Dred didn’t need to consult with anyone else to know the right answer. “You can stay. Welcome to Queensland. There are a few rules. No fighting, unless it’s a sanctioned grudge match . . . I’ll tell you more about the games later. They’ve been suspended indefinitely for the moment. No stealing. Sleep with whomever you please as long as he or she is willing. Follow the work roster, complete tasks as assigned, and practice decent hygiene.”
“That’s all?” the Ithtorian asked.
Since she’d heard their native tongue in vids, he must have a vocalizer implanted. “Yeah, why?”
Katur explained, “There were a lot more rules in the Warren, mostly to do with respecting each other’s culture.”
Briefly, Dred wished she’d thrown in with the aliens rather than taking Artan’s bait. It sounded like life had been much better down there. But if I had, they would’ve had no place to go, as Artan’s realm wouldn’t have lasted long against the mercs. So she hoped that maybe things happened for a reason even though she suspected that belief in a benevolent power was the last refuge of a lazy mind.
She answered apologetically, “You won’t find that here. Many of these convicts are left from Artan’s days, and they’re brutes.”
“So they’re likely to pummel us for praying?” Katur asked.
“If they catch you? Count on it.”
She wasn’t sure how anyone could hold on to faith in a place like this, but maybe this was where a man needed it most. A long-forgotten memory bubbled up—usually she tried not to remember her parents, to wonder if they were alive or dead, or how ashamed they must be—but she remembered her mother’s murmuring over the evening meal a litany of thanks to Mary and pleas for the health and comfort of her loved ones. Hail Mary, full of grace. Thy spirit is with me. Blessed are we among all people, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, this world. Holy Mary, Mother Goddess, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen. It seemed she could recall the words in their entirety; but then, her mother had spoken them each night before bed, murmuring beside Dred’s bunk.
They must be old now. If the Science Corp hasn’t tracked my dad down. If they’re still alive out there. But framing the mental question hurt so much, she had to stop. Most days, it was best to consider Perdition the beginning and the end of the universe, as reminders that it used to be so much bigger and more beautiful could kill her with the longing.
With effort, Dred put aside the unusual introspection and beckoned to the newcomers. “It’ll be best if I introduce you right away.”
“Thank you,” Katur said.
She didn’t kid herself that this would be a smooth and seamless integration. Nonetheless, she strode into the common room with the aliens in her wake. Men froze, then scrambled to their feet; most had weapons in their hands before she could speak. So she vaulted onto the nearest table and let out a bloodcurdling war cry. The shock stilled the Queenslanders for a few moments, then she unwound the chains from her arms and slammed them three times against the tabletop, chipping off bits of resin.
“Are you listening, men? I’m in no mood to repeat myself.”
“Yes, my queen!” The reply didn’t come as neat in unison as it ordinarily did, but since no combat had broken out, she’d call it adequate.
“Today, you join me in welcoming new warriors to Queensland. You will not judge them by their skins. You will treat them as any other comrade. Is that clear?”
“Filthy alien-loving bitch!” From her vantage, she couldn’t identify the malcontent, but Tam and Martine tag-teamed him, dragging him out of the crowd.
Jael followed them, but he didn’t intervene. Just as well. The rest of the men needed to see she had support from people she wasn’t sleeping with.
With a sharp smile, Martine kicked him in the gut, and the scrubby man bent double. He was almost as old as Ike but less prepossessing, with greasy iron gray hair and a matted beard. From the way his mouth had sunken in, Dred didn’t imagine he had many teeth, and his cheeks were veined from years of hard drinking. His small eyes shone with hatred over being asked to cooperate and cohabitate with nonhumans.
So many years after the Morgut War, after aliens saved us, and we still hate like this.
Though she could scarcely afford to lose a single man, Dred had to make an example of him. “You’re saying you’d rather die than follow my edict?”
She scanned the crowd to see how they were taking this, and they seemed more interested in the prospect of a sudden execution than the arrival of a few aliens. That was good. The spectacle would probably grind the edge off their xenophobia. She wouldn’t goad someone to this point, but this Queenslander seemed to have a death wish.
“Damn straight.” He screwed his mouth up as if to spit on her, and Tam backhanded him so hard, the old man hit the ground with a spatter of blood.
When he climbed to his knees, practically snarling, his lips were split and stained against his gums. Dred didn’t let pity move her. Yes, he was decrepit, but he could also sow hatred and rebellion among her people. It can’t stand.
So she merely nodded, and said to Tam and Martine, “Hold him.”
They complied, one on each arm, and she could tell that Martine in particular enjoyed keeping the captive on his knees. She kicked him as he fought to rise. The severity of his situation didn’t seem to have sunk in yet. While she ran a less bloody regime than Artan, it didn’t mean she was the forgiving sort.
She turned to Cook, who was standing nearby with his chopping knife. “Get Einar’s axe, please.”
They kept it hanging in a place of honor on the wall, so the chef jogged across the room. The axe was a huge weapon, crafted especially for the big man who had fallen just before the battle with Grigor, out of scrap metal and honed to razor sharpness. The steel haft had leather wrapped around it to make it easier to hold, and it was stained dark from so much blood. She suspected the cost of rebellion must be sinking in when the old man pissed his pants.
Cook made a production of the retrieval, pulling it off the wall with great ceremony, then he lofted it a few times, just so the spectators had a sense of how bloody huge the thing was. Dred took it without revealing how much the weight pulled at her injured arm. Hope I’ve got enough range of motion to see this through. She’d lose credibility if she had to summon someone to perform executions, now that Einar was gone.
Miss the big guy.
“Hold him for me,” she instructed Cook.
In reply, Cook forced the old man down and shoved a chair under his cheek to serve as the chopping block. Dred took a couple of practice swings and then cut clean through the old devil’s neck in one slam. The head bounced away in a red streak while his neck jetted blood all over the floor. She kicked the body down, then raised the weapon.
“Anyone else want to debate immigration policy with me?”
14
Burying the Dead
After leaving Ike and Cook in charge, Dred convened a meeting. Jael, Martine, and Tam followed her to the training room, currently unoccupied. That was likely a good call, as four aliens came with them. Her quarters weren’t big enough to comfortably accommodate everyone, and circumstances had changed. The room smelled like sweat, but it was reasonably clean; Calypso insisted.
Jael closed the door after them. There was no lock, but he doubted anyone would be crazy enough to snoop so soon after the execution. In fact, that was all anyone could talk about as they left the common room. They’d set a few of Cook’s assistants to cleaning up the blood and disposing of the body. With luck, it would be done before the late meal.