Gamma Nine (Book One) (8 page)

“I don’t think
I can, I lost that ability long ago.” Nathan said nothing for a
moment. “Whatever.” he added with a grunt of surrender.

The other
Titans, Rivers and Xander, watched in silence, there was no point
in interfering with Nathan’s outburst, the captain had dealt with
it swiftly enough. They were, however, ready to jump on his back if
he forced his way past Pyoter, an impossible task in any case.

Locke looked
back at Pyoter as Nathan reluctantly took his seat again.

The giant just
shrugged in bewilderment, an awkward sight to behold from a fully
armoured Titan, Pyoter’s size making it seem even more awkward.

A voice on the
edge of panic broke the silence in Locke’s earpiece. “Captain, you
have an incoming transmission from....” The voice trailed off, the
person speaking sounded very nervous

“Buck up
soldier. A transmission from...? Let me hear it?

The radio
operator on the other end swallowed hard. “It’s from the Stygian
Council, sir.”

“Oh. Shit.” was
all Locke could say.

The force of
the blow from the fat monster had broken the wall and hurled both
of them deep into the adjoining room. Christian would not be able
to regain his footing when they landed because they were almost
vertical as they approached the powdery floor.

He knew what he
had to do as soon as they hit the ground. The moments seemed to
stretch for an eternity before they met the floor. The
bone-crushing impact did not surprise Christian, his suit had
compensated for the coming impact while in mid-air. The sudden
lurch of gravity reasserting itself over their bodies gave him the
opportunity to break free from the deadly embrace.

The monsters
had no idea of knowing that the Anvil shield on the Titan’s back
had more than just the one obvious ability of stopping things. With
a word from the Operator the arm mechanism holding the shield in
place sprung loose with a shocking blast, causing the entwined pair
to bounce like a skipping stone on a quiet pond. The stocky enemy
had no grip on the Titan, its club-like limbs unable to hold on
with any real strength. The force of the initial connection had
made them stick together, but Christian was in no way trapped and
the shield manoeuvre had forced them to separate.

He used the
separation to bring his knees up and kick the monster in the chest.
His armoured boots connected with the beast with a sickening sound,
caving in its ribcage with ease. The double kick was enough to
fling the fat one backwards, crunching into the gangly one that
poured into the room through the new cavity in the wall.

He watched the
two scrambling to stand. He had rolled back from the kick, skidding
to a halt on all fours. The fat monster was breathing hard, no
doubt having punctured lungs from pieces of ribcage wrenched
through his vital organs. It struggled to rise, trapping the other
beneath it.

He wasted no
time. He got to his feet and moved to the mound of squirming
mutated flesh. He yanked his blade free from the shoulder of the
larger beast with his left hand and plunged it through the forehead
of the fat nightmare, it stopped breathing almost instantly.
Pulling the blade free of his first kill’s skull he stepped on top
of it and brought the heel of his right foot down on the head of
the other one. Its head cracked under the sudden pressure,
squeezing its brain matter through the cracks of it misshapen
skull.

Both were dead
silent now, leaking their life blood into the ground of the
Labyrinth.

Christian was
silently proud that he still held onto his rifle, never letting go
of it during the clash.

He finally
reloaded his rifle and left the room. There was no reason to be
quiet anymore; whatever was left in the Labyrinth would have heard
the struggle. He picked up the pace, jogging with his rifle
shouldered, ready to mow down anything else he encountered.

At the end of
the corridor a bright light highlighted the edges of the wall
splitting, revealing a hidden doorway to the next section of the
Labyrinth.

Christian ran
through it without hesitation.

The new section
of the maze was a giant hall, with round pillars protruding from
the ground. The pillars did not reach all the way up to the ceiling
of the hall. They varied in height forming what looked like
platforms to areas above him. Every pillar was big enough for an
armoured troop carrier to perch on, with only a few feet space
between every pillar. It hampered Christian’s ability to see the
side walls of the titanic hall. He noticed that the floor had
changed, it was bare stone, matching the colour of the brown
pillars everywhere. If he didn’t know better, this could have been
the inside of an Egyptian pyramid brought to New Horizon for the
sole purpose of confusing Operators.

There was a
grinding sound and a rumble from under his feet, a mechanism of
some kind had come to life somewhere far below him. In the distance
the floor split and fell away, like express elevators falling away
from view. Christian acted by jumping on the lowest pillar nearby,
he had decided to jump just in time, the floor he was standing on
fell away moments later. Looking down he could not see the bottom
of the hall, darkness consumed the depths below him, a gloom not
even his dark sight could penetrate. The pillars started shaking,
slowly they started to move. He stood, shocked at what he was
seeing, the creator of this place was indeed a genius.

The movement of
the pillars formed a spectacular, yet intricate, sight. They moved
and shifted, never colliding to create a challenging task to any
Operator. As he watched the pillars moved around one another,
patterns emerging as he watched, simple at first but the constant
shifting concealed the end of every pattern. It was obvious he had
to climb to reach something or somewhere.

Balance and
speed would be the key to getting through this. It would waste time
if he was trapped on one of the pillars moving on the outside of
the pattern. Luckily, Christian was never afraid of heights.

He took a good
run up and leaped to the next pillar that was only slightly higher
than the previous one. He landed firmly, still clutching his Kicker
in his hands, scanning the edges of the pillars above and below
him. The shifting of the hall warped one’s perception, blurring it
at the edges of one’s vision, it was almost sickening to be on the
pillars as they moved smoothly by some invisible guiding hand.

Up he went,
jumping on pillars, going ever higher.

Christian had
to lock the rifle into place over his shoulder after the first few
pillars, the distance and height difference between platforms was
growing. He would need both hands to help him climb. His reap sight
was silent, no enemies could be detected, no movement or sound
except for the stone pillars dancing around him.

He should have
known better by now, the calm before the storm was always the most
deceptive. He leaped and barely made the edge of the next platform
on his climb upwards. Christian regained his balance and looked
back at his jump point; movement to his left caught his eye. It was
just a blur between two pillars, something fast, very fast. His
rifle would be useless here, the shifting would break his line of
sight and the pillars would ensure another close quarter fight with
whatever was in the hall with him.

He caught sight
of a second blur between more of the pillars shifting, then a
third, a forth, and a fifth. This meant big trouble, if these were
anything like the previous encounter, his odds would not be
good.

At the exact
moment he was calculating his odds when one of the blurs jumped on
a platform below him. It was smaller than the nightmare duo in the
first section, its skin glistening from what looked like mucus,
half the size of a human but similarly shaped. The creature had
extra limbs extending from its back and sides, each of which ended
in a sharp spike. It was sniffing like an animal around it.
Christian could see the lack of eyes on closer inspection. He kept
still, watching the horror smell the air for traces of prey. His
reap sight revealed something terrible and horrifying about the
monster. Its age shocked Christian to his very core. It was
classified as twelve years old, a human child transformed into
something barely resembling its previous form. The Beast had no
discrimination when it came to what or who it infected.

Four more
misshapen and smaller creatures joined the first on its platform,
barking and snarling like rabid dogs at one another. They had the
same basic mutations with the only variation being extra limbs with
pincers instead of spikes on the ends. They acted as a pack,
waiting for the biggest one to act first.

It did move,
Christian’s reap sight zoomed in on the movement. The largest of
the five stopped sniffing and looked in his direction. Its slimy
lips parting to reveal a swollen purple tongue, licking its lips as
the others turned to face him as well.

They stood
there, just watching him, waiting for him to move; they wanted to
play, to hunt him and enjoy it.

Christian drew
his blade and the Anvil shield from his back, and vowed to not give
them the pleasure of feasting on him too easily.

He turned his
back on them and sprinted for the furthest edge, diving for the
next platform. He had to separate them somehow.

“Mister Locke.”
The voice stank of arrogance.

“I have a rank,
call me by it.” Locke replied, already knowing who it was, and
already irritated with the voice on the other side of the
transmission.

“As do I,
Captain.” The captain dripped with sarcasm.

“You hold no
rank in the military, and you are no Lord of mine.” Locke matched
the sarcastic tone word for word.

“Still playing
the big bad wolf I hear. I control P-SEP’s interests in this
sector, and by extension I control you.”

“What do you
want Vincent?” Locke’s ire was growing with every word this
so-called royal filth was uttering.

“Why are you
not searching for the Fateful Moment? It has been weeks since you
were ordered to do so.” Vincent was calm, every word over
pronounced like the rest of his bloodline.

“My orders are
none of your business, we are resupplying here then we are leaving
for the rebel sectors, the Hyperion is ready to leave as soon as we
are done with our new recruit.”

“You would do
well to show some respect.”

Locke did not
reply immediately, he chose his next words carefully, making sure
that it would have the necessary impact and clarity. “You and your
superiors can kiss my armoured ass.” Simple yet effective, he
thought.

Vincent’s voice
betrayed his anger, his calm exterior lie breaking slightly. “You
dare speak to me as if you are my equal!” Vincent regained some of
his composure before he spoke again. “You have been a thorn in my
side for too long, I will see you punished for this.”

“I am not some
dog you can punish whenever I bark back. Go to hell you bastard. I
will see you there.” Locke cut the transmission with a word behind
his visor before Vincent could reply. That scum had agitated him.
They needed to move soon, before that fool in orbit did something
stupid or reckless.

Locke switched
channels and hailed the Hyperion.

A female
communication officer’s voice answered the hail almost immediately.
“Captain Locke. How can I assist you?”

“Inform Captain
Gray that we will be departing soon. We have had an unfriendly
nudge from the Stygian Council’s commander.”

“Captain Gray
will be informed.”

Locke removed
his helmet with an escaping hiss, looking at his squad in turn. His
next words were difficult, he knew the implications of the order he
was about to give.

The rest of the
squad had heard nothing of the conversation between their captain
and the other person. They had just seen the irritation in their
leader’s movements.

Locke took a
breath and looked at Nathan. He hesitated before speaking. “Get him
out.” Nathans was already checking weapons. Locke turned to the
other Titans around him. “Go with him, be quick, we are
leaving.”

In orbit the
Hyperion’s plasma core was awoken from its slumber, brining ship
systems online across the board. Captain Gray was a veteran of many
void battles, having fought in the Rebel Wars many years ago before
his ship was commissioned to carry his current cargo. He liked the
Titans, especially Locke and the quiet big one. He respected Locke
for his strength, and for his ability to easily piss off any
commanding officer with just a few words.

The Hyperion
was a spear of silver armour plating, its spear tip a flattened-off
snub nose that housed the bridge and vital ship control rooms.
Thicker sections of the hull were spaced apart behind the flat
prow, almost coiling around the ship in loops of armour plating.
The core and its generators, and the all-important BEAM drive, were
behind these heavily armoured sections. It all ended in an array of
void engines, able to power the Hyperion between the stars with
phenomenal speed. In the belly of the Hyperion docking bays were
hidden behind immense bay doors. These doors would open and expel
its contingent of Crescent fighters and Firefly drop ships whenever
they were needed. Even the weapon arrays were hidden in the
vessel’s hull, and only revealed when something needed to be
killed.

Captain Gray
watched his bridge crew work, he was proud of every one of them;
their efficiency and competence was second to none in the entire
galaxy. Gray was bulky, no doubt the genes from his father the
champion ring fighter having something to do with it. He was almost
seven feet tall without any augmentations, muscled arms and meaty
legs were all hidden underneath his pristine officer’s suit. Anyone
that ever opposed him found out the hard way how strong he really
was. Many junior officers and piss for brains soldiers experiencing
his power in unsanctioned boxing matches on-board the Hyperion. He
enjoyed those moments in the ring, earning respect from everyone
on-board with every victory, the big and silent Titan the only one
to ever best him.