GUNSHIP: BOOK 9
Written by John Macallen Davis
The Gunship Series
Gears and Spears
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical people, events or places are used fictitiously. Any other names, places, events or characters are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 John Michael Davis
Editing by: Daniél Lecoq
All rights reserved, including the right to copy this book or portions of this book in any form. For more information, please email [email protected]
First edition February 2017
If you are an author in search of quality professional editing, please email [email protected] and should you encounter any errors during this reading experience, feel free to email us so that we may correct them and improve this work.
Originally published as One Last Hero.
“Time travel is such a magic concept.”
Table of Contents
About the Author
The wolves arrived shortly after humanity’s exodus fleet departed. Yes, we knew they were coming but we hadn’t anticipated their numbers. The krall were a hundred-thousand ships strong, accompanied by their home planet.
Slightly larger than Glimmeria, the krall’s home world was a mixture of brilliant reds and yellows that swirled beautifully while consuming anything in its path. Our sun was still present throughout part of the day, as was the moon at night, though the home world, also known as The Scope, filled a sky which used to hold billowing clouds and twinkling stars.
The Scope brought with it catastrophic weather as the tides shifted to levels we’d never before experienced. Places that once were considered paradise because of their pristine waters and beaches of pure white sand – gone. They now rested beneath the rising tide, as did the hundreds of thousands of lives that once called such placed home.
A large mechanical device orbited the Scope, which seemed to allow the krall to move their planet as they saw fit. The Scope, which was in fact the mechanical device in question, had led our people to adopt the name universally for both fixtures. We thought of them as one in the same and cursed the day they’d arrived.
The krall (wolves, as we’d come to know them) were here for a single purpose. Their race had conquered many star systems before ours and they were a race of warriors. Every warrior needed his meat. Humanity, along with the beings we’d come to know as allies (vampires and orc, among others) were to be harvested as a food source.
The krall began attacking our star system with a ruthlessness that is indescribable. Everything from their mighty warships to the standard rifle of a grunt soldier was powered by the eerie substance, as were the breathing devices they needed in order to survive on the surface of many of our planets. They had expected to swoop in like thieves in the night and begin skinning their food source.
What the krall hadn’t expected was how technologically advanced we were. In fact, their initial attacks lasted for several weeks before we finally pushed them back. We had hoped that this horrible race would simply move along and learn from its mistake. We’d soon realize how badly they needed us as a food source. A second assault commenced and nearly broke the back of humanity in the process. The Skyla System had once been fractured by racism and religion. None of that seemed relevant enough to fight about any longer. Now, we fought alongside one another in the face of the coming slaughter.
It was us against them.
The wolves were several feet taller than our tallest soldiers and they were stringy in appearance, though very, very strong. Several breeds of krall existed, but they all shared the same pale yellow skin covered in dog mop fur with eyes that burned with resplendent yellow. Their teeth, though very elongated, were very similar to that of a wolf preparing to strike. More often than not, we referred to the krall as wolves.
Wolves could be killed, too, as could the krall. For all of their intimidation and undeniable prowess in battle, a dead krall was nothing more than a dead lump of something that used to be feared. Much like the wolf. It helped us continue the fight.
I wish I could tell you how this story ends, but I can’t.
There’s plenty more dying to be done on both sides of this war. There’s still so much that we don’t know about the krall and, to their displeasure, humanity is not the weak race they believed us to be. We’ve learned the art of war by killing each other for thousands of years. Most importantly, there’s something both primitive and intricate about being thrust into a situation where you must fight in order to live. Survival is something we’ve proven ourselves damned good at so far.
The exodus fleet left the rest of us behind to our fate. It’s easy to cast blame onto them, but any of us would have left, too, had we been given the chance. The wolves arrived shortly after and now, four years later, the Skyla System in consumed with war. We may be losing, but I often wonder if the krall have it within them to see this forever war through. I don’t-”
“Never understood why you did that shit.”
Jalen smiled wide as Tony glanced up from his journal. A flicker of light brilliantly cascaded itself off of Tony’s rugged-looking face. He was unshaven and carried the black soot on his face that is normally associated with war. Jalen’s was a bit cleaner, though just as black. He was human first – African American second.
“I write in my journal so people will understand what happened.” Tony replied with aggravation.
You could hear the heavy Glimmerian fight in his voice. Though he was quite shorter than Jalen and certainly not as muscular, Tony Alessi was a fighter. Much like his squad-mate Jalen Locke, Tony had seen four complete years of service. He’d been a farmer in the hills of Glimmeria before the krall invasion, whereas Jalen had been a fitness trainer…or some shit like that. Certainly nothing close to the lifestyle of farming, which was brutally tough and rewarded with happiness more than it did money. Living without a lot of spendable cash had introduced Tony to the passion of reading. Writing in his journal had come along shortly after.
“People already know what the fuck happened here. We’ve been getting our asses kicked for half a decade now.” Jalen replied.
“Speak for yourself, big man. I’ve got 114 wolf kills to my credit and my dick’s still swinging.”
“Gentlemen?” their lieutenant asked as he slid into the cold, hard ground where their foxhole rested in the bewilderment of night.
“I was just asking Tony why he keeps writing in that goddamn journal of his.” Jalen admitted.
As their fourth and final squad member, Amanda Quinn slid easily into the foxhole, the sniper glanced to her commanding officer. She could see the friction building between the two men and honestly didn’t know who would win a fight among them. Amanda hoped her lieutenant would step in and deescalate the situation – which he did.
“Because I can, that’s why.” Tony scoffed.
“Yea, we’ll it’s fucking annoying!”
Visit: http://www.Shakespir.com/books/view/701220 to purchase this book to continue reading. Show the author you appreciate their work!