Gamma Nine (Book One)

by Christi Smit

  The pain he was feeling grew in intensity as more and more of his plating and under layer was removed from his tired body. Christian closed his eyes and bit down hard, trying not to make a sound as two mechanical arms removed his back plating.

  As soon as it was freed from his body a surge of exhaustion assaulted his body. His muscles tensed as his eyes opened from the sudden fatigue washing over his senses. Sleep deprivation became apparent the moment his muscles relaxed, and it was then that he realized he had been awake for far too long, never resting or sleeping since he received his suit on New Horizon. It had been many days and he felt it in his limbs as the last of his suit was removed.

  Nano machines and the suit’s systems kept operators awake for extended periods of time, feeding them whatever they needed to keep going for longer than humanly possible. This lack of sleep was one of the biggest culprits in the body’s fight against damaging itself inside the suit.

  The recovery tanks were more like sleep tanks than anything, accepting the spent Titans into their watery cores whenever a Titan needed to rest. The recovery tanks simulated extended sleep patterns by inducing controlled comas, giving Titans days of sleep in mere hours of real time.

  Christian knew how the tanks worked from what he was supplied with during his training, only reading about the mechanisms and science used to create the recovery tanks. This was to be his first time inside one.

  The pain subsided for a few moments and he opened his eyes to look at Locke beside him. Locke’s eyes were open but he was humming to himself, as if he had simply disconnected his mind from the present and knew nothing of what was happening.

  Christian spoke through the pain, aiming the words at his captain, hoping the hero would hear him. “How long?” he asked. It was all he could manage through the pain.

  Locke’s eyes focused and he craned his neck towards the rookie Titan. “For as long as it takes. Some of us need more time, like your brother.”

  Christian nodded and braced himself as he was lowered to the floor by the mechanism that was holding him in the air during suit removal. The moment his feet touched the cold decking his body almost crumpled from the fatigue. He stopped himself from falling face first into the hard deck with his weary hands. Christian felt as if he was completely detached from his body, unable to lift himself up from his hunched-over crouch.

  Darkness built up at the edges of his eyes and slowly it crept across his vision, blurring everything he saw.

  He felt hands gripping onto his shoulders and neck as his body was pulled backwards, his vision darkening further. His neck was going numb, with the last of his body’s energy he locked eyes with his captain, who was already being placed inside his recovery tank.

  Captain Locke said something, but Christian could not make out what he was trying to say. He was about to ask his commanding officer what he was saying when the darkness consumed all of his vision and he lost consciousness.

  The bright chamber he was in a moment before was replaced by a sky of bubbling dust, clouds of vile purple swirled through the ochre sky, carrying curtains of grey sand on sickening winds over empty plains.

  Christian sat upright, noticing he felt no more pain. His lips were dry and he was thirstier than he had ever been. He was clothed in old military fatigues, complete with his standard issue belt and combat pack. Christians instinctively moved his hand to the holster strapped to his upper leg, but it was empty, his pistol missing from it.

  He stood up and surveyed the plains stretching out in front of him, using his hands to dust the strangely textured sand from his non-distinct uniform.

  Christian heard the thing move behind him before turning to see it.

  It spoke before Christian could spin around and face it. “Welcome,” it said. “I wondered when you would visit me again.”

  Christian turned slowly, looking at the black figure he had seen in his dreams during the last days of his training. He watched it as its smokiness formed the lines of a human shape, but as soon as Christian tried to focus on any specific part the smoke would shift and the shapes would disappear. It was like looking at a shadow out of the corner of his eye, never able to see its true form.

  The thing turned and motioned with a smoky limb for Christian to follow.

  There was no choice, and the rookie Wolf felt compelled to follow the thing stalking through his mind.

  Questions would be answered soon, whether Christian liked it or not.

  Chapter Five

  Gamma Nine

  “It was once a shining jewel in the star kingdom of humankind. Millions of people inhabiting what our ancestors called paradise. Oceans of sparkling water broke against continents of deep emerald. It was once a proud and thriving world, a bastion to all neighbouring sectors. Millions of souls journeyed to Angelicas to seek riches and spiritual guidance from its many temples, economical and religious alike. Perhaps it was more than just a coincidence that it was the epicentre of our race’s inevitable extinction. Many believe it was the universe’s way of showing everything that inhabited the stars that something so beautiful cannot last forever.”

  -Excerpt from Mankind’s Demise: A journey from life to death, 2560 - 51 ASD

  Christian followed in the smoky stranger’s footsteps, climbing a steep dune of grey sand. Every step seemed to drain energy from his already fatigued body. He had asked the stranger many questions during the journey, but the stranger had remained silent with every step they took.

  The destination was unknown to Christian, but he hoped that they were drawing near to wherever the thing was leading him to. He was growing more than just tired, his anger was bubbling up underneath the surface of his calm exterior.

  The smoky stranger reached the crest of the dune and stopped, its murky body shifting as the winds howled through the sand. It said nothing, turning and waiting for Christian to speak or reach the top, whichever came first.

  “What is this place?” Christian asked the figure before joining it. A question he had asked a few times before, this time he hoped he would get an answer.

  “You do not recognize it?” the figure replied, its voice low and soft.

  Christian remained where he was, eager to take advantage of the stranger’s break in silence. He looked at the figure for a moment as his mind searched for an answer to the stranger’s question. He found nothing within the tired recesses of his mind. Christian shook his head and sighed, more secrets, he thought.

  “It is the place everyone fears, where death waits for all. It is where the end of all things begun,” the smoky stranger said. “Look, you must see it for yourself.” It pointed to the plains on the other side of the dune.

  Christian chuckled from frustration at the cryptic words as he trudged through the sand and wind to join his dream stalker. His laugh died on his lips as he saw what the figure was pointing at.

  Beneath them, scores of dead littered the grey sand. Men, women and children were all distorted parodies of their last moments before death. Limbs bent at irregular angles, faces frozen in screams no-one ever heard, eyes and tongues removed by whatever snatched them from the living world. Each body was different, unique in shape and position, silent and unmoving as the storm battered their dead flesh. There were no carrion birds circling the bodies, no scavengers picking at the buffet of meat. There was only the forgotten and the dead.

  Christian could see the faces of the bodies closest to where he stood. The decaying smell hit his unsuspecting nose moments later; it caused what fluids he had in his guts to churn violently.

  “It is a sight to remember,” the smoky stranger said.

  “How many are there?” Christian asked, trying to hold back the sickness he felt.

  “They stretch as far as the horizon and more beyond that. Millions upon millions of them, frozen forever in time, stuck in your mind, stuck in mine, stuck in everyone’s.”

  “Why did you show me this?”

  “You showed yourself this, I am only the instrument you used to distan
ce yourself from the pain. You have used me many times before, in different forms, but always the same essence.”

  Christian fell to his knees, choking on the spit and bile rising in his throat.

  The stranger remained unmoving as it said more. “Your mind, me, did this to motivate you. So you would do what needs to be done. So you can remember why it is you fight, why everyone still fights.”

  “What needs to be done?” Christian asked, succeeding at holding back his stomach contents.

  The figure moved what Christian guessed was its head to look at him. “Why do you ask questions that you already know the answer to?”

  Christian did not know what the figure meant. He was searching his thoughts as best as he could with the smell of the dead filling his senses. Something that was almost impossible with such a horrific distraction nearby.

  “You will know when the time comes.”

  “You can see into the future?”

  It laughed at Christian, shaking its smoky head in disbelief. “No, you fool. I can see the future as much as you can. But you will be faced with many choices soon enough. Your mind created me to blot out the fear stemming from the possible outcomes of those choices.”

  “I must be going crazy if I am creating identities in my head. My mind must have been...” Christian’s last words bled into the figure’s own words.

  “...damaged during the fight. It was not, and you are far from insane. All of this is just a manifestation of fear, fear of the future, fear of the past, and mostly the fear of defeat.”

  “What defeat?” Christian asked, rising from his knees.

  The stranger’s body stopped moving in the wind, its head snapped up as if it was listening to something in the distance. “Our time is up once again,” it said. It body solidified for a few seconds and reflected Christians own face back at him.

  Sudden bright lights tore through the clouds above Christian’s position, beams of light snaking through the sand, like search lights looking for an escaped prisoner they scrutinized the dunes around him.

  One light hit the stranger and it disintegrated, another focused on Christian, its brightness building in intensity as Christian tried to see the source of the lights above him.

  A shock hit his entire body as the light blinded him, drowning out all sights and sounds of the desert.

  His eyes snapped open, seeing nothing but metal ceiling. Two robed figures were speaking and hovering over him. Christian could not understand what they were saying as they used a hand light to shine the beam of light into his open eyes.

  Had his hearing been fully restored he would have heard the first words he had spoken after waking up.

  Sacrifice. That is what he had said as his limp body was dragged out of the recovery tank and onto the cold table for inspection.

  It was lost to him now, unheard and forgotten. It was hidden within his mind. There it would remain until it needed to be remembered.

  Nathan was still in recovery, his body taking longer than the other Wolves to heal. Christian had visited his brother a few times every day since he had woken up, sitting in front of his recovery tank. He wore standard military fatigues, as did every other Wolf.

  All Titans were forced to wear regular clothing after a stint in the recovery tanks. The interface plugs were raw and painful after extended time within the Titan suits, the forced separation allowed the skin around the plugs and the nerve endings connected to each plug to heal faster.

  Christian sat on the cold decking in front of his brother’s silent and suspended body. He watched Nathan’s eyes move behind closed lids through the murky water-like substance inside the tank.

  Nathan was never a sentimental soul. He was always focused on whatever was in front of him, able to do anything he put his mind to. Christian always wondered what his brother dreamed about, and watching him now he was even more curious to know what those eyes were seeing.

  The family called him a genius, but they were all wrong. He was a hero, to every extent of the word, strong and powerful in mind and body. It was not difficult to look up to Nathan and his commanding personality. Perhaps that was why Christian was always afraid of him, afraid of disappointing him, afraid of failing, afraid of his brother’s rejection.

  It was Nathan who inspired Christian to volunteer for the Titan training, against the rest of the family’s wishes.

  Christian would prove that he was worth something, and he would do so at any cost. He craved Nathan’s acceptance.

  During his visits he was unable to speak at first, sitting in silence as his mind grasped at thoughts from his past. One thought stuck in his mind and he spoke before he could stop himself. Luckily his brother was unconscious, and would not have to hear the reminiscing about their past. Nathan would be angry at his brother for bringing up forgotten times; his anger was probably his only true character flaw.

  “Do you remember the day you left?” Christian asked his comatose brother.

  There was obviously going to be no reply, so Christian just chuckled at the thought of talking to himself.

  He looked up at Nathan and continued. “I remember the day. I can’t forget it even if I tried. Our father, who we will not speak of, was already long gone by then, leaving us to fend for ourselves. You took care of me, through your anger and hate, helping me whenever you could. I regret not listening to your guidance back then. My stubbornness to enjoy life instead of working hard to make something of myself is one of my many shortcomings.” Christian sighed as he battled the tears trying to fill his eyes. “When you left, without a reason, I struggled to understand why, or how easy it was for you to just leave me behind.”

  Christian stood up, taking a step closer to the tank before speaking again. He lowered his voice, to try and sound more sincere, but mostly it was because of the emotion connected to the memory. “I understand now. It was not easy at all was it?”

  Again there was no answer, only his brother’s silence.

  “You had to leave. You did not abandon me. I never held it against you, I never hated you. I only wish I could have gone with you or shown you that I am not the same childish person I was back then.” Christian made a fist with his right hand and placed it against Nathan’s recovery tank, the cold glass pressing against Christians knuckles. “Forgive me for my arrogance, my ignorance, my laziness, and most of all, not picking your side when our family fell apart. I will make amends for it, somehow.”

  The door behind Christian slid open the moment he finished speaking. Christian did not remove his hand from the glass, only turning his head at the person who entered through the open door.

  Pyoter stepped through and nodded at Christian. Pyoter’s giant frame almost squeezing through the portal meant for regular sized humans. “Captain wants to see us in the armoury. Come Little Bear, leave Big Bear to sleep.” He gestured with his hands for Christian to follow him. Pyoter did not wait for a reply, turning to leave as soon as he had entered.

  Christian removed his closed fist from the recovery tank’s glass, whispering words between brothers, words that meant something to him and hopefully his brother would see the truth in those words in time.

  It was the same phrase painted on his now scratched and damaged armour - Forever Loyal.

  Christian let the whispered words hang in the air before leaving his brother to rest, closing the door behind him as he headed for the armoury.

  The instruments measuring Nathan’s brain activity within the tank spiked slightly after Christian had left. It was as if the words his brother had spoken echoed through Nathan’s dreams.

  As if, somehow, Nathan had heard everything.

  “What did that thing say?” Rivers asked Locke. Rivers was seated at his usual work table while on-board the Hyperion. He was fiddling with a heavily modified rifle, one of his many custom creations.

  Christian entered moments after Pyoter returned to fetch the rookie from the med-engineering. Xander greeted the rookie with a respectful nod, while Rivers only acknowled
ged his presence with a raised hand in greeting.

  Pyoter joined Xander on the bench bolted to the far-side wall of the small armoury.

  Locke said nothing at first. He stood in the middle of the armoury, facing the door Christian had entered through. The Titan Captain had his arms folded and his face showed no emotion.

  Christian froze as soon as their eyes met, standing to attention as soldiers should in the presence of their superiors.

  “It has said nothing we don’t know about already. It chooses to remain quiet for now,” Locke finally replied to Rivers’ question. He was letting the rookie sweat on purpose.

  Christian remained absolutely still, maintaining his focus on the wall behind the captain. He had learned as a cadet not to look officers in the eye when their moods were so unpredictable.

  “Have you tried other means of getting information out of it?” Rivers’ asked with a hint of disdain dripping from his words.

  “It’s not possible to torture a machine, if that is what you were getting at.”

  “What a pity that is.”

  “Do you need a backrub old man?” Xander asked sarcastically from the bench behind him.

  “Are you offering?” Rivers retorted.

  The pair of Titans on the bench chuckled at their sergeant’s comeback. At least he had not lost his sense of humour during the fight on the Fateful Moment.

  “It has been making strange requests. Its most recent is one I find very troubling.” Locke’s focus shifted back to Christian still standing at attention at the entrance to the armoury.

  This made Rivers stop fiddling with the rifle on his table. He turned to look at Locke, waiting for the captain to continue.

  “It asked for the rookie. To speak to it alone,” Locke said.

  Christian swallowed slowly, his muscles tensing as he grew anxious.

  “What? Why?” Rivers said. The surprise was evident in his voice.

  “I will not pretend to understand its reasoning, nor do I want to know what it thinks about. It asks, and for now, we must give it what it wants. We need the information it is keeping from us.”