Free Breakout by Ann Aguirre

actually got inside. Dred didn’t know the back way into the territory, as she’d followed the Speaker in through the front door, so to speak. There were two sentries on watch, both painted with the disconcerting death art that made it impossible to read their expressions. Even from this distance, he could tell that they were awake if not alert. Most of the lights had been disabled, leaving only a flickering overhead here and there, and a miasma of smoke hung heavy in the air. It smelled like every village he’d ever burned, all the corpses he’d ever flung on an open fire.
    He found a scrap of metal and chucked it between two watchmen. That instant of distraction was all he needed to race up and snap their necks, two clean twists. Jael grabbed their arms and guided their bodies down to avoid the thud. Surely others must be nearby, and they’d recognize that sound. Then he stepped into Silence’s domain, ready to end her.
    Like a shadow, he prowled amid piles of dried skin and bones, heaps of rotting meat. Though he’d seen countless wartime atrocities, never anything like this, and more than once, he had to choke down the bile pooling in his throat. Breathing the fetid air alone felt like it might kill him. He skirted a pair of bodies writhing together in the blood and filth, playing some unholy game with their blades. Honest to Mary, it felt like a mercy when he snatched up a discarded knife and cut the woman’s throat cleanly, only her partner didn’t seem to notice. He kept moving on her, transported with grotesque, inhuman ecstasy. So Jael killed him, too.
    It’s like these daft buggers are stoned out of their minds.
    As soon as the thought registered, it rang true. There was no other explanation for how completely Silence controlled her minions.
But what’s she feeding them? How do they make it?
If he could find her chem and torch it, Death’s sodding Handmaiden would find herself at the mercy of deviants in withdrawal. While he’d much prefer to stick a blade in her neck, he didn’t
see
her. He found the massive bone chair that she presumably used when she was in residence, holding court over madmen and junkies, but it sat empty while her followers humped and moaned, oblivious to his presence.
    This doesn’t make sense. How can they have the presence of mind to patrol? So maybe this is their off-duty reward?
His skin crawled. Before he went after the drugs, he had a score to settle on behalf of all the Queenslanders who had died in their sleep.
    Jael’s blade gleamed in the half-light.
Payback’s a bitch, innit?

8
    Truths Writ in Blood
    As the hours wore on, it became clear that Redmond wouldn’t rally.
    While she and Jael might’ve fought through most of Silence’s toxins, the merc didn’t have their augmented immune systems. There was no antidote, either. Each of Redmond’s breaths sounded wet, a sign that his body was shutting down. He thrashed and moaned, sweat beading on his brow.
    â€œGet the droid,” Duran said hoarsely.
    Calypso laced their fingers together and, with some surprise, Dred noticed that he didn’t pull away. It was strange how fast bonds could form in this place. Maybe it was even as simple as the fact that the mistress of the circle had chosen him. Saying
You belong to me
was enough to change everything.
    Silently, Vost powered it up, and the medical bot confirmed that Redmond’s lungs were filling with water, but it didn’t have the capacity to help with his wounds. Duran cut Dred an accusing look, one that said,
He’s dying because we treated you instead.
    She couldn’t deny it.
    Hours passed, and he only got worse. His breath came in gurgled, choking rasps, and his lips held a blue tinge. Redmond tried to say something, but he fell into a coughing fit. Vost knelt beside him.
    â€œWe both know how this ends, sir. Make it quick.”
    â€œI’ll do it,” Dred