

THE FLEET

Gunship XII

by John M. Davis

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical people, events or places are used fictitiously. Any other names, places, events or characters are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2019 John Michael Davis

Editing by: Russo Archer

All rights reserved, including the right to copy this book or portions of this book in any form.

Manufactured in the United States of America

johndavisbooks.wordpress.com

### Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Commander

Chapter 2: Political Intervention

Chapter 3: The Search Ends

Chapter 4: Broken Promise

Chapter 5: Enter the Feared

Chapter 6: Loss of Sleep

Chapter 7: Safe At Last

Chapter 8: The Unexpected

Chapter 9: Undead

Coming Soon: The Star Fleet

About the Author

Chapter 1

The Commander

Commander's Log:

The first log of many, I suspect, as life seems to have thrown a curve-ball right into my lap. Still, as commander of this fleet, I'm tasked with providing hope.

Seeing the pain in the eyes of my best friend has been indescribably hard. He is like a brother to me. Certainly the closest thing to family I've known since I was a child. So, as I look into the eyes of those around me within the fleet, I understand their loss.

The good news is that we've confirmed across the fleet that no infected made the exodus. The bad news, of course, is that we have no real idea of direction. We simply do not know what perils or wealth of resources await us beyond the line we consider uncharted space.

We've deployed probes in hopes of gaining a better understanding of what is out there in the black. They have relayed information back to us, but only the basics. We still have no idea if life exists out there. The only thing that is for certain is that we can't stand idly by forever. Our reserves of food, water and fuel will eventually run out.

We have literally become a race that is chained to the sky. Infected dead have overrun our homes below and left us with no other choice.

Some among the fleet think we need to revisit the planets throughout the Skyla System. Perhaps salvage more of what we need before setting sail into the stars beyond. Others believe that with time, the plague will end itself and we can return to our homes.

Not revisiting the planets below anytime soon seems to be the only thing Doctor Arness and I agree on. That uptight son of a bitch. I can already see that he plans to be a constant thorn in my side, though he will do so with a few teeth missing.

They say that assuming power changes a man. I don't know about that. I've changed, that's for sure, but I do not credit my new position of power for it. I credit loss.

As I look back on all of the memories gone by. The bars. The bar-fights. The jail time. The women I've bedded down. Well, to be frank, this list could go on for quite some time. Being an official entry and all, I'll cut to the chase.

The loss of so many who I've cared for along the way has changed me. Many of my good friends. My crew...hell, even my dog. They've all been taken from me, each one taking a piece of me with them to the grave.

The moment I held true love in my arms - I became a man. So I accept the challenge of leading these people to a new home. I'm ready.

I'll lead these people as the man they need me to be. The man that life has moulded me into with its tough lessons.

The whiskey though, I'm not giving that up. I've grown into a man, but I ain't dead.

-Commander Dalton James

Holding a firm fist into the air, Lieutenant Gregory brought a halt to the entire group of eight strong. Colonial military, by the look of them. Combat blue patched with the silver seal of the colonies. It was standard gear for the military force that had once been so mighty – now reduced to a shell of its former self after narrowly escaping the plague of undead.

Easing down, the lieutenant grabbed a bit of mud into his battle-tested fingers, rubbing through its wet grit slowly. Doing everything he could to scout the area ahead.

Seconds later, a horde of undead sprang from the nearby tree line, approximately twenty of them charging at full-speed.

As the Colonial group began to fire silenced rifles into the pack of wild infected, the bodies of growling dead started dropping like panties on a poker night Friday. With their true deaths came screaming howls.

All but one. Its teeth were cut to a sheen and it sprinting wildly at the man in charge. No doubt the leader of the infected pack. The alpha male.

A single pistol shot would end the alpha's life. Snapping from a standard issue sidearm, though doing its deed in silence. The pistol was outfitted with a suppressor, adding a bit of elegance to the otherwise basic weapon.

Hitting the infected leader at point blank range, Lieutenant Gregory watched the bastard drop backwards like a stone, flailing uncontrollably for several moments on the rain-drenched ground. Finding its final resting place.

"Scout up ahead. They seem to be thinning out. Could be a sign of Hunters in the area." the lieutenant said.

"Sir, I don't understand the need to continue tracking the Hunters. We could just let them die down here with the infected." one of the soldiers remarked.

"Understanding the purpose is not your job, executing my orders _is_."

"Understood sir." the soldier replied, turning to order their scout ahead. All in hopes of tracking down the location of Hunters on what remained of Ronica. He didn't like it, none of them did, but orders were orders.

Lieutenant Gregory understood his soldier's reservation. He too wondered why they continued to track down a race that had caused them so much pain. It would be much easier to leave them be. But he was also the ideal soldier, executing his orders without question. Something he expected from the men as well.

Fucking rain. The lieutenant thought.

As Commander Dalton James sat quietly with a small glass of brown whiskey in one hand, his other hand flipping a single revolver bullet through its fingers; Dalton looked across the stars. Watching the lights of dozens of smaller ships enter and depart from his own. It had become his favorite place to sit while thinking. A thick, red chair of overstuffed plush. A small window directly in front of him which overlooked a bulk of the fleet, and, most importantly, he was conveniently located near the man-drink.

The God of War.

Not Dalton James, though he'd seen his fair share of war throughout the years, but the ship beneath his feet. It was massive. Designed for deep space travel and armed to the teeth, the ship was meant to house occupants for tens, maybe even hundreds of years.

In fact, the entire fleet was. Ships designed to process fuel from rock, along with their fleet's ability to operate on solar power. Another equipped to churn salvageable ice into drinkable water, as well as filter the fleet's existing supply. There were ships designated for government use, ships that were military grade and dozens of civilian ships, each with its own flavor and purpose.

Every ship within the fleet had its use, if only to provide large spaces for living quarters. These people had put any hope they had left into the ships they now called home. They had been evicted from their former homes by the undead. An infection of some type, though the fleet's scientists had yet to explain its mystery. They understood it quickly took the body of its host, but how the infection originally spawned remains unexplained.

"You alright cowboy?" Cambria asked, easing up behind the fleet's commander. Softly massaging his tense shoulders.

Her hands were a comfort to him. The touch of a woman he loved so dearly. More than most could ever begin to comprehend based on their idea of love. Cambria had been his everything – his one place of solitude in a universe that was on the brink of destruction.

"I sure don't feel like a cowboy. I feel like some stiff behind a desk."

"I'm sure you'll get used to things with time." she replied. Rubbing the tense feeling from his shoulders.

"Maybe," he admitted. "Maybe not. I'm like a wild animal baby, you can cage me up but it doesn't mean I won't long for the days of running lose again." he added with a grin.

The life of an officer was as fitting as the photos on Dalton's wall. Crooked with time and a bit of bedroom shagging. He'd always disliked authority in general, especially those in charge. Now _he_ was in charge of humanity.

"I think the fleet is waiting on your command. They trust your timing." Cambria said with a glowing smile of reassurance.

She was the epitome of beautiful and had always been so. Attracted to Dalton because of his heart, which overflowed with compassion. Though his rugged look didn't hurt things either. He had a way of covering up the good man inside, but she'd seen it early on.

"Let's hope you're right, cause I have no intentions of leaving anytime soon," Dalton replied, continuing his stare out into the stars. "We have no idea what's waiting out there for us. Maybe a fresh start on a string of planets ripe for the picking," he added. "Or maybe something a lot worse than anything our history speaks of. I've signed off on a small fleet of ships that wishes to head into the black."

"You're dividing the fleet?" she asked.

"Not a true division," he replied. "I've signed off on six ships to depart for the black. Their captains and those aboard know the risk. They've accepted it. Their departure won't hurt us from a resource standpoint."

"Yea but-" she began.

"If people want to cut ties and look for their own fresh start, who am I to stand in their way?" Dalton replied. "Still, I signed the order in private. I don't want word to get out throughout the fleet and cause panic. They'll leave out in just a few hours and none of our other ships will be the wiser. I've arranged it."

Walking to the front of Dalton for a moment, Cambria eased herself onto his lap. Straddling the smuggler turned commander and draping her arms around his neck.

"I trust you," she remarked. "I think it's good that you're letting people go their own way. I also think it was a good idea to keep it covert."

The mere touch of her skin to the back of his neck, nothing short of intoxicating.

"I think we need to stay put though. Maybe this plague will play itself out."

"Who are you trying to fool, 'ya big lug?" she asked. "You're stalling the fleet to give Adam enough time to find his son, and I don't blame you. I think that's admirable."

He smiled in defeat.

"Just hope he finds his boy."

"He will," Cambria remarked, moving her hand to Dalton's chin and looking him straight in the eyes. "You just need to have faith." she added.

Dalton had faith. He knew deep down that the day was soon approaching when Adam would find his son. He also hoped like hell they had the firepower to take him back from the grip of the small army of Vampires who'd ran off with him.

"We still have time to change our minds."

"No we don't, Cooper Garrett," Laurie replied. "Besides, we've made the right decision. Being on the ships that head out into the black tonight, that's our best option."

"I'm having second thoughts about it," Cooper admitted. "Six ships against an entire universe of the unknown."

"It's because you hate change," she smiled. "You always have. You're afraid to change, but this time it's necessary. The fleet is going to eventually leave anyway. They'll have to. Water will run short, food will run out and they'll start panicking. You said it yourself. People will likely die as they finally decide to head into the black in search of a new home. We're better off going now, while the supplies are there and we can do things on our own terms."

Laurie Lancaster had always been Cooper's voice of reason. Since they were only knee-high kids on the small farming planet of Jasis, she'd kept him out of trouble. Moreover, Laurie was right. He _was_ afraid of change. He always had been. There was something about jumping out of his comfort zone that scared the hell our of Cooper.

"Relax," Laurie said with a smile. She was young enough, perhaps in her early twenties and had the flawless complexion and deep brown hair to show for it. Most of all, she had her smile. It's what he'd always loved about her. "We have the ships to get things done. It's no different than us going into the black a year from now, except we'll have plenty of supplies if we go right now, instead of waiting."

"I suppose you're right." he admitted.

" _I_ normally am."

"Are you mocking me?" he jokingly asked.

"Mocking you?" Laurie replied. "I would be _much_ too afraid to mock a Colonial soldier. I mean, you've been in for two and a half years now. As for me, I'm nothing more than a plant biologist."

"Two years and ten months, actually," he replied with a bit of sarcasm. "And you _are_ mocking me."

Laurie smiled in defeat.

"What you do is very important. Without folks like you, we would be able to grow the food we needed to eat."

"I suppose." Laurie grinned modestly.

"You've made your point," he confessed. "Just promise me that we can be asleep when the fleet divides. That way I don't have to think about it until it's done."

"Promise," she replied. "We can even make love if you'd like? Lord knows that afterwards you fall asleep just like a baby."

Cooper looked into her thought-provoking eyes.

"Deal."

Extending his arm, he planned to seal the deal.

"A handshake? Really?" Laurie asked. "Are we lawyers or lovers here?"

Moments later, the two young lovers kissed with undeniable passion.

"You understand the mission?" their lieutenant asked.

Rhino and Glitter fully understood. They'd take a single phantom out into the black of space and do something other pilots had been doing all week long. Search for water.

When Craig Banks signed up for the military as a teen, he had no idea that within a few years' time, humanity would hang in the balance of a mission he was in charge of. Flying the newest ship in the fleet was added incentive. It was a stealth ship, though very small and designed very similar to a chopper on the inside. Instrument panels and a cockpit, that's about it. It would be hard to execute the mission, given the company. He wasn't sure taking his eyes off of Anna, codename Glitter, was even possible.

They'd flown together countless times, though it had been done within the confines of single occupant Swordfish fighter jets. Side by side. This was different. They would finally be inside of the same ship and in close quarters at that. He would surely smell her perfume and it'd certainly be much harder to hide his feelings.

The phantom was just that. Invisible. At least by the standards of current radar equipment in the fleet. It was capable of deep space flight and had been designed for extended trips, at least if you believed what the manual said. It had never actually been put to the test. Just a small and comfortable ship with a single bunk in its rear.

That spelled disaster for Craig when it came to his longtime crush, Anna. He'd never spoken to her of his feelings, and didn't plan on starting now. Not at the end of the world. That would have to wait, but it would be tough.

The phantom was also packed out with mapping equipment and anything else that would help the fleet locate needed supplies. It was essentially a probe taking off into uncharted space that would return under the direction of two solid pilots.

"Commander James wishes to extend good luck to you both, and regrets not being able to send you off personally." the lieutenant added.

_Yea, I bet he does. Probably one of those pencil pushers who has never even seen action._ Anna thought.

Several of the fleet's marines stood firm. A sendoff that almost made the two pilots feel as though it were a suicide mission. Two short range Swordfish fighter jets also stood by as well. Their escort into the unknown of space.

They would enter uncharted black at the upper-eastern portion of what was the Skyla System. Ronica would still within sight, though barely. A planet that was largely considered the origin of the virus which had overrun their universe with sprinting dead.

As Rhino and Glitter walked slowly up the ramp which led to the interior of their phantom craft, Craig looked back for a moment. Soaking up the familiar surroundings of the interior around them. Vacant ships being repaired as brilliant welding sparks flew about. Mechanical Goliath units patrolling and several deckhands looking on. A lull of chatter that carried throughout the large war ship. The sounds of the everyday activities of thousands, as well as the huge mechanical gears which turned in the ship's engine room.

"Wonder what they'll say at our memorial service?" Anna asked with a grin.

"Not even funny." Craig replied, turning to enter the ship with hesitation. Pressing a large red button near the ramp which sealed their door airtight.

"Hey, at least you are in good company. Right?" she asked.

Anna had no idea how true her statement was. Craig would have turned down the mission if paired with anyone else, and still nearly declined it. He'd put in a lot of missions up to this point. War missions. But this was a brand new ballgame for him. They had a better chance of being lost than they did of finding water. Once outside of charted space, the ship's navigational system would have no bearings. The phantom's interface wouldn't know the direction or distance they had travelled. Nothing. Any sense of direction would be gone and their only hopes of returning to the fleet would be to follow their own flight path from memory.

A trip into nowhere and everywhere, all at once. Doing so beside the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. Just the sound of Anna's voice was enough to convince him that she was indeed his soul mate of fate.

"Phantom One, you have the runway." the fleet's traffic controller advised.

Those words cemented the fact that there was no getting out of it. It was a done deal now, no matter the result.

Moments later, the runway that led directly to the large door which opened into space began to light up. First, the runway itself started glowing with a bit of light blue, followed by flashing red arrows lining both sides of their path. The typical layout for a ship this size.

"Copy that tower. We have the runway." Glitter replied.

It was the first time Rhino could remember clinching his fists tightly before taking on a flight. Usually barking metal from the runway as he pushed hard into space. This time, however, Craig had a legitimate fear. The unknown.

He seemed comfortable in the face of combat. Ships spewing fire into his direction while thrusting at top speed. This was entirely different. It was entirely possible that the mission ahead would be filled with absolutely nothing. Returning them home, should they be lucky enough, with no results of water. They could also return with news of ice rich planets spread across uncharted space as far as the eyes could see. The again, they could not return home at all. To Craig, that was a far worse fate than dying in battle.

The slightest ship malfunction would strand them in uncharted space. Making them next to impossible to rescue. Hell, truth be known, there would likely be no rescue mission at all. They'd be written off as lost.

First out where the two escort fighters, which would tag along until the end of charted space. Their presence there was a precaution as nobody knew where the vampires were among the stars. The phantom class ship had technology to map every bit of information the fleet would need, though it would need to return before the data could be decoded. What the phantom _didn't_ have was any weaponry on board.

Glitter pulled gently on the stick as the phantom lifted from the deck, making almost no noise as it lifted higher and began to rock forward.

"How are we looking?" she asked.

"Great. Everything is looking great," Rhino replied, checking the instrument panel which lay in front of him. Illuminated green specks alerting on a bright screen of rich blue. "Engines, hull integrity and oxygen levels all look good."

"Good luck Phantom One." the tower said, wishing the brave crew of two well.

With a nod of her head, Glitter glanced around for a final look. The sights within the larger ship was her definition of home. Moments later, Phantom One was hauling ass without holding back. Trailing only the two escort fighters as the large ship they'd been docked in only moments before zoomed away and become another speck of light in an otherwise magnificent backdrop of stars.

"Nothing," one of the soldiers replied, finally easing off of his battle rifle. "But they've been here."

Adam Michaels knelt down to sift through the wood of a campfire which had burned days before. Sifting through half-scorched logs and ago while doing so in hopes that he wouldn't collapse with emotional pain.

Indeed the vampires had camped the spot recently. Everything about the camp site was consistent with their warriors. The same boot prints and the fact that the logs had been placed in a certain pattern. It was a mark of the vampire.

Adam had searched for his son for nearly a year. Resting very little and hoping with each planet that he'd find hope. They had picked up the trail of Hunters weeks before, tracking them to the remote forests of Lylia. A small planet known for rainfall, dense forests and not much else aside from a handful of infected dead.

The population of Lylia before the plague broke humanity was nearly sixty-thousand. That meant a lot of infected lived on this small rock, and Adam had no plans of sticking around and waiting for them. Every second spent here chasing a cold trail was a second away from his son Avery.

"I'm sorry." the soldier added. Speaking what was on the face of nearly a dozen of the best soldiers Commander James could spare at the moment.

"Where would someone go from here if they meant to survive?" Adam asked. Nodding his head in acknowledgement of the soldier's statement.

"Given our location, sir, I would believe either Radilia or Turmok. I would think that even for vampires, fuel would be a top concern. They'd need to find something with enough resources to fill their needs." the group's scout replied.

"And you're sure?" Adam asked.

"I'm sure it's one of the two, yes," the scout replied, looking at his map of the Skyla System with deep concentration. "They are the only two locations that make sense. Radilia is a small planet used for farming prior to all of this and Turmok was industrialized. Plenty of resources on both, and probably plenty of infected as well. Hasn't seemed to bother the Hunters so far. And the rest of the planets nearby are out of their reach with a single flight or are simply floating rocks."

Adam began to think long and hard. Remembering a Sarah Blaine he once loved, not the vampire she'd become. He essentially had a fifty-fifty chance of finding his son. Adam had no idea how tough it would be to get Avery back, but he had to try. Die trying even, if it came to that.

He remembered a time when the original Gunship had crash landed. Falling luckily into a field near a simple farming community. Adam remembered how at peace Sarah felt at that time, and couldn't imagine her wanting to be anywhere else. Especially not a planet that was vastly industrialized.

"Sarah is in Radilia." Adam finally stated.

"How can you be sure?" the scout asked as Adam stood back to his feet.

"Because I know her well enough," Adam replied. "She also knows I do. I'd bet everything that she's expecting us."

Moments before he took the stage, Dalton read over a piece of paper that had been neatly typed. It wasn't a prepared speech, they weren't his style Instead, it was a covert message letting him know that 47,312 souls had successfully drifted away from the fleet, with his permission, in the deep of night. Just as had been discussed, they'd taken with them a resource ship, a military ship, a government affairs ship, a cargo ship and two civilian ships. They had left under the conditions that, should the fleet ever find them again, they would fall back into line beneath Colonial laws – no exceptions. Otherwise, those who'd left had done so with the freedom to start over however they saw fit.

That many lives gone would eventually be noticed, but it would take time. Dalton would deal with the questions later. Right now, as he lit his windproof lighter and began burning the sheet of paper to dispose of the evidence, a grin brimmed from beneath his beard. Moments later, he took the podium which stood inside of a large cargo hold aboard the God of War.

"People of the fleet." Dalton said with hesitation in his voice.

Hundreds of survivors had gathered and were sitting, while the speech was also being streamed in video to ships around them. "I'm here to address our situation and what the future may hold."

Pausing at such anticipated words, Dalton's hand shook a bit. Nerves that were easily consoled with a mere glance to his lover, Cambria.

"Moments ago, a small ship and its crew left to explore the clutches of uncharted space around us. We've deemed it _Operation Phantom_ and the mission is to explore deep black frontier that, up until now, lay unexplored. I await their return and the information they bring back with them. At which time we will begin down one of two roads," Dalton said firmly. "If word of resources is their findings, the fleet will indeed journey into the black as originally planned. However, if they return with news of no resources close by, I cannot go through with a plan that could send us to our graves."

His statement brought chaos to the crowd. Mixed emotions as many were ready to leave now, while others agreed with his reasoning.

A bit of shouting ensued. Some of it directed towards Dalton, though much of it exchanged between members of the crowd. Each of them disagreeing with the future moves of the fleet and its survivors.

"Please," he said, hushing the crowd a bit as he spoke firmly into a microphone. "There was a time when I would have left this system high and dry for no other reason than the damned adventure of it all," Dalton admitted. "But that was before I found myself with the responsibility of so many lives. So many children counting on me to make the right decision. If we have hope out there in the black, we'll run to it. If not, we'll prepare to fight the nation of infected down below."

His plans drew several loud jeers and thunderous booing, though it seemed to affect him very little.

"If it comes to that, any of you are welcome to tuck tail and run. I won't stop you, I'll even help you pack your shit," Dalton said with an irritated demeanor. "That's a promise."

"Alright, alright," Doctor Arness said, quickly stepping onto the stage to usher Dalton away from the microphone. "Our commander is obviously under a lot of stress, I apologize," he added. "We'll release an official statement later today."

The crowd seemed in disarray, as if a wrestling match had broken loose. Though the marines would see them to the hangar bay exits, one way or another.

Dalton quickly met back up with Cambria as they made their way under a heavy escort of soldiers back into the executive portion of the ship. A big part of him cheered for the small fleet which had just departed in secret. He found himself wishing that he'd been on the damn thing. Dalton would have taken adventure over politics anyday.

Chapter 2

### Political Intervention

"Are you trying to start a revolt among the people?" Arness asked loudly, following Dalton through a narrow hallway which led to the commander's quarters.

He'd always been very thin, yet rather asserting. In his own mind, Arness felt robbed of the proverbial crown that Dalton now wore. He was supposed to be the fleet's commander, not some beer-swigging caveman.

"Officer," Dalton said, pointing to one of the guards which stood by his doorway. "Get this gentleman out of my face."

The marine was quick about it. Not surprising, considering the amount of respect Dalton had with most of the military men under his command. Where Arness was politically smart, Dalton had fought the wars of history with his own two hands. Pointing his rifle into the general direction of the doctor in order to march him away, the soldier nodded his respect to the man who now led the fleet.

"You cannot stop the inevitable Commander James. Sooner or later there will be a struggle for power among this fleet!" the doctor yelled with anger.

"You best hope there ain't. You might just wind up on the wrong end of the whipping stick." Dalton said with a scowl. His thick beard parted like a sea of stubbled hair, giving way to a devious grin of half-white teeth.

"This is as far as we go Phantom One. Don't forget about us." one of the swordfish pilots jested as both fighter jets turned sharply. There was a moment of near silence as the narrow ships changed directions, once again firing thrusters, which sounded like tactical explosions against the quiet of space. Hitting full-burn, they set to return back to the God of War.

"Oh they're hilarious." Anna commented.

"Yea." Craig replied as he continued to run schematics. Mapping the area around them as best he could with the ship's navigational equipment..

"You're awful quiet, what's up?" Anna asked.

He wanted to just spill it out. How he'd been madly in love with her since their trip through the academy together. How so many nights he'd lay awake, thinking of her every detail. Brilliant eyes that sparkled like popping diamonds. Her smile. Her damn infectious smile. Anna was the perfect example of beautiful, in his opinion, with the cutest dimples he'd ever seen and sandy blonde hair that demanded thought. Though, for the sake of travel, he'd planned to keep his thoughts private.

"Ah, you know. Just trying to grasp that we are the first ones to explore beyond this area. Ever."

"Pretty exciting, huh?" Anna asked.

"Yea. I guess so." Craig replied.

"Wow. You seem _really_ excited."

"Na, it's just that I'm hoping for a quick find so we can get back home." he replied.

"We don't have a home to go back to." Anna commented.

"This much is true." he replied with a grin.

"I mean, is my company _really_ that bad? I'll try to make it as painless as possible." she said with a giggle.

"No it isn't," Craig said. "Anyone who says otherwise will have to answer to me... Assuming we find our way back."

His reply brought a warm smile to Anna's face.

In fact, his quick wit usually did. She'd been completely and madly in love with Craig since their very first encounter. Before he even spoke a word. He'd misplaced his military sack and frantically searched for it. Even from across the large cargo hold which had served as their training quarters, she saw truth. Anna had caught a mere glance of him and been immediately struck with that lightning bolt. He wasn't the typical broad-shouldered soldier, but that wasn't what she'd hoped for. An honest man who couldn't find his bag full of military issued clothes would do just fine. _If_ she ever found the courage to admit her feelings.

Her excitement soon faded, however, as reality set in a bit. They were in a tin can of a ship surrounded by floating planets and rocks as far as the eye could see. Even farther when it came to their digital mapping equipment. It was as if they were in a small lifeboat floating through an endless see of peril in search for hope that would likely never show itself.

Up until now, no others had seen the clusters of planets which surrounded them. Truly a first in flight for the humans among the Skyla System. For all of their firepower and technology, the unknown of deep black space presented most among their race with fear.

If zombies existed in the outskirts of their star system and vampires on the home planet of Ronica, what perils could possibly await them in uncharted space? The dangers of falling flat on fuel or food reserves and dying in the black were also on their minds.

With plenty of resources and terrain to expand, there had never been a need to continue to explore. The Skyla System in itself was huge. Some had suggested journeying into the unkown over the years, but it made absolutely no sense when it came to the financial aspect of things. Up until the plague of man, they'd had plenty of room to spare.

In its prime, the Skyla System took nearly a full week to fly through. That was in the fastest of ships and travelling at full-burn, or max speed and it was only in theory as they'd yet to invent a ship that held that much fuel. The mighty fleet they'd been left with in the end relied on solar power as its primary source and, while it worked – solar power was a much slower means of flying. Fossils got you from point A to B a hell of a lot faster, but took up plenty of room. Building a ship large enough just wasn't feasible. If a person wanted to get from one end to another when it came to the Skyla System, they needed to stop a handful of times and many small fuelling moons prospered because of it.

The remaining humans had mounted one last stand, which failed miserably. The infected had overrun them quickly. Their only option had been reduced to jumping onto the remaining ships and getting into orbit to regroup, which they had done. The fleet was comprised of hundreds of ships, most of which were much smaller than a warship and in need of major repairs. Clunkers, by all definitions. They'd taken any ship they could find in an act of desperation. It was as if the Skyla System were a sinking ship with a handful of precious lifeboats to be had.

Since hitting orbit, the fleet had been in disagreement on many issues, but one had come to the forefront very quickly. What would they do now?. Journey into the unknown black of uncharted space or stay close to home and reclaim what was theirs.

Commander Dalton James had never seen himself in charge of so many lives. He'd lived by the seat of his pants and made questionable choices along the way. Often times, he'd failed at sneaking out of a local woman's house in the middle of the night during his rendition of the _walk of_ shame. Now he was responsible for every beating heart that had survived the plague.

Dalton had, however, made the safest choice possible this time around. Send a craft into the unknown and look around. If resources that could support an entire race were to be had, they'd quickly relocate. But if the scouting mission showed no signs of hope, what choice did they have? It would be a matter of reclaiming their homes or die trying.

"It's kind of strange looking onto all of these new planets." Craig admitted.

"Absolutely," Anna replied. "They look so beautiful. At the same time, who knows what may be lurking on each one?"

"Damn sure isn't water," Craig said with a chuckle. "I'm not showing any signs of oxygen either. I guess we keep going."

So they did. The small phantom and its pitch black appearance gliding through uncharted space and pinging each of the planets which passed them by with a wave of technology that mapped everything. Terrain, viable resources, temperatures and even heat sources. Sources, which would indicate possible life.

Adam sat quietly, thinking of his past as the small shuttle filled with tactical soldiers made its way. Coasting through the familiar stars of the Skyla System.

He thought of much happier times. His crew of old and their clunker of a ship. It brought happiness to him for a moment as memories of barely holding the ship together seemed like a calm time in his life.

They had been anything but. Thoughts of gunfights and escaping the clutches of ruthless gangs, all in pursuit of a paycheck. Following service in the military, Adam and Dalton had put together a crew of their most trusted friends and began a life of crime. Though Adam never saw it that way.

For him it was a chance to be a ship's captain. Something he'd always wanted to be. A dream in which he saw come true, though the ship was borderline salvage and its crew was, for better terms, a pack of outcast misfits. Originally, he'd not taken to Dalton. The man seemed irresponsible to him. As time went on, however, Adam had seen a very important trait in the man who reeked of stale smoke and aged whiskey. _Loyalty_. He soon found that he could trust the slightly bigger (and hairier) man, which suited him just fine.

One by one, the crew members had become like family to Adam and you never forget the times spent with family.

Adam remembered the very first time he laid eyes on Sarah Blaine. The circumstances were terrible – her delivery to a group of organized crime members would bring the Gunship crew some much needed money.

At least it should have.

He knew right away that he'd scoop Sarah up and run. Adam had always been a sucker for the ladies, but, as if it were only yesterday, he thought about how intoxicating their first moments together were. Beneath her flawless looks was a person who needed help and he'd always felt the need to help others.

Adam did just that. Bolted from the deal and went on the run, Sarah Blaine at his side and a wily crew at their backs. Eventually the two fell in love on the eve of civil war, and Adam found himself engaged to the daughter of a high-ranking Colonial officer. A man of true integrity.

Soon after, their love began to sour. As thriving as their romance had been, the fallout was just as strong. When it came down to it, he'd chosen his friends over the most explosive romance he'd ever known.

Events began to unfold and Sarah found herself in the clutches of evil. Turned to the legion of undead and rising to become the queen of vampires, a champion by her side. She'd blamed Adam for every bit of it, and at times he'd blamed himself. Though he would never admit to it. He'd found that as much as he wanted to – he could no longer help her.

The thing about soul mates is their paths continue to cross, no matter the circumstances. And cross they did. On opposite sides of a war between human and vampire as the fleet scrambled to assemble. Preparing to leave for orbit.

The horde of undead had overrun humanity and became too powerful for even the vampires to survive, forcing the Hunters to retreat as well.

In doing so, Sarah took the one thing Adam had continued to live for. His son.

Adam hated himself for the fact that he continued to care for Sarah Blaine deeply, even under the circumstances. He wanted his son back, and that was a top priority. Deep down, however, he had remained madly in love with the woman who had captivated his heart long ago. Circumstances of life had torn them apart.

The soldiers travelling with him were among the fleet's finest. Yet, deep down, Adam knew they wouldn't stand a chance against the Hunters. A race of vampires known for their brutality and lack of conscience.

He'd have to appeal to Sarah directly. Plead with her heart and pray that a love which had changed both of them forever would be enough. His words would be a far greater weapon than the revolver he'd become so famous for.

"You alright?" one of the soldiers asked as the shuttle streaked by a bright cluster of small rocks. Bright yellows and oranges illuminated the inside of their chopper for several moments, which broke Adam from his thoughts.

"Yea," Adam replied. "Just something about travelling through space that makes me think about everything. It's always been that way for me."

"Same here buddy," the young soldier replied. "Believe it or not, I had plans to retire from combat and go out on my own. Maybe put together a crew of buddies and start hauling freight commercially. Sounds crazy."

"Nope," Adam replied, beginning to see himself in the young soldier a bit. Remembering the time when he had the same ambitions. A moment that would lead up to the best years of his life. "Sounds perfect."

"Well, it's a pipe dream now that we're overrun and without a home." the soldier replied. He continued to talk, though Adam seemed to fade away from the conversation.

His mind had travelled back to better times. Remembering the poker games and nights of drinking with Dalton. Adam thought of Kelly, his pilot, and other friends he'd lost along the way. Wondering how it had come to this. Surrounded by strangers and missing a son. His wife slain by the undead and a woman he once loved, now holding the keys to the next chapter in his life by way of his son.

Nothing in his life seemed to be the same, and Adam truly longed for those days to return. Although he knew there was no going back.

"Relax dear, you're overreacting." Cambria said, pressing against her lover's shoulders in an attempt to ease them.

"I'm telling you," Dalton replied as Cambria worked to calm him. "I'm not cut out for this commander shit."

"I disagree." she said convincingly.

"Of all the soldiers here, I get handpicked to lead the fleet. Why? Why me? What did I do?"

"You make it sound as though it's a burden." Cambria said, walking away a bit to collect two much needed glasses and a bottle of strong bourbon.

"It is," Dalton lashed out. "It's a damn burden from the time I wake up until the time I pass out at night. This song and dance of an officer, it ain't me. Takes everything I have to be all proper and fitting."

"Then don't be all proper and fitting," Cambria said, handing the commander a stiff glass of hootch. "When I first met you, I had no idea what you were capable of. To be honest, you looked homeless."

"This is supposed to make me feel better?" Dalton asked.

"Yes," she replied with a grin. "Because as I quickly got to know you, I realized you just didn't care about the opinions of others. I also felt safe around you because I understood you had the experience of ten men and knew how to use it. You took no lip and spoke your peace, no matter the company. And you cared about those around you."

Dalton began to slowly grasp her words. Though filling his glass was a bit more bourbon was also on his mind.

"The point I'm trying to make is this. Don't let a uniform or the rules that go along with it change who you are. The best way to convince these people to follow you is to be yourself. People will respect you for it, and my guess is that's what got you picked in the first place. Be yourself. That's the man these people _need_."

"I guess so." Dalton admitted.

"Stop being what they want you to be and start being yourself. Hell, wear regular clothes and a homemade name tag if that's what it takes."

"You know, you're kind of sexy when you're lecturing me." Dalton said with a grin.

"Kind of?" Cambria asked.

"Well yea, the kind of woman I'd like to get in the sack." he quickly replied.

"It depends." Cambria said.

"It depends?"

"Yes," Cambria replied. "It depends on the man I'm sleeping with. Is he going to be the trim and proper leader of humanity that decks out in Colonial blue...or will it be the old hound dog that's seen it all, done it all and sure does know his way around a bedroom?"

His glance back to Cambria let her know the old hound dog was back. For better or worse, he'd lead these people with a clinched fist, brown coat across his back and whiskey on his breath. After he took care of business behind closed doors.

"We need thicker doors." one of the posted soldiers remarked as Dalton and Cambria became loud and freakish. The door and walls separating him from the two makers of love were seemingly very paper thin.

"Just ignore it." the other guard replied, though he understood it was going to be hard to do. The two had sex multiple times each day and weren't exactly quiet about it. Something that would no doubt lead to a lifetime of therapy for the posted guards.

Craig found it hard to do his job as Anna slept, watching over her with a peaceful smile and thinking of the years he'd spent with her.

His love for Anna had grown since leaving nearly a day before. Now sharing the experience of a lifetime with the woman he'd fallen for in flight school.

Still, Craig had a job to do. Pressing several buttons as the phantom floated lifelessly, he began mapping all of the stars around them. For concentration of rock, possibility of water and presence of oxygen.

The mission was a simple one. Burst into full-burn for nearly an hour, which surrounded their ship with new stars. Then shut the ship down to conserve fuel while mapping everything digitally. What the phantom brought in terms of stealth, it lacked in size. That meant a shorter fuel tank, though it had been modified for this mission. Still, fuel was an issue early on and in order for the two person crew to make it as far as possible before turning back, they had to maximize fuel economy.

He mapped the surrounding planets, though Craig's attention remained on Anna. Pressing the required buttons and letting the on board computers do the rest as he leaned back in the cushioned chair and watched her. Resting easy on the phantom's rack-style bed which mounted to the rear of the shuttle.

He wanted to wake her up and confess his love. Craig could only begin to imagine how long the trip home would be if Anna didn't feel the same for him. There was no way he wanted to be floating through uncharted space with a woman who felt awkward around him.

If he would speak his peace, Craig would need to do it on the flight back. Once the work had been completed and he'd nothing to lose. A little humiliation, perhaps, but that was only in rejection and would certainly heal with time.

For the moment, Craig would remain focused on the job at hand. Tens of thousands of people back in the fleet depended upon him doing his job – on the two of them to find water. His personal feelings for a sleeping angel would have to wait.

Though waiting was killing him.

"Lieutenant Michaels," one of the soldiers said, nudging Adam a bit. "Were making our approach now."

Adam sat up, squeezing his eyes a bit with rested hands as he looked out of the small window placed in the crew area of the Colonial chopper.

"Go in loud. It should draw Sarah and her group to our position." Adam instructed.

Radilia. A small moon planet known for its simple way of life and farming communities that lived here. _Used_ to live here, before the infectious zombie nation overtook everything.

Now Adam truly wondered what dangers awaited his crew. He wanted to find his son. Tracking the Hunters had proved more difficult than he could have imagined. Adam only hoped that pleading his heart to Sarah, queen of vampires, would prove a bit easier. A [art of him knew it wouldn't.

He prayed that one way or the other, it ended today, on this small moon planet of blue and brown swirls – seen by the entire crew as their approach brought them closer. Magnifying the planet's textures and soon after, becoming larger than their field of vision. Wondering where he'd go from here if his son was not to be found. Another lead turning cold, as did many before. The men had accompanied him under orders, but he couldn't expect them to continue searching forever. If this trail turned cold, he'd likely return to the fleet, fetch his own ship and begin searching on his own. Adam would _never_ abandon the search for his son.

"What are you orders sir?" the pilot asked.

"Once we hit soil, we'll break into two teams. Three of you will come with me while the rest stay close to the shuttle. We can't afford to lose our one and only ride off of this rock."

"Understood."

Regardless of what they said to his face, none of the crew wanted to come along with him and lose sight of their shuttle. They knew if any of them were to become stranded, there was a possibility of no rescue. Ever. The fleet had its own problems and Adam's mission was pretty much off of the books. They hadn't come along voluntarily.

"Rio, Hawk and Jackson, you three will be with me." Adam said.

_Fuck._ Rio thought, cursing the mission and everything about it. Just as he'd done since departing the fleet days ago.

He was a great shot, no doubt, but should they become surrounded by vampires or infected, his battle rifle would be of little use and he knew it.

As the shuttle touched down, shaking the crew a bit more than the pilot had hoped for; Adam prepared for anything. Armed with a six-shooter revolver, which he'd become famous for among those around him, he glanced out into the rolling hills of thick foliage around them.

Many of the soldiers within the crew wondered about a man who brushed aside automatic weaponry as Adam did. Gravity fed magazine firing, which could have easily produced several hundred rounds a minute.

Not Adam, it wasn't his way. He didn't spray and pray. Adam was a soldier who had been trained to question everything, seek answers and, if need be, skin the iron horse revolver from its holster and bring closure.

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 of the ship. Anything but new, Dalton's boots showed a map of use and 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 peeked through brown leather and spoke of a time when free men fought the system. It was a 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. Before we proceed, I need to know that you're with me until the end?" Dalton said loudly, grabbing the full attention of the crewmen around him.

"Yes sir." one of them boldly replied. Not daring to question him – simply acknowledging they were listening. They had his back.

"Just so y'all know, I let a small group of 6 ships leave out for the black yesterday. I kept it under wraps because I didn't want to cause panic in the fleet. Nevertheless, I wanted you to know. It was their will to leave and I made sure they had everything they need. Now, on to business. These coordinates," Dalton said, slapping a piece of small paper down onto 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. Pass it along. Anyone who wants to leave out instead of fight, well, they're free to do so. Just make sure they leave out as a group so they stand a chance out in the black."

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 soldiers 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 grow some balls 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. She could already hear the change in his voice.. "Early this morning, I dispatched a settlement team to a planet we've always known as Kyuly. The purpose of their trip is 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 had 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 a handful of ships and enough supplies to get you as far away from here as you want to go. You have my word. As it stands, I've already let one group go in the middle of the night. They're well on their way as far as uncharted space goes."

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 entered 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 in the fight...and who's loading up their shit to hit the bricks."

Chapter 3

The Search Ends

"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 absolutely 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 could hear gunshots firing throughout his ship. Reports of similar firefights taking place throughout the fleet started to come in.

"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. They're free to leave if they'd like to. Make sure they have enough to eat and plenty of fuel, but we'll need most of the weapons to take our homes back. Leave 'em with the bare minimum. Once a separate ship is filled with nothing but soldiers who want to fight for our homes, send them down to Second Glimmeria. Let 'em know that our record books will one day speak of it."

"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 has been since we took orbit. I don't plan to hold anyone here against their will. 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. About two-thousand soldiers ready to raise some hell, sir." one of the crewmen said.

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

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. Slowly finding its bearings, the large ship's thruster turned bright orange and blasted away from them with unbelievable quickness.

It would be 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. As promised, a small fleet had been allowed to form and they would soon carry away anyone who was apposed to another war against the infected. They would soon enough venture out into the void black of uncharted space.

The history of what had been dubbed "Second Glimmeria" 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 for anyone who made the trip.

It had seldom been used because there was a wealth of locations to choose from before the infection began. Its location had suggested to Dalton by the Husk, as Kyuly had long been thought of highly by the larger alien race.

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 dragged 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. He always had. Having this many people looking to him for answers was a double-edged sword. It had its advantages, but it brought a lot of stress to the man who had been accustomed to living on his own terms.

"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 was 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 travelled nearly three days they'd successfully covered more miles than any other scouting ship.

"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 earlier 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. That or they've already been stripped of resources by someone else. The _real_ 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., you never know."

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 the beautiful young woman sitting only feet from him. His heart was 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.

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. Sometimes loss in enormous amounts can change a person.

"Sarah, I just want to talk."

The rasping tone of her unexpected voice made each soldier clench their weapons tightly out of reflex.

"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 and authoritive 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.

"Put 'em down." Adam insisted, turning to ask his men to lay down their weapons.

Several of them seemed hesitant, but understood that being outnumbered by the Hunters meant almost certain death either way.

So, in the following moments they did as Adam asked. Laying weapons down onto the cold soil with caution.

"Yours too." a Hunter Elite demanded.

"Not until I see my son." Adam replied sternly.

"I should gut you like a cowardly dog for refusing my demands." the elite snarled, prepared to draw his blade and do just as he said.

"You'll find this dog has a bite." Adam cautioned.

"Enough!" Sarah yelled, walking from the darkness and into the flickering light of the campfire.

The former lovers began to make eye contact. Each feeling the other out a bit as it had been a long time.

"Where's my son?" Adam asked.

"First, you need to remove your sidearm Adam. You'll see Avery soon enough. You have my word." Sarah replied.

"Now lapdog!" the elite yelled in taunting fashion.

Adam did as she asked. Slowly unbuckling his holster and never losing eye contact with the elite. Wanting so badly to end the beast's taunting once and for all.

Easing down, Adam laid his holster to the soil. Pistol still inside of the brown leather fittings.

"That's a good boy." the elite said.

"Friend," Adam warned. "If you speak on business that doesn't concern you again, I _will_ kill you," he said. "I may die in the process of doing so, but I promise. I will kill you."

"How do you plan to do that, you scrawny little..." the elite had started to ask. His life ended by the clawed hands of his queen. Piercing nails mauling though the skin of his throat.

"SILENCE!" she warned. Prepared to kill anyone else that interrupted a moment she'd long waited for.

The Hunters fell to complete silence, as did the marines who stood behind their lieutenant and his look of emptiness.

"Bring the boy." Sarah demanded.

Another vampire led Avery out of the shadows and into the flickering light of campfire.

Avery had grown to the age of walking, though barely. As Adam began to cry, outstretching his arms for the embrace of his son, Sarah stopped the reunion short by grabbing Avery's arm and looking to Adam with warning.

"That's far enough."

"Sarah," Adam pleaded as he continued to cry, standing to his feet and pleading with her conscience. "He's my son."

"Yes," she replied. "I also see a lot of Sasha in him. A fact that would have seen him dead a long time ago, if not for your own DNA coursing through his veins."

"Avery has no part in this. He's a child."

"He has _every_ part in this!" Sarah lashed out. "He represents a time when you and I should have been together. Instead, you found love in another."

"Listen," Adam said with a soft tone. "I admit that I have made a good many mistakes over the course of my life. Many when you and I were together. I take full responsibility for everything. I'm just asking that you let Avery walk away from all of this. He is innocent, I am not. I'll do anything to let him walk away from this safely."

"Anything?" Sarah asked. "Interesting."

"You will pay for this Dalton James!" Doctor Arness yelled. Held in shackles and broadcasting to the ship's bridge by way of video.

"People like you have killed the freedom we once had," Dalton replied. "The only regret I have is not leaving you down on Ronica and bringing along someone who could have been a bit more helpful."

"You would throw us onto the Sky Giant like rats on a sinking ship and wish us into the unknown of space! Even now I bet there is whiskey on your breath!" the doctor replied.

"That, sir, is a winning bet," Dalton admitted. "I'm not throwing you anywhere. You said you wanted to go, I'm simply helping you carry your ass. You and anyone blind enough to buy into your bullshit."

Though Doctor Arness was furious, he was a good enough politician to understand that he now held the losing hand. Calming his voice, he began to plead with Commander Dalton James for leniency.

"Just hear me out. Please," the doctor said. "There are seven-hundred souls aboard this ship. You've given us plenty of supplies, as promised, but you and I both know this ship will not stand the test of time out there in the black. This is a death sentence."

"I've been saying that for nine fucking months now," Dalton answered with aggravation. "A man would have to be a hopeless dreamer or a fool to venture out into the unknown of space when we know exactly what's down below."

"Please, just forget our past and allow this ship...these families...the promise of safe harbor on Second Glimmeria." the doctor asked.

"Done," Dalton replied. "For anyone who wants to stay, that is."

As much as he despised Doctor Arness, it was a move that may have saved hundreds of innocent people in the end. A win in Dalton's book of whiskey-littered compassion. The fleet would splinter once more and ships would leave into uncharted space. There was no doubt about it. Still, Arness staying behind could have convinced others to do the same.

"Lieutenant Bowers," Dalton said, now speaking to the commanding officer aboard the Sky Giant. "Doctor Arness has requested that he be allowed to stay behind. It seems he's scared of change. Tell the folks aboard your vessel that they're free to do the same with no questions asked. Get me a list and I'll arrange it. In the meantime, I'll see to it that you're joined by a handful of ships to make the journey. Six of them total, just as before. _You_ will assume command of your coming pilgrimage. I trust you with the lives of regular folks."

"Understood, sir." Captain Bowers replied. Firming his stance a bit and saluting the commander who'd just promoted him.

"We're going to hang out here and await word from our phantom team. Once they're home we'll be joining the remaining survivors on Second Glimmeria. We'll rebuild as best we can and then wage war against the infected, one planet at a time." Dalton said firmly.

"Understood sir."

"You take care of whatever people follow you into the black," Dalton demanded. "They might not want war, but it doesn't make 'em any less important. You see to it that they're treated fairly and I wish you the best of luck."

"I appreciate that, sir," Captain Bowers replied with honesty. "You have my word. Everyone who makes this trip will be treated properly."

As the video conference sliced into black, Cambria could see a grin on Dalton's face.

"What is it dear?" she asked.

"Ah, nothing much. Just remembering a time when I got promoted on the fly. Now here I am, promoting some other half-deserving son of a bitch."

"Good times?" Cambria asked.

"Some of the best. I was surrounded by friends and had a dog watching my back."

When he wasn't drinking all my damn whiskey.

"Go!" Craig yelled in desperation.

"I'm pushing her as hard as she'll go," Anna cried out. "We're still losing ground!"

As the full burn of the phantom's thrusters spewed wildly, Anna was right. Their exploration craft was indeed losing a race for survival.

They had picked up radiation signatures while exploring uncharted space – which led to a long-distance affair. The two members of the phantom had prayed that the destroyer class ships hadn't see them.

Instead, they had watched the fleet of unidentified ships suddenly change direction and begin flying into the phantom's direction. Setting off panic and desperation as both Craig and Anna turned to begin sprinting home. Unsure of their ability to make it back while using a full-burn of the engines without stopping to rest.

"They're about a half-day's flight behind us but closing fast." Craig said.

He operated the computer systems as Anna continued to push the shuttle to its max speed. Feeling as though she were whipping at a flock of tiring horses in front of a carriage.

"Grab any schematics you can from whatever the hell is chasing us down. Just in case we do make it back somehow." Anna said.

"Can't pick up anything at this range. Just movement, and it's fast. Has to be ships of some kind."

"How many?" Anna asked.

"Hard to say," Craig admitted. "The blips are coming in randomly because of distance. At least three that I've seen, maybe more."

Anna knew it to be a fact. They'd never make it back to the fleet in time. They were going to be riding the line on fuel; their shuttle was burning it up faster than had been planned, and there was a good chance that whatever was behind them would catch up to their position before any sort of return.

"Anna." Craig said.

"What is it?" she asked, keeping her eyes to the frontier of rocks and bright lights of space in front of them.

"I love you."

"Huh?" she asked with surprise.

"Always have." Craig added.

"Yes," Anna replied, now splitting her thoughts between love and survival. "Thank you Captain Obvious. It's not like I didn't know this already."

"You did?" Craig asked.

"Um, of course. What do you think I am, blind?"

"Oh."

"I'm just glad to hear you finally admit it. Even if it took the risk of coming death to get you out of your shell." Anna commented with sarcasm.

"So, now I feel like an idiot." Craig said.

"Don't," Anna said. "It's not one sided, I just have my hands full up here at the moment."

"You mean?"

"Of course I feel the same way about you. How could I not? You're handsome, loyal and clueless. Kind of like that really cute puppy that every girl adores."

"A dog?" Craig questioned, the sound of their thrusters burning wildly as the shuttle moved fast.

"No," she replied. "Dogs get wet and stinky. They also piss all over the place and have been known to bite those who love them." Anna added in a very cute fashion.

"Technically, puppies piss too."

"Craig," she said. "Don't ruin it."

"So where do we go from here?" he asked.

"Well, assuming we aren't run down and slaughtered here," Anna commented. "And given the fact that the human race truly has no home," she added. "I'd settle for just meeting up for coffee one day."

"Coffee is good. I like coffee." Craig said.

"Yes, I know. We've been friends for a while now, remember?" Anna asked.

"How could I forget?" he asked. "Your sarcasm has literally kept me from going insane while dragging knuckles for our mighty fleet and its paper commander."

"I'm sarcastic?" she asked.

"Indeed you are," Craig replied. "It's one of the things I love about you.

"One of the things?" she asked. "Do tell."

"Oh shit!" Craig blasted.

Really? Is it really that much of a chore?

"Getting early readings on what's behind us."

Craig announced it, though the dinging from their computer systems also spoke the tale.

Three ships, just as Craig had suggested. Two of them coming back as unknown, while the third came back as a definitive destroyer vessel. It was unlike anything they'd seen before and was designed in strange, blade-like designs. With the thick armored plating and massive arsenal of weapons on the ship, though, it had to be a destroyer.

"Oh God." Anna said with disbelief.

"Just keep your foot on the pedal up there." Craig pleaded.

"I am. Got her running wide open. Any details on the destroyer?"

"It's not anything we've seen before," Craig said with deep curiosity. "But it's certainly a destroyer class. I'm picking up all kinds of radiation and structuring that is consistent with guns. Large guns."

"Crap." Anna said.

"Just keep on the horses up there. If these ships are as large as they look, it's going to be a race to the finish."

At least I hope so.

"It's simple Adam Michaels," Sarah said. "You want your son back and I want _you_ by my side."

"Look, I'm not saying that wouldn't be great. The truth of the matter is," Adam admitted. "I never completely got over you."

Their conversation seemed to come to a standstill as both looked into the eyes of the other. Searching their own feelings and believing in what could have been. What should have been.

"But how can that be now?" Adam finally said.

"I think you and I both know what I'm asking, Adam." Sarah replied.

And he did. Sarah's grand idea was to turn Adam and his son to the ranks of the undead. Though he understood what she asked of him, Adam's face remained blank.

"Your other option, of course, is to end this in a firefight. One in which you already know you've lost. So it's a matter of how badly you want your son back?" she asked.

"Like I said," Adam replied, looking to her with truth. "I'm willing to do anything to save my son. Anything."

"Good. We're making progress, Adam." Sarah replied, grinning a bit as razor-sharp teeth peeked from her lips.

"My men have no part in it. You need to let them go free, that's all I ask." Adam said.

"Why should I do that?" Sarah asked. "They would only strengthen my army."

"Because they have families back there waiting for them. You know the sting of losing a loved one. They're here on orders, not on free will."

" _Fine_ ," Sarah responded, though she did so with a bit of reluctantly. "They can go, but they need to go _now_."

"And I have your word they won't be harmed?" Adam questioned.

"They won't be harmed by my soldiers, no. The infected that roam free on this planet, I can make no guarantees."

"Thank you." Adam replied, taking a moment to turn. Facing his men and slowly removing the Benzan amulet which hung from his neck.

"Sir, it does not have to end this way." one of Adam's soldiers replied.

"Sure it does," Adam replied. Tossing the amulet to his second in command. "Take this back to Commander James and tell him that he'll always be my definition of a true friend. He's been like a brother to me."

"Yes sir."

"Be sure to keep your eyes and ears open on the way back." Adam added.

"You've got it sir." the soldier replied.

Moments later, the group of marines headed away from camp. Moving quickly back to the area in which they'd be able to communicate with the group holding tight at their shuttle.

"Alright Adam, I've held my end of the deal." Sarah replied.

"May I have a few moments with my son prior to?"

She searched him out. Trying to make sense of his stalling, though Sarah could never know a father's longing for a son he'd lost.

"I suppose."

"Thank you Sarah." Adam replied, kneeling down to await the embrace of his son.

Adam's hand pushed into soil that was only inches from his pistol, which remained holstered. He was fast enough to draw it, but knew the Hunters expected such a move. In fact, it was probably Sarah's reasoning for allowing him to hold his son. To test his loyalty to them by giving him a chance fight back.

He didn't. Adam simply wrapped his arms around Avery and cried a bit. Wondering if it would truly be their last moments together – alive.

"Any sign of them yet?" Cambria asked.

"Not yet." Dalton replied.

He continued to sit on the ship's bridge, which was faintly lit by a few track lights firmly planted into the room's ceiling. Two crewmen worked, doing so quietly at about thirty paces from Commander James.

It had allowed him to sit in the dark and look out across the stars. Waiting for word from his phantom group and drink whiskey in silence, though he did so sparingly. He had no desire to be drunk and in command. He sipped from the small cup here and there to knock off the nerves of his job.

"It may be time to join the rest of our people on Second Glimmeria," Cambria said. "You can leave a shuttle behind to let them know where we are as they return."

"Nope," Dalton replied. "That's not how I do things. These two soldiers put their asses on the line for me and I plan on waiting for them to get back. I don't leave people behind. Not when they put it on the line for me."

"But you wouldn't be leaving anyone behind, dear, we don't even know if they're coming..." Cambria began to reply.

"The answer is no." Dalton reaffirmed with sternness.

His harsh words led to several moments of deafening silence. Both Dalton and Cambria looking out across the stars.

"What about Adam?" she asked.

"Yep, I've heard from him and we have a plan in place." Dalton replied.

"Look, I wasn't trying to leave anyone behind alright? I'm sorry. But we honestly don't know if they'll find their way back." she admitted.

"Don't have to be sorry. I know you weren't trying to leave anyone behind. I just need you to understand that things have to run differently now. We've had too many years of leaders who cast off soldiers instead of leading by example. I _need_ to earn this respect, it can't be given. I plan to be different." Dalton admitted.

"I know you do." Cambria said with softness.

"It may seem like a small thing, waiting on these two to get back. But to them, it isn't so small. To the crewmen in and out of this bridge, it isn't so small, either. They'll all speak of it to others and that carries on down the line. It lets the grunt with a rifle in his hand know that I care about him or her as a soldier. Which I do." Dalton said.

"I know you do. You're a good man, Dalton James." Cambria said.

"Yea," he replied. "Too damn good."

"Oh really?" she asked with a grin.

"You need to know that when we get established on Second Glimmeria, I plan to hand the reigns over to someone else."

"You plan to do _what_?" Cambria asked in a very questioning tone.

"This good guy deal, it ain't me. I'd rather be knee-deep in zombies with a bottle of hootch in one hand and a shotgun in the other. I want to make sure that we get settled in nicely and that everyone is safe. Then I plan to handpick someone to take over for me."

"Dalton, you need to think about this. You have a chance to restart a civilization of people the right way."

"I'm going to start us off the right way," Dalton said, finishing off what little whiskey remained in his glass. "Then I'm going to hand the keys to people I trust and help clean this system of infected. One damn planet at a time."

"Oh."

"What's the matter?" Dalton asked.

"I just," Cambria said with a slight pause. "I just saw us getting settled in. Maybe starting a family."

Her words seemed to sting his buzz away. Something he'd thought of himself, though no man is truly ready to have that important talk about it.

"Truthfully," Dalton admitted. "I could see myself settling down with you and starting a family," he added. "But this is something I have to do first. I have to make sure the world our kids grow up in is safe."

"I understand." Cambria replied.

"It's what I do," he said. "If I send a group of soldiers out there, I can't guarantee they'll get it done. If I go out there myself, I'll find a way to get it done."

Cambria understood.

His way of life – his smuggling and putting together plans on the fly, they are one of the things she fell in love with. Dalton was like a lion who felt caged. One that smelled of liquor and lust. He was truly a good man with sincerity in his heart. He'd go a long way in ridding the system of infected, if it came to that. She trusted him. She loved him. And Cambria would follow him to the end, no matter what.

"I love you." she replied with a grin.

"I love you too, babe," Dalton said. "I'm gonna give you that life you deserve, I promise you that. I just want you to be safe when you're standing up, day after day, fixing this old hound dog meals and cleaning house."

"Oh God, really?" Cambria asked with a bit of giggling.

"Hey, if you are offering, who am I to turn it down?"

"I meant children, you lug!" she replied.

"Having children means bedding you down. I'm alright with that."

"WOW."

"Hey, I'm known for my skills when it comes to shagging." Dalton boasted.

"Dear, the term shagging died out with the first Glimmerian War. People haven't used it in years." Cambria replied.

"I coined it and I'll decide when it dies out." Dalton said with a grin as smiling lips peeking from his overgrown beard.

"You do that you old hound dog, I'm heading back to our room. I've got to get a little sleep," Cambria said. "Are these brutes that keep following me around necessary?"

"Yep," Dalton replied. "Just until we get settled in. It just takes one pissed off soldier and you in the wrong place, wrong time. I want them with you to keep you safe."

"Aw, you're such a big teddy bear." Cambria remarked. Kissing her man on the cheek and turning to exit the bridge. Two very large Husk warriors shadowing right behind her and providing a buffer of safety, if need be.

Yep. But keep it on the down low. Dalton thought. Knowing damn good and well he had a reputation to uphold.

Chapter 4

Broken Promise

"Alright Adam, it's time." Sarah said.

She stood waiting as dozens of Hunters gathered with her – the sun peaked over the mountains of the small moon. Each of them waiting to turn Adam and his son to their cause. Finally he would learn of the other side of the struggle a join a race of beings that were both clinging to a history-filled past and running just enough to stay ahead of the infected.

Standing to his feet, one arm securely wrapped around his son, Adam prepared to do the unthinkable.

"Me first," he said. "Please."

"It makes no difference." Sarah replied.

And it didn't. The young boy made no sense to her one way or another and truth be told, looked enough like his mother to push Sarah into hating him. Even now she found herself contemplating the idea of killing the boy once Adam had turned.

"It does to me," Adam said. "Many of your people have spoken to me of things they remember from their mortal lives. I do not want to carry the memory of my son being turned for the remainder of mine."

Sarah looked him over thoroughly. Trying to understand a pleading father's reasoning. It was foolish, nevertheless, it seemed rational.

"Very well."

"Thank you Sarah," he replied. "I've always loved you. I want you to know that."

"I do." she admitted.

Beginning to hold a hand to the brow of his face, lowering it a bit to display a praying cross in front of him, Adam appeared to be doing just that. Praying for forgiveness.

"Now."

As his thumb clicked a small 2-way com device, Adam knelt a bit to bow to his former lover and soon to be queen, though it would never be. With a single motion, the gunslinger grabbed his dusty iron horse from its holster and jolted up to fire a single shot.

Piercing the neck of Sarah Blaine, Queen of Vampires, he'd hit his mark on the unsuspecting creature. Rendering her, _it_ , truly dead.

Blindly firing several more shots into the crowd of Hunters who now found themselves in chaos, Adam scooped up his son and dove behind the thick of a large tree. Its trunk provided just enough cover until it was finished once and for all.

"Now, now," his second in command shouted from a distance. "Give 'em all you got!"

And they did.

The small team which had been left to guard the shuttle had went into shallow orbit under orders. Adam's plan had been to stall the Hunters long enough to allow them to get into position. As Adam pleaded through his com, the orders were relayed from his team to the team in orbit. Lead rained down from the heavens and punished what remained of the vampires.

A single shot remained in the chamber of Adam's holster as the champion smuggler cried fiercely. Part of it was a fear for his son's life – hoping the team in orbit did their job. The other part of it was the act of killing Sarah Blaine. A woman he'd once loved so very deeply. No matter what she'd become, a part of him still loved her. He'd made his choice, but would now be forced to live with it for the rest of his life.

As exploding rounds fell from pastel blue skies above, eventually thinning out, Adam could hear familiar voices around him. They were the distinct voices of team members that Dalton had hand selected to protect his best friend.

"All clear."

The Hunters were dead. Every last damn one of them.

For all of the death and destruction they'd brought humanity over the years, their reign of terror would come to an end on this battlefield of cooling embers and sunlit grass.

"Are you alright sir?"

"Who me?" Adam asked, standing to his feet – his son firmly in his arms. "Absolutely," he added. "You don't ever count Adam Michaels out."

"We have the package. Zone is all-clear," the soldier told his com device. "We are ready for extraction."

"Copy that ground team."

"Commander." A crewman said as the bridge was now filled. Every workstation was going as they continued to recognize the day and night schedule, even in deep orbit.

Dalton James read a single sheet of paper delivered to him, he began to smile wide. Knowing Adam had reclaimed his son and stuck it to the woman behind such a string of shitty luck. It was finally done.

"I never did like that bitch." he admitted.

"Sir?" one of his crewmen asked.

"Adam's mission was a success. They are heading back now. He has his son." Dalton proudly announced.

The enlisted members working on the bridge of the large ship began clapping, while Dalton settled back in a bit. Proud of his good friend Adam and finding that his lips were growing dry with the need of a stiff drink.

Then another powering need hit him. The need for sleep. Knowing Cambria was alright and things were calm on the surface, Dalton leaned back a bit to prepare himself for a nap. Even if it were in the commander's seat.

He'd slept in worse places, that was for damn sure. In dingy racks aboard ships that barely managed to hang in orbit. Dusty saloon rooms and cheap parlor houses alike. Then there were the jail cells. All of the damn jail cells. He'd always found it odd that prisoners around him would mark their days spent on the cell walls. Dalton never did. He just ate, slept and told the guards who approached him with jobs to help speed up his release to go fuck themselves in the most creative of fashions.

If Dalton had a dollar for every night he'd spent sleeping inside of a brown coat – he'd be spending a pile of money on whiskey. That was for damn sure. The comfort of brown leather across his back had been the only hotel room he'd needed, countless times over. When his legs couldn't walk any further, he'd snug the coat tight and lay across whatever ground was beneath him. Dirt. Rock. It didn't matter.

He remembered waking up to so many different faces. Women he knew, women he hated. Some of them notches for the bedpost while others were grounds to rip the bedpost off and throw it as far away as possible. He usually blamed the whiskey.

So no, Dalton had no problem sleeping in a commander's chair. His ass on fine leather in what could have doubled as an overstuffed recliner suited him just fine. As for the crewmen around him, fuck 'em. How many of them had ran from bloodthirsty vampires or fought against the Legion? He estimated none of them, based on the bad shave burns on their faces and the baby-soft cheeks on their greenhorn faces. They had no idea what his eyes had seen, nor would they. All the more reason to lean his chair back a bit and soak in as much rest as possible. His old bones would thank him later.

"Commander!" one of the crewmen yelled, waking Dalton from his slumber nearly an hour later. Both startling him and pissing the man in command off.

"What?" he grumbled.

"Phantom."

Dalton immediately jumped to his feet as if he'd never been asleep. Shaking his brown duster a bit to make himself appear more official. For several punishing moments, his legs wobbled and were slow to respond. It was urgent news, but the fatigue that shot throughout his sleep-deprived body didn't seem to give a damn.

"God of War..." Craig's voice blasted. "God of War, please respond!"

The panic in his voice was enough to let Dalton know something was wrong. Compelling him to tell protocol to go fuck itself as he made his way over to the com station quickly and grabbed a com to answer the message himself.

"Phantom, this is Commander James. I say again, this is God of War _actual_. We read you loud and clear."

A moment passed with nothing. Perhaps it was the shock of hearing from the commander personally, or perhaps the distance between ships.

"Sir, we're in trouble." Craig admitted.

"Alright son, calm down. Tell me exactly what's going on." Dalton replied.

The rush of Craig's voice seemed to alert the entire crew of the God of War's bridge. They listened close, while readying their stations.

"We're on fumes and have warships on our six!"

Warships?

"Say again?" Dalton asked with confusion.

"Encountered unknowns and had to haul ass back, sir, they're all over us. We don't have the fuel to make it back. It's a miracle we've made it this far. Repeat, these ships are nothing like we've seen before but they don't look to be too friendly."

"Launch the swordfish." Dalton said. Turning to relay his orders to the crew.

"How many should I..."

"All of them!" Dalton replied. "And get a tow shuttle to our people, _now_. Tell them to move their asses about it!"

"Yes sir." the crewman replied.

Just as Dalton overheard his orders being given to the pilot's deck, dozens of bright dots appeared on their radar system. Confirming Craig's story. Three of them were much larger, no doubt capital ships, while the rest were fighter-to-fighter size.

"Look here," Dalton said, speaking into his com. "I want you to pull your distress beacon and slam your throttle down as far as you can. Get as close as you can. When the fuel's used up, shut the engine down. Clear?"

"Shut the engine down?" Craig asked with shakiness in his voice.

"Yes son, it's the only chance you have. Get close enough for our guns to protect you and a tow shuttle will be there as soon as possible."

"Alright," Craig said. "Thank you, sir."

There was shakiness and a lack of ease in his voice.

"No son," Dalton replied. "Thank you for putting it out there for us. You just get as far as you can and I'll take care of the rest. You hear?"

"Yes sir."

Dalton turned quickly to ensure his crew was on it.

"Put our rail guns on standby and tell them to avoid any distress beacon they pick up. Otherwise, they'll answer to me." Dalton demanded.

"Absolutely, sir."

"And have our pilots pull their beacons now. Otherwise, they'll be shit stains in the wind along with the uninvited company."

It took only moments for his orders to be executed. Red distress beacons popped up all over their grid radar system. Normally used when a ship was going down in a hard landing, Dalton had seen the need to improvise.

"Who or what do you think they are?" one of the crewmen asked. The entire group aboard the ship's bridge gathered around the glowing table which reflected heat signatures by radar.

"I don't know and I don't give a damn," Dalton replied. "If they're coming for a fight, they've found the wrong dog right here. I'll turn these sumbitches into worm chow and I'll do it without spilling a drop of hooch."

Normally his words would have brought laughter, but not at this moment. Three large ships had appeared on their radar, along with dozens of small ships from the look of things.

"That's it," Craig said. Admitting defeat as the phantom's engines began to clang. A severe lack of fuel to blame. "We're done."

"Are we within range of the God of War?" Anna asked with desperation.

"I don't know," he replied, standing to his feet in the process. "But I guess we'll find out soon enough."

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Craig had taken the oxygen purification system from his suit and placed it on the table. Walking into her direction.

He answered her question with a kiss. Awkward at first, though Anna soon found herself kissing back. No longer caring about the world, or, in this case, worlds around them.

Almost like fireworks being tossed wildly to ping and pop all about, glowing yellow flashes zoomed past the phantom by the thousands. Lead zipped by and tore into smaller ships which had chased the phantom down.

"I love you."

"We're scoring direct hits." one of the crewman proudly announced.

"Don't get too excited," Dalton replied. "These are just the fleas we're hitting. The real dogs are coming, looks like."

"Showing two unknown vessels. Completely different structure than we're used to, and a single warship from the looks of it. A rather big one at that." a crewman said.

"Big don't mean bad," Dalton said, doing his best to keep the crew aboard the God of War calm. "Just keep an eye on 'em and make sure our ship is ready to bring the pain."

"Yes sir."

Adam had been though seemingly everything in his lifetime. War. Love. Loss. But nothing quite like what he was experiencing as he sat next to his son on their military shuttle, safe and secure.

Nothing matched it. Looking down onto a little boy who needed him. It had been a long time since anyone _truly_ needed him, which gave Adam reason to believe that the next chapter in his life had arrived.

There would not be a day that passed when Adam didn't think of Sarah Blaine. He knew it to be true. But he'd think of the woman he'd fallen in love with long ago. Not the person... The _thing_ she'd become.

Adam owed his life to the brave men around him, but, more importantly, his son was alive because of their ability to do a job. Something that made him proud to wear the Colonial uniform.

As their shuttle pulled from Radilia, Adam bid the moon farewell. He'd never visit it again – a promise made to himself.

Of course, he'd made the same promise after leaving Glimmeria during the first war. Which didn't work out so well.

Adam smiled a bit. Though he'd been through hell and back, Adam realized that life was an unpredictable path filled with many hurdles. Some of them were tough enough to break a man's soul while others were just tough enough to make a man appreciate things a little bit more.

Moments like the one he shared with Avery, his son looking up to him with a grin covering his face. Those were the moments he'd fought for and would continue to fight for. They were the times that made life more than just a routine.

Adam had learned to appreciate even the smallest of things. It's what awaited him after a life of hardship and loss.

"What is going on?" Cambria asked as she rushed onto the bridge of their ship.

"We are about to find out," Dalton replied. "Just find a seat and strap down tight. Just in case the shit kicks out."

Normally she would have pressed him for answers. But his sobering demeanor and the crew's frantic movements let her know that something big was happening. Big enough to force her into a chair without argument. Strapping in for whatever came their way next.

"Their fighters seem to be pulling back." a crewman said.

"Their big three?" Dalton asked.

"Negative sir. They're still coming in full-throttle."

"Fuck it," Dalton said. "Let 'em come."

The scene was one of chaos as the three capital ships pushed forward. Each of them quickly gaining ground on the God of War, which waited – missiles locked to the teeth and plenty of ammunition standing by for its massive rail guns.

"We've reached the phantom." a voice declared. Having been sent by the pilot of the dispatched tow shuttle.

"Are they alright?" Dalton asked. Leaning forward a bit to speak into his com system.

"Yea," the pilot replied. As he watched Craig and Anna for a moment through their craft's windshield – kissing passionately, the pilot grinned with relief. "Yea, I'd say they are."

"Good," Dalton said. "Grab hold of them and high-tail it home. We are about to deal with this."

"Copy."

The shuttle wasn't much different than the standard Glimmerian design, though a couple of differences set it apart. First, it had four massive engines to burn, rather than the standard two. The tow shuttle contained no weaponry, using the cargo room for extra fuel instead.

Its second unique feature was a very large plate magnet on its bottom side. Perfectly round and nearly fifteen feet in diameter, the magnet bolted directly to the shuttle's frame and allowed it to carry much larger ships. Much like a tugboat.

Both Craig and Anna heard the clank of magnet to metal as the shuttle latched onto their rooftop. Still, they didn't care. Extreme circumstances during battle can bring out the truth in those involved.

As the shuttle tugged the phantom forward, moving at nearly half-speed back to the God of War, several swordfish fighters skirted past. Escorted by gunfire from the massive ship's rail guns. Not meant to end the oncoming three ships, but to slow them down a bit until the heroes could return home.

"Now sir?" a crewman asked.

"Now we wait." Dalton replied.

Now we wait.

"We're being waved off by the God of War." the shuttle's pilot said.

"Waved off?" Adam asked, standing to approach the front of their military craft.

"Yes sir," the pilot replied. "Something is going on, I'm still trying to figure out what. A lot of chatter. All of it military."

As he finished his statement, the pilot pressed a button which broadcast the radio traffic aloud. Each of the soldiers, including Adam, listening closely.

"We're being redirected to these coordinates." the pilot said, handing Adam a small slip of paper.

"What?"

"I've tried to contact them to find out why, but I've gotten no response. My guess is they have too much radio traffic going right now."

Adam had intended to ask for more. Maybe find out if any other information was exchanged. Then he heard two words crackle across the com system that put him at full-attention.

Second Glimmeria.

"This is Lieutenant Adam Michaels," he said, grabbing the com from his pilot's grip. "Say again with your Second Glimmeria traffic?"

"Lieutenant," a voice replied as others were talking loudly in the background of the transmission. "The God of War has instructed all inbound traffic to join the remainder of the fleet at coordinates seven-alpha..."

"I have the coordinates. I need to know why?" Adam demanded to know.

"No further information is available at this time, Lieutenant. It's a precautionary measure. Regroup and standby."

With that statement, the transmission ended and chatter continued to light up the com system. Pilots spoke amongst themselves as did they speak with crewmen aboard the God of War who relayed the message.

"What should we do sir?" the pilot asked.

"Go to the coordinates," Adam replied. "Team, be locked and loaded. Prepare for anything. I literally have no idea what we're flying into."

"Yes sir."

Chapter 5

Enter the Feared

"Sir, they should be close enough." a crewman announced as many others looked on. Dozens of soldiers and staff waited in silence as their commander plotted his next move against the force of unknown visitors.

"Unidentified vessels, this is Commander Dalton James of the Colonial Fleet. Please identify yourselves and your intentions."

Sitting back in his chair a bit, Dalton held the com firmly and awaited a response. Though none came. The entire staff of the God of War's bridge could now see the large ships at a distance. Massive – each of them looked very odd in design. They were very thin and elongated. Their exteriors all matched of the same bright silver which seemed to shiver just a bit with a pulsating cyan color.

"These fuckers must think that I'm messing around," Dalton announced, bringing his com back to the ready. "Again, this is Commander Dalton James. You are instructed to identify yourselves and your intentions, otherwise you run the risk of being shot down."

He was only a single ship against three, but didn't plan to blink. Dalton had no idea what was aboard the ships in front of him, but he did know that his God of War was slammed packed with the firepower he needed to bring hurt to any enemy.

"I'm getting something commander," a crewman said. It was a loud static at first, but a bit of fine tuning did the trick. "Patching it through now."

Pushing several buttons on a console in front of him, the crewman remained calm. Although he'd be the very first human to hear words being uttered by this brand new race. All through a large set of earphones snugged to his head.

The video screen near their ship's massive glass windshield started to light up as millions of tiny pixels brightened themselves to life. The screen was nearly ten feet in diameter, both in length and width, and had been designed so that ships within the fleet could communicate with ease.

Dalton almost expected to see little green men in the transmission. He'd seen plenty before, usually at the bottom of a cheaper bottle of whiskey. But this time, he saw anything but little green men.

A tall figure draped in white cloth. Its skin was nearly as white as the color itself, appearing to have no pigmentation whatsoever. It looked humanoid, though it seemed to stand a bit taller. Nearly eight feet, if Dalton's calculations were correct.

The room behind him was made of crystal, or at least designed in that fashion. Several others creatures with the same look were also visible. All of them draped in white.

As the being began to speak, Dalton noticed a few things.

First, its eyes were completely white. He could make out the area where the pupils normally were, but it was as if his pupils were indeed there – only milky white.

The being's face was smooth like plastic. Skin, no doubt; but completely white and pure. Shiny and smooth, almost in a synthetic nature.

Finally, as the being spoke a very sharp and foreign tongue, its teeth immediately caught Dalton's attention. They were broken and pointed; shard-like.

Dalton had always made it a point to notice teeth. A pet peeve, really. If a dog had teeth that looked menacing, it wasn't worth owning. If a fellow smuggler had under-maintained teeth, they'd not be sharing Dalton's whiskey and, if it were a female with teeth of the same nature, she'd be going home by herself. He'd often believed that when a woman neglected her own teeth, her nether regions couldn't have been much better off.

They had always been his rules and immediately he found himself not trusting the race in front of him. Filling his com screen with downright ugliness.

"Nothing commander," a crewman said. "Its language is unlike anything we've encountered. The database hears it, but it's not responding."

"Well that's fucking fabulous right there," Dalton replied. "What am I supposed to use, sign language?"

The being seemed to await Dalton's reply. Having no idea he'd stumbled upon a man famous for anything but words. Unless you frequented the local saloon, at which time, Dalton would be seen as a poet of the curse words.

"Look here," Dalton said into his com. "I don't speak your language and you certainly don't speak mine. So run along now, before someone gets hurt." he added, giving the illusion of an explosion with his hands.

Watching the strange looking creature plug several wires into a small box which rested on its collar, Dalton found himself coming back to its teeth and eyes. Time and again. There was something that pulled his attention to them, like a horror story that was yet to be told. Until a bit of noise began to pipe from the box

"Why are you shooting at my vessels?" the creature asked.

It spoke Dalton's native tongue, though it sounded very much like an automated program. Some type of software which captured and translated a foreign language within a matter of seconds. At least that was best explanation among the crewmen. It was certainly more advanced than any Colonial technology.

Everything about the creature's voice sounded eerie. Very slow eeks pieced together with a clicking of the tongue – then spoken into the small box which bracketed to its neck. Taking his words and translating them back into language that Commander Dalton James and crew could understand.

He should have been scared. God knows everyone else witnessing the first encounter between races was. But Dalton feared no man, regardless of how bad his language was. In fact, he'd been infamous for broken language at times himself.

"You threaten one of my birds - You are getting your ass shot at. That's how it works on my watch." Dalton barked firmly.

Giving the strange being a moment to compute his words; the translation box once again cleaning them up for consumption by his ears, the being seemed to quickly inherit a look of frustration and irritation.

"My craft never fired on your vessel." the commander of an alien race replied.

"What are you doing, selling magazines?" Dalton asked. "Let's start with you sitting in my damn backyard. Unannounced. You're lucky I tried to communicate with you, rather than start blowing your shit to pieces."

Cambria wanted to warn her lover off. Feeling as though he were being harsh on the new race. Perhaps he was stirring things up, but she remained still. Trusting Dalton's judgement and experience when it came to military situations.

"You would be wise to calm yourself," the strange being replied. Its tongue snapping a bit as broken words went into the translation box and left understandable to human ears. "I hardly believe your warship is capable."

"If you want to test that belief, you say the words," Dalton said, standing firm. "I can riddle that heap of horse shit full of holes or you can answer my question. Who are you and why are you in my backyard," he added. "I won't ask again."

It was Dalton's way of doing things. He'd learned throughout life that, unless you're staring at one of the best, intimidation usually leads to an average participant backing down in a fighting situation.

Being so aggressive in negotiations had actually gotten him out of more fights than he'd gotten into, which the smuggler turned commander had bet on this time around. He didn't want anyone to die, but he wasn't about to let a race of beings waltz in and have their way. And he had no problem announcing it.

Dalton figured if this new race of beings were that badass, they'd attack regardless. There would be no stopping it.

"My people are called the Viscion," the strange being said. "I'm one of their commanders, of course, and we picked your small craft up at a distance. We did not recognize its marking and were hoping to make contact with another race. Nothing of a violent nature, though, if pressed-" it added. "We can be."

Dalton knew enough about the anatomy of a fight to understand the Viscion had no intentions of blasting his ship from the sky. That said, they would also back down no further. Evident by the tone of the commander's voice.

"Very well," Dalton said. "I'll have my people stand down. You've made contact," he added. "Now. What can I do you for?"

"I would much like to talk details with you in person." the Viscion replied.

"It's won't be on this ship," Dalton replied firmly. "Aside from that glaring detail I'm open to suggestions."

He'd rather eat nails and shit galvanized dreams than to bring an alien race onto his ship and reveal the layout of their home in the sky.

"I see," the commander replied. "Perhaps you would be willing to meet in person aboard my ship."

"Dalton, no." Cambria pleaded with a whisper.

"Damn straight." Dalton replied.

"I do not understand?" the commander said with confusion.

"That means yes in my language." Dalton replied.

His reply brought great joy to the Viscion, although Cambria's heart sank to the floor. Already, she didn't trust the new race.

"Good." the commander of the Viscion warship replied. "I await your arrival."

"I can't believe my eyes." one of the soldiers aboard the aluminium colored shuttle said while shaking his head.

The rest of the crew, including Adam, shared his thoughts of New Glimmeria.

It was literally a city brimming with people. A very old city of aged rock, granted, but still a very welcomed sight. It had long been abandoned by the Husk race, though it remained intact for the most part. Towers of stone and smaller buildings of the same. Many of them etched with the language of the Husk – announcing their function among a society that once thrived within its walls.

Second Glimmeria had been chosen because of its glaring advantage. So little room to live comfortably against extreme temperatures. An advantage as very few infected roamed the lands surrounding the small city. The population of the planet had been very low around the time that universal infection set in.

Adam wasn't sure what to say as their shuttle descended from the clouds above the city. Welcomed by com traffic and the sight of dozens of large capital ships and very close to a hundred smaller craft just like his. Many having maintenance performed on them at the same moment.

Finally, the survivors among the fleet had a chance to finally give their ships a once over after so many months in orbit. Performing much needed maintenance and check for anything faulty, which allowed their machines of might a chance to rest.

It seemed as though society had been plucked from dozens of planets throughout the Skyla System and thrown into a mixing bowl, jam-packed into a small cup, or, in this case, a small city of archaic design.

A large mass of supplies had been taken near the center of the city, from what they could see, and were being reallocated. A chance for people with too many items of clothing to exchange what they could spare for supplies they were in desperate need of the most.

A spot for friends to reunite and tell stories of life aboard their specific ships. Share cigars, lager and other items of comfort. While others were alone and just in need of some rest. A desire for true sunlight to fall onto their skin after having survived nearly an entire year inside of metal squares with a bunk.

As a longtime military trained man, Adam began scouting from the shuttle above. Doing his best to check the defenses of the city thoroughly.

There were no underground mack cannons to help defend against airborne threats, as was the case on the original planet of Glimmeria.

The mack cannons were mighty enough to punch holes through the toughest of ships, but that hadn't helped during the downfall of Glimmeria as the infection spread. Their greatest cities had been overrun in a matter of days.

What the city did seem to have in place were gun towers. Armed military snipers in each of the city's largest towers, which were plentiful. Giving them a bit of defense against any infected who may try to approach the city. Aside from that, Adam saw a handful of combat shuttles patrolling the outskirts. Capable of taking down small groups of infected, if needed be.

He wasn't sure who was behind the plan to move the survivors here, but Adam thanked them. He began hoping that he would be able to raise his son with a natural breeze blowing at his back, rather than air manufactured by a ship's purification system.

The planet was safe enough to rest with his son. That was his assessment and Adam would gladly take it. He was in serious need of a few hours of sleep. It didn't matter where, just as long as he was with his son and they were safe.

As the shuttle touched down with a bit of a rough thud onto the large courtyard built of stone, Adam thanked each of the soldiers for their help in rescuing Avery. He'd eternally owe each one of them.

Adam took a few extra moments to encourage the young soldier with them to stay after his dream of owning a ship and moving freight, letting him know that their society would be back on track soon enough and sometimes a dream to chase was all that a man needed to be happy.

He would try to track down his old friend soon enough. At the moment though, Adam felt the extremes of fatigue and hurt of a lover taken down by his own hand. He needed sleep in the worst of ways, though he feared... Very little sleep was to be had.

"I'm going to ask you not to go." Cambria said. Pleading with her brown coat laden lover to stay within the safe confines of their ship.

"I've been playing too nice for too long. I've got to get out and live a little, you know?" Dalton replied.

Cambria found the exchange odd. It seemed as though two married lovers were disputing something normal, like a man's night out to the local pub with friends. Although she would say nothing of it to her lover.

"Anything can happen over there," she pleaded. "Anything."

"I was born ready for anything," he replied with a grin. "You're talking to the old hound dog here."

"Dalton. I'm serious." Cambria insisted.

Old hound dog or not, she understood the Viscion could very well be a peaceful race. That said, they could also spring a trap onto Dalton and his group the moment his shuttle touched down. Stripping the man she loved from her arms. Forever.

"I know," he replied. His tone becoming one of truth. "Trust me Cambria, I'll be fine. I'm just going long enough to find out what we're up against."

"Be careful." she said. Draping her arms around him for a moment and exchanging a very passionate kiss.

Her arms clinched him tight. Knowing he might never come back to her. Cambria wanted to beg him once more. Scream it at the top of her lungs, if that's what it took. But she didn't. She simply kissed him like she'd never kissed him before. Taking her time and loving him completely.

"Well, this is awkward." one of the soldiers commented.

A party of six of them altogether, four humans and two Husk, had gathered and awaited the commander. Preparing to fly along with him.

"I've pulled a few posts outside of the commander's bunk," another soldier replied. "Trust me. They don't care who is around. They just get to it."

"Get to what?" one of the Husk warriors asked.

The human soldier glanced to him.

"Oh my."

The Husk understood that what his own race did in the privacy of stone built dwellings, Dalton was capable of doing in public with no regret. A scary thought indeed.

"Alright men. Let's get your hands out of your pockets and get to it." Dalton ordered. Passing by the group with purpose as they prepared to board the fleet's most solid shuttle.

But you were the one holding US up?

As the shuttle began to lift from the firm deck of thick steel flooring, Dalton felt nerves and it felt mighty good. It was only natural. He'd seen a lot in his time. He'd survived wars, even walked away from two different crash landings. Both times he'd promised himself and anyone else who would listen that he'd never again set foot on anything that pulled his feet from the ground. Yet here he was. Lifting off in another shuttle and grinning from ear to ear as he prepared to meet the leaders of this brand new race.

Dalton thought of a brand new group of beings who awaiting his presence. A race that could have presented humanity with futuristic technology, perhaps even a cure for diseases which they'd been unable to find. In particular, the disease which had maddened so many infected below and turned them into a zombie-like state.

"When we get there. Nobody starts shooting unless I start shooting." Dalton said.

"Do you really think there will be shooting, sir?" one of the human soldiers asked.

"We'll, there's sure to be drinks. That's usually what happens at a sit down like this," Dalton replied. "Whenever there's drinks, that normally either leads to lots of smiling faces or shooting," he added. "And like I said. Nobody starts shooting until I do."

As he grinned a bit, sitting back in the chair built for durability – not comfort, Dalton felt like a proud poppa among such men. Their youthful eyes were stargazing at a man who'd walked the walk many times before.

"Are we to follow you?" one of the two Husk asked.

"Stay with the shuttle. Both of you," Dalton replied. "You hear gunfire, you get on that damn radio and let the good folks on the God of War know. They'll tear the Viscion a new asshole under my orders."

"Understood." the mighty Husk replied.

They were monstrous in appearance. The Husk had always been viewed as such, resembling Orc of mythology. Large, abundant in muscles and gleaming a set of large, wiry teeth that only a mother could love.

Their appearance was enough to force many in the human race to walk the other way, but not Dalton James. He'd fought shoulder to shoulder with Husk for many years. Losing the first war of Glimmeria and winning the second.

Lighting a badly wrapped cigar, Dalton smiled. Quickly filling the shuttle's cabin with smoke. Irritating every soldier with him, while never giving a damn. For better or for worse, he was back in the saddle of adventure.

Chapter 6

Loss of Sleep

Nearly a year aboard ships in the black had nearly broken Adam.

Especially while frantically searching for his son. It made the moment all that much sweeter as Adam carried Avery from the shuttle. The rest of their group walked ahead as fresh air swooped in and brushed across his face.

It felt like paradise. A bit cold, certainly nothing of the sandy beach lifestyle, but it was manageable. Warm enough to live year round wearing no coat, though he'd already started picturing Dalton draped in brown leather and stale cigar smoke.

As expected, Adam had gotten almost no sleep while flying to Second Glimmeria. Thinking of a love that once was – and the moment he ended it with a single bullet.

Sarah Blaine had been his soul mate. Sure, he'd married Sasha and fit in well with the Benzans around her. Their simple and remote lifestyle very satisfying to Adam. But never, not once, did the man of so many walks ever forget about Sarah Blaine or their time together. He never stopped longing for her presence – her touch.

Seeing her nearly killed his inner soul. The queen of vampires had no intentions of walking away. Adam had understood that their love, no matter how explosive, was not meant to be. There was too much history there. Including the theft of his son.

It was an act that Adam considered to be well over the line. His love for Avery was understandably far greater than a love for any woman could ever be. He had not pushed Sarah into the life of the undead and he certainly wasn't going to walk away without getting his son back.

It had to be done. Though Adam regretted the fact that her blood was on his hands, she had to fall. Not that it would lead to sleep-filled nights for him anytime soon.

"They have us in building 4-1-6-A." one of his soldiers announced. Having stopped to deliver the news to Adam and the rest of his crew.

Adam offered no reply, but had already noticed each building being tagged with a combination of numbers and letters. The red spray paint was easily visible against the sandstone color of the buildings which stood across the city.

He would have his son to their quarters soon enough. Even though Adam was exhausted, he'd spend a bit of time looking around their new home and feeling guilty about his lack of knowledge when it came to the city's history, while feeling blessed enough to have made it here alive – his son in his arms.

Several larger tower-shaped buildings cascaded up to the heavens, nearly touching the low-laying clouds above. Meanwhile, hundreds of smaller, square-shaped buildings spread across the rocky terrain within the city. And they appeared to be built just as sturdy. The husk had taken their time building this jewel of a city many centuries before.

Adam looked across the reaches of landscape. Vibrant green hills stood in the backdrop of his sight, while large rocks lay in many of the open areas, giving the area a mountainous feel. It was picturesque and clean.

It looked almost like a medieval setting, if not for the piles of travel weary spaceships which had landed and were undergoing repairs.

Adam still hadn't learned the city's name. He knew nothing of New Glimmeria's staying power, or even where his designated building was. But he knew one thing from beginning to end when it came to both him and his son.

They were home.

As Dalton and his group of very-reserved soldiers eased their shuttle into the large warship of the Viscion, immediately they began to notice differences.

Much of the ship's interior looked transparent. Made of crystal-like material, though it held together like steel. Complete with the rivet of bolts.

Several computer screens were integrated within the ship's walls, each of them seemed a bit milky as bright led light flashed across in vivid coloring. A language written – though none of Dalton's crew understood a bit of it.

Several of the Viscion stood tall, rifles of some sort resting in their arms as another similar to them awaited the shuttle's landing. This one appeared to be in charge – his outfit a little less combative and trimmed more properly.

"Well boys," Dalton said as he threw his smoldering cigar stump to the floor of their shuttle. Stomping it out with the thick of his boot bottom. "It's go time."

Though none of the crew understood his words, each syllable brought with it fame. A phrase uttered by Dalton James when the shit was about to hit the fan, so to speak. It was his admission that the cuffs were off, the whiskey had run dry and hell was about to be raised. If needed be. It was _go time_.

"Commander James," the Viscion said. Lowering himself a bit. "My people are honored by your visit."

The snapping of tongue made Dalton and his men feel a bit awkward. The Viscion spoke a very slow and direct language. As the translation boxes mounted to their shoulders processed and cleaned up the language for human ears, however, Dalton seemed to ease up just a little as he nodded slowly..

That ease quickly vanished as the Viscion soldiers aimed down on them. Rifles of a strange design sighting them up as a precautionary measure.

Small red triangles flashed onto their chests. A warning by any language that one wrong move would be the last.

"What the hell is this about?" Dalton angrily asked.

"My apologies. It is standard procedure to disarm any boarding party that lands on this ship. I hope you understand?"

Dalton glanced hard at the beast, knowing nothing about their race or intentions. Fighting back the urge to slap teeth from its mouth with as little as a shady blink of the eye.

"You have my word. No harm will come to you or any among your boarding party. I assure you, this is procedure, even when my _own_ race boards."

Whipping his shotgun around quickly and bringing the entire confrontation to an alarming moment; Dalton spun it a bit to hand it over to the Viscion soldier. The rest of his group slowly following their painfully sober leader's actions.

"This way." the Viscion said.

Walking from the landing bay of the unusual looking ship – his soldiers ushering Commander James and company along at rifle point.

Meanwhile, the Husk both remained at rifle point. Their oversized arms extended up and completely at the mercy of a race they knew nothing of. A fact that did not sit very well with the proud race of warriors.

"You're weapons are a bit heavier than we are used to." one of the escorting Viscion said. Tasked with carrying each of the weapons handed over by Dalton and his group.

"So is my drinking habit." Dalton replied.

"Welcome to my ship Commander Dalton," a similarly dressed, but heavy decorated man said. His clothing solid white as many symbolic medals were pinned to his chest. "I am Commander Ryalk."

"Not happy about having my weapons taken." Dalton replied with a bit of zest.

His words filtered into the strange devices which seemed to mount to the collar over every Viscion. Squauking back out to the alien race in their native language.

"You would not have done the same?"

It was a damn good question, primarily because they both already knew the answer was yes. Making Dalton question why he'd come along in the first place.

"Our people could stand to learn a bit from the other. Yes?" Ryalk asked.

Their language was enough to run chills up the spine of most. Very comparable to that of a savage tribe. Very deep toned with loud clicking on the tail end of most words.

"Depends on the subject we're learning?" Dalton replied with a question of his own.

Secretly, he also questioned why the hell their meeting was taking place in the middle of a large hallway. One that was constructed of seamless white walls and plentiful overhead lighting. Bright and white. Everything was just so damn white, in Dalton's opinion.

"Well," Ryalk said. "I would first begin by asking why a race of people remain aboard their ships when so many habitable planets sit below."

"Here's how this is going to work," Dalton stated. "I'll answer your damn question. Then you're going to answer mine."

"Alright."

"Long story short, our race is dealing with a plague down there. The people on my ship are uninfected, but the worlds below us are overrun with infected. They're dead, they're living. Hell, we still don't know what call them." Dalton admitted.

"I see."

"Now," Dalton said, drawing a bit closer, much to the disapproval of several Viscion soldiers. "Why did you follow my shuttle so damn far when you could have kept going your distance in a warship?"

He could see that the question placed the commander of such a strange race in a bit of discomfort.

"Resources." Commander Ryalk replied.

"Resources?" Dalton asked.

"You see," Ryalk began. "My people are a race among the stars. Certainly not born of the stars, but we've been among them for many generations. Perhaps thousands of years. We've certainly had our opportunities to colonize habitable worlds, but the Viscion are a race among the stars by choice. It is where we feel free."

"And living among the stars takes a lot of resources?" Dalton asked.

"Yes."

It made sense. Perhaps at one time the Viscion were even human. It would be a long shot, but certainly not out of the question. People within the Skyla System have been travelling through the stars for hundreds of years. Along the way there have been numerous attempts to explore beyond the reaches of the Skyla System, though most have failed miserably.

It was entirely possible that the Viscion were descendants of one such group. Evolving throughout the years. Maybe their skin had become chalk white as their bodies reconfigured a bit to adapt to life aboard a ship.

"What type of resources are you in need of?" Dalton asked. "Hell, we have plenty of water down there. If it's fossil fuels you need, we have that..."

"Food." Commander Ryalk replied.

"Well, I mean we have farms and such down there. Though they are most likely covered up with infected." Dalton replied.

A silence seemed to drape across the entire group for a moment. Giving the visiting party a very uncomfortable feeling.

"What kind of food?" Dalton asked.

His question was simply answered with a look that sent chills ringing down his spine. Something was very wrong.

They were futuristic in their technology and weaponry, though savage and basic in their need for meat. Cannibals with a fleet of powerful ships at their disposal.

"Oh hell no." Dalton said.

"Relax Commander James," Ryalk said. "I did not bring you aboard this ship to trap you and harvest the meat from your frame."

It's a damn good thing.

"So what is it that you want, exactly?" one of Dalton's accompanying soldiers asked. They were all thinking it.

It seemed a bit odd to the Viscion that a subordinate had entered the conversation. But they understood the humans had their own way of handling things. Had it been one of their own. He would have died quite painfully for speaking out of turn.

"It seems that you have the resource we seek in plentiful supply down below," Ryalk replied. "We could easily cleanse these worlds below for you in exchange for keeping what we kill. I doubt this infection of yours will be much of a challenge to us."

"I think you underestimate how many infected roam the planets beneath our ships," Dalton said. "They overran our largest cities within hours."

"Perhaps you underestimate the hunger my people have for the salty scorch of meat," Rylak replied. "I assure you, we have the weaponry to exterminate these infected with ease. We have a food processing center, but my people have long grown tired of organic plants filling their stomachs. When you've ate vegetation for thousands of years, you'll quickly risk your life for the fill of meat," he added. "Do we have an agreement?"

It was the worst kind of agreement Dalton could have been a part of. The type that, ultimately, he had no choice in. If he declined the offer, he'd likely be resting in the pit of a Viscion stomach within the hour. The extraterrestrial race would go through with their plan either way. Or, he could agree and at least buy his people a bit of time.

"You clear our planets in exchange for the right to keep what you kill? Sounds fair to me. But there are survivors down there hiding out, too. They are _not_ to be harmed in any way." Dalton replied.

"Good. I believe I can except those terms," Commander Rylak said. "Now if you'll excuse me. A harvesting of this magnitude will require a bit of planning."

The fact that Rylak referred to it as a harvest let Dalton know it had been done before. Several times, by the way Rylak's words from tongue so easily. It was commonplace. You don't have a food processing center for meat unless there's been fucking meat recently.

"Again. You will be harvesting infected only." Dalton asked.

"That was our agreement commander." Rylak said, though he did so as he turned to begin staging for an invasion of planets below their ships.

"We have innocent people down there awaiting our rescue. Uninfected people," Dalton said. "You do not want to cross me on this."

"Thank you for your visit," Rylak said. Stopping to face Dalton a final time. "My soldiers will see you back to your shuttle," he added with a look of utmost seriousness. "The terms have been made and are non-negotiable. Do not stand in my way and I will not stand in yours. If you cross _me,_ I can promise you...your race will be humbled to its knees."

With that, the commander turned to walk away under armed escort. The bright lights of the large hallway already having gotten on Dalton's nerves.

"Pack a lunch." Dalton replied.

His group was slowly led back to the gunmetal gray shuttle which had brought them aboard. It was a rather long walk, though Dalton felt it took no time at all. Pissed off and ready to throw down, if he thought they stood a chance of making it back to their ship in one piece. The Viscion's leader had agreed to leave the survivors unharmed, but Dalton knew deep down that it was a goddam lie.

"Retrieve your weapons and make your way onto you shuttle." one of the Viscion soldiers demanded.

The voice crackled through the announcing box mounted to its shoulder, sounding firm. Yet the Viscion had made one serious mistake. Allowing Dalton and his crew to turn their backs while gearing back up. Retrieving their weapons from a large, odd-shaped box of translucent structure.

"Ya'll keep it real." Dalton said. Turning for a moment to wave farewell to the alien race. A gesture thought of as strange, coming from a man who'd just been handed unfavorable terms and lied to.

He'd retrieved both a shotgun and a sidearm. Dalton's iron horse of revolving pain remained in the box. Instead, a Viscion sidearm was tucked snugly into the patch of pants his revolver once called home.

"Get on the horn and tell the God of War that we're flying straight to Second Glimmeria," Dalton said. "Have 'em pack their shit and follow us in. Tell my woman I love her."

Invite a smuggler in and you get your shit stolen.

"Second Glimmeria?" the pilot asked. Sitting down into the seat of tough black leather as the rest of the shuttle's crew quickly began boarding.

"Yep," Dalton replied. "Gonna go see the good doctor."

Adam had pulled his eyes open at the sound of creaking wood. The door of his room shifted a bit as sunlight began to pour in. Or so he imagined.

A silhouette of Dalton James stood nearby.

Rubbing his eyes for a moment, Adam grabbed the small bottle of husk wine from his nightstand in order to check its alcoholic content. Thinking it to be a dream; or perhaps an illusion.

"That's some weak ass shit, I already checked." Dalton said with a grin.

Bolting from his bed, Adam immediately shook hands with his longtime friend and expressed a sigh of relief. Knowing it would have been one strange dream.

"It's about time you showed up." Adam said.

"Sorry brother, I ran into a bit of a pickle. A shit storm of pickles, actually."

"Huh?" Adam asked.

"I'll explain on the way," Dalton replied. "I need you to take a walk with me."

"Dalton I can't. Avery is still sleeping." Adam replied.

"Sasha has it covered." Dalton said.

His statement brought extreme hesitation. Adam remembering that his son was under Cambria's care the last time he was taken. None of it Cambria's fault, of course, but the hesitation of a father was still there to say the least.

"You can relax Adam," Cambria added, entering the room slowly. "He has these trees following me around. Everywhere."

Standing behind her were two of the largest and most decorated husk soldiers that Adam had ever seen. And he'd seen his share. Each of the orc-like soldiers were cut from the same cloth. A cloth made of rippling muscle and bad hygiene.

"Ri'ial, what do you do if anyone comes in unannounced to threaten my woman or my friend's son?" Dalton asked.

"Rip their arms from their sockets. Watch them bleed out. Check for whiskey." one of the large warriors replied.

"Bet your ass." Dalton said with a grin.

Still, Adam seemed a bit reluctant.

"I'd die before I let someone else take your son." Cambria admitted.

"Alright," Adam replied. "But can we make it quick?"

"You got it buddy." Dalton said.

"You son of a bitch!" Doctor Arness yelled. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here after holding me in shackles for days on end!"

"Calm down and listen." Dalton replied.

"What's this?" Adam asked.

"I'll explain later." Dalton replied.

"I'll NOT calm down!" the doctor shouted. "I've eaten three meals in as many days. THREE! None of them exactly a king's ransom, either."

"You'll calm down or I'll beat that feisty tongue right out of 'ya." Dalton replied.

His words led to an awkward silence among the men. The sound of absolutely nothing for several moments, which nearly deafened the lot of them.

"I need your help." Dalton admitted.

"Oh...oh," the doctor said with a loud tone and a bit of cynical laughter. "Now you need _my_ help."

"There's a very important meeting in about twenty minutes. I'd like to have you there. On my side, this time, rather than plotting against me. There will be plenty of food, wine," Dalton said to entice the humbled doctor. "You name it, you'll have it."

"And then what?" Doctor Arness questioned.

"Then you'll be free to help or go as you please. No strings attached."

"What kind of meeting?"

Dalton had stirred the curiosity of the fleet's good doctor. And that, combined with a mighty strong need to eat, was just enough to force him into agreement.

As Dalton, Adam and Doctor Arness entered the large room, the gathered members of humanity fell to a hush.

Adam could see a vaulted ceiling nearly fifty feet high above them. Carvings and designs that were hand decorated onto the sandstone material, as was the case on the walls around them. He wasn't sure what the building once stood for, but understood that it was now the designated meeting point of the high-ranking officials among what remained of their race.

"There's no food," Doctor Arness replied. "And I see no _wine_. None of what you said is true. I'm starving."

Pulling a small flask of unknown drink from his brown duster, Dalton forcefully handed it to the doctor.

"That right there will put some wing in your ding. It'll make you forget all about wine," Dalton said. "I'll promise you that damn much."

"And for food?" the doctor asked. Swiping the flask from Dalton's hand.

"Do what I do."

"Which is?"

"Without." Dalton replied sternly.

"Commander James." one of the ranking officers said, saluting him with honor.

"At ease, all of 'ya," Dalton said. "Just find a seat to park your asses and we'll get to it. We need to get started as soon as possible."

Adam did just that. Wondering how far his old wily friend was dragging him down the rabbit hole.

"As most of you know. We've run across a brand new race. One that's full of weaponry, and, as it turns out, surprises." Dalton said. Shaking his head a bit.

_A new race?_ Adam thought.

"Turns out they're looking for resources. Food in particular." Dalton added.

"What kind of food?" one of the seated ranking officers asked. A dozen or so were each seated around a large wooden table of polished shine. As were Adam and the doctor.

"The kind of food that likes to walk and talk," Dalton replied. "Carry on conversation and have sex after closing time."

"I don't get it?" the doctor admitted.

"Humans." Dalton replied.

His statement brought a hush across the room. Each seated man was in shock at the mere thought of such a thing.

"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 God of War 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. I plan on taking a small crew out to the planets in search of any surviving before the infected, or now, the Viscion, can get their damn hands on 'em. You can't be dragging your boy out there in that shit. You care about people and can think on your feet. Besides, 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. He was 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 as he thought about a normal life with his son.

"We've no problem with that. Lieutenant Michaels is highly decorated as an officer." one of the officials said.

"Good. I'm spending a few days alone with my honey," Dalton said. "At which time I'll lace these 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 about."

"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.

"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 and 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.

Chapter 7

Safe At Last

Adam stood firm; his hands gripped 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 hammering of boots to the stone walkway 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, 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. "You'drobably get my ass shot off over some piece of ass, 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. Sarah and Sasha had been 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 write 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. Just thinking of his best friend being coached into kindness.

"Do you remember us all sitting around that old wooden table and swapping tales? That shit hole bar?"

"Paulie's." Adam replied.

"That's the place," Dalton said. "I'll never forget it. Honestly, Ihink about that night all the time. I wish it could have lasted forever."

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."

"There's a lot of bad shit out there. 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 after what would prove to be a hard fought battle.

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. He did, however, wonder how one of the humans had mistakenly forgotten his sidearm. Or, worse, if it had been no mistake at all.

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 the 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 started 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 Glimmeria 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 crackled over the radio com as the shuttle began pushing up into the stars. "Glimmeria Actual – 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. Then came the 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. The trust of friendship and then 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 repeater 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 agreed.

"Nope," Johnny said. "But I do know it doesn't matter at this point. Hell, beans are a lot better than most like us have."

"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 ass that whoever is left is right there with 'em," Johnny said. "Gotta keep surviving. That's what we gotta do."

"I hadn't had a woman in over a year." one of the cowboys admitted. Striking laughter as the entire group began to laugh without control for a spell.

"If you find one," Johnny said. "I figure we'll all be eating something besides beans, eh? Something nice and trim."

His comment broke the cave out into thunderous laughter. Partially due to the joking conversation, while most of it stemmed for a severe lack of sleep.

Johnny and his group had done the best they could in surviving for nearly a complete year. As the infection first broke, forcing so many citizens into a state that was near Zombie-like; Geartown was overrun. Followed by all of the towns around it. Each falling like dominoes as reports of the infection began to show up on other planets within the Skyla System.

Three months. That's all the time it took for the horde of infected to overrun every known city and military installation to the point of evacuation. Pulling into orbit and trying to figure out what to do next.

Stale bread, shitty beans, the occasional piece of fruit and anything wet they could hold down. That's what had been on the menu of survival for the outlaws turned survivors.

He remained tough in front of the men. They looked to him, and Johnny understood that. He quietly watched the sun begin to drape over the horizon, just as he had done nearly every night since the infection.

Wondering if help would ever arrive.

The morning sunlight brought with it a welcomed glare. One that Adam Michaels had not seen in quite some time. And though he missed the beauty of a sunrise, it was the warmth of the sun which followed that really seemed to capture him.

His tasks were much safer than those of his longtime friend. But Adam knew his work would be cut out for him. Helping so many people settle into their homes on Second Glimmeria as quickly and comfortably as possible. Wondering if Dalton hadn't left him to do it – knowing it would be a bitch from day one.

A few infected had charged the city since the fleet's arrival. Each of them quickly dispatched by way of a bullet. Compliments of one of Glimmeria's gun towers.

The fact of it was, before the infection began, not many people had lived on the planet which had come to be known as Second Glimmeria. Such a scarce population made it ideal to settle on. A minimal threat, unlike what Dalton was coasting into with the drifts.

The problem, as Adam quickly discovered, was that it was so scarcely inhabited because such a large portion of the planet was not fit for living. Nearly one half of the large planet permanently faced the Skyla System's sun cluster, which brought desert like conditions every single day. No sunrise or sunset, just scorching heat which would kill a man inside of an hour if extreme precautions were not taken.

That said, nearly one half of the planet faced deep space with every passing day. Always dark, cold and filled with the bluster of high winds. The type of cold that would break even the toughest man's soul.

Leaving a small portion directly in the center of the planet a spot worth living. A tall ridge of mountains in which the Husk had built their proud city. Beyond that, a vast lay of flat fields and some thick forest. That's all that sat in what locals had begun calling, the comfort zone. Most of the planet along the fault line of comfort was water – leaving their patch of paradise the only habitable stretch of soil on Second Glimmeria.

Adam's sole job was to make sure everyone's needs were tended to. All while working together with the ranking members of a society which once stood proud.

Or so was the hope.

Not exactly what Adam was used to. No gun fights or bar brawls to be had. His life of true adventure being squashed as he now handed out portioned rice to anyone with an empty plate. Doing what he could to help a surviving race push forward to a new day. A job he totally embraced. Knowing his son Avery would have to come first, which suited him just fine.

"This technology is incredible." Doctor Arness admitted.

A scientist worked closely alongside him – both of them in awe over the Viscion weapon Dalton had stolen red-handed.

Holding up a clear crystal which was perfectly rounded, nearly the size of a small marble, the doctor glanced through it into the lighting above.

It was completely clear, though as they ran tests on it, the crystal began to cloud a bit. Its way of using charge. As the doctor set it back on the table of their laboratory, minutes passed and the crystal finally began to rid itself of the hazy color and once again became totally clear.

"I've never seen anything like it," the doctor admitted. "And my guess is that most of their technology works with similar powering. Perhaps even their ships."

The scientist looked the clear marble over as well. Thoroughly noting every bit of change as the haze seemed to evaporate before their very eyes.

"Can you duplicate it?" Doctor Arness asked.

"Perhaps in the right setting. After I put it into the v-joint scanner, run some diagnostics and break down the..."

"It was a yes or no question?" the doctor asked once more.

"In time, yes." the scientist replied. Doing so very snidely.

"Good. Make it a _priority_ ," Doctor Arness replied. "Don't shower. Don't sleep. If you eat, do it here."

Walking away, the doctor could hear the grumbling of a scientist who wanted no part of it. Not that he had a choice in the matter. Stringing together words of filth that would certainly shame a vagrant.

Walking down a long and narrow hallway aboard the God of War, Doctor Arness stopped to glare out of a small pane of shatterproof glass. It's complete area was less than two-feet wide, which was just enough.

He watched the first steps of the platform. A space station that had been designed on paper to protect Second Glimmeria from any unwanted guests. Namely the Viscion.

It would be large. Nearly half of the size of his own warship, though it would have no capability of flight. They had planned to hold it in orbit with the use of a very potent electromagnet which would be placed on the surface of Second Glimmeria.

A large weapons platform that would serve as an orbiting military installation. Giving the human race flexibility in times of war as it would the God of War to fight alongside the platform, or be dispatched elsewhere if need be.

Their biggest hurdle would be pulling together the resources for such a project even with one of the larger surviving ships being scrapped in order to scrape together the necessary components. Along with a bulk of spare metal sitting aboard their salvage ship, which had been intended to serve as a repair ship for their deep space flight, they would cut it close.

Humanity had made the commitment to remain in the Skyla System and defend it with everything they had left. The infected no longer their biggest concern – but rather a new race which had openly spoke of the need for flesh. A need to pack out freezers for their own extended voyage. Thinking the humans naïve.

If humanity was well-versed in the art of anything, it was the art of deception. They'd been lying to one another for thousands of years in order to grab hold of their true motives. They understood the Viscion had no plans of simply leaving the system and allowing humanity to remain here to live out their lives peacefully.

So they were allowing the Viscion to exterminate the infected, while preparing for a war that was obviously coming. A blood war between races.

"Look familiar?" Dalton asked.

Cambria agreed, though her attention remained focused to the windshield at the front of their shuttle. The large planet which had been her home growing up, now becoming clearly visible. They'd reached the drifts and were preparing to head back into a place Dalton had cursed on many nights.

Geartown.

A small western-style town which, up until now, had shunned modern technology. In fact, every location within a string of planets out here had done the same.

They were just simple folks. Hard working, old-fashioned people who believed a man's word and skill with a hammer were just as important as anything that had been digitally developed. It had earned them a reputation of living as settlers.

Cambria had hated such a simple lifestyle growing up. Her one and only goal was to get away from it and seek adventure in the larger cities of the Skyla System. And she'd found her adventure, only to discover a longing to return home. Back to a place where she had time to think.

"Hate this damn part." Dalton admitted.

Cambria had meant to ask her lover what his comment meant, but quickly discovered a military drop was a bit different than most others. Especially the landing sequence.

The heart which beat in her chest felt as though it were laying on the floor. Their shuttle going from passive orbit to instantly falling like a stone from the sky at breakneck speed with no engines to be heard.

"What..." she managed to push from her lungs. Able to do nothing more than grip the frame of her thick seat and cling to it with every bit of energy she could muster.

"Woooo!" Dalton yelled. His excitement seemed a bit psychotic to her.

Cambria noticed, as she held onto the seat for dear life, several Husk speaking in a tribal language. Reciting the same thing, perhaps a prayer.

It seemed that every soldier has his or her own ritual, and Cambria's was to clinch the seat around her with fear. The tips of her fingers dug into the thick black leather.

She first heard a clicking sound which was followed by the loud roar of thrusters behind them. Their shuttle was doing exactly what is should have done. An extreme fall from orbit with thrust kicking in to continue the speed, though doing so in controlled flight.

"My God." Cambria said.

"Fun, ain't it?" Dalton replied.

"I thought you hated it?"

"I do," he replied. "We all do. But it sure does remind you that you're alive."

One of the larger Husk forcefully pounded his chest once with a clinched fist. Yelling in the process as he prepared for war. Showing everyone in the shuttle that he feared no coming battle. No death. He was a lion among cubs. Of course, not even thirty seconds before he'd been gripping his own chair and praying.

A couple of Husk began laughing a bit, completely agreeing with Dalton's testament as Cambria tried to soak everything in. The entire ecosystem within the shuttle's cabin changed very drastically as the soldiers prepared for a fight.

"Alright boys, listen up," Dalton announced. "When we touch soil I want a single team. Scout in the front and gunners at the flank. We move quietly and together."

It was at this very moment that Cambria realized why Dalton longed for the fight once more. He was damn good at it. An officer's desk and uniform would never quench his thirst for adventure. Only moments like the one he was currently owning to the letter would do the trick of feeling alive.

"Geartown is a no go." the pilot announced.

"The fuck are you talking about?" Dalton replied, standing from his seat and making way to the pilot's area, which lay at the front of the shuttle and seemed a bit more wide open. A shatterproof windshield separated them from the elements outside.

"Hundreds of them." the pilot said.

Dalton could easily see it too. A large horde of infected slowly walking the streets of Cambria's hometown. Giving almost no hope for survivors among the walking dead.

"Can you put us down up there?" Dalton asked. Pointing out a large area atop a nearby canyon. Both steep in height and flat in several places.

"Shouldn't be a problem."

"Alright people." Dalton said, turning to face the waiting group of soldiers. His head slammed into the metal bulkhead a bit as the shuttle shifted its direction suddenly, which nearly tossed him to the floor.

Turning fast, Dalton prepared to growl at the pilot over such a violent shift.

"Sorry sir, the air current is testy."

_I'm about to show you testy you little puny bastard._ Dalton thought.

He'd keep his thoughts to himself, though, knowing that pilot was the only person who could fly them back out of trouble if need be. Instead turning back to the waiting soldiers.

"Put your walking shoes on. We've got a damn hike staring us in the face."

"What about Geartown?" Cambria asked.

Dalton simply shook his head.

Landing in the town she'd once called home was completely out of the question and it did hurt her deeply. She wondered if everyone she'd ever known had joined the ranks of infected dead. It was very likely that they had.

Chapter 8

The Unexpected

The sonic boom of an incoming ship nearly saw Johnny wear the coffee he'd been drinking. Piping hot liquid flooding over the cup's edge a bit and burning into his hand.

"Shit!" he said, tossing the cup of coffee into the corner of their dwelling. A large cave in which time had hollowed out quite a bit. The perfect place for a group of surviving to lay low.

"What is it?" one of the cowboys asked. Rushing to find the root of Johnny's commotion.

"Ain't no mistaking it. That's a _fucking_ ship." Johnny replied.

"They've come back for us?"

"Wishful thinking, but I doubt it," Johnny said. "It don't matter none. We're heading out to take the ship if it's flyable."

"Damn straight!" another cowboy announced. "I'm eating something other than beans tonight!"

His statement brought laughter from the outlaws turned survivors. Each of them found new hope in a ship which entered their quaint little world.

"May want to shower up first and brush those damn teeth of yours," Johnny replied. "Cause I can tell you right now, no woman in her right mind would have you in the shape you're in. And that includes the infected ones."

His joke went over well with the group, each of them laughing accordingly. They understood it was his way. Johnny was the alpha-male of their pack. Their leader through thick and thin. Before the infection, they'd been outlaws with a history of crime, usually in the field of large-scale robberies against the system and its financial power.

Since the infection, they had become survivors. Jumping from a life of robbing financial institutions of money and splashing into a life of robbing the infected dead of anything nearby that would help Johnny and his group survive.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Johnny was preparing his group to do whatever needed to be done. That included stealing a shuttle which had gone down somewhere close, presumably only a few miles away from them.

Even though he had no idea that good friends were aboard it.

"My lord."

"Yes?" Ryalk asked.

The Viscion leader turned to watch one of his officer's approach. A crystallized look to the very large throne room, which included a vaulted ceiling and several windows overlooking the stars.

"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. Do we 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.

They had only three ships and but one of them was a warship. While the Viscion were a mighty race among the universes, they were scattered and anything but unified. Clans fought other clans on all fronts. Ryalk would need to decide where to send his three ships. Chase the ship full of rats to a potentially food-rich planet or assault the building space station.

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. Making it a very effective and deadly 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 Glimmerian hammer."

_Oh shit._ Dalton thought, remembering 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 through a stroke of pure luck.

"It's storm season in the drifts, sir," the pilot replied. "Cambria should have warned you. We're hitting a bad one."

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 joined in after realizing the wind turbulence was normal for this time of year. They would indeed live 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 a _damn_ thing," 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. His 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 sons 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 clipping at 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 to register it, 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 fed into the outdated com 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 into 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 preparing to breed when their own asses were on the line. Each of them scrambling to reach the reserve shuttle aboard the Lucky Lady – piercing shots of scorching lasers were 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 had 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 gleamed 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 your ass." 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 was interpreted by Johnny's gang as unfriendly fire and they immediately fired 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 for our troubles!" 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 or 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.

Lucky though, seeing the husk around him laying dead. Injuries sustained in the shuttle's quick and ridiculous attempt at a crash landing. Orc-like warriors who aren't flight trained don't mix well with, well, flight. So it seemed.

Injuries aside, the co-pilot had bigger problems. Several figures stumbling through the dark around the wreckage. Each of them infected and making way to the shuttle which was partially intact but heavily damaged.

Its compression door had been ripped from the frame of the shuttle upon impact, leaving a six-foot wide doorway to the rear of the craft. Wide open and, unfortunately, a welcome sight for the infected dead.

Still strapped in, the co-pilot's harness would not give an inch. Even with panicked hands pressing against the release lever. Strapped in and left for dead, nothing more than a combat pistol within his reach.

Pulling it, the man understood that shaking hands led to missed shots. So he waited for them. And as the first infected entered into the shuttle with a taste for flesh on its lips, the co-pilot blistered a shot from his pistol. Hitting the trunk of the bastard's body and dropping it quickly.

A standard combat pistol held eight rounds before a reload – the co-pilot still counted nine infected. Based on what he could immediately see.

Shot after shot he dropped them. One at a time. While, in the back of his mind, the co-pilot wondered how he could possibly survive the final two and remain a prisoner to harness straps that nearly bit into his shoulders.

Why should he be any different than the crew of the Lucky Lady? They had all died, so why not him? Perhaps it was his destiny to join them in the land of the afterlife.

As the sliding mechanism of the pistol popped empty, the man let loose his grip. Preparing for the inevitable death which stood before him. Limping closer by the second.

He'd go down swinging, even if that meant swinging an emptied pistol at the approaching infected.

Boom.

A shot so loud that the co-pilot's ears rang hard. The splatter of infected offering a stucco of gore onto his clothes as he fought to understand the terms of the moment. Had he already passed on?

"I hate the fucking undead," Dalton said. "Aggravating bastards."

Was he to be judged in the afterlife by a bearded man who swore like a sailor?

"On your feet dip shit. More of them will be here in no time." Dalton said.

"I...I can't. My harness is broken."

It had finally occurred to the co-pilot that he'd indeed cheated death. Only to fall into the loving arms of a man who also reeked of death, albeit death by cheap cigar smoke."

"Damn," Dalton replied, unsheathing his combat blade and slicing the harness straps in a single motion. "All these muscled up husk laying dead and we get the chicken with a broken wing." he added. Watching the fragile man try to stand.

"Paul."

Had he not been in charge and on the run, Dalton would have backhanded the puny mongrel for making him walk such a distance for nothing. But he understood. He'd been in two such crashes himself.

"Say, Paul," Dalton asked with a studying look. "Did anyone alert the fleet as to what the fuck was going on up there before she went up in flames?"

"Yes," Paul replied. "The pilot stayed behind to send a final distress call."

"Good," Dalton said. "Now grab one of those real guns laying and carry your ass."

"But I've," the shaky man replied. "I have never shot a combat rifle before."

You got to be kidding me.

"Look here," Dalton said, shouldering the rifle and pointing it to the wall, which stood only inches away. "You look between these two pieces of metal standing up. If it ain't wearing a fleet badge, you throw the fucking pain to it. You hear?"

"Yes."

"Alright. So let's boot heel to coat tail it on out before it looks like a Glimmerian parade up in here." Dalton said.

Johnny and his outlaws had been firing off several shots during the conversation. The sound of exploding powder and curse words mixed together like a margarita of white noise.

*

"My lord. Their vessel is destroyed and we await your orders." one of the Viscion offers said.

""My orders?" Ryalk replied. "Harvest the planet. Every last breathing piece of meat." he added with a grin.

"At once."

Ryalk would turn to look across the large room which served as his personal quarters. A hazy crystal covering most of the walls, though a long stretch of it remained clear. Giving him a view of the stars.

Looking down onto the planet below as powdery white clouds drifted across the pale brown landscape, Ryalk welcomed it. He knew there would be plenty of meat for the harvesting. In the back of his mind, he also knew the human fleet would eventually launch an attack on the Viscion. In fact, he had counted on it.

Ryalk understood they were the most dominant race in the Skyla System now. As hundreds of small ships burst from the shuttle bay within his ship, they added to Rylak's feeling of dominance. Each craft loaded with two-dozen highly trained Viscion soldiers. Nearly a thousand of his military about to set boots onto the planet's surface, to be followed in by large refrigerated cargo ships.

The soldiers would eliminate any threats on the ground, then passing the harvested meat onto the large cargo ships to be frozen. Their destroyer class ship watching over from the heavens above.

It was the Viscion way, as it had been for hundreds of years now. Planet after planet, each trying their best to fight back and all of them eventually hanging from the large hooks on board the resource ship which accompanied their destroyer. Frozen until needed.

Ryalk expected the usual swift victory. His record of leadership in battle unrivaled. His confidence, possibly, his Achilles heel. For he'd battled many of soldiers throughout a lifetime, but none like he was about to face. Ever.

Chapter 9

Undead

"I hate the fucking undead." Dalton said as hundreds of Viscion shuttles began falling from the sky. Each of them piercing the atmosphere like crystal shards plunging to the crust of planet below his feet.

"Yea, you said that already," Cambria replied. "Besides, I don't think they're dead. Technically."

"Oh they will be." the wily man in charge replied. Standing in place and lighting a well-deserved cigar as he continued to stare into the sky, as if to dare them.

"We need to get back to the cliffs. We can dig in until they pass through." Johnny said.

"Oh, they ain't passing through." Dalton commented.

"What are you talking about?" Johnny asked.

"He means they're here for us," Cambria replied. "You, Dalton and the rest of us. We're a food source to them. Nothing more."

"Yea, fuck that noise." Johnny replied.

"Our people will come." May'yok declared.

"Yea, but when?" Johnny asked. "We hid out in the rocks for nearly a year before we saw anything but infected."

"Damn good question young man," Dalton replied. "But they will come. And if the Viscion think it's going to be an easy fight," he added. "They are gonna go home crying with a few teeth missing."

"Until then?" Cambria asked.

"Until then we do what the man said," Dalton replied. "We nestle down in the cliffs and do what we can to survive. Pop a cap in anything that comes sniffing."

"Good plan. I like it." Zilne replied.

I'm glad you approve. You muscle-bound cocksucker.

Dalton simply nodded as a gesture of thank you. Thinking back to a time when he and the husk weren't on such good terms. Missing his good friend Roman Raines, though he planned to make the master of blades proud. Dalton would have to do it with a shotgun, a bottle of whiskey and a suspecting eye on Johnny. Not trusting Cambria's ex-lover as far as he could throw him.

"Sir, we'll be arriving momentarily." the deck officer said.

Commander Regent thought about that very statement for a moment. Letting it soak into his very being. The beginning of a war they knew would last for a very, very long time, and his ship would throw the first punch.

He'd taken over command of the God of War, leaving Doctor Arness to his research back on the weapons platform, which continued construction.

A smaller battleship, the Swift Justice, had also been left behind as a safety net of protection as the construction unfolded. Though it dwarfed in comparison to the God of War. The massive ship accompanied by a second, though it had very little power to fight. Its cargo, however, had plenty of potential to kick ass.

Eight hundred fleet marines ready to kick the shit out of anything that moved – armed to the teeth. The plan was a very simple one, put together by Craig and Adam.

The God of War was to arrive and immediately launch dozens of swordfish fighters, capable of ship to ship combat. They had anticipated the Viscion having their own ship to ship fighters, but it was a smokescreen, nothing more. Overwhelming the Viscion for a few moments as the Fleet Foundation dropped its payload of marines ready for a fight, and hauled ass back to the safety of the weapons platform. Quite a long flight, though it would be moving away from the fight which brought great odds of success.

As marines landed on the surface and prepared to give the Viscion ground units something to lose sleep over, the God of War would go head to head with the mighty Viscion warship.

They had both been designed for such a task and each had a commander worthy of accolades. Commander Regent had served in both the first and second Glimmerian wars, and he knew a little something about fighting against those who would take freedom away.

"Good," Commander Regent said after several long moments of silence. "Make sure our nuclear warhead is in place and tell the pilots to be seated and waiting."

"Will do sir."

As Commander Regent stood on the God of War's bridge area, he thought of a fight to come. Soon enough, the Viscion would know that they were on top of their location. The Viscion were sure to be waiting, and the commander hoped for nothing less.

For him, this was never about rescuing a small crew of soldiers. This was about fast-tracking a war that everyone knew in their hearts was coming. Sooner or later.

Any race which feasted on another in such a primal way could only think of themselves as a dominant race. The alpha male. The humans among the fleet would never allow themselves to be second on the food chain. Nor would the Husk, Benzans or any other race within the Skyla System.

For so many generations, unique races within the Skyla System had hated one another. Doing anything they could to be superior. Now they found themselves fighting shoulder to shoulder for the same cause. Freedom. One thing that is worth dying for, no matter the odds of success.

This was their home and they'd fight for it. Even die for it, if need be, though they planned on taking a hell of a lot of Viscion with them.

"Now, now, now!" a voice cried out over the fleet's com system. Seconds later, choppers began to fall from the belly of the Fleet Foundation. It's large interior being used as a staging area.

Hundreds of marines, each of them packed inside of falling shuttles and clinching their rifles with silence. Some of them praying for victory and safe return. Others just succumbing to the intense adrenaline rush which accompanied the fall.

The same fall that Dalton and his crew had ventured through only a short time before. Every soldier knew it and respected it. The free fall into orbit.

Some loved it and others hated it. The fall had become something to talk about while drinking with military friends. The backbone of many stories passed down through generations, and this drop would be no different.

Every soldier falling into battle had his or her own process during the fall. For many, closed eyes and a focused mind helped ease the effects. Other cursed aloud and wondered if their military had not designed the fall on purpose – to test the will of those about to enter battle.

Others prayed.

A few of the shuttles were larger, and would land together to form a forward operating center. Providing troops with a mobile home away from home. Containing the needed supplies and weaponry refills. They had also brought much of the armed equipment within the fleet. Goliath units, surface tanks and mack towers, which served as smaller variations of the infamous mack cannons. Normally, they were mounted underground and punched lead into the sky to battle would be invaders.

Such was the case on Second Glimmeria as technicians worked to install mack cannons throughout the city. The mack towers were much smaller, making them portable. Smaller scale, though packing one hell of a punch, they could fire into the sky or become pivoted to fire at approaching ground units.

It was essential that humanity's survivors didn't half-ass this battle. They could ill afford to be crushed by a race of beings that they knew was more advanced.

Craig flew quickly, leading his squadron of swordfish fighters toward the shard-like frame of the Viscion warship, which looked similar to a gigantic chandelier.

His squadron had two distinct missions. One was to deliver a nuke strike, the other was to cover the Fleet Foundation's ass as it tried to escape from the theater of battle.

They had used a tow ship, just like the one that had towed Craig and Anna to safety. The crude looking ship buried within the squadron and towing an empty swordfish which carried a proximity armed nuke. And their plan seemed to be working.

As the other two squadrons of swordfish broke free and began to scatter toward the Viscion warship, the Viscion gave chase in their own ship to ship fighters. Each of them very reflective and glass-like, though a bit smaller than the swordfish.

It was Craig's group, however, that remained on course. Speeding to the foreign ship as would a spear thrown by a warrior with intention.

"My lord. A group remains directly on course with our ship." one of the officers on board the Viscion warship warned. Closely watching a crystal display that illuminated red.

"Well direct our fire to them." Ryalk replied.

"They are too deep inside of our radius of fire, my lord."

"Recall our fighters and have them..." Ryalk began to reply. His words screeching to a halt as the most powerful of human weapons slammed into the side of their mighty ship. Setting off an explosion very comparable to a massive sunset. Waves rippling throughout the area and causing extensive damage to that portion of the Viscion's ship.

"Report!" Ryalk demanded. Holding firmly to the podium style combat map station in front of him.

"They hit us directly with something, my lord. Structural damage on the starboard side is widespread. We are venting atmosphere."

"Will we survive it?" Ryalk asked.

"We are still in the fight, sir, but I'm hearing mass-casualties on the starboard side, decks four through seventeen."

Ryalk thought about that statement for a moment. Nearly a fourth of his entire crew killed, badly wounded or missing following the explosion.

He had certainly underestimated the humans and their ability to build war technology. His arrogance the cause of death for so many among his race. It angered him, though he would need to hold onto that anger. Fearing another misstep because of arrogance.

"Face our port side to them and instruct our cannons to begin firing at will."

"Yes my lord."

"Alamious," Ryalk said. "Do not hold back."

"As you wish, sir."

The nuke strike had angered Ryalk to the point of no longer wanting the humans among the fleet as a food source. At least not the ones who fought against him this very moment. He wanted them dead. Painfully.

"They're coming around!"

"As expected," Commander Regent replied. "Fire at will. Instruct our fighters to remain in flight and have them concentrate on the Viscion's starboard side. The planet's surface is their fallback point should they be hit. Have them fallback to our forward operating base."

"Yes sir."

The scene was one of storybook legend. Two galleons of the sea turning to line their cannons directly onto the other, though these galleons floated in an ocean of deep black lifelessness.

Each would have their chance to bring total annihilation to the other.

*

"What the hell?" Cambria asked, walking to the entrance of their cavern and looking to the sky above.

"What is it?" Johnny added.

"That's the cavalry." Dalton replied with pride.

"Lots of explosions up there." Cambria said.

"That's war dear," Dalton said. "The price for freedom."

They nearly hit the hard soil at the cave's entrance as a loud popping sound began to string off.

Choppers incoming and doing anything but easing their way down. After the first handful, enemy fire began to stream up from the surface. Large blue tunnels of light, presumably lasers, which serrated several of the choppers filled with hopeful marines. The alien fire returned by painful human lead zinging to the surface at alarming rates. Compliments of the chain guns mounted to the fleet's choppers.

"It's about to be on." Dalton said.

"From the sounds of it, both sides are sparing no expense." May'yok replied.

"Gear up. We got to get to it." Dalton said.

"Bad idea." Johnny said.

"I agree." Cambria added.

"Ain't nobody taking votes," Dalton said. "This is combat. Our only goal is to get down there and help any fleet marines we can. Period."

"Dalton, it sounds like the end of the world down there," Cambria pleaded. "You can't seriously think that our going down there could be anything other than bad?"

"It doesn't matter what I think. It's what soldiers do. They fight. I have to get down there and protect my brothers in arms because that's the code." Dalton said.

His comments met with universal agreement by the husk.

They had long been proud warriors. Knowing nothing but the code of gallant.

"I'm not a soldier," Johnny said. "And if you care anything about Cambria, you'd want her to stay put. Out of harm's way." he added in a questioning manner.

"Leave her here with you, right?" Dalton asked.

"What?" Cambria asked.

"He's been giving you the sweet eye since we landed. Now tell me I'm wrong, Johnny boy?" Dalton asked.

"Nope," Johnny replied. "You're not. I've always loved Cambria. She can change the uniform she wears or the man that's hanging off of her arm. But that won't change how I feel about her. Nothing will. I care enough about her to not want her to go down there into that shit storm of bullets."

Johnny's words sank into Cambria's deepest of thoughts. Having no idea her ex-lover still cared for her in such a way. Complicating her own heart a bit at the worst of times.

"I'm about to tell you something boy, so listen up and listen close," Dalton said. Continuing to pack additional ammunition as he did so. "Having the fastest revolver hand doesn't mean a damn thing when you're scared of getting your hands dirty."

"Scared?" Johnny asked.

"That's right, I said scared," Dalton replied. "Killing a few men in the streets gun to gun is one thing. I've killed too. Each of them deserved it and it was done to protect the lives of those fighting around me, so we could protect the lives of chickenshits like you," Dalton added. "Now I'm sure you got some wise-lipped response, but you can just keep it. Wise lips don't win freedom, it's men like me and guns like this." Dalton said, grabbing the under pump of his shotgun and readying it with a single motion.

For a moment, the entire group drew quiet. Explosions and gunfire in the near horizon like audio wildfire.

"So you keep your ass up here and live in a cave if you want to. It's your life to waste. I plan on marching my ass on down there and getting into the fight. Any man that wants to stay here, do it. Fine by me. When the shit's over, I'll pull back off of this shitting rock and leave your asses high and dry," Dalton said. "And Cambria, the same goes for you. I love you. You know I do. But living in the past and the present isn't happening with me. I see you deep in thought, so, if you want to be with me, be with me. If not, the best of luck to the both of you. Now if you'll excuse me, perfectly good soldiers are dying down there."

With that, Dalton began walking down a steep incline which would eventually take him to the fight.

Meanwhile, Cambria remained stunned. Trying to search her soul and doing so as quickly as possible. Her love for Dalton was undeniable – her feelings for Johnny still there. Cambria was torn between both men, knowing only one thing. She needed to make a decision, and fast.

Dalton James waited for no one.

Gunship is an ongoing pulp fiction series. Since 2011, John Davis has added content to the universe every few months and has recently announced a prequel series.

About the Author

As a brand new author in 2011, John M. Davis published Gunship and became an overnight success as it peaked at #2 (Amazon Kindle). Since then, John has published over 30 stories, including two #1 bestsellers (Gunship #2, Fleet). Not only does he write full-time, but John is also pursuing a graduate degree in history. He also runs a podcast (The Book Commander Podcast) and helps other authors with writing, publishing, and marketing, free of charge. That, along with the fact that John is a bonafide country boy, has earned him the moniker "Book Commander" within writing circles.

John has been married to the woman of his dreams for 18 years and counting! They have two fantastic kids (both of them avid readers) and currently reside in a small town in Southwest Virginia.

John shares a passion for Nintendo with his son while he and his daughter are fanatics of the CBS TV show Survivor. In fact, John co-produces a fan-made survivor show called Claytor Lake Survivor with his best friend and podcast producer, James Mann. John is a Canadian Football League fan and is a shareholder of the Saskatchewan Roughriders. He is also an Evanescence super fan.

You can find out more by visiting his website or by using his hashtag on social media.

johndavisbooks.wordpress.com

#bookcommander

