Condemned (Death Planet Book 1) (8 page)

A drone buzzed past, recording them. Would his comrades be watching? No, they'd never get access to the channel. Erica might, and see him struggle to survive. Would she be afraid for him, and hope he found a decent place to live? Or laugh at him, for being Condemned when he tried to impress her?

He waved at the drone's cameras, just in case. “Hello Erica.”

Guy just shook his head.

“Why did you save me?” Daniel said. Why would anyone, if he’d just be more competition for food and women?

“I need help on a job. You seem like a bright kid.”

That didn't sound good. “What kind of a job?”

Guy laughed. “Better job than being a butt-whore. And one that needs brains more than muscles, or I wouldn’t have picked you. That’s about all I can say right now.”

“Why me?”

Guy shrugged. “Maybe I’m just trying to do some good in my life. If someone had helped me when I was a newbie, I might not have ended up in the damn mines.”

Did he mean it? He could have killed Daniel a dozen times before now, if he wanted to. Or kept him tied up, and sold him to slavers. Or eaten him.

Besides, what other choice did he have?

“I guess I’m in.”

Something thumped in the distance. Was that someone shouting, or was he just imagining it? Daniel turned, and stared into the darkness. Something was coming toward them along the track. Something big and fast, surrounded by a swarm of drones.

“Down,” Guy yelled.

Daniel threw himself into the mud. Wood clattered on rocks, and he looked up. A cart approached, a bear in the driver’s seat, a man hanging on beside it, his teeth digging into the bear’s arm. The girl with red and blue hair swung from side to side in a cage in the back of the cart as it bounced along the track. One hand clung to the bars, the other pointed a revolver between them. It boomed as she fired, and the muzzle flash briefly illuminated the track. Then the cart raced past, and rattled away from them, dragging a man behind it, his foot caught in a leather strap dangling from the cage.

Guy stood as the cart disappeared into the darkness, and the noise faded. He brushed the dirt from his leather pants.

“Don’t see that every day.”

“L
et me out,” the girl yelled from the cage, and rattled the door. She grabbed the locking bar and shook it, but it still wouldn’t move. She settled for kicking the door.

“Wait a moment,” Brunhilde said. They’d crossed the bridge half an hour ago, and now rolled slowly along the track on the far side of the river. The girl had been complaining most of the time, at least since she stopped screaming when the hauler grew too tired to keep running. The sky beyond the woods was turning red with the first hints of sunrise. One of the moons was sinking toward the sea. How many did it have?

The hauler huffed and puffed in front of her, then let out a loud fart. The smell oozed into Brunhilde's nose, overwhelming the stench of river mud and wet fur. That was as good a reason as any to pull off the track for a moment. She hauled on the reins until the hauler dragged the cart onto the grass, then pulled back hard until it stopped. It snorted loudly, then relaxed as she loosened her grip. It lowered its head and chewed on the plants as she climbed down from the cart.

Dumb creature. When she was a little girl, she’d wanted a pony. She never got one, only the commissars' kids did, but she met a few, and they were smarter than these things. Didn’t have as many legs, either. With eight of them, how did it manage to walk without one getting in the way of another all the time?

Joseph’s body lay beside her on the bench. Blood and brains were smeared around him where she’d had to smash his skull on the seat to stop him biting her. The bites on her arm had almost stopped bleeding, but blood still matted the fur around them.

She’d have thrown him out, but she did need some clothes. She pulled the leather jerkin from his body, and wiped off as much blood and goo as she could on his back. Her arms were almost as wide as his chest, and the pants he wore were barely large enough to work as gloves. She settled for tying the jerkin around her waist as a loincloth. That would have to do for now.

She climbed over the back of the seat, and around to the side of the cage, keeping an eye on the girl. Pretty face, big tits that didn’t flop down when she was naked, and a round ass. She must have had good connections to get a lot of body mods back home. Probably wasn’t a killer, at least, though she’d made a good job of that guard. She still held the gun in her hand, but wasn’t pointing it toward anything.

“Hurry up, please, comrade,” the girl said. Polite, too.

Brunhilde climbed into the back of the cart, and pulled the bar away from the door. It stuck, and she pulled harder. Wood creaked and cracked, then the bar came free. She tossed it over the side of the cart, and pulled the door open.

The girl stepped out, keeping her finger on the trigger of the revolver. Her breasts wobbled as she moved, but didn’t swing and slap like Brunhilde’s did. Definitely body mods. Of course, she should have fixed her height at the same time. Her shoulders were barely above Brunhilde's waist.

“Thank you,” she said. “I hate to think what I'd be doing if you hadn't rescued me from those shitheads.”

“Girl, I wasn't rescuing you. I just needed a ride.”

“But you did it anyway.”

“Don't mean nothing.”

“It's so nice to have a friend in this awful place, isn't it?”

“Don't go getting any ideas. I saw that coffin tattoo on your ass. Back home, I'd have killed any
Undertakers
who came onto my turf.”

“But here, you didn't.”

“I've got bigger assholes than you to worry about here.”

“Us girls need to stick together.”

She had a point. The planet was full of people who wanted to kill them, or worse, and she could do with all the real friends she could get. But could she trust this one? Hiding behind Brunhilde’s muscles would certainly help Pretty Face here, but what would she gain? The girl had a gun, and could use it, even if she didn’t hit much. Not much else going for her.

“So what are you here for?”

“The
Undertakers
had me banging the Chief Commissar of Public Safety in New Beirut. I could twist him around his little dick when something needed to be forgotten about.”

“Didn't realize fucking was a capital crime.”

“His other girls found out.”

“Ah.”

“I don't think I need to ask why you're here.”

“I only kill assholes. They all deserved it.”

“And people who annoy you?”

“Same thing. Some people just need killing.” Brunhilde held out a paw, claws retracted. “Brunhilde. I’m not saying anything about friends, but maybe we could hang out together until we figure out what the hell is going on here.”

The girl grabbed one of Brunhilde's fingers in her small hand, and shook it. “I'm Princess.”

“You might want to get a new name. Something that will help scare these assholes away.”

“I was Princess Melony when I was stripping.” She half-grinned, and wiggled her chest from side to side so everything shook. “You know, melons.”

Of course. That was where she'd seen the girl before. But her hair was blonde, back then.

“That's a porn name, really, isn't it?”

The girl looked away, and frowned.

“I saw the one with...” Brunhilde began.

“Yeah, I guess everyone's seen that. Never should have done it, but the
Undertakers
needed to make some eCreds fast, and I wanted to get in with the gang.”

“That was a great recording. Very... unusual. You're lucky most of the men were sent here too early to have seen it.”

Princess sighed. “The usual stuff is OK for the proles, but commissars expect something special, when they can just watch the
Punishment Channel
all day. You wouldn't believe some of the recordings they showed me.”

“I couldn't believe you got those things inside you.”

“I'm tougher than I look.”

“But it's still not really a good name, is it?”

“I like it.”

“Well, good luck.”

“I knew I had to end up here one day.” Princess waved the revolver in the air. “I've got a gun. Now I just need to find the other
Undertakers
on Hades, if there are any. And some clothes.”

Brunhilde grabbed Joseph's legs, and pulled them up over the back of the seat. “Take this guy's pants. There was another asshole round the back of the cart, last I saw. You can have whatever he was wearing.”

She pulled off Joseph's boots, then his pants. Then tossed the body over the side of the cart, into the bushes alongside. They crunched as it landed on top of them, and the body collapsed into a bloody mess. As she tossed the boots and pants toward Princess, a rat scuttled between the bushes, and sniffed around Joseph's smashed head.

Princess looked up over the back of the cart. “He's gone.”

“What do you mean, he's gone?”

Princess held up a frayed leather cord. “That's all that's left.”

“We've been dragging him for over an hour. Probably just wore through the cord. I'm not going back to look for him.”

Princess grabbed the pants, and pulled them on. “Not much point, if that's what it did to the cord. Wouldn't be much left of his clothes, either.” She pulled the boots on. “So, now what?”

Brunhilde looked along the river. “I hadn't really thought that far.” She pointed toward the smoke rising into the sky. It was darker and thicker now they were a few klicks closer. “Where there's smoke, there's someone burning things down. Let's take a look.”

D
aniel trudged toward the bridge behind Guy. His feet hurt all over in the ill-fitting boots. If he walked much further in them, would he ever be able to walk again? Maybe they’d stretch.

The sun was barely above the horizon, which just reminded him of how much he needed to sleep. Despite the months of suspension in the pod, his body didn’t feel rested, and they’d been walking all night. If only he could go back to it, and take a nice nap in that comfortable seat...

“The sun looks funny,” he said.

“Look hard, and it’s two stars. They’re so close together you can’t see them easily, but you notice when the bright one goes behind the other. Better be wrapped up warm for a few days, when that happens.”

“How much further?”

“Few klicks, once we’re over the bridge. Maybe two hours if we walk fast, three or four if you keep stopping for breaks.”

The bridge was just a row of thick, hacked-up logs, strapped together with leather cords. More logs stood vertically in the water to support them, covered with weeds at water level. The river rushed past below them, heading for the sea, and breaking into white plumes as it crashed into rocks in the riverbed. Daniel had always meant to find time to learn to swim, but never had. If he fell in, his time on Hades could be over.

“Is this safe?”

“Relax. They drive carts and haulers over this thing all day long. It’s not going to fall apart under our weight.”

The bridge creaked when Guy stepped onto it, as the straps took the strain of his extra weight. But it continued standing as he took a few steps toward the far side. Daniel gently put one foot on the log. It was wet and muddy, and his boot slid as he put his weight on it.

And there were no hand rails.

What about Health and Safety? Who built this thing?

“Can’t I stay on this side?”

“If you’d rather the slavers get you.”

Better dead than a slave. If he kept telling himself that, he might really believe it. He held out his arms for balance as he put his other foot on the logs, then took slow, careful steps as he tried to ignore the creaking from the straps and wood. Just take it one step at a time, and don’t look down into the water. You’ll be over before you know it.

He glanced at Guy. He was almost at the far side, strolling along with his hands on the waistband of his pants, whistling. It couldn’t be that hard, if he could walk across like that.

Then again, he had boots that fit his feet, and feet which weren’t bruised and blistered. Daniel took another step, then another, pausing between them. At this rate, he should be across by sunset. If he was lucky.

Something thumped against the supports as it passed under the bridge. Daniel glanced over the edge. A body floated face down in the river, the skin turning grey where the remains of its flesh hadn’t been torn apart. Man or woman? Impossible to tell, when so much had been eaten down to the bone.

“Hey,” Guy yelled. “Hurry up and get over here.”

He pointed down-river. A boat approached, long and low, with half a dozen oars on each side and a pile of crates between them. Men sat on each side, the chains on their wrists rattling as they pulled hard on the oars. Another stood over them with a whip. He cracked the whip one side or the other, making the men row faster to turn the boat and avoid the rocks.

Guy ran ahead along the riverbank, waving his arms at the boat. “Can you give us a ride to Kingston?” he yelled.

Two leather-clad men crouched in the bow, and aimed crossbows in Guy’s direction. Another raised his bow toward Daniel, who smiled and waved, then hurried across the bridge as fast as he could. Falling into the river would probably hurt less than an arrow in his guts.

A fourth man, wearing a metal breastplate and helmet, stood between the others. “And why would I do that?”

“I’ve got shinies.”

“So have I. How do I know you’re not just trying to get us to stop so you and your pirate friends can rob us?”

Guy nodded toward Daniel. “Does he look like a pirate?”

Daniel yelled as his boot slipped again, and pain shot through his thigh as his knee smacked down on the wood. He grabbed it, open-mouthed and gasping. That didn't help much.

“Not a very good one,” the man shouted. “But they have to start somewhere.” He muttered to the man with the whip, and pointed toward the shore. The whip cracked on the shoulders of the men on the left of the boat, and it turned slowly toward the riverbank, a short distance from where Guy stood.

“Hey, boy,” the armoured man yelled. “Save us all a lot of time, and just jump.”