Havoc (Dred Chronicles 2)

Before she could reply, Martine strode up. “The bodies are loaded and ready. Did you want to say a few words? Just so the men feel better about the mass dumping.”

Dred wasn’t in the mood to be inspiring, but she knew the other woman was right. She told Jael with her eyes that the discussion wasn’t over, then moved to the center of the common room and vaulted up on top of the throne Artan had built. Even more than usual, it seemed like a ridiculous affectation, for she was so obviously the empress of nothing.

Just a few tired convicts, beyond any real hope.

“Our people fought bravely,” she said. “The outside world wouldn’t expect it because they threw us away. They decided we were too broken for fixing, but to me, they were all warriors defending their homes. Going into this fight, I would’ve said there was no way we could win. The mercs had all of the advantages. But we did what we do best, what we always do when the odds are stacked against us. We put our shoulders in and pushed.”

“Damn right,” someone shouted.

“Who are we?” she asked softly.

“Queensland!”

“What’s stopping us?”

“Nothing!”

“I commend these warriors to the next world, where I hope there’s plenty of liquor and laughter to keep them out of trouble.”

A cheer rose from the assembled men, and she hopped down from the throne to accompany Martine and Jael, who were guiding the hover dolly, groaning beneath the weight of their dead. Cook was on that pile, a man she’d never guessed would turn, but the promise of freedom had been too much for him. She wished she could’ve explained to him that even if he had been among the last five prisoners standing, the mercs didn’t intend to honor the deal they’d made. It was a ploy, nothing more, a carrot offered to stupid brutes.

Silently, the three of them unloaded the dead until she was sweaty, and her back was sore. Queensland had once had a couple of hundred citizens; now they were down to fewer than fifty. The station seemed to echo with silence, each deck deserted, full of traps laid by men who had died before their cunning could be fully realized. That would make exploration tricky, but she had faith in Tam’s and Jael’s ability to circumvent static defenses. She mustered less confidence in the idea they could cobble together a ship fast enough to escape the next death squad. Even though the mercs had failed in their mission, there were so few prisoners left that it could almost be counted a win.

“That’s the last of them,” Martine said.

Dred nodded her thanks. “You’ve earned a break. Get some rest . . . or whatever.”

“If I was smart, I’d snatch some bunk time, but who the hell’s a genius up in here? I think I’ll get drunk instead.” Martine flashed a roguish smile, laced with faint menace by the glimpse of her pointed teeth.

“Have at it,” Jael said, watching the other woman go. Then he turned to Dred, but whatever he might’ve said was forestalled by footsteps, not coming from the heart of Queensland but from the corridors leading from other areas of the station. Jael stepped in front of Dred, a move she would’ve protested if she wasn’t already watching the corner with chains in her hands. When the merc commander eased into view, helmet off, she pushed out a shocked breath. For once, his men weren’t with him.

He left them behind in case things went bad. More proof he was a good commander who cared about those who served under him. And it made him much harder to dismiss.

“Come for a quick death?” Jael asked politely.

Vost shook his head. “I came to make a deal.”

Dred laughed. “What could you possibly offer that we’d want, after what you tried to do here?”

“Transport codes.”

She froze, exchanging a look with Jael, whose infinitesimal nod seemed to indicate he thought she should hear more. “What’re you talking about?”

“The docking bay they use for supplies isn’t the only one on this station. You haven’t been able to get to any of them because of the blast doors and force fields. But I hacked the mainframe. It’s glitched as hell, and it doesn’t work all across the station, like it’s supposed to, but I checked. I can turn off the automated defenses and unseal the secondary docking area. If we come to an agreement, and you ensure I get there safely, we can leave here together.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then look at this.” Moving slowly, he produced a drone cam and powered it on.

She peered at the grainy image on the tiny display. Though the footage was shaky, it was clear the little spy bot had penetrated a part of the station no convict had ever reached; the supplies and parts shown in a casual sweep of the docking bay made that obvious. The drone flew all around the room, peering into all corners; and then she saw the faded warning. DOCKING BAY 4: TAKE ALL PRECAUTIONS IN OPENING HANGAR DOORS. They still needed a ship, but if Tam and Jael could cobble something together, as he seemed to think, then Vost held their exit pass.

If I believe he can get us in there.

“So your drone slipped in through some tiny air vents,” Jael said. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

Dred considered the odds that Vost had actually hacked the mainframe. If that was possible, Tam would’ve figured out a way. But she wasn’t sure because she recalled that odd Monsanto announcement they’d never heard before.

But she couldn’t seem to yield too quickly. “I think you’re bluffing. All transport codes were wiped before they sent the first prisoners to Perdition.”

“To a cursory inspection, yes. But there are always fragmented data packets, hidden caches of information, backups hidden on remote servers. They didn’t hire the best to scrub the system.” Vost met her eyes, his gaze a pale and icy green. “Can you afford to assume that I’m lying? From what I’ve seen, you can’t withstand another assault, and it’s not like you can bolster your numbers.”

That’s true, damn him. This is what Tam guessed before—why he wanted to establish some favor with me though he couldn’t resist stirring the pot when things were at their worst. With a scowl, she remembered that announcement during the riots. It was no telling how many more of her men had died because of Vost dangling that carrot once again.

But he needed that to happen. He needed me desperate enough to make a deal.

Jael leaned in to whisper, “He knows he can’t hide indefinitely—Silence’s people or ours will find him before long. He’s also aware that he’ll likely be killed without our protection before he finds a way off station. He needs us. His pulse tells me he’s relatively calm, and I don’t smell the stink of lies on him.”