Gunship - The Series

by John Davis

  Sarah laughed a bit, though her mind did begin to think of any possibility of a future with Adam.

  “All joking aside, you should tell him. Especially now that all face the certainty of death. No telling how many days we have left to make things right.” Troy remarked.

  She began to wonder what he had meant about certain death, knowing the exodus fleet was supposed to be their solution for survival.

  Aboard Colonial Star Triumph

  “I must admit Dalton James,” Commander Ortega remarked. “Your ability to survive time after time amazes me.”

  The commander sat behind a large military-grade desk in his personal chamber, reviewing a file of the brown coat laden survivor who sat directly in front of him.

  “Timing really. I can't take all of the credit.” Dalton replied, feeling a bit out of place.

  “Well, be that as it may, good timing seems to follow you,” the commander said. “Two major wars on Glimmeria, skirmishes with the Hunters and now this? Some would consider you to be a beacon of good luck.”

  Dalton thought of that statement. All of the near death encounters with Hunters. The hordes of zombies giving chase. He couldn't understand being a beacon of good luck, having always considered himself the exact opposite.

  “How would you feel about swearing in as a colonial soldier once more?” the commander asked.

  It was a right hook to Dalton's expectations, stumbling through a list of responses. He had expected to be given a steak dinner, slapped on the ass and dumped off at the next available planet. Not even remotely considering the possibility of enlisting once more.

  “Well sir, I haven't even given it thought to be honest. I haven't showered in a week, and just yesterday saw a lot of innocent people butchered by the undead. I just,” he replied, taking a moment to emotionally collect himself. “I just need a few moments to wind down and get past what I've seen. What I've lived through.”

  “I understand, and your concern for the innocent is both obvious and admirable. The exodus fleet will need people just like you if it is to survive. So you think on it Dalton James. I've signed off on fast-tracking you into the fleet,” Ortega said. “It's now a matter of paper that needs your signature.”

  “I don't understand?” Dalton asked.

  “It means your record speaks for itself. I'm deeming you too important to leave behind,” the commander said, grinning a bit. “And too lucky.” he added. “Now, go get some rest and sort your priorities out a bit. Then come back and let me know what you decide on becoming a colonial officer.”

  “Thank you.” Dalton replied.

  Officer? Just yesterday I was drinking the cheapest of hand me down whiskey? The good-fortune patterned smuggler thought.

  “May I ask you one question sir?” Dalton asked, standing to his feet.

  “Of course.” Ortega replied willingly.

  “I saw you on the com stating you were staying behind when the exodus leaves. Just want to know why?” he asked.

  “Well,” the commander began to reply, softly laying the Dalton's folder onto his desk. “I believe that if humanity is going to survive, it will need faith in its government,” he added. “It's in my own personal opinion that people will restore their faith in government if its leader sacrifices first.”

  “But there is no chance of survival if you stay behind. You must know that?” Dalton asked. “I've seen these things up close for far too long. There's no winning this one.”

  “Perhaps. But throughout history, people have fought against insurmountable odds a lot more willingly when doing so behind a leader who showed no fear. If I accompanied the exodus flight into the stars, those left behind would have no hope. Though it may be true that we have no chance of winning, if I remain here to lead a final stand, those who remain behind with me will at least have hope.”

  “Forgive me commander, but I don't understand the reasoning. It seems as though you would be of more service leaving and keeping the fleet in order.” Dalton admitted.

  “Think of those innocent faces you saw yesterday Dalton. Think of how they must have felt with no hope. Thinking of certain death before it came. By choosing to sacrifice my own life in staying behind, I save thousands of innocent faces that same fate. They may perish, but will do so with the hope of survival,” the commander said. “The sacrifice of self for the better of those in need is the mark of a true leader. Remember those words Dalton James.” Ortega added.

  “Thank you sir.” Dalton replied, nodding as he turned to exit the commander's quarters and return to the loving arms of a woman he was meant to be with.

  Ronica

  “I must admit Adam Michaels,” Sarah remarked as she approached the man under a perfect Ronican nightfall. “I never thought I'd see the system's most notorious smuggler comforting a child.

  “Yea,” he replied with a smile, holding his son close and walking through a small area of tall grass in order to sooth the infant. “Honestly though, it's what I have always wanted.”

  “A child?” Sarah asked, seeming a bit taken back by his confession.

  “A child. The calm a child brings. The innocence of the moment.” he replied.

  His words were true, and that was obvious to the queen of vampires. Many times she had looked into his eyes as a lover, but this moment was different. Sarah saw a spark of importance, as though he lived for a higher purpose.

  “When nothing else in life seems to be going right, I just hold my son. It's a temporary fix, I know, but when I have him in my arms the world just feels right.” Adam stated.

  “May I hold him?” Sarah asked.

  For anyone unfamiliar with their history, it would have seemed odd. Unheard of, even, for the queen of vampires to hold Adam's son.

  However their history was deeply intertwined. They had loved one another, and thought of the each other as their sole reason for living. Each had made mistakes along the way, and each had harbored both guilt and anger toward the other.

  But times were different. Adam had left Sarah standing alone, choosing another lover during a moment of extremes, and it had led her to the walk of a vampire. Likewise, Adam had suffered the loss of his lover, and both felt it was God's way of punishing him for his mistake.

  Both Adam and Sarah had matured beyond resentment. They had agreed, though unspoken, that the heart-wrenching mistakes of their past would remain in the past, while the good memories would remain.

  “Of course.” Adam replied, easing the baby over to the shoulders of such a mighty queen.

  Immediately, Sarah felt the calm. She understood how something as innocent and precious as a child could eliminate all else. The war, the hatred; all of it.

  Though she was now queen of vampires, there was still a piece of her that remained human. A small part of her that remembered her love for Adam and their dream of having a child together. Though Sarah realized it was a life that was no longer possible to her, the Hunter DNA to blame, still she felt comfort in knowing that Adam had found his peace.

  “He seems to take to you.” Adam remarked, surprised at Avery's snuggling to the queen of vampires.

  “And his father?” Sarah asked.

  “Well,” Adam began to reply, finding himself thrown into a very uneasy moment of conversation. “You must know I still have feelings for you Sarah?”

  “I do.” she replied with a smile.

  “I have only two things in this world that push me from the bed each morning. The need to keep my son safe and the belief that I can save you from all of this. I know there must be a way, I just haven't thought it through hard enough. There has to be something I'm missing, because my mind and heart are in so many different places right now.” Adam said.

  “I'm sorry, I did not mean to overstep.” she admitted.

  “No, please don't be,” Adam replied. “It's just,” he added, seeming to prepare for the worst. “I'm still not over Sasha. I'm truly not. Her death has taken its toll on me.”

  “I understand.” she replied.


  “No, you truly don't,” Adam said, his tone changing to one of desperation. “I love you.”

  His confession turned both lovers as quiet as the babe whom snuggled to her.

  “Sarah, I love you. I always have. When I left with Sasha, I did it because I was pissed off. I held a grudge against you for holding us at gunpoint, and I just couldn't let that go. You have to understand, I thought a few weeks would pass and you and I would have another showdown. I didn't know this was going to happen. Sasha was a good woman, she truly was. But you and I were meant to be together. We were supposed to end up together, and because of my stupidity, my bad judgment...we're not.”

  “I,” Sarah began to say, her emotions getting the best of her. “I'm not sure what to say?”

  “There's nothing you can say. Every single night I lay down and think of three things Sarah, three. My son, the mother who died to protect him and the woman I should have married. I love you to the pit of my soul and feel guilty because of it. I hate myself for leaving you there, but I love my son. I live every day in a prison that I created. This, all of this, is on me.”

  “It's not all on you Adam. We've both had a hand in this. I cannot help but think that perhaps fate has crossed our paths once more for a reason.” Sarah commented, handing the small child back to the arms that used to hold her so lovingly.

  “If we somehow make it through this...if we somehow survive,” Adam said. “I will make everything up to you. I will love you again.”

  Sarah responded to his promise with a warm smile, though no words were to follow. She walked away as silently as Vladris had stood, watching their conversation from a distance.

  Though the champion vampire felt sudden anger, Vladris also felt the truth in Adam's confession. He too had once loved, only to lose his lover in times of war. Vladris wanted to hate Adam Michaels, but also found a bit of common ground with the smuggler as his stare of concentration continued.

  Aboard Colonial Star Triumph

  “What's wrong?” Cambria asked, walking from her rack.

  “Just can't sleep, that's all.” Dalton replied, sitting at a small table near the cabin door, though he did so in the dark.

  “You should try. We land on Ronica within hours, you'll need your sleep,” she commented softly, placing a hand on Dalton's back in comforting fashion. “Our government was unorganized before all of this. You can imagine the hell we'll have to go through now.” she added, smiling wide.

  “You know, under any other circumstances, I'd be trying to bed you down right about now.” he said with a bit of a grin.

  “Well you wouldn't have to try all that hard I'm afraid,” Cambria replied, changing her voice to that of a pure-western girl. “It seems I've taken to this mysterious cowboy draped in brown and masked in whiskers.” she added, holding her hand to her forehead.

  As Dalton sat silently, Cambria's own demeanor changed to a more serious one.

  “Well, if my damsel in distress routine didn't get you it must be serious. What's going on?” she asked.

  “Been thinking a lot about those people we left behind yesterday. Their faces.”

  “Dalton, it is not your fault. Worlds full of people just like that have fallen all across the Skyla System. The Priests are to blame, not you. We had no choice.”

  “I was the one who had the experience among them. I should have stayed. Should have stayed behind to give those people hope – not left 'em to die with fear.”

  “You wouldn't have made it out alive. None of us would have.” she replied.

  “Maybe I wasn't supposed to.” Dalton said.

  “Don't talk like that. Not after I've fallen for you,” Cambria said, pausing to look deep into his eyes. “I've fallen for you Dalton James.”

  With her statement came a kiss. Followed soon after by a bonding of souls' only feet from the door that separated them from their resident sniper. All without the use of whiskey, which, perhaps, was a first for the man known as Dalton James.

  -

  “Wake up my friend,” Skulls pleaded, doing his best to usher the brown coated smuggler from a foggy world of dreams. “We're landing on Ronica.”

  “Damn,” Dalton was slow to acknowledge. “My head is splitting. Feel like I've been hit by a train. Almost like a hangover?”

  “Something like that.” Cambria replied, covertly eluding to their session of lovemaking.

  Of course, Skulls never caught on. He was quick to sway his eye to the scope and fetch a guaranteed kill, that much was a fact. However, his ability to catch onto an inside joke, or, in this case, an inside conversation – was lacking.

  “Hadn't felt this rough since I got hold of some tainted rock whiskey back on Phinamore.” Dalton said tauntingly.

  “Oh really?” Cambria said, playing along. “You sort of have the look of a long night of binge-drinking alright. Just seems like you've been laid up with the finest of liquor.”

  “Liquor? You mean hootch?” Dalton asked, his question changing her facial complexion drastically.

  “No, I mean liquor. As in fine wine. The kind that's been on the shelf for a mighty long time collecting dust. They say it gets better with age.” Cambria insisted.

  “Well, I'd say as a long time connoisseur...and I mean long...I'd have to admit that it seems like the wine that's been sitting so long is most likely the best I've ever had.” Dalton replied.

  “Most likely?” she asked.

  “What about you? Walking a bit rough this morning?” Dalton asked.

  “So am I, this space travel will do it.” Skulls added.

  “Wow, you too Skulls? I'm impressed. There are only so many hours in a single night?” Cambria asked playfully.

  “Oh hell no,” Dalton insisted. “There is a select list of consumable wines in my book. That's it, if you know what I'm saying?”

  “I do,” she replied, checking her pistol before snugging the oversized revolver into its hip-holster. “I just feel a little stiff, that's all. I need to get out and stretch my legs a bit. I need some exercise.”

  If Skulls wasn't here, I'd stretch your legs and give you some damn exercise. Dalton thought, though he did his best not to moisten his lips with the tip of his tongue. A habit he found hard to break.

  As Skulls prepared his own rifle, Dalton and Cambria continued to stare onto each other. It had been a long time since she'd felt this way about someone. In fact, it had been years. She'd once planned to marry the most notorious gunslinger in the Drifts, but it simply wasn't meant to be.

  Cambria had a thirst for the stars. A life filled with adventure beyond compare. Her then lover, Johnny, wanted a simple life. He'd always made the claim that he'd both live and die in the Drifts, and the gunslinger wasn't bluffing.

  He had chosen to stay behind. Chosen to do his best in waiting out the plague of men from the rocky cliffs of his home planet, doing so with a small gang of friends and co-criminals.

  Cambria was saddened by his decision, of course, but it was his to make. She would always have feelings for the man that remained behind, but love is what she had come to feel for Dalton. True love.

  She'd greatly misjudged the smuggler during their first meeting. He seemed as though he was old and broken down. Cambria soon learned, however, that he was quite the opposite. He was alive, and full of the kind of life she thirsted for. Adventure.

  He'd been a part of every major event during his lifetime. Every war, every skirmish. He'd ran with convicts, fought vampires, ran from zombies and even co-existed with the mighty Husk race for a short time.

  Most importantly, however, he had a good heart. She could see the hurt in him, a sign of compassion. Her time in the adventurous line of work, smuggling, had been short. Still, she felt safe around the man who reeked of cheap whiskey and cigar smoke.

  He was the closest to a cowboy as Cambria could have imagined. Tough, rugged, experienced, and behind closed doors, sensitive. There was a good man behind that rough patch of whiskers; an honorable man beneath that t
attered brown coat.

  “Fuck,” the honorable man shouted, seeming to break Cambria from her imaginative spell. “These fucking landings. Every single time, these landings.” he added loudly, grabbing a steel shelf which was bolted to the ship's wall, as the large vessel descended on Ronica.

  “Such language.” Cambria replied with a smile, bracing herself as well.

  “Hey, I got liquor or I got language. Right now, I'm fresh out of the good stuff.”

  As the ship began its harsh descent into the atmosphere of Ronica, forcing everyone aboard to brace themselves while hushing to a quiet calm, Dalton began to think.

  He'd been in so many ships; so many descents. Still, he remembered every single one. His early days during the first Glimmerian War, the smuggler counted nineteen drops altogether. Most had come after a Legion ass-whipping and colonial retreat.

  He also remembered the countless drops from space that he and his former crew had undergone. Most of them successful, while a few were...not so much.

  Dalton had successfully survived two crash landings under such conditions, and remembered the day he walked away from his first. Promising himself on that very day that his boots would never again touch the inside of a spaceship.

  Yet here he stood, leaned over and holding onto the frame of a door as if his life depended upon it.

  Stupid! You are one stupid son of a bitch!

  “Are you alright?” Cambria yelled with a smile, her lover having grown as quiet as a church mouse, though his thoughts would have scarred said church mouse for life.

  “Fine,” Dalton said, lying through his teeth in the process. “About to fall asleep actually.”

  As long as I live, my damn boots will never touch the inside of another ship. Not for this shit. He thought.

  Roncia

  Ships had been coming in for days on end, the sound of thrusters seemingly commonplace to those already assigned to Ronica. However, the larger colonial star ships were a different story. Earthquake loud and nearly large enough to blacken the sky, two traits that demanded everyone's full attention.