Stars Gods Wolves by Dan Kirshtein (good books for 8th graders .TXT) 📗

shouted as the nearly three-hundred-year-old song was played over the much-distorted speakers for the fifth consecutive time. “Josie, hand me your sidearm!” he called over the harrowing harmonies that also just seemed to be shouting at this point.

Boomer bounced, mumbling along, knowing the words at this point.

“Don’t you fucking start,” Nitro pointed firmly to his demolitions expert. “Josie, give me your fucking gun, or I’m just gonna use what I got.”

“Leave him be,” Gally laughed.

“Is he leaving me be?!” It was hard to tell when Nitro was joking, but he never talked this much when he was actually popping off. “Is he?!” The harmonies from 1966 drilled into their heads at maximum volume. “JOSIE!” Nitro shouted with an outreached hand. “GUN!” She finally rustled around in her seat and handed it to him. It was a small white plasma pistol, recently cleaned.

When it was fired at the god-forsaken speaker, Nitro only set the levels to about fifty percent: much higher than what was advised within a flying spacecraft, though just over what was enough to destroy the overhead speaker.

It fizzled out, and Nitro’s clenched teeth finally gave way. His breathing still labored, he let out an exhausted “Thank you.”

Ox leaned, quietly and slowly, to his friend. “What’s a California?” He wasn’t very good at it, but the group could tell when he was trying to whisper. Boomer used his good hand to put two of his fingers into a V and put his thumb in the middle, indicating it was a drug one injects into one’s arm. “Ah,” Ox nodded, looking back at his friend with a knowing and slightly disgusted nod.

The Atticus:Just above Heru’s atmosphere

If Josie had hair, she would have been pulling it out. Even so, her right hand journeyed up her shaved head, only to grip nothing. She sat, leaning forward, with a large piece of paper in her hands as Ox sat in front of her.

Large white tubes were splayed in front of the Waykind, each of varying size, with holes at different spots along them. They’d finally stopped rolling down the cargo bay, thanks to Ox’s strategic leg positioning, and he managed to assemble the vaguest skeleton of what the stand looked like on the box. The Waykind looked up at her expectantly, so Josie read on.

“Insert Rod C into Slot 9.” She tried to ignore Boomer giggling next to her.

Ox’s eyes were tense as his massive fingers pushed in the delicate rods as carefully as he could.

“Gyrate to lock securely.” Boomer giggled again. Josie’s jaw clenched; her eyes slowly drifted from the piece of paper to her snickering colleague. This time, she would certainly hit him. The demolitions expert took the warning and slid further down the seats, away from her.

“Anything I can do to help?” Gally asked in a bored and slightly desperate tone, as she sat on Josie’s left.

Josie gave her an unimpressed look. “Not unless you can load the guns.” She gave her a small, doubting smirk before looking back at the directions.

Ox’s deep voice mumbled something inaudible as his tongue protruded slightly from his mouth. When it went back in, he finished the sentence. “And all of your ancestors.” He struggled before the tubes gave a satisfying pop. “There!” He looked up and smiled at Josie, who was immersed in the directions. Determined to share the victory of not breaking it with someone, Ox then smiled at Gally, who only returned it out of sympathy.

Gally stood up, stepping over Ox’s giant leg. She approached the box of rifles, and just avoided colliding with Nitro, who gave no regard to the area around him as he hopped in the corner.

He bounced and bounced before finally looking up to see Gally within inches of him. He stopped immediately and stepped back. For one small instant, he looked calm and organized. For an even smaller instant, he looked strong. “What’s your man look like?”

Gally blinked; her first instinct was to tell him that she didn’t have a man, and it was rather forward of him to ask such a thing. When his actual meaning dawned on her, she hid a smile and looked away. “He’s the only Human in a bunker full of Heruleans. Try not to shoot him, okay?” She grabbed the box and returned her eyes to the captain with a sly smirk before sitting down near him.

Nitro grinned and pointed to the box she held as she pulled out a rifle. “This thing won’t be anywhere near him. Promise.” He pulled a bungie-like cord from a nearby panel and wrapped it around his waist.

Gally nodded as she took out one of the battery packs and removed the plastic wrapping from it. She noticed Nitro was watching her, but she carried on as she grabbed the rifle, opened the cartridge, and then loaded the battery inside. She pulled a lock on the side of the rifle and heard it whine to life.

Nitro laughed through his nose. Not wanting to indicate he was impressed, he found a wall to stare at.

Heru:Formerly unknown location

Heruleans looked very similar to Humans, but with midnight blue skin and dark blue hair that was thick and shiny. Kackla was a Herulean prison guard who absolutely loved his job. His hair was short and perfectly coiffed, while his green eyes seemed annoyingly excited to be alive.

Perhaps he had good reason; in just two months he’d be off this awful rock, back into the arms of his equally pleasant wife, and they’d take their kids to the Wackano, a very icy, very cold vacation island on a faraway moon. He thought he’d better brush up on his Wackan.

His working days were full of the easiest, most mindless tasks that he completed simply. All the while, he listened to broadcasts that helped him learn another language. When he arrived at his final station, he popped the audio devices out of his blue ears and moved his narrow, pleasant face into the tiny window of