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 w
e 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.”
Adam's mind went to ease a bit, though he also understood that, had Dalton survived, he'd be in one hell of a dilemma.
“We need to go get them,” Adam said. “If they made it to the surface alive, the Viscion will be right on top of them in a matter of hours.”
“We know,” one of the ranking officials said. “But it will take time.”
“They may not have time!” Adam shouted.
“Adam,” the man said calmly. “You need to put your emotions to the side for a moment and think like a military man here. If we rush out on a half-ass mission to save our soldiers, we'll be no good to them. Because we'll be dead. Believe me, we're going to get our people, but when we do,” the man added. “We're bringing the fury of hell along for the ride.”
As much as Adam hated to admit it, the officer was right. From a military standpoint, they stood no chance of winning head-to-head against a race which held a substantial advantage when it came to weaponry.
“So what do you need me to do in order to help?” Adam asked.
“You know Dalton James better than anyone in this room. We just need to know, if he were on the surface of the planet in question, where he'd most likely be trying to hold up?
Wherever the liquor is.
“Um,” Adam said, appearing to stumble a bit as he fought against the thought of whiskey. “He'd either take the highest ground possible or he'd look for a centralized building somewhere. Some place that gave him a lot of cover.”
“Would you be willing to go in and help our team try to extract Dalton and his group?” the officer asked.
A million things flashed through his mind. Seemingly every hour of every day he'd spent together with a friend who'd been like a brother to him. A man he'd do anything for.
“Regrettably, no. I have a son to think about now.” Adam replied.
“I see.” the officer replied with a bit of frustration.
“Sir,” Craig said. Entering the large room of military preparation. “I'll go.”
“And you are?” the officer asked.
“Just a pilot who's ass is here because of Dalton James refusing to leave me behind. Sir.” Craig replied.
Closed doors or not, rumors had already spread throughout much of the city. Especially the military branch of it. Including Craig and his new found love, Anna, who wasn't crazy about Craig's willingness to go into battle.
“With due respect, lieutenant, I'm not sure how much use you'd be to the group we have going in.” the officer replied.
“I have a plan.” Craig said.
“I'm sure you do,” the officer said. “And so do we. Now if you'll excuse us, lieutenant.”
“Wait,” Adam said, standing to his feet. “You asked me to think like a military man, so I am. As a military man, if I were up against impeccable odds and someone announced a plan, I think I would give them a minute of my time.”
“Alright then,” the officer said. Wanting nothing more than to rid himself of the lieutenant's sight, but respecting Adam Michaels enough to give the young soldier an audience. “Get on with it.”
Craig would deliver a plan that would, in all honesty, awe those in attendance. And it would eventually be put to good use against the Viscion.
But not before he could nod appreciation to Adam. Finding respect in the man that had accomplished so much throughout his time in the military.
Both honorable...and otherwise.
*
Peeling his eyes open slowly, the co-pilot of the Lucky Lady began to sit up. Realizing his body was in bad condition; perhaps broken ribs and a leg that wouldn't quite work. Very painful to the man, who cringed with each breath.
The Fleet Page 10