Wolves
Accession

Traw kicked down the door to Madame Donovan's car. Hisheadlamp illuminating the foggy darkness, Traw scanned the area. Nota soul was to be found. Then he noticed a body on the floor. Hestooped down and turned it over. It was one of the security guards,his neck sliced. Traw set him back down and returned to Aveer, whowas waiting in the doorway. “Moore, where are you?” Traw askedover the communication link.

Static answered.

“Sanchez, where are you guys?” he asked again, hisvoice a bit more urgent.

Again, there was nothing.

“This isn't good,” Aveer commented, hopping down tothe track below. “We should walk ahead and look for them.”

“Agreed,” Traw replied, sliding his hand along therailing as he leapt down. They noticed a crackling orange glow ahead,and he had a good idea of what it was.

With light legs he sprinted ahead, approaching the bendin the tunnel. Flickering bulbs sent down rays of pale light brieflyonto him. He turned the curved corner and beheld the engine car inflames, with its fuel cells being licked by encroaching streams offire. “Traw!” a familiar voice shouted nearby. Traw scannedabout, motioning for Aveer to join him. “Who's there?” he asked.

“It's Moore!” the voice answered. “We're underthe third car. Get here, quick!”

Traw looked at the third car, and saw a glimpse ofhuman forms beneath it. He shuffled up to the car, and Moore shimmiedhis way out from beneath it. Traw noticed a few char marks and dentsin Moore's armor. “That engine's gonna blow any second, so getunder here with us.”

“Why didn't you turn around and go back?” Trawasked, pointing back to the point from whence he came.

“The insurgents attacked us while you were gone,”Sanchez added, crawling out from his cover. “Dozens of 'em. Wecouldn't turn back. Now get in here. I don't wanna be grilled.”

Deciding to save the rest of his questions for later,Traw crawled under the car with Madame Donovan and the remainder ofher security team. As Aveer shimmied his way under the car andscraping his suit along the hot Martian rocks, Traw wondered,“Where's the captain?”

“He went with the engine,” Sanchez answered,gesturing toward the engine car. Traw nodded solemnly in reply.

Traw slipped the pistol into its holster. Any moment,he knew, there would be a massive explosion. He wasn't even sure ifhe or any of his companions would survive. Muffled through thefilters in his helmet, Traw heard Madame Donovan weeping out of fear.

A powerful wave of unrelenting flame rushed through thetunnel, littered with particles of searing shrapnel. From the enginecells, the blast tore apart the car directly behind it and shatteredthe one behind that. The car under which they sought refuge waspartially eaten by flame and the corrosive teeth of fuel alight.

As the explosion raged through the tunnel outside oftheir cramped shelter, Aveer used his armored body as a shield,spreading himself out across the thin gap underneath the car. Trawcrawled up beside him, feeling the heat through his suit. Trawclenched his teeth and thought of his home. In a fit of desperation,he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to transport himself back to thefarm.

At last he found himself at home, at peace. He couldfeel every sensation of his homestead, even how his daughter's smoothhand felt against his hairy, dust-infested arm and how his wife'shair felt matted against his stubble-covered upper neck. “Traw,”a voice shouted, interrupting his paradise. “Traw!” Traw snappedhimself back to reality. He was in a cave on a distant planet, with acompany of people he disliked and a mission he wished he had neverbeen assigned.

A hand was extended to him in the darkness, and hegrabbed it. Traw picked himself up from underneath the rail car. Therest of his team and Donovan's company had already crawled out. Hehad evidently been in his mental paradise for longer than hereckoned. Sanchez brushed the dirt and embers off Traw's breastplateafter helping him up.

“Let's get movin',” Moore suggested, checking hisshotgun to make sure it was still functional. He aimed at a clearplace on the side of the rail car and fired a pepper shot. A smallcircle of buckshots punched through the metal wall.

“What are you doing, you daft punk!” Madame Donovanscolded, grabbing Moore by the arm. “Those are highly valuablepossessions in there! I've already lost enough in that dreadfulfire!”

Moore turned about and slapped her with an armoredhand, sending her to the hot, rocky ground. This time her securityguards unholstered their guns and aimed them at him. They seemed todo so out of duty, not defense. “I don't flip shit about yourprecious junk in there!” Moore snarled, taking off his helmet. “Soshut the hell up and just follow us if you plan on living. If youthink we're a bunch of saints for helpin' you, you couldn't be morewrong. I'm a rapist. Sanchez is a street thug. Traw's a murderer.Aveer over there's done some stuff he doesn't even wanna talk about.The only decent fellow on our team is in the infirmary right now withbusted ribs. Ya see? Don't think for a second that we're helpin' youout of the goodness in our hearts, 'cause that isn't what's goin' onhere. We're doin' this for a paycheck, plain and simple.”

Donovan struggled to pick herself back up. With a boldair, she took a step forward at Moore and stuck her finger in hisface. “You are a demon,” she declared, regaining her breath fromthe blow she was dealt.

“Tell me somethin' I don't know,” Moore quipped,squinting his eyes. Traw watched him. He was not at all disturbed bywhat she had said. He had no remorse. It was almost as if he enjoyedthe insult she dealt him, like it was a confirmation of his status.“We're movin' out. Fatty over here can choose to follow us if shewants, or she can obsess over all her precious dolls and trinkets,then get shot by those same bastards who set the land mines on thistrack. But I ain't gonna get blown to dust for her.” Moore fittedhis helmet back on and knocked the side of it with his fist. He beganto walk down the long, wide path alight with an array of embers.

One by one the other members of the Death Squadfollowed him, each of them passing Madame Donovan. She was tornbetween rage and fear. Never had she been treated with such brutalityand bluntness. Since birth she had been treated with a high level ofgrace and temperance, always receiving exactly what she desired andexactly when she desired it. She had blown through four husbands, amyriad of beaus, and had accumulated over seventy million kaoris inassets.

The Death Squad marched through the long, dark tunnelfor some twenty minutes before Madame Donovan and her company hadcaught up with them. “Wait, wait, I beg you!” she pleaded,hurrying up with all her pathetic strength. Moore and the othersturned about. Traw was half relieved to see her because he wouldn'tmiss his paycheck, but also irritated to see her return for reasonsthat go without saying.

As soon as she assured she was well within speakingdistance, she continued, “I have rethought our disagreement. I willjoin you, but only for my own welfare.”

Moore rolled his eyes. “Great. Keep walking,” hereplied with an air of nonchalance. It was like he was only receivingconfirmation for something he expected would happen.

“But won't we rest for ten minutes?” sheinterceded.

“No, we're gonna keep walking,” Moore argued,making it clear he was not going to be moved on the subject. “Oncewe make it out of this tunnel, maybe we can take a break. Thoseinsurgents sure as hell won't stop anytime soon. Keep walking, all ofyou.”

It was a long hour of walking, accented with Donovan'scomplaints and overly loud panting. Traw noticed the tunnel wasgrowing a bit lighter. The air was a bit less clouded with smoke fromthe explosion. “Any of you fellas notice we haven't run in withthose Umbragites, or insurgents, or...whoever they are yet?” Trawmentioned. His tone was that of a dark realization.

“Yeah,” Aveer noted, adding his piece, “maybethey're retreating.”

“That ain't happenin',” Sanchez corrected, a brieflaugh slipping out. “I'd bet my chips that they're gatherin' foranother attack. Maybe a trap at the end. Maybe they've been a stepbehind us the whole time, I dunno. Either way, we just gotta make itout alive.”

“You would not be wise to leave me unattended, shouldan ambush arise,” Madame Donovan mentioned, her voice echoing withgreat magnitude.

“Yeah, we'll get on it,” Traw replied dismissively.

They marched onward, the air growing less foul and thedarkness lightening a slight degree with each passing minute. Theirpace was constant, but tense. Though they had been walking for sometwo hours without ambush or attack, Traw was still on edge. Histrigger finger itched.

His breathing was rapid, while everyone else was fairlycalm with the passage of time. “Traw, you alright?” Sanchezasked, clapping Traw on the shoulder. “You didn't seem all thatwith it back there under the car.”

Traw tensed up for a moment at the contact. “Yeah,I'm fine,” he nodded, settling back into reality. “Thanks.”

“Death Squad for life, man,” Sanchez grinned.

When they emerged from the tunnel, the sun was on theverge of decline. Its orange rays beamed across the sky with aplethora of warm colors. “We gotta start a fire or somethin',”Moore remarked, looking around at the open space. “I don't knowwhat the climate's like here. But I don't wanna be caught off guardby the cold.”

“What about the insurgents? They'll see us,” MadameDonovan interceded, eagerly sitting down on a large rock.

“As if they won't already,” Aveer muttered. He sethis massive gun down against a boulder and rolled his shoulders. Helet out a relaxed moan and sat down on the rock. With a fresh breathhe took off his helmet, letting his dreadlocks hang free.

“Breathe that fresh air, man,” Moore remarked,taking off his helmet. He turned it about and looked at the long,broad visor. “I think I'm gonna carve somethin' on this. Like warpaint.”

Three of the security guards searched about on theground for some small rocks, then brought them together in a ringwhere everyone else sat. One of the other ones pulled a device offhis belt and before tossing it at the center of the ring, pressed abutton on the side. A few seconds later, the device burst into alarge, thick flame and the rest of the security guards huddled closeby it. They unbuttoned their jackets and slipped off their caps.

“Did I say you could undress?” Madame Donovansnapped, pointing to the security guard company. They lookedsheepishly at the ground with almost a collective mind. Traw noticedtheir movements were almost singular, like different appendages of amachine.

Moore barked, “They've been doin' a hell of a lotmore work than you. I think they deserve to loosen up a bit.”

Madame Donovan bit her bottom lip, clenching her fists.“I've had just about enough of you people, especially you,” shesnapped, shaking her rigid finger in Moore's face. “I'm the mostimportant person here, and that's a fact you should all face. Ishould be calling the orders. Animals like you should fall into yourplace. Who put you in charge of this...this death squad, anyways? Idon't see any markings of authority on your armor.”

Moore stood still, looking her in the eyes throughsquinted lids. A sinister, smug grin spread across Moore's face asTraw rose from his seat. Traw had a few ideas whirring about in hishead as to what he would say in reply. Something had to be done. Hestood next to Moore, and Donovan lowered her accusatory finger. Herintense gaze turned to Traw.

“Shut up and sit down,” he ordered, putting a firmhand on her shoulder. It just rested there, ready to inflict somekind of pain, should he want to do so. “Look at me,” he told herin a calm but formidable voice. She glanced toward the rocky ground,swallowing hard. “Look at me.” His voice was more tense andcommanding. Donovan looked up at him with a look in her eyes Traw hadnever seen. She looked into his eyes like a brave prisoner facingexecution.

“You're gonna sit down on that rock and you ain'tgonna speak another word unless we tell you to. Us four are in chargenow. Our orders are to make sure you get to the destination in onepiece. Not cater to you like those servants you abuse. That clear?”

She nodded, clenching her jaw. Then she turned aboutand sat down on the rock with a timid obedience. The security guardslooked over at her, somewhat confused. She was always the one dealingorders, not taking them. “We're in charge now, boys,” Sancheztold them, taking a few steps forward. “You take orders from us,not her. We tell you what to do. Raise your hand if you understand.”

Each security guard raised his hand immediately. Trawnoticed again the singularity of their movements; it was almosttroubling. “Good,” Sanchez grinned, fitting his helmet back on.“I'll be asleep if any of you need me. Dreamin' of hot girls andcold drinks.”

Moore pulled his knife out of his sheath, examining it.He looked down at the helmet sitting beside him on one of theboulders. Setting the knife down, he picked up the helmet, looking atthe long, broad visor that encompassed almost the entire front partof the helmet. The chrome visor allowed no one to see inside yetallowed him to see outside without hindrance. He picked up his knifeonce more and set the helmet on one of his knees. With a determinednature, he began etching something into the helmet's visor with thetip of the blade.

Traw laid back onto the ground, his muscles relaxingstrand by strand. He let out a faint groan of both relaxation andaching. The sniper rifle was in one hand, and the back of his headwas resting in the other.

Heclosed his eyes and breathed deeply, though he could not sleep. Hisblood was running too hard. Maybe backon the ship I can get some good rest, hethought, already aching at the thought of another sleepless nightfollowed by a long day of hiking and likely battle.

He heard the wind rolling over the red, arid Martianplains. It was harsh, even when it hardly rolled through the mountainpasses and between the dusty boulders. In a way, Traw was reminded ofSino, his home planet. Mars was similar, yet it always had anunforgiving, infertile ambiance. One would never replace a shrub orstalk on the Martian surface, whereas Sino had foliage here andthere.

Traw's thoughts drifted to Clayton, and where the manwas at that point in time. From what Vault had told them, Claytonwould be fully recovered at that point. Then again, Traw reckoned,information passed along in the GAM was never to be trusted. Plansalways changed. Facts became fiction. What was once taboo becamestandard protocol with a hidden sweep down the chain of command.

After what he thought was an hour of lying still on theground, Traw rose from the bed of rocks and dust, stretching his soreback. He was glad to have never broken a rib or an arm in the eventsof the past few hours. The fire in the ring of rocks was still alightwith the same enthusiasm. He slung his sniper rifle across his back.That was the last thing he wanted to lose. He gazed out at the longstretch of tracks, their destination nowhere in sight. “It's gonnabe a long day,” he told himself in a low whisper, so as to not wakeanyone who was asleep. They had received a luxury he did not want tospoil.

“You like it?” Moore's voice interrupted Traw'sdrifting thoughts. Traw turned around, overcoming the brief startle.

“Do I like what?” Traw clarified.

“The helmet,” Moore answered, then tossed Traw hishelmet. Moore slipped his knife back into its sheath and clipped itshut. Traw examined the helmet tossed to him. The visor had twosinister-looking slit eyes etched deep into the glossy chrome finish.Traw smirked, then tossed it back to Moore. “I can still see finein it. Adds that little touch of intimidation.”

Traw let out a low chuckle. Then he heard a sound notfar in the direction of the tunnel mouth. It sounded like rocks onthe ground being disturbed from their rest. Moore flipped his shotgunout and turned on his headlamp. “Let's go check it out,” hemuttered, sliding down the side of the boulder. Traw pulled out hispistol and walked up alongside Moore, who was slowly advancing towardthe source of the sound.

“Think we should wake the others?” Traw asked,scanning the area. It seemed clear, but he was wary of trustingappearances.

“Nah,” shrugged Moore. “If there's trouble, oneof my shotgun blasts should wake 'em up real easy.”

From the wafting darkness came a chaotic wave ofbullets, a few of which found their places denting against the armorof Moore and Traw. “Aw hell,” Moore grunted, returning fire andrushing headlong into the direction from whence the bullets came.Traw sneered and fired back, having no idea where he was shooting orif he hit any of his targets. Some ten seconds later, Aveer wasstanding firm on the hard ground and unleashing a storm of thickrounds, with Sanchez flanking round the side and letting loose agenerous spray of bullets.

It soon became apparent to Traw that the enemies, whomhe assumed to be insurgents, were backing into the mouth of thetunnel from whence they had attacked. He stepped over three corpsessimilar to the ones he had seen in the train cars. Backed by foursecurity guards, they pressed the surviving enemies into thesmoke-filled tunnel. “Get gone, you bastards!” Traw hollered tothe tune of sprinting footsteps growing more distant. He fired off acouple more shots, in the thrill of the moment.

His gunfire-induced thrill was interrupted by MadameDonovan's helpless cry back at the home base. “Goddammit,”Sanchez grumbled, running back. A small dropship hovered twenty feetabove the ground, the campfire blown out by the punishing windswirled about by dual rotors. Four security guards lay strewn on theground, their bullet wounds fresh. An unconscious Madame Donovan wasbeing pulled up by a wire harness, and two insurgent soldiers stoodat the ground, guarding the dropship.

Traw unclipped his rifle and expertly shot down bothguards from where he stood. Aveer opened fire on the cockpit, thebullets making mere dings in the window. Moore and Sanchez sprintedtoward the dropship, though Moore never gave any thought as to why hewas so concerned with Donovan's welfare all of a sudden.

Two dark figures stood in the bay of the dropship, oneof them aiding the winch in pulling up their unconscious captive.Traw adjusted his sights and focused on the one who was pulling upthe cable. He was interrupted by two shots at his feet from behind,which made him jump from the startle. He turned about, only to facemore gunfire, to which he responded in kind. Then a storm of bulletsfrom Aveer finished the task at hand. Traw gave a thumbs up, thenrushed back to where the dropship was hovering.

Moore leapt up and gripped the cable, shimmying his wayupward to the open bay. The two insurgents shot at him with furiousdesperation, but he climbed up and threw them off the edge in rapidsuccession. Sanchez took out his knife and sliced the cable, makingsure his unconscious client fell to the ground with ease. The twodowned insurgents were greeted to the Martian surface with equal leadfillings, courtesy of Sanchez' automatic pistols.

One dead pilot later, Moore landed the dropship to thesurface and the men regrouped. There were three security guards left.Although bruised and dusty, they seemed relatively hardy in spirit.Sitting in the small bay of the landed dropship with the rest of themen, Aveer asked, “How are we going to get to the destination?”

“I could fly this thing,” Moore suggested in allhonesty. He patted the hull of the bulky ship, glancing it overfondly.

Sanchez chuckled, shaking his head. “You landed itfrom twenty feet in the air. That doesn't mean you could fly it allthe way to the checkpoint.”

“Watch me,” Moore grinned. “It's this or walkingfor another couple days with Madame Donovan.” He gestured over toDonovan, who was asleep against one of the boulders. “Your choice,boys.”

“Then dropship it is,” Traw decided. “At least,I'll be taking this. Y'all can go ahead and do as you please.”

“What're you boys thinkin'?” Moore wondered,pointing to the remaining security guards.

They hesitated, as if gathering their collectivethought. One of them spoke up, “We will go wherever you go.”

“That's settled, then,” Moore concluded. “We'retakin' the dropship. Get the Madame in here. We're haulin' out.”

Ten minutes later, the dropship was airborne andsailing parallel to the train track. Traw felt safer in the air forsome reason he could not quite explain. As he looked out the circularlittle window he felt as if he had passed some challenge or danger,even despite the lack of steadiness in Moore's piloting. The dawn sunbegan to rise, stretching its little wisps of orange fingers into thedark sky.

Traw glanced over at the three guards. He noted a bitof apprehensiveness in their mannerisms: some quick breathing here, atapping finger there. “You boys alright?” he asked, partially tolet them know he noticed something was on their minds, should it bemalicious.

“Of course,” one of them blurted, forcing a briefsmile. Traw nodded, pretending he believed the guard.

“I see the checkpoint in the distance. We should bethere in a half hour or so,” Moore notified over the speakers inthe rear bay where the rest of the men sat, along with MadameDonovan. Traw was thankful Moore broke the tension.

“Kinda ironic, huh? All that stuff back on thetrain,” Sanchez remarked, looking at the still asleep Donovan.

“What do you mean?” Aveer wondered.

“Well, the captain mentioned she stood for a lot ofideas like givin' back to the poor, taxing the rich, all that stuff.And she's sittin' on fat stacks of kaoris, with this train full ofantiques and dresses and that kinda shit. Why don't she cough up someof this trash if she really stands for taxin' the rich?”

Traw grinned, realizing the truth in what Sanchez hadsaid. “You got a point,” Traw conceded, raising his eyebrows andnodding slowly. “Hypocrites come in all shapes and sizes.”

“All too true,” Aveer concurred.

“You got some experience with that?” Traw wondered.

“Not worth speaking of.”

“I'm not one to pry, so I'll leave that be,” Trawdismissed. From his own experience, he knew to respect a man'sprivacy. With a discreet glance he looked over at the three guards.Two of them had their hands resting on the exposed parts of theirguns, sitting in their holsters. The other one was sending nervous,darting glances toward the Death Squad.

Traw hesitated to say anything, his blood becoming moreand more tense. Something was up: what exactly, he wasn't certain. Helooked over at Aveer, who was equally on edge. They could both sensesomething was wrong: the storm had not yet passed. “You can takeyour hands off your guns,” Aveer reminded. “We're in the airnow.” He pretended to play dumb.

One of them sprung from his seat and grabbed MadameDonovan, placing his gun to her forehead. She was fully awake at thatpoint. “What the blazes are you doing?” she exclaimed, strugglingto break free, but without any result.

“Captain Polaris of the Umbragites,” he stated,ignoring her cry. The other two guards surrounded them, aiming theirpistols at the Death Squad. “Reporting for extraction.” Heappeared to be speaking into an earpiece.

Though no one else could hear it, he nodded and seemedto be receiving a response. One of the other guards hit a switch onthe wall, and the bay door opened, hot air blowing into the cabin.“It's been fine working with you, gentlemen,” Captain Polarisshouted over the sound of rushing wind. “But I'm afraid this iswhere we bid you farewell!”

Moore shut the bay doors from the cockpit and overrodethe order. One of the guards tried pressing the switch again, butMoore was in control. Captain Polaris looked Traw in the eye with ascowl that could have curdled milk. Traw felt the trigger of hispistol in its holster. “Try it out,” Polaris grinned, noticingthe movement of Traw's hand.

Traw knew he could take the shot, but Madame Donovanwould only be put in further jeopardy. One wrong move, and themission became a failure. Suddenly, Moore tipped the ship and swervedto the side, shaking everyone in the rear bay. Traw pulled out hispistol and shot down one of the guards, prompting the other one toopen fire at the Death Squad. Sanchez tackled him, sending him ontothe hard metal floor. Polaris, steady on the floor, pressed the coldbarrel of his gun harder into Madame Donovan's head and commanded,“Stand down or your paycheck is forfeit!”

The three squad members looked at one another,realizing the need to drop their weapons. “Ah, I speak in alanguage you finally understand,” Polaris mocked. “If there's onething I learned from my time in the GAM, it's that everyone there islooking out for himself. Camaraderie in those ranks is a myth, likethe planet earth.”

Suddenly, the cockpit opened, interrupting Polaris.Moore turned round the corner of the cockpit doorway and shot Polarissquare in the forehead. The captain's body dropped, then tumbled offthe side of the hatch door. Moore set a smoking insurgent rifle inthe co-pilot's seat and descended the short flight of stairs into thebay.

Traw heaved one of the corpses over his shoulder andtossed it out the open hatch. “I suggest you do the same,” hemuttered to Aveer and Sanchez. They each picked up a body andjettisoned it from the dropship. Moore clapped Madame Donovan on theshoulder. Her makeup was smudged, making her face a strange mixbetween beauty and filth. There were countless tears and singe marksin her dress.

“Not every day you get held at gunpoint, huh,”Moore smirked. She shook her head, her eyes wide and her breathingheavy. Traw noticed her hands shaking in her lap. “Funny how allthat wealth you've built up can all go away, in just one motion of afinger. All that gold, all those antiques, all those dresses, allthat reputation, all that position...bang. It's gone. There'd be anice, fancy funeral with a bunch of big-wigs, but in a hundred years,you're gone. One bullet. One wound. One death.”

Traw almost felt bad for her. She seemed genuinelyfrightened. Such trauma was evidently new for her, and Traw wasn'tsurprised. A life of wealth and pampering would never haveopportunity for a life-threatening situation such as the one she justendured. For a moment he considered speaking up on her behalf. Moorecontinued with his monologue describing the futility of herhypothetical demise, in a cruel tone that he seemed to savor. Trawreckoned that Moore wasn't particularly intelligent, but he had atongue that could shatter any man's morale.

“I gotta get back to piloting this rickety deathtrap. We'll be back soon. Just...don't trust anyone,” Mooreconcluded, grinning. He bade her a smug wink on the way back to thecabin. Madame Donovan's face was frozen in a state of trauma, herhands shaking beyond her conscious control.

Ishould say somethin' to her. What happened to her wasn't right, Trawreckoned in his own mind. But she's asnob. She deserves it. Those high and mighty folk could use someroughin' up from time to time. It'll do her some good.

Without any further turbulence, the dropship landed onone of the helipads of the checkpoint. It belonged to a small basewhich included a railway station, three helipads, and a small relaystation all in one compound building. Out of an elevator door came aplatoon of Marines, their rifles aimed at the descending dropship.They grew tenser as the hatch door opened, a few of them almostopening fire immediately.

“Thisis Corporal Trepp of the 77thBattalion!” a voice shouted over a bullhorn. “You are ordered tosurrender immediately, with no weapons on your persons! I repeat, youare ordered to surrender immediately with no weapons on yourpersons!”

Traw stepped out of the hatch door, with Madame Donovana couple steps in front of him. Corporal Trepp stepped up to Traw,after a pair of medics rushed up to Donovan and assisted her inside.“Do explain how you acquired an insurgent dropship,” Treppordered, gesturing up to the hull of the ship. “It's not often youreplace the poster boys of the GAM freely exiting an enemy ship.”

“Things got hairy,” Moore explained, stepping upbeside Traw. “Couple explosions, a downed train. With thoseinsurgent bastards peckin' at our skulls, we had to improvise.”

“And that involved using their ship to get heresafely,” Traw added.

“My god,” Trepp remarked, his hands on his hips,“you really are mavericks. What happened to the insurgents?”

“Out in the desert. You'll replace some corpses,”Aveer answered. He pointed out in the direction from whence theycame.

Sanchez concluded, “And make sure Madame Donovan getsshut up.”