Havoc (Dred Chronicles 2)

She drew her laser pistol but before she had to fire it, loyalists attacked the men facing her and the circle faltered. “Go,” one of them yelled. “Get clear!”

It wasn’t a question of whether she could win the fight, only that some of these men still believed in her right to lead. That had to be enough. Quickly, Dred scanned the room. They had to fight to the throne without killing or maiming too many loyal Queenslanders. Just as she was trying to figure out how to make that happen, Jael grabbed her gloved hand and towed her toward the throne. The remote felt heavy in her palm; this would probably be a massacre, one that could be laid directly at her door.

What kind of person are you if you can lose track of how many you’ve killed?

Jael and Tam laid down fire behind them, keeping the men from pushing too close. The warning shots were effective, as most people couldn’t absorb a laser blast—one shot, and the target went into shock. It was rare for a victim to die of the burns.

A man lurched into her path, and she tried to move around him, but he lunged at her eyes with a knife. No helmet. Damn. She pistol whipped him in the face, then kicked him back so she could shoot him. She unloaded while taking hits from behind. Jael tried to block for her, but she shouted at him over her shoulder.

“I’m wearing armor, you idiot.”

“Ah, your words of love and dulcet tones never fail to enchant me.”

Tam’s voice was dry. “Should I leave you two alone?”

A hard shove rocked her, and she stumbled forward. “Please don’t.”

Before her loomed a man with broken yellow teeth and a mad look in his eyes. He looked strong enough to snap her neck, so when Jael called out, “Get down,” she dropped without hesitation, giving him a clean shot, and he took the bastard through the head.

Bodies shoved against her, and she tried not to think how many of them were trying to kill her. She just had to press forward until she got to the throne. Someone had started a fire somewhere—that always seemed to happen during a riot, and if the station emergency system didn’t kick in soon, they’d all asphyxiate. Her eyes burned from the chemical fumes wafting in lazy spirals, but she couldn’t spare the time to dash away the tears. They collected on her chin, dripping down to her armored chest. Four wounds burned in a low, constant throb: shoulder, left arm, thigh, right flank, but she could feel a tickling tingle from where they were starting to heal.

Thanks, Jael. Leg still hurts like a bitch.

She lashed out with a kick to clear the rest of the way—so close now—but her weak leg buckled. She went down hard. Somehow, she held on to the remote, even with three enraged Queenslanders who were ready to rip her apart attacking, so she popped the closest one with her laser pistol. The red power meter on the side said she had fewer than five shots left. As Jael and Tam took aim at the other two, one of them cracked her in the head. The blow made her head wink black spangled with the old gold of ancient stars interspersed with white-hot sparks.

She kept the pistol in her hand, even on the ground. Dred swept with her good leg and knocked one of them down. Prone, the enemy was clumsy, buying her time to shoot. He died writhing like a worm on his back. The other lunged, and she rolled, then crawled toward the scrap-metal throne.

44

Garden of Evil

Jael shot the Queenslander chasing Dred.

The common area swarmed with men. At this moment, Jael missed Einar. The big man could clear some space with a few, casual swings. Without him, the battle was tighter and more chaotic. Most of their best fighters had gone down in other sorties, so at least he wasn’t squared off against pure talent. These were desperate men with nothing to lose. Or so they thought.

The situation can always get worse.

He flashed to days on Nicu Tertius, thigh deep in mud and walking on the corpses of his comrades as their bodies built a bridge the survivors used to scramble to higher ground. To this day, he couldn’t stand in the rain with soft ground under his feet without imagining that the earth was churning with the bones of the dead. With effort, he fixed his vision on the melee all around him. The distraction cost him a slice across his ribs, another invisible scar.

“We can’t let them wear us down,” Jael said, parrying a lunge and breaking the arm of the man who tried it.

Tam said, “I agree. If our numbers get too low, Silence will kill us all in our sleep.”

Fortunately, their side had the better weapons and armor. Dred was wearing one of the suits at the moment; Tam and Martine had the others. Vaulting onto the throne, the Dread Queen brought up her pistol and took aim as a mad-eyed Queenslander charged. The laser blast caught him in the chest, sizzled, and stopped him. His body tripped a couple of his fellows.

“There’s only one way to end this quick,” he said. “You have to do it.”

Nodding, Dred pressed the button on the remote and deployed the Peacemaker. He’d never imagined she’d use it on her own people. Their unit had solid plating and two different heavy weapons, one on each arm: laser gun and Shredder. It limped these days, and the repair work they’d cobbled together after Ike’s death left it half-assed effective, but it would be enough to strike fear in the hearts of the traitors.

The mech lumbered in, warning the dissidents in indifferent, electronic tones. “You are guilty of civil disobedience. This scene will be pacified. To avoid bodily harm, desist and vacate the area.” It paused a few seconds to let that sink in, then added, “Countdown commencing.”

“If you’re with us, get clear,” Dred shouted. “I don’t want any of my people harmed.”

Her men stopped fighting at once and ran for the exits in all directions while she jumped down and took shelter behind the shield provided by the scrap-metal throne. Jael ran with her, though he could probably survive the attack. No point in wasting his healing power, though; it made more sense to marshal his strength. When the mech reached zero, it sprayed the room with a relentless ballistic onslaught. The rounds were old-fashioned but effective, especially against unarmored targets.

Dred tapped his shoulder. “Find Martine. Get to the hydroponics garden and don’t let anyone inside. You two defend it, I’ll hold down the fort here.”

They wouldn’t last long without the fresh food growing in the garden, so he took off right away, dodging the barrage the Peacemaker unloaded in his direction. By this point, the common room was almost clear apart from one man trying to crawl away in a smear of blood. Bullets sprayed the floor as Jael ran, pinging in sparks off the metal flooring. He dove for the hallway, came up in a roll, and sprang away.