I hate that whole court nonsense.” Which was Tam’s idea. “As for the latter, don’t talk rubbish. I’d never chop the head off the one honest man I know.”

  Ike laughed. “Glad to hear it. But so far as the rest of Queensland is concerned, I’m the fool, and I don’t entirely mind. You’ve got Wills as the mad wizard, after all.”

  “You’re saying circumstances could always be worse?”

  The old man winked, leaving her to work out the meaning for herself. He changed the subject. “I’ve no evidence that Tam has nefarious intentions. I’d just like to see you think harder before you follow his advice, that’s all.”

  “I will,” she promised. Considering for a few seconds, she added, “Do me a favor. Don’t tell anyone about this side project. If Wills was right about another spy in our midst, then I don’t want him to have a full picture of our defensive capabilities.”

  Ike laughed softly, his pale blue eyes twinkling in the dim light. She wasn’t sure what amused him so much, and when he asked, “Not even Tam?” she still didn’t know.

  “Nobody,” she said firmly.

  “Now you’re thinking like a queen, tricksy as Tam on his best day.” Ike frowned at the tangle of wires in the open chassis before him. “But right now, there’s nothing to tell anyway. The damned thing won’t even turn on, let alone function as intended.”

  “If you need any resources in particular to make it happen, let me know. A working Peacemaker would change everything in this territory.”

  “If Einar and Jael don’t turn on you, then pull the thing apart for your enemies.” The old man grinned.

  “Wills told you about that, huh? It was . . . impressive as hell.” She paused, tilted her head, then asked, “So why aren’t you cautioning me about trusting you? Maybe you’re working for Grigor, and you have instructions to use your subtle wit to drive a wedge between Tam and me. Without his good advice, my confidence will falter, the Queenslanders will notice, and it’ll all be downhill from there.”

  To her surprise, Ike was nodding in apparent approval. “Those are the questions you need to ask, and only you can decide the answers. You might be right . . . I could be an agent provocateur. I’m relieved it occurred to you, frankly.”

  Groaning, she leaned her head back against the towering pile of parts lining the wall behind her. Dred drew her knees up and rested her chin on them. The chains that wrapped her boots rasped against the links twined around her arms. She closed her eyes, unsure how she would muster the drive necessary to destroy the Great Bear; there was no chance Grigor would back down, now that his alliance with Priest was done. She pictured him ranting to his soldiers, promising them glory, property, and additional living space.

  “I have to kill him,” she said quietly. “And it seems so impossible right now. We’re better situated than before, but—”

  “Stop there. No buts. You mustn’t think of the insurmountable obstacles, only determine the way to get the job done. That’s your role, making us believe in impossible things.” Beneath his deft hands, something snicked into place, and the Peacemaker whirred to life briefly, the lights where its eyes would be burning bright as the sun, then it shuddered and powered down. Ike swore. “Just as mine is never to give up on this damned artificial beast.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  32

  In the Garden

  The room that housed the hydroponics garden was enormous, comparable to the great hall, only instead of drunken, smelly Queenslanders, this space was lush and green, every available surface covered with plants spilling out of specially formulated pods. Row upon row of tables supported the groaning weight of the garden, somewhat miraculous without soil. Not high-tech like a Kitchen-mate, but it was magnificent. Jael knew jack-all about nurturing anything; he was far better at killing, maiming, and setting things on fire. But some of his internal rawness drained away as he stood breathing in the cool, damp air. Special lights hung overhead, providing nutrients to the flora.

  Beside him, Martine tapped a foot. “You wanted to stop in here. So?”

  Two workers—a man and a woman—were doing something to the plants, not close enough to overhear their conversation, though. Unless they have hearing like mine. Martine grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the door. She wasn’t as drunk as she had been, but Jael wouldn’t call the woman sober.

  “I think I’ll stick around. See if they need a hand.”

  “Seriously?” She eyed him with disbelief edged in slow-dawning comprehension. “You’re after the queen, aren’t you? Talk about setting your sights high, new fish. But it makes no sense you let me on your lap if you wanted somebody else there.”

  Dred wasn’t the kind of woman who perched on a man’s knee; she was too prickly for that—or so he imagined. He figured he’d end up with a chain upside his head if he tried. He found himself muttering, “I was actually sending her a message.”

  “What, that you’re an asshole?”

  “She already knows that.?
??

  Martine gazed at him owlishly as she appeared to puzzle out his meaning. “So . . . you wanted her to think you’re not interested in nailing her even though you are? What kind of stupid, fragged-up mess is that? In here, good sex is the best thing you can get.”

  “What makes you think I’d be any good?”

  “Just a hunch.” She shrugged. “Not like I’m about to find out, now. For the record, I’m not interested in your ass anymore. You’re too stupid for me.”

  He laughed. “That so, bright eyes? I’m crushed to hear it.”

  “Don’t come to me looking for help or advice again. I will stab you. But this once, here’s a free tip. If a woman pisses you off, you talk to her. You don’t grab somebody else’s ass.”

  “I never—” he started. She gave him a look. “Maybe I did. A little.”

  “Damn right you did. Now frag off, new fish. I got bigger men to fry. Or something.”

  “Bigger maybe,” he said. “But not better.”

  “Keep telling yourself that and wonder why you sleep alone.” Martine sauntered out of the garden room.

  It was a great exit line, but Martine’s words made Jael realize that he’d let a lifetime of raw deals drive him to a number of assumptions. He’d leapt immediately to the conclusion that Dred didn’t care whether he lived or died, as long as he served his purpose, but her behavior had run completely counter in every instance. For Mary’s sake, she’d fought for his life against the odds when he was poisoned. Nobody had ever done that before.

  With his behavior, he’d rewritten their tacit agreement without a word, reneging on the deal they’d made in the hallway with hands and mouths. At the moment, Dred was probably puzzled and pissed, so he’d give her some time to cool off before he explained why he’d used Martine as a defensive shield. That had always been his thing, showing people how much he didn’t give a frag when they betrayed him. And maybe she wouldn’t give a damn; that was likely, in fact.

  In the meantime, he’d help out in the garden. Maybe he could be useful, if not wise. So he strode over to the two workers, bravado in place of skill. “I’m Jael. I don’t know anything about gardening . . . but I have two hands.”