by Christi Smit
Godwaker was the first to draw blood, blowing the torso off a mutant with snake like eyes and abnormally long arms, almost dragging its mutated lower half forward instead of walking. Its eyes went blank as most of its chest vanished in a spray of thick, mutated blood.
The first death of the bestial horde furiously kindled the anger within the mutant hearts heading for the hospital and its defenders. Howling and screeching erupted from mutated lungs, inciting fear in human psyches. Monsters charged as their bodies flooded with alien stimulants, driving them forward with a horrific craving for flesh.
Heavy weapons on armoured vehicles barked into life as the horde crossed the threshold into the medical compound, ripping limbs off and mutilating mutated bodies.
Volley after volley of fire hit the rushing wave, but still they gained ground, edging ever closer to the defenders hunkered down behind makeshift barriers - barriers that were mostly ruined parts of buildings, old disused medical equipment or broken bags of sand formed into hills of mud from recent weather conditions.
A fast-moving beast broke into a gallop, leading its mutated pack by a few steps, it dodged fire from a Lancer crouched behind what used to look like an old x-ray machine. It weaved its way through fire and a hail of bullets, its claws already snatching at tasty flesh it would soon devour.
One moment it was reaching for the Lancer that had fired at it, the next moment its head was missing. Artificial thunder reminded everyone that Godwaker was still watching over them.
Locke, who was firing controlled bursts from his Kicker at the closest target, rose from his position as the monstrous horde leapt over the first defensive barrier.
In that moment when two factions clash on a battlefield time slows down to a crawl, almost stopping completely as courage is weighed and measured against fear and damnation.
Soldiers winning the internal struggle against pissing themselves with fear roared with valour, shining like bright beacons of heroism, drawing weaker humans to them, shaping dread into exhilaration, turning defeat into victory.
And at the heart of those beacons stood the Wolves, roaring as the first creature reached the first defender. Time stopped as the first hit fell, it announced the start of a battle that would be remembered by every living soul, told and re-told many times in the years following the fall of Santor.
As the two factions clashed, an emergency beacon’s awakening almost went unnoticed. A short distance to the west of the medical compound a beacon that was previously thought silent suddenly came to life.
It pinged only once, but it was enough for the person who had been hopeful of its appearance to see it.
Christian’s eyes focused on the beacon’s position, his suit OS feeding him readouts of scans on the building the beacon was broadcasting from.
He was overcome by feelings of joy, but at the same time flooded with guilt.
Christian knew what he was about to request would be insane, but his loyalty compelled him to ask before he abandoned his orders. It did not matter what the answer would be, he had instantly decided on the next course of action the moment the beacon appeared on his display. Love had left him no choice in the matter.
He just hoped his brother would understand what he was about to do.
Probably not, he thought as he opened his mouth to ask his Captain for permission.
Chapter Seven
Collision Course
“It could be days, months or even years, sometimes even decades, but eventually all possible paths through time will converge on one single point. Experience has taught us that fate is a dangerous enemy, and getting in its way will only end in destruction. That is what we as a race still fight against, our inevitable fate, and our eventual end. Our enemies are the tools of our extinction, the Beast being fate’s newest and sharpest one yet. The Titans are our armour against these weapons of destiny, they stand between us and ruination, but they cannot stop the certainty of our race’s bloody end. Nothing can stop it, abandon faith and hope, and embrace the coming nothingness.”
-*Identity Removed*, Leader of the Church of Oblivion, Final recording found among the dead after the Massacre of Koraan, 2530 - 21 ASD
Jessica had lost track of time in the gloomy light of Nash’s bunker. Supplies had dwindled, battery levels for the lights and other machinery were dropping fast, and morale was almost zero.
Tristan rested her head on her sister’s bony shoulder, breathing in the foul tasting air. Both sisters sat against the supply closet’s wall. Jessica routinely counted the few cans of food still sitting on the shelves. The constant counting and recounting kept Jessica from losing it, adding a sense of calm to her mind as she tried to stay positive.
Nash had been correct, there were just enough supplies for one person to survive for a short period, but with four people the supplies would run out long before anyone would come for them.
That is why everyone had put all of their hopes on Sam fixing the beacon, something he had still not done after so many days. Nobody blamed him for his failure, the chances of fixing something so old and broken with no spare parts, was nigh on impossible.
Jessica could feel the filth on her skin, let alone smell it. The air was thick with the stench of unwashed bodies and oxygen filters struggling against the massive job of cleaning the air from any pollutants.
Tristan shifted as her breathing changed, finally falling asleep on her sister’s shoulder. The poor dwarf was having a hard time dealing with the situation, and her mood had become sullen once things had become dire. Her mental state was worrying Jessica, but there was nothing she could do about her little sister right now, hope would have to produce a miracle soon or they were all going to die slow and painful deaths.
Nash was sleeping as well, resting on the cold floor underneath his table of radio equipment. Radio equipment that had been turned off days ago, switched off after nothing but bad news kept flooding the channels still broadcasting in Santor. It also saved a lot of power once the power in the sector had died; putting less strain on the battery banks Nash had built into his bunker.
Sam was in the same room as Nash, still working on the rusty and broken beacon. Sam had chosen not to sleep too much, spending all of his time fixing what was in front of him. He had made so many makeshift parts out of old cans and utensils to complete circuits and fix transistors that the area around him looked like a junkyard. Sam’s small, handheld welder sparked, creating creepy shadows inside the bunker.
Jessica watched as the shadows danced around the sparks, her eyes red from the tool’s hateful bright light, and due to her lack of sleep. Her mind wandered on past events, unable to focus on any specific event.
She shook her head to clear the cloudiness away when a sudden screech from Sam’s direction caused Jessica to raise her tired head. The sparks had been replaced by a red blinking, followed by an annoying beep.
Sam’s eyes were wide and a smile crept across his lips. He was too tired to jump up from joy, so he just raised his arms in a moment of sheer triumph.
The beeping woke Tristan and Nash and both were in just as much shock as Jessica was.
Against all odds Sam had fixed something with almost nothing, a true testament to the engineer’s exceptional skills.
No-one said anything for a few moments, just soaking in what the beacon’s awakening meant for everyone. Feelings of new hope grew in each of their minds as they watched the blinking light on the beacon’s side.
Nash was the only one to speak. “Now...we wait,” he said, taking deep breathes as his old body struggled to gather energy from the thick air.
Everyone agreed, and everyone felt the hope in each other, but all of them knew deep down that they were not rescued just yet.
Soon they all hoped, soon.
“Incoming message from the Stygian Council, sir,” Remy reported, she was strapped into her chair flanking the command chair Gray was seated in.
Gray took a deep breath, he had been wrestling with the Hyperion’s controls f
or longer than he cared to remember, and his muscles were almost limp from the exertion. But his efforts had not been in vain, and over the course of hours he had opened up a good gap between his ship and the chasing traitors. Most of the faster vessels capable of catching him were either crippled by the Hyperion’s expert gunners or too scared to come close, in fear of being destroyed or used as living mines against their own allies.
Remy shifted in her seat, eyeing Gray as she repeated herself, hoping the captain would hear her this time. “Sir, the Stygian Council is hailing us.” Remy swallowed her worry down, trying not to sound concerned about Gray as she spoke.
“I heard you the first time Remy,” Gray replied. “Give me a minute, please.”
Remy nodded and waited for her captain’s next order.
Gray took a moment, straitening his pristine jacket and wiping sweat from his brow as he composed himself for what he knew was going to be an awkward conversation. “I am ready,” he said, nodding in Remy’s general direction.
The display in front of Gray filled with static and then began to focus. Shapes became clearer and edges became smooth. Within moments two ship captains were staring at each other, silently sizing one another up as all void captains did when meeting one of their opposite numbers.
Gray said nothing, the moment he had been planning, and hoping for, was almost here. Whoever spoke first would be the loser, Gray knew this, and he doubted Vincent’s arrogance would allow him to fathom the idea of psychological edges others might have over him. Gray could see Vincent’s superiority just by the way he sat and watched with unblinking eyes. The man was not stupid, but his arrogance allowed a hint of ignorance to creep into his personality, and this was what Gray was going to use against the bastard.
“I thought you were dead,” Lord Vincent said, his voice filled with his royal arrogance.
Gray smiled, not at the comment, but rather because he knew he had the son of a bitch right where he wanted him. Gray remained silent, shifting in his chair as if to show Vincent that he is annoyed and not impressed by his words, or even his appearance.
Lord Vincent’s mouth curled into a snarl, slamming his fist into the extravagant throne he sat in. “Answer me you scum!” he said, his voice rising in pitch as his anger grew.
Still Gray said nothing and just kept smiling, scratching at the stubble of grey hair on his chin.
“I am still a master of this race and your superior in command! You will answer me Captain!” Vincent’s anger was enough to almost manifest into the physical realm.
“My superior?” Gray finally said. “Looking at you now Victor,” the name spoken with venom, “I see nothing but a pathetic excuse for a human. You are a master of nothing but slaves and hollow loyalty. I pity your crew and everyone that has ever served you. Your actions here, and whatever you are planning, invalidated everything you have ever done for our race. Most of all, Victor, I pity you as much as I pity an insect before I step on it. Your words, and your elaborate power, it means nothing to any of us. You have lost the right to order me and my crew around.”
Lord Vincent remained quiet for a minute. He struggled to contain himself. “You will die, and I will watch you burn up with your ship. I will make an exception, killing your home world next. One by one I will wipe anyone who has ever heard of you and those precious Titans from this universe. And then I will piss on the ashes of your family name. You will be forever damned and so it will be written in history. You and everyone you call an ally will be dust and bone, forgotten forever.” Lord Victor let the words hang in the air, his intention as always trying to strike fear into his subordinates, that is the only way he knew how to control situations.
But he was not dealing with his slaves. No, he was dealing with free-thinking soldiers, something that was far more dangerous to his master plan than anything else.
Gray chuckled under his breath. “And I thought you were going to ask me to surrender or something.”
“You and your family are all dead. I will personally slit the throat of any child or grandchild you have fathered!” Lord Vincent was furious, his temper flaring out of control as Captain Gray’s insubordination pierced his calm exterior.
“You are too late, they are already dead. You will have to find something else to threaten me with.” Gray replied.
Lord Vincent relaxed slightly as he shifted in his chair, lowering his clenched hands to the arm rests of his throne. “Everything,” he mumbled mostly to himself, but he raised his voice as he continued, “I will kill everything and everyone in my path. The blood of millions of humans will be on your hands. You will learn what it means to be truly alone, Willis.”
The use of his first name angered Gray slightly, but he did not show it. “Then we will have to stop you,” Gray said, keying in a code in his command chair out of sight of Victor’s cold eyes.
“Don’t make me laugh you old fool. You have nothing but a ship and a few men. Your Titans are on New Horizon, and they will die there, I will make sure of it. The other Titans that still lived are all dead, I have seen to it. The Grim Wolves are the last of their kind,” Lord Vincent laughed as he spoke, his anger turning once again to arrogance.
“We shall see,” Gray said with disgust in his voice.
“Indeed we will.”
“You have lost touch with what our mission was Vincent; you have been blinded by power and greed.”
“Do not lecture me about our mission, I am upholding our ideals. I just found a faster way to reach them. You cannot teach me any more you fool.”
“Wrong,” Gray said, nodding at Remy to his side. “An old bastard can still teach a child like you a few things. Now!” Gray yelled at Remy.
Lord Vincent’s eyes widened as he saw the light grow around the Hyperion’s hull. The conversation had given Gray enough time to charge his BEAM drive for a short jump. Gray had been stalling. He could do nothing as Gray got the final words in before the Hyperion jumped.
“Tell me something Victor. How long does it take for your behemoth to charge?” Gray could be heard laughing as he spoke again. “First to the finish then?” he said as the display in front of Victor filled with static.
The Hyperion vanished from sight, its BEAM drive carrying it away from the traitor’s fleet. Gray knew that he had only bought them a few hours, and Victor’s escort ships would be faster at reaching New Horizon than their command ship. But nevertheless, he had given them some time to get back and rescue the Wolves.
Hopefully they were still drawing breath.
Nathan held up a hand to silence his brother before he said something that he would regret. “I see it. Is it her?” he asked Christian, his brother was shifting from one armoured boot to the other, his brother’s body language showing Nathan that his brother was at a crossroads.
“I think so,” Christian replied.
“That is not good enough. You have to do better than that.” Nathan’s tone was serious, heavy with annoyance from what was becoming a problematic situation.
Christian turned to face Nathan, slipping his shield behind his back. “I can feel it. It is her,” he said, the certainty in his voice was clear.
Nathan nodded, that was enough for him, there might have been issues between him and his little brother, but he trusted Christian’s judgement. “I will handle it. Go outside and find Lemink, tell him to send some of his men to guard the civilians.”
“Thank you, brother,” Christian said, the words difficult to form because of the rocky past they shared.
“Don’t thank me yet. The rest won’t be happy to hear we are leaving.”
“We?” Christian asked, puzzled.
“Yes...we, now go.”
Christian nodded and left the morgue without pushing the subject. Already he felt a little better knowing his brother trusted him enough to have his back in a situation like this.
Nathan took a deep breath and opened a channel to Gabriel, private so the rest of the squad did not hear the conversation.
&nbs
p; “Say again,” Locke said, fending off a monster with bone blades for limbs lunging towards him. “Are you joking?”
“No Gabriel, Lemink will protect the civilians. We need to investigate the new beacon. It might be a high value civilian, someone we might need,” Nathan replied.
“How could you possibly know that?” Locke asked. His voice strained as he cut a bladed arm off that was trying to pierce his chest armour.
“Let’s just say, there was a feeling.”
“Crap,” Locke replied, “you will have to explain that “feeling” to me later...”
There was silence for a moment, Nathan waiting for Locke to continue. He could hear the captain breathing hard as heavy weapon gunfire erupted nearby.
“Go. You have a few hours. If you aren’t at our primary extraction point by the time we need to leave, we leave without you.”
“I understand Gabriel, we will be there.”
Christian returned just as Nathan finished speaking to Locke. Nathan switched of the squad radio and with his thumb pointed it behind him, meaning only one thing - we are leaving, ready up.
Christian understood instantly. Lemink’s men were already filing into the morgue, seeing to the civilians and taking up positions to cover the morgue’s only entry point.
“We can’t go out the front, take the stairs, we can jump to the next building from the first floor,” Nathan told his brother.
Without a word Christian ascended the stairs with his brother right behind him. Within a few seconds they were looking out of the first floor windows at the front of the medical facility. An ocean of bodies, mutated and human, feverishly battled for survival below them. The Titans were like lights in the darkness of the monstrous tide, around them the Lancers gathered and mounds of dead beasts piled up as they died. Tracers from the weapons mounted on the vehicles lit up the shadows as they blew mutated bodies apart.
Nathan took a moment, stepping up to the window before he spoke. “I hope you are right. We will all die if you are wrong about this.”