“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.” Cambria replied.
“I coined it and I'll decide when it dies out.” Dalton said with a grin. 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.
*
“Alright Adam, it's time.” Sarah said.
As she stood waiting, 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.
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.
“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.
“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 soon to be queen, though it would never be. With a single motion, the gunslinger grabbed the iron horse from its holster and jolted up to fire a single shot.
Piercing the neck of Sarah Blaine, Queen of Vampires. Rendering her truly dead.
Blindly firing several more shots into the crowd of Hunters in chaos, Adam scooped up his son and dove behind the thick of a large tree. Its trunk providing 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 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 raining down from the heavens and punishing what remained of the Hunters.
A single shot remained in the chamber of Adam's holster as the champion smuggler cried fiercely. Part of it 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.
As the exploding rounds which fell from blue skies above began to thin out, Adam could hear familiar voices around him. 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 once more. Every workstation going as they continued to recognize the day schedule in deep orbit.
As Dalton James read a single sheet of paper delivered to him, the man in charge began to smile wide. Knowing Adam had reclaimed his son and stuck it to the woman behind such a string of shitty luck.
“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.
As the enlisted members working on the bridge of the large ship began clapping, Dalton settled back in a bit. Proud of his good friend Adam and in 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. 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.
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.
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. Blame 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. As for the crewmen around him, fuck 'em. How many of them had ran from bloodthirsty vampires or fought against the Legion?
Looking around the bridge, his guess was none. 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.
“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 gravely wrong. Pushing him to grab a com and answer the message himself.
“Phantom, this is Commander James. We read you loud and clear.”
A moment passed with nothing. Perhaps 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.
“
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.”
“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 strikes appeared on their radar system. Confirming Craig's story.
“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 engines 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.”
“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 get. 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.”
It took only moments for his order to be executed. Red distress beacons popping up all over their grid system of radar. 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.”
Normally his words would have brought laughter, but not at this moment. Three large ships now appearing 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 tossing wildly, glowing yellow flashes zoomed past by the hundreds. Lead zipping by and tearing 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 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 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.”
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.”
With that statement, the transmission ended and chatter continued to light up the com system. Pilots speaking with those 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.”
*
“Sir, they should be close enough.” a crewman announced as so many others looked on. Dozens of soldiers and staff waiting in silence as their commander plotted his next move.
“Unidentified vessels, this is Commander Dalton James. Please identify yourselves and your intentions.”
The Fleet Page 5
