Havoc (Dred Chronicles 2)

Katur waited in a small room that still smelled faintly of machine oil. Once, this sublevel had been used for maintenance. These days, it was home to the aliens on board, but he kept strangers away from the rest of his people. Dred respected that caution. His mate, Keelah, was nowhere to be seen. The alien leader was short by human standards, with brindled brown fur and amber eyes, and he wore a shrewd expression as he studied them.

She recalled enough of Tam’s lessons to say, “I greet you in peace.”

“Likewise.” Katur didn’t ask about her errand.

“I’ll make this quick since I need to get back to Queensland. The supply ship that just docked brought only soldiers. They’re here to wipe us out.”

Katur regarded her for two beats. “Why do you tell me this?”

“So you can make plans and aren’t surprised by the heavily armed invaders above.”

“Information is valuable. It seems unlikely that you’ve come out of kindness.” His quiet tone said that humans rarely did anything from that motivation.

Sadly, Dred’s experience dovetailed with Katur’s. “I don’t expect anything as formal as an alliance, but it might make things easier if we both rescinded our kill-on-sight policy—with regard to the other’s personnel. It’s about to get violent up in here.”

“As opposed to the peace and prosperity we have enjoyed until now.” The gentle irony in Katur’s voice prodded a smile out of Dred.

“You make a good point.”

Katur went on, “There’s no question how you’ll recognize my people, should they pass through your territory. But all humans look alike to us.”

Jael smothered a chuckle, and she nudged him with an elbow. “You just enjoy saying that. Regardless of how we look, we don’t smell like Silence’s or Mungo’s crew. We bathe occasionally in Queensland.”

“Very well. The safety of your soldiers depends on their hygiene, then.” That seemed to amuse Katur.

“I’ll let them know,” she said dryly.

“If you’ll pardon me, I need to send scouts to verify what you’ve told me.” The alien didn’t reveal fear if he felt any. Maybe Perdition had burned it out of him.

“Thanks for your time.”

“Thank you for the forewarning.”

Dred dipped a shallow bow in response and followed the guard back to the ladder where they’d dropped down. As she climbed, she strained for the sound of laser fire but came up with only the normal groaning and banging of the ducts. Other machinery nearby made it tough to hear anything, so she wouldn’t know if there was fighting on the deck above. Mentally, she mapped what she knew of the station.

They’ll cross into Mungo’s turf first. With any luck, his men will engage. She had no clear intel on what kind of offensive or defensive capabilities Munya could bring to bear, but they were numerous enough to slow the mercs down. She hoped. Silence’s people worked best in the dark, but they would find it impossible to take out their targets through so much armor. Death’s Handmaiden would have to find a workaround.

That will buy us some time.

In her mind’s eye, she saw laser fire threshing the Shanty-men like wheat while the soldiers stood untouched in the armor. It reminded her of period vids she’d watched as a kid, about the dark time before humans were “civilized” and they stopped wiping out primitive people from Class P worlds with advanced weaponry. Even as a child, she’d known it was wrong, but she never considered how those people must’ve felt: how fear and futility came on, so powerful as to shatter the spirit. At what point do you buckle and say, no more? This, I cannot fight. In the vids, the doomed, noble tribe fought to the last man, then the wheels of progress rolled over him, and the credits began.

Dred didn’t equate the plight of those inside Perdition with Class P sufferings, of course. Nobody here was innocent. But it was human nature to survive.

Once she swung out of the hole in the wall and down onto the ground, she glanced up at Jael. “What can we do to upgrade our defenses quickly?”

“You want my help, love?”

Though she might find it hard to speak the words with anyone else around, she said, “I need it. You’re the only one with any tactical experience. The rest of us are just criminals.”

His blue gaze locked with hers. “You’re not just anything. But yeah, I’ve a few notions. I could use Ike’s help and a crack at the parts we got as victory spoils.”

“Whatever you need,” she said grimly. “I have the feeling hell just got worse. And that shouldn’t even be possible.”

2

Building the Walls

The supply closet was dark and jumbled with gears, wires, scrap metal, and lengths of pipe. Ike had some kind of organizational system with items sorted according to what could be built from each piece. Jael skimmed the makeshift shelves, narrowing his eyes to read the faded scraps of label at the bottom of each pile. Overhead, the single light flickered; when it gave up, there might not be another to replace it. He breathed in the scent of oil, dust, and the tang of hot metal, trying to focus on the blurry memory struggling to surface.

Ike interrupted his abstraction. “Something you need, son?”

“Are you busy?” Jael asked.

As usual, the old man was wrist deep in Peacemaker mechanical bits. He shook his head, wiping a hand across his brow, leaving a dark smear. “No more than usual.”

“Have you heard?”

“That we have a new crop of killers among us? Yes indeed. I gather Dred wants us to tighten up security as much as possible?”

“That’s the goal.”

Ike nodded, wiped his palms on already stained trousers, and said, “Lead the way. I’m right behind you.”

Out of necessity, Jael did the heavy lifting when they raided the parts store. Ike advised him on what would be most useful, and he loaded up. Then he headed for the first checkpoint. Jael dropped the parts and sorted through them with confident hands. Ike stood by with a weary expression. Lately, the old man had been moving with the stiffness of one who had aches and pains that defied classification. He hated the thought of seeing a man he respected just wither away, but there was no medical help available. Infuriating, when the outside world could fix Ike up right and proper.

His expression must’ve given him away because Ike said, “There’s no cure for what ails me.”

“Rejuvenex.” That was an expensive antiaging treatment. Not everyone could afford it, but those who could often extended their life spans by close to a hundred turns.