Destiny's Song (The Fixers, book #1: A KarmaCorp Novel) by Audrey Faye Read Free Book Online Page A

stopped an intergalactic war in its tracks—and held peace ransom for enough assets to keep the entity they formed independent and non-aligned ever since. People still didn’t know what to make of a company born from a group of peace terrorists. We were a force to be reckoned with, and in most places, a very respected one. But that didn’t always mean people liked us very much. “We have less power than most people imagine.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like the official company line.”
    It wasn’t. Often, half our work got done simply because of the KarmaCorp mystique. But I was a Fixer with an annoying tendency to tell the truth. I looked at sexy guy’s tat again. Maybe he’d understand better than most. “It’s like your swish suit and jet packs and all that. Fancy toys, but when you’re facing down bumpy solar winds, I bet you don’t feel very powerful.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “There’s a difference between power and control.”
    “Not for a Fixer.” Control was at the heart of everything we did.
    He considered that for a long moment. “That sounds sad.”
    It might to a guy who strapped a jet pack on his back and danced with death for entertainment. “It’s better than the alternatives.” Before the Warriors of Karma, most people with Talent had lived short lives full of misery and destruction.
    He nodded slowly. “It must take a strong person to live with all that.”
    No. Just one who had finally learned to find her purpose in the inevitable. “I just do my job.” And somewhere along the way, I’d learned to like it pretty well. I looked over at Jay, suddenly curious again. “What do you do when you’re not trying to turn yourself into space dust?”
    His grin really was appealing. “I’m an accountant.”
    I leaned back, amused, and shook my head. “And you think my life has issues?”
    His laugh nearly made my seat rumble.

7
    T here’s just no way to travel for days on end in a tin can, even a fairly comfortable tin can, without hating the universe when you crawl out. And the final insult of thirty-six hours in the transpo ferry from Corinthian Station to the landing terminal on Bromelain III had killed any remnants of goodwill I had left. We’d stopped at seven planets en route to this one, and I’d given up trying to keep track of the flow of grumpy humanity around me.
    I stepped out of the disembarking tube into the small, obnoxiously bright waiting area that served as the planet’s headquarters for space travel. My legs felt like they’d picked a fight with a concrete mixer, and I let the surprisingly large number of people milling around push me toward the outer walls. Walls usually had doors somewhere, and I needed a good stretch, something heavily alcoholic, and three days of uninterrupted sleep, preferably in that order.
    “Singer.” The woman who’d suddenly appeared at my side barely came up to my shoulder. “If you’d come with me, I can make you a lot more comfortable in a jiffy.”
    Apparently, I didn’t need to find my local contact—she’d found me. The woman who had magically appeared at my side was tiny, ancient, and spoke with a voice like a cannon. She was also a KarmaCorp legend. “You must be Tameka Boon.” I studied her hands, encrusted with dirt, and her merry laughing eyes. “You’re not what I expected.”
    Her lips twitched with amusement. “Good. I’d hate to be getting predictable in my old age.”
    My eyes were drawn back to her dirt-stained fingers—I’d seen those on Tee far too often to mistake them for anything else. “I didn’t know you were a Grower too.” It was highly unusual for Fixers to have more than one Talent.
    Her laugh was as loud as the rest of her. “Not even kind of, child. I was a damn fine Dancer once, and occasionally my creaky hips still demand a twirl or two. But here on BroThree, you either grow your own food or you eat soy by the bucketful.”
    I scowled. “Soy screws with my vocal