Havoc (Dred Chronicles 2)

It was hours before the Peacemaker fell permanently silent. During that time, they drove off two more runs at the garden and killed even more rebels. The body count had to be astronomical by this point. Jael piled the enemies away from Vix and Zediah; it was the least he could do, given that he hadn’t really tried to save them.

At last, Dred strode down the blood-streaked hall toward them. Her chains were crusted dark brown, her face smudged with soot and weariness. But resolve shone from undimmed eyes. “It’s over. You two can stand down.”

The RC unit beeped and circled in her wake, and a light went off in Jael’s head. Dammit, I completely forgot. Belatedly, he told her what they’d learned from Ike’s bot. With the constant chaos and attacks coming from all sides, it had been impossible to spare the men to track them down, then Jael had forgotten about it. The unit was standing by, ready to lead them to his cache the minute things settled down.

On hearing the good news, she actually smiled. It seemed like ages since he’d seen that expression on her face and felt like she wasn’t faking the look for the good of the zone.

Martine went off to check on Tam, leaving them alone.

“You all right?” Dred asked, checking him for wounds.

And it broke something in him, that despite the purple shadows beneath her eyes that he knew indicated she wasn’t sleeping well, she’d still ask after his mental health. He didn’t think she remembered how to do anything except solve other people’s problems. The Dread Queen was sucking the life out of her, bit by bit, and it killed him to see it happen.

I have to get her out of here. That can’t be another of my quick-patter bullshit promises. This one, I have to keep.

“Yeah. But you’re not.”

To his surprise, she didn’t deny it. In the guttering light from the tetchy fluorescent, her face was pale and soft, faintly shadowed, so that he could only see the glint of her eyes, but not the color. Her hair fell in a dark swath against her cheek, moon and night. The poetry of that contrast compelled him to lift a hand to her cheek.

She leaned infinitesimally into the touch. “You sure about that?”

“I don’t think Tam and crew have noticed. But you can’t fool me.”

“I’m going through the motions,” she said at length. “Saying the right words. Making the moves that might keep us alive, but I’m so fragging tired.”

Her words struck him like a barrage of rifle shots, burning through his emotional shields. Jael felt her exhaustion as if it radiated from his own body. That was how deep she’d burrowed inside him. The emotion resonated, kindling an ache as though she tapped a thousand crystals, all singing the same mournful tune. Distance showed in the slope of her cheek, the delicate shadow of her lashes. Such fine details to notice; he cataloged such minutiae about everyone, every day, and it only mattered when it was Dred.

“It’s bullshit how much weight you carry, love.” His voice contained more gravel than he’d expected, and he cleared his throat.

She shrugged. “I’ll do what I must. And it helps to have you here. I can’t talk like this with anyone else.”

“I’d want to kill him if you did.”

“That’s us, ever spinning through a cycle of love and death.” Her mordant expression yielded to surprise when Jael kissed her. “What was that for?”

“You’ll figure it out. Let’s catch up with the others.”

45

Sympathy for the Devil

There are so few of us left.

Eight hours later, Dred glanced around at the smoldering wreckage left over from the riots, char marks on floor and walls. The survivors were piling corpses to be sent down the chute with numb efficiency, supervised by Martine and Calypso, who came out of the last battle with a gash in her side, but she was strong, and it should heal.

Dred and Jael had parted ways to oversee repairs, partly because they needed him elsewhere and partly because she couldn’t lean on him too much. The Queenslanders left needed her to be strong. At last count, Mungo’s men had been exterminated completely; she had a less-comprehensive idea of how many of Silence’s assassins had survived the slaughter. That would probably come back to haunt them, but she lacked the energy to care at the moment.

Jael found her a few minutes later as she went to work with the rest of the cleaning crew. She hadn’t slept in days, and she wouldn’t until Queensland was back in order. A new set of mercs might arrive anytime, and she knew they didn’t have the manpower to repeat this defense of the station. Next time, they wipe us out. That awareness rendered the victory bittersweet. He pulled her away from the others and drew her to him. The kindness of the gesture almost brought her to her knees. People didn’t console the Dread Queen.

Except him.

“We’re doomed,” she said softly. “And now we’re just marking time.”

“This thinned the herd, right enough.”

Resting against his chest, she couldn’t see his face. “I can’t help but wonder what’s the point. I can put everything back together, but no more supplies are coming. When the mercs don’t return and report the place clear, they’ll hire more and send them in.”

“Then we need to make sure we’re not here when they arrive.”

“This again,” she said with a growl of impatience. “You know, at this point, I’m ready to call your optimism insanity. Tam blew the transport, remember? To kill a bunch of mercs. And the docking bay is now sealed off from the rest of the station.”

“We’re actually better off than we were, love.”

She frowned at him. “What are you talking about? Look at this place.”

“It’s a wreck, yeah, but the mercs cleared out most of our enemies. Apart from Silence’s crew, everything here belongs to us now. It will be easier for us to stockpile resources. The powers that be are sure that they removed everything we could use to escape, yeah? But they couldn’t have foreseen we’d end up with the run of the place like this.”

To Dred, it sounded like clutching at straws. “That’s true, but—”

“But nothing. Tam and I will scour all decks from top to bottom. If there’s anything we can use to get some of the old machinery spaceworthy, we’ll find it.”

“You’re seriously proposing to build a ship from scrap parts. Before they send a second team.”

“Do you have a better idea? I suppose we could retire to your quarters and shag until they come for us. I can think of worse ways to go. But personally, I think that’d be a shocking waste of our potential.”