“Do we even know what we're up against?” the doctor asked with concern.
“Well,” Dalton replied. “Thanks to my quick thinking and laundry list of smuggling charges, I was able to obtain a small handgun from the Viscion.”
“Able to obtain?” one of the officers asked.
“I stole it.” Dalton replied with a grin.
It brought a wide grin the face of Adam Michaels as well. Thinking of how good Dalton was at smuggling to begin with. No alien race had a chance.
“And you need me to look the weapon over?” Doctor Arness asked.
“You got it.” Dalton replied.
As much as he had disliked Doctor Arness, it was common knowledge that the doctor had earned his education in the field of science. Specifically in weaponry and physics. Which fit in perfectly when it came to learning about their enemy.
“I'm also hereby asking that Doctor Arness be put in charge of the God of War,” Dalton said, completely taking everyone by surprise. Including the doctor. “He knows the day to day operations well and can do a fine job, I suspect.”
“I don't know what to say?” Doctor Arness replied.
“Don't say anything,” Dalton replied. “Just get the Hammer resupplied, get it back in the air and get a damn meal with your whining ass.” he added with a grin.
“I'm requesting that we begin construction on a small space platform to orbit Second Glimmeria. A weapons platform that will defend our world against the Viscion, should it come down to it.”
“And what do you expect us to build this space platform out of?” one of the ranking men questioned.
“The Rocky Top,” Dalton replied. “That massive son of a bitch barely hangs in the sky as it is. It sucks up resources and costs us more than it's worth to keep airborne. It should be simple enough to modify it into a weapons platform with some of that ingenuity you men are so famous for.”
He was blowing sunshine up their asses, of course. But the Rocky Top was in horrible condition. Had they ventured out into the black of deep space, the large ship of nearly a thousand souls likely wouldn't have made it through the first month without needing the fleet to halt for repairs. Much like a very old automobile, it was made from heavy steel, basic, came with an insane amount of mileage and sucked down fuel like an alcoholic in the security of his own bedroom.
Good riddance to the eye-sore piece of shit. It would serve the fleet well as a floating satellite filled with weaponry. Just in the fact that they'd save on fuel, and every single man in the room knew it to be true.
“I think both of your requests are reasonable enough,” one of the high-ranking officers replied. “I don't see either of them hitting a snag, as long as the doctor is willing to oversee the construction of such a weapons platform?”
“Indeed.” Doctor Arness replied.
“One final request.” Dalton said.
What are you doing, rubbing a genie lamp over there? Adam thought.
It took everyone a moment to quiet down, but eventually the large room fell to silence. Awaiting Dalton's next words.
“I'm asking that Adam Michaels be placed in charge of our efforts to rebuild down here on the ground.”
“What?” Adam asked.
“You're the best man for the job. You care about people and can think on your feet. Besides, you have a son to think about now. You don't need to be out in the black living in cramped quarters,” Dalton replied. “Now tell me I'm wrong?”
He wasn't, and Adam knew it. For him, it was more of a search for the right words to say thank you to his longtime friend. Giving both Adam and his son a chance to actually live a somewhat normal life.
“I appreciate it. Truly Dalton, I do.” Adam finally replied. Doing so on the brink of tears.
“We've no problem with that. Lieutenant Michaels is highly decorated as an officer,” one of the officials said. “The question is, where will you be during all of this?”
“I'm spending a few days alone with my honey,” Dalton replied. “At which time I'll lace the old boots up one more time and take a small team of volunteers to rescue any survivors I can.”
“Are you sure that's wise?” Doctor Arness asked. “I mean, with the Viscion out there lurking.”
“I live by three simple rules, doctor,” Dalton replied. “Love your woman, hoard your liquor and protect those who can't protect themselves,” he added. “So I'll be hitting the drifts first in search of Cambria's friends and family. Working my way back. Fuck the Viscion and anything they got going on.”
“You forgot wearing a brown duster. Everywhere. Literally.” Adam mentioned.
“That is a close fourth my friend. A very close fourth.” Dalton said with a grin. Welcoming the life of adventure once more. After a few days of relaxation with his lover, anyway.
Chapter 2
*Back to Business*
“Are you sure about this?” Cambria asked.
“As sure as I've ever been about anything in my life” Dalton replied. “Except for loving you.”
It was the first time in many months that Dalton James no longer wore the tag of commander. Slipping into a life he once knew, beginning with his boots. Thick and brown, they had covered his feet through many adventures.
“I'm excited about returning home,” Cambria replied. “As well as frightened.”
“You don't have to be frightened.” Dalton said. Grabbing the woman who'd completed his life – pulling her close to him. Close enough to whisper with ease. “I don't know what's waiting for us out there. But I do know what's here when we get back.”
His words drenched her soul with happiness. Knowing that Dalton had meant for them to start a family after returning. Something Cambria had always dreamed of.
“I know we have work to do,” Cambria said. Remaining close to her lover. “But we could practice now, if you wanted to?” she asked with a giggle.
The next few moments were silent, but passionate. Leading up to the sacred act of lovemaking that both Dalton and Cambria treasured so dearly.
“Is this normal?” one of the larger Husk asked as a small tactical group of soldiers awaited Dalton and Cambria. Positioned on the outside of their leader's door.
“Yes,” a human soldier replied. “Sadly it is.”
His admission brought strong silence. Not strong enough to overpower the screams of pleasure, toppling of furniture and pet names exchanged loudly between Dalton and Cambria. It was safe to assume the large Husk warriors could never again look at Dalton James as the same man.
Ever.
*
Adam stood firm; his hands gripping a large wall of sandstone which overlooked the rolling hills beyond their city. Breathing with conviction as he did his best to savor every single moment.
“Think this gig's for you?” Dalton asked. Approaching his friend with the loud hammer of boots to the stone walkways below his feet.
“I believe so.” Adam replied. Though he never turned to face his old friend. Remaining focused on the beautiful landscape around them.
“Good,” Dalton replied. “Because it sure as shit isn't for me.” he admitted with a laugh.
Turning a bit to watch Avery play with several other small children. Watched over by a few parents of survivors, Adam understood he'd reached his final destination.
“If it weren't for Avery, I'd go.” Adam replied.
“I know you would,” Dalton replied. “Probably get my ass shot off too. Always falling in love with the ladies.”
They both laughed for a moment, though Adam knew it to be true. He'd fallen for so many along the way – now sentenced to a lifetime of missing them. Both Sarah and Sasha the only two women he'd ever truly loved.
“Besides. It's better for your son here. A lot more normal than waking up in a steel rack out in the black. Middle of nowhere.” Dalton added.
“I appreciate you thinking about my son.” Adam replied.
“Well, don't celebrate it too much. Cambria put me up to it. Even offered to writ
e down the words if I thought I'd forget 'em.” Dalton confessed.
Adam laughed harder that very moment than he had in a long time. Perhaps even years.
“You remember us all sitting around that table and swapping tales? That shit hole bar?”
“Paulie's.” Adam replied.
“That's the place,” Dalton said. “I'll never forget it. Think about that night all the time.”
Adam did as well. Sitting with his close friends and true love as they prepared to part ways. A celebration of those who'd fallen and the lives that awaited each of them.
“I try not to think about it much.” Adam replied.
“We've raised a lot of hell though, haven't we?” Dalton asked.
“Yea,” Adam said, turning to look directly at his longtime friend with full-attention. “Yea we have.”
“I may not come back from this.” Dalton said. Speaking of his adventure to come in the drifts.
“I know.” Adam replied.
“Just want you to know, that um,” Dalton said with hesitation. “You've been like a brother to me.”
“Touché.” Adam said.
“Always with these big ass words,” Dalton growled. “Making me lose my damn buzz.”
Adam began to laugh heavily. So did his longtime brother in the art of smuggling and staying alive.
A hug would follow their conversation. An unspoken agreement. Adam wanted his friend to return in one piece and Dalton wanted to oblige him.
*
“Commander,” a well-armed Viscion soldier said. “We've arrived.”
“Good,” Commander Ryalk replied. “Unleash our dogs of war and fill our freezers. For tonight we feast on flesh.”
“Yes sir.”
They had made the short trip to the large world of Juvenitis. Though larger than Ronica, it had fallen under Ronican control long ago. Prior to the infection, at least.
It had been home to hundreds of thousands of citizens. Now hundreds of thousands of infected, which sat just fine with the Viscion. To them, it meant ample food for the harvesting.
Ryalk turned once more to look across their freezing chambers. Large metal hooks in line as far as the eye could see. Each of them awaiting the carcass of humans.
The Viscion would exterminate the infected, as promised, allowing them feast like kings. But they had no intentions of leaving perfectly good meat behind. They had planned to harvest the infected first, at which time they would crush the fleet of uninfected. Giving them a bit more food for their travels in deep space.
Rylak smiled wide, exposing vicious teeth as he watched large ships purge themselves from his warship. Filled with Viscion soldiers and plenty of room to package human flesh, at which time they'd be transported back to the warship.
He'd not demanded Dalton's group be disarmed out of fear. He'd done so in order to give his people time to study the human weaponry. Having done so, Rylak knew his species was the most dominant. Their technology far more advanced.
Unlike the human weaponry, the Viscion powered their weapons with a crystal. One that was as transparent as the clearest of diamonds, though it emitted a charge which allowed their technology to function.
Better, even, was the fact that the crystals would recharge over time. Meaning their rifles were limitless in ammunition when used sparingly and their ships, which functioned by way of several very large crystals, would fly indefinitely.
The Viscion could produce their own crystals, though it took massive amounts of time and energy to do so. Depending on the size of the crystal.
They could mass-produce smaller ones, which they used in combat weaponry. But larger crystals took time. The wait certainly worth it in the end.
One of the two ships which accompanied their warship was a processing facility which churned out the technology regularly. If a ship became damaged, for whatever reason, they could literally produce a new piece to replace the damaged one. Replacing the translucent beams and structuring within the ships. Nothing more than ships made from crystal.
Powering themselves.
The infected could be captured and purified on board the ship as well, which had been the plan of the Viscion. Bringing them to a large chamber on board the processing ship and cleansing them back to human form with only the touch of a button.
Their commander had failed to tell Dalton of this technology, however, as the humans would have pleaded for the Viscion's help in eliminating the plagued horde of priests while saving so many people under the virus' influence.
The race of chalk white knights among the stars cared not for rescuing anyone, nor did they come to lend a hand.
The Viscion had arrived with a single purpose. Stock their freezers and be on their way, as they'd done so many times before with other races throughout the sands of time.
They'd have their fill of meat, one way or another. And that fact alone, led to Rylak’s smile lasting a bit longer than usual. Knowing his stomach would soon be digesting the pure protein that was human flesh.
*
As Dalton sat down in the shuttle, its walls crafted of thick plated steel and strong rivets; he began to remember what it was like. The excitement which accompanied such a rush of emotion as possible death awaited.
Reaching over, Dalton began strapping in the woman he loved. Double checking her harness for safety.
“Now you get to find out what a true military jump is like.” he said with a grin.
“The same kind you've bitched about countless times?” Cambria asked.
“Yep,” he replied. “That's the one.”
It was a twelve man shuttle which would be filled to the max. A pilot and twelve swinging dicks ready to punish anything that stood in the way.
Well, eleven swinging dicks.
One by one, Husk began to file into the shuttle. Their tall stature nearly touching the top of the shuttle cabin. For them, the ride would be particularly unpleasant. For a smuggler draped in brown leather, his lover by his side and a flask of scratch in his hand; not so much.
The plan was rather simple. The shuttle would make its way the drifts – a very remote string of worlds on the fringe of charted space. The exact opposite corner of the last known Viscion position, by design. They would soon be followed by a larger ship, a freighter. The Lucky Lady would be filled with weapons and supplies, as well as nearly twenty Husk and a reserve shuttle. In case the shit got thick.
Dalton's team would land and search out survivors, at which time his pilot would ferry them back to the freighter in orbit. As the team became fatigued, they would platoon out with other husk on standby aboard the Lucky Lady. Though Dalton didn't see himself resting. It was his last hurrah. His one chance to get outside of the comfort zone and raise some hell. It'd been a long time coming, and he planned to savor every last moment of it.
“Whiskey-One, your team is cleared for takeoff.” a voice announced over the com. Stinging each and every one of those aboard the shuttle – knowing the time had come.
“Copy that...” the pilot replied, turning to his XO. “I'm not sure what to call them sir?”
Dalton understood. In all of the planning, he'd forgotten to do one thing as commander. Name their city. While it was a struggle to do sober, he mulled the decision.
“Resilience.”
“Copy that Resilience Actual.”
His words took a moment to register with those within the control center of the city. Finally answered by the man in charge of their rebuilding efforts.
“You take care of yourself, buddy,” Adam said. His voice crackling over the radio com as the shuttle began pushing up into the stars. “Resilience Command out.”
It was the first time Cambria had been on a planned military flight. She'd been aboard shuttles before, but usually in panic mode. Thinking nothing of a swift rescue.
This time seemed different. Her brain seemed to journey to a thousand different places within only the span of a few seconds. Cambria had always imagined elaborate planning on board such a
flight into combat, but that wasn't the case. Each soldier remained unnervingly silent. Each of them broadcasting a look of ready on their face.
It frightened her. Wondering if this were in a fact a one way trip, knowing they were flying into the heart of it all. The place where the infection first began.
The drifts.
It had been Cambria's home growing up. She'd worked here and there, scraping up enough money to lease a small airship and begin working. Smuggling. None of it legal, but all of it local. Those jobs led to money, which eventually led to the purchase of her very first ship. The Outer Heaven.
Cambria's ambitions to be wealthy by way of underground trading led her and a small crew into a bar looking for work. Instead, she found a man who looked beaten down and homeless. From there, Dalton James became a friend – which led to a lot more. Complete and total love.
For what he lacked in etiquette and fine clothing, Dalton more than made up for in experience and honesty.
*
“All quiet.” one of the armed men said. Wearing a look of fatigue and starvation as if it were a rental tuxedo.
“Good,” Johnny replied. “Been a few nights since I had any kind of decent sleep.”
The Revolver. A nickname Johnny had earned around the area. Until the infection began to spread, at least. Quicker with a six-shooter than anyone could imagine. Just as mean-spirited too. Unless he considered you a friend.
“Getting tired of living on shitty beans and,” one of the cowboys added. “Well, more shitty beans.”
A group of eleven of them. Armed to the teeth, though each carried the most basic of weaponry. A revolver – perhaps a shotgun.
“It'll pass with time. Just got to keep surviving.” Johnny replied with a nod.
“Hell, we still don't even know where the infection came from.” the cowboy replied. Several within the group agreeing.
“Nope,” Johnny said. “But I do know it doesn't matter at this point. Hell, beans is a lot better than most like us have. The ones lucky enough to have made it this far in one piece.”
“Just feels like we've been abandoned. That's all.” another one of the cowboys said. Spitting a bit of tobacco down at the entrance to their large, dimly lit cave.
“We were abandoned hundreds of years before this,” Johnny replied. “Our people have been on their own out in the drifts for centuries now. The Legion didn't give a rat's ass about us, nor the Colonials. And you can bet your sweet one that whoever is left is right there with 'em,” Johnny said. “Gotta keep surviving. That's what we gotta do.”
The Fleet Page 8