Havoc (26 page)

The other man snorted. “Like that'll ever happen.”

Duran glanced up from taking inventory of what was left. “By my count, we've got two weeks at most. We need an alternate food source.”

“There's a Kitchen-mate in one of the abandoned zones,” Vost said. “It might still be functioning. I'll take a run to see once the others get back.”

“Do we even want to think about what organic might be powering it?” Duran asked.

Redmond made a gagging sound. “Probably not. This is a crap gig. I don't think I've been so skeeved since we did that village on Tarnus.”

That wasn't one of his brighter memories, but being a soldier of fortune didn't come with a guarantee that all the jobs would be good for the soul, and he had bills to pay. The thought sent a pang of worry through him so hard that his hands actually curled into fists in reaction.
Can't think about him. Eyes on the prize. It's not going as fast as expected, granted, but we're making headway.

With a sigh, he sent his last drone cam on patrol with orders to track Casto. It was just good strategy to make sure the patrol didn't encounter more resistance than it could handle. Worst-case scenario, Vost might not be able to do much about it, but a commander should have complete situational awareness. As the cam skimmed through the halls, he saw about what he expected, pockets of prisoners skulking about, occasional combat between warring factions.
Shit, if we wait a week, they'll whittle each other down even more for those “pardons.”
He stifled a laugh.

Then he froze in his chair. “Redmond, come look at this and tell me what you see.”

The soldier ambled over to his shoulder. “Looks like Casto's heading for the transport bay, not the mooks.”

He shot to his feet, pure rage swamping. “That bastard's leaving us behind.”

They had too much of a head start for Vost to catch up, so he could only watch, jaw tight, as his lieutenant powered down the force field. The mutinous fuck actually waved at the drone cam, likely knowing his commander could do fuck-all to stop this. He'd set his plans too well. Vost wheeled and slammed his armored fist through a broken vid screen.

The rest of the men boarded the ship like hell was at their heels.

Ten seconds later, the drone cam went off-line in a fizz of static as an explosion rocked the whole station. Sirens blared like it was Armageddon, a constant shriek of alarm.

“What just happened?” Duran asked. “What the
fuck
just happened?”

“Payback.” Shaken, Vost scrubbed a hand over his face; and then, despite himself, he began to laugh.

36

Rats in the Walls

“Alert, the facility may be under attack. All executive personnel please proceed to shuttle pods on alpha deck. There is a hull breach in the transport area. All support systems are compromised. Main power is off-line, backup engaged. Bulkheads are now sealing decks eight through ten. Emergency repairs are required.” The station VI voice sounded eerily calm. “Maintenance supervisor, please dispatch immediate assistance.”

Jael had always found virtual intelligences creepy, which was probably an unfair bias, given his own origins. But with biological life-forms, there was always a common imperative and some kind of emotional response. The Perdition VI didn't care if the whole station imploded, taking her and everyone else with it.

“Holy shit.” Martine paused with her spoon in midair, aiming a shocked look at Tam.

“Why would the mercs try to leave?” Dred asked.

Jael shrugged. “You got me. Maybe the transport overloaded on its own?”

“Not unless someone powered it up.”

Calypso was grinning. “Wonder how many of the assholes we took out.”

Tam pushed to his feet. “Impossible to say, but I can check the command outpost, see how many men are in there.”

Dred seemed to consider. “Might not provide a definitive answer—there could be some on patrol—but find out what you can. Carefully.”

The alarm went on for hours before the VI must've figured out that nobody from maintenance was coming. Then she made a new announcement. “Decks eight through ten permanently compromised. Access revoked to all personnel. Have a nice day.”

“That happened sooner than I expected,” Jael said.

He was alone with Dred, relatively speaking. They were sitting in the common room, keeping an eye on the men, who were agitated by the station damage. According to Tam, the average Queenslander wouldn't understand the reason they'd blown the transport; most of them would see it as a wasted opportunity, like it really
was
that easy to steal a ship and take off. Then again, most of them were dumb as broken data readers. Jael agreed with the necessity of keeping the explanation for the explosion under wraps. The last thing they needed was a rebellion from men who believed their leaders had trapped them on station out of a misguided thirst for vengeance.

Dred nodded. “I thought we'd all be dead when they left.”

A Queenslander whose name Jael couldn't recall approached the table. “My queen, do you know what the mercs are doing? Why they blew up part of the station?”

Jael admired her poker face as she replied, “Maybe they were trying to get into a restricted area and set off the top-tier defenses.”

That was bullshit, but the convict didn't know that. “Then we need to be careful on salvage ops, huh?”

“I'd say so,” Jael put in.

The man bobbed his head in a sort of bow, then hurried back to his table, likely to spread the news. Jael watched as he whispered, and other men glanced their way, looking simultaneously relieved and worried. Within a few minutes, the same prisoner was moving among other groups, warning them about the fact that Perdition could blow up if you tinkered with the wrong wire.

Dred sighed. “They'll be scared to leave Queensland at this rate.”

“Better than the alternative.” Which was rioting and death. “And at this point, we've lifted just about everything we can use.”

“That's true.” Her tone was bleak.

“We're in a better position than we have been for a while. So what's put that look on your face?” Jael couldn't believe he was
asking
that, inviting confidences.

Sucker.

“I don't want to think about the future.” By her tone, she didn't think they had one.

And Jael had to admit, sometimes it was tough to imagine a way out of here. At the moment, his nebulous escape plan hadn't coalesced; more immediate problems kept cropping up, but hope flickered inside him, a tiny flame that couldn't be extinguished. Jael knew what true darkness of the soul felt like. He'd fallen into that abyss in a small cave on Ithiss-Tor, deep within the ground.

When they pulled me out of that hole to extradite me, I barely remembered my name.

“What then?”

“I'm calling in the mark I mentioned before. Quid pro quo, Jael. Tell me something . . . not awful.”

Horror stories he had aplenty, tales of vice, betrayal, and bodily harm. Jael racked his brain for a thing of beauty, but most of what he had, that he cherished, had come from her.
That's probably not what she's looking for, though.
He imagined that she'd punch him the head if he said it out loud.
And I'd have it coming.

“When I first broke out of the lab,” he said slowly, “I had never seen direct sunlight before. My education wasn't all that impressive, either.”

“So you thought it was a fire god?” She was smiling, teasing him.

Who the frag ever teased me?
He wanted to hug her for it. The feeling that rose up in him when he looked at her face made him feel like he was choking. Only not in a bad way.
I've finally lost what little mind I have left.

“No, queenie, I knew about the sun. In theory. But I'd never seen it. I should've been running, getting as far away from the facility as possible, but instead I climbed to the highest hill I could find to get a better look at it. And as I reached the summit, I saw my first sunset.”

Jael still remembered that moment of breathless surprise when the sky melted into a sea of colors: pink, orange, yellow, and clouds streaked through with light. Dred seemed to be riveted by his expression, and he tipped his head back, fighting the urge to run. There was physical nakedness, but this was . . . something else entirely.

“And it was beautiful?”

“Spectacular. But that's not the point. In that moment, I realized I was free—that nobody could do anything to me without my permission. No more drugs, no more needles, no more tests. After that, sunsets represented freedom to me, and I hate being indoors. It's part of why I became a merc though it wasn't like I had many other options.”

“So it's worse for you, being here.”

“I haven't seen the sun in almost fifty turns. I don't know if it was calculated or coincidence, but even when they moved me, they kept me in containment units.”

“Come on.” She pushed to her feet and held out her hand.

For maybe the first time in his life, he hoped she wasn't leading him away for sex. It would feel like a pity move, and he didn't want it on those terms. But he took it anyway and let her pull him up. Instead of heading for her quarters, she led him on a meandering path through Queensland. They ended in what looked like a storage closet, but inside, it had been appointed like somebody's personal retreat.

“That's an old vid console,” he said.

“Yeah. This is Martine's hangout, but she showed it to me the night we got really drunk together. I
think
that means I have permission to be here.”

“You sure? I realize you're the Dread Queen and all, but I'm not sure you want to piss off bright eyes.”

“Why do you call her that anyway?”

“Because this place hasn't ground the life out of her yet.” Some convicts, you could tell with one look that they'd given up, yielded to despair and acceptance. Not Martine.

“She's been here almost as long as I have.” With a gesture, Dred seemed to dismiss the subject of Martine though Jael hoped the sharp-toothed woman wouldn't appear in a rage when she discovered them trespassing. “Sit down, I want to show you something.”

With a growing sense of curiosity, Jael folded into the cushions next to her. She wore a concentrated look as she fiddled with the remote. Eventually, she got the menu up, though the quality was terrible. Lines ran through the picture, making the vid look like a canvas of geometric art. He was patience itself, though, waiting for the reveal. Dred skimmed a number of titles, then she picked one and keyed through it. All at once, he understood. On the screen was a brilliant sunrise, the colors shimmering and lovely despite the screen defects.

“This is what I've got,” she said softly. “It's not freedom, but—”

“It's more than anyone else ever gave me.”

That wasn't true in the strictest sense. There
had
been women—often wealthy—but their gifts didn't compare. He'd sold the timepieces and jewelry almost as soon as he left them. But this wasn't the kind of present that could be pawned or taken away. Warm with gratitude, he leaned over to kiss her, and she met him halfway. Her mouth was a galaxy to explore, sweet beyond the telling, and it almost hurt when she tasted him in turn, her breath mingling with his until he wanted to breathe only her.
This can't happen. Not like this.
He pulled away, shaken, because it was so much more than sex. When Martine pulled Tam into the room, then stopped short, Jael was grateful.

“What the hell?” Martine demanded, her expression pure outrage.

“It's my fault,” Jael said. “She just wanted to show me a sunset. We're leaving now.”

Martine scowled at Dred while Tam eyed the ceiling. Jael stepped out into the hall, measurably cooler than the smaller space had been. Ten minutes later, he knew something was truly wrong when his breath showed in a puff of smoke.

“That . . . is a problem,” he murmured.

Dred swore. “Someone's gotten to Queensland's climate controls.”

While nobody could shut off life support, enemy territory could be made profoundly uncomfortable, dangerous even.
Like when we poisoned Grigor's water supply.

“Come.” Jael beckoned with a smile that he hoped looked confident. “Let's deal with the rats in the walls.”