Wolves
Encounter

Clayton sat in the pilot's chair, gripping the handletightly as flames plumed the stern of the ship. He gritted his teethas the entire vessel rumbled. Finally, the vehicle broke through theatmosphere, and there was the cool serenity of space greeting themwith open arms. Clayton sat back in his chair and swiveled about,facing the other four men, who sat clenching the arms of their ownchairs. “If I went the rest of my life never doing that again, Iwould not complain,” remarked Clayton, running his hand along histhinning hair.

The five men unstrapped themselves from their chairsand stretched, feeling more loose and rattled, like their skeletonshad been jostled. “It's in cruise control on a course for the edgeof the State's borders. Full speed. We can relax for a bit until weget to the edge.”

“Or until that little pack of pow finally blows,”Sanchez muttered, shrugging. He was half joking. Traw again thoughtof the hostages. It had been two days since the transmission fromVenko. For all Traw knew, his wife and daughter could be nothing butash.

He slid down a rung ladder at the back of the cockpitand entered the living space. It looked oddly like the barracks backat the GAM headquarters. Aveer came down after him, looking about thequarters. The entire ship reeked of fuel and rotting food, which Trawreckoned to be the source of some leftover morsels hiding in theshadows. “What's your point in bein' here?” Traw wondered,casually rummaging through leftover material on the two tables at thecenter of the room. “Joinin' us. Life back in your village seemedokay. But you're a bit of a tomb when it comes to sharin' yourreasons.”

“I keep it that way for a reason,” Aveer quipped.He almost seemed irritated by Traw's probing, but not enough toarrest him from doing so. “I came here to protect my family. Welived on the edge of occupation space. The Nektro would have soonbeen upon us, and I would not be able to stop them, no matter howmany villagers I had by my side. Though now I fear I may have onlysunk them into a deeper pit.”

Traw turned around, setting an empty can back onto thetable. He put his hand on Aveer's shoulder. “We're gonna come outon top,” Traw assured him, with a dogged look in his eye. “We'regonna kick Venko's filthy ass and save our families. Don't think wewon't.”

“I just want to flee. Take my family and leave,beyond the reach of the State,” Aveer wished.

“That makes two of us,” Traw agreed. “But we'rehere. Wishin' won't get us anywhere.”

“What is it you miss most?”

Traw paused, rubbing his gruff hand to his gruff chin.“Just...bein' home, I guess. Smellin' dinner. Hearin' my daughter.Kissin' my wife. Y'know, part of me wanted to leave last night. Myhomestead was probably less than a hundred miles out from where wecamped, and I was tempted to just ditch y'all. But it wouldn't be thesame. Not without my two ladies.”

Aveer nodded thoughtfully. Sanchez shouted below, “Yo,that distress beacon's up, so we could get Nektro any minute now.They're supposed to be parked close to here, so get ready.”

“Thanks, Sanchez,” Traw replied. He walked over andlaid down on one of the beds. “I'm gonna get some shut-eye untilthat bug army picks us up. You might wanna do the same.”

“Not a terrible idea,” Aveer commented, laying downon one of the four bunks. It was cramped, leaving his large mass withlittle space.

Due to his lack of quality sleep the night before, Trawwas soon unconscious, his uniform dress cap slumped over his face.After what he thought was twenty minutes, he heard Clayton's voicebeside him. Traw blinked himself awake, groggily looking over to thedirection of the voice. Clayton was on his hands and knees on thefloor beside Traw, with a small toolbox opened. “Pardon me,”Clayton excused, lifting up one of the interior panels. “I justhave a bit of work to do here. This ship has more than a few problemswith the auxiliary systems, so I'm taking a bit of time to fix them.”

“You know we're just gonna be hitchhiking onto theNektro ship, right? It doesn't matter if this one's got a few bugshere n' there,” Traw muttered, only half awake yet.

“I'm aware of the plan,” Clayton corrected, “butthis gives me something to do. It certainly is more pleasant thansitting in the cockpit watching the dead space, waiting for either analien cruiser to show up, or for part of this ship to explode and GAMships to arrive and salvage us. So I'm making repairs.”

Traw shrugged, rolling back over onto his side.“Where're the other two?” he wondered in a mumble.

“Upstairs practicing fighting. I believe they're ofmy mindset. An idle mind is the devil's playground.”

“You're in a peppy mood for someone waitin' for astorm,” Traw grumbled beneath his breath. Suddenly, the ship shook,and the lights of the cabin went out. They flickered back to life,and Traw rolled out of his bunk, grabbing his helmet from the table.Aveer was soon on the ground, reaching for his helmet as well. WhenTraw looked and the cabin was visible again, Clayton was alreadyclimbing the ladder.

“That'd be the bomb,” Traw remarked, climbing upclose after Clayton, with Aveer waiting behind him.

Soon all five men were assembled in the cockpit, andClayton was at the control panel, switching buttons and turningknobs, none of which made any sense to anyone else in the room.“Everything here is damaged,” Clayton alerted, “engines aredead, life support is severely damaged, lights are on a bit of backuppower, sensors are basically all dead, communications is down, withthe exception of the distress beacon, but thankfully radar's stillsomewhat functional. How, I have no idea. But we can still see shipscoming and...oh, god...”

“What?” Moore asked urgently, coming up alongsideClayton.

“Two GAM ships, inbound. They just broke through theatmosphere. No doubt the explosion is only prefacing their arrival.”

“Make sure we don't have any weapons on us,” Trawmentioned, unholstering his pistol and tossing it down the laddershaft. Moore and Sanchez both unclipped ammunition, pistols andknives from their armor. Moore unstrapped his shotgun shell belt, andreluctantly looked at it. He kissed it and dropped it down the shaft.

“Thus the waiting game begins,” Clayton muttered,placing his hands firmly onto the control panel. A dense, black smokebegan to seep into the room through the vents. Traw was grateful hishelmet had an air filter.

There was a solemn silence among the five men. “Shipsat six thousand meters,” Clayton notified. He spoke it in a tonesuggesting his conceded attitude. “Their guns are armed.”

Then, like a bolt of lightning, three immensebattleships appeared from out of hyperspace. There was no mistakingthem for ships built by humans. Their hulls were sleek, with a purplesheen to the massive armor plating. Rows of slim, curved cannonslined their hulls, some larger than others. Clayton franticallychecked the radar. He turned around to face the others and grinned,“The Marines have stopped.”

“Marine ships, halt your advance on this vessel,”came a voice over the speaker on the control panel. The voice wasdeep and inhuman, yet had an obvious understanding of the language,which impressed Clayton especially.

“This is apparently an open transmission,” heremarked, “but I've never heard Nektro talk in our language before.This is...astounding.”

“Don't get too impressed, they're still the enemy,”Moore muttered, looking out the window.

“Nektro ships, we are simply coming to aid thisdamaged vessel. As I'm sure you're aware, they put out a distressbeacon.”

“Your weapons are engaged. That is no measure ofpeace.”

There was only static from the Marine line for a longfive seconds. “Either way, this is private GAM business. Leave now,and we'll forget you ever crossed State borders.”

“We will be taking this ship. If you want to fightus, you may. There will be no Nektro blood spilled into the starshere, though.”

Again, there was static from the Marines' ships. Thistime, there was no indication of their reply. “They're leaving,”Clayton told the others, staring down at the cracked radar display.The middle Nektro vessel, which appeared more ornate and slightlylarger than the other two, advanced toward the Death Squad's ship.“They seem awful hellbent on takin' us,” Traw remarked, watchingthe gargantuan vessel approach them.

“Let's hope it's for a good reason,” Moore added.

Sweat beaded on Traw's helmet-cushioned face as theirsmall ship sat idle in the growing shadow of the approaching Nektrovessel. Clayton watched intently as the massive hull of the Nektroflagship blocked out the light of the distant star. Moore clenchedhis hands into fists, swallowing hard. Sanchez noticed, and nudgedMoore on the shoulder. Sanchez made a relaxed gesture, and Mooreunclenched his fists. Aveer breathed deep, trying to calm himself.His chest rose and sank. Traw tapped his fingers to the side of hisleg, trying not to think of what might happen to them aboard thecruiser. They were entirely at the mercy of the Nektro.

There was a great clamping sound coming from both sidesof the ship, and the men could feel it rising. Faint sounds ofmechanics penetrated the hull of the little ship for the men to hear.Clayton looked about through the cockpit window. They were beingelevated toward the cruiser by some sort of attaching clamp. Baydoors opened, and the ship slowly entered what appeared to be thehangar bay of the Nektro flagship. It was dark, with only a fewpurple lights toward the ceiling illuminating the area. Then all thenoise stopped. The bay doors closed.

The men looked at each other. The tipping point of thesituation was imminent, and each of them knew it. Then they heard thesound of the ship's door opening in the lower cabin. There were feetshuffling and rummaging for some thirty seconds. A few Nektro voicestalked to one another in their guttural, squawking speech. Like antsscittering up a wall, the Nektro ascended the ladder and took a looseformation at the bow side of the cockpit. Footsoldiers continued topour into the dark cabin, until the five men were backed against thedashboard with no small amount of discomfort. None of them spoke aword, or so much as a whisper. The Nektro were more erect than theyusually seemed, like they were standing at attention.

Up from the ladder shaft came another Nektro. This onewas different from the rest, not only in attire, but in the way hewalked. He had a slim silver helmet with protruding cheek plates, anda purple cape that glimmered even in the dark. Hanging from his waistwas an oddly curved cutlass that tapped against his leg with eachslightly hobbling step he took. He approached the Death Squad,looking at each of them directly. It was as if he was conducting anobservation for an experiment.

“Welcome aboard the Dak' Jahud,” the leader greetedin impeccable English, an elegance coming from his reptilian throat.