Breakout (16 page)

I think I saw something we can use in the repair bay . . .

Mind made up, he headed for the force-field control panel, but Dred intercepted him, wearing a dark look. “Going somewhere?”

18

The Chained Queen

“Should we break that up?” Tam asked Martine. From what he could tell, an argument was raging across the bay between Jael and Dred.

She shook her head. “Not on your life. Interference is likely to get one of us shanked. My money's on Dred. Just look at her face.”

“It's only because she's worried,” Tam said.

“I know.” Martine's voice softened. “Look, I don't think I said it before, but . . . thanks for telling me. You know. About Tarnus.”

He paused in his work long enough to smile, and her sharp-toothed response was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. “I wanted you to know my story. In case—”

“Don't even say it. You never know what evil god might be listening.”

“In my experience, they're not malicious, just indifferent, and they leave us to our own tender mercies.”

“That might actually be worse,” Martine said.

“Agreed. Let's take a break. I'm not getting anywhere with this. I'll treat you to the finest paste credits can buy.”

“I knew I made the right move when I latched onto you.”

Tam led the way, and they settled against the far wall of the docking bay, not far from the pile of supplies they'd carried in with them. He handed Martine her foil packet, wishing he could offer her something better than the base nutrients necessary to sustain life. Nobody ever got cheerfully plump on the stuff, though, and she could use a few extra kilos.

We all could.

Life in Perdition had never been easy, but lately, they were hanging on by their fingernails.
If this ship doesn't come together, we're done for.
Yet he gave no sign of those dark thoughts as he tore open his own pouch. The taste always struck him as faintly wrong, not vegetable and not meat, nor even a poor synth version, but something thick and gluey that clung to the tongue and palate, as if daring you to actually swallow it. Tam forced it down.

“I'd rather take a pill,” Martine muttered.

“Maybe they've perfected them by now. Things have probably changed since we were out there.”

“Never as much as you think,” she mused. “How long's it been for you?”

“Ten turns, give or take. I've lost track.”

“It's easier to let it go.” With a grimace, she finished off her meal, then knee-walked over to the crate to count how many packets were left. Tam watched her divide by the number of survivors, and then: “Shit.”

“Yeah. We need to get off Perdition ASAP. I checked the Kitchen-mate. It doesn't have much base organic left, either.”

The argument across the bay came to a head when Dred grabbed Jael's arm and he hauled her in for a kiss. Tam wondered if that tactic would work on Martine. Who eyed him warily.

“Don't
ever
try it. I will bite off your tongue.”

“Noted,” he said, properly submissive.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds before Dred shoved Jael away and slammed him into a wall, before going back in on her terms. Tam noticed both Vost and Duran watching as they cut across to the meal station. He nudged Martine, who glared at the mercs.

“You never saw anyone work out relationship issues before?”

“Not like that,” Vost said.

Dred called, “Someone lock up behind us. We're making a supply run.”

“Hold up.” Vost pulled to his feet, moving so slow that Tam realized there must be some kind of problem. “Let me make a shopping list so we don't have to do this again. We're much safer in here.”

Calypso came from the dormitory at a run, carrying a pack with some gear in it. “Take weapons and be alert. Silence has been waiting for us.”

“That's fine,” Dred said with a truly chilling smile. “I'm eager to see her. We have unfinished business.”

•   •   •

WHILE
the others bantered, Vost tried to think of everything he might need down the line. Frustrating since he couldn't predict all the problems that might arise. This was virgin territory for him, too, even if the others acted like he was the resident expert. He didn't entirely mind their deference, but it was also exhausting when he just wanted to fall onto a bunk and never get up.

Somehow he managed not to rub his chest. His burns felt better, but they still weren't healing like they should.

Sooner or later, he had to make up his mind what to do about the launch codes. If he gave them to one of the convicts, then they'd have the perfect excuse to kill him in his sleep. Hell, he couldn't offer much resistance, even wide-awake, and Duran wasn't enough backup for the two of them to take out everyone else. Plus the other merc showed all signs of going native, beguiled by Calypso as he appeared.

I can't trust anyone. I have to survive.

But he had no idea if he was strong enough to knock out this infection. Vost stopped obsessing over his physical condition and went back to making the list. Finally, when he was sure he'd come up with all possibilities, he gave it to Dred. She took it, still frowning over the argument with Jael.

“Thanks.”

“Be careful,” he said.

It was surprising how much he'd come to admire her in the short time he'd been on station. Where other people devolved into monsters, she'd tried to build something. He didn't know if he could've been successful at uniting so many hardened killers under his own banner. Hell, his mercs mutinied after a couple of bad weeks, all but Duran . . . and Redmond.

Poor bastard.

“I'll watch her back,” Jael told him coolly.

Easy, brother. I'm not after your woman.
But he didn't say it aloud. As the other two left, he went back to the supply crates for his daily ration. Tam and Martine were still there, but he couldn't tell what the smaller man was thinking. If he gambled, he'd make a fortune. The woman was more transparent; she didn't like this outing, yet it wasn't like they had a choice.

“Why does it have to be him?” Martine demanded.

“Jael wanted to go,” Vost answered.

He could've explained that it was a matter of pride, or maybe “survival” might even be the right word. If you let something spook you, then it became a permanent part of your psyche, a monster you couldn't stare down. So he respected Jael for heading right out to face his demons even if it was dangerous. Sometimes he suspected it was better to die a hero than live as a coward, but he couldn't say for sure because in the end, he'd always walked away, making the expedient choice time and again because of the boy he had waiting back home.

“He's barely out of his sickbed,” Calypso snarled. “Any one of you lazy arseholes would've been a more sensible choice.” She kicked Duran in the thigh.

“Not so much. I don't even know where Repair is located.”

“Then Keelah could've guided you,” Martine said.

Tam spoke as the calming influence. “No point in arguing about it now. Once you finish eating, we should get back to work.”

Vost glanced around. “Where
is
Keelah anyway?”

Nobody had an answer, so after he sucked down his paste, he went looking and found her in the dormitory, fiddling with the entertainment console Dred had found. But rather than playing games with it, she had deconstructed it to component parts. She glanced up, flinching when she realized he was alone, like she thought he might hurt her.

“You don't like humans much, do you?”

Her teeth clicked. “Are you an idiot?”

“Excuse me?”

“Obviously, the answer is no. I'm here for the crime of being nonhuman. Explain to me how that's right or fair.”

“It's not fair to hold me responsible for crimes other humans committed against you.”

“I don't
care
,” she snarled.

He hadn't seen her display such hostility to anyone else, but she likely associated him with the Conglomerate even if he wasn't working for them anymore. “Sorry to disturb you.”

“You must've come in for a reason, so let's hear it.”

“First, I want to apologize for the loss of your mate.”

“And?” she said without looking at him. He heard
your words are meaningless
in the tone of her voice, the tilt of her head.

“Next, I want to tell you something. It won't make up for your loss, but I think it'll help.”

The look she gave him then burned with both incredulity and loathing. “Impossible.”

We'll see.
Quietly, he gave her the launch codes.

•   •   •

THERE
is a piece missing.

A missing piece.

Silence passed through the darkened halls of her kingdom, not seeing the way the survivors cowered at her feet. It was all empty now, everyone was dead or soon would be. She could feel the cool, skeletal fingers on her shoulder, guiding her steps. She was grief made flesh, and there was no solace for her loss. Tears traced down her cheeks in hot rivulets, marring the mask of perfection she wore for her dark lord, and she did not wipe them away.

There was no Speaker any longer. No words to offer the outside world.

There was only before and after.

After was an abyss of longing unanswered. She had never encountered such perfection, such antithesis to death.
He was life incarnate, and I have lost him.
Licking her lips, she imagined she could still taste him, but every trace was long since gone. Her mouth felt dry and cracked beneath her tongue.

One of the Silent rose up from the floor and gestured.
What should we do now?

Nothing,
she replied.
Nothing but wait.

Apart from sending patrols down to look for her lost love, she had issued no orders in recent days. The fight was over; she had been defeated. Now she could only wait until they would be united once more in death. He must be aching every bit as much at their separation, and that certainty was all that let her survive this parting.

Some of the Silent were dying. There was no more medicine to hold Lord Death at bay, and so he came to reap among the legion devoted to his name. She saw him come in his feathered mantle and prayed that this would be her time; yet, when she dropped to her knees, he swept past and claimed some vomiting wretch on the ground nearby. Her tears came stronger then, but she did not sob. For countless moments, she knelt and wept.

Until someone dared interrupt her sorrow with a touch on her shoulder. With a silent snarl, she glanced up.
What?

The prisoner is being moved. Shall we save him?

Truly?
A spark of hope kindled within her.

The guard is limited, lady, only one.

Who?
she demanded.

The chained queen.

Silence ground her teeth. This could only be a taunting gambit, designed to show the other woman's ascendance on station. But Death never surrendered, no matter how dire the odds. She would recover her consort and be made whole in joy and pleasure once more. Picturing his face gave her solace. Pain pierced her head as she tried to remember what sweet words he had offered. There had been some, surely.
But no—I made him silent. His voice is mine. How could I have forgotten?
Those beautiful, intimate moments wherein he gave her the sweetest, most seductive gift. No lover had ever made her feel so desired. Yet that lapse of memory quivered into a frisson of unease, as if she'd mislaid an important thread.

You are at war,
Death whispered. Bony fingers delved beneath the seductive tangle of her hair to stroke the nape of her neck. She shivered, but not from pleasure. The grim one would be enraged to learn she loved another with greater passion, now.
I must never show it.

Pretending to obey his dark demand, she strode from her throne room with the Silent at her heels.
Fret not, beloved, for I am coming.