Taming Chaos (Darkstar Mercenaries Book 1)

by Anna Carven

  Torin didn’t have a chance to react. He was blown back along with everybody else. Humans flew in all directions, crying out in shock and alarm.

  The explosion wasn’t fire and energy. It was pressure.

  That thing was a fucking pressure bomb! Thrown backward, Torin landed on his ass with a heavy thud. A disbelieving laugh escaped his lips. Kaiin’s Hells, he hadn’t been thrown around like this in a while.

  The force of the blast had scattered the humans; they’d been thrown back much farther than him. Moaning in pain, the guards struggled to get to their feet.

  Torin blinked, shook his head, and rose. The Ephrenians were moving, retreating into their mysterious ship… with Winters. Somehow, the blast hadn’t affected them. The pressure must have radiated out toward Torin and the humans, leaving the slender ones untouched.

  Fucking Ephrenians and their strange technology. It made them too unpredictable.

  No matter, he would get them in the end.

  The Ephrenians disappeared, and the boarding ramp started to retract.

  “Wait! Where are they going?” That was Markov, his voice trembling with outrage. “Where are our guns? We had a fucking deal.”

  Torin tsked. It was obvious that the Ephrenians’ first priority was to secure the human. In exchange for Callidum. A deal that was too good to refuse.

  Stupidity.

  When Torin got his hands the Kordolian who was behind this, he was going to wring the fucking idiot’s neck.

  The Ephrenians disappeared from sight, along with Winters. The boarding ramp closed. Torin ran, drawing both his swords.

  He summoned his nanite exo-armor. A sharp mental command was all it took to activate the billions of nano-particles coursing through his bloodstream. The symbiotic machines moved out of his veins and arteries, penetrating flesh and sinew and bone. Rising to the surface of his skin, they coalesced to form an impenetrable layer of armor.

  As always, the process was exquisitely painful.

  The emerging exo-structure damaged Torin’s existing disguise, cracking apart the inferior helmet and ill-fitting armor. Shards of metal and synth-glass fell away, revealing glimpses of his true form underneath.

  It all happened in less time than it took for one to draw breath.

  The Ephrenian ship powered up, its rear thrusters glowing green. Hot air swirled around them, followed by an intense blast of pressure. The roar was deafening. Torin forged on, pitting his enhanced strength against the full might of an Ephrenian trader ship.

  Reckless idiots. The Ephrenians were going to make a run for it. A ship of this size was only supposed to power up when all bystanders and vehicles were well clear, but Zarhab Groht wasn’t exactly the sort of place where safety protocols were enforced.

  He pumped his legs, moving faster and faster as the vessel started to lift into the air. It was like moving through thick stasis fluid.

  Move, idiot!

  Behind him, humans were being blown around like fallen leaves. The freighter crate he’d used as cover tipped over, spilling its contents—green and black metal boxes of unknown content and purpose. Grunting with exertion, Torin reached the side of the ship. A sudden sense of urgency gripped him. Any moment now, the thing was going to ascend high into the open space above and cruise toward the massive airlock.

  Then it would blast off, and the woman, Winters—she who was clever, stoic, and all alone, would go with them.

  Even if he returned to Silence and pleaded with the General to track them down, his chances of finding her again were slim. Ephrenians knew how to disappear without a trace, and space was vast. And in the unlikely event that they managed to find her, it might be too late.

  She could be irreversibly… damaged.

  He had to make a choice now. Go with the ship, or risk losing her forever.

  “Argh!” A hoarse cry burst from his throat as he launched himself at the freighter, his Callidum blades extended.

  Thunk. Thunk. Twin lengths of ultraforged Callidum plunged deep into Ephrenian metal and stuck fast. Torin gripped the hilts with all his strength as the ship began to lift. Dangling in thin air, he hauled himself up until his feet were pressed against the ship’s metal wall.

  The roar of the thrusters intensified. The ship gained speed, moving in the direction of the airlock.

  They were heading out into the vast expanse of space.

  He activated his comm, trying to alert Enki to his predicament.

  “Hey, Enki?”

  Zzzzzt. All he heard was a faint static hum. The line was dead.

  What in Kaiin’s Hells is going on? Perhaps the pressure blast had damaged his comm, or maybe the Ephrenians’ energy dampening field was jamming the signal.

  Shit. He was about to blast out into the cold vacuum of space, and his partner had no idea. Torin briefly contemplated yanking out his blades and dropping back down to the lower deck, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

  This is your only chance!

  Enki would just have to forgive him later.

  He had to go with this ship, because he knew it would lead him to the Callidum seller. He had to follow the Ephrenians, because he couldn’t let Markov get away what he’d done, for the simple reason that he didn’t like the guy. But most importantly, he couldn’t leave Winters to the mercy of her would-be Kordolian master—whom he absolutely intended to have a a little chat with.

  And when he was done with the traitor, he would hand him over to the General, and Tarak al Akkadian would figure out a way to scrape all the information he needed from the insides of the bastard’s skull.

  Goddess help the wretched soul.

  As the ship drifted toward the airlock, Torin wondered how the fuck he’d gotten himself into this mess. Really, it was all because of his damn curiosity and his secret affinity for humans.

  And beneath it all was this strange sense of yearning, of protectiveness. Torin couldn’t deny it. Winters—Persephone—was female. Human. Smart. Gorgeous. Betrayed. Alone.

  Something about that particular combination stirred a fierce, dark emotion within him. A certain mood overtook him, making him want to tear apart the very fabric of the Universe itself.

  He had to get her back. For all intents and purposes, she was his, and when something caught Torin’s interest, he never lost focus.

  Obsession. It was starting to take hold. Torin knew the signs. The fact that he was actually clinging to the side of a moving Ephrenian trader ship like some sort of Earth insect while it was preparing to depart into space… well, that was abnormal.

  A shrill alarm sounded, and the massive airlock doors of the trading station began to slide open. As the ship drifted into the airlock, the pressure dropped.

  They were only a few layers of metal away from blasting into deep space, and Torin was about to enter the deep, dark void with only his exo-armor for protection.

  No big deal. He could survive without oxygen for long enough.

  Gripping his hilts tightly, Torin began to saw away at the ship’s thick outer walls. One way or another, he was going to get inside. There was a reason so many alien races wanted to get their hands on Callidum blades.

  The cursed obsidian metal could cut through anything.

  Chapter Four

  Seph shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable. The thing binding her wrists wasn’t that uncomfortable—it was made from some sort of warm polymer that molded against her skin—but her arms and upper back ached, thanks to the awkward position she was forced to assume.

  They were in some sort of outer holding chamber, a small rectangular room illuminated with soft greenish light. The boss Ephrenian, the one who did all the talking, had left her here with two faceless guards. They sat on either side of her, saying nothing. The room was warm and humid, the air stale. Sweat trickled down her face and neck, and she desperately wanted to take off her cloak, but she couldn’t.

  She had no choice but to wait and see where they were taking her.

  Now more than eve
r, she regretted her impulsive decision to take up the job with Nonhuman Affairs.

  Analysts like you come and go.

  In the end, Markov hadn’t given a shit about her. He’d sold her out. The asshole had actually sold her out. And for what? So he could take credit for securing the weapons deal and get a promotion? Because he resented the fact that she studied alien cultures for a living?

  Bastard.

  Because of him, she was on a mysterious ship facing an uncertain fate, and the weirdest thing about it all was that the Ephrenians were shit scared. As soon as the ship’s doors closed, they’d burst into frantic conversation, their rapidly spoken words melding into a long stream of chatter. With her limited grasp of Ephrenian, Seph couldn’t understand much.

  One would think that there would be a translator app for this sort of thing, but nobody on Earth had been able to fully decipher the Ephrenian language. Nobody even knew what an Ephrenian looked like. The slender ones kept it that way on purpose, concealing their features behind those shiny glass helmets.

  Still, she caught a few snippets of meaning here and there.

  Kordolian. Danger. Run.

  How could a single mercenary spook the Ephrenians that much?

  The mercenary had followed Seph’s team down to the lower decks. Had that been his intention all along? Was it no coincidence that he’d taken the same elevator platform as them?

  I want her.

  His words echoed in her mind, sending an electric prickle down the back of her neck.

  Who the hell are you?

  She remembered her initial shock as the mercenary had drawn his menacing obsidian blade. The Ephrenians had actually flinched when they caught sight of the strange black metal. The sword seemed to be forged from the shadows themselves; it absorbed all light, reflecting nothing, obliterating everything.

  Seph’s heart had skipped a beat as the full realization struck her. That mysterious, articulate, tall, intimidating mercenary was a Kordolian. The Callidum in his hand confirmed it.

  Now it all made sense. His flawless Universal. That powerful build. The way he’d seemed so damn relaxed, as if he owned the fucking place. He hadn’t even reacted when Markov pointed his bolt-gun at him and pulled the trigger.

  What kind of monster didn’t so much as flinch when someone shot at them? And then the way he’d taken down those two elite guards, as if they were nothing…

  That had been scary.

  Seph shuddered. And to think he’d tried to bargain with the Ephrenians for her. Why me? What could he possibly want with me?

  She closed her eyes as the ship shook. A low hum reverberated through the walls, and for a moment, there was blessed relief in her arms and shoulders as she became weightless. We’re entering space. For all their advanced technology, it seemed the Ephrenians hadn’t perfected the transition from a gravity-controlled environment into the cold vacuum of space. Then the gravity-whatevers abruptly kicked in, and her ass plopped back onto her seat.

  There it is. They had left Zarhab Groht.

  A wide chasm of terror opened up inside her heart, threatening to swallow her whole.

  Get a grip. Get a grip. Get a grip. She silenced her fear by repeating the mantra in her mind, and after a few deep breaths, her panic subsided.

  Seph wished there was some sort of window or port-hole she could look through, but stark grey walls greeted her on all sides.

  “Where are we going?” She spoke in Universal as she turned to one of her guards, trying to get a glimpse of something—anything—behind that faceless ovoid helmet.

  The Ephrenian didn’t even dignify her question with a response.

  She didn’t know what was creepier: their silence, or the fact that she didn’t really know what they looked like. If Seph’s hands were free, she would have pinched herself. She was caught in a surreal nightmare. Everything had happened so fast, and her overloaded brain was still struggling to process this terrifying new reality.

  “At least tell me who wants me,” she said. “I deserve to know that much.” Tears pricked her eyes as the terrible weight of her aloneness crashed down upon her.

  Nobody was coming for her now.

  This was it.

  The Ephrenians didn’t react. They so were still and silent they could have been statues, not even shifting or twitching. Did they even breathe? Seph wanted to wring their necks. She blinked furiously, refusing to let the tears fall.

  You’ve only got yourself to blame for this, honey.

  She should have played it differently with the team; should have schmoozed, acted nice and deferent, and pretended to be as anti-alien as the rest of them.

  Maybe that would have inspired a little more loyalty in them, but she just couldn’t do fake. Seph had a reputation for bluntness. Subtlety had never been her strong point, and it had gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion.

  And when her stupid rotten temper took hold…

  Damn it.

  It was little wonder she couldn’t get a job at any academic institution on Earth. The bastards had blacklisted her.

  Not a team player. Likelihood of interpersonal conflict: HIGH. That’s what her MQ report had said.

  Fucking bitch. That’s what her academic colleagues had called her behind her back before she’d been thrown off the Board of Xenostudies at the prestigious Cayenne U.

  That’s when Nonhuman Affairs had stepped in and recruited her as an analyst. Thrown a lifeline, naive old Seph had worked hard to be recognized, to be valued, to stand out.

  But now her mission team had let her go, as if she meant nothing to them.

  With colleagues like these, who needed enemies?

  Seph let out a deep, shuddering sigh. Why do I always screw everything up? Once again, she was all alone. Dark thoughts swirled at the back of her mind. She was under no illusions as to what sort of fate might await her.

  Comfort slave? Labor grunt? Experimental test subject?

  Bound.

  Alone.

  Helpless.

  Uncertainty stretched before her like a gaping black chasm, and she silently contemplated the drastic measures she might take to avoid a terrible fate.

  Her mind went to very dark places.

  And then…

  Skkkt. Skkkt. Skkkt.

  What the hell is that noise?

  Her eyes snapped open as a strange sound filtered through the walls. The Ephrenian guards leapt to their feet.

  Disturbance. Disturbance. That was all Seph could understand of their rapid speech.

  One of them pulled out his gun and rushed toward the door. The other remained by her side. The chamber’s door slid open, and foul smelling air flooded the room. Suddenly, Seph couldn’t breathe. An acrid smell surrounded her. It reminded her faintly of rotten eggs—sulfur.

  She coughed and choked. Panic set in. I can’t breathe! She began to hyperventilate. It felt as if a tight band had been wrapped around her chest, and it was squeezing tighter, tighter, tighter…

  I’m going to die!

  Then the doors closed, and the air returned to normal. Suddenly, she could breathe again. The irrational fear melted away, leaving her drained and breathless.

  She inhaled sweet oxygen in great big gulps, her breaths becoming ragged.

  “Oh my god,” she gasped as she realized that the foul air she’d just inhaled was the Ephrenians’ natural atmosphere. “That shit is what you people breathe?”

  Humans wouldn’t survive on Yaragon without respiratory support. If the air she’d just inhaled was anything to go by, the place was fucking toxic.

  As her breathing returned to normal, Seph glanced at her remaining guard, all kinds of desperate thoughts running through her mind. There’s only one of him. Could I possibly… take him on?

  No fucking way. He was packing plasma. All she had were her bound wrists. And even if she did somehow manage to incapacitate the guy—a very big if—where the hell would she run to? Into a ship where she couldn’t breathe?

 
; She was stuck.

  “What’s all the commotion about?” Seph mused aloud. It was more of a rhetorical question, because she knew her guard wouldn’t give her an answer.

  To her surprise, the Ephrenian turned to look at her. Reflected in the glossy surface of his helmet, her own pale, hooded face reminded her of a ghoul.

  “Shadowkin,” was all he said, as if that explained everything. Was it just her imagination, or did his voice tremble a little?

  “Shadowkin?” That was what they’d called the Kordolian. He was here? “What does that even mean?”

  But that was impossible. He’d been thrown back by that crazy pressure blast. She’d seen it with her very own eyes.

  Without warning, the doors opened again. Seph held her breath to avoid inhaling the toxic air.

  One of the Ephrenian guards burst into the chamber, beating a hasty retreat.

  A dark figure followed them.

  “Now close the door, or I will return him to you… without his head.” The speaker violently dragged an Ephrenian backwards, one powerful arm clamped across the alien’s chest. A hostage. He held his very long, very sharp Callidum sword against the Ephrenian’s neck.

  That voice! Deep, rich, refined… Seph remembered it so clearly, only now it sounded as cold and empty as the infinite Universe.

  Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Babumpbabumpbabump… Her heartbeat went nuts. That weird prickling sensation—like static—coursed over her skin. Her eyes widened. Tiny stars flickered at the edge of her vision. She felt giddy.

  She stared at the intruder, unable to believe her eyes. It’s him! How the hell did he get in here? He looked different, somehow. His outer armor was cracked, and she caught glimpses of his true form underneath.

  Pure obsidian. Beneath his regular outfit was a suit, or another layer of armor, or something. Damn, it was like peeling an onion.

  A very, very dangerous onion.

  The doors closed. The Kordolian released the Ephrenian, and the alien stumbled to the opposite side of the room, choking and clutching his neck.

  Seph’s guard raised his gun, aiming it at the Kordolian.

  “Drop it,” the warrior snapped. “Believe me, your plasma isn’t as powerful as you think it is.”