The Fleet (15 page)

“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
harvestable 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.

*

“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.

Chapter
3

*The Blood War*

“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.