Stars Gods Wolves by Dan Kirshtein (best classic books .txt) 📕

rifle with his one good eye. He wiggled, uncomfortable in his perch. It was a flat balcony with no railings: perfect for a sniper. Boomer was not a sniper.

Josie was stationed on the opposite side of the street, crouched above a doorway. She unhinged a knob from the side of her rifle—technically, the rifle was originally issued to Ox, but he never used it—before pushing it forward, and a bayonet extended from the rifle’s barrel. She didn’t use her scope, but she listened for them. The lieutenant had enough experience with snow-gliders to know when it was close. Her breathing quickened as she closed her eyes.

Nitro had the tough job in this protocol, a job normally reserved for himself and Ox: They would be taking the two remaining riders from the front. After all, this was their maneuver; it was only fair they get the hard job. Still, it wasn’t the same without him. As the riders approached, Nitro questioned whether this was the proper call. He couldn’t shake why he felt that way—perhaps he was just missing his partner—but it felt as if something was about to go wrong, as if fate was suddenly breathing down his neck.

Being this low, it was difficult to see too far out into the distance, but the tell-tale humming of the snow-gliders was all Josie needed. She felt the cold wind against her face, felt each frigid breath leave her lungs. After considerable waiting, she heard the glider reach her. Using one leg to push against the back of the building, she finally leapt when the time was right. She opened her eyes to see the glider directly below her. Its rider looked up at her too late.

With a war cry, Josie plunged her bayonet deep into the front of the glider, directly into the controls. The glider suddenly became a centrifuge, spinning in circles. It whipped toward a nearby building, and, despite Josie making great efforts to stay aboard, it quickly became clear that it was no longer safe to do so. After an initial tug, the rifle remained in the vehicle. Josie’s eyes widened, watching herself be flung closer and closer to a building. With a loud grunt, she made one last, large pull at the rifle.

It broke free, and Josie was thrown from the spinning vehicle at the last second as the whirling glider whipped its side directly into the ruins of a structure. The crash hadn’t killed the Eighth, but the resulting explosion certainly incapacitated it. Josie approached the wreck and noticed the rider trying to pry the remaining half of its body from the wreckage. She plugged a few rounds into it, point blank, and watched it collapse with a satisfying clunk.

Boomer had finally grown uncomfortable. Unable to fidget with a detonation tube in his current position, he’d let one foot wiggle behind him and listened to the scraping it made. It had helped pass the time, and the rider had finally come into sight. Clearing his throat and ceasing his wiggling foot, he resumed his prone, sniping stance. After a deep inhale, he held out the exhale and pulled the trigger, once. Through his scope, he watched the purple bolt travel through the gray snow. It actually hit the target. He yipped, impressed with himself.

A small smirk broke onto his face as he adjusted his positioning once again, wiggling his shoulders in satisfaction. He waited for the glider to get closer before firing again. The second shot was a miss, but the third felled the rider. Once it was dismounted, Boomer fired several shots more into the Eighth until it was smoking and unmoving. With a grunt and an approving nod, Boomer surmised that was enough.

Nitro cocked his head, seeing only one glider approach him. He had to ignore that something had to be wrong. He had to act like it wasn’t until he’d gotten confirmation. With a sneer, he began firing on his enemy as soon as it got close. The shots landed, but they didn’t stop his target. The sneer turned into an angry groan, and he leapt upon his rider, tackling it into the snow. The glider carried on for a short time before slowing to a halt, bumping into a nearby building. Wrestling with the driver, Nitro learned that they were not as easy to kill as he’d originally thought. The tackle quickly turned into a brawl. The Eighth swung a right arm up at the captain. It was a hard hit that turned into a hard push, flipping Nitro over his foe.

The landing nearly knocked the wind out of him, but he was able to follow his enemy with his rifle, landing several shots that ended the fight once he landed. With snow in his eyes, he quickly spun around to get a better view of his adversary before he confirmed it was dead. Panting, he wiped himself off before he spoke into the coms with a bloodied lip. “Purple Company. Report.” He was out of breath, but satisfied.

“One down.” Josie’s voice was as casual and calm as always.

“One down.” Boomer was heard as well.

Nitro glanced at his fallen foe, a growing concern on his face. He was supposed to have the hard job; one of them had to fight two. His jaw tightened, more out of fear than anger. “Say again?”

“One down,” they each repeated.

Nitro let out a long, growl of a curse before making a mad dash back to his kill’s glider. Only barely knowing the controls, he gunned it as fast as he could, back to the civilian caravan.

Further along, Gally walked with the doctors, Harper, Ula, and Mitch. They trudged through the snow at a pace that Harper had vaguely deemed ‘not too fast’, but fear urged them all along at a brisker pace than usual. And while Gally and Harper led them, she watched the pilot continually stick an arm out to slow the doctors who seemed to want to run.

She admired his forced serenity,