Wolves
Dismay

Three figures bolted through the urban shadows, sliversof cool moonlight grazing their agile silhouettes. The city wasquiet, like a dormant beast. Disturbing it in any way could beimmediately disastrous.

The three figures were careful to keep to the alleysand rooftops, to be heard little and seen less. “This is Traw,what's your location?” a familiar voice spoke.

“Threehundred yards from power transformer. The corner of 32ndStreet and Gorge Avenue. What do the eagle eyes see?” Moorereplied, slinking up alongside a brick wall with Clayton and Sanchezbeside him.

“Oh, I see you. Damn, you are hard to catch in thedark. I guess that's a good thing in this case. You got a coupledrunks approaching about ah...thirty yards to your right. Other thanthat, nothing stirring around you. Proceed to the next corner. Igotcha covered.”

Moore, Clayton and Sanchez slipped across the long,desolate street, their armored boots clanking against the asphalt,which they couldn't stop from happening. Luckily it was shroudedamong the sounds of old vents and air conditioners. Moore kept inmind that gunfire would not be camouflaged by any means.

“Yo, hold up,” Sanchez halted, raising his fist andcrouching to the pavement. Clayton and Moore followed suit, lookingin his direction. Sanchez was staring behind him, wishing he couldseep into the environment. Two trucks turned the corner behind thethree men, roaring their ill-maintained engines and blaring theirominous lights down the empty black street ahead. The rumble of theirmechanics gave them the presence of predators.

“You ready to light 'em up?” Moore asked, clutchingthe fore-end of his shotgun.

Tires rolling along the littered street, the truckspassed without disturbance. “Follow them,” Clayton urged, risingfrom his position. The three men advanced with as much silence ascould be mustered, tailing the trucks. Due to the enhancement intheir armor, they could run with greater speed and endurance than anyman possessed, and were able to keep at a steady pace behind thevehicles.

For two more streets they followed the trucks, stickingto the shadows and creeping along walls. “In here, guys. We got atarget,” Moore ordered, slipping into an alley. Clayton and Sanchezcame in beside him.

The power transformer yard lay at the end of thestreet, surrounded by barbed wire fences, standing fifteen feet tall.Four poles stood at each corner of the fenced lot, each of themmounted with a rack of heavy lights that illuminated the area. At thecenter of the lot was the transformer, massive and complex, withwires attaching each of the bulky, metal limbs to the behemothcenter.

The two trucks stopped at the gate, and a small squadof armed men approached them from the checkpoint booth stationedbeside the gate. “Traw, you getting this?” Sanchez asked,watching the lot from fifty yards down the street. He and his twoteam members were tucked safely in a dark alleyway, clear of anyunfriendly eyes.

“I didn't know citizens could own guns like thataround here,” Traw marveled, focusing his scope on the squadinspecting the trucks. “Not that these folk seem the legal typeanyways. Hey, those trucks got somethin' in their top hatches. Idunno, it looks like...yeah, more guns. Big ones. I can't be sure,but they look like turrets. Okay, they're movin' in. You three go andget a closer look.”

The three men advanced with extra caution in theirsteps and movements. Sanchez bolted ahead, pressing himself upagainst the corner of the wire wall. The other two were close behind.“Damn, son...that's a lotta guns,” he muttered, gesturing forthem to come next to him. Around the transformer and scattered aboutthe fenced lot were armed men, most of them with combat gear andsidearms strapped to their hips. Sanchez counted eight trucks parkedin the lot, five of them with turrets mounted to their flatbeds.

“I gotta wonder where all this comes from,” Trawremarked, taking it all in through his scope. “I'm pretty sure thatstuff ain't easy to hide with a few platoons of Marines crawlin'around the city.”

“Alright, we're all here!” an unfamiliar voicehollered from within the fence wall. Clayton crawled a few paces tohis left for a better view. A man was standing on the hood of one ofthe trucks, evidently the leader of the mob. He wore a brown coatthat stretched to his knees, a rough, broad-brimmed cap, leathergloves, and a shabby old breastplate. A revolver was strapped to eachhip, held on by a ragged belt with a buckle that looked like it hadbeen to hell and emerged in one piece.

A standard-issue GAM rifle slung over his shoulder inone hand, he continued in a voice of haggard authority, “We'regonna get what we want finally, and this ain't gonna be easy. Itnever has been. Some of us ain't gonna make it once we charge on thattower. It might be me, it might be you. But we got the means, and wegot the men...so we're gonna demand our rights with gunfire!” Themajority of those congregated raised their guns and cheered.“Alright, let's move!”

Still engaged in an excited rabble, the militiasoldiers piled into the trucks and mustered into companies on foot.The gates opened, and vehicles sped out, bullets spitting into theair from the barrels of turrets and rifles. Behind the convoy oftrucks were organized companies of militia soldiers, marching inrigid formation. The three Death Squad members near the fenced lothad to seek cover, and did so just in time. Had they done so with asecond's more delay, there would have been certain situationalcomplications.

“Aveer, get ready. You got at least a hundred armedmen comin' your way,” Traw notified. He looked out at the citysquare from his position at the roof of the tower. For a brief momenthe was lost in the landscape that lay beyond. It was the landscape ofhis home.

“Me and my company are prepared,” Aveer replied. Heand a dozen Marines were lined up behind the repaired barricade.

Then, to Aveer's surprise, a group of children pouredout from a few of the adjacent homes lining the city square. “Whatthe hell?” Traw wondered, peering down at them. Then there wasanother group coming from the opposite side. Several other clusterswalked out of the buildings surrounding the tower. Soon there wereclose to fifty children huddled together in the broad space,advancing toward the tower.

“Get gone, all of you! Go!” Corporal Ramos shouted,firing his pistol into the air in an attempt to spook the disturbingmass of children. They continued toward the tower, at a faster pace.

“They're gonna get killed, do somethin'!” Trawurged over the communicator. He began to sweat along his nylonjumpsuit within his armor.

“I can't, these kids aren't leaving,” Aveeranswered, his eyes darting from side to side. “Get gone! All ofyou!” The children were only twenty meters away, and growing closerwith every second. Aveer saw the truck convoy approaching and heardthe rumble of their engines.

“What's going on down there?” Moore asked, turningaround to see the rear flank of the militia companies down thestreet. Clayton was approaching the transformer with his gun charged,and Sanchez was patrolling the area for any remaining soldierslurking about.

“There's this, this mob of kids. There's somethin'like fifty of 'em, all comin' at the frontline of our boys down atthe steps of the tower,” flustered Traw. “I dunno what's goin'on, but this sure ain't goin' without a plan. Those boys organizeddown at the transformer, and these kids here...somethin's up. Doesn'tlook like any of these fellas are masterminds, I'd say someone'sbehind this.”

“Well, we can theorize once we got enough militiacorpses. Priority right now's those kids. Just shoot one of thelittle bastards, and the rest'll scatter,” Moore suggested with anair of nonchalance. Traw could tell the difference between when a manwas being crass and when a man was being sincere. Moore was eerilyhonest.

The children stopped at the base of the stairs, and onewalked forward to Aveer, who was at the center of the barricade. Thetrucks were closer, their engines louder. “Get out of here,”Aveer urged in what could be called a holler, pointing away.

The lone child looked up at him with eyes that seemedinnocent, almost helpless. It was a boy, of maybe ten years. Hissmall brown eyes looked like they belonged in a mouse, and his upperteeth bent over. In the dim light of the lanterns along the ridge ofthe barricade, Aveer noticed the boy was wearing a long, heavy coat.“The boy's wearing a big coat,” Aveer muttered.

Traw's eyes grew wide when he heard those words comefrom Aveer's mouth. “Oh, god, get out of there, Aveer! All of youget away from that boy!” he yelled into the communicator.

With the same innocent eyes, the boy opened up hisjacket to reveal padding and wires strapped to his chest, with a redblinking light at the center.

The barricade shattered in violent flames.

The rest of the children in large coats rushed up thesteps and sifted through the hallways, and there were more explosionsinside the tower at different levels. Traw rose to his feet and feltthe building shake with explosions in rapid succession. The militiatrucks arrived with wild gunfire heralding them, then the city wentdark. Only flames and fire lit up the city square.

Traw fell to his knees. He began to shake, thinking ofhis own daughter. “We did it!” Sanchez hollered, interruptingTraw's troubled thoughts. “We just gotta wait these bastards outnow and fight off those militia at the tower.” Traw didn't reply.

Moore and Sanchez looked at each other. Clayton lookedup as well. They knew something was wrong. “Anyone there?”Clayton asked.

Drawing a shallow breath, Traw answered, “Th-thechildren...they had bombs. All of them had bombs attached to theirchests.”

“Oh, dear god,” Clayton gasped. “Where's Aveer?”

Traw paused. “I'm getting him,” he answereddeterminedly, scrambling to his feet and hurrying toward the door.

“We'll get back as fast as we can,” Moore replied.

Traw hustled down the narrow stairwell, his pistoldrawn. Smoke drifted up from the first floor twenty flights below. Heheard several men entering the stairwell. Shuffling down anotherflight, he heard the militia soldiers' footsteps stop. There was abrief exchange of gunfire and a holler from a riot cop, then theycontinued. Once he was only three flights away and could see the feetof his enemies, he threw an adhesive grenade to the railing, and themen drew no more breaths. Traw passed over them and through therubble smoke without a second thought.

He exited the doorframe to the lobby and was greetedwith punishing machine gun fire from a truck parked on the frontsteps. Traw immediately backed up into the hallway as the bulletschipped the side of the doorway and sprayed searing pebbles past hisface.

He pulled an adhesive grenade from his belt and notedhe had two left, along with two shrapnel grenades. Traw threw himselfout of the doorway and tossed a grenade at the hull of the truck,then tumbled onto the rubble-covered lobby floor. With a deafeningblast, the grenade detonated on impact and blew away five other menrushing up the steps behind it.

Traw looked around and ran toward what remained of thefrontal barricade. “Aveer!” he called, panting from exhaustionand stress. The rest of the militia were evidently in the basementlevels, locked into combat with the few Marines and police left. Trawknew it would be a long time before they broke in, as thefortifications had been made thick and dense.

Over the sound of crumbling debris and roaring flames,he heard a groan nearby replying to his call. Traw frantically lookedabout him, then noticed two armored legs protruding from beneath aheap of barricade rubble. He reached for a large hunk of concrete andlifted it aside, causing a small avalanche of chunks to tumble wherethe large hunk once lay. Traw cleared it aside and pushed the rest ofthe rubble away. There lay Aveer, his suit ruptured and scorched. Hishelmet had a crack running along the side.

Traw lifted the mask off Aveer and propped up his bulkytorso with a weary arm. “Aveer!” Traw called, patting Aveer'sface. Then he heard footsteps approaching from one of the basementstairwells, so he clipped Aveer's mask back onto his face, slung theheavy man over his shoulder, and rushed for the upper stairwell.

After reaching eight flights, Traw found himself forcedto rest on one of the landings. He lifted off his own helmet and drewas many fresh breaths as he could. The smoke and ash choked his tightlungs. He coughed and spit onto the concrete, tasting the fine duston his tongue. Aveer showed no sign of waking. Traw laid his headagainst the corner of the wall and tried to breathe deep. He squintedhis eyes and thought of home. It was on the very same planet, but hefelt like he was in an entirely different world.

“Just...twelve more,” he muttered to himself,looking up at the flights above him. Then he heard a rabble ofmilitia soldiers bursting into the stairwell. They were assembled inclear task squads: one for each level. Traw grumbled, picking Aveerback up.

With the last ounces of his energy and the suitbecoming of little help to his strength, Traw nearly crawled up thelast flight of stairs. The doorway to the rooftop lay just ahead.Once emerged, he could close and lock the door behind him. What hewould do after, he had no idea. Sweat ran down his trembling brow ashe inched up the stairs with the heavy armored man lying across hisback.

Finally,he fell down on the gravel-layered rooftop and let Aveer fall besidehim. He picked up his helmet and fitted it back onto his head.Panting, he opened a channel to the Indefatigablewith a set of verbal commands. “DS05 Traw requesting immediateevacuation. At roof of central tower. DS01 Aveer wounded. Groundforces engaging us now.” He laid his head to rest. Two militiasoldiers emerged from the doorway and approached Traw, who appeareddead. One of them scuttled closer and prodded the tip of his gun atTraw's helmet, checking for any sign of life. The soldier mutteredsomething to his companion, then reached for Traw's helmet. Trawmustered his energy to lift his arm and shot down both militiasoldiers.

A few minutes later, Moore slid down by Traw's sideafter running toward him across the short space of gravel. “Youhere, man?” he asked, lifting off Traw's helmet. Clayton budgedMoore aside and pressed his index and middle fingers at a certainpoint on Traw's neck.

“He's alive,” Clayton confirmed, stepping back.Sanchez lifted Aveer's mask, and Clayton knelt down beside the largerunconscious man. “So is he.”

Traw blinked himself awake and instinctively clutchedhis pistol. “Hey, it's cool, it's just us,” Sanchez assured,snapping his finger to draw Traw's attention. “Ain't none of thosemilitia bastards left. We took 'em out.”

“You see that there?” Moore said, pointing into thedistance. There was a small pair of white lights approaching in thesky. He gently held Traw's head up so he could see the lights.“That's the dropship. They're comin' to get us. You'll be alright,just stay with me.”

Evenin his addled state, Traw noticed Moore was kinder than he had everseen him. His mouth hanging open to reveal blood spilling down theside of his cheek, Traw relaxed and let the Sinoan breeze flow overhim. The sensation never felt so pleasant. He reckoned it was becausenow he could fully appreciate it. He had been through war and seenthe ugliest sides of it. All the memories stirred in his head like asymphony. Yet he couldn't remember Luella or Louise's faces. For amoment he panicked inside. He couldn't fully recall what either ofthem looked like. He could only see blurs of their faces, likereflections in a murky pond. I have apicture of them in my quarters, heassured himself. I'll be able to seethem again. I will. I'm going to make sure it happens.

“Here they are!” Sanchez hollered in a ruggedvoice, waving to the cockpit with both hands. It hovered a foot abovethe surface of the roof, and a small team of medics came to assistAveer and Traw. The other three men climbed onto the ship withoutaid.

Captain Vault came up alongside Traw, who was laid outon a stretcher. Holding his cap down from the wind, Vault assuredhim, “You're safe now, Sebastian.” Vault bit his lip and lookedback at the two militia corpses. Traw mustered a vague nod, then laidhis head to rest. “What about the rest of the militia out in thecity?” Sanchez asked, pointing out to the night city that laybeyond. “We came to finish the job.”

“Jobs change. We got three platoons coming down at0600 tomorrow morning. Your work here's done,” Vault informedSanchez, as well as Moore and Clayton, who were standing nearby.

“This was organized. We've all been deceived,”Clayton muttered bluntly.

“What?” Vault almost laughed.

“I've never seen militia this well armed andorganized. They marched like us. They fought like us. They usedchildren as walking bombs. They used a brutal attack formation. Thiskind of warfare doesn't come from a planet like Sino.”

Vault paused for a moment, checking about to makecertain the area was clear and evacuation was ready to go. “Getinside the transport, and don't speak a word of this to anyone,” heordered dismissively. Moore and Sanchez walked into the aircraft,then Clayton, after a moment of hesitation. Vault took a moment togaze out at the city, his hands on his hips and his jacket slippedback. He wondered for a moment if Clayton's presumptions wereaccurate.

“Sir, we have to leave now. Another group ofinsurgents are inbound,” one of the pilots informed into Vault'searpiece. Vault stepped into the dropship, the hatch closed, and theydeparted into the night sky.

Trawawoke to Aveer's voice, saying, “I've never been favored in such away, my friend.” Traw blinked, turning his head. He was in theinfirmary aboard the Indefatigable,with a host of nurses and doctors meandering about, each with theirown task. Aveer was sitting upright on the bed beside his. Trawmuscled his way to a propped up position, letting out a little groan.

“Death Squad for life,” Traw muttered with a warmgrin. “We watch out for each other.”

“Yeah, we made it. This is the end of the line. Weall get to go home and live rich.” Aveer sounded a twingedisappointed despite his satisfaction.

“I'm going to make a lotta love to my wife backhome,” Traw laughed. Aveer chuckled, thinking of his own wife.“What's yours like? Dark-skinned, like you?”

Aveer paused for a moment. He reminisced, like anyonedoes while filing through old memories. “Yes...none of us in thevillage aren't. She has eyes fit for a goddess, and the stature of aqueen,” he described, looking blankly to the floor. “Her handsare always soft after a day of work. And her hair always smells likethe flowers that grow in the fields beyond our village.”

“She sounds great,” Traw remarked. Aveer's lifeseemed so simple at home, and yet so full. Aveer was silent a whilelonger. Something else seemed to perturb him. “Somethin' on yourmind?”

He held in his words for a moment, trying to composethem. “Those children...few things in this world are more horrificthan that. They were so innocent. Many of them seemed almost pleasedwith themselves. Who would tell them to do such a thing?”

Traw swallowed hard. Again he thought of Luella.“Someone's got a sick mind,” was all Traw could mutter. Althoughhe wasn't certain, he assumed Aveer's children were around the sameage.

Both men sat in their beds in silence for a long time.

“Liar!” Moore yelled, pounding his fist to CaptainVault's desk, vicious spit spraying across the captain's face. “I'mgonna tear you apart, you piece of shit!”

“And be court martialed for life, saying goodbye tothat pretty check. I shouldn't think so,” Vault quipped with calmconfidence. Moore stopped, clenching his fists and panting from rage.

“That was organized, I'm telling you,” Mooreinsisted, with slightly less violence bursting from his throat.“There's no goddamn way that this was just a riot. Claytonmentioned this. You know this. Venko knows this. That was a planned,calculated attack. They had better guns and gear than our ownMarines, they were trained, and those kids...that was just wrong.”Moore looked down at the table, his jaw set. “I just want mypaycheck, and to be done with this whole fiasco. This is not what gotadvertised.”

“I didn't know about any of this,” Vault assuredhim. “I just relay the orders to you, nothing more. Venko organizedthis whole mission, I had no part in it. And I'm sorry about thekids. I didn't..”

“You have no idea what was going on there, don't playthe saint,” Moore interrupted with a scowl.

“I know it was bad, and I wish I could've came insooner. But...I want you to redirect your energy toward someone else.Someone who's responsible for this.”

He knew exactly of whomthe Captain spoke. He then looked up, dark determination in his eyes. "Go on, Captain," Moore grinned.

"We're not the only ones who think like this," Vault continued, rising from his chair and observing the forum from the veil of his tinted window. "To my knowledge, there are fourteen other officers on the Council who share my contempt for Rank Alpha, including George Derringer, who is poised to succeed Venko, and has the loyalty of many other lower ranking officers. Five of these council members and their respective armies are currently stationed on Neptune, and the other nine are either at the helm of flagships like this one, or controlling key systems across the reach of the State."

"Point being..?" Moore wondered, tilting his head back and cocking it slightly to the left.

"Each of the aforementioned officers, myself included, holds a pivotal position across the State, and would undoubtedly be able to muster more troops if the opportunity presented itself. If I say the word, we'll assemble at Neptune, assassinate Venko and imprison any loyalists. We can change the entire State overnight with a swift coup. And Death Squad will be the vanguards of this dethroning. What do you think?"

Moore stood up and cracked his knuckles. "I think we need to get the rest of the squad in here."