Breakout (6 page)

6

Finders Keepers

With the addition of Hex, they divided into five pairs, perfect to scope out each cache. Tam didn't love the idea of trusting Redmond to deal square, but since Keelah was watching him, it should be all right. He could tell that Jael was pissed that he had to let Dred go off with Vost, but it made sense not to let the mercs plot against them. The only way to avoid it was to divide and conquer. While the mercenaries had to be astonished at how well Dred was moving after twelve hours of rest, he'd seen her shake off worse.
Sometimes it's hard not to believe she's superhuman, just like the legend I crafted.
But he understood that her new healing abilities came from Jael, even if he didn't understand them. Plus, her physiology wasn't remotely the most important issue on his mind at the moment.

“We'll stagger our departures,” Dred said. “Count it down, a full five minutes between each. We don't want too much movement nearby.”

“Don't move anything,” Vost instructed. “Just bring back an inventory. We'll compare notes and figure out what has to be relocated.”

Calypso curled her lip. “I don't take orders from you.”

Tam flicked a look at Dred, who said, “Then consider that it came from me. We have to be smart about this. With Silence in hunting mode, we won't get many chances.”

Tam nodded. “Martine and I will go last.”

Keelah and Redmond slipped out first, then Jael and Hex. Next Dred and Vost, who exchanged a significant look with Duran before he went. The merc only nodded, and with Calypso to keep him in line, Tam wasn't overly worried.

“I wish our comms still worked,” Duran muttered.

“Too noisy. It would let Silence track us.” Calypso was right about that. “And we'd sacrifice any advantage in being able to plan over distance.”

Finally, it was their turn. He powered the droid down in case it started a cleaning subroutine and attracted unwanted attention. Afterward, Martine shimmied out, and Tam followed. He had the location fixed in his mind's eye; it would've been easier to use RC-17 as a guide, but the bot couldn't stay hidden.

With judicious pauses, Tam led the way. Once, this place was crawling with aggro, but now it was ominously empty. That didn't mean Perdition was safe, however. In his experience, the deadliest pitfalls were the ones that you couldn't see. The last leg of the trip was the most dangerous. He'd definitely seen Silence's foot soldiers patrolling this area, and that was
before
the carnage that gave them the upper hand.

He and Martine held still, listening, until he signaled the all clear. They dropped from the ducts because there was no access apart from open corridors. But despite the apparent lack of danger, his skin crawled with wrongness. Martine was close behind him, but she, too, froze, as if she sensed the atmosphere. Tam spun in a slow circle; there was nowhere to hide, which should have reduced the risk of an ambush.

Carefully, he crept forward, only to be yanked back by Martine. Silently she pointed at the trip wire. It was strung across the floor, not a few centimeters above it, and it would probably activate with the tread of a shoe. More alarming, they'd used wire that blended with the rusted-metal flooring.
Best not to imagine what that trap would've done to me.

“Disarm?” she asked.

He shook his head and stepped over. That would tell the enemy that someone had bypassed their defenses.
Best-case scenario, they never find out that there's anything worth salvaging here.
Martine spotted two more snares on the way down, something that bothered him.
There's something here Silence wants to keep us away from . . . but what the hell is it?
They probably hadn't found Ike's stash, so what could it be? No answer was forthcoming as they reached a dead-end section of hallway.

“This is the place,” Martine said, low. “Now what?”

“We start searching. Ike collected this stuff, it's up to us to find it.”

Determination led Tam to check the seams and the wall plates. Ike had hidden the treasure on his own, so the concealment couldn't be too elaborate. Martine struck pay dirt when the next panel shifted as if it had been removed before. She shot an elated smile at him, and his heart turned over.

Mary,
he thought.

It was an irrational place and time to develop such an attachment. The chances were good that one or both of them wouldn't make it. That was simple numeric probability.

Yet he smiled back, and said only, “Let's open it up, shall we?”

The subsequent blast put his lights out.

•   •   •

“DID
you hear that?” Vost asked.

They were still in the ducts, heading toward their target. He hoped. The air quality wasn't great, walls were closing in, and the dark made it hard to be sure of their route.

Dred tilted her head. “Yeah. There was an explosion five levels down.”

“How can you pinpoint it like that?” Sometimes the Dread Queen didn't seem entirely mortal. Possibly that was a psychological side effect of the bullshit shell game she'd been running on her entire gen pop, but it shouldn't affect Vost the same way. He knew damn well she was a predator, but a human one.

Her smirk rubbed him the wrong way, her drawl even more so. “I got skills, son.”

“By which you mean you don't intend to explain.”

“Why would I?”

“Point. Do you want to investigate the detonation?” He was prepared to vote her down if she did. Their mission parameters did
not
include search and rescue.

“If there's a problem, we'll find out soon enough. We'd better get our assigned cache.”

“You know the station better than I do. Lead on.”

“That's not saying much. You'd be better off with Tam or Keelah.” That wasn't mock-modesty. Vost could tell the difference, and Dred seemed completely at ease admitting she wasn't the best at everything.

Interesting.

“So tell me,” he said, as she plotted their course from here. “Do you have any remorse for what you did?”

That earned him a hard green stare, sharp as glass. “What does that matter?”

“Call it curiosity.”

“Mostly, no. They can say whatever they want about me outside . . . I know I left the universe better than I found it.”

“By hunting monsters.” That was what she'd claimed early on in her defense, before the barristers shut her down.

“Sounds like you don't believe me.” He couldn't see her face, but he heard a wry amusement in her voice.

“That thing you did . . . when you read me. Is that how you found them?”

Dred flicked a surprised look over one shoulder, which he took to mean he'd guessed right. “Maybe.”

“I need to understand what you can do.”

“No, you don't. You tell yourself that, but really, you're just dead curious. What kind of person sees demons in human skin? You're wondering if I'm crazy.”

She wasn't wrong. Yet . . . “I'm positive you're not psychotic. The way you fought us told me that much.”

“That's all you get, then.”

Cagey, but he understood why. Public opinion hadn't been kind after she murdered a father in front of his two daughters. For some of her kills, evidence came to light after the trial, proving she was correct in her judgment. With others, there was no proof at all that she was anything but a bloodthirsty maniac.

Vost fell silent until a distant rumble clued him in as to their location. “We're down near the recyclers, aren't we?”

Dred nodded as she led the way out of the vents. “Do you know how long it takes to turn a corpse into usable organic material?”

“I can't say that I do.” He wasn't looking to add that information to his general awareness, either. While killing a man in battle was one thing, it rang all his bells the wrong way to contemplate eating paste made from his processed remains.

They moved out of the corridor and down the ladder by one level. The rungs were rusted and scraped his palms. Small wonder they'd beaten his team.
I didn't even know how to access this part of the station.

As she moved along the wall toward the churning groan of the recyclers, Dred sighed. “Mary knows how Ike came all this way on his own.”

“He was one of the first to be sentenced, wasn't he?” Vost had definitely studied up on the prison's history before going in.

Not that it did much good.

“True. He was in here forever. I don't know of anyone who survived inside longer.” Her tone was both quiet and respectful, a testament to her fondness for the old convict. “So possibly this gear has been hidden for a long time.”

Vost nodded. The room they entered next was huge, an impossible amount of ground to cover for two people. So many nooks and crannies that he felt tired just taking stock. He ached all over, and the acid burns on his chest seemed to have a secondary pulse. But he staked out half the room nonetheless and set to work.

•   •   •

SILENCE
watched. Death permitted few pleasures, yet she savored these blind moments wherein those she hunted had no idea of her proximity. It had been a long time since an adversary interested her enough to draw her out alone. The new Speaker had protested, but she silenced him with a single gesture. He knew all too well how careless she was with minions she no longer found amusing.

She could not recall why she had been sent to this place, but it had become more than home. This . . . this was death's dominion. The only way anyone ever left these halls was through him. Every murder, every quiet shiv in the dark, fed her hunger, but there was no sating it. Even should she stand alone on these decks, she would still need bones for the furnace.

On that day,
she thought,
they will be my own.

Since she'd always known her fate, even since before she could speak, the thought did not trouble her. It was only her devotion that had kept her from eternity all this time.
He sees my skill. He knows it's my life's work. Therefore, I survive when others fall.
She had no doubt that she would be the last one standing when the smoke cleared.
Then and only then will my work here be done.

They were clearly searching for something.

She noted how methodical they were, how precise. The mercenary commander had joined forces with the Dread Queen, and now they both had a reason to fear. Wearing an expression that was
almost
a smile, she kept pace as they moved, just out of sight. It pleased her to glide into the shadows just seconds before the man's eyes focused.

He sensed her. Discomfort showed in the hunch of his shoulders—in the way he scanned the corners. She held still.
You know I'm here, don't you, prey?
As he brushed past, she silently sliced a lock of his hair and brought it to her nostrils. He hadn't washed recently, and there was a hint of smoke, oil. Silence curled a fist around the lock. The male paused. He said something to the Dread Queen, who lifted her head like an animal scenting threat on the wind. Except there was none, only the rumble of the recyclers.

Anyone with any sense of self-preservation would have slipped away. Instead, Silence moved in closer, stepping as they stepped, breathing as they breathed. So she was near enough to hear the male exclaim, “I found it.”

Found what?

With the Dread Queen's help, he pulled a crate out from under an upended shell of a broken Peacemaker chassis. Then the other woman beamed. Silence would've liked to widen that smile at the edges, peel it away in a shining wash of red, until there was only slivers of bone. But she didn't move. Sometimes, information was more vital than personal satisfaction.

“We can't build a ship without this,” the Dread Queen said, indicating something in the box outside of Silence's field of vision.

So that's your intent. You'll craft a vessel and sail away?