Breakout (30 page)

And
everything
on Gehenna has a price.

36

Give Me This Much

Tam and Martine ran until they couldn't anymore. The scenery had changed by the time Tam paused. The buildings were squat and run-down, and the pedestrians were careful not to make eye contact. Since Martine was still wearing a bloodstained shirt, he understood why. The first order of business had to be new clothes, whatever would help them blend in best.

“That was novel,” Martine said, breathless.

“What was?”

“Fleeing from men in uniform and having them chase someone else.” She flashed a sharp grin that made Tam want to kiss her.

He'd had his own plan for getting off Perdition, but it went nothing like this. Since Einar had died, his whole life was one huge digression. And . . . he didn't mind. Sometimes it felt good to set aside all of the calculations and just be. He offered his hand to Martine.

Who took it with an almost shy smile. “So what should we do first?”

“Shopping, I think. But if you'd rather do something else, we can just grab you a shirt.” He indicated one of the auto-kiosks that sold
GEHENNA FOREVER
gear. Snagging the cred stick, Martine promptly bought it and pulled it out of the machine.

She shrugged into it quickly. “What do you think? Am I pulling it off?”

“Totally.”

“So what now?” she asked.

“That's up to you. I'm happy just breathing as a free man.”

Her look turned pensive as she gazed down the narrow street, teeming with people who suspected nothing. “We can never tell anyone, you know.”

“That we escaped?” Tam didn't even say the name of the place aloud.

“Exactly.”

“You'll find that I'm quite adept at keeping secrets.”

“I'm counting on that.” Martine leaned over and whispered in his ear.

His smile widened quite without his volition. “I hate to disillusion you, mistress, but that's not a secret.”

Martine leaned over casually and bit his shoulder. The twinned pleasure and pain of it stole his breath even in the busy thoroughfare. He could hardly wait to get her alone.
Those teeth . . .
He'd be sorry when and if she had them capped.

“We all thought you were her pet, you know.”

“Who?”

“Dred.”

“I've never been anyone's pet,” he said.

“Oh
really
?”

“I prefer the word ‘plaything.' As you well know.” A teasing glance.

She grinned, but she didn't press on that topic. Instead, her expression sobered as she took in the dazzling attractions. “Part of me wants to do nothing but eat delicious food and roll around in bed with you.”

“I'm waiting for the downside of that plan,” Tam said.

“Well, we'd be wasting Jael's money, for one. And . . . I don't want to act like an escaped convict, living like my freedom could be taken away from me at any moment. I want . . . to make plans, I guess. Are we staying on Gehenna? If not, where? Do we need new papers to travel? And more importantly—”

“Are we staying together?” he cut in.

“That's not what I was going to ask.” She seemed not to realize he was.

“I know. That's
my
question. Because it impacts everything else. We got together in a dark place at a dark time. I would understand if you wanted to cut loose and start again.”

White teeth sank into her lower lip. “Damn. That's deep for a walking conversation.”

“Should we talk about it over a meal?” His heart contracted into a hard, thorny knot in anticipation of her response.

Yes, Tam. It was fun while it lasted. But . . .

“No, let's just find a place to sit.” Martine led the way to a bench out of the foot traffic; it had a good view of the vendors across the way.

The rich and powerful smell of incense wafted to him. A woman in a veil was tending a brazier not far away. He watched her instead of looking at Martine.

“Well?” he prompted.

“I never once thought I'd get out of there. You might've had schemes, but I ended up feeling like, well, this is it. No matter how bad it gets, I won't let it break me.”

“It didn't.”

“There's somebody I love, someone I made a deal to protect. I used to lay awake thinking about her, hoping she was happy. If she was, I thought it was worth it, right? No matter who I slept with inside, she was always the brightest part of my heart.”

This hurts . . . more than I expected.

Tam nodded. “Do you plan to search for her now?”

“Just let me finish, you idiot.” She seemed impatient for some reason, angling to gaze at him intensely. “So I didn't even notice when the game I was playing with you got real.”

“Excuse me?”

“We're not just sexually compatible, I'm in love with you. So yeah. It'd be good for me if you stuck around.” Her eyes were liquid warmth, and her hand on his knee made his heart pound like he was fifteen turns again. “It doesn't matter to me where we met, though I warn you, if people ask how, I'll make up a different story each time.”

“That works for me. Because I'm mad about you.”

“Back to my original questions, then.”

“For what it's worth, I agree with you about not living like convicts. I'd rather start as we mean to go on, as people of great worth.”

“You know what they say, the future starts now,” she said, and drew him in for a kiss.

•   •   •

VOST
went straight to the guild building from the spaceport. With any luck, he should be able to cash out and get a ship out before anyone realized what he had done to Holland. There would be a reckoning, but not before he kept his promise. He played it cool, nodding here and there at mercs who recognized him.

The offices were open twenty-four/seven on a hub like Gehenna, a point in his favor. The Pretty Robotics model working the front desk gave him a facsimile of a smile. “Good to see you again, Commander Vost. What brings you to Ronin headquarters?”

“I need to empty my account.”

All assets would be frozen when the guild found out he'd sided with a bunch of felons and a Bred monster over a fellow merc. True, technically, Holland stepped on his toes first since Jael was in his company. That made the Bred bastard his catch. But they would've fined her for that; the matter wouldn't have ended with the whole crew ghosted.

Her face froze as her fact-finding protocol kicked in. “Is there a problem?”

“My son is sick. It's going to clean me out to pay for his next treatment.”

The Perdition payday should've gotten him the operation that would save his life, but there was no more money coming in. So he'd liquidate. He had some property to sell, too. Maybe he'd end up a destitute fugitive, but it would all be worth it.
Soon, I'll be there soon.

“Sorry to hear that. But you realize there is a penalty—”

“It's fine. Cash it out. Put every available credit here.” He held out his wrist.

There was some risk of being jacked. Occasionally, junkies would just take your money at the wrist, but unless the mark was an idiot, it was usually pretty hard to tell who had enough credits to be worth the violence. Pickpockets were pretty much out of luck, but thieves always figured out another way.
Only matters how far you'll go.

He fought the urge to break out in a cold sweat while she ran the numbers and eventually gave him a figure, lower than he hoped, but it was all he could raise.
This will have to do.
Probably, he should be drinking his guilt away. Redmond. Duran. Everyone on the
Stargazer
, but he only straightened his shoulders, accepted the deposit, and strode out.

Back to the spaceport.

Vost paid for a private hire ride back. He'd taken public transport, but time mattered as much as money. Trying not to look desperate, he scanned the various kiosks. Twelve different transport companies ran ships out of Gehenna, and none of them were particularly aboveboard. Finally, he went up to the one with the slogan: “Where you go is your business and nobody else's.” Quantifiable bullshit, of course, as secrets were always for sale, but better than, “We'll get you there. Probably,” with a smiley face dripping blood.

Somebody's got a dark sense of humor.

The electronic face on the screen brightened when he stepped up. “Name your destination, we can get you there. If it's not on our regular route, ask about a charter deal!”

Awesome. The perky VI package.

“I need to get to Ankaraj as soon as possible. When's the next ship out?”

“Tomorrow morning. We have four berths available. Would you like to purchase one?”

Swearing, he said, “Maybe” and left the kiosk hanging. As luck would have it, the only ship leaving tonight came from Bloody Good Shipping aka “We'll get you there. Probably.”

But their vessel was heading out in four hours, and they had one ticket left.

“I'll take it,” he said, holding out his wrist.

I'm coming,
he told the orange sky.
Hang on for me. I'll keep this promise if it's the last thing I do.

Once he had his documents, Vost headed to the lounge to wait. The other passengers were shady as frag, shifty-eyed, and one had a bag that seemed to be . . . oozing. A woman strode in, surveyed the lot of them, then turned around. Maybe she reconsidered her travel plans. He didn't speak to anyone.
I'm not here to make friends. I just need those Bloody Good bastards not to crash the transport.

And for the guild not to learn anything before my ship leaves.

Come on, universe. Give me this much.

37

If Dreams Come True

Once they lost their pursuers, Dred went with Jael on public transport, away from the spaceport. The security team searching for him wouldn't give up easily, but there were countless places to lose yourself in Gehenna. Jael seemed to know the city, so she trusted him and got off in a seedy-looking district. She hadn't spent much time in the dome, only one stop on a merc ship, long ago. She'd stayed near the spaceport, just done a little drinking before shipping out the next day.

They ended up on a narrow street lined with bars. Some of them were little more than stalls, open-faced shops with plastique tables and chairs and in some cases, buckets and crates, where people could drown their sorrows. A woman in a dirty apron tried to convince them to sample her soup, boiling away on an open fire. Jael shook his head politely as they strolled by.

Right, we're not in a hurry.

“Are we looking for something in particular?” she asked.

He appeared to be scanning each building with an assessing eye. Jael turned to her with a faint smile. “It's driving you crazy for me to be in charge, isn't it?”

“Maybe a little.”

“In payment for your honesty, yes, there's a club where we should be able to make contact with some players. I haven't been here in turns, though, so I don't remember exactly—aha. Here we are.”

Glancing past him she read
HIDDEN RUE
in blue, flashing letters. The building looked ancient, but it also showed some signs of recent renovation. A few scruffy bastards loitered outside, one of them smoking, and herbal-scented puffs scented the air as they passed by. She got a slight rush just from the secondhand inhalation, so whatever chem he had, it must be good. One of them aimed a smile and a wink at her. Dred laughed.

Holy shit. I'm in Gehenna. He has
no idea
who I am. He's
hitting
on me.

It was hard to control the wave of hysterical euphoria that rose up in her chest.
I have no idea how to act or what to do.
But Jael had ahold of her hand, so she went into the club. Inside, everything was dark and red-tinted. An elevated stage ran across the back of the bar, with cages hung high on either side. Right now, they were empty, and there weren't too many people drinking or watching the heavily scarred woman undulate; she wore nothing but crisscrossed straps with judiciously placed buckles and a pair of lethal-looking shoes.

“This is our first stop? Really?”

“Contacts, love.” Jael went over to the bar, where an old man was nursing a drink. “Who owns the place now?”

“Who wants to know?”

“What matters is that I knew Domina,” he said.

The man made a sound that was one part burp, one part raucous laughter. “Tell me another one. She's been dead for forty turns.”

Dred scanned the room, looking for a better source of information. She focused on a large, well-muscled man in a dark suit. Before him, he only had a glass of water. In most places, they had the public bouncer and quiet backup in case things got out of hand. The bouncer standing by the back wall wouldn't make conversation, but his partner might.

“Try that table.”

Jael followed her gaze and nodded. “Good eye. Let's go.”

He went over with a purposeful air. The other man looked up, revealing clear eyes and a speculative air. Dred guessed he must stand over two meters, probably 120 kilos. His arms were no joke, either. He'd shorn his hair, and she suspected that was to give no handholds in a fight.

“Can I help you two?” he asked.

“Maybe. I'd like to talk to the owner.”

“What about?”

“Domina always knew the major players. I'm thinking of sticking around . . . and making some local investments, but I could use a hand settling some business first.”

“Ah. Why don't you take a seat?”

Dred raised a brow at Jael, but he'd already accepted the invitation.
Maybe he's not the backup bouncer?
On closer inspection, she reevaluated the cost of his suit, adding another thousand credits based on the fabric and the cut. It looked as if it had been hand-tailored, nearly unheard of these days. Most men just input their measurements into their wardrobers. She took the seat next to Jael, both opposite their host.

“Thanks,” she said.

“As I'm sure you've worked out, I'm the current owner of Hidden Rue, Domingo Pace. But I'm not sure you'll find me as useful as my grandmother.”

“Nice to meet you.” She hesitated, wondering if she should give her full name. Coverage of her crimes had been plastered all over the bounce. It had been long enough, however, that she'd probably been forgotten by the general populace. “I'm Dred.”

“Jael.” He reached over to shake the proprietor's hand.

Domingo Pace signaled one of his human servers, a quaint affectation for a bar. “Bring me some wine.” He named a vintage and turn that meant nothing to Dred. “Now then . . . what do you think I can do for you?”

“Possibly put us in touch with the appropriate party . . . for a finder's fee, of course.” Jael seemed at ease though his request must seem odd to the other man. “There's an uncrowned king or queen of every city like Gehenna. If I can make his or her acquaintance, I have no doubt my problems will disappear.”

Dred suspected he meant literally.

“Is it a legal matter?” Pace didn't act like he'd mind if it was.

“Not exactly. Some businessmen want me for a project I have no interest in. They've had no compunction about issuing a private-pay bounty and trying to force my compliance.”

“How rude,” Pace said.

“My thoughts exactly.”

The other man steepled his hands, prepared to do business. “As I'm sure you know, anything can be had for a price. Do you have a skin unit?”

Jael smiled. “I prefer the old ways. May I borrow a handheld?”

“Of course.” The owner signaled again and murmured to his server, who returned momentarily with the old tech Jael preferred. Dred guessed Jael was flashing his account balance to prove he wasn't a con artist. Pace's smile warmed by five degrees. “Please, keep it for your own use. I'll have Vienna show you to the suite upstairs while I make some calls.”

•   •   •

JAEL
followed the waitress through the club and up the back stairs. Upstairs, he heard the giggle of happy toddlers.
They must have a crèche on-site for the dancers.
Vienna took another flight and another, until they reached the second-highest floor in the building. She keyed something on the security pad, then turned to him.

“Put your palm here, please, sir. This will key the flat to you, no need for a card or code.”

Quietly he did as instructed, then she bowed and hurried off the way she'd come. For some reason, Vienna seemed nervous. He watched her go.

Dred cleared her throat. “See something you like?”

“No, it's nothing.”
I hope.

He palmed open the doors and stepped inside; the suite was an opulent dream—lush fabrics, ornate furnishings in black and white. Accents came in red and gold, sparks of color. The far wall had an elegant frieze, and the bed was enormous, piled with cushions. Across the room, a row of cupboards hid myriad amenities like a Kitchen-mate and personal wardrober.

“How the hell do you have so much money?” Dred demanded.

“I didn't spend much of what I made as a merc, then later on, salvage. Before everything went wrong, I did one last job, and it had a
huge
payday. Then I got locked up, and it just sat there earning interest. It's a high percent account, too.”

“So sitting in prison made you rich,” she said, grinning.

It also drove me mad.

“That's one way to look at it.”

“Do you think we can trust Pace?”

“Not really. But I think he's more interested in getting what he can out of me. He must know I'll pay more over time than the company trying to collect me like a specimen.”

“I noticed you were cagey about why they're after you.”

He nodded. “Better if he thinks they want my brain figuratively, love.”

“So what now?”

“We wait. But while we do, I can think of a number of fantasies we could fulfill. Fine food, elegant clothes?” He tilted his head. “Interested?”

“It feels . . . silly, after everything we've been through.”

“Why? I want to see you as gorgeous as nature allows. I want to eat something delicious while imagining how I'll peel you out of a pretty dress.”

A shaky breath slipped out, and he could hear the unsteady skip of her heart.
Love knowing that you want me.
“You've talked me into it. But let's wash up first.”

It had been ages since he'd stepped into a san so luxurious. In fact, apart from the recycling function on the water system, there was no efficiency to it all. A huge tub dominated the room, a waterfall on the far wall, gilded spigots and impossibly thick, lush robes waiting for use on golden hooks. Dred stopped in the doorway, eyes wide.

“I feel like such a yokel right now.”

“You came from a backwater colony, rode around in dirty merc ships, then moved on to hunting killers. No time to live it up?”

“I couldn't afford it,” she admitted. “I spent my money on travel and weapons. The only taste of the good life I had came from Cedric, and he was all about philanthropy.”

“So opera and charity benefits?”

Dred nodded, looking sheepish. “He wasn't one to indulge like this.”

“I'm glad to hear that. Because it might take the shine off if you were comparing my lavish generosity with someone else's.” Though he kept his tone light, he didn't want to talk about Cedric Genaro, even if he'd died tragically. Maybe
especially
because he did.

He stopped the tub and turned on the water. There was a dazzling array of bath products lined up along the edge of the tub: ruby red, sapphire blue, gold, and silver. Jael smelled a number of them and decided on a rosy pink, then he scattered the kernels into the water. They burst into fizzing life, tinting the water with romance. Maybe it was ridiculous to do this when he should be planning, but he'd never been able to shake the taint of his heritage on his own. Now that he had Dred to protect, the problem had to be solved, one way or another.

She was already naked, slipping into the bath with a delightfully innocent pleasure. So odd to use that word in correlation with the Dread Queen, but her life had been stunted by her Psi ability, just as being Bred had marked him. He shucked the gray garb and stepped into the tub with her. The water burbled white at the spout and blushed pink deep down.

Rolling her shoulders, she settled in, eyes falling half-closed. “I don't even care if this is a politic move anymore.”

Jael shifted closer and pulled her against him. The water slicked her skin, so she felt like wet s-silk in his arms. “It's the best we can do, trust me. Without powerful backers, they hound us all over Gehenna. We can kill them, but they'll send more. Sooner or later, the authorities will intervene, and they won't care
why
we fought, only that everywhere we go, dead bodies pile up.”

“I'd prefer to stay out of prison,” she said.

“Don't worry. I have a plan.” He smiled at her, trying to look reassuring.

That was mostly true. It would be more accurate to say he had a dream. Since he'd never had one before, there was nothing he wouldn't do to make it come true.