Havoc (28 page)

39

Honor Among Thieves

Dred split off with Tam and Katur. Jael didn't like it, but he seemed to understand her reasoning. They needed to spread their strength around and clear as much ground as fast as possible. Otherwise, Queensland might never recover. The fighting went fairly well for a while. Despite her weariness, it was no trouble to kill cannibals or Silence's killers when they stumbled on them. The room they stepped into next, however, held three mercs, all fully armored, geared up with heavy weapons.

She froze.

The distance between her and the merc group was such that she could get away, but she was less sure about her companions. Tam and Katur stood at her back and neither of them wore armor. If the mercs opened fire, she'd survive, most likely. The other two would not. Slowly, she lowered her weapon.

“Why don't we settle our grievance, Perdition-style?”

“What did you have in mind?” Vost asked, flipping up his visor so she could see his face . . . and he could read hers, human instincts replacing technical assessments. She'd heard Vost's voice crackling through the old emergency announcement system now and then, but in all of their encounters, she'd never seen his face. He was older than she'd expected, square iron jaw and lines about his eyes, black-and-silver hair shorn down close to his skull. Old bruises dotted his face in various hues from blue to green; cuts had scabbed over on his left cheekbone. He had hazel eyes with crow's-feet radiating outward; they spoke of long turns squinting into the sun, not smiles or laughter.

She didn't like realizing that she was looking into the eyes of a decent man. “Grudge match. Usually, it's to the death.”

“It's smarter for me to kill you all.” His men raised their weapons.

“You could try. The rest of my people will likely be here at any moment, and there's so few of you, unless you're hiding the rest. Wonder how many mercs went boom . . . I suspect it was all of them but you three.”

A flicker in his eyes told her she was right. Dred repressed a smirk. This wasn't the time to muck up the negotiations by being an asshole. The fact that he was talking instead of shooting told her he might be amenable to an alliance if she gave him the right opening and an opportunity to save face.

He wore a hard look. “The fact is, those men made their choices.”

Her eyes widened as she realized what happened. “They betrayed you. They were stealing the ship, stranding you here. That must really piss you off.”

“Nothing I can do about it now.”

“It's smarter to face me than deal with everyone in Queensland. You can trust me to keep our agreement. The rest? Not so much.”

He hesitated, glancing at his surviving men as if trying to take a quick census. “If I accept, I set the terms.”

“I'm listening.”

“If I win, you grant us clemency for past offenses.”

That sounded dangerously reasonable. “And if
I
do?”

“You can kill me, if you promise not to harm my men.”

“Boss, no.”

But Vost held up a hand, eyes steady on hers.

Dammit.
His actions sprang from a desire to protect the soldiers loyal to him. Vost had to know he was in a tenuous, disastrous position, stuck on a station where the natives hated and wanted him dead. Yet he was trying to buy his men a better position with the currency of his own life.

“As long as they're willing to take orders from me, they can fight for Queensland. But the penalty for disloyalty is high here. Infractions start with flogging, continue to castration, and end in death.”

“Iron fist,” one of the mercs muttered.

She ignored him. “Well, Vost? It's a limited-time offer. I hear others approaching.”

“Yes. Bring it, Dresdemona.”

It had been a long time since anyone called her by her full name. Probably the last time she'd heard it, her mother had been aggravated with her about something. Likely, his knowledge was meant to rattle her and put her off her game. But she had been looking forward to this moment since he arrived on station, talking about how he controlled the facility.
Wrong, you bastard. This is
my
house.

“Armor off.”

His men started to protest, but he waved them away, and there was an oddly ritual air as they stripped the plated segments and piled them nearby. He was strong and fit, better built and nourished than most of the men in Perdition.

This won't be easy.

Ordinarily, there would be a bigger audience, Calypso holding court in the circle, but this would have to do. She felt a twinge of guilt over the fact that he was offering his life as a bargaining chip, but it wasn't enough to stop her from raising her chains in challenge. One end wrapped around her wrist with a length hanging loose between her hands, and the other tail sat in her palm, waiting for her to flick it outward. The comforting weight of the blade in her boot reminded her that she could repeat the tactic that took down Grigor, if necessary.

Vost pulled two knives with long, wickedly serrated blades, superior to any shiv crafted in here. By the gleam of the metal, they looked like durasteel.
I'll have to be fast.
She wasn't afraid of pain, and unless he opened a major artery, she should be able to heal any incidental injuries.
Good thing he doesn't know that.
It felt like cheating, but her hidden resilience meant she'd finally get to kill him.

Dred smiled. “Call it, Tam.”

“Before these witnesses, the terms are set and the battle is joined. Begin!”

She lashed out, but he was faster than he looked. Vost ducked, whirling, and came in with his blades. Dred leapt to avoid the slash at her knees. While that strike might not kill her, it would've crippled her. She snapped her teeth at him as she danced back a few steps to give herself more room to work the chains. His mercs called out encouragement, whereas Tam and Katur were silent. Remembering the friends Vost had killed added to her resolve, and she already had strength and speed from Jael. Dred whipped the chain at his head, but somehow, she missed him again. She cocked her head, puzzled, because with any other man, she would've already knocked him down, at least once. He was quicker than he should have been.

“Should I have told you? I'm augmented,” he said, as they circled.

Behind her, Tam drew in a breath, which told Dred that he knew the answer. “What does that mean?”

“Fortified bones, reinforced joints. I've had supplements to my reflexes as well.”

“I didn't even know they were doing that.”

“They'll do anything for sufficient credits,” Tam muttered.

She didn't let the merc disrupt her focus though she gave him credit for trying. “So you'll be a little tougher to kill than anticipated. I'm not afraid of hard work.”

“Not according to your dossier. I've been curious, though. Did they tally up your body count? I've always thought it seemed low.”

She slashed a chain toward him, but he was already sliding to the side, and it slammed into the wall behind him in a cascade of sparks. “Sorry, not telling. I have my secrets.”

If I can't fight him the normal way, then I need to shift my attack strategy.

“You can trust me.”

Dred laughed at that. “The only person on station I trust
less
than you is Mungo.”

“That's the one who eats people?”

“Then you understand your place in the hierarchy.”

“That's harsh. The crazy one with the bone chair doesn't seem as if she could be relied upon in a crisis.”

The conversation made it hard for her to focus on killing, doubtless what he intended. He had been circling, watching her defenses, and soon he'd go on the offense. Since this fight could
not
end in clemency, she had to figure out how to take Vost out.

“He drops his shoulder when he's considering a strike,” Tam said softly.

“Unfair,” Vost chided.

She smirked. “It's not interference. It's an insight.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Vost etched a mocking salute at Tam, and then he slashed toward her, each knife slicing the air until she swore it made a sound.

She whipped her chains around as a defensive measure; it would take someone stronger and faster to get inside her defenses when she was braced for a strike. A lesser opponent would already be bleeding from half a dozen cuts.
If I used blades instead of chains, I don't think I could keep him at bay.
She feinted a blow, and he dodged, allowing her to land the true snap at his ankle. He flinched when metal slammed into bone, but he was tough enough to shake off the pain. The strike left her off-balance, and he slashed a cut down her left arm. Hot blood trickled from the wound, slicking the metal length of the chain.

“That looks painful.”

She snarled a smile. “How's your leg holding up?”

One of the mercs said softly, “They're pretty evenly matched. Should I shoot her?”

Tam leveled a look on them, and even Dred found his expression chilling. “If you break the terms of the truce before the match is concluded, you will find hell to be a comfort after what I do to you.”

“Stand down,” Vost said.

An idea struck Dred, and she changed up her tactics. In a move almost too fast to track, she drew the blade from her boot and whipped it at him. Vost spun to the side, but not quite fast enough; it sliced a path down his side as it went by, and his distraction allowed her to land a hit with the chain. She put her full strength behind it, and something in his chest cracked.
Ribs, most likely.

“Nice,” Vost said, spitting blood. “But how many more knives do you have?”

“I guess you'll find out.”

But the noises she'd heard a long way off—not a bluff, just enhanced senses—were coming closer. Soon, her people surrounded them, and rifles fixed on the three mercs. The rest of Queensland might not understand, but this was a matter of honor. She'd struck a bargain, so this needed to play out without interference. She glanced around for Jael, but he was focused on her bleeding arm, not listening to her words.

“Stop,” she yelled. “Let the fight continue!”

But others were yelling, “Kill the mercs, gut them! Let's finish this!”

Dred tried again. “Queenslanders, this is an official grudge match. Doesn't matter if Calypso's here. The agreement is made, and battle has been joined.”

The shouting increased in intensity, drowning her out. Maddened men shoved toward the mercs, screaming bloody murder, and it was a testament to their courage that they didn't cut and run. Instead, they looked to their commander, asking silently,
Stand or fall back?

A third and final time, Dred tried to leash her people, but they wouldn't listen. In another second, the walls would be painted in blood, and her word would be dust. She made a split-second decision. Her eyes met Vost's.
Run,
she mouthed.

Unable to believe she was doing this, Dred turned and deliberately blocked the path with her body, so the mercs could escape, the only way to keep her promise.

40

Last Resort

For the moment, the battle was over.

Bodies lay all around them, more than Jael could remember killing in one go since he became a merc. Instead of feeling exhilarated or even relieved that they'd won, he wondered if there would be anyone left to clean this mess up once the dying stopped. For a few seconds, he imagined maintenance bots like RC-17 banging repeatedly into decaying corpses and eventually scanning them, then cleaning around them.

Can't decide if that's hilarious or grisly.

Jael dragged in a deep breath. It had been a long time since he was simply . . . tired. In a way, it was a welcome shame. His designer body had limits now, boundaries that could be crossed. If pushed hard enough, he imagined he could even collapse from exhaustion.

“What're you smirking at?” Martine asked.

No percentage in telling the truth; it didn't do to show weakness even to your allies. So he shared his thought about the cleaning droids. When he finished, both Martine and Calypso were shaking their heads.

“You are not right,” the smaller woman said.

“You must admit, it's quite a picture.” Calypso was grinning. Apparently, she had a bit of a taste for the macabre.

“If they succeed in wiping us out,” Martine's voice chilled. “Then those assholes can tidy up this mess.”

Calypso offered, “The rodents would eat the corpses down to bones by the time the new owners arrive.”

“Cheerful notion.” Jael shook his head as he cleaned his weapons.

Jael was about to suggest they move on when the bot they'd just been talking about rounded the corner toward them, all lights flashing in a blinding pattern, but it wasn't playing the standard unauthorized personnel warning that Ike had programmed. The thing was beeping in sequence, but the lights and sounds made no sense to Jael. It circled his feet urgently, and he glanced at the two women.

“Any clue what this thing wants?”

She shook her head, kneeling to look at the unit. “No idea. I haven't seen it in days, actually. Not since Ike died.”

All the lights on the RC unit turned green at the same time. “Pass phrase recognized, playback authorized.”

A chill ran down Jael's spine as Ike's voice came out of the droid. “If you're hearing this, I'm dead. Sorry about that. Wills told me a while back that I didn't have long. In this place, I'm guessing I didn't die of old age. Whatever got me, I hope it was quick.”

“I'm sorry,” Jael said quietly.

The message continued, oblivious to the living. “You must be wondering what's going on with 17 here. I recorded this and programmed him to locate you and play it if I didn't tune him up on schedule.”

“You clever bastard,” Calypso said.

“Don't know what's going on, but I have some secret stashes that might be useful. I've been sitting on them, but now that I'm gone, there's no point in hiding them any longer. You know what they say, you can't take it with you. If you follow the RC unit, he'll take you to where I've hidden some goodies. So I guess that's it. Thanks for being good to an old man, and . . . I'll see you around.”

“Message complete,” the RC unit added. “Play again?”

“Holy shit. This is like finding buried treasure. What do you think it is? Parts? Food? Weapons?” Considering the state Queensland was in, Martine seemed pretty damn excited.

Calypso lifted a palm. “Hold up. I can't believe
I'm
saying this, but we can't tear off and leave Dred to fight these assholes alone. Once the blood dries up, there will be time to see what Ike left us.”

Jael said nothing at all. This felt like hope from beyond the grave, a quiet promise that things were never as bad as they seemed.

*   *   *

DRED
let
Vost get away.
The thought echoed like thunder in Tam's head. He didn't understand why, but he suspected it had to do with the unfinished grudge match.
This is why we need the formality of the circle.
If the others had come upon the fight within the usual arena, they would've known not to interfere. But regardless of Dred's honor, he needed to know where the mercs were holed up.
I'm not much of a spymaster without proper intel.

“I'll track them,” he said to Dred.

Other Queenslanders got in his way, pushing and shoving, as they tried to chase the mercs. But Tam slid past them.
One of the benefits to being small.
A few aliens moved as if to accompany him, but Katur shouted, “Stay! Follow Keelah's commands. I'll be back soon.”

With each passing second, Vost got farther away. “You don't have to—”

“I disagree.”

“Find out where he's hiding. This isn't over between us.” Dred gave clearance for the mission, then she beckoned the rest of the Queenslanders. “Looks like we won. And you thought it couldn't be done! Shall we take the fight to Mungo?”

Since he and Silence had been mounting mobile strikes on Queensland for days, it was time.
She has this in hand.
Soon, they'd control the whole facility.

Until the next squad arrives.

But impossible things were never achieved by fixating on their insurmountable nature. Tam didn't try to change Katur's mind. He could've explained that this wasn't an assassination; silent executions were best left to Silence and her cadre. No, Tam excelled at gathering information and deciding the best way to make use of it, and he hadn't made up his mind about Vost. Doubtless, Katur felt differently after the massacre in the Warren.

With the other male lending his expertise, he tracked Vost. The walls were dirtier than usual here; they were encrusted with grime after turns of neglect. Tam knew all of the best places to hide on the station. He was an expert at scouting out hidey-holes and secret spots that offered shelter in an emergency. Currently, there were four that even Martine didn't know about.

And Vost found one.

With injuries like Vost had sustained, the merc couldn't go far. He must be in dire straits, especially since he'd harmed enough of Mungo's and Silence's people that they would be hunting him as well. It had to gall the mercenary commander to realize that his life might end in such a way. Men like him expected good and honorable deaths, not to be whittled down by convicts or to starve like rodents in a rotten wall.

“What do you plan to do with our enemy, once we find him?”

But that question would never be answered. Blood burbled from Katur's mouth, and when his body fell, it revealed the Speaker's crouched form. His blade was stained red and his eyes were bright with malice. He wasn't a large man, but he was tall, giving him better reach, though Tam had fought better men and lived. He didn't waste breath with accusations, and he tried to strangle the throb of rage deep inside him. A cool head prevailed in a fight. Yet he was already imagining the conversation with Keelah, a distraction he could ill afford.

“This has been a long time coming,” the Speaker said with icy calm. “I fight for the Handmaiden.
You
spy for your queen.” Tam didn't realize he'd reacted until the Speaker went on, “We know that you watch us from the shadows. But it didn't save your friend.”

This is where I'm supposed to be baited into a poorly considered lunge.

Instead, he circled, observing the way the Speaker moved. There was a reason why this man had risen through the ranks to speak for Silence instead of dying in her infernal web like the rest of her victims. The Speaker moved with serpentine speed, but his eyes flicked just before he struck. Tam banked everything on his reflexes and spun to the side just as the knife would've skewered him through the heart. The forward momentum pulled the Speaker off-balance, and Tam took full advantage. He came in with a strike from behind, just as the bastard had done to Katur. His blade struck true, a clean kidney shot. The assassin actually looked surprised as he fell, right next to the alien he had murdered.

The Speaker's chest rose and fell for a few seconds. Tam expected a moment of truth or clarity, but instead of smiling as some people did in death, the man's features tightened into pure horror, as if what he glimpsed waiting for him was terrible beyond belief.
If there's any justice, that's true.

“Mary curse it.” Tam clenched a fist, watching as the Speaker died.

The trail to Vost was cold now. And he had to return to carry the grim news.

*   *   *

LOST
him.

It was a stroke of luck that the two trackers had been attacked. Without that break, Vost didn't think he would've escaped. His wounds throbbed, making each breath more difficult than the last. Nausea rose in the form of bile, but he held it together until he made it to where he and his two surviving men had been holing up. Vost was also well aware that he wouldn't have made it back without Redmond and Duran supporting him on either side.

“She's tough as hell,” Redmond said conversationally.

Duran grunted in acknowledgment. “I didn't expect her to last as long as she did. But I really don't understand why we didn't just kill them all.”

“Because we might need them down the line. When our clips run out, things will look a lot worse then. We'll be better off if we can make allies out of the least crazy ones.” It went without saying that he couldn't consider teaming up with cannibals or the death-heads. Sometimes the choice came down to the lesser of all evils.

And that's the one they call the Dread Queen.

This was more of a rats' nest than a command post, but the space was too small for the enemy to lay traps. It would also limit the firepower they could bring to bear in here. They had little gear left anyway; the convicts had been stealing and breaking in since their unit arrived on station. That was more initiative than the suit had said they would possess. Vost choked a laugh at the memory of that interview; it seemed so long ago now.

As they settled, Redmond powered up the medibot, one of the few resources that remained to them. The thing went to work on his injuries, but the pain sent a raw shudder through him. He closed his eyes, weary to his soul.

“Well, damn,” Duran muttered. “So what's our next move?”

He was lucky they weren't ready to kill him in his sleep. Any two other men in the unit would've refused to follow his lead once the rest of the squad got blown to shit.
Through their own stupidity.

Reluctantly, Vost admitted, “The situation is this: We've whittled down their numbers, but the loss of the transport hurt us. As of now, we have no chance of completing the original assignment. Which means the rules have to change.”

“Level with me. Are we dying in here?”

“Not if we're smart. And careful.”

“You've been both so far, but we're still in this fucking mess,” Duran muttered.

Vost wished the man didn't have a point, but he'd done everything he could to succeed in this hellish place. The usual tactics had failed. And it would require all of his ingenuity to get out alive, now that he'd accepted the original mission parameters were impossible, regardless of the payday.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “I wish I could report better odds.”

Duran shrugged. “Hell, if we'd turned and gone with Casto, we'd be in chunks. At least with you, we're still breathing.”

Redmond nodded. “This job rang all my alarm bells, but I took it anyway. I should've known better.”

“Me too,” Vost admitted.

“Greed got the better of us. Move on.” Duran looked like he wanted to pace, but the crazy, silent woman had trained killers crawling all over the station in search of them.

“I have a plan,” he told his men. “From what I've seen, the reason these Queenslanders have lasted this long is because their leadership isn't psychotic. And she proved it when she was willing to fight to save two of her own.”