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

when you’re ready, okay?” She nodded, thankful to no longer be the center of attention as the others finished suiting up.

Atop the environmental suits, they also donned bluebane armor. It was a separated plate armor that protected from old-fashioned bullets and knives, as well as plasma. It was clearly designed by Humans to defend themselves against other Humans. Sure, the universe was more creative than just those things. And, yes, Purple Company had come across a few instances where the armor wouldn’t help. But they depended on the white, blocky armor for most situations.

When he was finished, Harper grinned proudly at himself, looking down at the paraphernalia. He knocked on the large plate on his chest and looked around, making Josie roll her eyes. “Whenever you’re ready, newbie.” He’d nearly forgotten. Harper turned and pressed the button for the bay doors.

The doors opened, the walkway extended, and the gray wind howled. Purple Company could no longer hear each other’s voices, save through the communicators in the helmets. They walked, very slowly, out of the Atticus.

Ox was the next to last to touch the planet’s surface, and when he did, he buckled. The Waykind fell to one knee, grunting. When the others turned, they watched him remove his helmet. No longer in his friends’ ears with the microphone, the Waykind let out a deep and burdened roar. Even in distress, he was careful not to harm the others. Nitro approached, concerned for his friend.

His labored roar slowly dipped into speech. His booming voice could be heard over the howling winds. “Apologies, friends. I should’ve expected this.” He clenched his jaw, his staff helping him to his feet. “So much death.” He squinted and raised his chin, as if looking out over a crowd. “I must be the first of my kind to greet them.”

The group watched as he slowly stepped away from whatever he was staring at, waving his hand as if to say goodbye. Slowly, the Waykind donned his helmet once again. And they walked.

3

I swear to God, if I see one more ad for the relief effort for the Blues, I’m gonna lose it.

You guys on Maxia got it easy, somehow. They didn’t fuckin’ stroll past us!

We got our fuckin’ asses kicked, and now they want our help?

Fuck no.

Sorry, I just hate all this.

We fought a war, for shit’s sake.

And everyone keeps looking at what we did to them, but nobody wants to talk about us!

I was there, man.

And I can’t forget it.

Anonymous transmission,

Scrambled month, scrambled day, 2302

Sabile:Research Station 2

Nitro tried to ignore the disappointed looks on the doctors’ faces when they arrived. Although it had happened once or twice in his career, he hadn’t grown accustomed to civilians mistakenly thinking he was their savior. He almost always was not the savior, merely the transport to a new kind of awful. He sometimes wished he was paid to do more noble deeds, but that feeling usually passed once he got the paycheck. Still, in the moment itself, it was hard to ignore.

Most of them sat around a large table: the doctors, the assistant, the mercenaries, the pilot, and Gally. The only one missing was Martin, who was taking an urgently needed long hot shower, followed by an urgently needed shave, an urgently needed haircut, and an urgently needed nail trim. Doctor Lee sat with perplexed eyes, palms up on the table, as he took orders from someone he’d never seen before but assured him she was in charge. Nitro, who was leaning against a wall, smiled to see this experience from the outside for once.

Technically, Gally was the division that ran the division in which Doctor Lee worked, so she absolutely had the right to give the orders; they just sounded so strange. The plan was, essentially, to keep calm and carry on amid the dead people and dwindling supplies.

Lee was trying to cope with the new plan, and wasn’t succeeding. “Station One is dark too,” he muttered, grabbing his hair.

Doctor Howlette’s face was in his hands as his elbows leaned on the table. “And now, I can’t help thinking they were killed too.” His face only left his palms to give an anxious look around. “We don’t have the resources to continue the work without the other stations.”

“What’s needed?” Gally stayed calm while projecting a sense of urgency. It wasn’t something she was well practiced at, but it had fallen over her recently. She refused to let anything get in her way—and that included the needs of the eggheads.

“Food, for starters,” Mitch grumbled, having not spoken before. “Station Three just ran out, and we’re short as well.”

Boomer looked to his captain, who shrugged and nodded, knowing what he was thinking and allowing it. “Well, we’ve got food,” Boomer added. “And we can make supply runs.”

Harper laughed through his nose, realizing he had just been volunteered for another trip through that awful atmosphere. “We can’t risk re-entry, so off-world isn’t an option, but I’d be happy to make trips to collect supplies that are still on-planet.”

Lee nodded, conceding that the plan would suffice. He turned to Gally while the others silently contemplated. “I want to see it,” he finally said, and the others were mildly surprised. “I want to see Station Four and know what we’re dealing with before agreeing to stay here.” The other doctor and the assistant nodded in agreement.

Gally held back a scoff. They were in no position to make demands, and their agreement was not required for their compliance. It was their job. She—and Purple Company and all their food—could pick up and leave without them at a moment’s notice. But she didn’t mention that; she just nodded, wanting to explore the site herself anyway.

Harper leaned back, knowing he’d be busy for some time. Frankly, he was happy to be of use during their stay here. Spinning around in his chair and slapping its arms, he stood up. “I’ll prep the ship.”

“Ox, go with him.” Nitro pointed with