Gamma Nine (Book One)

by Christi Smit

  The lead Bowbreaker bore down on the Brother’s Bond with all of its raw power, aiming to hit it head on, intent on tearing through the smaller vessel from bow to stern. Captain Kohl accepted the invitation and manoeuvred his vessel to face the lead traitor vessel head on. In the background while he commanded his ship, engineers had readied The Device for its swan song.

  No-one would ever know what Captain Kohl’s final words were in those last moments, but everyone would remember the destruction his daring move had caused.

  Moments before the Bowbreakers dissected its prey a bright light erupted from the Brother’s Bond bowels. One moment four vessels were bearing down on one another, the next moment the bright flash of light had heralded the end of all four ships. The Device had generate a field large enough to suck in the Brother’s Bond and two of the Bowbreakers, leaving the fourth vessel drifting towards the controlled black hole. No amount of power could save the drifting vessel, and as the anti-matter field fed on the energy around it, others watched in awe as the other three ships were torn apart on a molecular level. Little by little the ships disappeared from reality and our known existence, vanishing into nothingness as The Device gorged itself on everything nearby. It was so powerful that it even sucked in a few light-weight bombers and fighters trailing in the wake of the Bowbreakers.

  The artificial black hole suddenly stopped gathering energy. Everything not pulled apart by its sheer power drifted helplessly, waiting for the monster to release all of its gathered energy in the silence of the void. Lightning arced from its heart, and seconds later a blue light engulfed what was left of the ships around it. The explosion tore apart everything it its path, creeping slowly towards other vessels nearby as it reached for more targets. Vessels on both sides were rocked and thrown off course as the explosion hit both lines. Luckily the defenders had known what Kohl had planned and had prepared for The Device’s detonation. A few ships suffered nothing but cosmetic damage, while others had to reboot and fix systems shorted out by the anti-matter field explosion.

  The traitors on the other hand were not so lucky. Not only did the Bowbreakers perish, but the explosion had crippled two larger vessels heading for the blockade as well. Hundreds of bombers and fighters were lost in the aftermath, and with one single blow Captain Kohl and his crew had shifted the balance enough to give every defender hope in their own survival.

  Now the real fight would begin, and once the vessels were in range of each other, the death toll would rise and only the most hardened of captains would live to see another day.

  A Lancer by the name of Siddle drew first blood against the enemy. The man had the foresight to bring an anti-vehicle launcher with him when he had followed Xander to the roof of the complex surrounding the extraction point. Xander had led them to the outer corner of the square buildings overlooking the advancing troops from the south. Corporal Siddle was an older man, stuck in his rank for many years due to his extreme insubordination and reckless actions during operations. His wrinkled face was hidden behind his Lancer helmet, so Xander could not see the man’s face when the Lancer had made the rash decision to fire the first shot.

  Whatever reason motivated Siddle in acting without orders was later confirmed to be the correct one, even though Siddle did not live to see the rest of the battle unfold.

  Siddle had followed the heroic Titan, keeping low and moving fast as the armoured man had ordered. But the Lancer’s rebellious soul had begun to itch underneath is old skin, and soon he was sneaking looks down at the enemy over the edge of the building. Little by little he formed a picture in his mind of what the situation looked like, assessing it and making the selfish choice to attack without the Titan’s go ahead.

  Siddle had stopped mid stride, unclipping the launcher from his back and shouldering the heavy weapon before anyone had even noticed that the older Lancer had stopped moving. Xander was too late to order the Lancer to stop what he was doing and get down. He was about to scream at the man but the launcher’s throaty boom killed the words on his lips before he could utter them in warning.

  The tank-killer round flew with a mind of its own towards the leading enemy vehicle, hitting it in its flank between giant, armoured wheel arches and protected crew compartment. Armour tried to soak up the round’s extreme force, but it was futile. An explosion consumed the troops walking alongside the vehicle and the crew inside the armoured behemoth.

  One shot from the Lancer had crippled one deadly enemy and killed at least a squad of enemy troops.

  But it came at a price, and the rest of Xander’s group had no time to congratulate Siddle on his reckless shot. Siddle saw his end turn and lift its man-killing barrel in his direction. The old Lancer did not move as the second vehicle sighted and fired at its target.

  “Oh shit...” was all Siddle uttered before the section of building he was standing on vanished in an explosive cloud of hot flame and debris, vaporizing his body instantly.

  The Lancer had given away their position on the roof, and Xander already knew that they had lost the element of surprise. Luckily the surviving vehicle had not seen the precise position of everyone in Xander’s group, but it had the general idea of what they were planning to do.

  More man-killing rounds hit the building’s roof, blanketing it with fire, expecting to kill the unknown number on-top of the south facing building.

  Another Lancer died as the roof underneath him disappeared, taking the poor man down with it, crushing his body in a shower of stone and concrete. Xander blindly tossed a few of his more deadly devices over the edge of the building hoping to kill as many as he could, but it did not have the desired effect. Enough of the traitors had already entered the complex, and were ready to rush the defenders in the courtyard.

  “They are inside! Be ready Captain!” Xander yelled over the squad radio, his voice strained as he dodged the incoming fire from the man-killer firing on his group.

  Xander side-stepped a piece of roof crumbling in front of him and dived for an opening the explosions had created. The hole led to the top levels of the building, top levels that were already being filled by enemy troops taking position overlooking the courtyard.

  The Lancers followed the Titan through the gap in the roof, diving inside one by one, all of them preparing for close quarters fighting with the enemy.

  None of them were masters of up close and personal combat, but at least there would be a Titan leading the way. Xander was a one on one kind of fighter, but there would definitely be more than one opponent in his way, and the Lancers behind depended on him carving his way through the traitors and leading them to safety.

  The odds were not great, but Xander pushed forward without hesitation, running at almost full sprint when the first black-armoured traitor stepped out of a doorway leading to a staircase. Xander did not break his stride, unholstering his pistol mid sprint and putting a single bullet through the man’s forehead.

  During Locke’s military career he had seen many horrible and beautiful things. He had seen worlds die and burn at the hands of rebels or the nightmarish Beast. He had witnessed the greatness of humankind when staring death in the face, and unfortunately, he had also been present when the strength of humankind had faltered, seeing what truly lies inside the human soul. He remembered them all vividly, but one memory in particular always stood out above the rest. Whenever he closed his eyes and searched his mind for it, it would always be there on the surface, always within easy reach of his grasping mind. That memory stuck in his head as he prepared to fight.

  Many years ago, before Locke had volunteered to be one of the very first Titans, he was a sergeant in command of a squad of rookies, sent on a routine mission to keep the population of an ice world called Almera from rebelling against the rest of the P-SEP controlled sector. His squad had been patrolling the ice fields near Almera’s capital city when their local guide had pointed out something that was both haunting and beautiful at the same time. A pack of Fenwolves, named after the monstrous wolves that had s
talked ancient Earth centuries ago, moved silently over the ice fields against the approaching ice storm. The pack was out hunting, sniffing the air for nearby prey, their ice white fur blowing in the cold wind. One wolf, larger than the rest, raised its head and had looked directly at Locke, its blue unnatural eyes piercing his very soul as man and wild beast stared at each other. Locke knew that it was the Alpha Wolf the moment their eyes had met. The local guide that was attached to Locke’s squad had explained to the then sergeant how the Fenwolves had to hunt, without rest or any respite, forced to stalk the ice and snow until they died from hunger or succumbed to old age. The guide had called the Fenwolves’ future a grim one, and that most of them would be dead or dying by the end of the decade if things on Almera did not change for the better. Food in the wilderness of Almera was almost completely wiped out by the end of the rebellion.

  Soon after their mission was complete on Almera Locke and his squad had been ordered to a different sector, and he never heard if the Fenwolves had surrendered to their grim fate. It always bothered him whenever he thought on that moment of pure beauty, the sadness in the eyes of the alpha wolf’s stare.

  When asked what he wanted to name his Titan squad Locke did not hesitate, he named them in honour of the great wolves of Almera, and their struggle for survival on an unforgiving world. He named them the Grim Wolves, and led them on hunts of their own, but instead of fighting to stay alive, Locke and his Grim Wolves fought for something far greater, they fought for humankind’s survival.

  Locke could almost feel the cold wind against his skin as he waited for the enemy to finally show their faces. Explosions above the Titan captain and Xander’s words cleared his reminiscing mind, focusing his anger once more as his suit’s advanced systems picked up the sound of boots running on cement floors. He knew the treacherous bastards were close, and their close proximity fuelled him even more. Locke was going to show each and every one of them that dared to get in his way exactly how a Grim Wolf could hunt.

  A gunshot, like the shot fired before athletes set off, started what would be a battle to remember - if anyone survived it.

  The windows on ground level and above filled up with enemy rifles, all of them aimed at the defenders inside of the courtyard. To Locke’s surprise the enemy soldiers dared to rush through the door in front of him, no doubt they thought they were being brave, but they would soon learn the error of their ways.

  Five soldiers dropped to their knees and opened fire on Locke and the Lancers hiding in sight of the door. A few more traitors moved as they fired, taking cover behind low walls just outside of the doorway. The enemy was not going to sit back and wait for the defenders to die, no they were going to try and blitz them, shock them with sheer weight of numbers and then steamroll over whatever was left. It was typical of the commanders under Lord Vincent’s command. Throw enough bodies into the grinder and hope it gets choked up before the battle is lost.

  That tactic was arrogant and selfish, but Locke did not mind it this time. No, he preferred to have as many enemies rushing at him as possible, only then could he fight at his full potential.

  Locke took the first few shots, standing still and facing the enemies as they fired their pristine weapons at him and the men and women he was fighting to protect. The bullets could not penetrate his Titan suit, bullets ricocheting from his chest and arms as he remained unmoving. He clipped his rifle to his back and lowered his head as if in silent prayer.

  There was no prayer, he moved forward suddenly, his speed bordering on the supernatural. To Gabriel Locke everything happened in slow motion, seeing every movement before it happened, stepping exactly where he needed to be to follow up his blows, dodging hits and counterattacking. To everyone else he was a blur, his Titan suit and the years of becoming one with it transforming him into a whirlwind of death and slaughter.

  Locke shouldered a soldier, grabbing another’s head with his right hand. The one he had shouldered flew into the wall beside the door, his body cracking as it hit the stone, his life vanishing from his broken body before it hit the ground. Locke slammed the other soldier’s head into the ground as he slid forward from the momentum, tossing the dead soldiers body at one of his comrades nearby. The slide carried him into the midst of three more traitors that had stepped into Locke’s killing ground. The first died with an uppercut, breaking the man’s jaw and neck. The second soldier died from a kick to the chest he never saw coming, he only saw the flash of the Titan’s mirrored visor for a moment before his life ended. The third received an elbow to the side of the head. He never knew the Titan Captain was next to him, feeling only the wind of movement on his exposed cheek before he perished, his head caved in from the force of Locke’s blow.

  One by one the enemy died without much resistance. Another took a punch to the stomach, his organs bursting inside his body. More died with every blow Locke landed, shattering bones and liquefying vital organs. One soldier saw Locke coming for him, the Titan taking a moment to move normally to instil fear into the hearts of the enemy. He would do that after every few kills, halting and purposefully moving slower so the enemy could see and know what was hunting them. Locke grabbed the man by an arm and swung him over his head like a ragdoll, slamming him on-top of another soldier, both of them dying in a heap of splintered bones and leaking flesh.

  Locke heard a gargle from the ground below. He looked down as he blocked a rifle shot fired at him, seeing a soldier reaching for him as the blood poured from his open mouth. Locke did not hesitate, lifting his leg and ending the man’s suffering with a firm stomp. He did not particularly like the idea of killing humans, but there was no other choice, he had to kill to protect.

  Fury and rage burned within the Grim Wolves’ captain, and it forced him ever forward, killing as he went, battering the enemy with his armoured limbs, crushing any hope those soldiers ever had of surviving the battle for New Horizon.

  The anger overtook Locke, running the last few steps towards the doorway the enemy had come through. He was done showing off, playing with these arrogant fools was a waste of time. Gunfire erupted from the traitors from above Locke’s position, but it did not stop the Titan.

  It took only a few steps before Locke was through the doorway. Inside the enemy was scampering for cover as the Titan showed them its armoured face. Its armour was scarred and dirty, but the snarling wolf on its arm was still visible.

  Moments later the Alpha Wolf of the Grim Wolves freed his shackles and that is when the screaming started.

  The Lancers returned fire as the enemy peppered the defenders from their positions. There was no turning back now, and there was no escaping the final, frantic battle of Santor. Bodies dropped on both sides, one force fighting for survival and a future, the other for murder and conquest. Sabian’s marksmen were well trained snipers, taking a heavy toll on the enemy number with every shot they fired, but with every traitor that died two more took its place. Luckily the defenders did not have to worry about counter sniper fire, Godwaker had seen to that. Enemy snipers had tried to reach the roof of the building overlooking the courtyard, but from the distance Godwaker had made sure that no-one ever set foot on roof of the south building. The thunderous fire from Godwaker was a welcome sound to all of the defenders, but its non-stop reaping would soon draw the unwanted attention of other, more inhuman enemies. Its vigil over the Wolves and Lancers would have to end sometime, and already traitors and beasts were growing tired of the artificial thunder murdering their own.

  Jay and the Lancers serving as his spotters and guard were unaware that on the ground a horde of surviving monsters had followed the sound of Godwaker, pinpointing its location with ease, and were now breaking into the lower levels of the building Godwaker was firing from. To make matters worse, the commander in charge of the traitors had ordered the last of his aerial units to destroy the very same building.

  Soon Corporal Jay’s position would be attacked from above and below, and a desperate battle to stay alive until pickup would tak
e place in the burning heat of New Horizon’s sun.

  One of Sabian’s snipers fell, his body falling backwards, a burning hole in his chest. The man had died instantly from the bullet that had destroyed his heart and lungs, making no sound as his life lost its grip on his dead body.

  Rivers picked up the dead Lancer’s rifle and sighted through its scope, searching for targets in the windows overlooking the courtyard. He fired the high calibre rifle a few times, rounds penetrating through walls, seeing past the stone and cement with his helmet’s Reap sight. Rivers was down on one knee, using his solid armoured suit to anchor himself to the ground. The recoil from the marksman variant of the Kicker rifle was not enough to bother a Titan, instead the position helped Rivers’ accuracy. He was the oldest Titan still in active duty, and was not going to take any chances with his aging body inside the protective shell of his suit.

  Rivers could not see Locke anymore, the Titan captain vanishing into the building and into the midst of the traitors just as the fire had erupted from both sides. He did not dare to try and raise Locke on the radio, knowing full well that he was on one of his rare rampages, and nothing anyone said or did would be able to stop him. Locke would stop when everything standing against him was either dead or running away. And in most cases the enemies that were attempting to flee never made it very far, hunted down by the Alpha Wolf as their backs were turned and their cowardly hearts searching for salvation. That salvation would never come and Locke was not one to allow a coward and enemy to live longer than they needed to.