Gamma Nine (Book One) (40 page)

Locke stepped
closer and put a hand on the Lemink’s shoulder, looking down at the
tired soldier. “All in good time Corporal. Where are the
civilians?”

Lemink
swallowed and understood that whatever was going on was far above
his rank, he raised a hand and pointed at a side door leading to
another part of the medical facility. “In the morgue sir. It was
the most secure section of the hospital.”

“Good,” Locke
replied, he motioned to Christian and Nathan to go check out the
condition of the civilians and the morgue.

The Titan
brothers moved without a word, moving at a quick pace through the
door leading to the morgue. They disappeared in the darkness beyond
the door, reporting back moments later with civilian count and
condition.

Lemink was
visibly nervous. He looked around at the other Titans, daring to
ask a question, unable to maintain discipline because of his
exhaustion. “Are you here to rescue us?” he asked.

“Of course,”
Pyoter replied, stepping closer to the man, lowering his voice so
the man understood the gravity of the situation. “But our fight is
not over yet Corporal.”

Lemink’s
shoulders sagged visibly, words escaping him as he realized that
his men were not out of trouble just yet.

“Have faith
soldier,” Sabian said from close by. He had already been planning a
defence with Locke a few feet away from the other Wolves. “Our
arrival here has piqued the interest of enemies nearby, steel your
nerves, they will be upon us soon enough.”

Lemink turned
and walked to where his rifle had been resting against a table full
of radio equipment. He picked it up and pulled back on the slide,
arming it with a greasy click.

Xander slapped
Lemink on the back. “Don’t worry too much about it; we will be
fighting next to you and your men. If something big and nasty comes
for you, just hide behind Pyoter,” Xander pointed at the giant
Titan, “they won’t see you behind him.”

Xander’s words
brought a chuckle from Lemink and the rest of the Wolves.

Locke silenced
the light-hearted moment with a wave of his hand before speaking.
“Take up positions outside and cover the front of the building with
the Lancers. Corporal Lemink and his men will take cover inside and
defend the civilians.” Locke said, relaying his orders to Christian
and Nathan who were still in the morgue calming down the scared
civilians.

Christian and
Nathan would remain inside as well, acting as a final line of
defence should whatever enemy shows up breach the defences outside.
Luckily the building sported no rear entrance or even any kind of
weakness from the building’s rear. Engineers had designed and built
the administrative building like a solid concrete block, with only
a front entrance and windows on the second floor. The lead engineer
must have been a military man, because the building was more like a
bunker than anything else.

Sabian walked
away, heading for the door leading outside. He was already issuing
orders to his men as engines growled to life and vehicles moved to
form defensive barriers in front of the entrance to the
administrative building.

Locke heard
Sabian tell his men to stop playing grab ass and form up, allowing
Locke a wye smile behind his visor.

The Wolves
exited next as Lemink’s men entered, all of them still in shock,
looking at the Titans with wide-eyed admiration as they passed
them.

Locke was the
last to step outside, opening up a channel to his scout. “What do
you see Corporal Jay?” he asked the Titan sniper.

“Shit sir, and
a lot of it,” Jay replied.

“Good, I was
starting to feel like this was too easy.” Locke replied.

All of the
Wolves heard their Captain’s words, and for a moment they all
smiled out of anticipation.

Soon those
smiles would be grimaces, and the situation would be far from
easy.

The Beast was
the excrement heading for the Titan’s metaphorical spinning blades,
pouring out of every crevice like a tidal wave of mutant flesh, all
of them unique in form and size. Grotesque parodies of human beings
streamed from buildings to the north of the medical compound. The
commotion caused by the silencing of the traitorous forces had
piqued the attention of the monsters further north, monsters that
had been heading for the giant mushroom cloud forming in the night
sky when sounds of killing drew them from their hungry path.

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.

“
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 for
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.