The Fleet

by John Davis

  “We've detected the humans assembling some type of mechanical space station near the area we first made contact.” the officer said.

  “Well. I think our best option would be to decimate their little project, which is no doubt a weapon of defense against us.” Ryalk replied.

  “My lord, we've also confirmed through imagery a small craft heading to a remote planet. Dispatched a short time ago. It was soon followed by a massive craft which fit our profile of a transport ship.”

  “And you think this ship may be leaving a trail to their most-concentrated home world?” Ryalk asked.

  “We are not sure, my lord, but we believe it to be. Our commanders wish to know their next assignment. Follow the ship full of rats back to their nest or destroy a possible weapons grid in the making?” the officer asked.

  “I see.” Ryalk replied.

  His decision would require a bit of thought. The humans posed almost no threat to the Viscion's superior weaponry, though the race among the stars did not know it for sure. They only suspected the humans to be inferior. Based on the composition of their fleet ships and battle rifles.

  His choice would set the tone for things to come, one way or the other. Either the Viscion would follow the transport ship to its destination in hopes of a large population, which, in their minds, translated to food. In doing so, they would allow the humans’ time to possibly complete a weapons platform.

  That said, should they take on the weapons platform to discover it merely protected a small military installation, the Viscion would waste resources and possibly extend their long search for a manageable food source.

  They had indeed found infected humans in great quantities, just as Dalton had promised. What the Viscion had also found, was that the infected were just that. Very sick. Nothing more than onion thin skin covering skeletal frames, and, in most cases, simply not worth the trouble. Their soldiers were putting in lots of time and effort with little reward as the infected had miniscule amounts of flesh ripe for the eating.

  “We cannot afford to let our food source get away,” Ryalk said. “Have our ships follow the transport, but do so at a distance. Once we know their destination, we'll converge on them and begin plucking cattle for our freezers,” he added. Pausing momentarily. “When the time comes, we'll deal with their weapons platform and any military trained – doing so with ease.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The officer turned to inform the fleet of their lord's decision. Meanwhile, Ryalk believed his confidence in their military was well placed. Their soldiers had been doing what the humans were unable to. Push back the infected.

  The hordes of dead had proven tough in battle, but the superior weaponry of the Viscion won out. Each battle ending with thousands of infected laying dead in smoldering piles with only a few hundred Viscion casualties.

  The race from among the stars died easily enough. No tougher than a human when it came to life or death. They did, however, enter battle inside of a standard issue combat suit, which featured both mechanical and crystal-powered abilities in combat. Making it a very effective tool of war.

  Ryalk smiled wide – brimming with arrogance.

  Very effective indeed.

  *

  “Going to be a bit rough on the landing,” the pilot said. “This wind is hitting like a hammer.”

  Oh shit. Dalton thought, remember both of his crash landing experiences and unwilling to relive either.

  The crew inside remained silent, though Cambria was a bit frantic when it came to facial expressions.

  The shuttle dipped a bit, but quickly regained control with a tug of the flight stick. Only a few hundred feet from the destination and flat ground awaiting them.

  “What the fuck is going on up there?” Dalton asked with a growl.

  The shuttle once again shifted roughly – though everyone's safety harnesses held tight.

  “It's storm season in the drifts, sir,” the pilot replied. “Cambria should have warned you.”

  Quickly snapping his head around, every soldier among them fearing for their life, Dalton glanced hard at his lover. Only to see Cambria laughing aloud.

  “Now who's the badass and who's the chicken shit?” she asked with an increased tone of laugh.

  Hers was followed by another, then another. Every soldier aboard the shuttle finally joining in after realizing the wind turbulence was normal for this time of year. They would indeed leave to see another day.

  “You gotta be shitting me,” Dalton said. “I thought we were all gonna die!”

  Reaching up to the smuggler's roughly bearded face, Cambria clinched his cheek for a moment.

  “Live a little.”

  And he would. Dalton couldn't remember a time when he was actually pissed off about the fact that he would live. It seemed ridiculous, but he'd been thrown into the mindset of kissing the ass he currently sat on – goodbye.

  “You've got to admit it was funny.” one of the large Husk said with a giggle of laughter.

  “I ain't gotta admit shit,” Dalton lashed back, though he'd began to calm down a bit. “Besides. You were scared too.”

  “Yes,” the Husk admitted. “Yes, I was.”

  As the shuttle slammed down onto the hard soil of the drift planet without warning, nearly throwing Dalton from his harness and irritating him further, the smuggler glanced back to the pilot's area.

  “I say...what the fuck is going on up there?” he cast off with a loud yell.

  “Sorry. That was me.” the pilot replied.

  Sorry my ass, I should pistol whip the shit out of you! I can fly this tin can smoother than this shit!

  Dalton's mind raced, though his mouth remained shut. Simply throwing an enduring stink eye into the direction of the pilot. Hoping to get out of the crew area before his temper got the best of him and it went to fist and cuff.

  “Same arrangement as before?” one of the large orc-like Husk asked.

  “Huh?” Dalton questioned. As if he'd lost all knowledge of what being a leader meant.

  “One group?”

  Dalton stepped off of the shuttle. Thick cowboy boots of brown matching the duster that rode his back like a cheap itch. Turning to offer a hand as Cambria eased down.

  “Two groups,” Dalton replied. “May'yok and Zilne, you're with Cambria and myself. The rest of you keep your asses parked and make sure this stringbean looking son of a bitch doesn't leave us stranded.” he added. Scowling at the shuttle's pilot in the process.

  “You got it.” one of the stationed Husk replied.

  Dalton had, in all of his battle-tested glory, picked May'yok and Zilne for a reason. The group had figured it was because of their massive stature. They were big son of a bitches, and if the group wanted to think it, Dalton let them.

  Truth be told, the smuggler knew they were a lot damn slower than either Cambria or himself. They'd be good to fight alongside, and just as good to outrun if a horde got to clip their duster tails.

  “We'll have to skirt around these mountains a bit and get close enough to see Geartown through a set of binoculars. If it looks like smooth sailing, we'll head in. If not, we'll get as close as we can and have a look-see.”

  The two hulking soldiers were armed with a standard issue battle rifle and, of course, the savage long-blade their race was famous for. Leading them out, Cambria followed behind. A combat pistol holstered to her side and ready, if needed. Finally, Dalton pulled up the rear.

  If anybody watches her ass there and back, it's gonna be me.

  *

  “Whiskey One this is The Lucky Lady,” a voice crackled over the radio of the shuttle. “We're in orbit above you and standing by until further instructions.”

  It took the group a moment, though the pilot immediately knew their plan was now in place.

  “Copy that Lucky Lady,” the pilot said, holding a com device which attached to their shuttles controls. A short cord feeding into the device. “Whiskey One, out.”

  The captain of the Lucky
Lady put his com down as well. Turning to face the co-pilot as they logged their positioning and awaited any and all extractions from the surface. Prepared to fill with any survivors and ferry them back to Second Glimmeria.

  “Think they'll round up any survivors?” the co-pilot asked.

  “Hard to say,” the pilot replied. “Either way, I don't see the point in flying out here to rescue anyone. These people wanted to live a basic lifestyle and now they're living it.”

  Both of the men behind the Lucky Lady's controls began to laugh a bit. A dozen Husk tucked away in bunks aboard the ship and sleeping very soundly.

  “Got something.” the co-pilot said, spinning toward his com station and immediately watching a blip which had appeared on his screen. Quickly turning to three.

  “What the hell?” the pilot asked.

  The three objects were closing fast and sparing no expense in doing so. The co-pilot hit the alarm code, punching his identification number in on a numeric touchscreen. It sounded a loud digital ringing throughout The Lucky Lady, while alerting the fleet ships.

  “This is the Lucky Lady hailing approaching aircraft. Please identify yourselves immediately.” the captain said. The ships now visible through the wide shatterproof windshield. “I say again. Identify yourselves immediately.”

  Their only response was a shot across the bow. Nearly throwing a direct hit onto the transport vessel, which had no way of fighting back.

  “Abandon ship, abandon ship,” the captain yelled loudly into the vessel's com system. “We are taking fire!”

  Nodding to his longtime friend, the co-pilot turned for a quick exit. No need for two men trained in flight to die aboard the Lucky Lady.

  To be a species of larger than life warriors, the Husk moved like fleet-footed rabbits when their own asses were on the line. Each of them scrambling to reach the reserve shuttle aboard the Lucky Lady – piercing shots of concentrated laser now striking the large, but unarmed, vessel.

  The first hard shot zinged through unannounced, ripping into the large transport and gaping a massive hole into the cargo area which began to vacuum supplies into the dark of space.

  Quickly followed by debris, and, sadly – bodies.

  The first husk immediately flew out of the open hole of damage as several more shots burst onto the large transport. Rendering it defenseless. Two husk has secured themselves inside, followed by the co-pilot, who gripped the doorway of the escape shuttle tightly. Firmly wanting to live and fighting back the pulling tension of free space.

  The remaining souls aboard the Lucky Lady perished one by one. Some of them sucked into space – the rest killed by the mighty ship of no weaponry exploding into millions of crystalline embers.

  But not before the co-pilot could pull himself aboard the small shuttle, bag of supplies in hand – as it coasted down into the atmosphere of the drifts.

  *

  “We should be getting close to the outskirts of Geartown.” May'yok said.

  The sun had faded a bit – nighttime settling in throughout the remote area of planets, including theirs.

  The group acknowledged him with nods, following the large husk warrior as quietly as possible.

  “Someone is up ahead!” May'yok said with quiet alarm. Whispering his words and clinching together a fist.

  “Are they dead?” Cambria asked.

  “Either dead or in damn good need of a shower.” May'yok replied.

  “Should we shoot?” Zilne asked.

  “No,” Dalton replied. “Not yet. We don't know if it's an infected or survivor.”

  About the time of his reply, Dalton sensed something. Be it bushes that were out of place or a strange feel of the wind. Something wasn't right and his extensive military experience warned him of it.

  Turning quickly, He began to skin the iron pony from its holster, though it was too late. His eyes gleaming directly into a revolver pointed his way.

  “You keep getting slower with time, you old bastard.” Johnny replied.

  Though it took a moment, Dalton finally realized the voice to be one of a friend.

  “I figured you'd still be out here scratching together a living.” Dalton replied with a grin. Brushy threads of beard spreading widely as he did so.

  “Cambria.” Johnny said.

  “Johnny.”

  Growing up, the two had been in love. He'd always pictured a day to come when they'd be married, but it wasn't to be. Cambria had bigger ambitions than a life on this planet. A simple lifestyle just not her cup of tea.

  She'd scraped up the money to lease a ship and dreamed of hiring a crew to keep it in the sky. And she'd done just that, finding Dalton in the process. Before the infection began to spread, she'd returned home just a single time. Still, it was long enough to nearly find Dalton and Johnny nearly in a fight to the death. Not over Cambria's affections, per se, but for the simple hell of it. Both men were mouthy, good with a gun and liquored up during the encounter.

  Eventually they'd become friends, though Johnny had no intention of ever leaving his home. Even after the infection began spreading and it had become obvious that folks would die by the masses.

  Suddenly, the darkened sky sparked with a bright light. A huge fireworks display, or so it seemed, with a thunderous bang to go along. The bang to be interpreted by Johnny's gang as unfriendly fire. Immediately firing back into Dalton and his crowd.

  “Stop!” Johnny yelled loudly. “Stop shooting you mangy fucks! These are friends of ours!”

  It took several moments, but the rifle shots finally quit zipping towards them. Each one blistering by and pissing Dalton off a bit further.

  “You mean we come down here to help folks and start getting shot at!” Dalton growled.

  “It was a mistake babe, let it go.” Cambria said. Grabbing her lover by the arm and doing her best to talk sense into him.

  Babe? Johnny thought. Quickly understanding that a woman he'd loved, a woman he'd never gotten over – was now committed to another man before his very eyes.

  “Ah,” Dalton said with a heated grumble. “Shit.” he added. Stopping in his tracks but kicking dirt and rock toward the slow approaching group of outlaws.

  “Sorry old friends,” Johnny said. “It's been hell down here. A shoot first and ask questions later mentality. You don't know what it's like.”

  As May'yok responded over their com to the shuttle and its crew, everyone knew it was about to get worse. Dalton had heard the news broadcast over the crackling radio, as had the rest of the group.

  The Lucky Lady was gone.

  Dalton and his crew had a shuttle, but it was the short distance variety. Nothing that could possibly get them close to Second Glimmeria. And while he struggled with the loss of their ship and its crew, Dalton also hoped some type of distress signal had been sent. Otherwise, it would take a mighty long time for the fleet to realize they were actually missing.

  A snapping sound hit the air around them. The sonic boom of a ship coming in hard.

  “Don't even.” Dalton threatened, pulling his revolver out and pointing it to the small band of outlaws. Daring the filthy bunch of cowboys to make the same mistake twice.

  “That's the other shuttle.” Zilne said.

  “We need to get to it fast.” Dalton replied.

  “I wonder how many of our people made it out.” Cambria asked.

  “Don't matter much,” Dalton replied. “Ships like the Lucky Lady don't go up like a fireworks show unless they're hit with a lot of firepower.”

  “The Viscion?” she asked.

  “That would be my guess,” Dalton replied. “If so, they just stirred up a hornet's nest of pissed off Dalton James.”

  “The Viscion?” Johnny questioned.

  “We'll explain on the way. Can you get us to the area that shuttle went down?” Cambria replied.

  “Yea. Looks like Otter Flats. Gonna have to get to hauling ass though, it's a long march on foot and I can promise you that anyone and anything nearby heard it go down.�
��

  “Appreciate the help old friend.” Dalton said.

  “I'd do anything to help you out.” Johnny said, though his eyes never broke from Cambria's.

  I'm gonna have to kill this fast-drawing sumbitch before it's over with.

  *

  Adam wrangled through the sheets of his bed a bit. Another night of Avery nearly pushing him out of it, wanting the security of a parent as he slept.

  The com, however, quickly brought Adam from his deep sleep. For the most part.

  “Yea.” he said, reaching over to press a button while keeping his eyes closed. Hoping it was only a dream.

  “We need you in the situation room sir, as soon as possible.”

  Taking a deep breath and trying to convince himself he'd slept enough already, Adam sat up in the bed. Cursing anything and everything that had kept him awake.

  “I'll be there in a few.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Laying back down for a moment, Adam slowly made his way from the bed to a small window inside of his quarters. Deep in the heart of their newly-born city, though his room was atop a large tower.

  Looking out of his window for a moment, Adam's eyes fixated on the brimming glow of sunlight. Their brand new day about to begin; his with a meeting in the situation room.

  After finding someone trustworthy near the situation room to care for his son, of course.

  Upon arriving to the situation room, Adam immediately knew something was going down. He'd seen the looks on faces just like these, many times before.

  “We're going to war.” one of the top officials among humanity commented as Adam entered the large chamber room. Ten of their high-ranking officials gathered.

  “War?” Adam replied.

  “We received a hail from the Luck Lady late last night. She came under attack, presumably by the Viscion, and was lost to us in an explosion.”

  “What of Dalton and...”

  “Adam, we believe your friend and his companions are still alive. Looking through the transmissions we received before the explosion, it looks as though the original shuttle arrived intact and the backup shuttle aboard the Lucky Lady was also launched sometime during the attack.”