hungry wolves

Another day on Palidiar:


Caban swung back into cover, falling back against the wall to reload. Shoulder to shoulder again. He is too jubilant for firefights, though I know he takes it seriously. The only way to deal with the threat of death is through blind happiness. Ice empties her guns into her opponents silently, like an avenging spirit. I prefer a grim face, it is the face of survival. And my captain, laughing gleefully, making my own lips curve despite themselves. Looking back, that fact scares me only slightly less than the bullets.
He told me to cover him so he could get over to Ice's position. Another sweaty smile flashed across his face as I popped back up above the barrier and began shooting, allowing him to scramble to Ice. The two of them opened fire as I ran to them as well. There was less return fire that time, we'd probably taken down a few. I hate to think of the other side, bleeding out together over there, dying for money or desparation. People just like us. I can't help but think that every time I fight Runners: they're just like me. It could just as easily be me, sometimes it has been.
We needed to rush past them to make it back to the ship, Caban locked eyes with us and nodded. We know what to do, but he leads us anyway. Ice nodded in return, brimming with danger. I took a deep breath before I ran, and spoke.

"The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee."

I love old battle poems, they fortify me. Give me rythym and precedence. They also remind me that humans have been fighting for centuries...wasting ourselves. I hate a waste of bullets, I hate more the waste of people.
The charge went well, bullets wailing past us as we sped to the ship and took it out again.
Caban looked at me, a look of confusion and wonder in his eyes. "Shakes, Scout, what was that?"
"Battle song. Picked up from somewhere."
"Well. It worked!" He grinned, humming with the energy of a successful deal, and clapped us both on our shoulders. I use the word 'successful' loosely...it is harder to unload so much refined ore without attracting unwanted attention. It was sloppy work, and we knew it, but the thought occured suddenly that we were for once very wealthy indeed.
Ice paused to reload her guns, not even onboard will she let her guard down.
"You haven't got the stomach for battle" she said.
"You've got enough for us all."
"We work better now than with Wilson."
"He's...it's something."

I forget sometimes that I am a murderer. I have nearly been killed, and to avoid it I have been the one doing the killing. All of us have blood to pay out. We're criminals, we steal fortunes and lives. Sometimes I wonder if it bothers anyone else. Does Ice care about the bodies she left behind? I know some who have convinced themselves it doesn't matter, others who are tortured by the very thought. I've had my hold full of death, but I don't stop gleaming down on this starry path of blood.