Page 5 of Taming Chaos

A lone mercenary had entered the cage with them. Seph couldn’t make out what he was, because his features were hidden behind a shiny black faceplate, and although she couldn’t see his eyes, she got the impression his attention was focused solely on her.

A strange sensation rippled down her spine. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t warm and fuzzy, either.

What the hell?

Now why would she be feeling like this? He was just another mercenary, one of hundreds she’d seen roaming around Zarhab Groht. He might even pose a threat to them.

Stop imagining things, idiot!

But she couldn’t stop stealing glances at him. There was something different about this merc. Although his battle-armor was nondescript—she couldn’t see any official insignia—it failed to hide the power lurking beneath.

He was a specimen, all right. Broad shoulders, rippling arms, imposing height… his was a body built for power and speed.

It was also a heavily armed body. The hilts of two long swords emerged above his shoulders, and a pair mysterious firearms were holstered against his torso.

What the hell was he? Chikaran? T’al Raasa? Velkrae? Seph racked her brain, trying to think of all the species that could be a match for his particular build.

Kordolian?

Can’t be…

The latter was the most unlikely option. What the hell would a Kordolian be doing all the way out here? There wasn’t anything on an Outer Sectors trading station that they could possibly need.

He definitely wasn’t human, that was for sure, but whatever he was, he was as cool as a cucumber.

With two-dozen bolt-guns pointed at his head, the merc nodded toward their group, completely unfazed. “Going down?” His Universal was surprisingly polished. The way he spoke, they could have been in a public elevator back on Earth, with bland, relaxing elevator music playing in the background.

It was absurd, but Seph nodded back at him. After all, he was looking at her. Suddenly, she was glad for her travel cloak, which hid her distinctive hair and complexion.

The merc hit a small panel at the edge of the platform. Without warning, the elevator dropped. Seph’s stomach leapt into her throat. Despite its battered appearance, the elevator platform’s descent was almost soundless, and fast.

They reached the lower level in a heartbeat.

“After you,” the merc said, his voice tinged with gentle irony.

Actually, his was a rich, resonant voice, the sort that might be more at home in a lecture hall rather than on a perilous and grimy trading station.

“Let’s go.” Markov’s sharp command ripped through Seph’s curious musings. The agent ignored the merc entirely, moving to the head of the pack.

As they filed out of the elevator, the mysterious merc hung back, waiting until they were all off the platform before making his move.

The guards were marching away, and Seph had no choice but to go with them. She was like a fish caught up in a fierce current.

Still, she managed to steal a parting glance at the merc. As he exited the elevator platform, Seph was struck by the way he moved. Despite his size, he was graceful and silent. There was something almost feline about him. More than ever, she wanted to see what lay beneath that featureless helm.

Impossibly, the merc tipped his head in acknowledgement, the polite gesture strangely out of place amidst all the danger and tension.

Seph wanted to nod back, but she was already moving, leaving the stranger behind as they ventured into unknown territory.

They were probably the first humans to ever set foot on the lower decks of Zarhab Groht.

How terrifying.

How thrilling.

How insane.

Despite their differences of opinion, there was an unspoken sense of acceptance amongst the humans; a terrible truth that nobody dared to voice aloud.

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