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

he’d made sure of that. Her eyes, appreciative and quiet, followed him as he walked further into the ship.

Harper, however, hadn’t noticed. He was still examining the speaker that had been blown to pieces, trying not to dwell on the irony of only just having the media player fixed. After scratching his scalp and staring for some time, he let out a disappointed groan. Gally couldn’t help but laugh. The pilot dropped his hands to his waist, having found absolutely none of the specific parts required to fix such a thing. So, he continued on and reached the cockpit.

He grabbed a dust-rag and wiped down the less-used controls before sitting down. His lip twisted in dissatisfaction at how little there was to do. Gally sat next to him, in the co-pilot’s chair, and looked out at the vast metal wall in front of them.

He looked to her, his mouth hanging open before he chose his words. Frankly, he couldn’t choose them at all. They all felt equally important, though they sat in his chest and refused to move. When she looked back at him, he closed his mouth, but returned her glance. It was nice to see her depart from her work personality. All the red tape and bluster vanished from her, and her demeanor seemed carefree. But when he’d finally looked her in the eyes, Harper could see the hurricane wanting to be set loose. He felt awful for it, which was one of the many things he’d meant to say.

In what felt like an abrupt change of thought, he watched her point to his left. “Whose ring is that?” Gally pointed to a long, black necklace that wrapped around a gold wedding band. Hung off one of the less-important switches, it would sway when the ship moved, a constant reminder to the pilot of the life he’d left behind.

Of all the things he wanted to talk with her about, this was probably the one furthest down his throat. He pulled the necklace off its switch and examined the ring. His face softened, but not quite happily.

He recalled coming home after one of his many long missions, recalled how steadily his wife admitted to cheating on him, and how she said she didn’t recognize him anymore. That, Harper surmised, was probably because she’d packed all their photos—along with his belongings—in four simple boxes by the door. He always held the theory that, if she tried harder, or looked at the pictures more, instead of other men, she would have remembered him. He remembered how far away she looked by the end of it all, and the ring was the only reminder of a happier time.

“You got a woman back home?” Gally prodded, interrupting his recollection of the years that ended with one horrible night. Her tone was relaxed and casual, as if they were in the actual military, lying in cots and recalling life before the war. He didn’t nod, he didn’t shake his head; he just stared at the ring.

“I used to,” he finally admitted in a dry voice, as if it came from someone else. “She met someone else.” He blinked. “Twice, actually.” He only kept a few things from those boxes: the necessities. She’d decided to keep the cat; lucky for him, as he probably would have wound up in one of those boxes too. [She was remarkably efficient when she wanted to be, and Harper was living proof.]

Gally winced. “Sorry to hear.”

He shrugged as casually as he could, [given the subject material]. He placed the necklace back around its former home and bit his lip. “Well, I learned a lot,” he said. “No matter how much you kick and scream, life just keeps—” something caught his attention, catching him mid-sentence. Three blips appeared on his radar. “Huh,” he mused.

Gally glanced over at him, noticing his energy change. “What?”

“Three ships flying overhead.” He pointed to his radar blips. Had they been in the air, the Atticus would have provided a louder warning. The girl squinted. “Isn’t this planet abandoned?”

She didn’t answer, just leaned forward. “That’s all we can see of them?”

Harper nodded, not wanting to be reminded how low-tech his ship actually was.

“That’s a military formation,” the pilot added, having seen dozens of such things in his day. “In this atmosphere.” While Gally didn’t catch exactly what he meant, he was trying to say that such a formation would be very difficult to manage in such an awful environment. The three pilots were either very good pilots or very diligent drones.

Instead of matching his curiosity or asking follow-up questions, as Harper expected, Gally stood up. “We’ll keep an eye out in the morning.” As she left the cockpit, she touched his shoulder. Her hand slowly swept off of him as she walked away. Harper slouched back in his seat, not wanting to admit to himself that she relaxed him as much as she actually did.

In the morning, while Josie was strapping up, her memories ripped at her. She couldn’t stop thinking of the creature she’d met in the gray: the way it moved, its speed, its ferocity. If it had managed to reach her, with its massive teeth and well-practiced claws, she would have been killed. Memories of it moving toward her flashed in her mind. And there were more of them, she thought, an uncounted lot somewhere out there. She zipped up her environmental suit, though it wasn’t activated, and tightened the plates to her armor.

Ox was suiting up as well, though he didn’t put on his armor. He leaned toward her and pointed with a slow, gigantic finger. “We won’t need all that,” he reminded her.

Boomer interjected, after closing his demolitions pouch and sealing it. “You thinking of giving these things another hug, Jo?”

Josie managed a smirk, though it wasn’t entirely sincere. “Just being prepared. Wouldn’t want to lose an eye.” Boomer jeered, pretending to take offense. Josie picked up her rifle, checking the charge of the battery. “Gonna