Gunship Read online

  Gunship

  Trilogy Edition

  Written by John M. Davis

  Copyright 2012 Serenity Valley Publishing

  All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.

  Trilogy Edition

  Editing: Aaron Rommel

  First Printing: November 2012

  For McKenzie and Dawson.

  Gunship

  Strangest weather. Adam thought as the high winds continued to push across the barren, almost lifeless ground outside. The border planets always seemed to have the toughest climate, no matter the season.

  When you were on the fringe of charted space, you could be sure of a few things. Rough weather, rougher living and the roughest damn drinking establishments known to mankind. Those were the facts.

  “Another hand, or should we just count you out Michaels?” the dealer asked, a thick beard of black covering most of his experienced face as he continued shuffling the deck of cards, only slightly moving his thumbs as the cards crisply fell into place.

  “Let's get something straight right here and now. You don't ever count Captain Adam Michaels out.” he said as he raised his glass for a long drink of the roughest ale he'd ever fallen victim to.

  “The pay in for this round is seventy credits.” The dealer said as he surveyed the table, giving his best effort in an attempt to block out the dozens of scoundrels in the background drinking ale and most likely telling lies.

  “I'm out.” Captain Michaels said quietly as he stood up and walked away from the table, doing his best to ignore the taunts and insults directed his way as if to keep some of his dignity.

  “Watching the news huh?” he said as he sat down on a raggedy wooden stool beside Dalton at the bar.

  Wearing a long, brown duster and a stubbly dirt colored beard hiding the scars of his past scuffles, Dalton had been a part of Adam's crew for nearly five years. Old military friends, fighting in the Glimmerian War had brought them close together, each earning the trust and respect of the other.

  “Hell no,” Dalton replied with a slyly grinned face.

  Adam laughed as he motioned the bartender over to them, ordering a tall glass of water as covertly as possible in order to maintain a decent reputation among this night's patrons.

  “All I'm hearing is some pencil necked jackass talking about impending civil war between the colonies. You think I give a damn about politics?” Dalton asked.

  Obviously having already consumed his weight in alcohol, or even more if it was a good night, he continued puffing on a withered cigar that sat limply in the corner of his mouth.

  “Tastes like watered down piss if you ask me, or even weaker than that,” Dalton said loudly, with his full intention of the words hitting the bartender's ears. “Not that I would know what watered down piss tastes like, or any piss for that matter,” he quickly added as he turned to convince Michaels of the fact. “Of course, if I have, I wouldn't know about it.” Dalton added, drawing a strange look from the Captain.

  Adam had drifted away from the conversation a bit, the loud events of the bar in full swing becoming nothing more than white noise as he noticed a man enter the front door of Paulie's Bar. Not the run of the mill scum that usually frequented the place, this man carried himself with a certain swagger, there was a military feel about him.

  He looked the part well enough too, with the dark green cargo pants, solid black t-shirt and shaved head which had a look of shimmering marble to it.

  Michaels had needed another crew member for some time now, a hired gun if nothing else. He and Dalton could both handle themselves well in a firefight, but an extra set of arms slinging shells would always come in handy in his line of work. He was a cargo transporter. Not the kind you contact through a government office, more like the type that considered a checklist of felonies to be an honest day's work. The black market kind. Transporting things that needed to be moved, all while skirting the law and dealing with only the worst of the worst. That was his job, and he did it well.

  “Be back in a couple of minutes.” he said to Dalton as he stood up from the sad excuse for a bar, which was nothing more than aged wooden boards poorly assembled by hand.

  Adam made his way toward the stranger sitting at one of the corner tables as the smell of must, smoke and public perspiration hit him in the face like the heel of the heaviest of boots.

  “Mind if I sit?” Michaels asked as the stranger glanced up at him for a moment, quickly going back to eating his plate of bread without so much as a word. “Every single time I come here, the bread seems to get worse,” Adam said as the man continued to eat without missing a beat. “Got work here or just passing through?” Adam added, hoping for some kind of response.

  “You Legion?” the stranger said, looking up from his plate with stern intentions.

  “Legion? No. Hell no,” Michaels quickly replied. “Far from it friend. Legion patrols and my ship might be on a first name basis, but it's for all the wrong reasons.” he added.

  “In that case, no I don't have work yet. Not sure about the just passing through part, I'll get back to you on that one.” the stranger replied.

  “I see. I'm former military myself, if you don't mind me asking, where did you serve your time?” Adam asked.

  “Gali Special Forces.” the stranger replied.

  “Fresh out I take it?” Adam asked.

  “It's complicated.” the stranger replied.

  “It usually is. Interested in a job?” Michaels quickly asked, almost expecting the answer to be an even quicker no.

  “Who's asking?” the stranger calmly answered.

  “Captain Adam Michaels. Rather not get into the details of the type of work we do, at least not until we make it official. For now, I guess you could consider the type of work we do to be, well, off the grid.” Michaels replied.

  “Off the grid is where I live.” the stranger said, as he continued to eat without pause.

  “I see..and you would be?” the Captain asked.

  “Roman Raines,” the stranger responded without hesitation.

  Finishing his meal, Roman pushed the empty plate to the side, its thick green glass dragging across the table's coarse wooden surface as he looked at the Captain. “What kind of job?” he asked.

  “Well, we do pretty much anything that needs to be done. From medical supplies to weapons, we transport anything that pays well enough, under the radar of course.” Michaels replied cautiously.

  Roman gave no reply, just an ice cold stare as a welcome for Adam to continue laying out the details.

  “Truth is, sometimes what we take people aren't willing to let go of. Other times, when we deliver the goods, people start second guessing the whole payment process and, well, gunfights tend to ensue. Would be your job to help protect me, my crew and our ship. In return, you get ten percent of the take and free room and board. I decide to let you go, you go. You decide to leave, you are free to do so.” Michaels explained in a stern tone of his own.“Sounds fair enough. I'll think it over.” Roman replied in a humble tone, his desolate blue eyes focused on the Captain.

  “Well enough then, I'll look forward to it. You can find me at the bar next to the drunk in the brown coat, the one yelling about the alcohol.” Michaels said as he stared in the direction of the bar, watching Dalton bitch the bartender out over the house brew as only a drunkard could do.

  Slowly standing to his feet, Adam took a deep breath as he began heading back toward the bar, his thick leather boots striking hard against the creaking wooden floorboards as he switched himself into babysitting mode.

  “What'd he say?” Dalton asked, wiping a bit of ale from his l
ips with the sleeve of his duster.

  “He's thinking it over.” Michaels replied as he sat back down and motioned for a glass of whatever it was they were passing off as the house special here at Paulie's.

  “Well, that's damn thoughtful of him,” Dalton said with a sarcastic look on his face as he yelled to the bartender. “Hey! Do you have anything stronger than this shit?” he yelled, the chubby man decked out in what looked to be borderline rags for clothes quickly nodded yes and motioned that he would be over in a few moments.

  “Well, let's hope he decides soon, otherwise this trip has been a disaster. Jones fucking us on a deal we came through with, it's been raining since we landed, and who only knows what this shit is that I'm drinking.” Dalton said under his breath as he turned the glass up, never flinching as every drop of it punished his throat on the way down.

  The night continued on its normal course of action in an establishment such as Paulie's. Stories being conjured and told by those who consumed the most drink. Poker games filled with lies, heavy smoke and even heavier drinking. Pickup line after pickup line used on one of the very few women brave enough to set foot inside the run down dwelling. Not even several hours of drinking what could have doubled as Gunship fuel had Dalton the least bit sideways, although Captain Michaels kept telling himself when it came time to stand up and walk away, he would be hard pressed to.

  Yep, everything seemed normal on this rainy night, that is until Michaels caught glimpse of a group of Legion guards passing a nearby window; moments from entering the bar.

  “Ah shit.” Michaels said in a low and discouraged voice.

  “What is it?” Dalton said, turning to the door as it flew open.

  The Legion soldiers were unmistakable, wearing the dense red outfits that were finely stitched and trimmed in black leather. Solid black riot style helmets with the standard tinted face shields.

  “Ah shit.” Dalton said moments later, agreeing with the Captain's previous assessment.

  He slowly began to reach for his short barrel shotgun, which looked antique. But the gun, which was covered in a dingy haze, had gotten him out of more than one close encounter.

  Michaels quickly grabbed his arm and gave a slight nod. “Not yet, too many of them. Chances are they aren't even here for us.” he said as the four guardsmen quickly approached them with battle rifles aimed and ready.

  “Captain Adam Michaels!” one of them shouted in a loud and administrative voice.

  “Really? Is it too much to ask for one lucky break now and then? Just ONE?” Michaels said under his breath, almost as if he were talking to some higher power.

  Anyone who had known Adam long enough; knew all too well the fact that he had the worst luck of anyone in the Skyla System, or possibly even all of charted space. Women, authorities, games of chance, it didn't matter. He was the unluckiest man alive, and he felt abandoned, if not shunned by the Gods because of it.

  “You are under arrest and subject to prosecution for possession of illegal materials per item seventy-one of the Legion Articles.” one of the officers pronounced aloud as two more of them disarmed both Michaels and Dalton.

  The fourth guard yelled “Back, otherwise you will be getting the same!” as Roman approached the conflict.

  “That's kind of the idea,” he replied as he looked into the direction of Captain Michaels. “Twenty percent sounds about right, don't you think?” Roman asked Michaels as the men remained under gunpoint.

  “What do I think? I think they should be arresting you for attempted robbery. Hell, I would rather rot in a Legion prison cell for the next decade of my life. Twenty percent?” Michaels asked in disbelief.

  “Have it your way friend.” Roman said as he turned to start walking out of the bar.

  “On the other hand, fifteen percent sounds about right.” Michaels replied.

  Roman turned back to face them for a moment, his blank stare was an obvious sign of mental calculations at work, not to mention the thought of Adam negotiating a deal while being arrested.

  “I can do fifteen.” he said as he walked toward the Legion guards and their drunken prisoners.

  “STAND DOWN!” one of the soldiers yelled as a last warning; not even remotely phasing Roman.

  In what seemed like the most basic of motions, Roman thrust his arm under one of the Legion guards rifle hand, sending a shot bursting into the air. In that same moment, he buried a hard fist into the ribcage of the defenseless man of the law, immediately grabbing the vacated rifle from the air and aiming down the iron sights with precision. Surprised, the remaining three Legion troops fumbled with their rifles for a moment before laying them on the ground and reaching skyward.

  “Well, you can damn sure pick 'em, I'll give you that much.” Dalton said to Adam as he collected their weapons from one of the hostage soldiers. “Yea, I would have to agree,” Michaels said, looking at Roman with amazement.

  “Best be getting out of here, but before we do.” Michaels said calmly as he returned to the card table, pulling an empty cloth sack from one of the large pockets of his faded brown coat; quickly filling it as he raked the card games winnings of every man into it.

  “Like I said folks, don't ever count Captain Adam Michaels out.” he said as he grinned widely, obviously proud of robbing the men at gunpoint.

  As Dalton grabbed an almost full bottle of whiskey and raced toward the door, keeping his piece pointed in the direction of the Legion soldiers, Adam glanced back at Roman for a moment.

  “You got the job.” he said as he dashed out of the door.

  It wasn't the first time Roman had disarmed four men at once, although to his knowledge, it was the first time he had done so and then followed it up with chasing two heavily intoxicated fugitives down one of the busiest streets on the small mining planet of Antillia.

  He began to wonder if he had made the right choice, trying his best to figure out what fifteen percent actually meant in terms of money. At this point, it didn't matter. He couldn't stay here, he was wanted by the Gali government for unspeakable crimes; as well as the Legion because of the incident only moments ago. So at least for the moment he was part of the Gunship crew.

  “Kelly, get ready to get us the hell out of here!” Dalton yelled into a com unit as he sprinted down the filthy streets of the impoverished town, both Adam and Roman right behind as the rain poured down; a staggering stench of cheap whiskey all over Dalton like a thrift store blanket.

  “Copy that. Anything I should know about?” a female voice responded.

  “The Usual. Just have us ready to lift when we get there, gonna have a whole lot of the wrong kind of company on our asses.” Dalton replied.

  “Not again.” Kelly responded in a puzzled voice.

  Within minutes, they could see the ship. It was easy to spot to the naked eye, strikingly antique; with the only difference being antique gave the impression of value. The Gunship that Adam had poured so much of his heart and soul into, had more of a junkyard feel to it. Different shades of gray on its exterior gave away the fact that it had been pieced together from other ships.

  “I may just hang out here and take my chances.” Roman said jokingly, earning an immediate response from the Captain.

  “It doesn't look like much, but it's pulled me through a hell of a lot of scrapes.”

  As they approached the faded blue metal grating of the ship's ramp, a thin Asian man with long brown hair and a white tank top that was littered with grease stains slowly walked down, holding Roman at the end of a single barrel shotgun.

  “Who's the trailer?” he asked.

  “Relax Kato, he's with us.” Adam said as he waved everyone inside.

  “May want to put the toy away tan man, before someone gets hurt.” Roman replied with heavy sarcasm as he walked right by Kato unwaveringly.

  “Don't judge a book by its cover I guess,” Roman said as he looked around once aboard. “I'm impressed.” he added, his eyes skimming the cargo area of the ship.

  Sever
al wooden crates were stacked nearby, as well as a couple of very large bins made of reinforced sheet metal. The outside of the ship may have looked like a train wreck on its best day, but Roman immediately recognized the interior to be that of a Gunship.

  Once a very popular model, the Glimmerian forces leaned on them heavily during their loss to the Legion in the first Glimmerian War. Once the war had come to an end, they were considered obsolete and quickly phased out in favor of more high tech vessels. The more advanced things became on a ship, the more likely they were to fall apart when you needed them the most, which is why Adam preferred the older model ship. It was solid, built to take a pounding and so basic that it reminded the Captain of himself; his core values simple, yet unwavering.

  Kato followed the men inside aggressively hitting a red button by the door, followed by a hard turn of a switch to seal it airtight before they took off for orbit.

  “Punch it Kelly, I'm on my way up,” Michaels said as he pulled the com unit from his pocket and headed up a narrow steel ladder that would eventually lead him to the bridge of the ship. “Dalton, put Roman in a room and give him the grand tour. I'll catch up with everyone shortly.” the Captain added as he disappeared up the ladder.

  “You're gonna love the armory.” Dalton said proudly as he motioned Roman to walk with him.

  Kato stayed in the cargo bay, shotgun over his shoulder as he held onto a stainless steel handle bolted to the wall until they broke orbit from this sad excuse of a planet, the vibrations of liftoff jolting throughout the ship.

  Shortly after the Gunship had fully entered the system, Michaels met with Roman on the observation deck of the ship. It was nothing more than a small balcony with two large windows made from hardened glass looking out across the stars, but it was considered to be the perfect place to talk business amongst the crew.

  For the next hour or so, the Captain heard all about Roman's past; or so he thought.

  Everything from his many years of service with the Gali special forces, to the recent events during the past couple of years that had him moving planet to planet, doing his best to elude the Legion while making a living for himself.