The Fleet (12 page)

“Nope,” Johnny
said. “But I do know it doesn't matter at this point. Hell, beans
is a lot better than most like us have. The ones lucky enough to
have made it this far in one piece.”

“Just feels
like we've been abandoned. That's all.” another one of the cowboys
said. Spitting a bit of tobacco down at the entrance to their
large, dimly lit cave.

“We were
abandoned hundreds of years before this,” Johnny replied. “Our
people have been on their own out in the drifts for centuries now.
The Legion didn't give a rat's ass about us, nor the Colonials. And
you can bet your sweet one that whoever is left is right there with
'em,” Johnny said. “Gotta keep surviving. That's what we gotta
do.”

“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 you'll be eating something besides
beans, eh?”

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 slowly 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
to Resilience 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
Resilience'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 scare
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 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 that would 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 less than two-feet wide.

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, living 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.

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...the
hell?” 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 seeming to be 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
digging into the thick black leather.

She first
heard a clicking sound which was followed by the loud roar of
thrusters behind them. Their shuttle 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.

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 changing 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 deed.

“Geartown is a
no go.” the pilot announced.

“The fuck?”
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 separating 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 slamming into the metal bulkhead a bit as the
shuttle shifted its direction suddenly.

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. Wondering if everyone she'd ever known had
joined the ranks of infected dead.

*

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.