Ann Aguirre - Havoc

“Was it mutual?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. It didn’t start out personal, though. She came to me because I’d been vocal, complaining about her fascist husband’s policies.”

“Came to you with what?”

Martine’s dark eyes were grave. “Proof of Conglomerate atrocities, incursion on civilian civil liberties, and evidence that they were ignoring due process.”

“Shit. War crimes?” This wasn’t what she’d expected at all.

“Exactly. Against Nika’s wishes, I went public with the information, and they labeled me a traitor. She was taken into state custody, detained indefinitely.” The other woman took a deep breath, as if the memories hurt even now.

“So you cut a deal to save her.”

“Yep. I go quietly to Perdition, and she goes free. Traitors are the worst of the worst, you know. It doesn’t matter what the government does to its citizens, apparently. They’re above the laws they write to govern us.”

“So you’d never killed anyone before you went inside?”

“In combat, sure. I saw some action in a few skirmishes, doing colony work for the Conglomerate. But that’s . . . different.”

She wanted to reach out, but she didn’t know how to connect with anyone besides Jael. It was kind of a huge deal that she wanted to. Besides, the other woman might not welcome a hug or a pat or whatever the hell women did to comfort each other. This would have to do, just listening in the half-light.

“I hope Nika’s safe,” Dred said finally. “And that your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.”

Martine’s voice was so quiet she could barely hear it. “Me too.”

Jael stopped outside the quarters he shared with Dred, listening to the rise and fall of female voices. Seems like she has company. He continued to the common room, where a handful of men were snoring. A few were propped up on the tables; others had passed out underneath them. Between Ike’s wake and the celebratory revels, Queensland had been liquored up a lot lately.

Cook was the only man who looked remotely sober, so Jael headed for the herbal teapot. He wasn’t ready to face Dred in any case; he still had to figure out what he was going to do about what had happened with Vix and Zediah. The taller man greeted him with a jerk of his chin. It seemed to Jael as if he was always around. Does he ever sleep?

Silently, the chef poured him a cup and raised his brows.

“You’re playing bartender?”

The other man shrugged.

He considered unloading his troubles but he didn’t know him well enough to be sure he could be trusted, and the sort of vague advice he could receive without telling Cook everything made it seem like a waste of time. Moments like this, he missed Einar most, as he might’ve turned to the big man. But he could already imagine what Einar would say: Tell Dred. Someone else will figure out the hydroponics garden.

But with Ike gone, there was no guarantee anyone was smart enough to keep food production up. So he’d sit on this problem and hope it didn’t get worse while they dealt with Vost and his wrecking crew. He had been sitting alone long enough to see the bottom of the tin cup through the yellow liquid they dubbed tea when the beetle-browed recruit ambled into the common room. Jael glimpsed an interesting exchange between him and Cook, just a quick gaze, a nod, nothing more, but it made him wonder. There were always silent intrigues going on, and Tam used to be top-notch at keeping track of them.

To his surprise, the lout came over and sat with Jael. “Not drinking tonight?”

“Somebody has to keep a clear head.”

“Did the Dread Queen kick you out of bed?” The other man smirked.

Jael barked out a laugh. “If she had, you’re the last one I’d tell, mate.”

“It’s an interesting setup you’ve got here. Name’s Pietro by the way.” He didn’t seem to take offense to the rebuff.

Something about this conversation struck Jael wrong, but he couldn’t put a finger on why. “How come you aren’t drinking?”

And why are you roaming around during downtime?

“I was playing cards with some of the boys earlier. Won a bunch of chits from the ones who were .” A glib answer, convincing even. “I won’t be on watch for a ten-day stretch now. That’s what I call being a gentleman of leisure.”

He couldn’t find anything to object to in that statement other than the obvious smugness, but hell, he’d enjoyed hustling a mark in his time. There was a certain satisfaction in proving that you were smarter than other people thought, and if you could get people to underestimate your abilities, all the better. This was certainly no worse than anything else he’d heard in here and better than a lot of it.

So why’s my skin crawling?

Past experience had taught him to pay attention to these moments, so he half closed his eyes, paying attention to the unsteady skitter of Pietro’s pulse and the sour tang of nerves percolating beneath his skin. Once Jael zeroed in, he took in the nervous tic in the other man’s jaw, along with the faint sheen of sweat on his brow. Pietro drummed his fingers on the table, but before Jael could call him on it, the convict pushed to his feet.

“Nice chatting with you, but I’m late for an appointment with my bunk.” Pietro hurried out of the common room, as if he’d successfully stalled him.

That was enough to send Jael back to Dred’s quarters at a run, but to his relief, he still heard the rise and fall of her voice, along with Martine’s. He closed his eyes on a sigh of relief and turned away.

Lucky bastard. You get to live another day. But I’ll be watching you.

“CANyou find out for me how much the mercs have hurt Mungo and Silence?” Dred kept a hand on her head, making Tam think that, like Martine, she had a raging headache.

“How much did you drink last night?” he asked.

“Unimportant. Can you do it?”

“Absolutely. I won’t engage . . . I’ll just go on a fact-finding mission to discover how many men they have left.”

“That would be useful information.”

“As you like. Feel better, my queen.” The gentle irony in his tone prompted a scowl from the woman, then Tam headed toward the barricades. Ordinarily, he would take Martine out with him, but she couldn’t move without moaning, not an asset on a silent run.

Halfway across the common room, Katur stopped him. “I overheard your assignment, and I wish to accompany you.”

“Why?” It was best to understand a prospective ally’s motives.

“Though my people have been assimilated into Queensland, I’m still in charge of their safety. If I lack knowledge regarding our enemies, it compromises the effectiveness of my leadership and my decision-making abilities.”

He didn’t ask if Katur could move quietly; the alien had been slipping around, probably inside Queensland itself, without Tam’s knowledge for turns. So he nodded. “Will you show me the best route to Munya?”

“Of course.”

“Then welcome aboard.”

“One moment, please.” Katur signaled to his mate, who nodded. “I’m ready.”

“It’s impressive that you two maintain a close relationship, in spite of all of the challenges,” Tam said, heading for the barricades.

“Our love would be a pale, weak thing if it couldn’t survive privation as well as plenty.”

While that might be true, Tam had often seen couples devolve into spitting accusations over lesser trials. Katur took the lead, showing him an alternate route three levels up. Though this was part of Queensland, they no longer had the men necessary to protect it, so the corridors had an abandoned air. Dred had made the right decision when she tightened up their boundaries, but she’d also yielded a fair amount of territory to protect her citizens.