This crop looked particularly sad. A few of them were crying, faces wedged between their knees. They all wore prison-issue gray, numbers and chips in the backs of their necks. Most of them had been shorn and deloused, though a few looked as though they had been dragged from the darkest hole in the system, then set on fire. The weak and wounded wouldn’t last long; she ignored them.
Then her gaze lit on a man near the back. At first glance, he looked young, but his eyes refuted the initial assessment. Though he was slim and clean with a crown of shining blond hair, his summer sky eyes held a hardness that came only from turns of fighting, turns of violence and despair. He might well be the most dangerous man on the ship.
Time to find out if he’s stable.
Giving Tam and Einar the order to guard her, she closed her eyes and let slip the dogs of war.