Dark Sun - 1. Chapter 1

I.

The alarm buzzed insistently.

Ignoring his attempts to swat the snooze button and return to the embrace of a blissful sleep, and with an exasperated grumble, he resigned himself to waking sufficiently to do the job properly by slamming a better aimed finger at the contact.

Nothing happened. Inasmuch as the buzzing continued, its artificially bright and sunny tone contrasted with his mood and raised his level of consciousness another notch. The fundamental problem was not his clock making the noise; the culprit was his comm-unit, located further away on the desk in his small bedroom, indicating that he had an urgent message that demanded attention and acknowledgement of receipt.

Who the fuck was sending him a Priority 1 message at this hour? Surely not...

Pulling his eyeballs from the back of their sockets long enough to focus, he registered the time; 4:57.

“Fuck!”

He threw the clock across the room and it slammed into the wall, a satisfying crunching noise his reward. Something had to suffer, the poor appliance merely a stand-in for whomever the fucking maggot joker prick was who thought this a good idea. Standing, he reached for the comm-unit and hit the acknowledge button to cancel the alarm before more electronic debris hit the floor.

The shower of plastic had another effect. The sound roused the other person in the bed from his own sleep.

“Er…hey?”

“Go back to sleep”

“I would but I seem to have half the pieces of an alarm clock in bed with me and they aren’t as much fun to sleep with as you.”

Unable to stifle a slight laugh, he turned to the bed, and, in the dim light of the glow panel, contemplated the person lying in his bed. The kid was even beautiful in semi-darkness, he mused. That was what had drawn him.

He had come into the bar alone and obviously nervous, and the man had sized him up quickly from his usual booth by the fireplace. About twenty, clean cut, probably a university student on the lookout for some risky fun. Probably rebelling against his comfortable middle-class existence and his parents’ benign despotism. He had come to the right place for risk, not necessarily for fun. This bar was a haunt for a certain type of character, not the ones you would generally find in the genteel surrounds this kid probably grew up in.

The man was about to relax and enjoy the show when he caught sight of the kid in the low light of the bar, and was captivated. Tall and lean, curly blonde hair, a cute face with a lopsided grin, and bright-green eyes that shone with life even in the dark. He had a momentary mental picture of those eyes staring up at him as he fucked the living daylights out of him. As sometimes happened, his cock made the decision for him, and he rose, silent as a wraith, to rescue the kid from the other clients, or at least claim him as his own. Rescue was strictly not on his agenda.

He had not been disappointed with the result. The feel of the kid’s impossibly tight ass tingled on his rapidly re-hardening cock, a ghostly memory that he hoped to rekindle with the real thing.

“Then wait there quietly and I’ll come back and give you something to make you forget about the clock!”

What the kid lacked in experience he more than made up for in stamina, something the man was looking forward to enjoying just as soon as he could read the fucking message and get back to more enjoyable things.

He pressed his forefinger against the bio-reader on the comm-unit and began the familiar routine.

“Message receipt -”

“One message -”

“Message details -”

“Sender unknown. Origin Kalarin Prime 217.2318 Terran standard. Text only. Length one line -”

He was grateful his face was away from the kid, for he would have had to explain the sudden pallor that covered his face, and the grim look that accompanied it. His voice betrayed a slight unease.

“Display message -”

The words scrolled across the screen, short and to the point, a message for him alone.

“Dannerfell IV, Samuels, 3-2-7, immediate -”

“Fuck!”

“That was what I was after!” the kid said.

Scowling, he turned to the kid, thoughts of fun by now erased.

“Jaden, get dressed. You’re leaving, right now.”

The kid started to protest, but when he noticed the expression on the man’s face, he bit his lip, nodded, and retrieved his scattered clothing. Pulling on boxers with the awkward grace of a guy half-awake and half-drunk, he looked up. “Will…will I be able to see you again?”

“No.”

A long bitter sigh escaped from Jaden’s lips. “But…”

The man moved with surprising speed for his size. His hand suddenly shot up and landed on Jaden’s neck. He did not press hard but the threat was there sure enough.

“Listen to me and listen good kid. You were nothing more than a fuck, a damned good one, but just a fuck. A piece of ass. I enjoyed it but that’s all. You have no idea who I am, and you don’t want to know. Now go back to your nice home and your nice family and find yourself a boyfriend you can write love letters to. Someone with whom you can share Christmas. Someone who has a dog called Rex. Someone to decorate a fucking apartment with. You had a nice walk on the wild side tonight but the fun is over, and I’m not your fucking guidance counsellor.”

Released, Jaden slumped onto the bed, a hint of tears formed in his eyes, which he sought to conceal with a quick wipe of his fingers.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t what it was for me, at least not after... I thought…never mind.”

“You’re too young and too pretty to think, Jaden, so don’t try.”

In spite of the deliberate insults, Jaden couldn’t help but laugh, his face breaking into his trademark half grin.

“Private Welmark, Jaden T, reporting SIR. Yes sir, I hear and obey, less thinking, more dressing.”

“Cut that shit out…”

“Why? Because it reminds you of being a marine? I’m right aren’t I? That tattoo on your shoulder -the eclipsed sunburst. I’ve heard of it, it means you were in the 10th legion.”

He stood, hands flexing as if deciding what to break next, breath coming in a long shuddering hiss.

“Be oh-so-very careful Jaden…”

Jaden gazed at him with shining, green eyes that displayed a mix of emotions. It made the man nostalgic, and not a little sad, seeing those eyes.

Eyes that didn’t yet know how important it could be for survival to show nothing of the soul inside to the outside world. Funny that the kid should be so innocent given what we got up to tonight, but that is what he is. Naïve. And long may he stay that way if I have any say in it.

“I may be young but I’m not as stupid as you think, Taris. For example, I know a marine when I see one. And I know when someone is trying to be a bastard to protect me from something worse.”

The man tried to hide his surprise, a slight click in his throat the only outward sign, but he was taken aback. He had underestimated the kid.

“Tell me Taris, is that even your real name?”

“No.”

“Would you at least tell me what it is…?”

“Oh kid, I don’t even know what it is anymore.”

“But I’m right aren’t I? You are a mercenary?”

“No.”

It was Jaden’s turn to be surprised. “But…that bar, your tattoo, I thought…”

“Jaden, you have no idea what I am. Now it’s time for good boys to be home in bed, and despite what you want to think, you are a good boy. Now, git!”

Oh Jaden, if you only knew.

With an inner chuckle, he watched the kid dress and leave, a lingering backward glance from those green eyes a lasting memory for the night to come.

He sat for a moment on the bed after the door closed, replaying the evening in his mind. The look on the kid’s face when he had entered him for the first time. It had taken all his control not to laugh and spoil the moment. Fear. Trust.Need. All there and obvious. Something about the kid made him live up to the trust; he was gentle and considerate until he was ready. And afterwards, when they lay exhausted together, something he had not wanted to see, feelings he could not return.

“Oh fuck Jaden, forgive me,” he spoke out loud.

That did the trick. With a snort, he pulled himself together.

“On second thoughts kid, don’t forgive me. Thank me.”

By necessity, his was not a sentimental occupation. They had words for people who were sentimental in his line of work. Zombies…walking dead.

He turned on the computer console on his desk and began. The coded message gave him a starting point. Dannerfell IV, a new planet for him. Undoubtedly one of the reasons he had received this assignment, although he should have been on leave after his last assignment only two weeks ago. As the hours ticked by, the memory of a vulnerable green-eyed student faded, leaving only a residual horniness that he would satisfy on his next break.

Finally, with preparations finished, he lay in bed with a large drink and an identicard, retrieved from a small hidden compartment in his kitchen.

“Well Jaden, if you need a name, for the next few weeks you can call me Jarrick Samuels. My friends call me Jazz.”