Breakout (27 page)

32

Down-Cycle Mutiny

Dred waited until everyone else was done in the san, so she could take her time. She scrubbed until her skin hurt, the mist washing away the longest week of her life. In fact, the only reason she came out was for the promise of food. She didn't like going into debt with a bunch of strangers, but there was no other solution.

Unable to believe Vost didn't plan to turn on them, she closed her eyes and scanned the ship. The moods all looked normal enough, nothing extreme or alarming.
Apparently, Perdition made you paranoid. Not surprising.
Seven days without adequate food and water left her weak as hell, so that effort drained her dry. Shaking, she turned off the san and pulled on her borrowed clothing, plain gray pants and shirt, obviously from the lowest wardrober setting. Still, nobody else had ever worn it—the clothing had been generated especially for her.
That
felt like luxury.

Most of the merc crew were waiting in the mess, along with all of her mates. Her gaze found Jael, who lifted a hand as if reaching for her across distance. Her heart pinged, a strange and lovely feeling. Dred skirted everyone else and took a chair beside him.

Bowls of food were waiting—meat or a good synth version, Kitchen-mate veggies and bread.
Damn, it feels weird having a proper meal.
She remembered when she had to guard her bowl and cup because they didn't have many of them, and unlike the freaks, her people didn't fashion eating implements out of skulls and femurs.

“Looks good,” Calypso said. “Thank you very much.”

Martine added her voice, as did they all. Tam was quiet, but Dred guessed he was weighing the others and taking their measure. What she'd seen with her Psi ability was good enough, however. Her stomach growled as the captain started passing the dishes around.

“Let them eat first,” she instructed. “You can tell by looking they've had a worse run than you lot ever dreamt of. Care to tell me about it?”

“We tried to clean out Perdition,” Vost said.

Ernie's eyes widened. “Mary's tits, never say you took that job? A drunken Rodeisian would know better. When the pay's too good to be true—”

“I know, I know.”

“Well, I understand why there's so few of you left. Say no more.”

“I didn't plan to,” Vost said with a certain grim amusement.

“If it's any consolation,” Calypso said, eating a bite of something orange and delicious-looking, “we left the place in pieces.”

Ernie burst out laughing. “I gather those weren't the mission parameters?”

“Nope. Somebody wanted to repurpose. Looks like they have to find a better site for whatever off-the-books black op they wanted to run.”

The redhead grinned. “Sad day to be a bureaucrat, eh?”

Tam smiled for the first time, apparently coming to the conclusion that it was best to be affable, and raised his glass. “Here's to our charming savior. If there's any way we can make ourselves useful until we make port, please don't hesitate to ask.”

“How are you at bunk sports?” Ernie asked, deadpan.

That reminded Dred so much of Calypso's approach to Duran that she was smiling before she realized it. Part of her expected Martine to object, so she was amused when the smaller woman said, “He takes orders beautifully. That's usually my purview, but in light of recent events, I don't mind sharing at all.” From her expression, that seemed to be true.

Fascinated, Dred propped her chin on her hand and waited to see how this would play out. Below the table, Jael squeezed her knee, and she glanced over at him.
Don't get any ideas,
he mouthed. She grinned more.

“Hm. I don't like coming between a happy couple unless they enjoy that sort of thing.” When Ernie chuckled out loud, she revealed a gold tooth. “So how about it?”

“I'm not averse,” Tam said.

The captain patted his leg, then Martine's. “Let's finish eating, shall we? I don't want either of you pretty birds to faint before the fun's through.”

“I never get invited to the best parties,” Calypso muttered.

“Darling, you'd be welcome, but even the captain's quarters have a capacity limit. If you still feel that way when we hit Gehenna . . .” Ernie trailed off with a cheerful wink.

Dred wasn't sure if the woman was truly so lusty or if it was a role she played to get others to let their guard down. She'd noticed that if people thought you were laser-focused on your libido, they tended to discount you otherwise, so she made a mental note
not
to do that with Ernie Holland.

“It stings being second choice,” Calypso said, “but I'll take it as an invitation to an extended private affair.”

“You were en route to Gehenna?” Vost cut in.

“So we were. You pulled us off course with your message, but . . .” She pretended to consult her crew. “His life's worth the cost of fuel, right?”

“Might be,” said a dark-skinned man with golden eyes. “Shall we auction him to find out?”

“Funny, Higgins.” Vost threw a crust of bread across the table. “Which reminds me. I haven't introduced all you jokers.”

Dred promptly forgot the fifteen names the merc rattled off. There was a mix of aliens and humans of varying genotype. They seemed to be a cheerful, prosperous lot, much better than the ones who offered her a berth when she fled the colony she was born on. They'd done mostly scut work, jobs no respectable crew would take on. From what she could recall, they hadn't even been guilded.

But I was too naïve to realize that they were complete scum. Until it was too late.

Once dinner ended, Ernie asked their specialties, an awkward moment. Vost filled in, “Tam is my recon expert. Martine specializes in demolitions and difficult extractions. Calypso handles all of our interrogations. Jael is a hitter with some security know-how.”

“And Dred?” Ernie asked.

“Special teams.”

She couldn't remember what that meant in merc terms, but Ernie studied her with all-new respect. “Good to know. Your accommodations won't be private, I'm afraid. We don't haul many passengers, so I only have one spare room with limited bunk space.”

“It's fine,” Jael said. “Perdition wasn't exactly hospitable.”

“I guess not. How long were you there?”

Martine smirked. “Felt like forever.”

“Well, maybe I can help you forget. Shall we have that drink now?”

•   •   •

AS
Jael watched, the captain took Tam and Martine to her cabin. He hoped they weren't trading sex for safe passage, but surely they'd have spoken up if they didn't want to. From what he knew of the other man, Tam would probably enjoy being bossed around by two women, and Martine wasn't known for holding her tongue.

It's fine.

Soon after Ernie's departure, her crew headed back to their duties or rec periods, depending on the schedule. Which left him sitting with Dred, Calypso, and Vost in the empty mess hall. The space was
so clean
, all metallic surfaces bright enough that he could see a distorted reflection of his face. Glastique like he hadn't seen in a hundred turns brightened the décor, etched with abstract designs and filled with light.

“I love this ship,” Calypso breathed. “You know I can walk right over here . . . and this Kitchen-mate is
voice-operated
. One sweet berry swirl, please.” The machine whirred to life and soon she had a little cup with a creamy layered dessert in it. “Heaven. We're in heaven.”

“Thanks for covering for us,” Dred whispered to Vost.

His eyes cut left and right. “What? You're the last of my team. I won't be hiring you on for the next mission unfortunately.”

That was smart,
Jael decided. Poor conspirators would sometimes discuss the truth without realizing that it only took one witness to make it all fall apart. Dred seemed to realize that, and she said nothing further on that topic as Calypso blissfully ate her whatever it was. It looked pretty good, though. The food on the table called to him, but his stomach was already hurting. Too well he knew that if he overate after near starvation, he'd just vomit everything up anyway.
Have to take it a little at a time.

Vost rubbed his chest. “I'm heading to Medical. Damned if I'll be the idiot that saves everyone else, then dies heroically of his wounds because he was too stupid to seek treatment.”

“I don't find you heroic,” Calypso said, smirking. “But you
are
stupid. So accept half a loaf as better than none and go take your medicine.”

“First time that woman's smiled at me,” he muttered, heading out of the mess.

“We should find the bunk room. Sleep for a while. It won't be long until we're in Gehenna, if they have a good navigator and pilot.” Jael stood up and waved to Calypso.

“This is a great break for us,” Dred said, a few minutes later.

“What is?”

“Gehenna. If they were going to New Terra . . .”

We'd be so fragged.
But he didn't say so, respecting her reasons for not completing that sentence. Even after they got into the spare room, which was four small bunks built into opposite walls, he didn't say anything that could be used against them.
Always assume they're watching and listening.
Life in the lab had taught him that.

“Yeah, it's been a while since I've been there.” The memories weren't all good, but he'd build new ones.
With you, love.

“We should be able to find work.”
It's a good place to disappear,
her eyes said.

It was also a lucky break because Gehenna—as a smuggler's paradise—didn't demand papers. They gave two shits if you were wanted by the Conglomerate, as long as you could pay the per-head levy to enter the dome. And Jael had a plan.

“So tired,” she mumbled.

Amazing how exhausting it had been, cooped up in that junker and waiting to die. Part of him wondered how much the parts would sell for because those credits, divided by six, that would be the cost of their collective survival.
Maybe I'll ask Ernie later,
he mused. Dred rolled into a bunk, and he squeezed in behind her.

“You're crowding me.”

“If we don't share, there won't be enough beds.”

“Tam and Martine probably won't sleep here tonight, unless they're a lot more boring in bed than I imagine.”

“Would you like to find out?” That wasn't his particular kink, but if she wanted it—well.
Maybe. Once.
In all honesty, however, it would be tough for him. Nobody but her had ever loved him.
And I never learned to share.

“Not really,” she said sleepily. “I love them both, but that many bodies in a bed must be confusing. Plus, I'd probably be pissed if someone else got more attention.”

Before he could tease her about that, she was out, making that low, buzzing sound. Jael wrapped himself around her and winked out, too. Nothing kept him from sleeping and sleeping, until he woke up with his bladder about to burst. He couldn't tell what time it was, but the room was still dark. Calypso was in one bunk, Vost another, and as Dred had predicted, the last was empty.

Jael slipped from bed and went out into the hall.
The san is this way.
By the low lighting, the ship was on down cycle, so he tried to be quiet as he passed the rest of the crew quarters. He used the facilities and was about to step out when he heard a door swish open. Innate caution made him freeze.
It's one of the crew. You're not in Perdition anymore. Nobody wants to kill you.
But he couldn't convince the throbbing in his head that he was safe.

“What're we doing with our bounty?” a low voice asked.

Shit.

“Make sure they don't suspect anything, dipshit.”

Really not good.

“I can't believe Vost thought Cap wouldn't check his story. She told me to scan everyone as soon as they fell asleep, see what popped.”