Perdition (Dred Chronicles 1)

“We’ll have a great deal to discuss tonight,” he replied.

Sometimes prison gossip offered valuable insights; she wouldn’t overlook Tam’s importance to keeping her boots planted firmly on top. He might look unimposing, but he had a whip-smart mind and uncanny ability to predict enemy movements. His skill at going unnoticed was excellent as well. She had sent him more than once to reconnoiter inside enemy territory, and the secrets he uncovered were always invaluable. He had told her that he’d been a spymaster on his homeworld, and that they sent him here when the ruling lord—his former employer—was deposed in an enemy coup. She didn’t know if that was true as inmates were notorious liars, but his skill supported the story.

She nodded a thank-you to Einar. “Dispose of the body.”

All around, the rest of the prisoners went back to whatever had been occupying them before. Which left her standing next to the newcomer. He seemed to be proving some point about his toughness by leaving those knives in his side. Any other man would be unconscious. Not that she cared. Dred only required loyalty.

She fought the urge to offer to tend him herself, but that wasn’t how she did things. “Get patched up. The doctor’s over there.”

“He doesn’t have a name?”

“Not that he’s willing to give. I have his prisoner identification number if it matters.”

“Not at all. And I don’t need medical attention.” He held her gaze as if willing her not to look away as he drew the shivs from his flesh, one by one.

And she didn’t. Dred had seen worse during her imprisonment. She’d seen men flayed alive, men hung on gibbets, men burned beyond recognition. But it was somehow worse when they sickened and died of natural ailments that could be corrected through modern medicine. Here, though, none of it could be mended. They had so little.

As the last knife clattered to the floor between them, Jael pushed out a breath. Blood stained his Conglomerate-issue shirt in three places, but not as fast as it should. His pretty face was drawn taut, etched in the agony he’d endured in some private ritual. It wasn’t her business if he was into self-flagellation, and yet she said, “You’re fast enough to dodge, skilled enough to destroy them. You took those wounds on purpose. What’s the point?”

“The pain is the point,” he answered. “But it also established my reputation. The one who got away will tell others that I’m unkillable. That’s how places like this function.”

“There are no places like this.”

“Which makes me curious what you did to end up here.”

“The same thing as everyone else. I killed a lot of people.”

There were excuses she could offer, explanations, but after so long, it didn’t matter. His blue gaze became piercing, as if he could look through the layers and lies down to the heart of her. She didn’t like the feeling at all. Dred narrowed her eyes.

“Sometimes there are good reasons for that,” he said.

“Do you want me to tell you that I was a vigilante? That I put down more rabid dogs than all the interstellar police agencies combined?” That was true, actually, but she said it in such a scathing tone that she didn’t expect him to believe her.

But she’d judged him wrong. His expression lightened, gained layers of comprehension, and she loathed the stripped-bare feeling it left behind. “But when you hunt monsters, outsiders find it impossible to distinguish you from your prey.”

She hated that he grasped what no one else had. It was too soon, and she wasn’t an equation to be solved. “Don’t. After all this time, I’m just like them.”

“Are you?” he asked.

Dred strode away without answering. The newcomer got under her skin, which meant he was to be avoided. And for the next four days, she did precisely that. He didn’t seem to miss her. Instead, he spent his time getting to know various factions within her territory. To her amusement, he struck the right note with each: Here he was terrifying, there charming, and in other circles, he donned yet another persona. She had to watch him as he was a chameleon, shedding his personality and becoming someone new whenever the situation required. If she let him, he would use that skill to influence her.

“You watch him a great deal,” Tameron said.

Dred started. The only thing she didn’t like about him was how easily he could come upon her unaware. While she trusted him—insofar as anyone in this place—he could so easily slip a knife between her ribs and take over Queensland quietly. But he’d have to come up with a new name. Though to be fair, the convicts had dubbed her territory after the coup. It wasn’t an act of vanity, as Dred didn’t care what they called the shafts and ship space that belonged to her.

“So do you.” That wasn’t a guess. Tam would’ve been observing and collecting data, as that was his habit. “Conclusions?

“It’s impossible to gauge his true nature. Too many masks.”

“And does that make him less dangerous to us . . . or more?”

Tam thought for a few seconds. “More, I think. It’s difficult to gauge whether a dog will bite if it doesn’t growl first.”

“What else have you learned? Not necessarily about the new fish.”

“The word’s out that Grigor means to move against the garden. And I’ve heard whispers that Priest may be planning a joint offensive. We could be looking at simultaneous strikes.”

He’d also informed her that they could expect an assault at multiple points. If that attack came via both Grigor and Priest, it could be catastrophic for their resources. Living in a constant state of war was exhausting. Dred’s temples ached, and sometimes she yearned to stand down, but she had found living underneath somebody else’s aegis intolerable in here. Einar and Tameron had sided with her when she started rallying new fish to her banner. Their loyalty couldn’t be rewarded with apathy.

“What do you recommend?” Few people realized just how critical Tam was to her strategies, and that was safest. If they did, they certainly would’ve killed him.

“It would be best if we could foment some discord in their holdings. Prevent them from coordinating the attacks.”

“Is it possible that Grigor and Priest have allied?” The idea gave her chills.

They occupied space to either side of her. If they set aside their differences long enough, they could conceivably crush her, then divide up her territory and resources. Shaft access might not seem like much, but it permitted Tameron to spy on everyone else with impunity. He knew the maintenance and access ducts like the back of his hand. Her other big asset was the hydroponics garden. Tam had been warning her that things were getting too civilized here—apart from the threat of outward assault, life in her zone wasn’t intolerable. But peace and prosperity made the other leaders want to wreck it.