Ann Aguirre - Havoc

In the end, the boots gave them away before he could smell them. The clomp was distinctive, unlike any footwear crafted inside. A guy in Queensland made boots out of rodent skin, but they were light and soft, no noise at all. Dred touched his arm, asking the question with her eyes. It was insanity how well she read him; he hadn’t realized he had shown any sign, but she’d picked up . . . something. In answer, he nodded. The marching cadence came closer, until the others could hear it as well.

He leaned close to Dred, his voice little more than a breath in her ear. “Definitely them. Be ready to move.”

“Quiet so far. No mooks sighted.” As the merc made the report, he must’ve tripped the line. Cursing filled the air, and there was a huge clatter.

“Go, go, go!” Dred shouted.

They charged at top speed into a group of ten mercs entangled in the webbing and pinned down by the junk that had dropped on them. But they were slicing at the cords with utility knives. It wouldn’t be long before they were on their feet. Jael snapped a kick at an armored hand; it was strong enough to bounce the rifle away. Vix grabbed it and sprinted back toward Queensland. Another merc brought up his weapon and opened fire. The rest followed suit, and Zediah ran.

Jael shoved Dred toward the others. “Get out of here.”

Using his preternatural speed, he bounded between them, causing confusion. A couple of mercs actually shot each other while aiming at him, leaving scorch marks on their chest plates. He swiftly calculated the odds of stealing another weapon and decided he’d probably die instead. So he bounded after Dred. He took a hit in the back, and the merc who’d shot him exclaimed a startled curse.

“What the frag? Who runs away from a full shot?”

But he didn’t wait around to hear what the rest of the unit would say. The others were well ahead of him, so he didn’t see them, but halfway to Queensland, he spotted another drone cam. It tried to hover up out of his reach, doubtless in response to Vost’s orders, but Jael used a wall to launch and snagged the thing in the air. He pushed his face up against it with an awful smile, and said, “I’m coming for you.”

Then he dashed it against the wall until it was nothing but pieces on the ground. He pulled the screen and the processor out of the wreckage in case Ike could use them for something else. To his surprise, the burn on his back hurt like a bitch. Normally, it’d be gone by now, but he could feel the seared skin, throbbing with each thump of his heart. He rolled his shoulder blades, but that didn’t help.

Get a move on. The mercs won’t be far behind.

The turrets sat up at his approach, but since he was wearing a magnetic bracelet, they lost interest immediately. It hurt scrambling over the wall, but Dred was waiting on the other side. Vix was parading around the common with the laser rifle. Since it was the first modern weapon they’d seen in turns, Queensland roared with triumph. The men threw Vix up on their shoulders, and she rode the crowd like a pro while Zediah gazed on with flat eyes.

Something about that kid gives me the creeps.

Dred vaulted onto the seat of the scrap-metal throne and signaled to Vix, who thumped on a man’s shoulders until he delivered her—and the rifle—to the Dread Queen. The other woman slid down, evidently sensing that her moment had passed. Dred turned the gun over in her hands; Jael came up to stand at her shoulder with a military posture, inspecting it along with her. Automatic sighting, improved heat flow, larger battery pack to expand firing capacity. The rifle was a definite improvement from what had been on the market when he was a merc, forty turns or so ago now.

“We weren’t sure how effective our weapons would be against their armor, but this is top-of-the-line,” Dred called out. “And this is only the first of many victories. Now we just need to pick them off.”

It would obviously be a lot tougher than that, but with those words, she put heart back into worried men. As she lifted the rifle, they raised their arms, and shouted, “Dread Queen, Dread Queen!”

That ought to hold them for a little while. But he knew better than anyone how fast human beings could turn.

As the celebration continued, Dred dragged Jael to her quarters. He might think she didn’t pay attention to the details, but it was obvious from the way he moved that he wasn’t all right. Once inside, she was surprised to find that Tam and Martine had relocated. Hopefully that means he’s a little better. But more likely, the spymaster had felt uncomfortable lounging in her private space. He had very regimented notions about what was proper, as if she really were royalty. That opened the door to all sorts of questions.

“Shirt off,” she snapped.

“This is so sudden. I feel like we should cement our emotional bond first. Or perhaps you should offer a bride price for me?”

He was so ridiculous that she had to smile. Jael was the only one who could dig beneath the impenetrable mask she showed the rest of Queensland. She tapped her foot. “You were wounded back there. Let me see.”

“Fine. But only because you said please so sweetly.”

He pulled off the ragged shirt and showed her his back. She sucked in a sharp breath at the black, puckered skin in the center of his back. Mentally, she tabulated how long it had been since he had been shot. “Shouldn’t it look . . . better than this by now?”

“I can’t see, can I, love?” It was a blithe, slick reply.

As she inspected the wound, the mass of it shrunk infinitesimally. “It’s healing, but . . . not like you normally do.”

“I had noticed,” he said dryly. “There’s still plenty of pain.”

That troubled her. He’d just about emptied his veins in saving her life; though normally a primitive transfusion wouldn’t work, Jael had unusual healing abilities, acquired as part of his Bred heritage. Since then, neither of their bodies had been quite the same.

“This might seem like an odd question, but . . . what you did for me, have you ever done that for anyone else?”

He laughed. “I don’t put out for just anyone, love.”

“Don’t flirt with me. This is serious.”

“From my perspective, it just means I’m a few steps closer to normal.”

“Normal people die in here,” she said softly.

“Would that trouble you?”

A fist clamped around her heart. She didn’t want to feel things, let alone admit them. So Dred squared her expression and offered him the same coin. “Obviously, it would. Where would I be without my secret weapon?”

To her relief, he didn’t show disappointment in the pragmatic response. “Shoved down the chute, I reckon.”

“You got that right. We’re going to try an experiment.”

“Does this mean you’re taking your top off, too?”

“Not at the moment.” Dred got out a slim blade that she kept in her boot and drew a line down her arm before he could stop her.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Blood welled up from the thin cut; it wasn’t deep, so he was definitely overreacting. She said nothing. Instead, she counted in her head until the skin sealed, then she wiped away the red with her fingertips and offered him the blade. “Your turn.”

“No offense, queenie, but this isn’t my sort of thing. If this is what you want, you’d be better off with Tam.”

“Did you want me to do it?” she asked softly.

His blue gaze burned into hers. “Be gentle with me.”

“I’ll do my best.” She sliced with the same delicacy she’d employed before, then she counted off, watching his forearm the whole time. It was slow enough that she couldn’t see the incremental improvements. When the wound closed, she shut her eyes.