Stars Gods Wolves Dan Kirshtein (short novels to read txt) 📖

how much paperwork is involved in that? How much time that would cost us?” Her voice was raised, but not shouting.

Nitro shrugged and nodded, chiming in. “She’s actually right, doc. It’s kind of a bitch from what I’ve heard.”

Gally looked at the captain, who pursed his lips in response. Of all the people to come to her defense, he seemed the most unlikely. “That’s right.” The words came slowly at first, and she had trouble putting her focus back on Martin who shook his head, stepping back.

“I won’t do it.” His voice cracked, suddenly wishing he was back in his cell. “You think I’m some goddamn monster?” He stepped backward and plopped back down on the bench near the creature. “You think I enjoy this?! We were in a fucking war!” He threw one of his hands to the side, pointing at nothing.

Silence filled the room before Ox interjected calmly: “There must be other options.”

Words fell from Harper’s lips like rain off a statue. “Government emergency procedures.” He pulled the thoughts from the back of his mind. “When I was in the service, we were brought in because a government agent brought in proof of an emergency situation.”

Gally nodded, rubbing her eyes, trying to calm down. “Well then, can we prove these theories of yours, Doctor Collier?” She said it with respect, as if speaking to an entirely different person than earlier.

Martin froze as his mind raced. He looked at the body of the first specimen and frowned. He hated this; he hated the war, and hated his reputation. But he found solace in the result of the conversation—namely, he wouldn’t be the one to wipe out these creatures—and his voice reflected a glum resolution. “I would need another body or two. To prove it wasn’t just a fluke.”

Nitro grinned and clapped Gally on the shoulder. “And I can get you a great price on people who can provide you with that,” he chimed as she looked at him, trying very hard not to roll her eyes.

5

There’s this feeling that you get, when you’ve devoted your whole life to something—like athletes or, in my case, scientists.

To put it simply, nothing really surprises you in your field.

The most infuriating part about working with Martin Collier is that he proves that theory wrong.

You never know as little as when you work with that man.

He is impossibly brilliant. He would see things well before we would, and of course he’d never tell us.

Which, fine, you form a theory and want us to prove you wrong. That’s how science works.

But to work with him, it felt like the job we were hired for was a side project for him: some banal curiosity to pass the time.

And he’d get the work done well before we would, but he wouldn’t tell us. He’d wait for us to finish and then we’d compare notes. And he was right, every time. Every time.

Even then, we all called him an egotist: thinking he was too good for the bullshit jobs that every scientist has to take. But, looking back on it, I don’t see it like that anymore.

Because he could’ve just turned in his work, months ahead of time, and then we’d be out of a job. He didn’t need us, and him being there meant the company didn’t need us either. Looking back on it, I think he knew that, and was just trying to keep us employed.

And I try to go easy on him, because…

To be brilliant, to be that brilliant, it must’ve been incredibly lonely.

Dr. L. Aegis, Saga Corporation

Exit Interview

November 8, 2302

Sabile:Research Station 2

Harper couldn’t sleep that night; something persistent pulled at the back of his mind. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he was not the right man for this job anymore, that the galaxy-ending ramification of these hungry gents seemed more and more out of his area of expertise. Sure, the job paid well, but he was no galaxy-saver. Even during his time in the military, the closest thing to heroics he’d ever done was delivering organs to hospitals. Frankly, he considered himself underqualified, even if it was still technically a delivery run.

So he did what he always did when he couldn’t sleep: he tinkered. In the large landing bay of the research station, he carried a can of fuel to the Atticus and poured it in.

Against the gentle glugging of the fuel, a voice caught his attention. “Thought I’d find you here,” Gally nearly called out to him; her voice echoed so much that she didn’t have to speak very loudly.

He looked back, but only for a moment: he didn’t want her to see how happy he was to have company. And while his eyes were fixed on the fuel container, his mind, grateful for the change of pace, leapt to her as she reached the ship. They’d both changed out of their pajamas, and both pretended not to notice the other’s commitment to staying awake when they should be resting. She leaned on the hull and seemed content just watching him. They met eyes only once during refueling, and he noticed she also looked concerned.

Once the can was emptied, Gally watched Harper place it on the ground next to him and open the bay doors. He gestured for her to follow him, and she did. She noticed he avoided stepping in the spots that looked recently cleaned, and she tried to do the same. As she did so, she noticed the long trail where her vomit had been; she paused, unsure whether to thank him or apologize. The long, liquid-shaped spot smelled like chemicals, and the scrubbed-clean look made it stand out from the rest of the area.

Gally glanced up, noticing that he hadn’t said a word to her about cleaning it up. She didn’t see him do it, nor did she even see the cleaning supplies. The proof of her shame and inexperience had vanished as quickly as it had been made. And