Havoc (32 page)

“I don't think Tam and crew have noticed. But you can't fool me.”

“I'm going through the motions,” she said at length. “Saying the right words. Making the moves that might keep us alive, but I'm
so
fragging tired.”

Her words struck him like a barrage of rifle shots, burning through his emotional shields. Jael felt her exhaustion as if it radiated from his own body. That was how deep she'd burrowed inside him. The emotion resonated, kindling an ache as though she tapped a thousand crystals, all singing the same mournful tune. Distance showed in the slope of her cheek, the delicate shadow of her lashes. Such fine details to notice; he cataloged such minutiae about everyone, every day, and it only mattered when it was Dred.

“It's bullshit how much weight you carry, love.” His voice contained more gravel than he'd expected, and he cleared his throat.

She shrugged. “I'll do what I must. And it helps to have you here. I can't talk like this with anyone else.”

“I'd want to kill him if you did.”

“That's us, ever spinning through a cycle of love and death.” Her mordant expression yielded to surprise when Jael kissed her. “What was that for?”

“You'll figure it out. Let's catch up with the others.”

45

Sympathy for the Devil

There are so few of us left.

Eight hours later, Dred glanced around at the smoldering wreckage left over from the riots, char marks on floor and walls. The survivors were piling corpses to be sent down the chute with numb efficiency, supervised by Martine and Calypso, who came out of the last battle with a gash in her side, but she was strong, and it should heal.

Dred and Jael had parted ways to oversee repairs, partly because they needed him elsewhere and partly because she couldn't lean on him too much. The Queenslanders left needed her to be strong. At last count, Mungo's men had been exterminated completely; she had a less-comprehensive idea of how many of Silence's assassins had survived the slaughter. That would probably come back to haunt them, but she lacked the energy to care at the moment.

Jael found her a few minutes later as she went to work with the rest of the cleaning crew. She hadn't slept in days, and she wouldn't until Queensland was back in order. A new set of mercs might arrive anytime, and she knew they didn't have the manpower to repeat this defense of the station.
Next time, they wipe us out.
That awareness rendered the victory bittersweet. He pulled her away from the others and drew her to him. The kindness of the gesture almost brought her to her knees. People didn't console the Dread Queen.

Except him.

“We're doomed,” she said softly. “And now we're just marking time.”

“This thinned the herd, right enough.”

Resting against his chest, she couldn't see his face. “I can't help but wonder what's the point. I can put everything back together, but no more supplies are coming. When the mercs don't return and report the place clear, they'll hire more and send them in.”

“Then we need to make sure we're not here when they arrive.”

“This again,” she said with a growl of impatience. “You know, at this point, I'm ready to call your optimism insanity. Tam blew the transport, remember? To kill a bunch of mercs. And the docking bay is now sealed off from the rest of the station.”

“We're actually better off than we were, love.”

She frowned at him. “What are you
talking
about? Look at this place.”

“It's a wreck, yeah, but the mercs cleared out most of our enemies. Apart from Silence's crew, everything here belongs to us now. It will be easier for us to stockpile resources. The powers that be are sure that they removed
everything
we could use to escape, yeah? But they couldn't have foreseen we'd end up with the run of the place like this.”

To Dred, it sounded like clutching at straws. “That's true, but—”

“But nothing. Tam and I will scour all decks from top to bottom. If there's anything we can use to get some of the old machinery spaceworthy, we'll find it.”

“You're seriously proposing to build a ship from scrap parts. Before they send a second team.”

“Do you have a better idea? I suppose we
could
retire to your quarters and shag until they come for us. I can think of worse ways to go. But personally, I think that'd be a shocking waste of our potential.”

Before she could reply, Martine strode up. “The bodies are loaded and ready. Did you want to say a few words? Just so the men feel better about the mass dumping.”

Dred wasn't in the mood to be inspiring, but she knew the other woman was right. She told Jael with her eyes that the discussion wasn't over, then moved to the center of the common room and vaulted up on top of the throne Artan had built. Even more than usual, it seemed like a ridiculous affectation, for she was so obviously the empress of nothing.

Just a few tired convicts, beyond any real hope.

“Our people fought bravely,” she said. “The outside world wouldn't expect it because they threw us away. They decided we were too broken for fixing, but to me, they were all warriors defending their homes. Going into this fight, I would've said there was no way we could win. The mercs had all of the advantages. But we did what we do best, what we
always
do when the odds are stacked against us. We put our shoulders in and pushed.”

“Damn right,” someone shouted.

“Who are we?” she asked softly.

“Queensland!”

“What's stopping us?”

“Nothing!”

“I commend these warriors to the next world, where I hope there's plenty of liquor and laughter to keep them out of trouble.”

A cheer rose from the assembled men, and she hopped down from the throne to accompany Martine and Jael, who were guiding the hover dolly, groaning beneath the weight of their dead. Cook was on that pile, a man she'd never guessed would turn, but the promise of freedom had been too much for him. She wished she could've explained to him that even if he
had
been among the last five prisoners standing, the mercs didn't intend to honor the deal they'd made. It was a ploy, nothing more, a carrot offered to stupid brutes.

Silently, the three of them unloaded the dead until she was sweaty, and her back was sore. Queensland had once had a couple of hundred citizens; now they were down to fewer than fifty. The station seemed to echo with silence, each deck deserted, full of traps laid by men who had died before their cunning could be fully realized. That would make exploration tricky, but she had faith in Tam's and Jael's ability to circumvent static defenses. She mustered less confidence in the idea they could cobble together a ship fast enough to escape the next death squad. Even though the mercs had failed in their mission, there were so few prisoners left that it could almost be counted a win.

“That's the last of them,” Martine said.

Dred nodded her thanks. “You've earned a break. Get some rest . . . or whatever.”

“If I was smart, I'd snatch some bunk time, but who the hell's a genius up in here? I think I'll get drunk instead.” Martine flashed a roguish smile, laced with faint menace by the glimpse of her pointed teeth.

“Have at it,” Jael said, watching the other woman go. Then he turned to Dred, but whatever he might've said was forestalled by footsteps,
not
coming from the heart of Queensland but from the corridors leading from other areas of the station. Jael stepped in front of Dred, a move she would've protested if she wasn't already watching the corner with chains in her hands. When the merc commander eased into view, helmet off, she pushed out a shocked breath. For once, his men weren't with him.

He left them behind in case things went bad.
More proof he was a good commander who cared about those who served under him. And it made him much harder to dismiss.

“Come for a quick death?” Jael asked politely.

Vost shook his head. “I came to make a deal.”

Dred laughed. “What could you possibly offer that we'd want, after what you tried to do here?”

“Transport codes.”

She froze, exchanging a look with Jael, whose infinitesimal nod seemed to indicate he thought she should hear more. “What're you talking about?”

“The docking bay they use for supplies isn't the only one on this station. You haven't been able to get to any of them because of the blast doors and force fields. But I hacked the mainframe. It's glitched as hell, and it doesn't work all across the station, like it's supposed to, but I checked. I can turn off the automated defenses and unseal the secondary docking area. If we come to an agreement, and you ensure I get there safely, we can leave here together.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Then look at this.” Moving slowly, he produced a drone cam and powered it on.

She peered at the grainy image on the tiny display. Though the footage was shaky, it was clear the little spy bot had penetrated a part of the station no convict had ever reached; the supplies and parts shown in a casual sweep of the docking bay made that obvious. The drone flew all around the room, peering into all corners; and then she saw the faded warning.
DOCKING BAY 4: TAKE
ALL PRECAUTIONS IN O
PENING HANGAR DOORS.
They still needed a ship, but if Tam and Jael could cobble something together, as he seemed to think, then Vost held their exit pass.

If
I believe he can get us in there.

“So your drone slipped in through some tiny air vents,” Jael said. “That doesn't prove anything.”

Dred considered the odds that Vost had actually hacked the mainframe. If that was possible, Tam would've figured out a way. But she wasn't sure because she recalled that odd Monsanto announcement they'd never heard before.

But she couldn't seem to yield too quickly. “I think you're bluffing. All transport codes were wiped before they sent the first prisoners to Perdition.”

“To a cursory inspection, yes. But there are always fragmented data packets, hidden caches of information, backups hidden on remote servers. They didn't hire the best to scrub the system.” Vost met her eyes, his gaze a pale and icy green. “Can you afford to assume that I'm lying? From what I've seen, you can't withstand another assault, and it's not like you can bolster your numbers.”

That's true, damn him. This is what Tam guessed before—why he wanted to establish some favor with me though he couldn't resist stirring the pot when things were at their worst.
With a scowl, she remembered that announcement during the riots. It was no telling how many more of her men had died because of Vost dangling that carrot once again.

But he needed that to happen. He needed me desperate enough to make a deal.

Jael leaned in to whisper, “He knows he can't hide indefinitely—Silence's people or ours will find him before long. He's also aware that he'll likely be killed without our protection before he finds a way off station. He needs us. His pulse tells me he's relatively calm, and I don't smell the stink of lies on him.”

Without explaining what she meant to do, Dred closed her eyes. The merc commander's emotional state opened up to her in waves of color, and his hues were primarily cool blue with ripples of yellow.
He's worried about something.
There was no indication of treachery or a yen toward psychotic violence.
This isn't a man I'd have hunted before.
His worry deepened to anxiety while he watched her, ostensibly “meditating” on her decision like a crazy person.
He must be wondering if I'm really his best bet.

News flash, Commander. I'm your only hope. Just like you're mine.

Dred's lashes flickered up, showing her an exhausted man who was on the verge of begging. That surprised her as few things could have. Everything she knew about Vost suggested he was a proud, capable man, nothing of cowardice in his makeup.

“You've some balls, coming to make me an offer like this,” she said then.

Vost raised a brow. “Only a madman refuses to bargain when it benefits him.”

“Give me one good reason why I should trust you.” She exhaled slowly, knowing the question revealed the fact that she was willing to hear him out.

Jael folded his arms expectantly. Apparently, he, too, wanted to hear this answer.

He has to know this alliance is the best shot for both of us, but I can't give in too easy, or he won't trust me. He'll be watching for a blade in the back.

Shit, he probably will anyway.

“There's nothing I can say that'll persuade you any faster than this. So . . .”

The merc surprised her by digging into his gear belt and producing a small holo. The image revealed a small boy, thin and sickly pale, with dark hair and green eyes. He had the look of a chronic invalid. Since she hadn't been around kids much, she didn't know how old he was, but the entire holo was just a few seconds—the boy leaning forward out of frame as if to hug someone. Again and again it ran, until she glanced up in puzzlement.

“Who's that?”

“My son. Who will die if I don't come back to him.”