Havoc (Dred Chronicles 2)

She kept time to the pace the men set, twirling in a pantomime of the night she killed Artan. The storydance unfolded in silent verses with each lash of her chains, each stomp of her feet, each clockwise turn. Though it was simple choreography, it was important to keep an eye on how the ritual impacted her audience. A few looked bored, as they’d seen it before, but others seemed enthralled with the sway of her hips. Most knew they’d never make it past the door of her quarters without dying, so this was the piece of the Dread Queen they claimed.

Einar used to roar out a song as I danced. Not a very good one, but meant to evoke the glorious nature of the deed; the big man had written it himself. In comparison, the storydance seemed oddly somber, performed without his accompaniment. As if the men sensed that same lack, someone in the back started singing:

The queen in waiting, she bided her time,

Watching, plotting, and waiting to strike.

While the brute, he ranted and roared,

Never seeing the danger in her.

There were several verses, though nobody but Einar had memorized them. So the men got lost around the third stanza and started making up their own. She didn’t let the terrible poetry distract her from finishing the performance, so she spun into the last moments of the dance with increased intensity, stomping and whirling, chains flying over her head until she thought she might strangle herself. By the time she finished, her arms and shoulders were aching, and the common room rang with the chants of “Dread Queen.”

“Explain to me what that was about,” Jael said, as she sat down. Quietly, she filled in him in, and when she finished, he was frowning. “You’re not a performing pet, Dred.”

She shrugged. “Take it up with Tam. They don’t ask often enough for me to care, usually just at celebrations like this.”

“If you don’t mind, it’s not my business.”

As time wore on, the men got drunker, but the patrolmen abstained. The louder it got in the hall, however, the more she wanted to escape. Jael laced his fingers with hers and pulled her away from the table, where two men were arm wrestling. She let him because she’d given the public enough for one night. Time for peace and quiet.

“Do you mind if we check on the sentries?”

“That’s probably a good idea. Tam said this is safe enough, but if I was Vost, I’d think this was the perfect time to attack.”

“Presuming he knows.”

Jael nodded. “I’ve been busting his drone cams as fast as I spot them, and he can’t have an unlimited supply.”

As they headed for the north border, Dred spotted Tam, along with Martine and Calypso. They each carried an armload of miscellaneous articles, and Calypso had a crate. “Mission accomplished.”

“What did you get?” she asked.

“Ammo and replacement parts mostly. They didn’t leave much for us in the command post.” Tam didn’t seem surprised. “I wouldn’t either.”

“He probably moved their more valuable gear,” Jael said.

Dred offered a half smile at that. “If he’s started hiding his goods, creating caches, then he’s going native.”

“We barely made it out,” Calypso put in. “The ass**les came back singing. Seems like it went well in Munya.”

“Is there a party on?” Martine cocked her head, listening to the racket coming from the common room.

Dred stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture. “Have at it. They’re gambling, too, so you should be able to hustle a bunch of suckers.”

“Come with me. You’re a genius at spotting tells.”

Jael didn’t move, but Dred knew he was expecting her to accept the invitation. She found that she wanted to surprise him—in a good way. It had been so long since she gave a damn about anyone else’s feelings. This was both liberating . . . and terrifying.

“I’ve got other plans,” she said quietly.

“Oh?” Martine grinned. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Fortunately, that gives me a lot of leeway.”

Martine grinned. “Seems like we’ve bonded, queenie. I approve.”

Dred put a hand on Jael’s arm. “Let’s finish our rounds, then retire.”

“Sounds good, love.” He wore a light expression, but she saw that he expected her to bitch about the endearment, used in front of people.

Instead, she waved at the others and went to make sure the sentries were sober.

32

Coming in Hot

At the east checkpoint, the sentries reeked of rotgut and could barely stand upright. Jael bit out a curse. “I doubt there’s a sober man left in the place to relieve them.”

“Not who isn’t already assigned elsewhere.” Dred scraped an angry hand through her tangled hair. The trinkets clacked with the movement.

“Then we’ll have to finish their watch.”

She sighed. “It’s not how I wanted to spend our night, but it’s necessary.”

“I don’t mind.” He could’ve said that was because he had her with him, but it seemed like too close to a confession. Though he’d promised to help her escape, they’d never talked about a future. In here, such a thing didn’t exist.

“I appreciate it.” She turned to the drunken guards. “Get to bed. Now. If I find out you went to the common room to keep drinking, you’ll get worse than a flogging tomorrow.”

Jael could see that the men believed her, and they stumbled off, leaving their post. Dred took up the weapons they’d left behind and handed one to Jael. He’d never stood watch like this, and he guessed it had been a long time for her, too.

“Did Artan ever station you here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “He preferred to keep me close.”

So do I.

It was a long night, listening to distant shouts from sotted Queenslanders. And when relief turned up, they were visibly worse for the wear and stunk of liquor.

“Are you two sober enough to stand watch?” Dred demanded. She put them through a series of a tests and eventually gave grudging permission for them to take over. “If there’s an incursion on your watch because one of you passed out, you better hope the enemy kills you before I do. I guarantee it’ll be faster.”

“We’ll keep each other awake,” the soldier promised.

“You almost made him piss himself,” Jael said, once they moved off.

“That’s my job.”

Together, they walked in silence to her quarters. Things had died down at last in the common room, the din replaced by periodic snoring. “I can only imagine how long it’ll take to set the place to rights.”