Perdition (The Dred Chronicles) (13 page)

Dred lifted a shoulder, apparently unconcerned by his criticism. “It’s the best I could do on short notice. This whole Dread Queen business is all rubbish, as I’m sure you’ve guessed.”

“You seem plenty tough to me. And the men believe in you. That’s all that matters.” He hesitated, then added, “If you win their hearts and minds, the bodies follow. They’ll do impossible things because they believe in your legend and want to live up to it. You’re the woman who can accomplish the impossible, raid unreachable locales, and read their minds.”

“Careful,” she said sharply. “You’re being kind. We discussed my objection to that.”

“I’m not, actually. I’m being honest. It’s rare enough that I understand why you’d be confused, though.” The fragile smile persisted; he couldn’t kill it or drive it away.

Nothing had changed that he could detect. Not her expression or manner. Not her scent, as if she were secretly frightened of him. Then, inwardly he scoffed at the notion. Dred was as fierce and dangerous a woman as he’d encountered. And she didn’t frighten easily.

“Thanks for the explanation.” She folded to her feet, obviously ready to conclude the interview.

Jael found he didn’t want to leave. That was a . . . unique development.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I ended up in here?”

Dred shook her head. “I needed to understand why you’re nearly fragging indestructible so I can best deploy that aptitude. Beyond that, it’s your business.”

“No curiosity?”

She read him like a book. “Look, if you
want
to tell me, if it’ll put you at ease to treat me like a holy confessor, go for it.”

“There’s nothing holy about you, queenie, but you sure are divine.”

The woman laughed, falling back into her chair with a graceful motion. “Were you expecting some particular payout with that line? You have my undivided attention. Explain how you ended up on the prison transport.”

“Just to make you laugh,” he said. “And look, it worked. As for the how . . . it’s fairly simple. I worked as a merc for turns. Killed a lot of people. I ended up in this oddball crew . . .” He trailed off, trying to decide how to explain his tenure with Sirantha Jax. It had been so long that the galaxy might’ve forgotten her by now. His need for vengeance had cooled, too.

For long turns in the Bug prison, he’d reflected on how he’d make her pay, should he ever catch up with her, but since ending up in Perdition, he’d decided not to waste turns chasing a pipe dream. Once he broke out of this hellhole, it was time to try something new. But Jael didn’t kid himself it would be easy. He’d had a look at the ship’s defenses now, and they had damn near cracked him in two.

“Odd how?”

“I dunno. Almost like a family, I guess.”

“You didn’t fit?”

“That’s the thing,” he said softly. “I could have, I think. But I was too quick to assume they’d sell me out, given the chance.”

“So you shot first,” she guessed.

“Yeah. It didn’t end well. I did time on Ithiss-Tor. Then they extradited me in exchange for some Ithtorian POWs. The Science Corp snatched me up, ran another series of tests. They kept me under such heavy sedation, I didn’t know shit until just before they put me down.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, reaching toward him in an abortive moment, then her hands returned to her lap. “Clearly it didn’t take.”

“Pretty much. Imagine the morgue tech’s surprise when I crawled out of the slot they put me in to await autopsy.”

“What happened then?”

“I convinced them I was too valuable to destroy. They decided it was best to confine me here, where I’d be under complete lockdown, but within reach if they need me to run more experiments. And here I am. Charming story, right?”

“Unusual, definitely.”

He had no idea what he sought from her, not expiation or forgiveness, something else. Understanding, maybe. He’d never had that. Warmth trickled through him as he processed the fact that she absolutely wasn’t afraid or revolted. So far as he could tell, nothing had changed in her response to him despite what she’d learned about his origins. It unhinged his tongue after decades of silence and secrecy.

Jael went on, “My name? It’s the initials of the doctor who made me. Jurgin Landau.”

“It doesn’t matter where you started,” she said. “Or what you’ve been through. That shit just means you’re strong. In here, if you’re tough enough, you dub yourself whatever you want. You think anybody called me Dread Queen before? I made that happen. So can you . . . because from where I’m sitting, you look pretty damn special, and not because of the fast healing.”

At her words, the warmth turned into longing too fierce to deny. So he kissed her.

21

Death Sends Word

It wasn’t a hard kiss, more of a question. His lips were soft, tentative, as they moved over hers. The warmth felt unexpectedly good. Yet she sensed that Jael expected to be rebuffed, then he’d attribute the rejection to what she’d just learned about him. Since Dred knew what lurked beneath his charming exterior, she couldn’t do it. The kiss bloomed into a soft and heated exchange, breaths shared, a glide of tongues and nibble of teeth. Her body flared to life as he settled her closer. He rocked against her, and the fit was
so
good. Dred flattened a palm on his chest to force some distance between them, feeling his heart race. He actually groaned from that light touch, his head tilted back. She had no idea why she didn’t resist when he took her hand and slid it lower.

You should stop this. You can’t afford distraction.

But his approach wasn’t forceful or demanding. He wanted nothing of her but this, she suspected. Dred couldn’t resist reading him, just a quick glimpse, but she saw only raw desire crackling keenly along the edges of old sorrow. So she slid her fingers inside his trousers and watched his face as she touched him. “Yes?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

Those were the only words they spoke during those odd, intimate moments. It didn’t take long for him to arch and moan her name. She stepped back and gave him a moment to collect himself. Her breathing was unsteady as she washed her hands, but she was composed by the time she finished.

“Is that how you react to all such conversations?” she wondered aloud.

“There haven’t been any like this. And if you hadn’t touched another soul in thirty turns, you’d be easy, too.” His lashes drifted up, blue eyes sharp with an ache she’d never seen in a human being. Jael collapsed on her bunk, looking rather ravaged.

It took all her self-control not to pounce.
So it’s been that long.
Of all the strange and shocking things he’d shared, that one startled her the most.

“How
old
are you?”

He named a date. “That was when they started the IGP. I was created ten turns in.”

After Dred did the math, she wondered if he was screwing with her. If not for his unusual physiology, she’d be sure he was. “You’re saying you’re over a hundred turns.”

He shrugged. “I’ve aged well.” His expression turned inscrutable, then he added, “I’m sorry, by the way. I shouldn’t have started this with you. I promised myself I wouldn’t.”

She took the apology at face value though she wondered why. It also made her even more determined to level the ground between them. She didn’t share confidence; she never had. Even Tam and Einar didn’t know her story, but she’d closed her eyes while listening to him, and Jael’s colors stayed steady. Generally, that meant he was telling the truth, and she felt like that bravery required something in return. Since she had no intention of investing in an actual relationship in here—that way lay madness and danger—she’d given him the honesty of a moment’s physical contact. She had nothing else to offer.

Then she yielded to the impulse to give something back. She didn’t want him walking out of this encounter feeling like half a person. “I’m from a small colony in the Outskirts.”

Funny how just saying that brought her past to life. So easily she could picture the prefab corrugated metal buildings and the frontier feel. People went about their business with weapons on their hips because there were native beasts on that ball of rock that would eat you, given half a chance. There were other dangers, too. Pretty much everyone who ended up on Tehrann was hiding from something—or someone—one way or another. Dred hadn’t let herself think of her parents in turns, not even to wonder whether they were still alive.

Jael sat up, visibly startled by the confidence, and part of her wanted to push him back and seek refuge in physicality instead. But it would be a lie, albeit an enjoyable one, and she . . . respected him too much for that. He deserved better than cowardice wrapped in sex, especially since she had no intention of letting him touch her heart. Her body was one thing; it had been used as a commodity so often that she wasn’t sure she had it in her to offer more. Better to offer esteem and friendship.

So she went on, “I think I mentioned that my father was a scientist though that wasn’t what he did on Tehrann. My mother was frightened all the time.”

“Comes with the territory when Sci-Corp is hunting you.”

“I hated it there. It was so isolated, so quiet. There were only four hundred people in our settlement, few of them children.”

“You must’ve been lonely.”

She was conscious of the irony, given what he’d suffered. Dred glossed over that with a shrug. “At eighteen I’d had enough. I found a freighter in dock that was down one hand. I signed on for board, minimal pay, and the chance to see the universe.”

His mouth quirked in what wasn’t a smile. “How did that work out for you?”

“It was . . . bad from the first.” She swallowed the sick tide that accompanied the memories. “On Tehrann, there was nobody who set off my sensors. There, I was normal, more or less. But as soon as I came aboard the ship, I had an . . . episode.”

“One of the crew?” he guessed.

“Yes. At the time I didn’t understand what was happening. Everyone else seemed to like the man fine, but I found it hard to be in the same room with him. I ran every chance I got, which only piqued his interest more.”

“It would. So what happened? Did you kill him?” By his tone, he hoped so.

“No. I wasn’t that person, then. Instead I jumped ship as soon as I could, but it wasn’t better in a larger port. More people got into my head and showed me their crimes.”

“How did you stand it?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t. I went a bit mad. Then I decided if I could see what they were doing, I could punish them, too. That worked fairly well for a while. Then they caught me.”

“So that’s how you ended up in here?”

Dred shook her head. “Not at first. But I wasn’t . . . cooperative in the general prison where they sent me. There were . . . problems.” That was all she intended to share at the moment.

“Then you were shipped here as the ultimate punishment.”

“That’s it. No daylight. No parole. I have eight lifetimes on my sentence.”

Jael smiled. “I don’t have one. A sentence, that is. This is just the warehouse where they decided to store me.” Then he added, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to use your san-shower.”

For obvious reasons.

She nodded, and he slipped into the tiny cubicle set aside for hygiene. As she stood to leave, Tam strode into her quarters, looking purposeful. “The Speaker has arrived from Entropy. He has word from Silence.”

Though she desperately craved a wash and hot meal, Dred nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

The spymaster nodded. “Be quick. I have no doubt he’s making note of every detail to report to Silence when he returns.”

That’s all I need.

Tam led her to the center of the hall, where the Speaker waited. In this setting, away from the horror that was Entropy, he looked no less frightening. Despite the fact that it had been a hard fight for several of them to reach Silence, he stood there alone. Dred didn’t know what to make of that; if it was a boast or a warning. She was inclined to take it as a bit of both.

“Speaker,” she said, inclining her head.

Though she hadn’t discussed protocol with Tam, she knew he wouldn’t want her to bow. This wasn’t Silence; therefore, he wasn’t her equal. Or so the story went. For herself, she didn’t care, but apparently the details made a difference, and it kept Queensland safe.

“Hungry?” she asked, hoping the man would admit to a human need so she could eat.

The Speaker shook his head. “I am here for but one reason—to impart Her words. She says, ‘Make ready, for in one week, we will cleanse Perdition of the false god.’”

That must mean we’re going after Priest.

“What’s the battle plan?” Dred wished Silence had discussed it with her, instead of informing her like a lackey, but she needed the alliance and couldn’t cavil at the delivery system.

“She anticipated that question.” The Speaker set a sheaf of paper in her palm. “Read it. Follow your portion of the attack strategy to the letter. And there will be no survivors in Abaddon.”

A chill ran through her. As Dred bent her head to read, the Speaker turned. She didn’t attempt to call him back. The less she had to do with Silence’s people, the better. Skimming the document led her to realize two things—Silence was, indeed, undeniably insane, but she was also an evil genius. Tam put out a hand when she finished, and she gave him the pages.

“Thoughts?” she prompted, once he finished.

“It’s risky. And she’s given us the lion’s share of the open combat. The force that stands at the gate banging to get in will take the most casualties.”

Dred nodded. “Can we trust her?”

If they committed their forces to a full, open assault on Abaddon, so many things could go wrong. It would leave Queensland vulnerable, so there might be nothing to return to, though the defensive measures they’d acquired down in the salvage bay would offset the risk. Executing this mad scheme required most of the manpower at Dred’s disposal; only a skeleton crew would remain behind to guard their territory. If Silence was so inclined, she could tip off Grigor, and Dred would be done.

“I don’t know,” Tam said softly. “But I’m positive we can’t trust Grigor and Priest. If we wait much longer, we’ll have their combined might knocking at our figurative gates. I’d prefer an offensive where we control the numbers we’re facing.”

“Provided Silence doesn’t sell us out.”

“That’s the key question,” Tam agreed.

“Look, I’m not deciding anything on an empty stomach. Assemble the others.” Tam would know she meant Einar, Ike, and Wills. “We’ll have a meeting in my quarters in an hour. Bring food.”

The spymaster bowed with ironic servility. “It will be as you command, my queen.”

Jael joined her as Tam moved off. “I just realized he’s taking the piss with pretty much everything he says to you.”

“You thought he was truly in awe, believed he wasn’t worthy to kiss the toe of my boot?” Dred raised a brow.

“Nuances sometimes escape me,” he admitted. “But now I see that he likes and respects you, but there’s nothing . . . humble about it.”

“Not in the least,” she agreed.

She turned then and headed for her quarters. A san-shower made her feel like a new woman though she was careful with the water. Two minutes later, she stepped out and dressed in her customary black leather pants and a thin shirt. The fabric was a dingy gray, worn from multiple washings. But at least it was clean.

Dred checked the time, then stretched out on her bunk, hands behind her head. A knot formed in her stomach as she considered the risk of Silence’s plan. At base, it was simple; Queensland provided the distraction while Entropy came in from behind. The silent killers would execute many of Priest’s people before they even realized security had been compromised, as they would be focused on dealing with the obvious threat Dred’s people presented at the front.

So many things could go wrong.