Taming Chaos (Darkstar Mercenaries Book 1)

by Anna Carven

  “Is this a fucking joke, Winters? I don’t like doing things half-assed, and I’m not going to sit around and wait while some other asshole buys up our supply. I’m not leaving here without everything I came for.”

  “We shouldn’t rush into this. Culturally, they—”

  “Winters, I don’t care about your cultural bullshit. This is a business transaction, not a fucking alien love-in. My orders are to secure the weapons at all costs.”

  “I think this is a test, Markov. They’ll interpret our actions as weakness.”

  “I’ve got authorization to increase the bid if necessary.”

  “I’d advise against that. I’m going to pull our offer.”

  “You don’t have the authority to do that, Winters. You’re a goddamn analyst, not an agent. Your job is to provide me with advice, and the only reason you’re here is because some desk-humping asshole in Central Command had to tick a fucking box. It’s my job to decide whether I’ll take your advice, so shut the hell up and let me handle this.”

  Torin’s hackles rose as he listened to the heated exchange. The man called Markov was arrogant and condescending. Fool. Some humans simply failed to recognize their limitations.

  “What are the terms of the new contract?” Markov asked, ignoring Winters’ sharp intake of breath—a sound of pure, unadulterated frustration.

  Torin’s irritation rose along with hers. His fingers twitched, seeking the familiar comfort of his sword-hilt.

  “There is a job opening specifically for a human. It needs to be filled urgently. Are you willing to help us?”

  No, no, no. Someone was about to get screwed, and it wasn’t the Ephrenians.

  “What do you need?” Markov sounded genuinely surprised.

  “Her.”

  Ah, fuck. They are seriously going to do this body-trade thing in front of me? Now he was going to have to intervene. He had a particular loathing for the flesh trade, and humans had the potential to become a sought after species. Thank the Goddess Kythia had met its downfall, because otherwise there would be a steady stream of human slaves heading toward the Dark Planet right now.

  A soft snort escaped his lips. Since when had he grown so attached to these contrary beings? Well, not to all humans. Just the ones that interested him.

  “I’m not interested in any job offer.” Winters stepped back, her voice full of poorly concealed alarm.

  “One of our clients has need of a human companion. You will be well taken care of.”

  “I’m sorry, but no.”

  “We accept.” The one called Markov leaned close to Winters and whispered in her ear. “Since you love aliens so fucking much, why don’t you go and work for them?”

  “What the hell are you doing, Markov?”

  “Just acting in Earth’s best interests.”

  “Y-you can’t be serious.”

  “You’re going to be our bargaining chip, Winters. There’s a nice, what’s the word… serendipity to it, don’t you think? You set up this meet, and now you’re going to be the one who seals the deal.”

  “Markov, stop fucking around. You don’t have the authorization to do this. Central Command will have your ass if you try anything stupid—”

  “The CC wants plasma guns. Analysts like you come and go, but a weapons haul like this doesn’t come along every day.” Markov looked up at the Ephrenians. “We accept.”

  “No…” As Winters looked around, the armed human guards stepped back, creating an empty ring around her. It was as if a pack of wild animals were casting out one of their own.

  Four more Ephrenians appeared on the ramp. Now there were ten in total. They stood about a head taller than the humans, and with their reflective ovoid helmets, they looked cold and impassive. Like the others, their long, lean bodies were clad in shimmering metallic suits. A slim breathing apparatus rested against their backs, feeding life-sustaining air into their helmets.

  The lead Ephrenian handed a small metal disk to Markov. “Your acceptance has been recorded. Here is a copy for your records.” He turned to face Winters, his smooth helmet reflecting her pale face, distorting it into a shapeless pink and brown blob. “Your people have decided to sacrifice your life for the greater good. You should be honored, but I sense you are unwilling. Do not shame yourself, human. It is a fair deal.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to go ballistic on you.” As Winters lifted her chin to glare at the Ephrenian, her hood fell back a little, revealing determined brown eyes.

  Torin noticed the quiver in her voice. He saw the way she clenched her fists. Her entire body was trembling beneath that dark cloak.

  Oh, but she was furious.

  Betrayal. Humans seemed to be almost as good at it as Kordolians.

  Nobody came to the defense of poor, dignified Winters, the mysterious human who spoke Ephrenian. Shocked and alone, she stood in the center of the ring of humans with her head held high, the anger rolling off her in waves.

  Winters looked to the rest of the humans for support. “Markov’s out of line. This is crazy. There’s no way I’m going to agree to this ridiculous arrangement. He has no right.”

  Several of the guards looked away. It was almost painful to watch.

  “Davis, surely you don’t agree with this bullshit?”

  A slim, dark-haired female who was dressed in the same fashion as this Markov shook her head. “He’s my superior,” she said coldly. “I follow orders.”

  “I can’t believe this.” A forlorn expression crossed Winters’ face. “When I don’t return to Earth, there will be an investigation. Central Command will go through everything. They’ll take your mission logs.”

  The woman’s plight stirred something powerful inside Torin. He wanted to go to her, to stand beside her and say: I’m with you.

  He started to move.

  “We grow impatient.” The Ephrenian’s voice changed, becoming harsh and thin. “Your representative has agreed. We will take you and the originally agreed upon sum of three billion credits in exchange for one hundred standard plasma-fire units.”

  “He doesn’t represent me. He’s agreed to this against my will.”

  “You humans place too much importance on free will. There is nothing more to discuss.”

  “Markov, you fucking asshole.” As the Ephrenians moved into position around her, the woman turned to glare at the one who had betrayed her. “You’d better pray I don’t come back to Earth, because when I do, I’m going to kill you slowly, and I’m going to savor every minute of it.”

  “Goodbye, Persephone Winters. Just remember that you’ve done a great service for the human race. This is a historical moment. If you make your way back, I’ll put in a special recommendation for you.” He winked. “You deserve the promotion.”

  Torin wanted to punch the irritating smirk right off the human’s face.

  The lead Ephrenian beckoned to Winters, crooking his long, spindly finger. Come. They were all around her now, outnumbering her ten to one.

  She had nowhere to go.

  That was when Torin walked out from behind the freighter crate, no longer bothered about being seen.

  He moved toward the group, his footsteps silent on the cold metal floor. Several of the Ephrenians glanced sharply in his direction.

  The humans didn’t notice a thing until he was way too close.

  “You humans shouldn’t waste your time with plasma guns,” he said, shrugging as twenty-odd bolt-guns were swiftly aimed at his head. “Have any of you actually ever tried to fire one of those things?”

  “Who the hell are you?” Now Markov was pushing through his guards, striding toward Torin with a gun in his hand. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

  Torin ignored him and kept walking. “The recoil on a plasma gun can be an absolute bitch. Trust me when I tell you that human bodies weren’t designed to withstand such forces.”

  “Crazy motherfucker,” Markov uttered in English. “What the hell would you kno
w about humans?” He pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  Torin inclined his head. “More than what you know about Ephrenians, apparently.”

  Panic set in. Markov tried again, pulling the trigger several times. Clickclickclickclick. “What the hell is happening?”

  Torin decided to mess with his head a little. “Winters probably knows, but I’m guessing she isn’t going to tell you, now that she’s upset with you.”

  “Shoot him.” Markov motioned to one of his guards.

  The human hesitated.

  “Shoot him, goddamnit!”

  Torin didn’t even flinch as the guard’s bolt-gun failed to fire.

  Thrown into disarray, the humans stepped back, frantically checking their weapons.

  Markov looked at Winters, his face full of suspicion. “You know this guy?”

  “I have no idea who he is,” she said, managing to inject a hint of irony into her voice. Her lips quirked. “Never seen him before today.”

  Torin caught movement from the corner of his eye. Ephrenians. Long-fingered hands went to discreetly concealed guns. Like almost everybody on this stinking crime-haven, the Ephrenians were packing major heat—and theirs was plasma.

  Markov gestured to his soldiers—all twenty-four of them. “You assholes have fists, blades, superior numbers… can somebody please take this idiot down?”

  “Don’t.” Torin’s warning was like thunder. He was done playing. After witnessing the humans’ duplicity, the only one he felt like protecting was Winters.

  He was about to blow his cover. Ah, screw it. These things happened from time to time.

  He drew one of his Callidum blades.

  Time seemed to slow. The scene before him unfolded in the strangest of ways, and if Torin wasn’t so focused on his target, he might have found the whole thing absurdly funny.

  The Ephrenians froze in their tracks, momentarily turning into slender statues.

  Some of the human soldiers didn’t appear to understand the significance of a Callidum blade, because they drew their weapons—short daggers with vicious looking serrated edges—and moved into formation.

  A group of four human males stepped forward to intercept him, their combat armor creaking faintly as they moved. The bulky armor seemed to hinder their movement rather than enhance it.

  The two agents—Markov and Davis—stiffened, their eyes narrowing as they tried to decipher the meaning of the curved obsidian blade in Torin’s hand.

  Realization dawned quickly. Markov swore. The Ephrenians stepped back.

  Torin inclined his head. What are you going to do now? The decision to reveal his blade was a calculated one. Kordolians were the only known race throughout the Nine Galaxies that wielded the dreaded Callidum.

  This is who I am. This is what I am. Do you seriously want to challenge me?

  Now, humans and Ephrenians were united as they faced him. The Kordolian Empire might have fallen, but the terror Torin’s people had wrought on the Universe still lingered. Sometimes, reputation alone could be as effective as any weapon.

  But Torin didn’t care about what the human guards or the Ephrenians thought. He was entirely fixated on Winters and her fascinating reaction. As she turned to stare at him, the light hit her eyes, dividing her irises into a million shimmering shards. They weren’t exactly brown, but a mixture of all the natural hues of Earth—green, gold, brown, and perhaps even a hint of blue.

  On this dark, forsaken shit-heap, she was Earth.

  Her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped, and her pink lips parted in surprise. Almost imperceptibly, her throat moved back-and-forth as her breathing quickened.

  She was astonished, but she was also afraid.

  Hello, Winters. He wished she could see his face so he could give her a reassuring wink, but that would have to come later. Right now, he had to deal with these mad humans.

  A human soldier lunged at him, attempting to drive his blade into Torin’s neck. At the same time, another guard tried to tackle him, going for his midsection.

  Torin swung his blade in a lazy arc. All of a sudden, he changed its direction. With a vicious snap of his wrist, he rammed it hard and fast into the first soldier’s armored foot.

  “Aargh!” The man screamed, dropping to his knees. Crimson blood pooled on the floor.

  In a single fluid motion, he reversed his swing, pulling the blade out from where it had stuck through flesh and sinew and bone, before penetrating the metal floor itself. He smashed the butt of his hilt into the other attacker’s face with a satisfying crack.

  Struck by the full force of a First Division warrior’s blow, the man was thrown back. He landed on his ass, his hands flying to his helmet. A gaping crack had appeared in his faceplate, and there was blood coming from one eye.

  Torin swung his blade around again, sliding it into its sheath. “Your guns won’t work here,” he said, ignoring the two men he’d just incapacitated. “Your blades can’t touch me. Did you not hear me the first time? I told you, don’t.”

  “He’s outnumbered,” Markov snarled, turning to his men. “What are you doing? Take him down.”

  “Shut up,” Torin snapped. Such recklessness angered him. “What kind of commander are you, sacrificing your men for no reason? The next time, I won’t show any mercy.”

  The humans muttered amongst themselves. Torin ignored them, turning to the Ephrenians. Well, he didn’t entirely ignore the humans. He kept them in his side-view, ready to explode into motion if they tried anything stupid.

  Whimpers of pain reached his ears as the two injured ones tried to limp away.

  Several of the human soldiers moved forward to intercept him, but stopped when the lead Ephrenian held up his hand.

  Stop.

  “What do you want, shadowkin?” The trader called him by an ancient name, one that was reserved only for Kordolians. He loomed beside Winters, a faceless figure clad in shimmering grey. The way the Ephrenians moved was strange and boneless and graceful, as if their lean bodies were made of liquid.

  “Berhak du amaakat,” Torin said, putting his rusty knowledge of Ephrenian to good use. I have come to trade. He suspected his pronunciation was fucking terrible, but he didn’t want the humans to understand a thing.

  “What do you need?”

  “Nothing. But you have something I want.”

  “Oh?” Sniffing a potential deal, the Ephrenian’s entire demeanor changed. The alien’s tense limbs loosened a fraction, and his voice became soft and eager. “And what would that be?”

  “I want her.” He nodded in the direction of Winters.

  She stiffened, staring at him as if he were some sort of vicious predator.

  Fear and mistrust. That’s what Torin read in her eyes. He wished he could convince her that he wasn’t what she thought he was, but now wasn’t the time.

  “Our client has presented a very generous offer for this human,” the Ephrenian informed him. “Very generous indeed…”

  Torin read between the lines. What the alien trader was really saying was that Torin would need to bid higher to secure his prize.

  On Zarhab Groht, everything was negotiable.

  “I can beat whatever he’s offering you.”

  Winters’ sublime features twisted into an expression of confusion, punctuated with a little outrage. How dare you bargain over me? That’s probably what she was thinking. Torin didn’t blame her.

  “Callidum. That what our client will give us in return for this human. You also seem to have plenty of it, shadowkin. That is our price, and it is non-negotiable. ”

  Callidum? That meant the Ephrenians’ so-called client was Kordolian! According to Enki, Callidum weapons were already being traded on Zarhab Groht, and it seemed there were more where those came from. This Kordolian—whoever he was—was willing to give away some of his precious stash in exchange for a human.

  It made sense. Who else would be so desperate to get their hands on an Earth-dweller? Ever since the good General had
done the deed and defied the interspecies mating rule, rumors of human-Kordolian compatibility had spread far and wide throughout the Nine Galaxies.

  Rumors had turned into legend, and now all Kordolian males were desperate to get their hands on a lush, soft-skinned human female, Torin included.

  Of course there would be those who would try and obtain their mates by force.

  It was Kordolian nature.

  Torin shook his head. “My Callidum is most definitely not for barter. What I offer you is something far more valuable.”

  “What could that possibly be?”

  He laughed. “Your lives.”

  The Ephrenian stiffened. “You can’t take us all, fiend. If you move, we shoot.” He spoke to his team in low, rapid-fire Ephrenian, the words coming out too quickly for Torin to understand clearly. Crazy Kordolian… diversion… we have her… leave now… somethingsomething…

  “What the hell is going on?” Markov chose that very moment to insert his irrelevant self into the deal.

  Winters tried to pull away, but the Ephrenian lunged, capturing both of her wrists.

  “Get your hands off me!” She struggled, but the Ephrenian was stronger than her.

  Enough. Torin pulled his sword. “Should have taken me up on that offer,” he muttered.

  With great difficulty, the Ephrenian secured the human’s hands behind her back.

  “Some fucking job offer,” Winters yelled at Markov, her face turning red with anger. “You’re a spineless asshole, Markov.”

  A strange device appeared in one of the Ephrenian’s hands. Before the alien could activate it, Torin surged forward and whipped out his sword, severing the creature’s hand at the wrist.

  The alien howled. Green sap-like blood sprayed everywhere. His hand landed on the metal floor with a soft thud, and something rolled out from its long-fingered grasp.

  A small sphere dotted with blinking green lights.

  Boom!

  As it hit the floor, the fucking thing exploded.