Gamma Nine (Book One) (44 page)

The convoy came
to a shaky halt in the chosen courtyard. Soldiers that were still
able to fire their weapons took positions wherever there was cover
to be found.

Heavy weapons
were hastily mounted on broken walls and piles of rubble that used
to be walls, covering as many entries into the courtyard as humanly
possible.

Sabian was with
his men, speaking to them as he walked among them, shouldering his
personal marksman rifle.

Locke finished
contacting his wayward second in command before he moved to speak
to his Wolves, all three of them stood nearby speaking in hushed
tones. “What’s the problem sergeant?” Locke asked Rivers as he
joined his Wolves in the shadow of what used to be a cement smoke
stack.

“This business
with Nathan and the rookie is not sitting well with us. We can’t
leave them behind,” Rivers said.

“I will not
leave them. They are my brothers,” Pyoter added.

Xander nodded
in agreement, “I don’t know the rookie that well yet, but he is a
Wolf, and that means we stick together. You know that better than
any of us, Captain.”

“They chose to
risk their lives to pursue another target. If they are not back by
the time everyone is ready to leave they will be left here. My
mandate does not allow me to risk the lives of the people under our
charge because of personal reasons.”

Locke’s words
had a visible effect on his squad. They had to reluctantly agree
with what he said. Their job was to keep the people safe, not risk
their lives unnecessarily. The Wolves were soldiers first and
foremost, and their orders were clear, even if the situation
changed around them.

“Besides,”
Locke continued, “they are less than a mile from here, and they
should make it.” Locke smiled as he finished speaking. He loved to
see his squad band together, even if it was to countermand his own
orders.

“You are a sick
man,” Xander said, shaking his head in disbelief.

The Wolves
shared a final chuckle together before the enemy would be upon them
again. The activity in the air above the extraction point would
draw in anything and everything unfriendly in the area around the
industrial zones.

A drop was
always a complicated manoeuvre, especially when it came to
extraction. The easy part was dodging ground and air attacks to get
your cargo down, and then things just went to shit from there.
Somehow pilots had to stick around until extraction after drop-off,
flying around mindlessly to support the ground forces and at the
same time keeping their own asses in the air. If that wasn’t
enough, pilots were then expected to clear pickup and extraction
points alone, and then circle until the ground forces were ready to
leave. And the cherry on top of that crap cake that was an
extraction, was all of the hustle and bustle alerting even more
enemies to their position and intentions.

It almost never
went to plan, and everyone was already tired and tense from
previous battles. Everyone on the ground and in the air was already
expecting something to go wrong, and it was only a matter of time
before it did.

Once the
civilians and injured were ready to be extracted the first drop
ship would dart down and be loaded as quickly as possible. One by
one the drop ships would dive and land to pick up everyone they
could, the last drop ship always taking the most damage from
whatever was encircling the ground forces.

Until then, the
soldiers on the ground would have to hold of anything that
approached them with hostile intent, and Gunn could already see the
enemy approaching from the south.

Gunn mumbled
something about she might as well have a target painted on her
backside before she opened a channel to Locke and Sabian. Jinx did
not dare to laugh when Gunn was in one of her moods, and he valued
his life more than making fun of her grumpiness.

“Enemies are
approaching from the south Captain Locke. We are pulling back in
case they have anti air weapons. We count a shit load of troops and
at least two anti-personnel vehicles. We will support you as much
as we can, but we can’t risk being shot down. Gunn out.” Gunn cut
the link after both Locke and Sabian acknowledged her assessment,
pulling back on the Maiden’s flight stick, bringing the drop ship
into a high loop away from the approaching enemies.

“What’s
coming?” Lemink asked. He was crouched beside Locke, his rifle
peaking over a low wall facing the south side of the courtyard.

“Hell, but this
time they aren’t the biting kind. Keep your head down and keep
firing,” Locke said to Lemink. He switched his helmet speakers to
full volume. “All of you! Keep firing and hold your positions!
Concentrate your fire on the troops. The Wolves will take care of
the heavies. Whatever you do, don’t die! They don’t accept hero’s
names in the books of legends if you shit yourself! Give them hell
brothers!” Locke finished with a raised fist, cementing his resolve
to his squad and the soldiers around them.

“Good speech,”
Xander said sarcastically.

The soldiers
and Wolves roared with renewed fervour as the traitors drew ever
closer. Hands tightened against rifle grips and sweat poured down
nervous foreheads. But their courage would have to hold until the
end, if it did not then everything they had fought for in Santor
would be for nothing.

“
Death, the shadow
that hunts us around every corner, the eventuality at the end of
the road, we have seen its face. Do not ask when you will succumb
to destruction’s embrace, for no-one can tell you your future.
Instead, ask what you should do before you are taken by the
Reaper’s skeletal grasp. What reason do you have to show fear now?
Do you distrust your own abilities? Or do you lack the faith to see
your journey to its end? Know this, if you falter before your name
echoes in the realm beyond, then you will vanish from all
existence, falling forever through the nothingness on the edges of
forgotten realities. Make your mark soldier, make them remember
your name, and make them all regret ever meeting you on the
battlefield. Death must be your constant companion, accept its gift
and harvest in its honour!”
- Lord Wilhelm Alyn, Lord and Commander of the first expedition
into the dead zones, lost during a catastrophic jump drive failure,
no trace of his ship was ever found, 2521 - 12 ASD

They were
pinned down behind a bullet ridden wall, Christian still clutching
Tristan in his arms, using his free hand to fire his pistol blindly
over the wall at the enemy.

Nathan’s
armoured form crouched with his back to his brother, reloading his
rifle, pouring fire at the black armoured soldiers pinning them
down.

Jessica, Nash
and Sam had their backs to the wall they were all taking cover
behind. Jessica helped Christian reload his pistol as the Titan
fired to keep heads down. Sam held his hands over his ears, trying
to drown out the sound of unending gunfire around him, humming a
tune he knew well to help calm his nerves. The poor engineer was
not used to this kind of violence, and never thought he would be in
the middle of an actual fire fight. Sam was glad he had not pissed
himself out of fear, and was even more proud that his bowels
remained silent throughout the dire situation.

Nash on the
other hand was relishing the fight, smiling to himself as he
reloaded his rusty old shotgun with shells he kept in his dirty
trousers. His shotgun roared four fearful shots at the enemy,
missing everything Nash aimed at, but it kept the traitorous
bastards from charging their rapidly deteriorating position.

The two Titans
and four companions were forced to take cover in a raw metal
wholesaler’s shop front on the south-western edge of the complex
surrounding the extraction zone. Enemies wielding shiny new rifles
had tried to flank Locke and everyone else in the courtyard from
the west, but they had run directly into the Titan brothers who
were trying to sneak past the advancing enemy lines.

Black armoured
soldiers had spotted the Titans scrambling over rubble, crossing
their line of sight as they advanced to encircle the Wolves and
Lancers protecting the extraction site.

Close to fifty
rifles had opened fire on the Titans and their companions, luckily
hitting nothing but stone and concrete around them. The black
armoured traitors were terrible shots, and Nathan was going to
expose their weakness soon - he was just waiting for the right
time.

One soldier
fired a larger calibre rifle from a wall directly overlooking the
building the Titans and their companions were pinned down in. It
was a standard issue anti-infantry machine gun, its firing
mechanism fed by a giant belt of torso pulping ammunition. Two
other soldiers were helping the heavy machine gunner, one keeping
debris from feeding into the weapon as it ate through its
ammunition, the other carried boxes with more belts for the weapon,
opening one as the weapons current belt was about to run out.

Nathan listened
to the sound the weapon made, hearing it above the rest of the
gunfire around it. Its distinctive whine and screech as the fired
as all too familiar in a situation like this. Nathan had noticed
that the soldiers had to be new recruits, their experience with
their weapons and their terrible aim proof of their lack of
training. It was only a matter of time before they would create
opportunities for their enemy to expose, and one of those
opportunities was about to present itself.

Christian saw
Nathan unclip the launchers from his back and took that as the
signal to get ready. He handed Tristan over to Jessica, safely
setting the girl down in her sister’s arms. Christian brushed the
back of his armoured hand against Jessica’s dirty cheek. “Whatever
happens, stay down. That goes for you two as well,” Christian said,
his helmet turning to look at Nash and Sam in turn.

Jessica, Nash
and Sam nodded, Tristan half smiled at Christian’s words and held
on tighter to her sister. The poor girl was probably hungry, tired
and scared beyond anything Christian could imagine.

Christian
placed a hand on Tristan’s shoulder, squeezing it softly. “Don’t
you worry little one. It will be over before you know it,” he said,
his voice sounding mechanical through his helmet speakers. But the
warmth of his words could still be felt.

Tristan’s smile
broadened slightly and pressed her head tightly against her
sister’s chest.

“When it
happens, Christian, you lead with your shield, I will be right
behind you,” Nathan said.

“Understood,”
Christian replied. He unclipped his shield with is free hand,
firing a few more shots from his pistol at the enemy.

Nathan’s voice
changed as he spoke again, a moment of sentiment shining through
his diamond hard exterior. “Do you remember the stories mother told
us about the Last Stand of Koralis?” he asked.

“I remember. A
handful stood against insurmountable evil, giving their people the
time to escape to safety,” Christian replied.

“Exactly, let’s
make these bastards scream,” Nathan said, the anger in his voice
already starting to bubble over.

Christian did
not need to reply. He knew exactly what his brother meant. It was
time to release the bonds and let the Wolf, the Titan spirit,
free.

The high
calibre machine gun clicked empty, its barrel and receiver glowed
red hot from the non-stop firing. The other soldiers around the
machine gun increased their weight of fire, blanketing the building
with lead. The soldier with the boxes of ammunition helped the
gunner to slide in a new belt, struggling to get the new belt into
position. The inexperienced soldiers were unaware of the fact that
they had warped the firing receiver and barrel of the heavy weapon
from continues fire.

“Now!” Nathan
yelled. He rose with both of his launchers aimed at the heavy
weapon’s position, one launcher in each armoured hand. A thump
thump announced the launcher’s part in the fight, hurtling two
explosive rounds at high speed towards the weapon and its crew.

They never even
got a chance to avoid what was about to happen; their deaths
pre-determined when Nathan had fired his weapons. The two explosive
rounds struck home, the weapon and all of its ammunition exploding
into a ball of fire and shrapnel.

Christian
vaulted over the crumbling wall just as the heavy weapon went up in
flames. Soldiers in close proximity to its position died as they
were mowed down by shrapnel and boxed ammunition ignited by the
fireball engulfing the anti-infantry weapon.

Fire ricocheted
from Christian’s shield, but it did not halt his advance. Behind
him Nathan had jumped over the wall as well and was already
reloading his launchers as both of them ran towards the
traitors.

Christian fired
his own Kicker one handed from behind his shield, peppering two
soldiers who were crouching behind a make-shift barrier. Both of
them died instantly. Another died as Christian battered him with
his shield, crushing his ribcage and sending the poor soldier
flying.

Nathan fired
his launchers again and eight more traitors died. He dropped his
launchers as he ran closer to a group of soldiers hiding behind a
broken wall. These soldiers had taken cover when their own weapon
had exploded and had taken their eyes off the enemy’s position.
Nathan chose to fight with his fists in such close quarters, and he
made every swing of his armoured fist count. Nathan jumped over the
rubble and landed in the midst of five soldiers still reeling from
the explosion. His first punch broke the neck of the closest
soldier, his back swing cracking another soldier’s armour, his life
ending almost instantly. One of the soldiers tried to raise his
rifle to fire at Nathan but his body was torn up by bullets hitting
him from behind. The other two soldiers died where they stood, one
by Christian’s Kicker the other by Nathan’s armoured elbow crushing
his throat.