Wolves
Discomfiture

“I'm almost glad I was put into the infirmary,”Clayton remarked. He sat on the edge of one of the medical beds,dressed in a plain garb. The other four men stood around him in thequiet medical bay. They were in the recovery area which, to Clayton'speace, none of the Marines were in as well. “She sounds like a realgem. Do you think all her guards were in on it?”

“Don't know,” Traw shrugged. “Don't think so.Most of 'em died at that point, directly by insurgents. I'm prettysure it was just those three aboard the dropship with us.”

“Let's just watch our backs next time then?”Clayton grinned. It was half meant as a joke.

Twelve walked into the room, his hands folded behindhis back. “You're all wanted in the Captain's office for a meeting,except Mr. Clayton, for he needs his rest.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” Clayton muttered, slippingoff the edge of the bed. “I need to get up and walk about. I've hadplenty of rest. Believe me, I helped design a few of these machines.I know what they did for me. The last thing I need is more rest.”

As they were walking through the hallway, led byTwelve, Sanchez inquired, “Clayton, what exactly did you do, man? Ithought you built gears and junk like that.”

“I designed and built mechanisms for IRO's researchstation on my home planet,” Clayton answered, comfortable back inhis regular jumpsuit. “And that included medical equipment. Guns,tanks, elevators, engines, drones, appliances: I had a part indesigning and/or building probably...fifteen percent of the equipmenton this vessel.”

“And you got paid pretty nicely, I'd guess?” Mooreinferred, making a motion with his hands as if he was flippingthrough a stack of paper bills.

“You would guess,” Clayton muttered. “People likemyself are easily taken advantage of for our skills. You see thatcook over there?” He pointed to a cook hanging up his apron as theypassed through the dining hall. “I probably made the same as him.He flips burgers. I designed the machine he flips them on, along withhalf of the other appliances and tech in that room. We made the samewage. Does that seem right to you?”

“Good point,” Traw muttered. Clayton seemed a bitpeppier than usual. Traw figured he had more than a few medicalsteroids running through his recovering system.

Theyarrived at Vault's office, the steel door opening with its ominousmechanical presence. The Captain stood in the center of the office,rather than in his chair as he usually did when he summoned the DeathSquad for a meeting. He dismissed Twelve with a brief gesture, andthe five men entered. The door shutting behind them, Vault began, “Ihave two matters to address. Firstly, and to your relief I'm sure,Agent Dart departed from the Indefatigablewhile youwere down on the surface of Mars. He only left me a message statinghe had imperative business at Neptune he had to attend to.”

“Did it seem like he was gonna arrest any of us?”Sanchez asked, tapping his fingers with his arms crossed. The squadstood in a semicircle opposite of Vault.

“I know as much as any of you. Inquisitors aren'tknown to be the most revealing type. Also, I have an evacuation planfor you if things do go...southward. It'll send you off the grid withenough supplies to survive for a couple of months on any one of thenearby planets. At least until I can pull some strings and get youdeclared innocent back on Neptune.”

“You almost sound like you're counting on it,” Trawremarked, his brow furrowed.

“I hope for the best but prepare for the worst, Mr.Traw. Second order of business: shortly before you returned aboard,Venko issued another mission. Traw, you may like this one. It's onyour home planet, Sino. Apparently there's been a rebellion andfrequent riots in City 9. Your orders are to...keep the peace.”

“Do the Umbragites got a hand in any of this?”Moore wondered.

“Not from what it looks like. Their involvement issporadic, hit-and-run tactics. Nothing of this scale. Besides, theriots are because the people want to see less GAM presence when theywalk down the street; the Umbragites have no such agenda, nor any atall, from what we've seen.”

Aveer remained still, his burly arms crossed and hiseyes squinted with suspicion. “What is the second point?” heinquired.

Vault bit the inside of his lip for a moment, like hewas about to retract the third point. “Your contract's been cutshort. After this mission, you'll get paid and go home to yourfamilies.”

Moore grinned and laughed. “I'm gonna buy a hundredwhores and get a beast mansion on the beach.” He pulled out hispalm tree necklace, staring at its golden lines. “Paradise, here Icome.” Sanchez and Moore fist bumped.

Sanchez licked his lips, looking to the ceiling andsmiling wide. “I'll join you, man. Get a nice boat and take itsailin'. Then drop by your place and test out a few of them whores.”

Vault was uneasy, not by what the two men weresuggesting, but something else entirely. Traw noticed and mentioned,“Anything else up?”

Captain Vault paused a moment. “This is something I'mjust theorizing, so don't take it totally to heart. But when Venkosent me the message, something wasn't right. It was like his lipswere saying one thing, but his eyes were saying another. I don't knowif that makes any sense to you. Here...” Vault brought up therecorded message on his datapad. “Watch.”

Yes,the Death Squad will have a two-day leave and be granted access totheir families again and be paid their full amount. That is correct,Venko's calmvoice uttered. Traw watched intently, alongside Aveer and Clayton.Vault was right. There was something afoot.

“I've never trusted that man,” Traw muttered. “Thisjust makes me wanna punch his teeth in even more.”

“I'd be cautious of where you say that,” Vaultmentioned, glancing up at the security camera lurking in the topcorner of the office. “Anyway, proceed as if you never saw this.The last thing we need is to inform him that we know something'safoot. You three understand?” Sanchez and Moore had already left,cackling to one another about what they would do with theirpaychecks.

“Of course,” Clayton replied. “I replace itinteresting how what you people say and what you people actuallyexecute is so different. When I signed onto this squad, I was underthe impression that I would be serving for two years. But now I'veserved for eight months and my job is apparently through. I know noneof these changes in the plan come from you, but I replace thisorganization unreliable nonetheless. But regardless, when do we leavefor our last mission?”

“Once we arrive at Sino. That should be a couple ofdays' trip. Get some rest. Train up. The last thing you want is to becaught off guard just before you get your paycheck.”

The third bashed practice dummy was lifted away by amechanical arm in the training room. Moore stood dripping with sweat,swinging the kukri in his hand. “Come on, Farley,” he muttered asthe fourth dummy was lowered from its gantry. “Let's go, sucker.You and me.”

Traw stood leaning against a pillar, as he usually didwhen watching Moore. The dummy switched on and took a defensivestance immediately. Moore dropped the knife to the floor and raisedhis weary fists. The dummy threw two side hooks, both of which wereblocked, followed by Moore dealing a hard kick to the dummy's rightknee. It stumbled backwards, then rushed headlong at Moore, knockinghim to the ground. The dummy got on top of him and started landingpunches at Moore's face. Traw took a step forward, wondering if theviolence restrictions were engaged in the dummy's software.

Moore grabbed the dummy's leg and flipped it off him,then turned about and grabbed its skull. “No you don't. Not thistime,” he growled, reaching into the cold mouth of his mechanicalopponent. He tore harder and harder at the skull, the dummy throwingpunches at his side in furious protest. Moore didn't care. It was asif he didn't feel the punches at all. In one deciding roar, he liftedthe artificial skull and ripped the jaw off and pounded the dummy tothe floor with a fist like thunder.

He fell to his knees, his mouth bleeding. With a limphand Moore felt his rows of teeth. They were all intact, by somemiracle. “You still haven't told me who Farley is,” Trawcommented. “You must hate him an awful lot to name your practicedummies after him. How many of those've you gone through? 50? 70?100?”

“117,” Moore surrendered an answer. Small puddlesof sweat began to gather on the platform where he knelt.

“That's real specific.”

“I got a real specific enemy,” he replied,descending the short staircase and reaching for the water bottlesitting on the nearby table. He reached over and grabbed his kukri,sliding it over onto the table. There was blood on the grip.

“And that would be..?” Traw stood at the other endof the table, casually examining one of the throwing knives.

“It's none of your concern,” Moore dismissed,dabbing his face with a wet towel.

“If this comes up in combat, and there's a goodchance it will, I'd like to know beforehand. Seems like you'rehellbent on beatin' the shit outta this Farley guy. I just wanna knowwhy.”

“You wanna know why?” Moore replied, his voiceraised. “You really wanna know why? Old friend of the family,thought I could trust him. Looked up to him. Everybody did. 13 yearsold, found out the hard way that he was a predator. And I keptreplacein' out until the day he died. The only fantasies I ever had,the only things I ever dreamed of...was rippin' that maggot apart.Four years, four long years, I wanted nothin' more than to turnaround one of those times and stick a blade down his throat. Feel himbleed and beg for mercy. All I wanted was to say no.”

Traw paused. He was taken back, but not enough to giveup his investigation. “How'd he die?” Traw wondered.

Moore laughed, accented by a grimace. “Heart attack.I remember the funeral he had. Everybody was cryin'...including me.But they were all cryin' because he was gone. I was just sheddin'tears because I never got to live out my dream. So there's youranswer, Sebastian. Farley was my predator. I just imagine his face onevery one of these mechanical bastards. It makes life a littleeasier.”

“I'm sorry, man,” Traw apologized.

Moore smirked. “Don't be,” he corrected. “Yousee...every time Farley took advantage of me, I just got angrier andangrier inside. Before any of that, I was the laughing stock of anycircle of friends. I got beat up. I got spat on. After a while, thatlittle boy grew up into a man. A big man. I mean, Farley was alwaysstronger than me. But at school and in the hood, people learned notto mess with me real fast. That's how I got to where I am. By thetime I graduated, no one ever double-crossed me or jumped me.”Moore took another swig from his water bottle. “Now you know I'mnot an asshole without reason. See you around, Traw.”

At the table during mealtime, Traw nudged Clayton theshoulder, who was sitting next to him. “What're you gonna do withyour paycheck? Retire?” Traw wondered.

Clayton gathered his thoughts. “I have something toarrange for my brother, Thomas,” he replied. “He hassome...special needs. Hopefully I can arrange a good home for himwith medical treatment. And what I'll do with the rest of the money,I'm not entirely sure as of yet. I might buy an apartment on Neptuneand open a penthouse studio. I've always wanted one.”

“How 'bout you, strong-but-silent?” Moore asked,jabbing at Aveer playfully.

“My village needs work. The paycheck can help them,”he answered plainly, scraping up the last bits of food into a smallpile.

“I might do the same, now that I think 'bout it,”Sanchez added, placing his hand against his chin. “My hood coulduse some work. I'd give 'em a new park, maybe a school, maybe a..”

“Man, get that boat and them whores. If you got cashafter that, then yeah, do your...saint-y things,” Mooreinterrupted. He was almost offended. Sanchez looked down at hisplate, somewhat ashamed. Nobody asked Traw.

That night, Traw sat in his bunk, with muscles thatdidn't ache as much as a soldier's usually do. He held the delicatephoto of Louise and Luella, looking up at it with weary longing. “I'mcomin', gals,” he muttered. “Just hold on tight.” He kissed hisindex finger and pressed it to each of their faces.

He felt his throat getting tight, and placed the photoback in its place on his wall. Traw drew a deep breath. “One lastmission,” he told himself, resting his tired lids. “Then it'shomeward bound.”