Wolves
Wardship

The dropship touched down onto the surface of Mars,sending clouds of red dust whirring away in all directions. The squadfitted on their helmets and strapped their guns to the clips on theirbacks. “I heard Mars was one of those red rock planets.Terraformed, but still dry,” Sanchez remarked, glancing through thewindow to the harsh terrain waiting outside.

“Never heard you get so poetic,” Traw smirked.“Clayton's usually the one with such a vocabulary...I hope he'sdoin' okay. Kinda miss his big brain.”

“That makes four of us,” Aveer commented. “Let'srun this mission and get back as soon as we can. I hate rock worlds,but I more hate knowing a comrade is in trouble...and being milesaway.”

The back hatch of the dropship opened, and the squadmade their way out. The bright sun gleaming in their faces, thoughfiltered through the visors on their helmets. Some hundred yardsaway, there was a train track, with twelve cars resting on it, theengine pointed south.

Ignoring the ladder on the side, a man inuniform—evidently the captain of security—hopped down to the dirtfrom the edge of the train car and approached the Death Squad. “Itake it you're the squad sent to protect Madame Donovan?” Thecaptain asked, squinting. Traw couldn't tell if he was squinting fromthe sun or his own suspicion.

“That's us,” Moore answered plainly. “Why're wehere, anyway? Our job is to run high-risk missions for the GAM. Thisdoesn't seem like one of 'em.”

“Mars is full of surprises,” the captain retorted,motioning for them to follow him back to the train. “We've beendealing with a number of insurgents lately, and to date there've beenthree attempts on Madame Donovan's life. I've lost eight men in myservice to the Dignitary Guild, and all of them have been duringthose attempts.”

“And what's special about her? Why not any of theother dignitaries?” Traw wondered.

“She's been publicly proposing some very...new, ideasduring the summits in the past few months.”

“Such as?” Traw continued.

“Giving money back to the people, higher taxes on bigcorporations, more power to the governmental intervention...stufflike that. Whatever philosophy these insurgents have, it's clear whatshe's saying doesn't go along with it. Anyways, I have fifteen guardsready to protect her: two are stationed in the engine car, six in herpersonal car, and the other seven patrol the other ten cars. I heardthere were going to be five of you, but apparently I was misinformed.So I'll have you all in her personal car, in light of that newinformation. Sound good?”

“Whatever you say,” Sanchez shrugged. “I gotsixteen months left on this job. Don't care how I spend 'em.”

“Typical Marine,” the captain muttered as he openedthe door to Donovan's personal car. The men stepped inside thespacious car, and even through their breathing filters, the smell ofheavy perfume entered their nostrils. Out of politeness, Trawstruggled to hold in his coughs. Moore didn't bother, hacking in hishelmet once he entered. The six guards stood at the windows of thecar, and in the center, lounging in a plush leather chair, was MadameDonovan herself. One foot on an ottoman and the other resting on thesoft, ornate rug, she slept in the massive recliner, letting herhands hang on the sides of the chair. The captain cleared his throatrather loudly, and she awoke, making a foul snort that interruptedher last snore.

“Ah, we have visitors,” she exclaimed, trying toregain her pompous composure. Due to her immense size, it becamedifficult for her to rise from the chair and greet the squad, so shesoon abandoned the endeavor. “Make yourselves comfortable,gentlemen.”

They awkwardly filed into the room, sitting down in thechairs and couches lining the walls of the cabin. The captain excusedhimself, “I'll be in the engine car, and we'll begin the trip assoon as the thrusters are prepared.”

“Er, how long is this trip expected to take?” Trawmade a point of inquiring. He noticed the dropship leaving. Suddenlythe prospect of standard military life had a certain attractivenessto him.

“Ten hours, assuming all goes according to plan,”the captain answered, then departed with the seal of the door.

Moore turned to Traw and tapped the speaker on his ownhelmet, subtly motioning for Traw to do the same. He nodded in reply.They both turned off the external speakers of their microphones,allowing only a link between them and the other squad members. Trawwhispered over the squad link, “If those insurgents don't startshootin' up the place real quick, I might have to.”

Moore held in his smirking laughter. Sanchez and Aveercaught on and turned their external speakers off. They felt the trainshake with the igniting of the thrusters, and it was soon on its way.“Ten hours...” Aveer grumbled.

“Oh, do take off those dreadful helmets, gentlemen,”Madame Donovan pleaded. “I can't stand it when the Marines send arabble of helmeted robots to do their work. It chills me.”

Traw turned his speaker back on. “No thank you,ma'am. We have orders to keep them on at all times, for our ownprotection. And it helps communication.”

Donovan rolled her eyes. “If you must,” sheconceded. She looked herself over and realized she was not dressedproperly for a meeting. “Oh, good heavens,” she exclaimed. Then,evidently bothered, she remembered, “The security captain insistedthat I leave my servants back at the last station, in case one ofthem was a spy.” She laughed sharply, piercing any serenity in theroom. “I would know if they were spies. I've known them since theywere born in the rooms of my house. If only their mothers survivedthe birth, though. They made such splendid fashion advisers.”

Sanchez set his jaw, realizing just how long the tripwas going to be. “Would one of you be so kind as to help me getdressed?” she wondered, struggling to rise from her chair. “Iasked these gentlemen here, but none of them responded. I swear, ifthe captain doesn't train them to be polite, I might have to firehim. Ha, who am I kidding? He adores me. I'm certain he would complywith what I asked of him.”

The men hesitated. Each of them were trying toformulate some sort of excuse of their own. Finally, Aveer corrected,“Our task is to be on guard. Helping you...in that way would behindering our duty.”

“Fair enough,” she grumbled, rising from her chair. She walked behind a thick veil at the other end of the room andclosed it behind her, where a small portion of her wardrobe was held.

Thirty silent minutes later, she pulled open thecurtain and emerged in her normal attire. Her face was so caked withmakeup that it was nearly impossible to discern her from the womanthey had just seen. She wore a crimson dress with a gold patternrunning along it from the bottom. Two massive gold earrings dangledfrom the sides of her face, in front of a lush, wavy hairstyle thatwas difficult to ignore. “Kripes,” Sanchez muttered, blinking andlooking away. Despite all her efforts to look beautiful, her verydemeanor was enough to repulse the men present.

“You'll have to pardon me for not looking my finest,”she excused with a wave of her hand. Then she made her way to theliquor table and helped herself to the contents thereof. “So...”Traw struggled to make conversation, “what's in the other ten cars?I mean, it's just you and the guards. Why do you need all that?”

She turned about and laughed that same shrill laugh,causing him to cinch his eyes shut. “My possessions, darling,”she answered, with a pompous air about her that suited her. “Gold,silver, silk, leather, hickory, oh...and the things you should see.It would put the State's treasury to shame. I have a few large emptycages in the back room, though. What a bother.”

“Cages for what?” Moore inquired. He was genuinelyinterested, but suspected he already knew the answer.

“Well, my servants need to go somewhere, dear. Andhaving thirty of them in my kind of living quarters would beimpractical.” She took another generous sip from her pinot noir,then set the empty glass onto the table, exhaling with satisfaction.

A long two hours passed. Madame Donovan had fallenasleep in her chair once again, but not before she made certain themembers of Death Squad were fully aware of her lengthy list ofachievements and honors. She had made a point of revealing her caseof medals, and displayed her many ceremonial sashes with pride. Inreply the men said nothing but the occasional remark that could besaid of anything which was displayed.

“We're approaching the tunnel now,” the captainnotified over the speakers. “It'll be about twenty minutes untilwe're in the light again.”

“I don't like tunnels,” Sanchez grumbled as thetrain slipped into sheer darkness.

The interior lights flickered on after a couple briefseconds of shadow. “There we are,” Madame Donovan remarked,looking at the lights overhead.

Suddenly, there was a jolting rumble. The securityguards took a defensive formation round Donovan, and she looked allabout like a cat that has heard a sudden noise. The Death Squad rosefrom their seats. “That came from the rear,” Aveer noted. Hepicked up his machine gun from its place resting beside the chair.“I'll go check.”

“I'm coming with,” Traw told him, strapping therifle to his back and unholstering his pistol. “Everyone else stayhere. You got the short range guns, so if somethin' happens...you'llbe better ready to take those insurgents on.”

“I'm gonna shoot to kill,” Moore grinned, holdinghis shotgun at the ready. “Donovan, you just stay down and...trynot to get shot.”

“You'll refer to me as 'Madame',” she corrected,crouching to the floor.

“How bout we refer to you as 'shut the hell up'?”Sanchez barked, maintaining his defensive, terse composure.

Traw and Aveer slipped through the train cabin directlybehind Donovan's. It was dark: evidently the power line had beensevered somewhere along the way. They heard the automatic door swooshclosed behind them. “Turning on headlamp,” Traw mentioned,clicking on the flashlight strapped to his helmet. “I suggest youdo the same.”

Both of them turned their lights on. A thin smokestirred about in the remainder of the room that wasn't conquered bythe products of opulence. After hearing a crunch, Traw looked downand realized he had stepped on a ceramic doll that had fallen fromits place among many others of its kind. “She ain't gonna be happyabout that,” he muttered, continuing on. Then there was a shufflingnoise. One of the other crates fell over, toward the other end of thecabin.

Aveer stopped. “Run a heat scan,” he told Traw in alow voice. He wasn't sure how loud it was over the speakers on hishelmet. “I'll keep watch and shoot at anything that moves. Let meknow what the scan brings up.”

Traw struggled for a moment to replace the heat scancommand on his helmet, then found and engaged it. On the displayinside his helmet, he saw eight red figures blinked, hazed somewherebetween the physical mass before him and the visor across his face.“Eight of 'em. Six in the car in front of us. Two in this one.”

“How far?” Aveer asked, concentrating on the spacebefore him. He would run a heat scan himself, but he had to lock hisattention on what lay ahead.

“Three meters, one on each side of the cabin,” Trawanswered, stepping up alongside Aveer. “I'll take the one on theright. Neither of them are moving.”

“Where are the other guards?” Aveer wondered,slipping his finger onto the trigger.

“Don't matter. Just shoot,” Traw dismissed,squinting on the space the heat signature appeared.“Three...two...one.” Without hesitation, Traw fired shot aftershot at the place where the heat signature appeared, and Aveersprayed the area with gunfire. Not a single cubic foot in front ofhim was devoid of a bullet.

“Are they dead?” Aveer asked.

Traw looked over. “Yeah, but there're more coming.Wish I could see 'em.”

“Maybe it's better that they don't have faces we cansee.” Aveer positioned himself in front of the door and fixed hisilluminated gaze on the doorframe. Traw loaded a fresh magazine intohis pistol and cocked it.

They heard shuffling from the car. Twelve feet advancedtoward the door, swift and agile. Traw set his jaw and lookedintently at the other side, aiming his pistol directly at the pointwhere an enemy's head would appear. There was a noise coming from theother side of the door which sounded like welding sparks. “Don'tthink about their faces,” Traw reminded Aveer, his eyes fixed onthe door. “It makes it easier, whoever they are.”

“Is that how you sleep at night?” Aveer asked, alsokeeping his gaze fixed on the door.

Traw replied with silence.

With a burst of smoke, the door broke down, and Aveerimmediately opened fire into the blast-marked gap. There were severalunholy screams as the hazy silhouettes of the enemies collapsed inthe doorframe. Traw fired off six shots into the darkness, thenstopped. Neither he nor Aveer were suffering return fire. He loweredhis pistol. Aveer continued to fill the doorway with piercing lead,stepping forward and sneering as he loaded an army of punishing shotsinto the flesh of his enemies, whoever they were. He did not know.Nor did he care.

Five more mutilated corpses lay in the space justbehind the doorway. “There's another,” Traw told Aveer, who wasalready charging into the smoking gap. Bolting with unrivaledcelerity, a dark figure emerged from a pile of suitcases, heading forthe back door. “Not happening,” Aveer growled, clenching thetrigger and unleashing a devastating stream of bullets.

Punched down by the barrage of lead, the last enemyfell onto the carpeted floor. Traw stepped through the blasted-outdoorframe, his eyes sweeping over the bodies that lay strewn on thefloor. He picked up a tool one of them was carrying. The tip, acone-like apparatus, was searing hot. Traw assumed that was mostlikely what had allowed them to break through the door in the firstplace. Aveer strapped the gun to his back and crouched over thecorpse of the one who had attempted to flee.

With tough, armored hands, Aveer turned the body over.It was a man, with long, ragged hair and a beard that had theconsistency of a bush. His skin was wrinkled and coarse, likesandpaper. The clothes he wore had obviously seen better days. Twofeet away, evidently knocked out of his hand, the man's rifle lay.Aveer picked it up, examining it. “This is old,” he noted. “Veryold. I doubt it still works.”

Traw turned over one of the bodies. He appeared similarto the one Aveer had turned over, yet slightly different. This onehad a shoulder pauldron, with an odd marking painted in black ontothe metal. “I think I've seen some of the officers lookin' at thissymbol on their datapads. These'd be the insurgents then.”

“The Umbragites is their name, I believe.”

“Yeah, that's what they're called.” Traw set thecorpse back down in its place against a broken crate. “Alright,let's get back to the main car. We'll tell 'em what happened.”

Just as they were returning, there was a massive blast,with magnitude that dwarfed the one that first shocked them. Thetrain ground to a screeching halt, shaking and rumbling off thetracks. “We got a problem,” Moore grumbled over the communicationlink.