Perdition (Dred Chronicles 1)

“But we need to be careful when we leave,” Jael pointed out. “They don’t need to get in, as we have to come out at some point.”

Dred nodded. “You’re both right. I need to get some sleep. Once I feel sharper, we can decide what gear is worth hauling out right away.”

She was concerned about leaving the force field disabled later so they could leave. Not that we have a choice. Sooner or later, somebody else would check out the area, realize the defenses had been breached, and the looting would begin. Before that happened, Queensland had to snatch the top-tier items.

Or maybe we can secure the bay somehow. Wills might have some ideas.

“Sounds good. I found some dorms this way if you’re interested.” Jael beckoned.

Her brows went up. She hadn’t seen any doorways on the ground floor. Curious, she followed him through a warren of equipment, rusted metal, and scarred internal mechanisms. The place probably hadn’t been so junked up during the Monsanto days, but now, with only one functioning bot to process everything, it was no wonder the place was overflowing. The system was breaking down; R-17 might go out on decks 47 to 52 and find stuff that needed to be repaired, but once he got it here, there was nobody to do the work. Wills needed to do something about that maintenance droid, or he might well be the straw that broke the camel’s back. He needed to be programmed for more helpful services.

“The door’s here.” He nudged a heavy panel aside in order to open it, but inside, Jael was right.

This was a simple, functional dormitory, where the bay workers had doubtless slept. The design was typical of such a room, with twelve bunks set into the walls, stacked three high and four across. A musty scent hung in the air, but she was too tired to care. Dred rolled into the nearest bed.

“Dibs,” she mumbled.

A few seconds later, she was asleep. For a while, she drifted, and there was nothing. Bliss. Then the dream came on as it always did when she was most exhausted, defenses down.

* * *

THE house is bright with sunlight, such a buttery yellow. It creates patterns on the white floor. I stare at my toes, listening to my parents argue in the next room. This has been going on since last night, and I’m angry, too. My father paces while my mother tries to calm him.

“Did you think she would stay here forever, Malcolm? This place is . . . nowhere. Dee wants to see the world. She’s a lot like you.”

“You know the risks,” her father bites out.

“Enough,” I call. “The freighter leaves in an hour. You can have breakfast with me or keep fighting. Either way, I’m leaving in forty minutes.”

“Come on,” my mother says gently.

When they join me in the kitchen, I see their concern and trepidation. I offer a cocky smile in return. “It’ll be fine.”

The meal stutter-skips, then I’m on the deck of the freighter along with a few other new crewmen while the captain lectures us about our responsibilities. I’m low dog on the roster, which means I’ll get all the scut work until I prove myself. So long as it gets me off this rock, I don’t mind. My parents have their reasons for hiding here, but there’s nothing to keep me from the greater galaxy.

Then the first mate strides in. He’s so handsome I can’t stop staring at him. And he knows his effect on women, throwing me a cocky wink. But it doesn’t hit me like he expects. The world trembles, even though the ship hasn’t moved from dock yet. My eyesight goes, red washing everything. Inexplicably, the real world is replaced by a series of horrific, graphic images. I see the first mate, his face tight with lust and violence, throttling a woman while she thrashes beneath him. The pictures flash again, again, so many women, so many murders—

* * *

DRED woke in a cold sweat, Jael’s hand on her shoulder. With utter self-control, she restrained the urge to lash out. “Time to get up?”

For a moment, she thought he would comment about the nightmare. Instead he just nodded. “The others have been up for a while. I thought you’d want to see what Wills has accomplished.”

“Did he sleep at all?” she asked, rolling out of the bunk.

“Negative. He’s like a kid on his birthday.” Jael offered her chains.

She took them gratefully. Feel naked without them. “Let’s go see what Perdition gave him.” Before he pushed past her, she set a hand on his arm. “Thanks, by the way.”

Jael seemed surprised. “For what?”

For waking me. For not asking. For restoring my identity.

Dred shrugged and kept walking. She suspected he knew; or maybe he wasn’t susceptible to bad dreams. Either way, she’d said what was needful.

“I found some paste in the supervisor’s office,” Einar called. “Hungry?”

“Is there enough for everyone?”

The big man nodded. “The rest of us already ate . . . I found a full carton. Tastes like shit, but it’ll keep us going until we get back.”

“Any water to be had?”

“There’s a sink in the lavatory,” Wills offered. “Don’t know if the filters and recyclers are still good, so I boiled some in the kitchenette.”

“That’s a yes,” Einar added.

He handed her a drink, and she downed it in four swallows, then attacked the food packet. Using thumb and forefinger, she forced the paste down her throat; on freighters during long hauls, before her arrest, she’d found it was better to swallow without tasting. When she lowered the empty foil envelope, Jael was watching her with an odd expression. She raised a brow.

“Better?” he asked, obviously amused.

“Clearly. Now show me what you’ve found.”

18

Hard Way Home

The maintenance bot proved unexpectedly useful after Wills reprogrammed it. The thing had engine codes for equipment Jael would’ve guessed didn’t work at all. There were drilling rigs and bore bits and other bots with missing parts. Fortunately, that also included an air pallet, which was exactly what they needed to get all the gear back to Queensland. At the moment, he was helping Einar load the thing up. It had an impressive hauling capacity.

“I’m keeping him,” Wills said to Dred, presumably about R-17.

“Specify my next task,” the bot requested.

“In a minute.”

“It’s fine with me,” she answered. “Just realize somebody may break him, even in our territory.”

“I’ll put the word out that 17’s to be left alone,” Einar offered.