Perdition (Dred Chronicles 1)

“As you like,” Ike said.

He moved off and stretched out to catch a nap. That was fairly rare. In most territories, you couldn’t afford a sound sleep, as it was likely somebody would shank you for the pleasure of it. Or worse. The new fish was studying her again with those deep blue eyes, too vivid against the pallor of his skin. He had good bones, though. She didn’t want to notice that. He was handsome, and he knew it, a well-made male animal.

“You said something about taking me in hand?” The question contained a mocking tone.

“Not exactly. But I prefer you address your questions to me.”

“You seemed busy.”

Their conversation was attracting attention, and a few men sidled closer to eavesdrop, so she beckoned him to follow. She led the way out of the main hall, which had been the primary mess, she suspected, back when the ship was used as a mining refinery. Fortunately, her zone also had facilities for the workers, which meant some privacy. Most of them were cramped, stacks of bunks one atop the other, but she had the foreman’s suite, a little bigger than the rest. It was antiquated and relentlessly gray, but power came with compensations for the weight she carried to keep Queensland running smooth.

Once the door swished shut behind them, she said, “I can see that you’re not one to coast, so I can reckon you an asset, or you’ll become a malcontent, causing problems I can’t afford.”

His brow went up. “You’ve judged me so swiftly.”

“Am I wrong?”

To her surprise, he laughed. “I definitely have my own agenda.”

Ah, the impossible dream. She didn’t need to be a telepathic Psi to grasp his meaning. “Let me predict your path. For the next two turns, give or take, you’ll devote yourself to learning the ship’s systems, security measures, and routines.”

“I dislike being so predictable.”

A faint pang of sympathy went through her. It hadn’t been so long, relatively speaking, since she went through those desperate motions, sure she would be the exception—that she could chart a path out of here and get back to what had passed for her life. But the problem was, there were no routines. The transport shuttles arrived irregularly, and everything went into lockdown. There was no way to implement a plan that required timing and preparation when you had mere minutes to get in position.

She’d tried, more than once.

Failed.

“Feel free to test my conclusions, but . . . escape is impossible.”

“So,” he said gently, “is my very existence. And yet here I am. Therefore, I submit to you that every problem has a solution. We simply haven’t identified it yet.”

Fascination sank sharp teeth into her, driving Dred to ask, “What do you mean?”

It was unprecedented; she never asked personal questions. From the faint flare of satisfaction in his blue gaze, he knew it, too. The bastard. But he wouldn’t be drawn.

Jael merely shook his head. “I haven’t known you long enough to trust you with my deep, dark secrets, queenie.”

“As I recall, you said you didn’t have any.”

“A man who ends up in here is definitely a liar, and that’s likely the least of his crimes.”

“Is it yours? I thought all convicts claim to be innocent, wrongly accused.”

Jael shook his head, his eyes feverish with intensity. “I’m a wicked thing, make no mistake.”

“Your honesty is refreshing. And yet I think one who admits to being a beast cannot be so rotten as he claims.”

“You’ll be searching for my halo next. I’m sorry, love, but it’s out for polishing.”

That rejoinder, quick as it was, reminded her of an issue, one she’d left for too long. “When Grigor’s men attacked, you called yourself my champion.”

“You take exception to that?”

“It implies I can’t fight my own battles.”

“Even warrior queens have a knight who fights at their word. It doesn’t mean you can’t. Only that I will.”

She’d intended to smack him down, discourage the presumption, but his words intrigued her. “So if I say kill, you’ll kill?”

“Will it earn me perks and pleasures?” His look heated.

“That depends on your definition.”

He lifted one shoulder in a careless, graceful half shrug. “I’ve been used as a weapon before.”

“But you didn’t like it.” By the infinitesimal widening of his eyes, he was surprised she’d guessed that, but his aura gave away flashes of color, hints of old pain. Her ability used to only function on violent emotions, but she’d found her empathy to be like a muscle; the more she used it, the more she could, and the more emotions she detected. It wasn’t always welcome.

He changed the subject. “If you don’t mind, I’d like some answers. I had more questions for Ike, but you sent him off.”

For some reason, she feared what he might ask. Personal matters were verboten, but her filters had been faintly askew with this fish since he entered Queensland. He’d gotten her talking about her father, for Mary’s sake, without half trying. Who knew what he could persuade her to reveal if he applied himself?

“Give me the lay of the land. I ken there are territories, but how many, who runs them? That sort of thing.”

Relief poured through her in a calming tide; her shoulders relaxed. Dred could handle inquiries about how Perdition ran. “What did Ike tell you?”

“He’d just mentioned Abaddon and Priest when you arrived.”

“A religious zealot who’s created a cult of sorts. Everything Priest does is for his own self-aggrandizement and to reward or punish true believers.”

“He’s mad, then.”

“As a hatter. There are six territories, counting mine. Four are governed by men.”

“And they are?”

“Mungo, who rules over Munya. Not sure if it’s named after him or the word means something.” She took Jael’s shrug to indicate he had no idea either. “They’re not too nice about their eating requirements, if you take my meaning.”

“Cannibalism?” Horror drew his brows down, his lips tight.

Good to know. He apparently has limits.

“Among other things. They take prisoners in raids and then have a barbecue. It plays hell on the ventilation system, and the smell . . .” Dred closed her eyes.

Jael swore softly. “I’m starting to reconsider this place being better than the Bug prison.”