Havoc (Dred Chronicles 2)

“Hey,” a merc snapped. “We don’t belong here. We’re not scum like you.”

The commander sighed. “Did you even read the dossier I put together before we dropped on site?” The two mercs looked at each other, then they both shook their heads. That made their commander ball up a fist. “If you had, maybe we’d have fared better in here.”

That sounds like he knows it’s over for them. Interesting.

“Why? What did it say?”

She listened as she crept incrementally closer to the wall. From a better position, she could definitely spring to safety before they unloaded on her. Vost was aware of her shift, though the other two weren’t. Clear to see why he was leading these men and that they were lucky to be alive. When she spotted Tam behind him, along with a half dozen Queenslanders, she didn’t give it away, unlike Silence.

“I ranked the prisoners according to threat level. I went over their criminal jackets and provided a list of those we needed to take out first. What the hell were you doing on patrol? The dossier had pictures. Old ones, but—” Vost caught himself. “It’s irrelevant now.”

“It’s so frustrating when a mission goes bad due to personnel issues,” she murmured with a half smile.

“I think you’d agree that you owe me—”

Ah. Leverage. She jerked her chin, interrupting whatever offer he had been about to make. Her men surrounded the three mercs, and most of them had rifles. Funny how that worked out when Tam was planning the battles.

“That might be a strong word,” she said softly. “You did me a good turn with Silence. It could be argued that I saved your ass during the riot, before, and that we’re even now. But I’ll go one better, which means you’ll owe me. So find a quiet place to hide. If you come hunting my people, it won’t end well.”

“We both know I don’t have the manpower to go on the offensive, and there’s nobody here I could recruit.”

She nodded at that. “Mungo and his monsters will be dead before the day is out. That only leaves Silence, and her people would die before helping you.”

“They’ll die anyway,” Tam said.

Dred aimed a quiet smile at the spymaster. “One problem at a time.”

Vost didn’t need to think long. “Very well. We’ll talk another time. I’ll accept your offer of safe passage and withdraw.”

“I hope mercy wasn’t a mistake,” Tam said, watching the mercs move off.

She shrugged. “Me too. But he could’ve shot me in the back. The fact that he didn’t makes me wonder what he’s plotting. And how I figure in.”

“Seems like he’s trying to build up some goodwill,” Tam observed. “The only question is why.”

Keelah caught up to them then, along with a few surviving men. Beside Dred, Tam froze, his whole body locked in a posture of regret. Shit.

Then to Dred’s astonishment, the spymaster dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “I’m so sorry. It was my failure. My life is in your hands.”

Before Dred could snap at him for being hasty, Keelah pulled Tam to his feet. “I knew. The bond between life mates is such that I felt him go. Whatever happened, he fought beside you of his own choosing. I hold you blameless.”

“I don’t.” Tam’s voice broke. “I wasn’t cautious enough or sharp enough. I make mistakes, and people die all around me.”

Keelah inclined her head, somber and grave. “That’s the nature of this place.”

42

Death of a Cannibal

There was no time to waste. A few hours ago, they had gotten word of Katur’s death, but nobody could spare a moment for a service right now. Too many attackers, not enough defenders, and still more coming in. Dred had put Jael in charge of some Queenslanders, kissed him hard, and gone to fight on the other side of the territory.

Dred could look after herself; she’d managed fine before his arrival. It was hubris to imagine she needed him to protect her. Especially now. She’s as tough as you are.

That thought filled him with both reassurance and unease. What need would she have for him once the fighting stopped? Like a magician with one poor trick, now that he’d taught it to someone else, the demand for his services was sure to drop. Deeper in the station, he heard sirens blaring. Things had gotten so chaotic that he was no longer sure where the main battle was. The fire-extinguishing system engaged, spraying the corridor with water, though this wasn’t where the fires were burning. Men lay lifeless at his feet, but this was a momentary respite. The ones Dred had assigned to him were all dead.

Someone stepped out of the smoke, and he brought up his blades. He dropped them when he recognized Keelah. The female had been grim and uncommunicative since her mate’s death. Blood matted her fur, but he didn’t think much of it belonged to her. The water dripped through her pelt and came out tinged pink, running off down the faintly sloped metal floor.

“You all right?” he asked.

He told himself Dred was fine. Don’t worry about her.

She ignored the pleasantries. “Just mopping up. But there’s a group ahead that’s too big for me to handle on my own.”

“Is it what’s left of Mungo’s mongrels?”

Keelah nodded. “They’re quite mad. Even more than they were if you can fathom.”

“Pretty hard to believe. I’m with you. How many?”

“About twenty, I think.”

“You think the two of us can take them?”

“I’ve seen you fight. As long as they don’t have rifles, we should be fine.”

“Now there’s a terrifying thought.”

“You’re not afraid,” Keelah said. “For that, you’d have to fear death.”

He stared at her, astounded by her perspicacity. “You’re wrong, I do fear death.”

Her liquid eyes held a weight of unwelcome knowledge. “Just not your own. It’s worse when you lose someone you love.”

I don’t love her. But the words stuck in his throat, and there, they fluttered like the wings of panicked birds. Surely there was another name for the prickly barbs that twined him ever closer to Dred. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to speak the repudiation aloud. Keelah turned away, apparently losing interest in the conversation.

“We should go mop up,” he finally said.

The mongrels were looting. They had found one of the stashes that had belonged to the Warren and were rooting through the crates like animals. Jael found them disquieting because they had devolved to the point that they mostly communicated in gestures and grunts. He’d heard a few of them form actual words, but most didn’t bother. Their time in Perdition had turned them into lower primates.