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

hand and pulled on it. It didn’t budge. So he pulled again, still nothing. Harper strapped his new-found rifle to his back and pulled the handle with both hands, and managed to move it a little. Finally, he crouched, grappled the bag with both arms wrapped around the middle, and began to waddle to the hall. He’d bumped into the top of the doorway, and ducked. He’d bumped it again, so he ducked lower, slowly leading his bottom half out first, so the top half had more room when that exited.

Gally blinked, realizing she might be the only one able to fight. “You done?”

“Yeah,” he struggled. Even through his grunting, he talked to her as if she was the one holding them up. “Waiting on you.”

Sabile:Base of Operations of the Eighth, Fort 0102: East Wing

Nitro and Boomer were on an elevator, gratefully alone, when they got the call. “She has passed, captain.” Nitro was in shock, but Boomer took it the hardest. His back hit one of the walls, and his nearly fingerless hand covered his mouth. He’d begun to realize that she was his best friend. While he tried to collect himself, Ox continued over the coms. “We are now in a hostile environment.”

Nitro nodded, remaining focused on the mission. “Copy that. Are you able to move?”

A grunt was heard on the other end. “Yes, but slowly. I have become a burden, sir.”

“Nonsense, buddy, you did great.” Nitro charged his weapons, which made Boomer come to his senses and do the same. “Do what you can to find a ship. I’ll ping you my location when we’re done on our end.”

“Nitro,” Gally’s voice came through, though it sounded reluctant. “What about Martin?” The captain gave a concerned look to Boomer. It was a brief glance, but they had a whole conversation in that short time. Boomer’s usually mad expression seemed calm, certain. He nodded, with a ready expression upon his face.

“I’m on it,” Nitro responded, slapping the arm of the demolitions expert. “Ox, I need his location. Can you do your thing?” The captain finagled his hand underneath his chest plate and pressed a button on his environmental suit, which hissed as it regulated the internal temperature.

“As soon as I am able, captain. In the meantime, go west.” Ox’s deep voice fought through static on the other side of the coms. “That is where I lost Josie.”

“Can do. Find a ship. But don’t take off until we knock out that tower, understood?” He slid his visor down, and his eyes adjusted to everything being orange.

“Understood,” Gally confirmed.

Nitro nodded and turned to face the elevator door before he realized that Boomer had been staring at him. After not being able to read him, Nitro finally inquired. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just that, well–,” Boomer nervously broached an issue, gesturing to the bag of explosives Nitro was carrying.

“I know what I’m doing with these.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t have to.” Nitro was curt, insulted.

“No, I just mean that the art may go unappreciated,” Boomer shrugged.

Nitro blinked, staring at the private. “Unappreciated. You’re serious.”

“You’re kind of ham-fisted with them,” Boomer tried to put it gently.

“Ham-fisted?!”

“You gotta ease it!” Boomer nervously made a pushing motion with one hand, as if massaging the air. “Ease it.” Nitro rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the door. Boomer adjusted his stance, standing up on his own and matching the captain’s stance, although he didn’t look away: a serious concern still upon his face. “Ease it.”

“I get it!” Nitro ended the issue, having never been so thankful to hear an elevator ding in his life. Even before the doors opened, the two mercenaries opened fire, blasting purple plasma through the metal. Some lasers came back through in response, but not many. The remains of the door opened shakily to reveal two of the Eighth lying in front of them, purple smoke rising from their sizzling bodies. When Nitro stepped out of the elevator, he took both laser rifles off them, strapping them to his back.

The elevator had taken them halfway up the base of the tower, to an outdoor area that was just over the roof of the base. They were reminded of the awful wind as the gray snow whipped against their faces once again. Nitro looked around with a disgusted face. “Man, I hate this planet,” he complained, and Boomer nodded in agreement.

“Good luck.” Nitro didn’t make eye contact with Boomer before he leapt over a nearby railing and bolted once he hit the roof.

“You too,” Boomer’s scraggly hair bounced as he ran; he was excited to get indoors, as he had not activated his suit. His usual mad grin was accompanied with purpose, and just the slightest hint of vengeance—a new look for him.

He kicked open the door to the turret, and gave a mad holler at the automatons inside it before he blazed the room with purple. The first time he was fired at, he leapt to his right, his stomach landing, painfully, on one of the computer terminals. He managed to swing his rifle out, firing with his left hand. Despite the rifle bucking like a wild horse, the plasma hit its target. The second time he was shot at, he dropped to the floor and rolled into cover behind a larger terminal. He’d hoped he wouldn’t need this particular terminal, as it became a pincushion to hard-laser bolts passing through it. When the time was right, Boomer leapt up and hit the assailant with everything he could. It was enough, and the Eighth fell backward with a clang.

When the place was finally silent, he glanced around; there were computers encircling the large staircase that led to the top of the tower. There was no way of telling which computer did what, and if it didn’t explode, shoot, or flush, he didn’t know how to work it. He groaned in frustration as he rummaged through his backpack. He would blow the thing to hell,