Perdition (Dred Chronicles 1)

It was time to play. “The fastest of you maggots gets to live. Return to your master and tell him that Queensland has a new champion. Now run.”

Jael laughed as a small, wiry man launched into motion. He went like lightning, leaving the rest to die. They hardly realized they’d lost the race when he killed them. There was no pleasure to be found in other people’s pain, so he made it quick. Farther along the checkpoint, Dred had beaten her opponents into submission. She finished three of them with quick, efficient jabs of her knife, but the last man, she left alive.

“Take him,” she ordered.

Is she talking to me?

Oddly, he didn’t offer a clever reply. He’d served as a grunt before, answering to a commander’s whims. When the pay had been right, he could be obedient. There was no pay here, but perhaps there would be fringe benefits if he played his cards right. He wondered if she didn’t notice the blades in his side; most people reacted the first time they saw his difference. Even forewarned, they couldn’t help the instinctive revulsion. Her brusque manner made for a welcome change.

Jael stepped forward and bent to lift the prisoner. Each movement sent slashes of raw anguish through him. Though he could heal the damage, he still felt all the pain. He still slung the man over his shoulder and turned to follow Dred back toward the main hall of the compound. Einar and Tameron met them at the first checkpoint; he expected some challenge from the big, scarred man, but he was waiting for a sign from his queen.

Interesting. Even the alpha males defer to her. There would be no territorial pissing here. He wondered how she managed that.

She gestured. “Bring him for questioning.”

Jael obeyed, mostly because he was curious to watch her in action. From all over the compound, her men encircled the proceedings. They were silent, watchful, and it was a little unnerving from so many undisciplined killers. He didn’t understand the dynamics here, and such lack of insight made him nervous. He had to figure out the hold she had, how she manipulated the rest. She didn’t dominate through pure physical strength; that much was certain.

“I killed a scout recently,” she told the man on the floor. “Now Grigor’s sent a full hunting party. It wasn’t enough to take back territory, so why don’t you tell me what he’s after?”

“I’ll die before I talk.” The prisoner spat, baring yellow teeth.

“You’ll die regardless. But I get the choice of whether it’s quick or slow. I can make it last days. We have medicine to heal you, just so I can start all over again.”

Color leached from the captive’s cheeks. “You wouldn’t waste supplies on me.”

“Wouldn’t I?” she asked the big, scarred man beside her.

“You’ve done it before. Can I have him to play with for a bit? If you’re finished.”

5

True Intentions

“I don’t imagine you need me for this,” Tam said.

Mindful of appearances, he waited for Dred’s nod of dismissal. Though he didn’t consider her his superior, it mattered that the men perceive his role as subordinate. He’d always preferred working behind the scenes. That way, if things went catastrophically wrong, it was somebody else’s head on the chopping block.

He avoided a couple of conversations with men who wanted to press him for information on whether Dred was ready to choose a consort. They saw Einar and himself as bodyguards, not serious contenders for a place in her bed. Einar would like to change that status, but Tam’s tastes ran in other directions. He slipped out of the hall with minimal fuss and negotiated the borders without the sentries seeing him. There was a certain risk in what he was doing, as Dred didn’t know of his excursions. He told himself she’d approve them if he mentioned it, but it was best to maintain plausible deniability. If he was caught behind enemy lines, she could honestly claim she knew nothing of his mission and cut him loose. Tam thought well enough of his skills that he was willing to risk it.

The lights were spotty in this part of the corridor; many had been stolen, the rest burned out, and it allowed him to scramble into the ducts. Baby rodents scurried ahead of him, and he made a face as he crawled past their droppings. The adult creatures didn’t fit up here, but the beasts made a nice addition to the stewpot when they caught them. Unfortunately, the things preferred the bowels of the ship, so the aliens enjoyed more fresh meat than any other sector.

Tam had long since memorized the twists and turns that would carry him above Grigor’s meeting room. If he hurried, he might catch the end of the messenger’s report. As he’d understood it, the new fish, Jael, had sent a runner back with a message. Grigor might reveal something of his plans, which would permit Tam to develop a counterstrategy.

Grigor, who was also known as the Great Bear, had a booming voice, audible even at a distance—and right then, he was shouting at the top of his lungs. Tam moved closer, enough that he could make out the words, even when the Bear regained some self-control.

“You dare to return to me on your knees?” he was raging. “Carrying word from some new fish who calls himself a champion?”

“I thought you’d want to know about the danger, Grigor. When I came to warn you, he had three knives in him, and he was smiling.” Tam wouldn’t have gone that route, as brutes like the Great Bear didn’t appreciate any intimation that they might be bested, especially in combat.

There was a wet sound and a fleshy pop, confirming Tam’s appraisal. For a few seconds, silence reigned, then Grigor’s heavy boots thundered against the floor. Pacing in a fit of rage . . . that’s a good sign. Angry men made irrational decisions, yielding the tactical advantage.

“Not a single survivor,” the Great Bear snarled, “apart from this coward.” The thump made Tam think Grigor had kicked the corpse. “So we learn nothing about her defenses, nothing about her numbers, nothing about her response time. That was pointless.”

Grigor wasn’t the smartest leader in Perdition if he thought sending ten men would yield significant insight. It would’ve been more productive to send one man, skilled in stealth, to prowl around and slip out without being seen. But the Great Bear did not specialize in subtlety; he was all boom and bluster, snarling mouth and roaring wind. He also tended to kill men who counseled him otherwise, which hamstrung him in a battle of wits. Yet he didn’t lack for numbers; he conscripted all the mindless brutes and those with a yen for blood.