Havoc

26 Something Deep and Strange

In the twenty-four hours since Tam had returned with the chemicals, with Dred’s help, Jael had finished the upstairs laboratory. Once apportioned for dorm use, so many Queenslanders had died—and no more coming in—that they didn’t need the space anymore. The aliens had their own quarters now, better for keeping the peace. A lot of the men were stupid brutes, and out of sight, out of mind worked on them. It was shitty for the refugees in the sense of fair and equitable treatment, but it was better for them to be safe.

“How much experience do you have with explosives?” Tam asked as he stepped into the new lab.

“I’ve used plenty.”

“But no background in building them?”

“Bombs more than grenades,” Jael admitted. “But I’ve steady hands.”

“That should do. First we have to make the shells.” Tam sighed. “This would be a lot easier if Ike were still around.”

“So many things would be.”

“Truer words. But we’ll make do. I’ve jury-rigged a smelter . . . since I’ve done this before, it’s best if I handle melting down the scrap and pouring in the molds.”

“You’ve been planning this for a while.”

Tam nodded. “It was impossible when everything was scattered and too well protected for me to acquire what I needed, but I’ve long known that what I needed to upgrade our armaments was theoretically available, just not easily acquired.”

“Now we’re set?”

“Yes, the last run took care of the missing components.”

“Then just tell me what to do.”

Tam handed him a list. Jael skimmed it; his reading was sufficient for this though he found it tedious to digest longer documents. That weakness had plagued him through a career as a merc, as he occasionally signed things he didn’t understand, which screwed him later. Word got around that he wasn’t the brightest bulb—that he was easily tricked—and it made life tough as a soldier of fortune. Just as well he’d gotten out of the private-army business and gone to work on salvage instead.

But that didn’t end well, either.

“Make sure to follow the directions precisely. Mixing the chemicals out of order could result in unpleasant results for us. And put on this helmet.”

Though the other man must’ve noticed that Jael didn’t stay injured as long as other people, he decided it was better not to admit that poisonous fumes might burn his lungs but wouldn’t kill him. So he snapped the headgear in place and got used to the filtering system. The enhanced sight and hearing array took him a little longer since it was working on preternaturally acute senses.

For a while they worked in silence, with Tam preparing the grenade casings and Jael measuring and mixing the chemicals. Jael finished his part much sooner, however, because the scrap had to be melted down before Tam could pour it into the molds, then there was cooling time.

“Come back in four hours,” Tam said. “We’ll finish up then.”

At that point, they took a break, and Jael went to the hydroponics garden. He’d noticed that his name no longer appeared on patrol rosters or work lists, but he had to pull his weight, or the men would notice. Sleeping with the Dread Queen wouldn’t keep six pissed off felons from jumping him, and he’d hate to kill even more of their men. They might be needed as battle fodder later.

Vix and Zediah were hard at work when he arrived. Neither one was much for chatting. Wearing an odd, excited expression, she pointed at some plants that needed tending, and he got to work. As he did, he considered Dred’s question from a few days back—about what he saw himself doing once they left Perdition. He’d never been a dreamer, let alone a planner. Maybe that’s part of the problem. But forming ideas about the future seemed oddly treacherous, like a mist-wreathed mountain path where he couldn’t see what lay ahead.

“So how did the two of you end up on permanent plant duty?”

“It was the best solution,” Vix answered. “Zed kept killing men for looking at me wrong. Artan was going to execute him when I convinced him we’d be more useful in here and that he’d eat better, too.”

That’s surprising. He would’ve guessed that Vix was the more dangerous of the two, but more than once, he’d gotten an odd vibe from Zediah. Possibly his intuition was dead-on, reassuring since he wasn’t always the best at reading people. Idly he wondered what kind of body count Zed had racked up—and why these two were here, together.

Jael moved a plant, as all of these had to be relocated in order to flush and clean the pipes. “So the garden wasn’t producing before you took over?”

“Not efficiently,” Zediah answered.

“I can see you want to ask,” Vix said unexpectedly.

He glanced up in surprise, his hands still dripping from extracting the next herb. “Is that an invitation?”

The two exchanged a look, then she nodded. “I don’t mind telling you. We’ve been working together for a while.”

From what he understood of Perdition customs, this was tantamount to declaring formal friendship. If a convict was willing to discuss his past, he meant he trusted you enough to want you to know more about him. Jael felt strangely honored.

“Right then. What happened?”

“He was my student,” she said quietly. “I taught advanced sciences. We met when he was fifteen turns . . . and I was twenty-eight.”

“I loved her instantly,” Zed added with creepy intensity.

Though Jael had met some strange blokes in his time, he could tell by the gleam in Zediah’s eyes that he was more than in love with Vix; he was utterly obsessed. The scar on her face hinted that the story had some twists and turns, especially considering it had started in a school.

“Never went. Go on then.” He continued working, as if he weren’t intrigued.

That seemed to settle Vix down; she got back to business, too. “I was married, and I knew it was wrong when Zed paid attention to me. But . . . he made me feel special, and my husband was often . . . unkind.”

“Did he do your face?” Jael asked.

She touched her cheek, her eyes shadowed with remembered pain, then offered a single nod.

Zed put in, “We were lovers by then, and I knew he’d kill her if he found out. So I did him first.” His tone was cool.

While that was fragged up, it wasn’t the kind of thing that landed people in Perdition, especially not Vix. “There has to be more to it.”

“Much more,” she said softly. “There was a scandal . . . and a long trial. I lost my job. And people persecuted me until I went a little mad.”

Zediah paused in his work, his eyes flat and dark. “I can’t stand when people hurt her. They have to pay.”

I see where this is going.

Vix was smiling a little dreamily. “So . . . we hunted them down, one by one. Everyone who said I was a whore for falling in love with Zed, who said I deserved everything my husband did to me. Bitches like that have it coming,” she repeated, deepening her voice so Jael figured she was quoting a man they’d killed. “How long did it take him to die?”

“Thirty-six hours. That was fun.” Zed was officially the most terrifying person in the place. “There were 112 in all. There would’ve been more because the bastards just never got tired of talking shit about Vix.”

“But the law eventually caught up with us.” She lifted a shoulder, as if that were an inconvenience, not the end of life as they knew it.

“I’m surprised they sentenced you together,” he said. Given how obsessed Zed was with her, it seemed like the judge might’ve punished him by separating them.

“Our attorney made sure the court officials were aware that if they sent us anywhere but here, anywhere apart, that I’d find a way to kill them.”

Damn.

That fast, it wasn’t as restful to tend the plants with these two. Before, he’d thought their devotion was sweet, if slightly strange, but now there was no doubt in his mind that both of them were unhinged. It just wasn’t obvious, like with some Queenslanders. He supposed the benefit was that Zed’s mania was really specific, so to avoid prodding him into a killing spree, you just had to be distant and courteous to Vix.

“I should go see if Tam’s ready to finish the grenades,” Jael said.

“You’ll share your story next time,” Vix said. “I really, truly like you, Jael.”

Somehow it sounded like a threat, and he didn’t enjoy being the object of her interest when Zed was watching with those dead, cold eyes, like he had no emotional responses to anything or anyone who wasn’t Vix. Disturbing. How does that happen? And I thought I was fragged up. Still, he murmured something noncommittal before heading back up to the lab.

“Damn,” he muttered.

“Problem?” Tam asked.

“Vix and Zed are cracked, aren’t they?”

“It’s not immediately obvious, but yes. I’d stay away from her. I’ve heard she makes a sex game of it, trying to make Zediah jealous. If she succeeds, the man dies.”

“And that would be why I’m the only one who volunteers to help in the garden.”

“Somebody should’ve warned you.”

Jael sighed. “Dred probably thought it was funny. Let’s see if the new fish is clever enough to survive the land mines.”

“I’m sure she had other things on her mind, and she knew you could handle yourself.”

Better to give her the benefit of the doubt, I suppose. “That’s the best possible interpretation. Let’s finish these grenades.”

“After this, I need help with another special project if you’re interested.”

Jael grinned. “I could use the work since I won’t be gardening.”