Wolves
Assemblage

Sebastianstepped off the loading ramp and onto the platform where dock workersand manservants unloaded cargo. The Indefatigable satmajestically in its landing bay, loading ramps extended and landinggear in place. There were three other ships of the GAM navy parked ina row beside it, each of them with fueling vehicles hovering aroundthem. Traw glanced back, and perspective with the other ships showedhim how immense the Indefatigable trulywas.

The vast city lying beyond bustled with life, commercial agentsbuzzing about through the streets, some carrying supplies, othersdriving trucks, and the elite few delegating from their high offices.Towers stretched high above urban life, almost reaching the top ofthe dome which provided light, heat and oxygen to the citizens. Ofthe galaxy, Neptune was the capitol, and of Neptune, this was thecapitol. This city was the pinnacle of modern technological,architectural, and intellectual success.

At the center of the city was the Trinity: the OGS tower, the IRObase of operations, and the GAM headquarters. They stood like giants,watching the citizens with a mighty sword, powerful voice andvigilant eye.

Twelve approached Sebastian from behind, guiding Luella and Louisethrough the river of workers. “Master Traw,” he addressed, tryingto keep his voice modest yet able to puncture the noise of thebustling crowd. Sebastian turned about, drawing closer so he couldhear his servant. “Your wife and daughter will be picked up by atransport shortly to be taken to a resort on the city coast. Thiswill be your final opportunity to be with them until your grantedleave in eight months.”

Sebastian looked Luella and Louise in the eyes. Luella looked likeshe was on the verge of flowing over with emotion, her lip tremblingand eyes watering. Louise's expression was similar, yet more subdued.Her brow was lowered, like someone realizing they have been betrayedby a best friend. Luella ran forward and clutched her father's waist,sobbing into him. She gripped him progressively tighter as the tearssoaked into the edge of his ragged shirt. Sebastian and Louise lookedeach other in the eye, unsure of what to do or say. Finally, Louisedrew into her husband's embrace and they held each other. She did notcry. Neither did he.

Then came the grim dirge that was the transport horn. “You'dbetter go,” Sebastian told them. Louise looked him in the eye andkissed him. It was not passionate, yet it was unlike one they hadever done. It was lifeless. They were being severed. Sebastian bentdown and kissed Luella on the forehead. He couldn't bear to look herin the eyes. “Be good to your ma, okay?” he told her. She nodded.

Louise led Luella to the transport ship, the small bay door openingfor them. Sebastian watched, Twelve standing at his side. Luellaentered the darkness of the transport, but Louise paused. She lookedback at Sebastian. He nodded with assurance at her, as if saying“You'll be alright.” She nodded in reply, looking down. Then sheentered the vehicle. The door closed. They were away.

Sebastian looked at the pavement. He wiped a single tear from hiseye. “Do you need a tissue, sir?” Twelve asked.

“Shut up,” Sebastian barked, raising his head. “Just take meto the headquarters.”

“As you wish.”

There was a GAM dropship parked twenty meters away. “That's ours,”Twelve told his master, pointing to it. They made their way to theship, budging past citizens and dock workers. The artificial sun beatdown on all of them at a controlled temperature of eighty-twodegrees, and there was a ten-mile-per-hour gust of wind blowing eastthat was programmed to lull down at 1900 hours.

Captain Vault waited at the passenger bay of the ship, two guards athis side. By coincidence, they were Fred and Bill. “I have to filea report at headquarters of my itinerary,” Vault informed Traw.“I'll also be there to guide you through the security processes.We're twenty seconds away from being late, so I suggest we strap upand move out.”

“Agreed.”

Once all passengers were inside, the dropship hovered away andcruised a hundred meters in the air toward the GAM headquarters. Trawleaned back in his chair, looking out the circular window. Below himhe could see the people rushing about, going from place to place intheir daily routine and executing their assigned tasks. For a momenthe pondered the futility of it all, until he heard murmurs in theother room. He waited a moment, trying to tune himself into thesound. Traw rose from his chair after unstrapping himself andadvanced toward the doorway.

He cautiously crept along the wall, trying to reach a point at whichhe could hear better and distinguish words from the voices. “That'shim, you dumbass!” a whispering voice barked. “You got maggots inyour skull? Who else would be comin' on here with Traw?”

“What if it's another servant, though? They all look the same.”

“It's him. I'm tellin you. We gotta say somethin' to Vault. Heavenknows what that bastard servant could do to somebody else. He couldkill every one of us!”

“And let him know that we got beat up? We're gonna have to gothrough that re-training program. I've heard what happens to boys inthere. Not somethin' I wanna do.”

“Yeah, but I'd say it's worth it. Puttin' that bastard in a cellor a grave would let me sleep easier.”

Traw entered the room casually, spooking the two Marines engaged inconversation. They were Fred and Bill. “Excuse me, gentlemen,”Traw pardoned. The guards stood erect, as their orders stated.“Where's the bathroom on this thing?”

“Down the corridor, to the right,” Fred answered, avoiding eyecontact. A bead of sweat collected on his temple.

Traw nodded silently in thanks and left for the bathroom, his mindstirring with the words he overheard.

When Traw returned to his seat, he took a long glance at Twelve.Something certainly didn't settle right with him. He clicked hisstrap into place and stole another glance at Twelve. The clone's facewas so plain and sterile, with frigid innocence. Twelve's expressionrarely changed from its state of placid obedience. Yet Traw could seethe soul of an assassin hiding behind it. There was something aboutTwelve that disturbed him, having overheard the conversation betweenthe two guards, whose nameplates he had made a point to remember.Knowing now what he was capable of, Traw was uneasy around hisservant: like something inside Twelve was only waiting to spring intoaction, and no sooner recluse inside the inconspicuous veil of themanservan'ts simple face.

“We will be docking at GAM headquarters in 45 seconds,” thepilot alerted over the speakers in the cabin. “Grab your luggageand prepare to depart to your respective locations upon docking.”

Suddenly, there was a great quake from the portside stern of theship. Twelve and Traw gripped the arms of their seats. Red lightsflashed overhead in the cabin. They both heard the muffled sounds oflaser fire outside. The dropship boosted further and faster towardthe landing pad at GAM headquarters, pressing the passengers to theirseats.

Crushing the landing gear, the dropship skidded sideways on theextended pad on the side of the tower, its bay doors opening.Covering his face from smoke, Traw stumbled outside the cabin of thedropship and onto the landing pad, Twelve close behind. He lookedbehind him and saw two rust-chewed, cobbled-together fighter craftpelting the landed dropship with heavy laser fire. Traw dashed insidethe hangar bay with the remaining passengers at his side. “ProtectTraw!” the security captain yelled over the harsh sound of laserfire outside. No sooner had he finished the sentence than he took alaser bolt to the chest. Guards surrounded Traw and Twelve, urgingthem to safety.

Retaliating, ten mounted cannons on the face of the tower openedfire on the attacking ships, pounding them to shrapnel with superiorfirepower. The flaming, destroyed chunks of hull fell down to thecity below. Like a well-oiled machine, a host of firefightingvehicles were there to catch the flaming remains in massive nets andprevent them from causing any more damage.

“What were those?” Traw wondered in terror, looking back to thelanding pad where the dropship lay alight. He noticed several Marinecorpses strewn on the landing pad.

“Insurgents,” Captain Vault answered, sitting on a nearby crate,clutching his leg. “They've probably been following us the wholetime.”

“And this kinda thing...it happens frequently?”

“Not here. Not on Neptune, let alone the capitol. At least notthat I know of.”

“Kripes. How's your leg?”

“Eh, I've suffered worse. In a couple hours, I'll be fine. Youshould head to Venko's office for the briefing. That, and it's thesafest place around here.”

Twelve led his master through the hangar bay to the elevators,neither of them saying a word. “Would you like me to clean yourclothing, sir?” Twelve asked, breaking the ice.

“I'm fine.”

“As you wish, Master Traw.”

Gritting his teeth, Traw snapped, “Quit callin' me 'Master Traw',alright? I'm a farmer, not a lord. Get it straight.” Twelve saidnothing in reply, bowing his head. Traw felt bad for a moment, thenthe elevator stopped. It was showtime.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a large, circular room with aslim hallway directly across from the elevator doors. A secretary satat the desk, typing information onto a small, delicate keyboard thatfit her body frame. Traw walked up to the desk, leaning over it. “CanI help you, sir?” she asked in a petite voice, adjusting her thinglasses.

“Yeah, I'm here to see Commander General Venko.”

“Well I'm sorry, but you'll need an appointment. He's a very busyman.” Her tone turned sour and dismissive.

“You don't seem to understand,” Twelve interrupted, reachinginto his pocket. He pulled out a chrome identification card andplaced it on the edge of her desk. “Venko has an appointment withthis man. Not the other way around.”

She picked it up and peered at it closely. “Oh...my apologies,”she said, giving the card back to Twelve. The secretary rose from herseat and shook Traw's hand. He was delicate with her, afraid he wouldcrush her thin hand. “I'll inform him of your arrival. And Mr.Traw...” She drew in closer, looking him in the eye and stoppinghim. “Are you single?”

Traw blinked rapidly. “No, ma'am, I'm not. I've got a wife anddaughter. Just take me to the Commander General.” Her friendlydemeanor dropped.

“Right this way,” she guided, walking down the hallway holding adatapad, her steps light and precise. “I'll try one of the others.At least one of them's bound to be single,” the secretary grumbledunder her breath.

With fingers like needles she opened the tall steel doors at the endof the light hallway, revealing a large room before them. At thecenter of the room there was a large round table, four men seatedaround it and one man at the opposite end standing with his handsplaced firmly on the surface. Behind him was a broad, crystal-clearwindow looking out over the cityscape. “Welcome, Mr. Traw,” theman at the end of the table greeted.

“Is this it?” Traw asked, looking around.

“It is indeed. Please, take a seat. There's one left for you.”

Traw moved slowly toward the seat, then sat down in it, shiftingtoward the table. “I'm Commander General Venko,” the standing manintroduced. His voice was weathered, much like his face: he had threescars running down his left cheek, and the remaining hair on top ofhis head slimmed back crisply.

“The man you're sitting next to is Bruce Moore.” Traw lookedover to Bruce, who had sharp, black hair that spiked up an inch likea jungle on his scalp. On the side of his neck was a prison numeraltattoo.

“Going leftward is Khamisi Aveer.” He was a broad-chested,dark-skinned man with coarse dreadlocks that ran down to the middleof his back. Aveer stared at the center of the table, somewhat out oftouch with the current situation.

“Afterhim is Theodore Clayton.” Clayton sat hunched over in his chair,his hands folded together. Wiry spectacles sat on the bridge of hisnose in front of his beady eyes, which seemed to examine one's innersoul. His frame was small, standing hardly five feet tall, with limbslike sticks. Hardly a fighter, Trawthought after scanning Clayton.

“Finally, we come to Michael Sanchez.” Sanchez sat hunched overthe table, his jaw locked in a forward position. His tan skin waseasy to see through his dark, short hair and the stubble around hischin. A tattoo of a dragon curled around his eye and down his cheek.He wore urban clothes, easily recognizable by the boisterous colorsand gold-embossed lines.

“These are your new partners, gentlemen,” Venko concluded. “Isuggest you learn to work together. You'll need to.”

“Who are our orders coming from?” Clayton inquired, leaningforward.

“Me, personally. I'll be orchestrating everything, including theexecution. Your task is simply to carry out my orders and ask noquestions. My head trainer, Ivan Klept, will be preparing you for themissions ahead. Your training will begin in the morning at 0700. Thetime is currently 1510, so I suggest you retreat to your compound forthe evening.”

“Will we get to see our families again before deployment?” Aveerasked, his accent thick and difficult to understand. It becameevident to Traw that he was not raised speaking this language.

“Unfortunately no,” Venko replied in a terse voice, trying tosound accomodating. “The schedule does not leave space for frequentvisits to family. It will be another eight months of service, thenyou will have a three-day leave to see your families, followed byanother eight months of service, then another leave, and finally,another eight months. Finally, you will all rest in luxury with yourfamilies safe.”

“I ain't got a family, I'm just doin' this for the cash, man,”Moore smirked, kicking back his seat. “If I can rape some bitchesalong the way and pop a few more heads, that's fine by me.”

“How'd you even get here?” Traw asked, the disgust plain on hisface.

“Mr. Bruce Moore was the one who led the prison break in City 12on Sino. Your home planet, as a matter of fact, Mr. Traw. On recordhe killed six guards with his bare hands, nine with a shotgun, andanother eighteen Nektro troopers while he was unarmed.”

“Why didn't you kill the Nektro with the shotgun?” Aveerwondered.

“You never quite get that same thrill as hearing a neck crunch ora spine snap,” he grinned, remembering fondly the battle. “It'sgot that special somethin' that just can't be replaced. It's funny,really. Those Nektro bastards...their armor's like paper. I wentright through it. But switchin' gears: what I really wanna know ishow little Clayton over there even got considered to be on thissquad.”

Clayton made no sign of response, save staring at Moore in reply.“Since it's evident you aren't aware, Clayton launched an EMP fromhis facility that knocked out all enemy technology when they arrived.Guns, dropships, fighter craft...all powerless. Within twelve hours,all Nektro platoons were eliminated by our ground forces, and thearmada in orbit was obliterated. He saved the planet.”

Moore looked into his lap, setting his jaw and saying nothing.Clayton bade his mocker no triumphant gaze or witty remark. “You'reall dismissed to Compound 9. Wake up at 0600 tomorrow, gentlemen.You've got a long five weeks ahead of you.”

Inside their barracks, the five squad members unpacked theirbelongings, settling into their bunks for the night. “Hey,Sanchez,” Moore called, propping himself up on the bottom bunk, hiselbow resting on the two-inch padding.

“What?” Sanchez snapped in reply.

“We never got to hear how you got here with us. Do tell.”

“Me and my boys gunned down at least a hundred of them littlebastards in the streets of my city. A few cops, too, while we were atit. I was the one who really led the charge, though, you know what Imean? Those aliens are dead 'cause of me.”

“That's some grade A merit right there,” Moore remarked half tohimself, looking down at his fingernails. “How 'bout you, Avery?What's up with you?”

“Aveer.”

“Sorry,Aveer. Kripes, I can'tget all your names right. How'd you get here?”

“Defended my village.”

“Ah, c'mon! More than that, negro! I want more detail! More grit!”Moore hollered playfully.

“That's enough,” Traw scolded from the bunk above in a voice ofstone.

Moore paused. “I just need a bedtime story,” he said in mockinnocence. “Tell me yours and I'll shut up.”

Traw ground his teeth and answered, “Fine. I shot down a fewsquads of Nektro footsoldiers in the street and helped save somerefugees. You happy? Now shut up and go to sleep.”

“Yes sir,” Moore concluded, sneering. “Welcome to the sweetlife, boys. Killin' fools and rapin' native bitches, while gettin' paid todo it with unlimited ammo. This is what I dreamed as a kid, and I'mfinally livin' it. Sleep well. This is the first day of the rest ofour lives.”