The Fleet (10 page)

“I think you
underestimate how many infected roam the planets beneath our
ships.” Dalton said.

“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,” 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 going through with their plan
anyway. 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.” Dalton replied.

“Good,”
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 will be
harvesting infected only, right?” Dalton asked.

“That was not
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 fuck with 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 or 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.

“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 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.

Though he'd
retrieved both a shotgun and sidearm, Dalton's iron horse of
revolving pain remained in the box. A Viscion sidearm 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.”

“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 shifting a bit as sunlight began to pour in. Or so he
imagined.

The silhouette
of Dalton James standing 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; 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 Adam had
ever seen. And he'd seen his share. Each of the orc-like soldiers
cut from the same cloth. A cloth made of muscle and bad looks.

“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 the feisty 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. “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.”

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. 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.”

Adam did just
that. Wondering how far his old 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 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 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 Hammer resupplied, get it
back in the air and get a damn meal with your whining ass.” he
added with a grin.

“I'm
requesting that we begin construction on a small space platform to
orbit Second Glimmeria. A weapons platform that will defend our
world against the Viscion, should it come down to it.”

“And what do
you expect us to build this space platform out of?” one of the
ranking men questioned.

“The Rocky
Top,” Dalton replied. “That massive son of a bitch barely hangs in
the sky as it is. It sucks up resources and costs us more than it's
worth to keep airborne. It should be simple enough to modify it
into a weapons platform with some of that ingenuity you men are so
famous for.”

He was blowing
sunshine up their asses, of course. But the Rocky Top was in
horrible condition. Had they ventured out into the black of deep
space, the large ship of nearly a thousand souls likely wouldn't
have made it through the first month without needing the fleet to
halt for repairs. Much like a very old automobile, it was made from
heavy steel, basic, came with an insane amount of mileage and
sucked down fuel like an alcoholic in the security of his own
bedroom.

Good riddance
to the eye-sore piece of shit. It would serve the fleet well as a
floating satellite filled with weaponry. Just in the fact that
they'd save on fuel, and every single man in the room knew it to be
true.

“I think both
of your requests are reasonable enough,” one of the high-ranking
officers replied. “I don't see either of them hitting a snag, as
long as the doctor is willing to oversee the construction of such a
weapons platform?”

“Indeed.”
Doctor Arness replied.

“One final
request.” Dalton said.

What are
you doing, rubbing a genie lamp over there?
Adam thought.

It took
everyone a moment to quiet down, but eventually the large room fell
to silence. Awaiting Dalton's next words.

“I'm asking
that Adam Michaels be placed in charge of our efforts to rebuild
down here on the ground.”

“What?” Adam
asked.

“You're the
best man for the job. You care about people and can think on your
feet. Besides, you have a son to think about now. You don't need to
be out in the black living in cramped quarters,” Dalton replied.
“Now tell me I'm wrong?”

He wasn't, and
Adam knew it. For him, it was more of a search for the right words
to say thank you to his longtime friend. Giving both Adam and his
son a chance to actually live a somewhat normal life.

“I appreciate
it. Truly Dalton, I do.” Adam finally replied. Doing so on the
brink of tears.

“We've no
problem with that. Lieutenant Michaels is highly decorated as an
officer,” one of the officials said. “The question is, where will
you be during all of this?”

“I'm spending
a few days alone with my honey,” Dalton replied. “At which time
I'll lace the old boots up one more time and take a small team of
volunteers to rescue any survivors I can.”

“Are you sure
that's wise?” Doctor Arness asked. “I mean, with the Viscion out
there lurking.”

“I live by
three simple rules, doctor,” Dalton replied. “Love your woman,
hoard your liquor and protect those who can't protect themselves,”
he added. “So I'll be hitting the drifts first in search of
Cambria's friends and family. Working my way back. Fuck the Viscion
and anything they got going on.”