Gunship - The Series

by John Davis

  “Fuck you buddy, the brown coat stays!” Dalton said with pride filled anger.

  “Mmm...toasty.” Adam replied in mocking fashion, unzipping his thick coat a bit as if to purposely let cold air in.

  “Everybody wants to be a comedian all of the sudden.” Dalton said bitterly as he took a quick shot of rock whiskey from a small metal flask, petting Whiskey who gazed at the rest of the crew with the saddest of looks in his eyes.

  Although Adam continued to chuckle a bit, deep down he knew the humor was a mere cover for the strangling emotions inside of him. His heart, his very soul missed Sarah Blaine so badly. The same heart and soul that knew deep down Sarah was gone, and had started to fall for Sasha. As the Benzan shuttle slowly began to lift from the ground and climb into the heavens, Adam's eyes remained locked onto the cloud of snow that the thrusters had formed below them. He wondered if Sarah ever bothered her own thoughts with him, or had she moved on, making Adam nothing more than a disposable afterthought?

  Space travel had a way of forcing you to think about things that otherwise stayed buried deep inside. It was for this very reason that Adam dreaded their upcoming journey to Arch City, though it was long overdue. Roman had stayed behind so that Adam, Sasha and Dalton could escape. Adam Michaels was a man of his word, and now it was time to make good on a promise to free his good friend. Adam tried to focus his attention to that, although the memory of Sarah remained in the shadows of his every waking moment.

  “What's on your mind?” Sasha asked nearly an hour after their shuttle hit orbit.

  “Nothing much,” Adam replied, breaking from his concentrated thought for a moment. “Just thinking about everything, it's been a crazy year for me.” he added.

  “Believe it or not, I understand. There was a point in time in my own life when I had given up on the idea of true happiness.” Sasha said.

  “Really? What happened?” Adam asked.

  “You came along.” Sasha replied. Though it would have sounded like the perfect line coming from a smooth talker, Adam knew she was sincere. He could see it all over her face.

  “Does he always do that?” Sasha asked, breaking the awkward silence between them.

  “Always do what? Snore?” Adam asked, turning to Dalton.

  “No, I've heard people snore before. That's not what he's doing. In fact, I'm not sure what he's doing.” Sasha replied as they watched the scruff painted Dalton sleep at the rear of the shuttle. It was a mixture of snoring and mumbling, a bit of laughing thrown in as well.

  “Wondering what he's dreaming about?” Adam asked.

  “Oh my God!” Sasha said loudly, but in a whispered voice as Dalton reached down to adjust his man tool while still sleeping, grabbing his crotch area roughly.

  “Congrats.” Adam said, patting Sasha on the back softly.

  “Congrats for what?” she replied.

  “You are pretty much the only attractive woman he has seen for some time, so my guess is he's dreaming about you.” Adam replied.

  “Oh my God!” Sasha said again as Dalton mumbled in his sleep and readjusted his crotch a second time.

  “Wait. So you're saying I'm attractive?” Sasha asked with a smile on her face.

  “I'm sure you know the answer to that. Must have hundreds of guys telling you that you're attractive each day.” Adam replied.

  “I'm not worry about hundreds of other guys, just Adam Michaels,” Sasha said playfully. “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Well ma'am, I think you are very attractive,” Adam said. “In fact, I can't see a single feature on you that I would even think of changing.” he added.

  “Oh really?” Sasha replied.

  “Yes really,” Adam said. “In fact, I would lay you down right now and make passionate love to you if Dalton wasn't awake and smiling at us.” Adam whispered into her ear. Sasha, who longed for Adam's touch, quickly turned to see Dalton sitting upright and smiling back at her.

  “Oh my God!” she said as Adam began to laugh.

  “Well a damn fine hello to you too.” Dalton said snidely.

  They were heading for Arch City, and that was a good thing. It meant they were heading away from the Hunters who were arriving to their own destination with a single purpose.

  Eliminate the Benzan race once and for all. As the five Hunter shuttles broke from deep space and into low orbit, the Vampiric beasts prepared themselves, double checking both weapon loadouts and armor fittings. Normally, the Hunters feared no man. However, the battle to come was different. Meeting the Benzans on their own home soil meant fighting a race of men who would defend their families with barbaric passion.

  Their assurance of victory was the accompanying Hunter Elite soldiers. The knights in solid black armor calmly sat at the rear of each spacecraft, almost as if the flight itself were the only burden to them. In just a very short time they would be involved in a small scale battle of flesh shedding and soul reaping. Still they sat there. So calm that they almost looked lethargic. But when the dying began, every Hunter knew the elites would in fact move and cleave with unnatural speed.

  They had expected to hold the element of surprise, however, as the Hunters descended from the clouds they began to make out figures in the thick of the falling snow. The Benzans were waiting, poised by the heat of large bonfires as they waited in a spread open field that was flat and ripe for the planting of severed limbs.

  “Land there,” Vladris said to his shuttle's pilot, pointing to a large area less than a half mile from the Benzan's current position. “We will meet them on their own fields and soak them with the blood of cowards.” the elite added, his strangely deep, almost demonic voice enough to rattle any normal man.

  “Yes Vladris, at once.” the pilot replied as the convoy of Hunter shuttles diverted its path into the direction of its new destination.

  “Prepare yourselves, for tonight we feast of the blood of beasts!” Kraid yelled as nearly two hundred Benzans began to shout loudly, every single on of them well armed. With the blistering cold of snow consuming most of their vision, the Benzans remained near the bonfires for warmth and in close quarter as they awaited their adversaries.

  As they looked through the thick snowfall at one another, it was a very sobering moment for most. Many would fall in the battle soon to be, and every man knew it to be the truth deep down. Though they believed they were more skilled with both gun and blade, the Hunters were not to be taken lightly. Many of the men had wives, children even. Kraid had sent them into the deep terrain of the mountains, their chosen fall back spot in the event of a battle so dangerous. Nearly fourty wives and children under the escort of only five Benzan warriors, it was simply all Kraid could spare. The women possessed every needed survival skill and the five warriors sent as escort were his absolute finest. While it pained him to not include the five skilled warriors in the battle to come, he knew the others would fight harder knowing their families were well protected. Kraid was a reaver of both man and demon, having sent more Hunters to the grave than any other Benzan still breathing. Even so, his heart thumped with both adrenaline and nerves, knowing damn good and well the vampiric bastards would sent their best, and that was sure to include elites.

  The first sign of the fight to come was the glimpse of what appeared to be two hell hounds that could be seen through the curtain of white snow. Moments later, the Benzans realized the Hunters were in full charge as they rapidly approached, swords drawn and eyes locked in.

  “They come!” one of the Benzans yelled frantically as they all prepared for the stinging of steel, cold and yells of death. The exceptional speed of the Hunters allowed them to match the hell hounds in full sprint, stride for stride.

  “Wait. Wait,” Kraid yelled to calm his men, assuring they remained close together. “We must fight as one group. Do not let them intimidate you, for today they face the most skilled killers in the Skyla System!” Kraid added, pulling his broadsword, its edge gleaming a bit from the reflection of the diamond like snow that consume
d them.

  The thunder of feet and yells of barbaric and demonic fashion seemed to quiet for a moment, at least in the mind of Kraid who held his broadsword as he drew his gold plated pistol, firing a single shot which hit a Hunter directly between the eyes; his horned helmet had been split in two as blood poured from the skull of the filthy beast, quickly saturating the spongy white snow that would soon become a crimson river.

  Using his free hand, the Benzan leader immediately thrust his sword down, striking one of the hell hounds at the top of its skull and driving the instantly dead beast into the frozen tundra. The second hell hound stopped in mid stride, realizing the Benzans were not the usual buffet of ease.

  “Fight!” Kraid yelled as within a single instant, the field was filled with hundreds of Benzans and nearly a hundred Hunters, blades exchanging viciousness as the screams and gunshots could be heard for miles in the otherwise calm of falling snow.

  “You alright?” Lassiter asked as Tigon Twelve continued its full burn, the twin thrusters providing a trailing path of flame.

  “I wouldn't wish this on anyone,” Sarah said, sitting in her seat and looking out across the landscape of stars. “The worst part of feeling this way is knowing that I did it to myself. I just want to go back and leave with him, do things right.” she added.

  “You can't go back,” Lassiter said, slowly taking a seat beside her. “So many times I think the same way, wishing I could go back to the day Kelly was murdered, go with her and perhaps prevent it all from happening. Deep down I know it wouldn't matter. It was her time to go.” Lassiter said.

  “Strangely, this isn't helping much.” Sarah said, laughing a bit. “Oh, I'm not saying anything has happened to Adam. My gut tells me otherwise. If there is anything we know about him, it's that he's a survivor. I'm sure he's fine.” Lassier replied.

  “I hope so,” Sarah replied in a much more serious tone. “If anything has happened to him...anything.” she added, turning to look out of the window of the shuttle once more. “I wouldn't be able to live with myself.” Sarah added. Lassiter was at a loss for words, instead placing his hand on Sarah's shoulder for a moment before standing to his feet and checking on the Colonial soldiers who had made the trip with them.

  They were a grit filled bunch to say the least. The much larger Husk sitting to the front of the group, outfitted in thick armor plating they remained solemn.

  “Everyone alright?” Lassiter asked as he made his way slowly by each seat to the rear of the shuttle. The Husk simply answered with slight nods, quickly returning their attention to the windows which overlooked the stars.

  “Hoping the Benzans are reasonable so we may return to the fight quickly.” one of the Colonial outfitted soldiers remarked.

  “I understand, but the Legion will fall in due time. As for the Benzans, I wouldn't expect too much reasoning from them.” Lassiter replied softly, Sarah overhearing his words.

  “And if you're right sir? If the Benzans are not willing to allow us an audience with Adam?” the soldier replied.

  “We're not going for the opportunity to speak with him. We're going to get him. Sarah has suffered enough, and we will either be allowed to speak with Adam or we will use force to complete the mission.” Lassiter said, leaning in a bit toward his men. “When we arrive, you men will remain with Sarah while the Husk and Goliath units accompany me. I will state our demands and be reasonable in doing so. If they are unwilling, we will use force until they become willing.” Lassiter added, turning to Sarah who was staring out of the window.

  I care too much for her to see her suffer like this. Lassiter thought as he watched Sarah for several long moments. His heart still longed for the soothing touch of Kelly, and having held her lifeless body in his arms had been devastating.

  Through his own suffering, Sarah had been there. She saw to it that his heart healed enough to move forward. Now it was time to return the favor. She was a good woman, amazing actually. Everyone made mistakes, Lassiter knew that. It was Sarah's open admission of guilt for letting Adam walk away that made Lassiter understand how amazing she truly was.

  Several times Lassiter had avoided her because he felt something more, feelings he shouldn't have. They scared the hell out of him, and rather than put Sarah through even more, he wanted to remain her friend. At least for now. Sarah turned to see her best friend watching her as she smiled softly back to him for caring.

  “Face the wall prisoner Raines!” one of the two prison guards said sternly as Roman slowly stood and faced the wall of his cell.

  He was the only resident, his former cellmate having been put into protective lockup following their one sided melee. Roman was new to the prison life, at least aboard this ship, and his cellmate saw that as an opportunity to prey on the former terrorist. Simple plans of taking Roman's share of food, but stupid plans nonetheless. His cellmate quickly discovered that Roman Raines is intimidated by no man, nearly crippling him before the guards could rush in and stop the carnage. Roman was slapped an even tougher sentence after beating two of the rescuing guards profusely as well, prompting them to treat him with extreme caution from that day forward.

  It was also the first day Zane began to notice him, his effectiveness during the scuffle was exactly what was needed to put together a decent plan of escape. While every prisoner respected Zane and answered to him in some fashion, none could be trusted enough to maim and possibly even kill interfering guards when the time came. Zane saw it in Roman's eyes the day of the melee, and knew from that moment forward that not only was he capable of killing if needed, but there was a good possibility he had done so in his past.

  “You move an inch and I'll paint this fucking wall with your brain matter!” one of the guards said loudly, holding a riot style shotgun directly to the back of Roman's skull.

  Meanwhile, two more guards tossed his cell, throwing what little possessions were inside onto the steel deck of the ship and kicking them out of the eight foot by six foot space. The cell was down to nothing more than the steel sleeping rack which was tightly bolted to the wall. They were given no mattress, and there was no toilet to speak of. They were led down the hall at gunpoint for five minutes every day to the latrine, and that was their one and only time to dispose of human waste outside of their cell floor.

  “Still hadn't figured out what you guys look for?” Roman said laughingly, his face nearly touching the wall as the guards continued their toss of the cell.

  “What the fuck do you think we're looking for? Weapons and contraband.” the guard holding him at gunpoint replied.

  “Come on, you've read my rap sheet, do you think I need a weapon?” Roman said. “You can read, right?” he added. “Shut up!” the guard yelled.

  “Yea, I can read. Got to be honest, for such a high profile catch you sure don't look like much to me!” the guard added loudly as his friends finished tossing the cell, laughing at the guard's remark.

  “Don't let the bad shave and dirty clothes fool you. If I wanted you guys dead you'd be dead already,” Roman replied with a grin. “Don't worry though. I like you. You remind me of someone I once knew.” he added before feeling the barrel of a weapon pressing hard against his neck.

  “I told you to shut up.” the guard replied sternly, reminding Roman of the pecking order while opening a small flask of rock whiskey with his free hand and sneaking a small swig. Roman continued to face the wall, although the smell of the rock whiskey soon brought a smile to his face. It was almost like being back home with the Gunship crew.

  “Alright move!” the guard said firmly, holding his gun on Roman as the three guards led him down the hall slowly, making their way into the mess hall to join a handful of previously escorted prisoners.

  It had been one of the most violent battles in recent history for both races as body upon body fell lifelessly to the blood drenched ground, a crimson river making its way through the deep drifts of snow as if to become a permanent fixture. The Benzans had all but fallen, only a handful remaining and re
treating back into the direction of the lodge, trying to move defensively while avoiding the tripping hazard of dead flesh. Two dozen Hunters remained, including three of the mighty elites. Their accompanying hell hound feasted on severed flesh, still warm as the snow fell while the remaining Hunters collected themselves. The rest had fallen in battle as a result of the Benzan's concentration of force onto them, taking heavy losses from the standard Hunters in doing so.

  Kraid, who now stood covered in a mixture of blood, both freshly wet and dried, ordered the remaining warriors to seal the doors of the lodge if only to give them a moment to breathe.

  The Benzans had been defeated, over confidence their achilles heel as they each prepared to die with honor while taking as many of the cannibalistic Hunters down with them as possible. Rather than rush in to slaughter the remaining five Benzans, the Hunters backed away a bit, giving Vladris a moment. The mighty Hunter Elite stood tall, red plasma dripping heavily from his blade as he ran his fingers across the bitter cold steel, placing them into his mouth to taste the spoils of victory.

  Bending down onto a knee, Vladris ran his hand calmly across the back of his hell hound, which had taken the lives of a couple of Benzans on its own. He slowly rolled his neck, the sound of moving tendons and small bones popping as he prepared for the final showdown.

  “My brothers. If we fall today, know that your families are safely hidden in the mountains and that you died as heroes.” Kraid said, doing his best to catch a deep breath as the chilled air worked against him. The remaining Benzans were covered in shades of blood and exhausted from swinging iron to flesh, yet they dug deep for the final fight to come. Thousands of wooden splinters filled the air of the room as the Hunters finally burst the lodge door open by force, knocking one side from its hinges.

  Holding his mythical sword of silver and severed flesh out in front of him, Vladris pointed it into the direction of Kraid, blood oozing down the blade and dripping steadily onto the grain finish of the wooden floor. Though he realized he was going to die, win or lose, Kraid stepped forward with his broadsword tightly clasped into one hand and his gold plated pistol gripped and positioned near his side. They exchanged a deep stare, the fluid red pupils of Vladris locking with the determined brown eyes of Kraid. Though they fought under different banners, they were both warriors and each knew that one of them would fall today. They were prepared to go with honor and this was their way of once and for all proving which bloodline was the more dominant.