Perdition (The Dred Chronicles) (23 page)

37

Tooth and Claw

Using Tam as a messenger, Dred recalled the men from their post outside the recycling center. They looked grubby as hell when they returned, and they’d lost five men. The posting took a full day, but fortunately, it didn’t take long for dehydration to set in. Three days without water entirely would kill the Great Bear and all his men, but the ship couldn’t be programmed to kill. So dirty water would weaken them, then the lights would go out, step two in the plan to diminish and demoralize the enemy.

Her heart didn’t settle until she found Jael and Einar in the crowd, then she despised herself for feeling relieved. Attachments didn’t prosper in a place like this.

“How many did you kill?” she asked, as they reached her.

“Close to fifty,” the big man answered.

“Good work.”

“The last batch were ill,” Jael added. “It was mercy to put them down.”

“Then the plan’s working.” It also meant she needed to set a permanent guard down there, as somebody else might be capable of duplicating Tam’s success. “That’s all for now. Go find some real food and get some rest.”

Some would undoubtedly call it superstitious, but after she finished with Einar and Jael, she went in search of Wills, who was fiddling with R-17. He scowled at her interruption. “What do you want?”

“I’d like you to do a reading for me, regarding the outcome of the battle against Grigor.”

Wills sobered at once. “Of course. I’ve had troubling dreams, my queen.”

Under her watchful eye, he drew out his bones and rolled them in his palms to warm them, then he sliced his arms to lubricate them in his own blood. Not for the first time, Dred wondered how he had come to his precise ritual. She didn’t look away, even when he spat on the mixture, then slicked it over the surface of the bones until they looked like writhing maggots. Blinking hard, she looked again; and they were just bones rattling together.

He tossed them to the floor and squatted over them. Though she could discern no pattern in the mess, he paled, the salt-and-pepper bristles on his jaw standing out in contrast. “Victory requires a life for a life, my queen, and there remains one disloyal to you in his heart, watching and waiting.”

Her fingers curled into fists. “Does that mean for every one of theirs we kill, someone here will die? And can you tell me the name of this traitor?”

Hoping to glean more, Dred slipped into second sight, but as ever, Wills burned a sickly yellow all the way through, no shades or striations. It was always the same when he read for her, though his colors returned to normal once the foretelling died away. She opened her eyes to see him shaking his head.

“Names and faces are not given for me to know.”

“That would be too easy,” she muttered.

“Have a care,” he warned. “I saw long ago . . . this may cost more than you care to pay.”

Dred nodded. “Thanks, Wills. I’ll keep it in mind.”

She could tell by his expression that he realized she wouldn’t alter course. Even if the body count was insanely high, she couldn’t back off, not when she was one or two moves away from clearing the board and claiming the Great Bear’s assets. With Silence’s teeth on her neck, there was no other path open to her. Unsettled, she left the bone-reader to tidy up the mess and return to tinkering with the maintenance bot.

“Did you learn anything useful?” Tam asked, as she joined the meal queue.

“You know how his predictions go. He prognosticates doom, as usual.”

“I’d hoped he might sing a different tune. Things are proceeding exactly as we planned.”

She accepted a bowl of food, then followed the spymaster to a table. Tam ate as efficiently as he did everything else, but with better manners than most men. He didn’t do the prison yard hunch, either, with his arms framed around his tray and his body tensed to stab anyone who reached for his bowl.

“You’re an enigma,” she said. “I wonder how you ended up here.”

“Are you asking, my queen, or demanding?” His voice was wooden, like an old staircase that led down into darkness, and about as safe.

“Neither.” She ate a few bites in speculative silence.

Tam’s face was cold and hard in profile. “If it matters, I don’t regret a single thing I did that landed me here. And I’d do it all again.”

“You don’t have normal prison manners.”

“This was my first stop once I was taken into custody.”

That surprised her. Dred put down her spoon, eyeing him with pure curiosity. “No preliminary holding facility? No trial?”

“That’s correct.”

“Is that even legal?”

“Not entirely, but it was part of a larger agreement. I’m satisfied.” By his abortive gesture, she guessed he was done talking about the past.

“Will you tell me the story someday?”

“It’s not mine to share.” His dark eyes went distant.

“I understand.” And it wasn’t a Dread Queen inquiry, either.

The queen cared only for the state of her territory, nothing for the feelings of those who dwelled within it. In Perdition, the greatest monsters clawed their way to the top of the heap. She wasn’t sure what it said about her that she’d let Tam plant her on the scrap-metal throne. Dred slanted a look at the horrific thing, squatting at the far end of the hall. There had been an inmate who Artan kept chained at the bottom of it like a dog. He’d eaten, slept, and defecated, right there, until he ceased to be amusing, then he died slowly.

“How long has it been since you slept?” he asked.

She started, covering a guilty look. “How did you know?”

“You think I don’t know when someone’s pretending?”

Dred hated the thought of his listening to her toss and turn. They never talked once they went to bed; it was a peculiar and functional relationship. Tam was like obsidian, utterly impenetrable; and he kept his own counsel, except as pertained to the campaign. That was safest, but at the moment, she wanted more from him, if only to disprove the doubts Ike had planted. She wanted to believe Tam valued their association, superficial though it might be, but he wasn’t the sort of man to offer a centimeter more than he must.

“I can’t remember,” she admitted. “It’s been days, though, I think. It’s hard for me to unwind with everything—”

“Go. Get some rest, or you’ll be useless later.” It was a practical suggestion, not an order, so she didn’t bristle.

Sighing, she pushed away from the table. “Very well. Einar will probably be crashed out, too, so at least I’ll have company.”

“There is that.” Tam nodded in farewell.

She turned and strode toward the corridor leading to the dormitories. Queensland would become difficult to hold, too much territory and not enough bodies to guard it, unless something shifted between now and the end of the conflict with Grigor.
Maybe the supply ship will return soon. I could bolster our numbers that way.
But unlike Artan, she didn’t recruit en masse, taking everyone capable of stumbling after her. If a man didn’t hold up to close scrutiny, she let him be; it made Queensland easier to govern. Slowly, she had been weeding out Artan’s original recruits, subtly encouraging them to challenge one another during the blood-sport matches.

Between Priest and Grigor, we haven’t needed them lately to keep the men in check.

She was deep in thought as she rounded the corner toward her quarters. Consequently, her reflexes were slow—and the bastard nearly sank his knife into her spine. She wheeled on the traitor, livid, as his blade skimmed sideways over her ribs. Blood welled, but she could tell it was a shallow cut, just another scar for the collection. There was no time to unlash her chains, but even with a knife in his hands, she thought she was a match for him.

Evidently, he agreed because he turned to run. Dred came at his back, snapping a kick that rocked him forward onto his knees. Then she slammed a spiked boot into the back of his thigh, effectively crippling him. She backhanded him across the face, and while he was still dazed, she dragged him back to the hall, leaving a blood trail behind. It was impossible that she didn’t even know this man’s name, but he was a relative newcomer to her territory, fresh off the ship just before Jael’s arrival.

“Who knows this scum?” she called in furious tones.

Tentatively, a young man came forward. It took her a few seconds, but she placed him. Zediah, who worked as much as possible in the gardens. “His name’s Niles, my queen.”

“Well, Niles just tried to assassinate me.”

“Dumb shit,” someone muttered.

Another shook his head. “Imagine, trying to take the Dread Queen on your own.”

“On your knees,” she bit out.

The scrape across her back was burning like mad.
If the cowardly piece of shit poisoned me—
She cut the thought. Regardless, he had to die in spectacular fashion, and this time, she didn’t look for Tam. She’d killed enough men to know how to make a show of it.

“Shall we see what a traitor’s blood looks like?” she asked the Queenslanders.

“Aye!” they roared back.

Taking the man’s knife, she bent, held him by the hair like an animal to be slaughtered, and gutted him, so a red pool spread beneath. The men howled their approval as the body fell. By the time Tam made his way over to her, she had dropped the weapon.

“Einar didn’t wake?”

“I wasn’t close enough to the dormitories for him to hear. Though Niles was a cowardly dog, he chose a good, isolated spot to strike.”

Wills joined them a few moments later. “You ferreted him out, my queen. Well done.”

Relief spread through her.
The traitor he’s been predicting all along, unmasked at last.
Part of her had feared it would be Jael.

“I did little enough. He simply wasn’t as skilled as he thought.”

“Still,” Tam said, “it means we can proceed with no impediments.”

She nodded. “Time to finish this.”

38

Dying of the Light

“You positive you know where we’re going?” Jael asked Tam.

“Reasonably sure.”

They were trying a two-pronged attack—tainted water and full darkness—against Grigor. Jael’s team was heading down into the bowels of the ship for some prelim work; he hoped they didn’t run afoul of Katur’s aliens. The last thing Queensland needed was another conflict, just before this one was about to be settled. Tam seemed to think as long as they were respectful, there should be no problems.

“Why are we taking such a small party?”

“Because we’re not staying to kill. Once we accomplish our task down below, we’re regrouping to join Dred for the final assault.”

Ah, got it.

Their goal was quiet efficiency, not mass slaughter. Once they cut the power, the mayhem would begin. Jael followed as the others went to the shafts and headed down. Tam and Martine, along with Jael, made up the team. The other two were quiet as they climbed, none of Martine’s usual wit. The enemy had to be feeling the pressure of constant watches, constant patrols, by now, and the Great Bear wouldn’t take such strikes lying down; if he could muster any soldiers fit to fight, they’d soon be knocking at Queensland’s figurative gates.

“Tam, why did she pick us for this?” Martine wanted to know.

“Because we have the best chance of surviving it.”

Now that’s reassuring.

The other man went on, “And you apparently told her you want more responsibility.”

Jael laughed at that. “That’ll teach you to volunteer, bright eyes.”

“Shut up,” Martine muttered.

The rest of the way, they skulked in the shadows, cautious not to engage other patrols. Tam was an expert at finding places to hide, then barely seeming to breathe while enemies tromped past. Martine wasn’t bad either, which made Jael curious. She cut him a look over one shoulder that she wasn’t interested in conversation.

Just as well, stick to business.

He heard the sibilant sounds of an alien tongue long before they stepped into normal auditory range. From what he could tell, a group from the Warren was headed this way. Jael glanced at Tam, whispering, “How do you want to handle it?”

“This way,” the spymaster said.

They had just dodged around the corner and stepped into a storage closet when he detected the sound of pursuit. Martine cocked her head. “They’re saying they can smell us.”

“You speak the language?” he asked, impressed.

“Enough to get by. It’s helpful when you travel a lot . . . though not so much lately.”

Jael lifted his chin and smiled to indicate he thought that was funny. So many inmates had let incarceration steal their senses of humor—or maybe they just never had one. Tam raised a hand, quieting them, and he stilled in response, head tilted to catch any movements nearby.
Surely Dred didn’t want us to delay the mission inevitably.
But the spymaster wouldn’t permit them to kill a single soul down in the Warren, which made traversing it difficult.

At that point, Tam apparently decided it was smarter to acknowledge the aliens. He stepped out with both hands visible, and said, “Katur has given me permission to pass through his territory. Feel free to send word . . . I’m the one who saved Keelah.”

The scouting party discussed among themselves while Martine translated. “They’re saying all humans look alike, but that they think they’ve smelled Tam before. Now they’re trying to decide what to do about us.”

“This isn’t a hostile incursion,” Tam said quietly. “We’re passing through to strike at the Great Bear, and his defeat will make life a great deal safer for your people.”

Jael knew that much to be true, as Grigor’s men hunted aliens for sport. His heart was actually pounding, not because he feared they couldn’t defeat these creatures, but in anticipation of disobeying the Dread Queen. She wouldn’t like doing so, but protocol demanded punishment for failure, if they had to kill counter to her orders. and he couldn’t submit while she delivered it. Just . . . it was so much better, all around, if this ended without bloodshed.

Finally, the alien scout leader said in universal, “You have ten minutes. If you aren’t gone by then, we’ll hunt you down.”

“Thank you. Give my best to Katur and Keelah.” Tam’s tone was almost courtly.

Once the aliens moved off, Martine asked, “Will that be long enough?”

“Hope so. We’re going down here.” Tam stepped over to the nearest hatch and started his descent. This was lower than even the normal maintenance shafts.

What the hell is below the Warren?

Soon, Jael had his answer.

This was the sheer guts of the ship, a tangle of sparking wires and metal pylons. It formed the framework for everything else, attaching to the walls that supported the upper levels. Martine looked fascinated; she started forward, but Tam checked her.

“Careful. Things are in bad repair down here. Those are live wires, ungrounded.”

“I’m starting to see why you need me,” Jael said.

Tam flicked him a look of veiled perplexity. “I wish
I
did. Over there, that section of the grid keeps the power on in Grigor’s territory. If you unplug them, they drop into the dark. But to get there, you have to cross that—”

“And a normal man would die before he reached the panel since the charged metal floor would fry anyone else.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken so freely of his ability until Martine aimed a speculative look at him.

Oops. Guess she knows I don’t consider myself normal. Or a man, by most definitions.

“You think you can live through that?” she asked.

Jael didn’t bother replying. He hated electricity; it screwed with his coordination and his ability to think clearly, plus it made him smell like roasting meat. The scientists had tried to train him with electroshocks as well as dream therapy. Neither proved useful in modifying his behavior. They’d stamped his file with a big red REJ, citing the fact that he was ungovernable. It was clearly that he must be damaged, or he wouldn’t be considering this task.

“If you wait, I can try to move the wires,” Tam said. “When I scouted earlier, they weren’t touching the floor. They must’ve shifted.”

He nodded. Tremors weren’t uncommon. Sometimes the ship ran into debris that had fallen off the ship over the turns in orbit. If prisoners didn’t have so much to worry about inside, they might fret about a potential hull breach. For now, he’d focus on getting this done for Dred. It must be important if she’d pulled him off the front lines.

“If I fall,” he said to Tam, “don’t come after me.”

“
I
didn’t plan to,” Martine muttered.

The spymaster nodded. “Noted. Are you clear on which wires to disconnect?”

“You pointed out the section. But how many?”

“All of them within that white square, outlined in red. Try not to rip them, however, or it will be difficult to get the power back on. Silence won’t be happy if we deliver her new territory, complete with permanent blackout.”

“You sure?” the woman asked. “Death might enjoy the dark.”

Tam seemed amused. “I’d rather not deal with an invasion straightaway. We need time to work out the best way to defend the additional ground we’ve gained, how best to use it, too.”

Martine shrugged. “That’s for you to worry about, not me. I’m here to guard the door, right? And listen to what the aliens are saying as they approach.”

“Exactly.”

“Hope you’re fast,” she said. “I get the feeling Katur’s people won’t be generous in their countdown.”

She was likely right about that. So no more talk, no more fragging around.

Bracing himself, Jael ignored the other two and leapt toward the panel on the far wall.
Damn.
There wasn’t enough space for him to get a running start, so he landed square in the shock field. It didn’t matter how much he prepared mentally, though; the fierce, white-hot lightning zinging through his body made him dizzy—and it hurt
so bad
. The pain was constant, shooting up through the soles of his boots, along his calves, and into his knees. His legs wobbled as his whole body heated. He pressed forward with steps so careful they were clumsy.

Wonder how I look to them, if I’m glowing or sparking.

As if from a distance, he heard Tam say, “You’re doing great, nearly there.”

His eyes felt queer, melted, and he couldn’t see very well anymore. Smoke poured off the top of his head. He stepped off the live wires in front of the panel, staggered against the wall. That hurt, too, as his palms were bright red, cracked, and peeling. His arms showed black in spots, and he could only imagine how his feet looked.

“Dear Mary,” Martine breathed. “How’s he still moving?”

He would’ve made a joke but his lips were fused.
The things I do for a pretty girl.
Tam didn’t say anything about hurrying, probably because he understood Jael lacked the coordination to finish the job just yet. His body kicked in then, attacking the damage with efficient ferocity. Martine gasped, rubbing her eyes like she might be hallucinating. By the time his hands regenerated enough for him to finish the job, she was pestering Tam for more information. To his credit, the spymaster said nothing though that would be because he didn’t know.

Jael had no idea why he was so sure, but he believed that Dred hadn’t told Tam a damned thing. She’d kept his secret, even from her two closest confidantes. Jael unplugged the wires one by one, careful not to tear them and leaving the metal connectors in place for future use. At last he turned, still a white-hot ball of agony. Burns took a long time to heal, relative to other injuries, and now he had to face it again.

“You two go on ahead,” he said thickly. “I need some time.”

Tam shook his head, looking skeptical. “My orders are to stay with you.”

No wonder he looks doubtful. I must look like death itself.

“It’s going to take me longer than they gave for me to recover enough to get out of here.” Technically, they were under the Warren, not in Katur’s territory, so maybe as long as they stayed down here, the aliens wouldn’t attack.
Mary, this hurts.

The other man made himself comfortable. “Recover? I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Martine stared at him. “If you think I’m going anywhere without some answers, you’re as crazy as you are pretty.”

Since he was a crisped monster right then, Jael appreciated her pretense at flirtation. But he suspected the other two didn’t understand. “If I try to cross now, I’ll be incapacitated. I have to heal enough to make it back across. It could be hours.”

“Then settle in,” Tam said. “Take however long you need. We’re not leaving.”

“Why?”

Martine answered, “Dred’s orders. But look, even without them, I wouldn’t bail. You need me to kick some alien ass if they venture down here looking for us.”

That was a stupid argument. “They couldn’t get to me without frying.”

“They have missile weapons,” Tam pointed out. “It’s my hope, however, that they will check in with Katur and that he’ll grant his blessing to our expedition.”

Shit.
Jael gave up trying to get them to abandon him, an odd feeling. People had never proven reluctant to cut him loose before—and they were usually
more
eager to get away, once they learned how inhuman he was. He should be troubled about Martine’s knowing the truth, as she had little reason to wish him well. It made no sense that he’d encounter loyalty like this inside Perdition, where the worst of humanity was imprisoned.

But maybe there are a few of the best, too.