Free The Fleet by John Davis Page A

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 promising himself and anyone else who would listen, that
he'd never again set foot on anything that pulled his feet from the
ground.
    Lies, of
course, but he always was slow to learn his lesson.
    This was
different. He didn't fear having to survive a third crashed ship,
though another go around with that would have been a bitch.
    Dalton thought
of a brand new race 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
leads to shooting. Be it shot glasses or gunfire,” 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 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.”
    “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. 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 grinned a bit. Quickly filling the
shuttle's cabin with smoke. Irritating every soldier with him,
while never giving a damn.
     
    *
     
    Nearly a year
aboard ships in the black nearly brought Adam down. 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 walking ahead as fresh air swooped in and brushed
across Adam's face.
    It felt like
paradise. A bit cold, certainly nothing of the sandy beach
lifestyle – but manageable. Enough to live year round wearing no
coat, though he'd already started picturing Dalton draped in brown
leather and 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. Ever stop longing for her
presence. Her touch.
    Seeing her
nearly killed his inner soul. The queen of vampires with 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 over the line. His love for Avery 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