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    Gunship: Gunship, #1
    Gunship: Gunship, #1
    Gunship: Gunship, #1
    Ebook109 pages1 hour

    Gunship: Gunship, #1

    By John M. Davis

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    About this ebook

    In a distant galaxy, planets are on the brink of civil war. While the totalitarian Legion prepares its troops, Captain Adam Michaels sees opportunity in the field of smuggling. Along with the rest of the Gunship's crew, Adam will chase their biggest payday yet. Of course, they'll have to face vampires, orc, true love, and plenty of other perils along the way. Gunship is the perfect mix of whiskey, saloons, spaceships and alien races.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBook Commander
    Release dateAug 31, 2017
    ISBN9781386644484
    Gunship: Gunship, #1

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      Book preview

      Gunship - John M. Davis

      Author's Note

      When I originally published this series in 2011, part of the world was ready for it and part of the world never will be. See, I'm a huge fan of 1920s-1950s pulp fiction, all of the Golden Age of Radio programs, and classic television. A vast majority of the negativity surrounding Gunship is the product of a modern world expecting the modern novel when, in fact, this is serialized pulp fiction. I've always wanted to do something different and in finding my voice as a writer I discovered that I'm a displaced 1930s pulp fiction author. What's a guy to do?

      My writing is a mashup of everything that I enjoy reading: my tough guys are full of bravado, my leading ladies are even tougher. As an author, I realize that there's a huge market for love stories about teenage vampires, but I would rather sell fewer stories and write about real vampires. Apparently many readers agree, enough so that this series has given birth to three #1 bestsellers. That said, my kind of action is not one size fits all. I offer the kind of fiction that can only be found here, and I offer several of them absolutely free. Thank you, dear reader, for giving them a go.

      Table of Contents

      Part One

      Part Two

      Part Three

      About the Author

      Part One

      ––––––––

      Of all the planets in the Skyla System, Adam found himself here.

      It was nothing more than a small cropping planet filled with the swine of society. A moon, really, filled with those who chose not to be found.  Adam sat quietly for well over an hour, having thought long and hard about the choices that had led him here. Who else was there to blame? He'd had a decent upbringing and been given the same chances as the successful batch of his friends: doctors, executives, hell even a professional skiff ball player in one case.

      But Adam was a smuggler of illegal goods.

      Some folks tried to dress it up with fancy words that didn't quite fit, but at the end of the day he took things that were stolen and delivered them to the highest bidder. He was good at it, too. One of the best. But that didn't make it any easier to swallow. His father had always tried to steer him onto the right path. He once told Adam to have ambition in life. Instead, Adam found himself in and out of prisons up until the First Glimmerian War, at which time he'd been volunteered for service against the Legion.

      There were so many times when he thought of giving it up – every near-death encounter was followed with an empty promise from Adam to himself: never again. It was the money. The money was just too good. Adam could live far better than any professional skiff ball player, but the money came and went. When the job was big enough, the payout unlocked a lifestyle that few would ever know, and the risk was equally as large.

      You sleeping over there?

      Adam's stare broke away from the window. As dry bushes rolled across the barren landscape outside, he turned back to the card game – glancing at each of the men for a moment. They were typical looking for men who considered thieving to be honest work. Tossing in a small handful of credits, Adam remained silent.

      You've got balls, Michaels. I'll give you that, one of the men said. Lucas, who was also considered one of the best, flashed his yellow teeth at Adam with a wide smile. He and Adam ran the smuggling game on the furthest side of the Skyla System and everyone knew it. But I'm gonna raise yo' ass.

      Adam thought about all of the paydays and how easily money was squandered in backwater saloons like this one. For all of his deep payouts his Gunship model was barely worthy of flying and his crew hadn't been paid in weeks. Like most who are unworthy of instant riches Adam didn't spend conservatively. But as he sat there, turning his attention back to the window once more, Adam could think of nothing but his father tucking him in at night as a young man. Adam, have ambition.

      Yet here he was, sitting in one of the most run down establishments of the quadrant; tables lathered in skank as the orgy of Benzan string music played in a dark corner of the place, barely visible through tobacco smoke.

      Read 'em and weep, boys. Lucas grinned.

      Right away, the grizzly-bearded man put his arms in and began scraping all of the credits into his direction. Without a word, Adam stood up and left the table of shady characters who claimed to be his friends. Truth be told, they would have given him over to the authorities for a fistful of credits. Hell, maybe even for a free beer. There was no honor among thieves, only men who would steal the coins from your eyes and pick the pockets of a dead man. Adam wasn't far behind them when it came to morals. The only honor he knew was a fast gun hand and the trusty revolver by his side.

      Politics? Adam asked.

      Taking a seat beside one of his few real friends, crewman Dalton James, Adam began looking at the wall mounted monitor. Finding humor in Dalton's gaze, which was a combination of interest and drunken stupor.

      Ah fuck, Dalton admitted. Ain't my doing. It's all that's on.

      No skiff ball?

      Nope, Dalton grinned with defeat. Nothing. Just a bunch of old bastards talking about the possibility of another civil war. You'd think that a bunch of backwater planets who've taken it up the rear time again by politicians would be done with men in suits. Only reason I can figure is they like watching Monica.

      Monica?

      The newscaster chick, Dalton said. I don't have the first clue what she's rambling about but she's wearing a pink halter top.

      Adam stared at his friend for several moments.

      And no I'm not drunk, before you ask, Dalton said with pride. Who could get drunk by drinking this watered down piss.

      The bartender glanced into his direction.

      Yea, I said it loud on purpose. And don't think I wouldn't say it to your face, either, he bitched. "I'm a professional criminal and I'm telling you that calling this mule urine ale is a crime in itself."

      You know, they do have better drinks here. Adam said in a low voice.

      Yea, but I ain't paying seven credits a shot.

      Two shots of rock whiskey, Adam said. Holding up his hand for a moment. He could see the bartender's hesitation. Put a rush on it. My friend doesn't like to wait. And bring me a coffee while you're at it.

      Coffee? Dalton asked.

      Yea, Adam turned to the only window of the bar once more. I'm not in much of a mood to drink tonight.

      You're getting soft in your old age. Dalton said.

      Immediately, he downed a shot of rock whiskey. For the rest of the Skyla System, rock whiskey was a last resort. It was good for cleaning up oil spills, killing unwanted weeds, or soaking flatware in. It wasn't really what the civilized world called drinkable. At Paulie's it was top shelf. Dalton followed the first shot with a second; chasing one bad swig of rock whiskey with the next.

      May want to slow down, otherwise we'll be washing dishes to pay for it, Adam cautioned. Dalton had the tendency to drink like a millionaire while wearing the look of a beggar. Living a rock whiskey lifestyle on a mule piss budget.

      We need to do something, the ship ain't gonna fly itself. We need food, fuel... Dalton began. Quickly, the rock whiskey caught up with him. I dunno, Adam. I used to read comics and the villains always led such interesting lives. Now that I've become one, I sleep in a hammock and eat beans once a day on flea-ridden moons.

      I know, Adam agreed with a nod

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