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

“Gally,” Ariel insisted.

“Ma, I gotta go.” The door would need more than all one hundred and thirty five pounds of her in order to move any faster.

“I know you do! You always do!” The words leapt from her mother’s mouth, as if she was paraphrasing a talk she’d been meaning to have for a long time. “You keep moving at that pace, and you’ll outrun everybody you ever meet!”

Gally finally stopped trying to force the door, not that it noticed. She froze and glanced at her mother, [her bottom lip hanging off before replying]. “The hell does that mean?” she asked, harshly.

A thick silence hung in the car as Ariel took a deep breath and chose her words carefully. “I mean,” she began, her hands rising before plopping on her lap, “when was the last time you did something for yourself?”

Gally closely resembled her father, and she was reminded of that often, especially by her mother when they argued. So, when her face fell the way it did, she expected the snide reminder, even waited for it. When it didn’t come, Gally responded. “I’m doing that right now,” she said before a flat, sarcastic tone took over. “Thanks for the ride.” She stepped out of the car and fumed toward the building. She’d made it the entire way up the steps before she heard the car door fully close again.

Gliding through the front door, Gally was forced to pause and swipe her ID at two security screens. She took the stairs to the third floor, wrongly thinking it would help her burn off some of the anger. After yet another security screen, she arrived at a labyrinth of dark blue cubicles. Without stopping, she weaved in and out of the quiet set of desks before arriving at a man in jeans and a T-shirt.

Leaning back in his chair, a takeout box on his lap, the man looked up from the sandwich in his hands to see Gally arrive at his cubicle in a huff. She came to a halt when she realized his monitors were black and locked. A late smile appeared on her face, making it obvious that being polite was an afterthought. She watched the man slowly lower his sandwich. “Hi,” he said, as one would when an attractive stranger runs into one’s workplace. He talked as if he hadn’t even noticed her barging in. “Can I help you?”

“Stewart, right?” she asked. He nodded expectantly. “I’m Gally.” This was met with a blank stare and an open mouth, so Gally reintroduced herself with the name on her email signature. Impatience slipped into her tone, as she remembered how her name appeared on her work email. “Galadriel Ramone?”

The man’s face lit up with the realization that she was one of his many bosses. “Ah!” he said, mildly. “Nice to finally put a face to the name.” He leaned forward and extended a hand, which was immediately retracted and wiped on his shirt. Gally lost count of how many times he’d wiped before finally shaking her outstretched hand. As slight as she was, her handshake was firm and well practiced. His shake lacked commitment, giving up halfway. “Didn’t think you worked on Saturdays.”

There was a slight pause in her reply, the kind that comes before a white lie. “Normally, I don’t. But I need a favor.”

“Sure, sure,” Stewart nodded, obligingly, as his hand was brought back. He glanced at his other hand and looked slightly befuddled that he was still holding the sandwich. He placed it back in the box on his desk with a thump, and sat up, brushing crumbs off his shirt. The monitor lit up as he sighed, contently. “Okay, what can I do for ya?”

“I need a transmission traced.” She slid a small data drive in front of him.

Stewart leaned forward and took it. Gally felt her eyes involuntarily widen as he examined it and then looked back at her. She knew he’d never been handed a drive for this type of information before. So while she stood there, burning in her skin, she tried to embody standard procedure as much as possible. After a shrug, he plugged the drive into his computer and typed with the handicap of someone looking over his shoulder.

Gally put an elbow on her wrist and resisted the urge to bite at her fingers.

After a long silence, Stewart finally said something. “Huh,” he mused.

She couldn’t make sense of the screen, so she was hoping he’d translate. When he didn’t immediately do so, she inquired. “What?”

“It’s from one of your sectors.” His next words came out like a slow groan, as he was still pinpointing while he spoke. “Close to Sabile.”

Gally blinked in confusion. “What the hell would they be doing all the way out there?”

“I don’t ask questions; I just read what I see.” Stewart leaned closer to the screen and squinted before popping back. “There’s an unopened transmission from that planet, if you want that too.”

She furrowed a brow, trying to think of who could be sending messages from a dead planet. Finally, it occurred to her. “From the research stations?”

He nodded as he scanned the screen. “P-Code: Alpha. From…” He paused and looked at a small novelty calendar on his desk. “…two days ago?!” His lips curled as he leaned back. They both knew the code was only used for life-threatening situations, and it going unread for two days was a hard discovery to make in front of one’s boss. “Ah, you know what it is?” He lightly slapped his desk. “That used to be Patrick’s division. We haven’t found his replacement yet.” He spun in his chair to face her. And while he wasn’t responsible for that region, he expected her to be disappointed.

Gally’s neck straightened as her body pretended to be as upset as her position warranted. Her mind, however, was elsewhere. While it was rather unusual for a secretary to visit the region they