Gamma Nine (Book One) (4 page)

He had no idea
how long he had to wait for that sudden unbearable jolt back into
reality, but he already knew today’s surgery would be the worst one
yet. The masked scientist and doctors were attaching his final
interface ports to his spine. He could feel the burning agony as it
spread from specific points along his back and neck. Tremors from
the pain, bone deep, was affecting his ability to stand. Silly, he
thought, back in reality he was strapped to a table of reflective
iron. Scores of people laboured over his ravaged body, working with
practiced precision to build something deadly.

Build something
deadly, he smirked as the thought crossed his mind, his mind made
it sound like he was no longer human. But the torment he had
suffered reminded him every time how human he really was.

It was taking
longer than usual. By his estimates he should have awoken on that
cold table a long time ago, screaming as reality reasserted itself
over his senses. But he was still trapped here with the ever
growing unease he felt to his core. His limbs were heavy and
aching, throbbing more and more while he tried to remain
upright.

A sudden rise
of fluid from his stomach made him fall forward, his aching arms
resting his forward motion. Invisible fluid he could not see rushed
out of him, it tasted like blood and bile. He could taste and feel
it leaking out of him onto the grey sand, but he could not see it.
That ignited a small spark of panic, he tried to stand and refocus,
but his limbs were lead that anchored him to the dusty ground. The
fluid forcing him to splutter and cough, draining what little power
he had left. You are still so weak and so pathetic Christian.

His head
snapped up, those words, they were not his. Across the desert a
figure stood, shifting in and out of focus like smoke dissipating
in the wind. The figure had spoken them in his mind, but the voice
sounded different. A voice from the past that still haunted him, he
had not heard it in a very long time. It was from a memory he had
tried to bury many times, yet he never succeeded in doing so.

The figure
stood motionless, Christian felt it grinning at him, challenging
him to respond. To his surprise it raised a smoky limb and waved at
him. Just as he was about to reply to those hateful words in kind
the desert changed around him. Bright light flooded his senses,
pain lancing through him like impaling spikes driven through his
body, it told him that he was waking up in reality. His eyes
snapped open, hearing only a deafening scream echo around him.
Realization dawned on him, he was the one screaming.

Christian bit
down, forcing the scream to stop. He struggled to hold it back, his
eyes filled with tears from the effort of fighting the anguish he
felt. He focused on the words emblazoned on the ceiling of the room
he had woken up in. Courage. Honour. Pride. Those words were always
an inspiration to him. A female face appeared between him and the
ceiling, dazzling brown eyes stared down at him. He knew her well,
her presence succour to his torture.

“Titan, welcome
back,” she whispered. “We almost lost you this time, be strong, the
final step will begin soon.”

He could
imagine her smile underneath her medical mask. Such beauty was not
meant to see men suffer like she had. She touched his arm to
signify that she wanted him to be brave, and he responded with a
slight nod of understanding. Christian steeled himself against what
was to come.

Above him the
ceiling opened up with the sound of grinding gears and clattering
chains. A new apparatus appeared from the hidden chamber now
revealed to him, something he had not seen before. It reminded him
of an ancient torture device he had seen in old books, our
ancestors of old Earth called it an iron maiden. The thought caused
him to stir, his muscles tensed against the straps that held him in
place on the cold table. Its rough shape looked human, with
thousands of needles pointing inwards, tubes ran from the needles
to a giant reservoir tank mounted on the back of the unknown
machine that hovered above him.

One of the
medical staff lowering the frightening device saw Christian’s
unease. The man was controlling it with a mobile control panel,
fidgeting with buttons and levers constantly. “Not to worry hero,
this will make you whole again,” the man said with an unnerving
level of levity to his voice.

It seemed like
he was enjoying this. Christian returned the man’s comment with a
painful wry smile. Fool, he thought through the agony. He closed
his eyes and waited for the torture to begin anew.

“Corporal
Quinn,” the female with the brown eyes spoke at his side. “This is
the Nano Insertion Platform. It sounds very erotic, but I assure
you it is not. The NIP is the final stage of your surgery; it will
allow us to inject the Liquid Nano Robotics into your muscles and
nervous system.” She walked to the table that held a plethora of
surgical equipment, picking up a syringe full of blue liquid. She
carefully tapped the syringe with her petite fingers and returned
to his side.” After today your body will heal much faster, and the
pain should subside within a few days. Please understand Corporal
Quinn, this might be the last stage, but it is the most
painful.”

Christian tried
to speak, but his mouth was dry and his throat stinging, only one
word escaped his cracking lips before he had to swallow the pain
down. “Ready.”

“This will make
you dream, it will keep you from flat lining again,” she said,
sticking the needle into his aching neck, whispering her final
words close to his ear, “I will find you if you get lost.”

He didn’t have
a chance to respond. The last thing Christian saw before he was
back in the never ending world of his dreams was the NIP aligning
itself above his prone body. Darkness was replaced by the alien
light of the sunless desert. This time, however, the desert was
different.

The crew
quarters on-board the Hyperion were not ostentatious like those
on-board other void fairing vessels, they were simple and
functional. Most of the crew rarely used their quarters for more
than resting, every other waking hour they spent at their stations,
giving mechanical life to dead metals and pipes. Captain Gabriel
Locke sat at his tiny desk inside his dark quarters pouring over a
map, low light discipline was protocol during resupplying. What
little light he had was aimed at the map he had been studying for
hours, the files that had accompanied the map piled up around him
by the dozens.

A knock at the
door dragged him out of his reverie. There was only one person in
this galaxy that would ignore his orders so blatantly.

“Enter,
Lieutenant,” his voice carrying through the metal door of his
quarters with ease.

The visitor
entered without a word and sat down on the Captain’s bunk with too
much familiarity. He was clad in his mesh suit, preferring to
always be ready for action. Tall, muscular and an ego to match his
chiselled facial features. Dark brown hair, cut short, covered his
scalp. Locke was taller, but less muscular than his Lieutenant,
dark blonde with greying hair at his temples. Captain Locke on the
other hand, had an aura of authority around him, like a nobleman
from ancient Earth. He was a hard man to say no to, and an even
harder man to dislike.

His visitor
stared at him, patiently willing him to look up, he wanted to
talk.

With a sigh of
frustration Locke shifted his eyes from the table in front of him
and looked at his second in command. “Yes Nathan? What is on your
mind?” he said, leaning back in his uncomfortable chair.

“Why are you
not on the surface overseeing the progress of the new recruit?”
Nathan asked.

“Why aren’t
you?”

Nathan just
grunted at the idea. He was always the stubborn rebel. An awkward
silence settled on both of them.

“Speak your
mind Lieutenant, you know I how I feel about keeping your mouth
shut when things need to be said.”

“It is about
this new recruit, sir.”

“What about
him?”

“I think it’s a
mistake to accept him into the Wolves, sir.”

“Drop the
formalities. Speak plainly. It is not about accepting him or
denying him, we can’t pick and choose which orders to follow. The
military, especially the part we belong to, is not a
democracy.”

Nathan drew a
breath. “Gabriel, this recruit is not ready, he will not make the
cut, and he will cause problems for us, even get some of us
killed.”

“You haven’t
even seen him in action, why the negativity?” Locke reached for a
file and pulled it from the pile on his desk. “Have you been
reading a different report than mine? His performance is nominal,
and his survival rate is higher than both of ours when we went
through the trials. He might need some guidance and training in our
ways, but we can teach him how to be a Wolf.” Locke shifted in his
seat, the metal edges of the demon chair already causing his limbs
to go numb. He knew Nathan would try and dodge his first
question.

“Why would
command do this? Why would they take the best squad in the galaxy,
make us drag our asses back to the safe zone, and then give us an
FNG like him?” Nathan’s voice rose slightly with disdain as he
pronounced FNG.

“Your personal
connection to the situation was noted before the order was given.
And I am sure your ego was at the top of their list when they made
their decision,” Locke answered, giving Nathan a sarcastic grin.
“Orders are orders Lieutenant, I get mine and you get yours.
Speaking of which, I expect you to be on the surface within the
hour. We have only a few days to train the Corporal before we
leave.”

“Yes sir!”
Nathan replied with a mocking tone to his voice.

“You are
excused. I have a mission to plan.”

There was
nothing left to be said, Nathan left the Captain’s quarters and
closed the door behind him. In the corridor he cursed himself for
bringing this up with his superior. Nathan never wanted to show any
emotion around others, emotion was a weakness for the sick and
dying. He looked down at his hands, flexing them as he rolled his
neck and shoulders. That action always made him focus better. With
his mind now clearer he turned and stalked down the corridor
towards Hyperion’s shuttle bays.

Stomach
churning, nausea hit him as he landed on the strange sand. It took
him a few moments to compose himself and sit up. Her voice echoed
in his mind, those beautiful eyes, helping him regain some of his
drained focus. New levels of pain sent waves of coldness through
him, numbing his entire body from head to toe. He tried to lift his
hand and wipe the dust from his face, but a sudden realization made
him freeze in place. Sound. There was sound this time, dust
buffeted against him and thunder rumbled off in the distance.

“Hello,” said a
voice from behind him. “We meet again.”

If Christian
had been wearing pants, he would have needed a new pair. He turned
to face the figure, the creature of smoke stood only a few feet
away from him. It looked at him with its hollow eyes. No
discernable facial features could be seen except the outlines of
what mimicked a human smile.

“You have
questions and I have the answers. Would you like to play a game
before I answer them?” the figure said.

A game, he
thought, something about the way it was said reminded him of a
memory. “Who or what are you?” Christian asked.

“Oh,
introductions are not necessary my friend. You already know exactly
who I am. Go on, guessing is the first part of the game.” The
figure took a step closer as it spoke, leaving no footprints behind
it.

“I don’t care
what game you want to play. Answer me!”

“There! You
almost had it, try again kid. I can hear you even if you aren’t
moving your lips. I can see you grasping for memories behind that
grim face of yours.” It seemed to hover instead of walk, as if the
sand around it was no hindrance to the creature. “We have never
spoken before, but we are allies you and I.”

“I...can’t
remember,” he whispered, “you are just a dream, just my imagination
playing tricks on me because of all the sedatives in my system. I
am no ally to something like you.”

“You, me, both
have no meaning here. In this place individuality does not exist,
everything in this dull place is mine and yours, yours and mine.”
It was even closer now, silently shifting over the sand. “But I am
getting far ahead of myself, that question was asked too soon. We
are not ready to know that answer yet.”

“What? That
makes no”

The figure cut
Christian off with a wave of its smoky limb. “It would seem that
our time is up. Such a pity, we could have had some fun. See you
soon, kiddo.”

Christian had
no time to answer, the pain in his body grew to new levels of
agony, and he closed his eyes as he tried to ride out this wave of
torment. A new sound was drowning out the sound of the desert,
overlapping all of his hearing. He opened his eyes, the pain still
substantial. The desert had vanished again, replaced by a dimly lit
room of white walls and green curtains. A man was standing by the
foot of his bed writing on a clipboard as he scanned Christian’s
paralyzed body. He was finally out of surgery and he was not
strapped down anymore, but still he was unable to move. He could
not speak or do anything more than move his eyes, the man knew he
could not because he began to speak as soon as their eyes
met.

“Ah, awake are
we? Very good then,” he said. “I’m Engineer Walters. You can
address me as Sam Walters, Sam the Engineer or ‘Oi, you with the
wrench!’.” He tapped his tool belt as confirmation. Sam grabbed
hold of Christian’s big toe and shook it as a greeting. “Nice to
meet you,” Sam said, wiping his hand on his overhauls, an utterly
pointless thing to do considering how dirty he was, “Corporal.”