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    Gunship: Graveyard: Gunship, #21
    Gunship: Graveyard: Gunship, #21
    Gunship: Graveyard: Gunship, #21
    Ebook116 pages1 hour

    Gunship: Graveyard: Gunship, #21

    By John M. Davis

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    About this ebook

    One brother is secretly dealing with addiction problems…the other doesn't have the right temperament to lead. They now find themselves on opposite sides of a civil war that is ripping the galaxy apart at its seams. Once a year, both men agree to meet under a flag of truce at their mother's grave.

    This year will be different.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBook Commander
    Release dateMay 17, 2019
    ISBN9781386475507
    Gunship: Graveyard: Gunship, #21

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      Book preview

      Gunship - John M. Davis

      Chapter 1

      ––––––––

      She'd been dead nearly four years.

      It's still hard for me to believe she's gone. Foster said.

      He was mid-sized, perhaps six feet even. His hair was slicked back to shoulder length, the way it always was, and a baby grin peeked out from beneath the shade of stubble on his face. Foster had always been the chosen of the two.

      It's painful, but I try to deal with it as best I can. Leon replied.

      Leon was taller by nearly a half-foot. As the older of the two, he had very little hair to speak of. No baby grin for him, just the experienced look of a consummate leader.

      You always were the more level headed of the two of us, brother. Foster said.

      "It's a matter of dealing with what is, Leon replied. Shaking his head a bit. Our mother is gone – nothing can change that now."

      And what would she think of her sons?

      Suddenly, the small squads of soldiers backing each of them gripped their weapons tightly. Battle rifles, pain blades, clinched fists – everything you would expect from two warring factions during interstellar war.

      There were at least ten soldiers backing each of the brothers; both lieutenants in their respective armies and both capable of being heroes or villains – depending on a person's vantage point.

      Every year we gather at our mother's grave and put our differences aside, Leon said, turning to his younger brother; staring him down with cold blue eyes. And every year I tell you the same thing – one of us has taken the honorable side in this war and you're welcome to join me at any time. I will ensure that the courts show you leniency.

      The courts? Foster asked with a laugh. "Colonial courts, I presume."

      We were both raised right here on Glimmeria. You and I are both human. I would think that human courts here on earth would-

      Humans have been killing one another for thousands of years. War, famine, slavery, Foster began, laughing off the notion. Yes, I've killed – as have you.

      "When I kill it's justified by the rules of war. You know my way of faith and how-" Leon defended.

      Don't throw your religion on me. When it comes to killing, I feel justified in my own right, Foster replied quickly. Our factions now fight for different things. You and the humans you fight alongside have chosen robots in your fight for control, have you not?

      "And you, brother?" Leon demanded to know.

      "We fight for survival."

      And the krall? The heathen wolven race that entered into our star system without warning and began systematically slaughtering innocent people?

      He turned to look at his younger brothers protectors. Among them krall, a race of beings that were just a shade under human size and shape, but were covered in grimy black fur and snarled more often than not. Their teeth were shard of bone – nothing more.

      They have the right to be here – same as us.

      What gives them that right? Leon asked.

      "What gives us that right, Foster argued. Taking a moment to rake his slick hair back into position with a free hand. Before the humans were the hunters, and before them the husk. This has been proven. Humanity claimed the skyla system as its home because they were the stronger race. Now the krall do the same."

      "And yet you are not krall." Leon said.

      "I've told you, brother, the krall have a place for any human who helps them achieve ultimate victory."

      And you believe this?

      Look, Foster said, turning to the two krall who'd accompanied him. I'm human, yet I'm a lieutenant in charge of two wolves. I could have them kill you, my own brother, by simply uttering the words."

      Leon looked them both down with rugged eyes.

      Any my snipers would take them out long before they struck me down.

      Perhaps. Foster said.

      Then shall we test your theory? Leon asked.

      Relax brother, I plan to kill you during a time of battle. Not under a flag of truce And certainly not in front of my mother.

      Yes...you tell me the same thing each year. Yet here I stand.

      Turning to look at his mother's grave site for several quiet moments, Foster again hand combed his hair into place. Pulling a cigarette to his lips, he flicked a silver windproof lighter and had his way with the tobacco stick.

      I've had enough of this, he finally replied. "Us meeting here at this graveyard each year out of respect for our mother. How can you possibly know what I've been through? How could you possibly know what I've had to do in order to survive?"

      Honestly, I don't care, Leon admitted. We're men and men have their problems. What I care about is you crossing the line and ending this feud between us once and for all. I believe it would put our mother's soul to ease.

      "And I could give two shits about what you believe, Foster said, turning to the small army at his back. This is my family now."

      You must be proud. Leon said.

      Oh I am, Foster replied with the tone of revenge. "Right now, you stand here and sermon me about what I need to do. But brother, what you need to do is get your affairs in order. Soon enough, whenever you gather up the nerve to shovel your guts off of the ground and leave this planet – I'm going to end you. At which time I'll bury you right here beside our mother."

      Is that a fact? Leon asked.

      A goddam fact indeed. Foster warned.

      Well perhaps we should-

      Leon, a familiar voice shouted. Erica Bain, one of Leon's finest soldiers and quite possibly his best  friend. He's here under a flag of truce.

      Leon sucked in the cold air that surrounded Glimmeria during its only cold spell of the year. Regretting the fact that his date with destiny would have to wait.

      "You see, brother, you're restricted by countless rules and red tape. Imagine how many soldiers have died because of it. The Colonial Army is dying. So I invite you to join us. There will be no courts at all – just a clean slate and two brothers reuniting."

      He wanted more than anything to tell his younger brother about the exodus fleet – but couldn't. Leon had his orders.

      Join the krall? Leon asked with laughter. I'd die first.

      Then you will.

      Leon tossed his cigarette down to the frigid sands of late winter and stamped it out with his foot, beneath a worn black boot.

      Let's go.

      Leon watched his younger brother leave, just as he did each year. Perhaps one day he'd see the err of his ways, but not this day. Leon wanted to do everything but kill his brother. In fact, he wanted to save him. But how can you save someone who refuses to see the truth?

      Another day. Erica said with a soft voice.

      I can only hope. We're departing soon.

      ** **

      He give you the same speech as last year? Gurly asked.

      Gurly was short, ill-tempered and would knock a son of a bitch's teeth out for spilling whiskey in his presence. He was a killer, even when killing wasn't necessarily called for, and he didn't deny that fact. He wore black cargo pants and a gray shirt that was coated with stains. Blood, pit stains, grease – the usual. No one had ever accused him of being literate, either. But Gurly was loyal. He'd earned the trust of his best friend, and was more of a brother than his own brother had ever been.

      Pretty much. Foster replied.

      They entered through a small door on the side of a skiff that was registered to the krall. It took balls to fly down to Glimmeria, what was left of it anyway,

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