Perdition (The Dred Chronicles) (5 page)

7

The Quick and the Dead

“I’ll take it from here,” Dred said.

She savored the shock on the new fish’s face. He had been so involved in the conversation that he hadn’t noticed her approach. From his reaction, she guessed that wasn’t customary. Normally, he was sharper on his feet; and in here, he needed to be. Though she wondered what Ike had been telling him, the old man wouldn’t reveal anything that could be used against her.

“As you like,” Ike said.

He moved off and stretched out to catch a nap. That was fairly rare. In most territories, you couldn’t afford a sound sleep, as it was likely somebody would shank you for the pleasure of it. Or worse. The new fish was studying her again with those deep blue eyes, too vivid against the pallor of his skin. He had good bones, though. She didn’t want to notice that. He was handsome, and he knew it, a well-made male animal.

“You said something about taking me in hand?” The question contained a mocking tone.

“Not exactly. But I prefer you address your questions to me.”

“You seemed busy.”

Their conversation was attracting attention, and a few men sidled closer to eavesdrop, so she beckoned him to follow. She led the way out of the main hall, which had been the primary mess, she suspected, back when the ship was used as a mining refinery. Fortunately, her zone also had facilities for the workers, which meant some privacy. Most of them were cramped, stacks of bunks one atop the other, but she had the foreman’s suite, a little bigger than the rest. It was antiquated and relentlessly gray, but power came with compensations for the weight she carried to keep Queensland running smooth.

Once the door swished shut behind them, she said, “I can see that you’re not one to coast, so I can reckon you an asset, or you’ll become a malcontent, causing problems I can’t afford.”

His brow went up. “You’ve judged me so swiftly.”

“Am I wrong?”

To her surprise, he laughed. “I definitely have my own agenda.”

Ah, the impossible dream.
She didn’t need to be a telepathic Psi to grasp his meaning. “Let me predict your path. For the next two turns, give or take, you’ll devote yourself to learning the ship’s systems, security measures, and routines.”

“I dislike being so predictable.”

A faint pang of sympathy went through her. It hadn’t been so long, relatively speaking, since she went through those desperate motions, sure she would be the exception—that she could chart a path out of here and get back to what had passed for her life. But the problem was, there were no routines. The transport shuttles arrived irregularly, and everything went into lockdown. There was no way to implement a plan that required timing and preparation when you had mere minutes to get in position.

She’d tried, more than once.

Failed.

“Feel free to test my conclusions, but . . . escape is impossible.”

“So,” he said gently, “is my very existence. And yet here I am. Therefore, I submit to you that every problem has a solution. We simply haven’t identified it yet.”

Fascination sank sharp teeth into her, driving Dred to ask, “What do you mean?”

It was unprecedented; she
never
asked personal questions. From the faint flare of satisfaction in his blue gaze, he knew it, too. The bastard. But he wouldn’t be drawn.

Jael merely shook his head. “I haven’t known you long enough to trust you with my deep, dark secrets, queenie.”

“As I recall, you said you didn’t have any.”

“A man who ends up in here is definitely a liar, and that’s likely the least of his crimes.”

“Is it yours? I thought all convicts claim to be innocent, wrongly accused.”

Jael shook his head, his eyes feverish with intensity. “I’m a wicked thing, make no mistake.”

“Your honesty is refreshing. And yet I think one who
admits
to being a beast cannot be so rotten as he claims.”

“You’ll be searching for my halo next. I’m sorry, love, but it’s out for polishing.”

That rejoinder, quick as it was, reminded her of an issue, one she’d left for too long. “When Grigor’s men attacked, you called yourself my champion.”

“You take exception to that?”

“It implies I can’t fight my own battles.”

“Even warrior queens have a knight who fights at their word. It doesn’t mean you
can’t
. Only that I will.”

She’d intended to smack him down, discourage the presumption, but his words intrigued her. “So if I say kill, you’ll kill?”

“Will it earn me perks and pleasures?” His look heated.

“That depends on your definition.”

He lifted one shoulder in a careless, graceful half shrug. “I’ve been used as a weapon before.”

“But you didn’t like it.” By the infinitesimal widening of his eyes, he was surprised she’d guessed that, but his aura gave away flashes of color, hints of old pain. Her ability used to only function on violent emotions, but she’d found her empathy to be like a muscle; the more she used it, the more she could, and the more emotions she detected. It wasn’t always welcome.

He changed the subject. “If you don’t mind, I’d like some answers. I had more questions for Ike, but you sent him off.”

For some reason, she feared what he might ask. Personal matters were verboten, but her filters had been faintly askew with this fish since he entered Queensland. He’d gotten her talking about her father, for Mary’s sake, without half trying. Who knew what he could persuade her to reveal if he applied himself?

“Give me the lay of the land. I ken there are territories, but how many, who runs them? That sort of thing.”

Relief poured through her in a calming tide; her shoulders relaxed. Dred could handle inquiries about how Perdition ran. “What did Ike tell you?”

“He’d just mentioned Abaddon and Priest when you arrived.”

“A religious zealot who’s created a cult of sorts. Everything Priest does is for his own self-aggrandizement and to reward or punish true believers.”

“He’s mad, then.”

“As a hatter. There are six territories, counting mine. Four are governed by men.”

“And they are?”

“Mungo, who rules over Munya. Not sure if it’s named after him or the word means something.” She took Jael’s shrug to indicate he had no idea either. “They’re not too nice about their eating requirements, if you take my meaning.”

“Cannibalism?” Horror drew his brows down, his lips tight.

Good to know. He apparently has limits.

“Among other things. They take prisoners in raids and then have a barbecue. It plays hell on the ventilation system, and the smell . . .” Dred closed her eyes.

Jael swore softly. “I’m starting to reconsider this place being better than the Bug prison.”

It took her a few seconds to place the reference. “You’ve been to Ithiss-Tor?”

Awe ran through her. Whoever he was now, he must’ve been important, as the Bug homeworld had been off-limits for ages, then forty or so turns ago, they opened their borders for a diplomatic envoy, and eventually allied with the Conglomerate to play a key role in the Morgut War. The galaxy was still recovering; certain outposts had fallen while others rose up. Not that she knew anything about recent interstellar affairs. Everything outside Perdition might’ve blown up for all she knew. But Dred felt hungry for news, and she bit down on the urge to question him further. Demonstrating eagerness would give him leverage.

“A long time ago,” he said. “I stayed longer than I intended. Go on?”

She gathered he meant with the rundown of the factions. “Right. To the other side, we have Grigor’s Korolévstvo. He’s a bear of a man, hence the nickname.” Jael raised a brow in inquiry, so she clarified, “The Great Bear. When I arrived, he was at the docking point, recruiting. He keeps the largest standing force, and I’m not entirely sure how he feeds them all. I turned him down in favor of Artan, who looked slightly less terrifying.”

“No atrocities from Grigor?” Jael asked.

She shrugged. “No more than anyone else. He’s a killer, of course, and a ferocious one. More to the point, he’s also a conqueror. Fortunately, not a smart one.”

“He wants your territory?”

Dred pushed out a sigh. Everyone knew, but it hurt to admit, “I only took over from Artan half a turn ago, and it’s been tough to hold on. The Bear thinks he’ll have an easy time rolling over me.”

“We’ll see,” Jael said quietly.

To her mind, that almost sounded like a pledge of support. “Things would be grim for Queensland if space gets divvied up between Priest and Grigor. No more safety, no more hygiene. The men will lose all status, be treated worse than slaves.”

“You sound like you’d mind.”

For obvious reasons, she lied. “Only losing my territory. Let’s see. Two domains left. Katur and the Warren are the least of my problems . . . he has the bowels of the ship and tends to collect aliens. He’s a humanoid from some remote world. Don’t ask me how he ended up here.”

“Same as everyone else. Killed someone important or offended the wrong people.”

“Probably.”

“You said there were four men. That leaves two women in charge. You and who else?”

“Silence.”

“An ominous name. Tell me about her.”

Dred considered, trying to decide how to explain. “Her demesne lies on the other side of Grigor’s from here. She and her followers devote themselves to finding new ways to kill. They’re . . . incarnations of death, and they believe by being entombed here, they’re already in the afterlife, so nothing that transpires matters.”

“The ultimate nihilism?”

“Yes. They’ve all taken vows of silence except for their Speaker for the Dead, who serves as emissary on the rare occasions where communication between zones is required.”

He looked thoughtful. “But if they kill one another without restraint, how does she keep up her numbers? Or defend her borders?”

“I’m unclear on how her system functions,” Dred admitted. “I’ve heard rumors about a Festival of Death, but I don’t know much about it. The wise steer clear of Silence’s people. They’re . . . creepy. In a place like this, that’s saying something.”

“They would be. There’s naught more dangerous than a man with nothing left to lose.”

Dred nodded, surprised at the intimate knowledge of desperation she glimpsed in him. He looked far too young to know so much. Yet she sensed his apparent age was a lie—and a riddle, like so much else about him. It took all of her self-control not to commit herself to unraveling his secrets, but her problems were far more pressing than one man ever could be, no matter how much he intrigued her.

“That ends today’s lessons,” she told him.

“And here I was hoping for a hands-on portion of the tutorial.”

Exactly the opening I hoped for.

“Then it’s your lucky day.”

His brows went up. “Really? That was fast. I didn’t even have to exert my natural charm.”

“I suspect our definitions of the word may differ.” She couldn’t resist a smirk, holding the pause to see if he would break and ask.

He did. “What did you have in mind, then?”

“You’re going to see Silence with me.”

“After everything you said about her cult of death? Why?”

The reminder of how dire their situation had become registered anew, stealing away her mirth like a cold chill. “Because we need an alliance if we’re to survive the brewing conflict. Grigor and Priest are working together, and it won’t be long before they strike.”

“Did you choose Silence because she’s female or because she shares a border with Grigor?” he asked with keen insight.

“Both,” she admitted. “I hope she realizes that if Grigor takes my zone, it won’t be long before he’s looking to expand his borders the other way.”

“If she believes nothing matters, she may not care.”

“That’s a risk I have to take. He won’t rest until he controls the whole ship.”

“Or until he’s dead.”

“If you can achieve that, I’ll grant any reward you like.”

“Be careful what you promise,” he said with a sharp smile.

“It’s not a reckless offer. I said Grigor has the largest population, and he never has less than ten men at his side. Plus, you’d have to cut through multiple checkpoints to reach him.”

He shrugged. “Still not impossible. It would just hurt a lot.”

Who are you?
she wondered.
More to the point,
what
are you?
From a few hints he’d dropped, Dred suspected he wasn’t altogether human. But she didn’t ask.

“Are you ready to go see Silence?”

“Do I have a choice?” By his expression, he thought the answer was no.

“Of course. If you’re a sheep content to be led, then find your pallet while I handle important business.” Dred spoke in a mordant tone, her gaze on his.

In response, he jerked his chin. “You’ve got my measure, queenie. I can’t abide being left on the sidelines. You’re wise to keep me close. Otherwise, it will certainly mean trouble.”

Just as Wills predicted.

8

The Price of Silence

Once Dred called for her two lieutenants, they set off for Entropy, a pretentious name for Silence’s zone. The princess in chains ran a tight ship, so to speak. She murmured greetings to men they passed, some roaming from the dormitories to the main hall, others heading back. From what Jael could tell, she knew their names, and they were courteous to her. It took a strong woman to earn the respect of convicts so brutal they’d been sentenced to die without ever again feeling the sun on their skin.

Me, included.

“I’ll take my turn on patrol,” he said then, “but I’d also like to work in the hydroponics garden if there’s somebody willing to show me what to do.”

Tameron aimed a surprised look at him. “Unexpected. But I can show you the ropes tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

Dred was watching him, too, her expression inscrutable. But she didn’t comment. Which was good because he couldn’t explain the impulse. He couldn’t recall ever helping anything to flower. In his life, he’d only ever rolled through like a Peacemaker unit, leaving destruction in his wake. After so many turns in solitary in the Bug prison and now this place, it seemed like time to change that.

On the way, he noted the guards who patrolled Dred’s territory; they looked attentive, though he’d tighten up their passes and vary the length of time between them. If you ran things with too much precision, people learned to work around the security measures. But he’d talk to Dred in private, later. She might take exception to his critical evaluation of her system.

“The border’s coming up,” she said eventually. “We wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important. But if we’re spotted, fight for your lives. Grigor catches us, and we end up dead.”

“Understood,” Einar answered.

Tam only nodded, then she went on, “It will be safest if we go through the maintenance shafts and stay out of the main corridors. Is that a problem for anybody?”

“Not for me,” Jael answered.

“I might be too loud.” Einar stood quiet, waiting for her judgment.

Her strong features went thoughtful. She wasn’t beautiful, but her fierceness drew the eye. Sometimes strength was better than beauty, especially in a place like this. “Head back and keep the others on point. Keep a sharp eye on our perimeters, especially all access points near the garden.”

“Will do,” Einar muttered.

He turned and strode away. Jael could tell he wasn’t pleased, but at least the man knew his limitations. Not that Jael would mind a fight. Dred didn’t realize what an asset she’d acquired, but for the moment, it was nice being treated like a person, not a weapon. That would change soon enough.

“Here,” she said after they’d walked for a while. “Boost Tam so he can open the panel.”

“As you command, queenie,” he said with a touch of irony.

He’d never been good at taking orders unless they came with a fat payday. Yet he still cupped his hands and tossed the other man up; Tam latched onto the rungs bolted into the side high on the wall. The man fiddled with the latches, then it opened. He climbed in without waiting for the order, which made Jael think he traveled this way a lot. He tossed Dred up next, and she peered over her shoulder at him.

“Can you—”

Before she could complete the question, he took a few steps back for a running start and launched himself up. His thighs were deceptively strong, and he landed right below her, close enough to feel the heat of her body, her braids brushing against his shoulders. His whole body reacted.
It’s only because it’s been so long,
he told himself. With effort, he slowed his breathing and denied the response.

“Stay close,” she said.

The shafts were dark and cold, coated with old mining dust. Ahead, Tam forged a certain trail, cutting left and right with no hesitation; sometimes they dropped down a level via more rungs bolted to the wall. In places the metal was unsteady, rusted, and he didn’t like putting his whole weight on it. There was no way to be sure how far the drop would be should a bar tear free and send him plummeting. Jael wished being hard to kill meant immunity to fright, but he could still fear things even when he knew they couldn’t end him.

“If we can sneak around like this,” he whispered eventually, “so can they. Do you monitor the access points?”

She cast a scornful look over one shoulder. “Of course. I can’t keep them from passing through, but if they drop out in my zone, I handle it.”

Tam said nothing, likely focused on making sure they didn’t get lost. He was small and quick, an excellent guide. Jael imagined that the other man had memorized where the ducts traveled and the best places to emerge. Countless moments later, he opened a panel and disappeared from sight.

Jael sighed. “He doesn’t talk much.”

“You could learn from him.”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“In here, ‘charm’ will get you killed.”

“I should be so lucky,” he muttered.

“One of these days, I’ll ask why you’re so in love with the prospect of dying.”

He cocked a half smile, knowing most women hated that look. It was the one he saved for when they realized he had no intention of promising anything other than the ferocious hour they’d spent clawing and biting. “And I might tell you if you ask me sweetly enough.”

“Not going to happen.”

“You should try everything once.”

“Not that,” she said.

Now he wasn’t sure if they were talking about death or her employing wiles to get at his truths. She was an intriguing woman. As he wondered, she dropped out of sight, and he followed. This portion of the ship looked decidedly different. The walls were streaked dark, paint of some kind, making the metal look ominous and laser-scarred.

“This is the border between Grigor and Silence’s territory,” she said.

Jael hadn’t really believed the ship could look much different from zone to zone, but double black lines were painted on the floor and walls, and primitive fencing had been erected. Four men waited on the other side, pale and quiet. On this side, the walls had red characters on them, an old alphabet he knew was called Cyrillic, though he couldn’t recall where he’d learned that bit of trivia. From Surge, maybe, one of the mercs he’d served with on Nicu Tertius.

Tam stepped forward and signed to the sentries.
So Dred wasn’t kidding when she said they take a vow of silence.
That would get old . . . and creepy, fast. A few minutes later, Tameron nodded and stepped back as the guards opened the gate.

Impatient, Tam beckoned them on. Once they got past the checkpoint, he explained, “They gave me today’s password in case anyone stops us.”

“How did you persuade them to let us see Silence?” Dred asked.

Jael was wondering the same. Though he hadn’t been inside long, he understood that passing an enemy’s border wasn’t done lightly. According to local gossip, she’d executed one of Grigor’s people for doing just that, not long before his arrival. But they had temporary clearance to be here.

“I told them it was a matter of life and death.”

Dred cut Tam a look. “You realize she’s much more interested in the latter?”

“It’s up to you to convince her not to execute us.”

Jael thought that sounded remarkably unconcerned, but maybe Tam had that much confidence in her abilities. She had rolled into Queensland and taken it over half a turn ago. That wasn’t done lightly. From what he could see, the men were loyal. Well. Loyal as men like this could be.

Me, included.

Some distance from the border, the first patrol dropped down behind them. Jael had a garrote around his neck before Tam managed to signal them. The smaller man did so frantically, struggling with the assassin who held him. Jael didn’t bother trying to imitate the sign; he just slammed his head back as hard as he could. He heard the crack of cartilage.

Got your nose.

Jael spun. The man didn’t cry out as blood streamed down his chin. His eyes were queer, dead and empty. Despite himself, a shiver ran through him.
This place truly is hell, a mortal afterlife where they chain those too monstrous for freedom.

Me, included.

Instead of signaling back, the sentries slipped into the darkness. Jael had preternatural senses; that wasn’t a boast, but fact. He could hear Dred’s heartbeat beside him, Tam’s a little farther on. He heard her faint arrhythmia and Tameron’s accelerated breathing. He heard the skitter of claws; the ship was infested. But from Silence’s killers, he heard nothing at all.

Like they’re truly dead.

Regardless, he was glad he’d been invited along so he could see the other zone. So far, this one was grimier—darker—than Dred’s domain, and it had black paint on the walls. Not a huge difference.

But as they approached, he breathed, “Dear Mary, what’s that smell?”

“Death,” she said simply.

In his days as a merc, then from his time as a tank-thing, born of tubes and chemicals and wires, he’d seem some horrors. They’d driven many of his pod mad. To his knowledge, he was the only survivor of the Ideal Genome Project, and he’d still never witnessed anything like this. The room was full of rotting bodies, piles of bones. Obviously human, some had been fashioned into furniture. But they hadn’t been cleaned or treated, just rawly carved, and the stench lingered. A gaunt, sunken-eyed woman in black lounged on her grisly throne, gray hair a wild tangle about her head. Countless eyes fixed on them as they entered, but no one spoke.

It was silent as the tomb.

Jael thought back to Dred’s casual warning about Silence’s people and realized that was a massive understatement. If she was seeking an alliance with this lunatic, how bad must Grigor and Priest be? With an imperious gesture from a skeletal arm, Silence summoned them forward.

Her eyes burned like black holes in her skull, and Jael fought the urge to retreat. He’d never encountered anyone who unnerved him more; he didn’t like to call her a woman because she lacked some key element of humanity.
Is that what people see when they look at me?
The question chewed in and burrowed deep.

Silence studied them for a few seconds, then her thin fingers flew in complex gestures. Then a slim figure stepped forth from the shadows behind the gruesome throne. Clad in black, his face painted in gray and white to resemble a skull, this had to be the Speaker for the Dead, the one soul in Silence’s domain who was permitted to speak.

All part of the spectacle,
Jael decided.

The Speaker intoned, “What brings you before Death’s Handmaiden?”

It should’ve been a ridiculous, melodramatic question. It wasn’t.

Dred held her ground. “I seek an alliance.”

Jael listened while she elaborated on the coalition between Grigor and Priest and the danger it posed to Entropy should Queensland fall. In preternatural stillness, Silence listened. And then she signed to her Speaker.

Who said, “Death fears nothing. What must be, will be.”

That was a load of shit. Silence was utterly demented, and no amount of logic would sway her. There was no time to check with the princess in chains as the idea came to him. He sensed stirring in the shadows, sensing that any moment, they would become the day’s entertainment. Since he’d been tortured before—and he had no desire for these lunatics to learn how long he could suffer without dying—Jael stepped forward.

“Then let Death decide,” he said.

Silence skewered him with a gaze made of black madness, then she signed to her Speaker. “Your words are intriguing, child.”

Don’t call me that. I never was one. Four turns into my creation, and I was already killing.
Maybe he had no right to judge Silence.

“You said Death fears nothing, but I’ve heard he’s a gentleman. So let your champion face me. And if I survive, you stand with the Dread Queen against Grigor and Priest.”