Read Online Perdition (The Dred Chronicles) by Ann Aguirre - Free Book Online
Authors: Ann Aguirre
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ago. I wouldn’t carry his burden for a billion credits
and
my freedom.”
“That’s a firm refusal,” he observed. “And the last man?”
A canny light entered the old man’s eyes, and his thin mouth curved into a smile. “Me, of course. If we’re continuing the royal metaphor, I’d be her harlequin.” At Jael’s raised brows, he elaborated, “I’m the old jester who tells her the key truths nobody else will speak. I’m also quietly her eyes and ears among the men. I take their measure and report any potential problems.”
“You’re telling me this so I don’t become one?”
He shook his head. “No. You asked. Any man with the wit to wonder should have his answer.”
“So she truly is the Dread Queen.”
Ike met his gaze. “In our eyes, yes. She’s made this place tolerable. Most of us have seen what it’s like in Abaddon or—”
“I’ve heard that word before.”
His education was spotty, though, one of the few things that gave him secret shame. Jael wished he knew more than a hundred ways to end a man’s life, more than fifty ways to survive, but life hadn’t taught him those things. There had been no classrooms for him or sessions with a tutor. In the eyes of most, he wasn’t a person in need of education, but rather, a tool to be used, a weapon that fired on command. He wasn’t even sure whether he was on the books as a sentient being, officially speaking.
Ike didn’t comment. “It’s a mythological place from the stories, but it means hell. And that’s fairly accurate, as far as Priest’s territory goes.”
7
The Quick and the Dead
“I’ll take it from here,” Dred said.
She savored the shock on the new fish’s face. He had been so involved in the conversation that he hadn’t noticed her approach. From his reaction, she guessed that wasn’t customary. Normally, he was sharper on his feet; and in here, he needed to be. Though she wondered what Ike had been telling him, the old man wouldn’t reveal anything that could be used against her.
“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,
and
my freedom.”
“That’s a firm refusal,” he observed. “And the last man?”
A canny light entered the old man’s eyes, and his thin mouth curved into a smile. “Me, of course. If we’re continuing the royal metaphor, I’d be her harlequin.” At Jael’s raised brows, he elaborated, “I’m the old jester who tells her the key truths nobody else will speak. I’m also quietly her eyes and ears among the men. I take their measure and report any potential problems.”
“You’re telling me this so I don’t become one?”
He shook his head. “No. You asked. Any man with the wit to wonder should have his answer.”
“So she truly is the Dread Queen.”
Ike met his gaze. “In our eyes, yes. She’s made this place tolerable. Most of us have seen what it’s like in Abaddon or—”
“I’ve heard that word before.”
His education was spotty, though, one of the few things that gave him secret shame. Jael wished he knew more than a hundred ways to end a man’s life, more than fifty ways to survive, but life hadn’t taught him those things. There had been no classrooms for him or sessions with a tutor. In the eyes of most, he wasn’t a person in need of education, but rather, a tool to be used, a weapon that fired on command. He wasn’t even sure whether he was on the books as a sentient being, officially speaking.
Ike didn’t comment. “It’s a mythological place from the stories, but it means hell. And that’s fairly accurate, as far as Priest’s territory goes.”
7
The Quick and the Dead
“I’ll take it from here,” Dred said.
She savored the shock on the new fish’s face. He had been so involved in the conversation that he hadn’t noticed her approach. From his reaction, she guessed that wasn’t customary. Normally, he was sharper on his feet; and in here, he needed to be. Though she wondered what Ike had been telling him, the old man wouldn’t reveal anything that could be used against her.
“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,
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