The Fleet

by John M. Davis

  It's what he did best. Perhaps the fastest hand in all of the Skyla System.

  Perhaps.“Commander on deck!” a soldier yelled out, bringing the entire bridge of the ship to attention.

  They remained at attention, though minds began to drift. Watching Commander Dalton James enter a bit different than they'd seen him before.

  His days of dress blues were gone. The smuggler turned commander had taken the advice of his lover, for better or for worse.

  Their first glance of him provided a loud clicking noise. Brought easily by his cowboys boots striking the metal flooring. Anything but new, Dalton's boots showed a map of use, though they were damn capable. Comfortable too.

  Looking up a bit, Dalton's blue jeans fed directly into the coattail of a brown duster Cambria had bought him long ago. In fact, it still reeked of cigar smoke and adventurous days gone by. A beat-up Glimmerian thumper strapped beneath the coat, while a standard combat pistol was holstered to his side.

  The thumper barely peeking through brown leather and speaking of a time when free men fought the system. Partial shotgun with very explosive rounds. A relic, though Dalton could appreciate any weapon. Especially a weapon which had aged so gracefully.

  “At ease.” Dalton said, barking the order and heading straight to the large table nearest to the shatterproof glass window overlooking the stars.

  The table was illuminated with light blue and normally broadcast their fleet's battle assignments. Today, however, it served as a coffee table as Dalton sat a glass of piping hot caffeine down and skimmed the room.

  He noticed everyone staring into his direction and had expected nothing less. Just as Cambria had said, these men were used to being commanded by politicians. It was time they served under a leader who gave a damn.

  “Time to change a few things up gentlemen.” Dalton said loudly, grabbing the full attention of the crewmen around him.

  “Sir.” one of them boldly replied. Not daring to question him – simply acknowledging they were listening.

  “These coordinates,” Dalton said, slapping a piece of small paper down to the table and sliding them toward one of his crewmen. “Get the fleet on the same page. Let 'em know this is where we're heading.”

  “Yes sir,” the soldier quickly replied, wasting no time executing Dalton's order.

  “Sir, if I may,” one of the other crewmen said, outranking everyone on the bridge other than Commander James. “The doctor is likely to push against this idea.”

  “Good thinking,” Dalton replied. “Arrest that son of a bitch.”

  “Um, alright,” the soldier replied. His brush cut hair very trim and proper. “Arrest him on what grounds?”

  “I don't know, just arrest him. I'll figure out the details later.” Dalton scolded.

  “As you wish sir.”

  “Gentlemen, here is the deal,” Dalton said, quickly standing to his feet to gain everyone's attention. “I refuse to run away from my home – tail tucked between my legs. Sitting up here to regroup is one thing, but I'm gonna get mine.”

  His brash statement brought a bit of chatter throughout the bridge.

  “If people revolt on this, fuck 'em. If a captain of a ship wants to run like a scalded ass dog, let 'em. Tell them to carry their asses. But this political shit, it's done. Over. If we are gonna hang it out in the blowing wind each and every day for these people, they need to understand we're in charge. If they forget, we need to pull back on that chain just a bit.”

  “Hell yea.” one of the soldier said loudly, bringing a much needed smile to the face of a wily one.

  Dalton continued to smile for a moment. Knowing deep down that Cambria was right. These men would respect him for leading them with grit.

  “I've been through it all and seen it all gentlemen,” Dalton proudly claimed. “The wandering dead below us haven't driven our race to the brink of extinction. Weakness has. It's time for us to show our backbones and whip some non-pulse having ass. Anybody that doesn't like it, you tell them to hit the damn bricks. That's an order.”

  Cheering burst out inside of the bridge, taking several minutes to come to a complete silence once more.

  At which time, Dalton leaned forward and pulled a hand-held mic from the table – which would broadcast his coming words to the fleet around him and any survivors on Ronica's surface below. The ones lucky enough to have a good com unit, anyway.

  “People of the fleet, this is Commander Dalton James,” he said, bringing an entire race to near standstill. Including his lover, who smiled wide and listened to her cowboy. “Early this morning, I dispatched a settlement team to a planet we've always known as Kyuly. The purpose of their trip, to prep the planet's largest known location for our fleet. It's an older city, one spoken of quite often by the Husk and from what I'm told it's in very livable condition.” Dalton added. Pausing for a moment to let those words sink in.

  “There are those among you who will not agree with this move, and I respect each and every opinion. However,” Dalton said with a decisive tone. “It's non-negotiable and is a military decision. In other words, what remains of our army is going to land and wipe out any threats which may be there. After assuring it's both safe and livable, any civilians will be welcomed with open arms. At which time we will form a brand new government, one that works.”

  His words would sting many within the fleet. Their commander having overstepped his powers in what could have been viewed as treason.

  “Any government that has led us into being a race of people hiding on ships and leaving our own people behind is a government that needs to go. We need something better. Our children need a future and that future will be in that very city on the planet we will now know as Second Glimmeria.”

  Dalton knew his words had shaken the fleet to its core. Seeing the different opinions written to the faces of even the crewmen around him.

  “I'll not leave my home and, in doing so, leave survivors down below to die. That's not how I'm wired. We'd like to sit in our comfortable rooms aboard our toasty warm ships and believe that nobody survived down below. But the truth is, there are a shit ton of people down there waiting for us to help them. Soldiers just like the ones in this fleet. Women. Children. What kind of commander would I be if I just left them to die? I won't do that.”

  Dalton was convinced that it had grown so quiet that his ears could hear gears within the ship turning – keeping the mighty war ship in orbit. Still, he told it like it needed to be told.

  “In anticipation of heated opinions, shuttled filled with marines loyal to me have already boarded each ship within the fleet. I won't keep anyone here against their will, but I'll be damned if I allow our resources to vanish. Each captain is instructed to pass a digital log throughout his or her ship. Any person wishing not to join us on Second Glimmeria will be added to the list. As the final list is turned over to me, I promise you I'll see to it that you have your own ship and enough supplies to get you as far away from here as you want to go. You have my word.”

  Dalton said, pausing for nearly a full minute.

  “Any person who retaliates against the soldiers carrying out my orders will answer to me.”

  Hanging up the mic, Dalton fully anticipated members of his own bridge to revolt. Though he'd come prepared for that – several armed Husk warriors entering the bridge at Dalton's command.

  “Sir,” one of the crewmen said, intimidated by the larger Husk soldiers. “Your orders?”

  The Husk were an orc-like race. Well over a foot taller than the tallest of humans and several hundred pounds heavier than Dalton, or anyone among his bridge crew. Each green-skinned Husk rippling with muscle. As their race was famous for grit in battle and freakish brute strength.

  “Now we wait son,” Dalton replied. “We wait to see who's with us...and who's against us.”

  *

  “I'm picking up the unique signature of a Hunter shuttle.” one of the soldiers announced, prompting the rest of the group to remain alert.


  “It could be any Hunter. We're not sure that it's Sarah and her group.” a second soldier replied.

  “It's her.” Adam said.

  He offered no explanation. Just a confirmation that a woman he'd once loved was indeed on the small moon planet – its cold air cutting through their survival suits a bit.

  “What should we do?” one of the soldiers asked.

  Without a reply, Adam simply pulled his revolver and fired a single shot into the air. Letting Sarah know they had arrived.

  “We wait.” Adam replied.As expected, Commander Dalton James began to hear gunshots firing throughout his ship. Reports of similar firefights taking place throughout the fleet.

  “Sir, we're getting a lot of resistance from two of our ships. One captain is refusing our team of marines’ entry into the bulk of his ship. The Sky Giant.”

  His report was quickly squashed for a moment as two Goliath units, their clanging steel exoskeletons distinct, entered the bridge area. Accompanied by several Husk soldiers and Dalton's lover, Cambria.

  Standing to his feet, Dalton quickly embraced Cambria and they welcomed the presence of the other.

  “Sir?”

  Always with this tin soldiering shit! Dalton thought.

  “Those who are against staying with us,” Dalton said. “Gently usher them to the Sky Giant. It's deep space capable and full of supplies. Let 'em have at it. Once a ship is filled with nothing but people who want to fight for our homes, send them down to Second Glimmeria.”

  “You mean Kyuly?” the crewman asked.

  “No, I mean Second Glimmeria. It has a ring to it.” Dalton replied with a smile.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Dalton,” Cambria said, pulling the thick leather sleeves of his duster a bit. “What are you doing?”

  “Handling it.” he replied.

  “You're dividing the fleet.” Cambria warned.

  “The fleet is already divided. It always has been. When we get down there, I need every able body fighting beside me, not against me. It's better to settle this now.”

  “Atlas is good to go.” one of the crewmen said.

  “Good, send 'em on. Inform the settlement group their first ship is inbound.” Dalton replied.

  He could hear the crewman speaking into a wireless headset. Moments later, a large ship close to the shatterproof window in front of them began to turn and set course.

  Just the first of many throughout the course of the next hour. Each ship allowing those who wished to leave time to do so, before breaking from the fleet and heading to a set of coordinates which led them to Second Glimmeria.

  The history of the planet was conflicting. Kyuly was comprised mostly of steep mountains of snow and extreme desert, though a bit of it was rocky hills and vibrant green fields. It had been seldom used because of its proximity to all four of the Skyla System's suns, which blazed onto a portion of it non-stop. Bringing extreme heat to that area of the planet. A small area of its rear-facing side was subjected to non-stop darkness as it sat in the shadow of the system's network of suns. That mean it was very cold and remained dark, which produced no growth. Only rock.

  A small area of the planet was livable. The center ring, which benefited from its positioning between shadow and suns. Remaining the perfect temperature and providing a decent lifestyle.

  It had seldom been used because there was a wealth of locations to choose from before the infection began. Its location suggested to Dalton by the Husk.

  He looked a bit odd – sitting back in the lavish chair of commander and surrounded by crewmen that were clean shaven and dressed to code. His brown duster nearly dragging the floor as he sat there, thinking of days gone by.

  He'd done a great many things while wrapped inside of this old coat. Countless times, Dalton had cursed politics while draped inside of the rough brown leather. Now he sat atop of the political game, which was something he never saw coming.

  The truth was, Dalton hated being in command. Always had. Having this many people looking to you for answers was a double-edged sword. It had its advantages, but sure did bring a lot of stress to the man who had been accustomed to living by the seat of his pants.

  “Any word on our phantom team?” Dalton asked.

  “No sir.” one of the crewmen nearest to him replied.

  “Adam?”

  “No,” the crewman replied, though he did so with caution. Understanding that Dalton was personally vested in Adam's search for his son. “Unfortunately not.”

  “I'm sure Adam will find his son.” Cambria said, taking a seat beside her lover and commander.

  “I should be down there with him looking. Not up here sitting on my ass.” Dalton said.

  “He's with capable soldiers, dear,” Cambria said, smiling a bit to comfort him. “He'll be fine.”

  “I know they're capable, but it just feels off,” Dalton admitted. “I've been watching his back for so many years now. If anything were to happen to him...”

  “Adam is fine and he will be just fine. Stop your damn worrying,” Cambria said with a grin. “That's an order.”

  “Potty mouth.” Dalton said.

  If ever there were an example of pot calling the kettle black – it was that very statement.“Anything?” Craig asked as he rolled over a bit. Waking from a short nap.

  “Nothing,” Anna replied. “Still nothing but rock.”

  She remained in front of the phantom's graphing equipment. Having traveled nearly three days at full-burn, they'd covered enough miles to have flown through their own star system many times.

  “How much longer can we go at it?” Craig asked, standing from the rack and stretching just a bit.

  “Plenty of oxygen,” she replied. “Fuel looks to be the only concern moving forward. I'd say a day or so before we turn back, assuming we fly in short bursts from here on out.”

  “Sounds good.” he admitted.

  Reaching down for a moment, Craig began to sift through a few papers which the computers aboard their shuttle had printed. Planet locations, mineral content; everything the fleet would need to evaluate its next move.

  “Still no water, huh?”

  “Not nearly enough,” Anna replied. “I charted one early that contained a bit of water, but no oxygen. This is a long way out to be hauling resources back and forth. Resources that are in such small quantities, anyway.”

  “Yea, it is,” he replied. “This far out we're going to need to hit the jackpot.”

  “I've charted several with oxygen and livable conditions, but not enough water to support an entire race.” Anna said with discouragement.

  “Just makes no sense,” Craig said. “All of these huge masses of planet. Each of them with ample vegetation, oxygen and livable temperatures. It seems like there should be more water. It's almost as if someone designed these perfect places to live and forgot to include one of the things we absolutely need.”

  “Yea,” she replied. “I was thinking the same thing. The question is, what have you been so deep in thought about since we left?” Anna pressed.

  “Nothing.” Craig said.

  “You know,” she replied. “When you tell me nothing and I know better, it's kind of offensive.”

  “I'm not trying to offend you.” Craig defended.

  “I know you,” Anna stated. “I've known you for a very long time and I know when something is bothering you.”

  “Alright,” he said. “Nothing I want to talk about. At least not right now.”

  “Fair enough.” Anna said with a short tone.

  “Look,” Craig said. “I'm not trying to put you off or offend you. And it means the world to me that you're asking. You have no idea. It's just not something I want to talk about while we're cooped up inside of this tin can looking for something that obviously isn't here.”

  “Yea,” Anna replied. “Then again, what you're looking for may be right under your nose.”

  He wasn't sure if her words were directed at him or the mission at hand. Either way,
Craig secretly cursed the fact that he couldn't walk away for a few minutes to clear his head. Forced to watch such a beautiful woman sitting only feet from him. His heart being held prisoner by her own, though he doubted that she felt the same way.“I don't like this shit.” one of the soldiers admitted.

  He did so in a hushed voice, though Adam heard his words loud enough. He even agreed with the soldier to a point. But it was about finding his son. Adam knew the Hunters would come looking for the gunshot, hell, they may have been watching them at this exact moment.

  As a campfire flickered onto the face of Adam Michaels, he understood the soldier's reservation. Who actually wanted to bring vampires to them in the dark of night?

  As the flicker flashed onto his face, bringing warm air in an otherwise chilled night, Adam felt the presence of his lover. He knew, somehow, that Sarah Blaine was close.

  Standing to his feet, Adam began to look away from their encampment and into the darkness around them.

  “Sarah, I know you're out there. I can feel you close.” Adam said, prompting his team to ready their weapons in anticipation of a shootout.

  “How would he know that?” one of the team members asked in a whisper.

  “Not sure,” another replied. “But he's out there.”

  They had all thought Adam Michaels to have grown a bit crazy. Perhaps the stress of a child ripped from his arms or the days of happiness and love gone by. Sometime loss in such enormous amounts can change a person.

  “Sarah, I just want to talk.”

  “No,” her voice replied, though it came from the complete darkness around them. “You want your son back.”

  “Of course I do,” Adam replied. “I'm not here for a fight.”

  “Then why all of the soldiers?” she asked. Her voice crisp as she remained hidden.

  “They're just here in case we would run into infected. They're not here for you. You have my word.”

  Adam's word was solid. At times, his word had been all he had. He was old fashioned in such a way that a man's word was sacred, and Sarah knew it.

  “Disarm your men.” a Hunter Elite demanded, walking from the shadows around them, as did nearly two-dozen more.

  The elite vampires were a different breed. Stronger and much more capable of combat. They were the heroes of generations gone by. Each of them turned to the nation of undead based on such an unbelievable ability in combat.