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

was expecting an argument, but he didn’t get one. So he looked uncertain as she continued. “I didn’t just hire a random contractor. I did my research. You’re the only one on your whole team with a searchable history, which tells me you’re not a criminal or a disgraced officer. You were on Sondur during their revolution; you had your own battalion for two years of hell.”

He seemed to have simmered; the anger in him was quieter, different than what she’d seen. His posture wasn’t that of an insulted man, but of a teenager who didn’t know what to do with his anger. “I don’t want to go back there.”

Gally’s eyes softened. The smallest sympathetic smile appeared on her face. “I was raised around soldiers, Jim,” she told him. “I think you do.”

After staring at her for a long time, Nitro shrugged. He took a moment and let out a few sighs. “So, fine. Let’s say we do get the ship and get off the ground. Follow those burn marks.” Gally turned and followed his instructions, seeing the large, black cannon that the black trails led up to. “They’re just gonna shoot us down again.”

She was happy to see him being productive, and spoke as if giving him something he always wanted. “You wanna trash it?”

“I do, I really do,” he grinned, zoomed out, and took a step back. “I’ll ask Boomer if he brought enough to take it down. He goes off, takes out the big gun, we swing by with our new ship and pick him up.” His grin fell off his face as he examined the rest of the complex. “It’s still a shit plan.”

She leaned on a nearby wall and slid to the floor, staring at him as if they’d just been introduced. “You know, you’re awfully negative for a man who’s done this before.”

“I’m negative because I’ve done this before.” He grinned at her and gently punched her shoulder as he walked by her. At least, he punched where her shoulder should have been, in the bulky suit. “It’s like I can see into the—” Nitro’s foot stopped short, his head drooping forward slightly as he paused.

Gally turned back to look at him, unaware of his odd pose until she saw him. “What’s wrong?”

He shushed her, waving a hand behind him, as if she was a loud and unintuitive child. Taking his hint, she remained silent, though she did stand. After not being able to trace his eyeline, she listened.

A very faint buzzing could be heard. Nitro enabled his binoculars again and saw them instantly: four of the Eighth rode buzzing snow-gliders. “Tracks,” he grumbled.

“What?” Gally asked, puzzled.

“We left fucking tracks!” Nitro turned and threw open the door to the steps, barreling down them two at a time. Gally ran behind him, although not as fast or coordinated.

They never told Ula who the large one-piece suit belonged to, but they told her it would keep her warm. And it did, but it was about twice her size. She’d worn it proudly, like a costume, despite the sleeves constantly having to be pulled up. As she sat at the table, they’d fallen once again, nearly dipping into her second MRE. It was the best food she’d had in some time, and she heard the others joke that it was as if Ox had never left. She didn’t know who that was, and Josie wouldn’t tell her.

It was strange, because Josie answered nearly every other question she asked. The mercenary even did things for her that her family used to do, like folding her sleeves up at the slight hint that she was getting frustrated. Ula watched the mercenary’s Human-colored hands work gently and diligently to make sure the sleeves were snug against her arm. When she was finished, she gently slapped the side of the helmet.

Ula grinned as she leaned in the direction of the slap. She continued to eat, hearing Josie sit down on the floor behind her. She’d been cleaning her guns, and Ula had learned that doing that made them work better. She’d learned a lot of things recently, because she’d asked a lot of questions. In fact, one of the few times she wasn’t asking questions was while she was eating.

The last time she’d had a warm meal was when her parents were alive, so she felt the need to talk about them. Her voice didn’t carry the same inquisitive tone; this time it was nostalgic and wondrous. “And he would bring back food and toys and books,” she continued before shoving food into her mouth. Josie hummed an acknowledgement as the Herulean girl heard footsteps.

She glanced to her side to see Boomer approaching the table with a helmet in his hand. He placed it on the table and went to grab the one off Ula’s head. She ducked him, and finally turned her whole body to give him a look. She thought he was being very rude.

The demolitions expert paused, looking at her expectantly. A moment passed before Boomer lifted the helmet he brought over and spoke into the coms so she could understand him. “This one’s yours.” He shook it, as if to tempt her with something new.

Ula grew up with an older brother, and knew shenanigans when she saw them. With a slight frown, she shook her head, tapping the helmet she was already wearing. “This one’s mine.” She looked at him matter-of-factly.

“No, that one’s mine. I wore it first,” Boomer insisted, frustrated that he needed to have this conversation. As much of an intrusion as this was on her meal, she was happy to be reminded of her brother. She remembered how angry he’d get if she was just quiet and stubborn. Ula shook her head, returning to her meal. It worked; Boomer pressed her again. “Look, they’re literally the same helmet.”

“Nope, they’re not,” she responded, chewing contently.

Ula heard Josie laugh before joining the argument. “Boomer, just keep that one.”

“It doesn’t fit right!” he