Wolves
Turbulence

Traw's metal boot touched down on the surface of hishome planet. He took off his helmet for a moment and breathed in thefamiliar air. He relished the sensation of sunlight upon his skin.Something about Sino had a homelike quality to it, despite its aridclimate. It was like a workplace one once hated, but learned to lovewith the passage of time and repetition of visits.

“Apparently there's a riot in progress as we speak,”Clayton notified, stepping down alongside Traw, his armored bootssettling into the hot sand.

Traw drew himself back to the current situation,sifting his helmet onto his skull. “Let's get rollin', then,” heagreed.

“Wait,” Aveer muttered, seeming a bit perturbed.The other four turned about. “We are going into the city to killhumans. Not Nektro.”

“So what, man?” Moore laughed, waving his shotgunwith levity in his movements. “We've done it before. That was oursecond mission, remember? Those thugs in that hotel? We killed everylast one of 'em, and I didn't see you complainin'.”

“They were going to kill other humans. These peoplewant freedom,” Aveer argued.

“To hell with that! I don't know why you're allsaintly all of a sudden. Half the people in that hotel suite were sexslaves, remember? They ain't done nothin' wrong, but we lit 'em upand mowed 'em down just like the rest. You signed onto this job.Learn to suck it up, big man,” Sanchez quipped.

Aveer turned to Traw, hoping to gain some aid in theargument. Clayton certainly wasn't going to say anything. Traw lookedto the sand at his feet for a moment. “They got a point. Apaycheck's a paycheck. I don't rightly care how I get it,” heconcluded, walking off with Sanchez and Moore.

As Clayton was beginning to walk off with the otherthree men and the dropship ascended into the vivid sunset, Aveercalled out, “I didn't hear from you.”

Clayton paused, half turning around to face Aveer.“These rioters aren't so different from the criminals, as you seemto believe. Sure, they might be less malicious, but they're stillviolent. They could still deal harm. Either way, I'm the technician.Killing isn't in my job description. You're the heavy gunner. It's inyours.”

The city was large in the distance, about two milesfrom the drop point. At the center of it there was a cluster ofskyscrapers, looming over the rest of the dense residence likefaceless sentinels. As the squad drew closer, they realized theoutskirts had been mainly deserted. A few people lingered about, butthey appeared to be fearful of something. None of the men bade thecivilians any notice, except Traw.

A violent clamor of sirens, shouting, fire andshattering glass could be heard as they drew nearer to the center ofthe city. They walked freely in the open streets, but became a bitmore apprehensive to do so as they encroached on the edge of theriot. “Hey, I say we go up on the rooftop, I can scope it out,”Traw suggested, pointing to a fire ladder attached to one of thenearby buildings.

“Yeah, go ahead. The rest of us are gonna stay herefor a sec,” Moore confirmed, gripping his shotgun. He glancedsuspiciously at one of the citizens meandering on their way.

Traw ascended the rusty ladder, afraid it might snapoff, due to the weight of his armor. Once on the rooftop, he crouchedlow and made his way across. He wasn't yet ready to draw anyattention. His hand on the pistol holster, Traw poked his head overthe ledge and looked out into the open city square. Two blocks awaythe riot was in full criscendo, plumes of black smoke rising fromburning cars and ruined buildings. The pandemonium seemed to spillout into some of the adjacent streets, but Traw knew he was at a safedistance. There was an unintelligible chant that vaguely lined thechaotic shouts and noise. He unstrapped the rifle from his back anddetached the scope.

Adjusting the dial on the side, he zoomed in to see thecapitol tower, which was taking the brunt of the anarchic attacks.There was a cobbled-together barrier on the broad front steps, whichwas held fast by a company of Marines and a few remaining riotpolice. It became quickly evident to Traw that the line of defensewould be soon a trampled pile of rubble and corpses. A loose volleyof tear gas was being tossed as well, adding to the madness of thesituation.

As Traw was scuttling back across the rooftop, henoticed two people standing atop one of the other roofs. He crouchedlower and adjusted his scope. One was in a suit, holding amicrophone, and the other had some sort of small video camera mountedto his shoulder, operating the device. The suit-clad one appeared tobe saying something in an urgent tone, pointing to the riot. “Goddamnmedia,” he grumbled, then shuffled back down the ladder.

“What's the news from our eyes in the sky?” Sanchezasked, leaning up against a brick wall facing the desolate street.

“Big riot, at least two or three thousand. We'retalkin' tear gas, broken windows, car fires. It ain't pretty. There'ssome Marines holding a defense up at the capitol tower, along with afew other riot police. But it doesn't look like they're gonna holdmuch longer.”

“I say we go up along those rooftops,” Aveersuggested, pointing to the roofs of the buildings lining the citysquare. “We can group up with those last men at the tower and makea plan of what to do.”

“Or we just hit those animals in the back with somehot lead. Give 'em an idea of what true power is,” Moore smirked,holding his shotgun like he was going to shoot someone begging formercy at his knees.

“That sounds good, I gotta say we should go withAveer's plan. It's gonna work better for us. We don't know what kindaweapons those rioters got,” Sanchez argued.

“Alright, alright, we'll go on rooftop,” Mooreconceded. As they were ascending the ladder one by one, Traw, whostayed behind to go up last, noticed something trampled and tornlying on the filthy ground. He stooped over to pick it up, brushingthe dust and grease off its surface. It was a poster, featuring fivesilhouetted men with a faded star burst background. Below, in boldprint, it said,

The Death Squad: Protecting Our Homes And Families

Vanquishers of Foreign and Domestic Enemies

Heroes of the State

“My god,” Traw gasped. His eyes focused on the darkfigure on the illustration holding a long sniper rifle.

“What?” Clayton asked, halfway up the ladder.

“Look at this,” Traw answered, handing the posterto Clayton. Clayton looked it over, then looked at the figure thatwas supposed to resemble him: shorter than the others, bearing astocky gun.

“I look a bit tall,” he joked, then handed it toSanchez, who was peering over from the roof.

“Heh...heroes,” Sanchez smirked after reading thepatriotic phrase. “Yeah, that's definitely what we are. They shouldmake statues of us back on Neptune.”

As they made their way across the rooftops, Traw keptan eye on the condition of the riot. It grew more intense with thequick passage of time. He noticed the soldiers running out of bothoptions and tenacity. At any second, the defense could crack and theseething mass of chaos would overrun the barriers.

Finally, the Death Squad was just twenty yards awayfrom the base steps of the tower where the soldiers were making theirlast stand. The squad members crouched down in an alley, letting theshadows conceal them from the gaze of any unfriendly eyes. “Alright,we gotta spill some blood at some point,” Moore muttered, eager tospring out and start firing off buckshots. “And this crowd isn'tgetting any calmer. Once we give 'em a taste from our barrels, theymight get wise and back off for a bit. Aveer, we're gonna need you todo the brunt of the shootin'. You up for it?”

Aveer swallowed hard. His breath rate increased. “Yes.I'll do it,” he replied, the reluctancy less than subtle in hisvoice.

“There's our killin' machine,” Moore grinned,clapping him on the shoulder. “Back in business.”

Moore stepped out from the alley and fired off a blindshot into the crowd. Sanchez walked up alongside him and let out abrief spray of bullets. Four people fell dead to the pavement. Trawpulled out his pistol and walked up toward the tower, Clayton andAveer by his side. Traw fired three shots into the mob swarming atthe barrier. A few of them appeared to be carrying weapons, and firedat him in return. Needless to say, they were ineffective in piercinghis armor, and he shot each assailant down in rapid succession.

The rioters seemed intimidated, backing away like aherd of animals. “You all just get gone!” Traw hollered, turningthe volume of his helmet speakers to full. He fired off a few moreshots for extra effect. Two more people fell dead to the ground, andanother clutching his bleeding shoulder. Four burly men emerged fromthe crowd and tried to tackle Moore and Sanchez. Sanchez shoved oneback with a couple pulses of bullets, then was knocked back by twoothers. With armored fists he beat them both to the hard ground andmade sure they wouldn't get up again. Moore left the last man with aknife wound to the neck and a shattered spine.

Traw approached the leader of the Marines stationed atthe frontline. The barrier was about eight feet tall and a few feetthick, with men hunkered down atop it. “You boys look like youcould use a hand,” Traw remarked, gesturing to the mob, who wasslowly backing away and dispersing.

“Ididn't know you'd be using lethal force,” the leader replied,shuffling down the side of the barrier. “Corporal Ramos, 151stDivision.”

“Sebastian Traw, DS05.” The two men shook hands.“This is Clayton, and the big one's Aveer. Those two fellas overthere are Moore and Sanchez. We make up Death Squad.”

Corporal Ramos nodded for a moment, resting his handson the side of his belt. He scanned the area. “I'd be leery of whatkinda force you use. Not that I have an issue with it...they probablywill, though.” Ramos pointed to the cameraman and reporter acrossthe city square.

“I'll keep it in mind,” Traw noted. “Let's getinside and talk. I usually like Sinoan sunlight, but not right now.”

The Death Squad and twelve Marines stood in a circlebelow ground level. Even in the bunker twenty feet underground it washot. A few fluorescent lights flickered overhead, hanging from wiresalong the concrete ceiling, giving the room a pale glow and leavingthe corners in eery shadow.

“So why are they rioting, exactly?” Claytonwondered, brushing off the visor on his helmet. “I don't recallanything like this back on my planet. I'd assume it's a newdevelopment here as well.”

“Stupid ideological bullshit,” Ramos grumbled.“Some politician got 'em all riled up with a campaign about howthey need more wages and better homes and less governmentalinterference. This, that and the other thing. They want it all. Andapparently the best way to go about that is to riot in the citysquare and kill thirty of the local police. Whatever they want,they're dangerous, and we need to shut 'em down ASAP. If you got anyideas on how to stop 'em, now'd be the time to bring 'em up.”

“Last I checked, we're just the wreckin' crew. Youtell us how to do it,” Moore commented, casually aiming the tip ofhis knife toward Corporal Ramos.

“You mercenaries, or special operatives,or...whatever you are, are more experienced than I am. This is thefirst time I've seen real combat. And I'm supposed to be runnin' thisshow. Everyone else 'round here are just privates,” Ramosexplained. “That's why I'm asking you for your two cents.”

There was a lull for a few seconds. “Cut theirpower,” Aveer suggested. “These people need it to live. They relyon it. Back on my planet, whenever there was a neighboring town thatwould attack us, we would come in the night and ruin their powergenerators. It did not take long for them to stop.”

“You got a technician then who can figure it out?Ours...didn't make it,” Ramos replied.

“The little guy there. Knows his way around amotherboard,” Moore answered, pointing to Clayton.

“Good. Nightfall's comin' in a couple of hours. We'lldo it tonight. Marines, get to work on repairing and rebuilding thebarrier. I want guards in each direction posted every second. Eyeseveryhwere. No one moves around here without us knowing it. Youunderstand? Death Squad, you boys stick with me. I'll show you allthe full situation upstairs.”

After shuffling up five flights of chipped stairs underdying light, the six men entered a trashed, desolate office. Pickingup his datapad from the large table in the center of the room, Ramosapologized, “Sorry about the mess, gentlemen. Last week while wewere out on patrol, some punks came in and trashed the place.”

“There've been riots every day?” Traw inferred,examining a mechanical device he picked up from the desk beside thedoor. A warm breeze flowed in from the open balcony that overlookedthe city square.

“They don't seem to stop. I dunno what these folksare hopin' to gain from takin' over the local authority, but it ain'tgonna work. Even if they take over the whole city and there ain't asingle Marine for a thousand miles, that won't prove anything.They'll just sit here in the desert with no aid until we finally getthe green light to come back with more men and more guns and kicktheir asses back into submission. If you ask me, this city isn'tworth you guys comin'.”

“That's'cause it ain't about the city,” Traw corrected. “It's about whatthe rest of the nation sees. And that's us: Death Squad. We're icons.Heroes. Our job's to look pretty and do the not-so-pretty jobs. Soyou're right. This city ain't worth jack. Weare.”

“You hit the nail on the head, son,” Sanchezgrinned, setting his helmet down on one of the desks. “We're good,but we ain't that good. I mean, these people think we're somekinda...war gods, or somethin'. I'm just a punk from Las Doreson.”

“Alright, I don't care about the propaganda those topbrass are crankin' out,” Ramos dismissed, changing the topic. “Ijust care about lasting the night. I gotta fill you guys in on thesupply situation. We're runnin' low. Unless we get restocked soon,we're dead in the water. We'll have to venture out into the city ifwe want any more. And that sure isn't gonna happen. Those folks'dhave us dead before we even left the city square.”

“Can't you just call in for support?” Claytonasked.

“Communications relay got knocked out a few daysback. We're off the grid. Only reason you all were able to come wasbecause we were able to call for aid just before we went dark.”

“Yeah, figures. That'd make it too easy,” Mooregrumbled. “I just want to finish this last mission and get mypaycheck. Alright, we'll get goin' at nightfall, kick out the powerstation, and haul outta this rock planet.”

“It probably won't be that easy, I'll tell you allright now. Your mission's to settle the conflict down here, right?”

“Correct,” Aveer chimed in. Keeping his helmet on,he seemed somehow more formidable than the rest. His size certainlyadded to that effect as well.

“Yeah, so the point is to shut 'em down any way wecan and make sure they stay that way. Cutting the power is the firststep. Then I've got a list of targets I'm gonna have you take out.Then we demonstrate a few public executions, and in between all ofthis we shut down a few riots, should they spring up. We gotta makesure those bastards never even think of rioting again.”

“You seem awfully...capable, for a corporal,” Trawremarked.

Ramos rose from his seat. He seemed tired, buttenacious. He had the bearing of a man who had no intention ofsurrendering. “When you see every one of your superiors on site getbeheaded by a mob of raging bastards, you learn to be capable. Thereare twenty-seven Marines left here, and five riot cops. We startedwith sixty Marines and thirty-eight riot cops. These've been darkdays and darker nights. I was hoping you would make 'em a bitbrighter.”

“Then you hoped wrong,” Moore smirked, tapping hisknife to the side of his helmet.

“We are the shadow of death that heralds theunfortunate,” Aveer muttered. He said it not out of pride but outof fact.

“Awfully poetic,” Ramos remarked, taking his leave.

“Awfully true,” Clayton concluded.