Breakout (14 page)

Breathless and aching, Jael tangled a hand in her hair, brought her mouth to his, and whispered the only truth he knew:

“I love you. More than life itself.”

15

A Pretty Web of Scars

Jael's words filled Dred with a deep and incandescent joy, so out of keeping with this place. She dropped her voice low, just in case anyone else was awake. “I've never said it before. But I love you, too.”

She didn't mention how difficult the last five days had been, taking care of him in such basic facilities. Tam and Keelah had scrubbed sheets and helped her change the bedding, often more than once a day. At one point, none of the other beds had sheets or blankets because they were all stained with blood or vomit—that or hanging up to dry.
I thought I might lose you . . . that Silence brought you too close to death.

So she'd whispered to him, threats and promises. And now, he was awake, alert.
Thank you, Mary.
Dred never had much faith—she'd seen too much horror—but Jael's recovery seemed miraculous, even considering his abilities.

“You say it like it's a dirty secret.”

“I just don't want to wake everyone else. They've been working hard.”

“While I was slacking.” The wry amusement in his tone prompted a reluctant smile from her as well.

Hardly able to believe she could, she traced his features lightly with one fingertip. “Do you . . . I mean, I know it was bad. I'll listen if you need to talk.”

“Ah, you're worried about my trauma, love? Back in the lab, Landau did terrible things twice before lunch. Sitting alone in a dark pit, nobody touching me, nobody talking, except the endless echo of Bug chitters?
That
was worse. I reckon I can handle pain better than isolation.”

Dred had the feeling he might be putting up a cheerful front, but she had no idea what to do about it. Forcing people to confront their true feelings? That wasn't in her skill set. So she only nodded and went in for a soft kiss. Touch was easier than talk anyway.

“You'll have scars,” she said.

To her surprise, he let out a relieved sigh. “Finally. It's not right to go through what I have and for it to leave no trace. For your sake, though, I hope she didn't ruin my pretty face.”

“Doesn't matter.” Her voice was gentle. “As long as you stay with me.”

“They couldn't pry me away with a hammer and chisel.”

“I'm glad to hear it.”

“Can you help me up? I have some pressing business in the san. Sorry to ruin the mood,” he added with a half smile.

“No, it's fine. Come on.”

They were quiet as they crept past the others; Dred lent him her shoulder because he was still weak. His body had exhausted itself and spent nearly all resources bringing him back from the brink. Since the sanitary was small, she barely fit inside with him once the door closed. Dred turned her back so he could use the facilities, then he squeezed past her to step into the shower. The light was better in here, and she counted over fifty scars, some slim and silver, others thick and purple.

“I can feel you looking,” he said. “So wash my back.”

His back was relatively unmarked, at least compared to the rest of him. She dipped her hand in the dry soap and let the water mist over it, just enough to reconstitute, then uncharacteristically, she did exactly as he asked.

“Don't get used to it.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

He was far too lean beneath her hands, no longer whipcord strong, but simply thin, most of the muscle burned away in the desperate quest to keep body and soul together. Her hands lingered on his shoulder blades, and she silently counted vertebrae with her fingertips, walking downward toward the scant curve of his bum. Jael smiled over his shoulder at her, rinsing off.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Like a dead man walking. Mary, I'm knackered. I don't remember recovery making me feel so wretched before.”

“That's because of me.”

“Worth it,” he said, turning off the trickle of water.

When he was dry, she handed him the clothes she'd scavenged. They were as clean as they could be, considering the circumstances, but from his expression at the stains, it was still slightly revolting. Since she'd found them moldering in a closet, she couldn't disagree. Hand washing in a bucket could only do so much.

To console him, she said, “When we get out of here, we'll buy something elegant to wear and eat at the poshest restaurant we can find.”

“Promises, promises. How're we affording such luxury?”

“Not through a life of crime, that much is sure.”

“Never tell me that Perdition's rehabbed you?” He aimed a look of mock astonishment her way.

“Near enough. I'll never do anything that could land me in a place like this again.” She no longer cared if the world was full of monsters. At best, hunting killers had saved a few lives while ruining her own. Now she had someone special to protect.

Jael grinned. “It'd be enough not to get caught.”

“You're madder than I thought if you'd risk another prison sentence.”

His levity faded, and he cupped her face in his hands. “You might think this is a strange warning, but there will always be danger if you stay with me. Anyone finds out what I am, I'll be rounded up again. I'm never, ever free because I carry the crime of my creation with me.”

“Ah,” she said. “Well, if they try to take you, then I'll do whatever it takes to stop them.”

“Whatever?” he breathed. “There you go again with such violent talk. What should I do? It's turning me on something fierce.”

She glanced down, his grubby replacement clothing still in hand. “So it is. But I thought you were tired.”

“Funny how it fades when you start talking about bloodletting on my behalf.”

“Everyone else is right outside,” she said softly. “And we don't have much space.”

He leaned in, dusting a kiss over her lower lip. “I can be quiet. Can you?”

She stepped closer. “I'm not sure. Let's find out.”

•   •   •

JAEL
couldn't believe it when Dred pulled off her shirt. There was hardly room for them to stand, damp sheets piled on the floor. Despite how bad he wanted her, he had no idea how this would work. He wasn't recovered enough to take her against the wall, but she seemed to realize this as she stepped out of her pants. She was deliciously, gloriously naked, and he hurt with wanting her. Need cramped his stomach and made him shake.

“This should work,” she whispered.

And draped a sheet across the san facilities, lid down. It wasn't elegant, but he sat eagerly, reaching for her when she took too long. She settled on his lap, all muscled strength and silken heat. Even her scars were beautiful to him. He knotted his hands in her hair, tugging until she let her head fall back to expose her throat. With lips and teeth and tongue, he marked her, first on the side of her neck, then the curve of her shoulder.

Shivers ran through her, but she didn't moan. Pleasure sparked in her green eyes, then her hands were all over him, stroking until he couldn't hide the shudders of sensation; they drove him to buck his hips, trying to get closer still. She answered his unspoken plea by lifting her hips, and it was the sweetest, simplest completion when he glided home. Her weight took them the rest of the way, and for long moments, he just held on to her, shivering with the silent intensity of that exquisite stillness. Then she began to move in tight, slow circles, somehow intuiting that he needed to be passive and that her body could partly eradicate the pain. He breathed in quick, shallow gasps, not even trying to control himself. Jael jerked each time she rolled her hips, enthralled and drowning in delight.

“Just tell me what you need,” she breathed right into his ear.

Another shiver wracked him. “Just you. And this.”

She still wants me. This isn't sympathy.

For her sake, he wanted to last longer, but he just couldn't. All too soon, he swelled and came, muffling the sound in the side of her neck. She was still soft and aroused, tense atop him, so he touched her with tender fingertips, reveling in how quickly she came undone when there had once been so much resistance to his touch. Now, she was all melting heat, breathless, helpless against him. The downside of that was how much it turned him on.

He was hard again by the time she calmed.

Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“It's your fault, love.”

“But can you really . . . ?”

“Not sure. Shall we find out?”

In response, she rode him slowly, patiently, as if she didn't believe he had any spark left in him, but she was willing to indulge him for a little while. He traced her cheeks, her lips, then framed her face in his hands. Dred gazed into his eyes as they moved together, the sweetest stare, then he slid his palms downward over her muscled biceps to the divot of her waist and the curve of her hips.

“Lean in a little,” he whispered.

She did, tilting forward so he could wrap his arms around her. Her breasts shifted against his chest, so much beautiful heat. His need kicked up a notch from a low thrum to definite drive. And she felt that sharpening inside her. Dred's movements increased on him.

“Good?”

He kissed her, hard. Her tongue moved against his, hungry, starving. She tasted like sunrise, freedom, and forever, maddening him because no matter how much of her he had, she always left him craving more. Her mouth flowered beneath his, becoming soft and swollen from the pressure, mirroring the shift of their bodies.

Give and take, slide and thrust.

“You can't really—” Her question cracked on a moan.

“Don't talk. Just feel me.”

Her breath came quicker, and he could tell when she lost the ability to think. She closed her eyes, hands digging into his shoulders. This time he didn't have to use his fingers at all.

His orgasm was more spirit than body, driven by her muffled cries, but it felt no less intense. In fact, it left him even more shaken, realizing that she could coax feats of pleasure from him that he hadn't even known he could experience.

I love you.

But it was too soon to say it again. Jael could hardly stand by the time Dred slipped off his lap. She had to help him dress, and he leaned on her to get back to the dormitory. The others were awake by then, waiting for a turn in the san, and he didn't even care. Their knowing smirks slid right off him as he collapsed on the bunk. She wouldn't let him pass out, however; Dred insisted he drink some water and suck down a serving of protein paste before she let him close his eyes. There were no monsters waiting for him in the dark this time. He only saw her face, uplifted in ecstasy, her mouth soft and open against his, panting her pleasure.

The mattress depressed when she sank down on the side of it; he felt her nearby, even before she touched him. Her hands on his head, stroking his hair gently, sent tingles down his spine. Jael smiled without opening his eyes.

“You should sleep a little more. If you'll be all right, I'll get to work with the others.” But she didn't move yet, waiting for his dismissal.

Oddly, it didn't rankle. He didn't care if she thought he was weak. He only cared that she'd offered to stay if he needed her.

“I'm fine,” he said.

There would be bad dreams waiting, more fuel for the nightmarish flames. But none of that mattered . . . because Dred loved him.

And he'd gladly walk through the fires of hell if she was waiting on the other side.

16

A Different Way to Die

In the days Dred had spent with Jael, the others had made some progress. Apparently, they had decided to convert the two maintenance rigs and were disassembling the back ends with the intent of welding the two together. The life-support systems would need to be overhauled, and it would be a tight fit inside—with primitive conditions—as even with jury-rigging, she couldn't imagine what facilities could be provided.

“Talk to me,” she said to Tam, who was inside one of the vehicles, banging around.

The spymaster stepped out, tools in hand. “I wish Ike were here.”

“Not what I meant.”

“Ah, so you're done with nursing, and you want a progress report?”

“Something like that. Will this thing even fly? It looks incredibly ungainly.”

“The aerodynamics are a problem. Steering will be a bitch unless I can figure out how to streamline the design. With the tools we have available, it won't be easy.”

Tam went over everything they'd accomplished so far, and it wasn't nearly enough. But with limited supplies and personnel, it was amazing they'd come even this far. She followed him inside the makeshift craft, having to hunch over where the two vehicles connected.

“Are you sure the solder point won't just break apart, the minute we launch?”

Tam proved he had a dark sense of humor. “Only one way to find out.”

“That's not funny.”

“I've reinforced it with struts here . . . and here. It's the best we can do.”

“Then it'll have to suffice. How's the life support coming?”

Vost answered that, sticking his head in through the cargo doors in the back. “I'm working on the computer, but I'm having a hard time overriding the eight-hour limit. Since nobody's supposed to be in here longer than a single work shift—”

“Have you tried a hard reset?” Tam cut in.

“That was the first thing I did.” The merc commander sounded disgruntled.

Dred smirked. “What do you think he is, an amateur?”

Tam smiled back. “Well,
I
am. Despite a rather colorful resume, I've never tried to cobble a ship together from this kind of junk.”

“This might be a last-resort option,” Dred said, “but maybe we could lift one of the life-support modules from the station and make it work?”

Vost shook his head. “It would be too big, even presuming you could cut it loose.”

“Then I guess you have to figure out how to change the eight-hour restriction,” she said.

“I'm working on it.” His scowl as he withdrew suggested he didn't like Dred's tone.

Ignoring Vost, she checked out the progress from stem to stern. In truth, the craft was strange-looking; in front, it was a two-seater, and the middle was completely open, cargo space converted clumsily to let people sprawl on the floor, then there were two seats at the back, from the other maintenance-rig cab. The others had done a credible job of fusing the machinery, but she didn't know if it would hold during launch . . . and there was no way to perform a thorough, rigorous stress test.

“What do you think?” she asked Tam.

“It'll be a miracle if we don't all die,” he said.

“That's what I thought.”

The spymaster hesitated. “But . . . I'd rather go out a free man than wait to be killed. I don't have that kind of resignation anymore.”

She nodded. “And I'd rather die in vacuum than let Silence or another merc team finish me off. So let's keep at it.”

Since Dred didn't have any particular skill at shipbuilding, she left the others to it and went to the control room. Outside, there were five of Silence's killers watching the door. What purpose that served, she had no idea, except to establish that Silence knew where they were.
We can definitely take a squad of five, though, so it's not even an impediment to our movements.
As she was trying to figure it out, the men slipped out of camera view like dark shadows. That was somewhat eerie because there might be more—all the surviving assassins, even—hiding nearby.

As long as we can finish up in here, we don't
have
to leave.

Dred wished she had a better angle, but she couldn't figure out how to tap into station security from here. As far as she could tell, the systems were limited to the docking bay. Sighing, she picked up the handheld and skipped back to the first message. The date on the vid indicated these logs were forty turns old.

The same woman from before appeared, much brighter-faced and practically humming with enthusiasm. “This is my first long assignment. My father swears he had nothing to do with my Monsanto posting, and I hope he's telling the truth. Nepotism is no way to start your career.”

Aw, how cute. She's a little idealist.

She watched the rest of that vid, but it was mostly cheerful speculation about what the woman would be doing on a mineral-refinery station. The second log was a little more subdued, talking about the grim atmosphere on station and the lack of amenities.
Yeah, reality has that effect on all of us.
A random person's life probably wouldn't make for thrilling entertainment, so she set the device aside, marveling that it still worked after all this time.

A problem occurred to her then, and she rushed from the control room to the hangar floor. Tam popped his head out of the ship as Dred approached. “Something wrong?”

“Has anyone figured out what we're eating on board?”

“We can make a lot of paste before we take off,” he said.

“We can't install the Kitchen-mate?”

Tam shook his head. “It would weigh us down and take up too much space. The bottom line is, we could run out of food before we get out of this system. There's no way to rig this thing with a grimspace drive.”

She sighed. “And even if we could, we don't have a jumper.”

It was looking more all the time like this “escape” was just a different way to die.

•   •   •

WHEN
Jael woke up this time, he felt both recovered and alert. He crawled out of his bunk and staggered to the san. Afterward, he found everyone else working on the ship. He'd seen shuttles, crashed escape pods, ships too beat-up to salvage. And this one was worse than any he'd ever encountered.
There's no way this thing will fly.
Technically, he supposed it didn't have to. Simple propulsion would guide it out of the docking bay, but then what?

He strode toward the work crew, answering their greetings with a raised hand. “How much fuel do we have?”

From their expressions, it seemed like he'd asked an astonishing question. Or maybe they were just shocked to see him back from the dead. On second thought, it was probably that. But none of them interrogated him about it. Just as well. He wouldn't have answered. It was impossible to trust people with a secret like his, so they could wonder.

Vost answered. “Not much. Sixteen hours in the combined tanks. I haven't been able to find any spare canisters.”

Jael nodded. “Makes sense they wouldn't leave much. It's expensive.”

“Even at top speed, that doesn't get us very far from Perdition,” Martine pointed out.

“Then we rebuild the engines for greater speed and fuel efficiency,” Vost said.

Jael cocked his head. “Can you do that?”

“Not without some help. But we're short on a design computer.”

“Could this help?” Dred strode toward them carrying the obsolete handheld they'd found in the dormitories.

“Possibly, depending on what programs it has. We can't bounce an uplink for updates, but let's take a look.”

Jael wished he'd spent more time studying and less time fighting. In salvage work, he hadn't needed to be good at creating things, only breaking them down into component parts that could then be resold. Over the turns, he'd picked up some skill at demolitions and a little security, but none of that compared to the innate genius Ike could've brought to this project.

We need you, old man. Why'd you die for us?

Vost flipped through the directory, a frown building. “I wonder who this belonged to.”

“Why?” Dred leaned in, and Jael restrained the urge to pull her back. Anytime she got within a meter of the merc commander, his nerves went up in flames.

“There are all kinds of notes, as if an audit was ongoing. See here, someone's analyzed the actual cost ratio, which didn't match up with what officials were reporting.” Vost flicked the screen, and a green chart appeared in holo form.

Jael studied the numbers, neatly lined up in columns: actual costs versus reported. There was a significant discrepancy in almost every department. But that wouldn't help them rebuild the engines to be more fuel-efficient. He wasn't even sure why Vost had pointed it out.

Calypso rubbed a hand over her face. “Explain why I should care if the Monsanto admins were corrupt however long ago.”

“They might have hidden resources that could help us,” the merc commander explained.

Dred shook her head. “Unlikely. They would've taken everything with them.”

“But we found this handheld,” Martine pointed out.

“Have we searched the bay thoroughly?” Duran asked.

Jael couldn't answer that. He'd been unconscious for like a week. So he glanced at the others, waiting to hear what they said.

“I think so,” Tam said, thoughtful.

Martine didn't seem so convinced. “But we were looking for ship supplies, not for cred-sticks or hints of corruption. Maybe we overlooked something?”

A hidden cred-stick would feel like . . . a sign, Jael decided. A good omen, even. Because right now, it seemed so unlikely that they'd even get off station, and if they did, they'd probably die in a dead ship. Though he'd asserted otherwise, he didn't have a lot of faith that he could cut free of this place and start a new life. Yet a cred-stick represented a tie to the outside world, where you needed money to survive, not just your wits or a sharp knife.

•   •   •

THEY
split up to dig around the docking bay more thoroughly. Jael went to the dormitory and turned all the mattresses, then checked to see if anything was fastened to the bed frames.
Nothing.
It seemed likely that whatever the Monsanto execs had left behind would be in their quarters, not the shift workers' area. Still, he kept looking, just in case.

Next, Jael moved on to the storage units adjacent to each bunk. They had obsolete, analog locks, but this, he could manage. After five minutes of tinkering, he popped the first one open. There wasn't even dust inside, which spoke well of the airtight seal. The next three were the same, but the fifth one he opened still contained
all
the original occupant's personal belongings inside it.

“Well, that's fragging strange,” he said aloud.

“What is?” Dred asked.

“Have a look.”

She crouched beside him, hands braced on the edge of the footlocker. The interior of the lid still had a personal label affixed:
Property of Rebestah Saren.
Inside, there were three changes of clothing—Monsanto uniforms and spare underwear—along with all the small comforts you'd carry away from home. As a superstitious shiver flickered over him, Jael didn't want to touch anything, but Dred had no such compunction. She rummaged around, coming up with expired snack packets and some kind of portable entertainment console. Next she picked up a framed holo like the one Vost carried of his son. This one showed a young woman hugging an older couple, probably her parents, he guessed. The loop only ran for three seconds, but it gave him chills when she turned to face the camera with her intense, dark stare. Strangely, he felt like he
knew
her . . . but that was impossible.

•   •   •

“THAT'S
her
.” Dred's words came out sharp with surprise.