Perdition

  “Don’t let it happen again,” Dred snarled.

  Tam could see that she was unsettled by the visit to Silence’s domain. He would be, too, if he hadn’t seen—and smelled—it many times before, during his surveillance runs. Once, he’d witnessed their Festival of Death, and it had been the most grotesque and macabre spectacle imaginable, with fountains of blood and swords made of bone arming men whose sole aim was to die in a manner pleasing to Death’s Handmaiden. Despite his external calm, Tam suppressed a shiver. This alliance made him uneasy, but it was necessary.

  “Let’s head back,” he murmured, revealing none of his misgivings.

  Tam knew the route with his eyes closed, but smudges in the dust and smeared palm prints made it fairly obvious, even to the other two. Maintenance tunnels riddled the ship like a honeycomb, and sometimes, he had to avoid other explorers. He motioned to Dred and Jael to step lightly as footfalls rang out in the distance. This convict must be new to the art of stealth, as he banged around, running into walls and stumbling so loud that Tam suspected they could hear him in the Warren.

  “That’s not normal,” Dred whispered.

  He only nodded. It seemed prudent to find out who this was and from what sector, so he answered in an undertone, “Wait here. Don’t move.”

  With quiet approval, he noted how the other two hunkered down into the shadows. Their posture wasn’t perfect, but Jael obviously had some experience in skullduggery. That startled Tam not at all, given the man’s overall predatory air. But some predators could be trained to guard territory, and if that was the case, then Tam definitely had a use for the new fish.

  He crept along the metal wall, tracking the thumps and bumps until he was right up behind the other party. At that point, he realized the man’s clumsiness stemmed from injuries, not lack of care, and in the larger sense, it wasn’t a man at all, but one of Katur’s aliens. The creature stumbled again, reeled against the wall, and this time, its limbs wouldn’t hold it. Tam weighed the risks and decided his course; he slipped back to the others without speaking.

  “Who was it?” Dred asked.

  He lied without compunction. “Just an oversized rodent, dying badly.”

  He had no way to be sure how long it took, given their relative lack of agility, but eventually, they dropped down from the access panel just inside Dred’s borders. An ominous feeling stole over him when they came to the last checkpoint. Four bodies littered the ground, blood everywhere, and there was no sign of the men who had killed them.

  “Grigor?” Jael asked.

  Dred shook her head as she knelt. “This looks like Priest’s work. See the holes punched through their palms? It’s a calling card of sorts.”

  “A raiding party?” Tam suggested. “If so, we should look for the other incursion site. The Bear mentioned a two-pronged attack.”

  “Possibly. I didn’t think they’d organize this quick. We need to move quietly and assess the situation.” So saying, she didn’t unwind the chains from her forearms.

  Tam approved of that caution. If things were worse than anticipated, he could lead her away from the danger and find refuge elsewhere. He had scouted more than a dozen locations that few other men were likely to find. It was impossible to store provisions, as supplies were so scarce, but if they couldn’t find Dred, then neither Priest, nor Grigor, could claim they had destroyed Queensland. Tam understood that it was a risk in setting so much power behind one woman, but he felt confident he had read her correctly. She was not a lesser metal, and she wouldn’t crumple beneath the weight before the game played out.

  “Follow me,” he whispered to the other two.

  They fell in behind him, and Jael went up in Tam’s estimation. Some men saw his lack of stature and tried to shove him aside to get close to Dred. It spoke well of Jael that he was smart enough to understand that Tam’s value lay in something other than battle skill or muscle mass.

  The enemy had been careless, leaving bloody footprints all the way to the hall. That let Tam gauge roughly how many lay ahead. He expected a fight, but when they reached the hall, he saw a number of enemy corpses instead. Einar looked like hell, but he was organizing the cleanup. His scarred features showed immediate relief when he saw Dred returning unharmed.

  “What happened?” Dred demanded.

  “Skirmish.” Einar indicated the damage to the main hall, along with the wounded men being tended. “Twenty-five men. It wasn’t enough to seize control, so I’m not sure what Priest was thinking.”

  “I am,” Jael said. “It’s a classic guerrilla tactic. Send pawns to weaken the queen. Weaken with wave after wave of expendable forces. And once your opponent has nothing left in reserve, you send the full might of your army to crush them.”

  Dred turned to him. “You sound like a soldier.”

  “I’ve been one, among other things.”

  That surprised Tam. He wouldn’t have guessed that Jael had enough discipline or self-control to accept orders on a daily basis, but as he mulled what to do with this new information, Dred said, “Good. Then you’ll be in charge of tactics. Confer with Tam while I work with Einar in getting things squared away.”

  An admirable allocation of resources. Sometimes Tam wondered if he underestimated her. He didn’t know much about her life before she had been sentenced to life—and death—in Perdition. She made it a point not to discuss her past, and she didn’t ask many questions of other people, either. Just as well. I would’ve lied.

  To Jael, he said, “Meet me in Dred’s quarters in a couple of hours. I’ve something to take care of first.”

  Still calculating odds and scenarios, Tam hurried off to collect food and medical supplies. He hoped it wasn’t too late for the creature in the ducts, as that would upset all his plans.

  Astonishment colored everything for a few, brief seconds, then Jael nodded, though Tameron was already leaving. He had some time to kill, so he went to the hydroponics garden. There were a couple of workers inside, but they took no notice of him. The lights were bright, almost like the sun, and it was the most peaceful place he’d found on Perdition. Little wonder the other leaders wanted to take this oasis and burn it down. For a few seconds, he simply breathed, enjoying the way the plants scented the air. It would be nice if I knew their names, too.

  A woman glanced at him belatedly. “Can I help you?”

  He shook his head. “I’m just exploring. I’ll be working here eventually, so I wanted to learn my way around.”

  “Let me know if you have questions,” she said.

  He did have some, and she wound up showing him how to care for some of the vegetables. Therefore, the time went fast. Eventually, Ike ambled in.

  “Tam’s looking for you. Just thought you should know.”

  Jael swore, thanked the woman for her time, and jogged toward Dred’s quarters. The door swished open to reveal Tam; Jael stepped inside, and the other man indicated he should make himself comfortable. Since the room consisted of a bunk, a couple of hard chairs, and a broken entertainment console, it wasn’t much, but since he was happy to be consulted on anything, he had no comment on the paltry accommodations. The merc commanders who recruited him paid him to march or kill; they didn’t ask his opinion. It occurred to him that he’d only been a part of things in this way once before, and he’d thrown it away in fear the situation would sour. Fear had driven him to trade potential friendship for a payday.

  Even in a place like this, he wouldn’t repeat the mistake again. Lab techs had called him subhuman, but he was capable of learning from his mistakes. Of course, they’d said those things because they were rationalizing their choice to experiment on him. Jael was lucky they had never plumbed the full extent of his regenerative gifts or learned how they could be useful to other people . . . or he’d never have left the lab that last time.

  They were wrong about me, he told himself. I’m a person. I can learn. I can.

  Deep down lay the cold, curling fear that, in fact, he couldn’t. That he was a br
oken thing, born of mechanical bits, electrical impulses, and a scientist’s meddling. Perhaps I cannot learn. But he meant to try. He had read a story of spirits being refined in pits of fire, so that they were better and stronger when they climbed out. Back then, it had seemed likely they would only be destroyed.

  But maybe not. Hope tormented him.

  Jael was surprised to identify the anger he felt over the attack. Not because he was so attached to the sentries but because of what it represented. Priest and Grigor were determined to take Dred’s territory. Not on my watch.

  * * *

  AFTER he sat, Tam said, “Grigor has the greater number of men whereas Priest has zealots. If he orders them to come and die, they’ll do so without protest.”

  Jael nodded. “Priest will supply the shock troops. He’ll attempt to wear us down. It will be imperative to defend, as every loss will impact morale.”

  “You think there’s such a thing as morale in a place like this?” Tam eyed him as if he represented a question to which there was no answer.

  “In Queensland, yes. It’s better than Munya or Entropy or—”

  “I take your point. And yes, it is. Dred tries to run this place like a city. A city where all the citizens are right bastards, but she keeps the torture and bloodshed to a minimum.”

  “Is it better than it was under Artan?” He didn’t even know why he was asking.

  Tam surprised him by answering, “Much. I was his spymaster first, but Artan was too like Grigor. No ability to plan, he only cared to take or own. There were food shortages. The hydroponics garden stopped producing, and Artan’s solution was more blood sport.”

  “Why?” Jael asked.

  “Because he knew we’d end up with less mouths to feed.”

  “Is that when you decided to dispose of him?”

  Amusement flickered in the other man’s dark eyes. “Is that what you think? I took care of Artan quietly, then deposited Dred on the throne to give the men someone prettier to serve?”

  Put like that, it did sound offensive. Not only to Tameron—because it implied he couldn’t lead men himself—but to Dred, as it suggested she lacked the wherewithal to seize power on her own. He suspected neither implication was true.

  “Then tell me what really happened.”

  “I think it best that we focus on battle plans. It’s too good a story for me to deprive Dred the pleasure of telling you herself.”

  For some reason, that sounded ominous. Jael pretended he didn’t detect the faint burr of ambivalence coming from the other man. Maybe Tam thought he posed some threat to their arrangement or wanted to stretch the triangle to a quadrilateral. That couldn’t be further from the truth. So few things had been his alone that he could never share a woman, even if she were his for only an hour.

  “Fair enough.”

  For the next half hour, they discussed the probable progression of the attacks and devised strategies to counter that wouldn’t end in a massive outlay of resources or in a pile of Queenslander corpses. It felt odd to play such a role, but he didn’t mind. In a way, it was nice to feel like he was fighting for his home ground.

  He didn’t mean to stay, of course.

  As soon as they dealt with this situation, he’d evaluate the ship and figure out a way to force himself back on one of the automated transports. If I have to smash one of the Peacemaker units with my bare hands, then that’s how it’ll be. He was shamed by his inability to flee the Bug planet. Mostly, that came from the absolute isolation. He hadn’t left his cell in turns. The food was delivered once a day, and the bars were too strong for him to break. He’d tried tunneling out, but after he dug through the floor, he ran into a rock face so strong, it would’ve taken a diamond drill to cut it. If the Conglomerate hadn’t extradited him, he would’ve died there.

  However long it took.

  “Those are good ideas,” Tam said, seeming surprised.

  “You thought I was just a pretty face?”

  “No. Rather that you were conning Dred.”

  “Give me more credit than that,” the woman said as she entered, Einar behind. Another man followed; Jael recognized Ike, the old man with eyes that missed nothing.

  “Sorry,” Tam said. “I should’ve known you only took him up because you saw real potential.”

  Jael cocked a brow. “Must you make me sound like a stray pet?”

  “Don’t let it bruise your ego. But Tam’s right; I’d have let you come to Queensland, but you wouldn’t be in on the planning if you weren’t a cut above.” By her expression, she meant nothing against the men currently wandering her domain, handling patrols, playing cards in the hall, sleeping and taking up space.

  “So it’s a full council meeting,” Ike said then. He dropped onto Dred’s bed as if they had done this before, away from prying eyes.

  “Tell me what you saw, just before the attack,” Dred demanded of the old man.

  Quietly, Ike summarized the assault: how Priest’s hunting party came in the west corridor, fighting like madmen. There had been casualties, Jael knew, but he wasn’t sure how many dead or wounded. That wasn’t his purview anyway. In Perdition, it would be hard to find anyone who could be pressed to play medic. Most men inside preferred cutting people up to stitching their wounds.

  “The men rallied well,” Einar offered. “Considering how Priest’s people are, I’m pleased with how quick we killed them.”

  Dred nodded at that, still looking at Ike. “Did anyone look nervous . . . or expectant? Did anyone take cover a little too soon?”

  Tam copped to her line of thought at once. “You think we have a traitor?”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences. We set out for Entropy, and while we’re gone, Priest strikes? Someone sent word, I think.”

  “How?” Einar asked, scowling. “The three of you were in the ducts. Comm systems have been down for years . . . and Mungo’s using half the electronics to keep his Kitchen-mates in service.”

  Dred tapped her fingers lightly against one thigh, just above her thin leather boots. “That is . . . an excellent question.”

  11

  Rolling the Bones

  Twenty casualties. Dred shook back her braids, trying to seem unconcerned. After the meeting, Tam had provided the preliminary head count—and they couldn’t afford the losses. While Silence was a deadly killer, she didn’t have the largest army. The lunatic was too fond of death, Dred supposed.

  I won’t lose this war in pieces. We’ll regroup.

  Because it needed to be done, Dred spent hours tending the wounded. Some required triage, and they had to be put down. Trying to keep them alive required resources, and she’d gotten good at knowing a lost cause when she saw one: gray skin, pale and clammy to the touch, blood gurgling in the lungs. Those were all signs that a man wouldn’t last. When she found one like that, she called Einar.

  He made an efficient executioner. She’d never asked him if he minded, only if he was willing. But she’d read him the first time she requested it of him, and there was only gray. He wouldn’t be one of her lieutenants if he took pleasure in it, but for the big man, it was only another job. Which made her wonder about his past, but she didn’t break the code to ask.

  By the time she finished, all the casualties were either resting comfortably or being hauled away to the recycling chutes. Einar came back to her when the corpses were gone, looking troubled. “I’ve been thinking about what you said in your quarters.”

  “About the rat in our walls?” So had she.

  Little else, too.

  He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Could Wills help us figure out who?”

  “His prognostications, so far, have been just vague enough to stir up trouble without giving us any real information.”

  “But you think he’s got a real gift.”

  Dred lifted a shoulder, by which she meant anything was possible. “Something drove him crazy, and he was like that when I met him. Could be a real gift.”

  “Or it c
ould be the bad things he did to end up here. Or life inside.” Einar sounded disappointed, as if he wanted to solve her problems with a simple suggestion.

  If only it could be that straightforward—summon Wills, roll the bones, find the traitor. Then I could make an example of him and turn my attention to defeating two dangerous enemies.

  “It couldn’t hurt to ask him,” she decided aloud.

  Einar seemed gratified. “I’ll go get him.”

  She sank down on her throne, wondering if her people thought she was as crazy as Silence. It wasn’t a question she’d considered before, but the new fish’s presence brought it to mind. Dred surveyed the scene, trying to picture it through Jael’s eyes. This enormous scrap-metal monstrosity didn’t exactly proclaim mental stability, and then there were the chains she wore everywhere—

  “Is it true?” The speaker who had approached while she pondered was a deceptively young-looking woman: slim, tan skin, with a very pretty face. Martine also had her teeth filed to sharp points and a tendency to shove a blade through people’s eyes if they annoyed her.

  “What?” Dred asked.

  “That we’re in bed with Silence’s crew?”

  “Call it a working arrangement until we deal with Priest and Grigor.”

  Martine spat. “We should just go kill the motherfuckers.”

  “Feel free. If you can get past all their traps, the automated defenses Priest has co-opted—and I think he’s got some of those Peacemaker units running again, too—plus all the men? Then you deserve to run all the territories.”

  “Those sound like excuses to me. Artan would never—”

  “Artan’s dead,” she said icily. “So will you be if you keep questioning me.”

  Dred pushed slowly to her feet, unwinding her chains from her arms. She leveled her coldest look on the other woman, knowing Martine wasn’t as susceptible to her legend as the men. This woman saw through the stories Tam and Einar circulated to inspire awe among the troops. Fortunately, she could perform just enough magic tricks to lend them credence.

  Martine took a step back, but she didn’t drop her eyes. “My man went down the chute today. What do you intend to do about it?”