Breakout

by Ann Aguirre

Music thrummed from Hidden Rue, but then in the short time she had been here, it always did. From what she’d seen, it never closed. There was always a dancer onstage, always at least a few drinkers watching or doing business. She passed through and headed up to their suite. Jael was inside already, poring over something on his handheld. A frown furrowed his brows, and he didn’t seem to notice her. Dred closed the distance to peer over his shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He started. “Didn’t hear you come in, love. Where have you been?”

  “Checking on some things with the others.”

  “Ah, so they found the place. That’s good.” He was so distracted.

  “Didn’t the meeting go well?”

  “Hm? No, it went fine. That is, I’m still waiting to hear. This is something else.”

  “Is there a problem?” Dred tried not to sound impatient, but she was used to being in charge and having all the information before anyone else.

  “Not exactly,” he hedged. Then he seemed to focus on her expression and apparently realized she wanted details. “Sorry. I think I made a good impression on Madame Sorush, but she’s not rushing into an alliance. Not that I blame her.” Then he told her about the citizenship requirements and how he’d already invested the necessary funds in Hidden Rue. Jael concluded, “Now I have the forms to submit, but I’ve hit a small hitch.”

  “What is it?” Concerned, she leaned closer.

  With a faint sigh, he tapped the screen, zooming in. She saw that the “surname” space was blank. All at once it hit her. He doesn’t have a last name. At one point, he’d told her that even his first name came from the initials of the scientist that had created him.

  “I’m not sure what to do about that,” he admitted quietly.

  The words came out before she properly processed them. “Use Devos.”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “Unless you don’t want to. It’s a pretty notorious name, now.”

  “Are you proposing to me?”

  A hot flush washed her cheeks. Mary, how long’s it been since I blushed? This is ridiculous. “No. I was just offering a solution to a problem.”

  “You sure that’s all?”

  “I’ll let you know if I change my mind,” she muttered.

  He touched the handheld, then hesitated. “The same surname will definitely foster the impression that we’re a married couple. You all right with that, love?”

  “It won’t bother me.”

  With no further hesitation, he entered Devos into the field and flew through the rest of the document. Happiness didn’t begin to describe his expression when he transmitted the final forms; it was more like pure radiance or incandescent joy. Dred felt weird using those phrases even mentally, but they both applied.

  “It only takes twenty-four hours,” he said, smiling. “As long as Pace’s solicitor files everything as promised.”

  “So that means you’ll be a full citizen of Gehenna, this time tomorrow. Congratulations.” While she couldn’t pretend to understand how much it meant to him, she could guess. For the longest time, he’d been a thing in the eyes of the law.

  He nodded, eyes overbright. “I can vote. Run for office. Own property.”

  Dred perched on the arm of his chair and wrapped an arm around his neck. It was impossible not to kiss his forehead in silent gratitude. Now Jael would have legal recourse; he wouldn’t need to resort to carnage that resulted in his inevitable capture.

  “I like the ring of Senator Devos. Is that what you want?”

  “I’m not sure. Never thought about it. Before, I was always running, just trying to stay alive. Now I have time to breathe.”

  And live, she thought.

  • • •

  THE next day, Jael stared at the courier package. Pace’s solicitor had been as good as his word, so he unwrapped it. The documents he held proclaimed his citizenship in black and white, red stamp, gold foil. He hadn’t expected it would feel like this, but after so many turns, it was . . . overwhelming. For long moments, he held on to his desk.

  The long wait is over.

  Soon thereafter, Tam rang at the suite door and came in with an information packet on the Quintel Consortium. He made his presentation efficiently, then said, “My advice is to proceed with whatever business plans you’re making, solidify your position before taking action. It will be better if you can respond to their offense from a place of strength.”

  Jael nodded. “Dred is out with Pace right now, looking at real estate. We can’t stay at Hidden Rue forever.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “A ten-story building. The bottom floors will serve as our corporate offices. Then we’ll remodel for flats on the top levels. I meant to ask you about that, actually. I reckon we need one for Dred and me, another for you and Martine, then one for Calypso. Or do we need four?”

  Tam smiled. “Three would be fine. I’m just a little surprised you want to keep us all so close. Don’t you want separate houses, a normal life?”

  Jael set down his precious citizenship papers. “No, I really don’t. I don’t think I’d sleep well if we were spread all over the city. What if something happened, and I couldn’t get there fast enough?” It was more honesty than he usually offered but the other man had asked. “Maybe it’s trauma talking or habituation, but . . .”

  You’re family to me, all of you.

  Tam was quiet.

  “If I’m presuming too much—”

  “No, I think a private flat will be fine, though I’ll need to check with Martine, of course. If you haven’t guessed, I’m rather at loose ends. My plans never extended to what I’d do, should I survive an escape attempt.”

  “There’s a job for you here,” Jael said. “Analyze data for me, the way you always have. I’ve got credits, now I plan to found an empire. But the right people are critical for any start-up.”

  “Make me an offer.”

  They talked terms for close to an hour, and, at the end of that time, Jael signed a contract with Tam. He’d never put his name on anything before; there would’ve been no weight, no meaning. For a few seconds, he stared at the signature: Jael Devos. Tam watched him, wearing a faint smile. The smaller man seldom gave away his thoughts, but he seemed pleased by the agreement.

  “Do you think your better half will be willing to sign on?”

  “I’ll talk to Martine and get back to you, but I can’t imagine she won’t be interested.”

  Just then, his handheld buzzed with a message from Dred. Found a likely locale. Come and see?

  He sent back, On my way.

  There was no need for a jacket. Gehenna climate didn’t change. “Did you want to scout the property with me?”

  Tam shook his head. “I need to find out what Calypso and Martine are plotting.”

  “Then I’ll see you later.”

  The building they had found was exactly ten stories, as he’d requested. It wasn’t located in the aerie, so the premiums weren’t as high as they might have been. Yet property in Gehenna was always expensive because of limited space. A sales agent chewed Jael’s ear off, explaining that the area was a “bridge,” whatever that meant, and that it was becoming gentrified. He shot Pace a look, who read it correctly and led the woman away so he could talk to Dred.

  “What do you think?”

  “She said it intersects a fair number of communities.” That wasn’t really an answer.

  He stood gazing up at the façade, a sort of neoclassical design. The style wasn’t modern, and someone had leased one side to augment failing revenues, so there were a series of flashing advertisements for other businesses. Those would have to go.

  “You don’t sound enthusiastic. Shall we head in?”

  The foyer had clearly been grand at one time, but it was grungy now, a little worn-down, wi
th scuffs on the floor and dings in the walls. The structure would require an external facelift, much like Hidden Rue, plus a full remodel on every floor. Jael didn’t have the skill set to estimate how much all of that would cost. There were few mod-cons; the two lifts were dated and creaky when he and Dred inspected the place floor by floor.

  She was oddly silent, venturing no opinion, even after the lift doors opened onto the final stop, a single open space. Instead, she paced to the windows that flooded the room with light. Clearly, this had been the penthouse office of some failed business. He could still make out divots in the ancient carpet where the desk legs had dug in. But he could envision the room transformed; there was already a kitchenette and executive san. It wouldn’t take much doing to turn this into a home. Mentally, he mapped it out, placing furniture and choosing the décor.

  “I don’t want to hire someone,” she said unexpectedly.

  “What?”

  “If we buy this place, I want us to fix it together. It will slow your plans somewhat, but . . . this is the only way I’ll feel part of it, not just tagging along on your goodwill. I think they call it sweat equity.” Dred let out a nervous laugh. “Anything we don’t know how to do, we’ll learn.” She was watching him in the glass, apparently unable to face him, as she whispered, “I want to build a home with you.”

  In that moment, he wanted it too, more than anything.

  41

  Calm Before the Storm

  Dred lifted her drink to toast everyone gathered around the table. Pace had shut down Hidden Rue in celebration, both because of Jael’s investment in the club and purchase of the building that would serve as corporate headquarters. Since Jael was a new stockholder, Pace had also invited the dancers to get to know the new silent partner, so it felt like a real party. Loud music streamed from the walls, the clink of glasses mingling with the scrape of cutlery.

  “We may be in the suite upstairs longer than expected,” Jael was saying to Pace.

  “Oh?” The club owner raised his brows.

  Jael explained their plan to renovate the acquisition themselves. Calypso seemed excited by the news. “I can get on board with this. You know I’m great with my hands?”

  One of the performers glanced over at her. “Are you now?”

  Calypso grinned and got up to dance. With the club empty, there was plenty of space. Dred couldn’t help but feel that this was the calm before the storm. While she wanted to celebrate, in her heart, she was waiting for the next explosion. The Quintel Consortium still loomed over Jael, the Ronin mercenary group might retaliate, their own citizenship issues were up in the air, and the silence from Madame Sorush bothered her. How hard is it to make a decision, yes or no? She loathed powerful people who got off on jerking others around. Maybe that wasn’t what Sorush was doing; she might be looking into Jael but while they waited, Dred hated feeling vulnerable.

  Martine elaborated with palpable excitement about her plans to install a state-of-the-art security system. Since she’d specialized in circumventing them, that sounded right up her alley. Meanwhile, Jael was all about business, making plans with Domingo Pace. Dred didn’t realize her discontent was obvious until Tam leaned over.

  “You’ll find your place,” he said.

  “That’s not . . .”

  “Something else?” He paused, thoughtful. “Let me guess. You feel strange. Displaced. He needed you before . . . and now it seems like he doesn’t.”

  I wouldn’t admit it even if it was true.

  It was natural for things to change once they left Perdition, but he clearly had more than an inchoate idea of what he wanted to accomplish if they got out. Because she’d learned to fear dreaming, she hadn’t allowed herself more than the occasional stolen glimpse of sky or the remembered wonder of luxuries no longer available to her. Now I have to catch up . . . or risk being left behind.

  “I’m fine,” she said, mustering a smile.

  Tam surprised her by saying, “I expect the grim foreboding to fade sooner or later. We’ve been living in the midst of a crisis for so long . . . it’s impossible for us to stand down all at once.”

  “He seems all right.” She watched Jael from across the table.

  “I suspect life has forced him to become more adaptable than most. Set aside your worries for a night, Dred. The sky won’t fall on us.” That was such unusual advice, coming from the perennially cautious Tam, that she figured he must be right.

  Ronin Group doesn’t know where we are. Neither does the Quintel Consortium. It’ll take time to track us down, so I might as well cut loose.

  The party raged late, and she woke in the morning with no memory of why she was asleep under a table with a strange woman curled up against her. She crawled away, eyes gluey, and found Jael sprawled on a bench, facedown. His fair hair stood on end, and his cheeks were creased from the synth. She stood by him for a few seconds, just smiling, as the others stirred.

  “What a night,” Calypso moaned.

  Pace clapped his hands. “Everyone up and out. I have a crew coming in to fumigate the place. I need the club open in an hour.”

  “We don’t have to go home, but we can’t stay here?” Trust Martine to manage a quip even as dry heaves wracked her.

  Somehow, Dred rounded her group up while Pace dealt with the hungover dancers. She herded them to the guest suite, mostly because they all needed food and a bath before she’d unleash them on the world. Mary, this is a strange job for the Dread Queen.

  Once everyone had eaten, they showed no signs of being in a hurry to clear out. Tam and Jael holed up to talk strategy while Calypso was skimming on the handheld, comparing prices on the supplies they’d need to reno the building, and Martine kept trying to take it because she wanted to check out the latest security developments.

  “My knowledge is no longer cutting-edge,” she complained to Calypso. “You’re actively sabotaging me right now.”

  That word reminded Dred of Silence. No. Rebestah Saren.

  Fortunately, she still had the one they’d found on Perdition. It was even older than Jael’s, but it still connected on the bounce. Dred ran a search, scanned her cred stick to pay for the background check, and came up with the information she wanted a few minutes later.

  I didn’t think it would be that simple.

  Quietly, she read, Rebestah Saren, aged 25, died on Monsanto Station. Parents deceased. Survived by one brother, Duval Saren. For an additional fee, she could acquire his personal data. Did she want it? Dred hesitated only a few seconds, then she touched her cred stick to the screen again. The bounce code followed, along with his address, date of birth, and other information that she was faintly alarmed to acquire so easily.

  There was more privacy in Perdition.

  “What are you so focused on?” Jael asked.

  “Following the clues Rebestah left us.”

  Chagrin and guilt flashed in his blue eyes. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

  “It’s all right. I didn’t.” She told him about locating the woman’s brother. “I’m wondering if I should send a message.”

  “And say what? That she didn’t die all those turns ago?”

  She sighed. “True. We can’t tell him that Monsanto turned her into a madwoman.”

  “In this case, love, it’s best if we leave the man’s scars alone. Our energies are best directed elsewhere.”

  “Like . . . where?”

  Jael told her.

  • • •

  WITH the dirt they already had on the Monsanto executives, Jael set Tam to digging.

  Soon he had the answers he needed. While the VP had died in a shuttle crush only two turns after the station closed, Administrator Levin had enjoyed a meteoric rise. Now eighty-eight turns and robust with Rejuvenex, he was currently CEO of a luxury travel company with offices on Venice Minor.

  “How’s this?” Tam ask
ed.

  Jael scanned the data. “You were very thorough.”

  “That’s why you pay me the big bucks,” the other said.

  “That reminds me. Have you decided where to invest your credits? I can’t write an official indemnity policy for you until you take care of your citizenship. We’re fudging the work permits, as is.”

  A laugh escaped Tam, and he shook his head. “Never thought I’d hear the Dread Queen’s champion talk like that.”

  Jael grinned. “Isn’t it grand?”

  Once Tam left, Jael went looking for Dred. The others had taken temporary lodgings nearby, and he couldn’t wait for the materials Calypso had ordered to arrive. But until then, this mission was just as important as anything he might achieve in his lifetime. Dred was studying the forwarded files on her handheld when he found her. She was a serious person, more than he’d realized at first in Perdition. But he liked getting to know this side of her and finding that she wasn’t just sardonic humor and a yen for violence.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked.

  “About what?”

  “Administrator Levin. He turned Rebestah into Silence, and look at him now.” Countless features on the news net showcased his lavish lifestyle.

  She watched a few more minutes of garden parties and yachts, glittering galas and extravagance, before saying, “Let’s crush him.”

  That decided, Jael contacted Madame Sorush because he thought she might benefit from the fall somehow. And if he proved he could be useful, she was more likely to come down favorably as his patron. So he left word with her assistant and waited for a call back. Several hours later, her comm code pinged on the handheld.

  He activated the chat. “You must be wondering why I’ve gotten in touch.”

  “People usually wait,” she admitted. “But your message was . . . intriguing.”

  Dred made a face on the other side of the unit, but Jael didn’t dare glance at her. If he started laughing during the call, it could ruin multiple layers of plans. “I have some life-changing news on Nial Levin. You might find it relevant for a number of reasons.”

  “The CEO of Diamond Tours?”