Gunship - The Series

by John Davis

  “I don't understand?” Adam admitted.

  “Adam, when you first showed up here my heart exploded,” Sarah replied. “I wanted to relive our love together,” she added. “But as I continued to think about it, I remembered the moment you left me for dead.”

  “I didn't know, Sarah.”

  “SILENCE! I've had enough of your excuses! I see the love you still have for Sasha on your face. I know that you left me behind because you loved her, and your love cost me everything.”

  Adam didn't reply. Simply offering a look of disappointment and regret.

  “Soon enough you will know my pain.” the queen sternly promised, turning to walk away under heavy escort. Adam following slowly behind as well, surrounded by armed soldiers among the vampire race.

  -

  “The explosions seem to be getting closer,” Skulls claimed. “A good sign we are losing the fight.”

  “And you're surprised?” Dalton asked, pausing to drink a healthy swig from an even healthier bottle of whiskey. “Been getting our asses kicked up one side and down another for the better part of a year now.”

  “I just meant we should consider readying ourselves quicker than we had planned.” Skulls admitted.

  “I was born ready son,” Dalton confessed. “I once had a watch with no hands.”

  “Huh?” Skulls asked, confused by the smuggler's statement.

  “In other words, it's always go time.”

  “I don't get it?” Skulls confessed.

  “Ah fuck, this is killing my buzz,” Dalton replied as his lover entered the shelter. “A watch, no hands...always go time. I'm always ready, no matter what time it is.”

  “That's hilarious.” Cambria admitted, laughing aloud as Dalton explained himself as though he were on trial.

  “Thank you. I worked hard on that.” the smuggler replied with a grin.

  “I still don't get it?” Skulls replied.

  “Fuck sakes man, you need to get out more often.” Dalton scolded, the taint of whiskey on his breath.

  “Now that, friend, I get.” Skulls replied, openly acknowledging the truth of Dalton's statement.

  It was at that moment, words rolling from his tongue, that a large explosion took place merely feet from their shelter; slamming into the thick crust of ground near the center of the fleet staging ground.

  “Holy shit!” Dalton yelled, rushing to the window as alarms sounded only dozens of feet from their shelter's door.

  “Told you they were getting closer,” Skulls said, turning to make sure both of his friends were unharmed. “Now what's that watch saying?”

  “Saying we need to get the hell out of here.” Dalton replied, forcing their door open as the scramble of desperation had already led hundreds of people outdoors.

  It was the sound of small arms fire, however, that drew Dalton's attention.

  “That's gunfire within the camp!”

  “You mean the horde has made it in?” Cambria asked with panic.

  “Not unless the dead sumbitches dyed their hair white and took a liking to leather trench coats.” he replied.

  “I don't understand?” Skulls replied.

  “Ah shit man.” Dalton nodded, preparing himself to explain in detail.

  “He means the Hunters are firing on colonials,” Cambria interjected, as if to bust up the smuggler's punchline. “Question is, which side are we on?”

  “The side that ain't notorious for feasting on human flesh,” Dalton replied. “Not to mention being a thorn in my fucking side.” he added, pushing his brown coat back a bit as his hand slowly pulled the heavy revolver to the ready.

  “I cannot believe this shit,” Skulls complained. “I get a winning lottery ticket and now I have to try and find a ship that's safe. People are falling dead all over a camp that's now overrun with vampires – and zombies are on the way. I do not feel like a fucking winner!”

  “Winners don't whine,” Dalton said with a grin, glancing back to the sniper. “They win.”

  “How are we supposed to do that?” Cambria asked, all three of them looking from the shelter door which remained cracked.

  “Just stay close,” Dalton responded, turning to smile at his lover. “In case I get the urge for some fine wine.”

  “I don't get it?” Skulls admitted.

  -

  “I can still remember seeing you burn away – your ship screaming into the ocean of stars. I felt helpless. I've lived with the loss every single night, knowing you'd never know my pain,” the queen said. “Now you will.”

  “Sarah, I don't know what you intend to do here, but Avery has nothing to do with this. You need to let him go and deal with me how you see fit.”

  “I am!” the queen shouted.

  The group had boarded a large hunter carrier, one of several that was being stocked for the fleet's voyage. At least that's what had been thought, though Adam knew immediately upon entering that it was being stocked for another reason altogether.

  War.

  “You've no intention of joining the fleet.” Adam stated.

  “We'll join them in the sky, if that's what you mean,” she replied as their group walked deeper into the heart of the large battleship. “Of course when we arrive my people will rip the colonial ships to shreds.”

  “Sarah, these people have done nothing to you!” Adam argued.

  “Nothing? These people have done nothing to me? For centuries the colonials have hunted my people down and systematically slaughtered them!”

  “The soldiers, maybe, but the people aboard those ships include a lot of innocent faces. Women and children that have no part in that!” Adam replied.

  “”Victims of war,” she replied without emotion. “Just as my father was.”

  “Your father was a good man,” Adam stated. “He would not have any part in this,” he added. “You're lost to him. To the world that matters. Do what you will to me, I'm done playing games. The Sarah I fell in love with is obviously gone and the, thing, that stands in front of me – I have no use for.”

  His words stung her to the bone. Sarah had promised to forget the pain he'd caused her once upon a time, and now he had gashed the wound back open completely.

  “You will remain in this room until I return. If you try to escape, my soldiers will gun you down. If I decide to take your words to heart, my soldiers will gun you down,” she replied. “If you value the sight of your son EVER again – you should pray I continue to feel for you long enough.”

  Adam gave no words; no plea. He simply walked into a small room by gunpoint – its door slamming shut and bolting from the outside.

  The walls seamless, the sheen of aluminum glaring around him with only a single chair inside. No windows. Nothing. Though it was evident that the ship's thrusters had begun to fire up to a burn.

  -

  “Dalton, we must keep moving.” Cambria pleaded, helping the distraught smuggler from the colonial star.

  “I cannot keep going. These people need help,” Dalton responded, his eyes having dried but his heart still gaping wide. “I can't live with leaving more innocent people behind to die.”

  “I understand,” Cambria agreed. “But one of those innocent people is Adam's son. We need to go get Avery and get him to safety.”

  “I know that,” Dalton admitted. “I just don't know if I can.” he added.

  “Dalton James, listen to me,” Cambria shouted, grabbing the man by his coat as gunfire rang out throughout their encampment. “I need you!”

  His soldiering began to kick in a bit, knowing deep down that if he could push such great loss aside, at least for the moment, it could save the lives of many. Including Sasha and Avery.

  “Alright,” he finally responded. “You've got Skulls' ticket. Now we have to get Adam's son and get to that ship before it leaves us on this damn rock. The rest we can figure out from the sky.”

  “And you?” she asked.

  “I've been a soldier most of my natural life. I know a lot of these guys
, and they respect what I've done for the old colonial blue. I'll be fine.”

  “Alright, well, we need to get this done quickly. The horde will be at our front door in only minutes, and that's if our own don't kill us first.” Cambria said.

  It was a scene of total chaos. Soldiers clad in blue gunning down the vampire nation, and vice versa. Brother against brother, race against race, as everyone seemed to be staking their claim for a spot in the exodus fleet.

  -

  “Samuel. Dirsin. Twylan. All great great warriors who have fallen by your sword.” Troy said,

  “What is this you speak of human?” Vladris asked with a demanding voice, though his answer came swiftly.

  The thrust of sword, its tip biting into the lower half of Vladris' torso and sending the mighty champion to a knee.

  “All of them great friends of mine,” Troy said with a grin, their small group of surviving soldiers feeling as though the end was approaching by way of chaos in their leadership “But none of them respected by me as was Roman Raines.”

  The remaining Hunters immediately went for their blades, though the firepower of colonial rifles soon tipped the scales. The humans and Orc-like warriors executing a plan of deception, and a well-executed plan at that.

  “They say you fight as though you are a wounded lion. So wounded lion, what do you think of your chances now?” Troy mocked.

  Reaching down with a grimace of pain across his face, lips curling from hurt around jagged teeth, Vladris slowly wrapped a hand around the gushing wound as it drained him of blood.

  “I would say you will fall just as your pathetic army did but moments ago.” Vladris replied, squeezing pale flesh together in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Extreme duration of pain his biggest hurdle.

  “Then you would be wrong,” Troy said with a chuckle. “Do you not see only a handful of vampires, each of them surrounded by Husk steel and colonial weaponry?”

  “I see only the coward spines of sheep. Such is the way of a lion.” Vladris replied, looking onto the Husk-raised man with eyes fueled of revenge.

  “Of course Vladris,” Troy said, snatching an ax from the air, tossed to him by a Husk ally and awaiting the wounded champion to pull his own sword. “I am up for the task of ending your legend. I will be the one who strikes you down.”

  “Perhaps,” Vladris replied, his face speaking of pain as he reached overhead to unsheathe his large sword, pulling flesh away from such a deep wound all the while. “Or perhaps you will fall just like the list of cowards you so easily name. All who thought they too were up to the task.”

  The Hunters had never seen their champion injured as badly, blood gushing from wound as though he were a stuck pig. Yet he circled a waiting human as though he were stalking.

  “Your overconfidence will be your demise champion.” Troy taunted, beginning a circle as well, readying himself for combat against the most legendary of foes.

  “My confidence is earned through battle, while yours is earned through the shouting of retreat.” Vladris stated, his words striking a nerve with the young man.

  With a commanding leap, Troy slammed down to the ground, his ax biting into the crust of planet only inches from Vladris. Though a bit slower than normal, the champion Hunter arced a glancing shot of sword toward the skilled warrior, who easily parried it away with the thick armor plating of his forearm.

  “Even wounded I expected better.” Troy said, chuckling a bit as he recovered his ax and readied it.

  “Yet you thrust steel into me from behind. Walking the path of a coward.” Vladris replied, beginning to feel the effects of a sword shot which would spell his demise.

  Wasting no additional time, Troy began hammering away by way of his ax, releasing swipe after swipe with the weapon which aimed for the Hunter champion with unrelenting power. At least by human standards.

  Vladris felt himself weakening, as he continued to parry the ax with defensive blade strikes, finally dropping to a knee once more. His only defense becoming one of desperation as the mighty champion held his blade above him in an attempt to absorb the striking ax.

  He had seen it before. Countless times. When he had an opponent beaten, their last defense before falling was the same.

  Vladris had no intentions of dying like a wailing pup, opting instead to throw his sword to the ground and let his body absorb the next swing of ax. Something that was worthy of his legend on the battlefield.

  For even the mightiest fall.

  “A final word before I end you?” Troy asked with a smile pasted to his face.

  “Yes,” Vladris nodded with defeat. “Almost.”

  Almost? Troy thought.

  Within the instant, Vladris had pulled a large dagger from his belt, carving into the boy's chest as the entire length of the foot-sized blade dug in. Troy immediately dropping his ax.

  “You almost ended the reign of Vladris,” the vampire said, slowly rising to his feet. “But not quite. That feat will one day be reserved for a true hero.”

  “Are you sure you can make the shot?” one of the colonials asked. Their ride bumpy to say the least.

  Dalton James didn't offer a verbal reply. Just a single shot from his revolver which hummed through the thick-air of several hundred feet before striking directly to the forehead of Vladris, shattering the contents inside.

  That's for Roman you son of a bitch.

  “That was one hell of a shot!” one of the soldiers announced, several more agreeing.

  “I have my days.” Dalton boasted proudly, though his revolver remained in-hand.

  He knew the very moment he fired his shot, which would become legendary by many eye-witness accounts; the love of his life was boarding a colonial star with Adam's babe in-hand, or so he thought.

  Dalton also knew that his shot, the single bullet which had turned the tide of civil war, had cemented his seat on the exodus fleet.

  He had Adam Michaels to thank. So many times before, Adam had forced him into practicing with a heavy revolver. Dalton could remember fighting it; even bitching about it more times than not. Still, he remembered Adam lecturing him on a man's sidearm being the most powerful piece of weaponry.

  Elegance among smugglers.

  All of these years he'd bitched. Growled about his shotguns and coveted the grenades. Yet his best friend, a man who had taught the smuggler so many things over the years, had preached the art of the revolver as if it were a religion.

  Dalton knew with certainty that Adam had played a big part in slaying the Hunter. A thought which brought a large smile to the brushy-faced man.

  -

  “We'll be there shortly, but it's going to be a bumpy ride from here on out.” the pilot warned, turning to deliver the warning to Dalton and crew.

  Bumpy?

  Before he could ask, however, Dalton began to see the horde. So many dead that they literally blacked out the ground below the shuttle with their bodies.

  “Holy shit.” Dalton admitted, laying witness to tens of thousands of warriors turned from the dead. All of them sprinting toward the colonial encampment.

  The shuttle rocked heavily – caused by one of many mortar strikes. The colonials were leaning on the explosive rounds; their attempt to thin out the coming horde as the exodus fleet began to launch.

  Just as the ground was blackened by the bodies of infected, the sky began to blacken with the shadows of ships lifting into the heavens.

  It had become a non-stop ride of turbulence, with mortar being strung together with desperation. Yet Dalton could gather his bearings well enough to see nearly a dozen colonial ships yet to launch.

  “The Legend of Stars is reporting engine malfunction!” the pilot yelled, taking a moment to point to the craft.

  It was mid-sized and reserved as the home for survivors of Alowin. A large planet of peaceful, yet tech dependent citizens.

  “At least four-thousand souls aboard that rig!” one of the soldiers yelled in response.

  “What of the God of War?”
Dalton asked.

  “The rest of 'em are reporting in with green lights. They're good to go. Just waiting for their shuttles to reel back in.” the pilot replied.

  Literally hundreds of shuttles, small choppers and merchant freighters made their way toward the large craft that were grounded and laying in wait.

  The Legend of Stars seemed the focal point, however, as dozens of engineers worked on its exterior. Each checking the guts of the ship in an attempt to fix it.

  “God of War this is Red Hound Fourteen, requesting landing grid position.” the pilot said, speaking into his helmet's mic.

  “We have you Red Hound 14, proceed to landing bay Seventy-One.”

  “Copy that.”

  -

  Upon landing, Dalton's first reaction was to head to the observation deck. He knew his lover was aboard, and that she no doubt cared for Adam's son. His concern was for those innocent lives aboard the Legend of Stars.

  It would seem the case for many others as well, Dalton discovered, as nearly a hundred had gathered on the observation deck to watch colonial engineers race against the coming horde.

  “Dalton,” Cambria said, her eyes filled with the truth of pain. “Dalton, they took Adam's son.”

  “Who?” he questioned, growling with anger. “What the fuck?” he demanded to know.

  “Sarah.”

  “I don't understand?” he questioned.

  “Sarah showed up with a group of armed soldiers. Took Avery right from my arms at gunpoint.”

  Standing for a moment – fighting the numbness that shivered through his extremities, Dalton searched for the reasoning. Searched for the motive.

  Oh hell no.

  “Someone get me on the damn horn with the commander – right now!” he yelled.

  With several of the survivors turning to stare at him with question, Dalton grabbed a nearby soldier by the front of his blue uniform.

  “I said get me on the horn with the commander. Otherwise, I'm gonna start cracking skulls.” he growled.

  “I can get him,” a soldier shouted across the large room filled with people. “What should I tell him?”