Havoc (Dred Chronicles 2)

He wouldn’t sleep well until he was sure Vost couldn’t lead a raid straight into their territory, bypassing the turrets. With that troublesome thought in mind, he watched Ali close up the wall. Her hands are strong enough to crush a man’s skull. She might even be able to do it through one of those helmets. Unfortunately, the merc armor wouldn’t fit her, or she could be an unstoppable killing machine.

It was dark inside the wall, redolent with musty smells. More disturbing was the crunch underfoot as he moved. His vision adapted fast enough for him to identify the crackling whiteness underfoot as small skeletons, and by the shape of the skulls, this was where tons of rodent-creatures had crawled to die. Or maybe the Warren-dwellers thought it was hilarious to dump their trash right outside our doorstep, so to speak. But that was probably an unworthy thought about their new allies.

“How many turns did it take you to achieve this?” Tam asked as they moved.

Ali replied, “I couldn’t even tell you. But I had help.”

Jael registered the smaller man’s curiosity as they moved. Tam was counting, trying to determine when they left Queensland, but despite twists and turns, he wasn’t sure. The tight space confused Jael’s senses, too, and left him feeling as if they’d been in here for hours, and the number of bodies shifting in the dark exacerbated that impression.

“This is the border,” Ali whispered eventually.

Ali opened the wall, this time near shaft access, but it was a different set of maintenance ladders than the ones they used. In fact, Jael had never been in this part of the station; permanent force fields, a Peacemaker, and active turrets blocked it off. But the aliens had found a way in. Jael went third, climbing down the rungs toward the Warren. It was a tight fit for Ali, but it made sense to let her take point. By this point, even their breathing seemed loud. He winced at each footfall as they stepped off the ladder.

From floor to ceiling, this part of the station bore signs of the people who had inhabited it. The walls were etched in symbols and patterns meaningless to Jael, but they doubtless held great significance for those who had painted them. Ali caught his gaze skimming over the art on the walls.

“This was the closest thing we had to a temple. We gathered for regular services.”

“You have a spiritual leader?”

“We did.” Her tone became melancholy.

Jael suspected the priest or shaman, whatever they called him, had died in the attack. “What does this symbol mean?”

“Place of prayer.”

“And this one?”

“Reverence for the dead.” Ali roused from reverie long enough to explain, “Some of the people in the Warren believe in ancestor worship.”

“This may seem like an ignorant question, but the alien with tentacles—”

“You’re not familiar with his species?”

“No. I’ve traveled a fair bit, but not recently.”

She managed a rough chuckle. “That applies to all of us. And he’s Kelazoi, from a planet in the Outskirts. They don’t travel much, tend to be treated poorly when they do.”

“His incarceration supports that allegation.”

“He was with us on New Terra, my mate and I, when we were rounded up and sent to internment camps. We were there for half a turn before they responded to the outcry.” Her breath hitched, and Jael was surprised that he wanted to comfort her. Instead, he just listened. “They promised the media that they’d release us, but instead they sent us to Perdition.”

“That’s enough chatter,” the Ithtorian cut in.

Brahm took the lead from there, signaling with a clawed hand for the others to fall in behind him. It took a while, but they searched the Warren completely. Though the place had obviously been ransacked, and there were dead bodies scattered from the failed defense, they were too late. No mercs. Ali slammed a massive fist into the wall and hung her head.

“I’m sorry. It seems we were too slow.”

“Perhaps not,” Tam said. “We’ll help you deal with your dead, then I’ll tell you what I have in mind.”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” Brahm answered.

Dred nodded. “You can’t just leave them. I know you’d probably prefer to have a service, but—”

“No, it’s enough not to leave them where they fell,” Ali said softly.

It was backbreaking because the corpses had to be hauled up two levels to the nearest recycler, and a few of them were too big for anyone but Ali to manage. From her body language, Jael guessed she had been close to one of the fallen Rodeisians, but she didn’t say a word from the moment she slung his body over her shoulder until Jael helped her push him down the chute. To make matters worse, it was a tight fit, and they had to shove, breaking bones in the process.

She pressed both palms against the chute door after it closed, then she whispered, “Good-bye, my love.” Her grief and sorrow were palpable.

Jael had no idea what to say to her, and it was bewildering even to contemplate what words might be right for the occasion. In the end, he simply followed her down to get the rest of the bodies. Afterward, Tam laid out his plan, using dust from a little-used passage to sketch in the particulars. Brahm and Ali agreed at once while Dred looked thoughtful.

“What’s the goal here, Tam? Revenge, carnage, or equipment?”

Jael nodded at Dred, indicating he wondered the same thing.

“Why does it have to be mutually exclusive?” Brahm asked.

“If we’re fighting to kill, we’ll go into the battle differently than if we’re planning a snatch and grab,” Jael answered.

And the Ithtorian acknowledged the truth of that with an inclination of his head.

“I want them all dead,” Tam said quietly. “It’s the only solution that will serve. But we don’t have the firepower to kill ten armored mercs with two rifles between the six of us.”

“So this is a robbery,” Ali said.

Jael had once known a Rodeisian female fairly well; she had been mated to a merc he called a friend. Despite their size, Rodeisians were typically calm and gentle unless you hurt their loved ones. And then there was no shelter from their wrath. So he was surprised to read bitterness and not rage in the twist of her generous mouth.

“Is that a problem?” Martine asked.

Ali shook her head, sorrow in her glittering eyes. “I was just thinking that it’s ironic. It took sending me to prison and murdering my mate to turn me into a criminal.”