Gamma Nine (Book One) (48 page)

The enemy air
units that were still in the air had chosen to keep fighting,
following their commander’s last orders and making the enemy pay
for as long as their engines kept them in the air.

Corporal Jay
was being assaulted by a wing of enemy fighters while the beasts
climbed the inside of the building he had been sniping from. His
time was running out.

The defenders
of the extraction point, Lancers and Wolves, had mere minutes
before they would be overrun.

Locke did not
want to stop, his blood boiled inside his veins, his muscles
burning from the hunt, but he had no choice. It was going to be
close, and there was no time to waste.

It was time to
leave Santor.

“Fall back! We
are leaving this hell,” Locke said reluctantly over the radio.
“Gunn, are you there?”

“Yes Captain,”
Gunn replied. She and her sister drop ships were circling high over
the extraction zone, flanked by some of the remaining Flying
Tigers. The other Tigers were burning towards Scout Titan Jay’s
positions to lend him and the Lancers there some aid.

“Extraction
Protocol Zeta,” Locke ordered.

“Understood
Captain Locke,” Gunn replied.

“Brimstone’s
Embrace?” Locke asked over the radio.

Another pilot’s
voice replied, belonging to the owner of one of the Maiden’s sister
drop ships. “How may I be of service Titan?” the pilot
answered.

“Move to
support the package, retrieve it and haul ass back here,” Locke
ordered.

“Roger that
sir. Turning and burning now.”

Locke called
his Wolves back, and one by one they answered. Xander leapt through
the only remaining window overlooking the courtyard, shattering
glass and landing on the concrete ground. Pyoter and Rivers had
just started their hunt when the bad news had been heard, both of
them were already moving to where the Lancers were gathering near
Sabian’s remaining convoy troop carriers. Nathan joined up with
Locke inside the south building, covered in blood from his
relentless killing. Nobody except Nathan kept count of his kills in
those few moments after killing the enemy commander, and he would
keep the number to himself, no-one would ever believe exactly how
many traitors he had slain.

Locke stepped
onto the concrete where he had been fighting earlier. The dead
bodies of the men he had killed surrounded him as he made his way
towards where his Wolves were gathering.

Corporal Quinn
was not present, he was watching over Doctor Sax and her companions
in the west building, waiting there in relative safety and silence
until the time to extract came. The final drop ship, the Maiden,
would pick them up on the roof before leaving Santor forever.

Pyoter was
kneeling beside Sabian’s mangled body when Locke re-joined the
squad. Sabian was fastened to a field-stretcher, his body unable to
move, vials of painkillers and stimulants pumping through his body,
trying to fix what little they could or at least make Sabian’s
suffering less.

Locke knelt
down beside Sabian, placing his armoured hand on the man’s bloody
forehead. “Your new scars will be quite the lady magnets,” Locke
said jokingly, trying only to lift the spirits of his old
friend.

“At least...”
Sabian’s voice trailed off as if he was going to pass out. But the
man’s legendary inner strength brought him back from the edge,
“...I am still the prettier one.” His voice was strained and full
of pain, but he was not going to give up just yet.

“You always
were. Rest old friend,” Locke said, removing his helmet to look the
man in the eyes. “We are leaving. You will be home soon.” Locke did
not mean the Hyperion. The chances of Sabian fighting again or even
surviving was slim, but he secretly hoped Sabian’s stubbornness
would keep him alive long enough to see the void one last time.

“Promise
me...that you will save my Lancers,” Sabian forced out, his
breathing was becoming more weak with every passing second.
“Promise me, Gabriel...”

“They are as
much my brothers as my Wolves are yours. I promise, they will live
on,” Locke replied.

Sabian nodded
and closed his eyes. The Lancer-medic next to him froze, thinking
his commander had died. But after checking his heartbeat he relaxed
slightly.

“He goes first,
then the civilians. Is that clear?” Locke said to everyone nearby
before he placed his helmet on his head again.

No-one
disagreed with Locke’s suggestion. Sabian deserved to go first, he
had earned it.

Nathan’s
posture changed suddenly, his characteristic shoulder roll telling
everyone that knew him, that he had heard or seen something. “Here
they come,” he said, sounding almost excited.

As the Maiden
and the other drop ships dived to pick up the defenders below them,
the Wolves and the Lancers who were still able to fight formed a
semi-circle around the civilians and wounded.

The Wolves
stood shoulder to shoulder with the Lancers, some knelt down to aim
their rifles, others chose to stand and fight.

No-one knew who
would survive, but it did not matter, they still had some fight
left in them.

The Hyperion
was taking a pounding from enemy fighters and bombers. The Flying
Tigers that had stayed behind on the Hyperion were doing their best
to handle the swarm of traitors pummelling the Hyperion’s hull.
Luckily the heavy ship to ship ordinance was focused on the vessels
in the blockade, not that there were many left of those valiant
vessels.

Twelve vessels
of different classes had formed the line to protect the Immortal
Terran and her allies still rescuing people from the surface of New
Horizon. After a few hours of furious void battling, only three
remained. But that did not stop them from hurting the traitors
trying to break through the desperate blockade. Two cruisers and
one cargo vessel with an array of custom weaponry fired everything
they had at their enemies. The void around where most of the
blockade ships used to be was littered with fields of drifting
debris and the frozen bodies of brave crew members belonging to the
dead or dying vessels.

Enemy vessels
were forced to use hit and run tactics to try and reach the targets
beyond the blockade. The debris fields kept them from barging
through, striking the allies where it would hurt the most, or what
the traitors thought would be the most damaging blow.

Their target
was the Hyperion, and Gray’s words with Lord Vincent had ensured
that his vessel and his crew were at the top of the lists of things
the Lord of the North wanted to see destroyed.

So far nothing
had broken through that was big enough to bother the Hyperion and
the Immortal Terran anchored in orbit above Santor. But it would
only be a matter of time before the larger vessels obliterated the
three remaining blockade vessels.

“Shouldn’t we
help them?” Remy asked. The poor girl was looking distraught.

“Nothing we can
do will make any difference to the fate of those vessels and their
crews. They knew what they were getting into the moment they took
up positions to face the traitors. All we can do is remember them
for what they did, how they stood against evil, saving the lives of
thousands of people at the cost of their own,” Gray replied, still
seated in his command chair, leaving the co-ordination of fighters
protecting the Hyperion to Remy and her staff. Gray had enough on
his mind as he impatiently waited for Locke and everyone else to
return. His exterior seemed calm, but the sweat on his brow and the
nervous twitch of his eye revealed his inner turmoil to those who
had served under him for a long time.

“We should at
least say something...” Remy said. She left the words hanging in
the air. It was her way of making Gray do her bidding without it
being too obvious.

Gray nodded,
gathering himself to speak to the three vessels still holding the
line of the blockade. “Open a channel. Let’s honour them with some
words of courage and admiration.”

“Channel is
open, sir,” a communication officer said from the right of the
bridge.

Gray took a
deep breath and then he spoke. His words echoed on the bridges of
the vessels surrounding the Hyperion. The Immortal Terran and her
companions all heard what he was about to say.

“Captains, your
actions today speak volumes of your courage. Your unselfish
sacrifice in a time of New Horizon’s great need will never be
forgotten. My crew have saved every piece of data available to us.
The names of your crew and your vessels will live in our memories
for as long as the Hyperion remains operational. I will personally
write the legend of your deeds in the records of our race. I speak
to everyone still drawing breath and to everyone already waiting in
the afterlife.” Gray paused before continuing. “Bleed these
bastards as much as you can, take as many of them with you as you
can, we will be right here with you until the end.” Another pause
as Gray’s emotions tried to bubble up to the surface, but he held
them down with sheer will. “Thank you.” He could not say any
more.

The Captains of
the other vessels did not respond, the emotional words from a
legendary Captain like Gray was enough to render many of them
speechless. The Captains of the doomed vessels renewed their
barrages against the enemy, Gray’s words fuelling their
bravery.

Soon after
Gray’s heartfelt speech one of the allied cruisers broke apart
under enemy fire. Its name was the Royal Prince, and it had fought
like a cornered lion before succumbing to its wounds. Ripping the
throat from two enemy vessels with its broadsides, claiming a small
victory as it perished, becoming a part of the graveyard around New
Horizon, forever.

The Royal
Prince’s destruction heralded the Immortal Terran’s departure.

Captain Volk’s
voice was sorrowful but carried the strength all good void captains
required. “We have retrieved our last shuttle and we cannot remain
here.”

“Be safe
Captain. Run as far as you can and spread the word of what happened
here today,” Gray replied.

“I will. We
will meet again Captain Willis Gray.” Volk said nothing more. The
Immortal Terran glowed bright as its BEAM drive awoke. It vanished
moments later with a bright flash, its BEAM drive hurling it at a
distant location far away from the dangers around New Horizon.

Gray smiled to
himself. Volk was as crazy as he was, activating her BEAM drive so
close to a planet, or in such close proximity to other vessels. It
was something he would have normally considered doing and he hoped
he would get to meet Amanda Volk in person before either of them
died. Death was something that was quite possible judging by the
current state of things.

“Have we had
contact with Locke or Gunn?” Gray asked Remy.

Remy was
hunched over the command table at the centre of the bridge, her
hands worked furiously to issue orders to the Flying Tigers still
battling in the void, maintaining order in what seemed like chaos
to others. “One short burst from the Maiden. Locke has called for a
retreat. They are executing Protocol Zeta as we speak,” she said
without looking up.

Gray’s jaw
tightened. He was not a Titan but that word - retreat - hit a nerve
with any good military man. Things were very dire indeed if Locke
had called the retreat.

The final chess
pieces were moving into place, and as luck would have it the
enemy’s best piece chose that exact moment to make its grand
entrance.

A bright flash,
larger than normal, brought worth the traitors’ queen.

The Stygian
Council had arrived in all its murderous glory.

Gray saw it
arrive on the scanners on the displays in front of him.
“Checkmate,” he said to himself.

Godwaker fired,
but not as it was intended. Instead of Jay using it as a long range
rifle, he was using it to hip fire into the monsters pouring out of
the door leading to the building below.

Shot after
thundering shot tore holes in the angry horde rushing the Scout
Titan’s position. The head of a mutated monstrosity evaporated,
taking the beast behind with it as well. But there were just too
many, heavy machine gun fire from the Lancers cut down the mutants
as they tried to reach for the delicious human flesh stranded on
the building’s roof.

Jay turned as
his visor picked up a clawed nightmare scurrying over the edge of
the building. It was smarter than the rest, flanking the buffet
instead of taking them head on and dying before it could taste the
inviting feast. Jay’s arms were already numb from hip-firing
Godwaker. It boomed again, the last bullet in its clip destroying
the clawed beast, removing its entire upper body in a spray of
mutated blood.

A Lancer next
to Jay died, his chest pierced by bones shaped like blades,
protruding from the beast’s elongated arms. Jay let go of Godwaker
with one hand, dropping the great weapon’s barrel to the ground. He
reached for the high calibre revolver strapped to his back armour.
Two shots from the revolver killed the bladed beast; another shot
killed a second mutant as it dashed through gun fire towards
him.

Inch by bloody
inch the beasts were gaining ground on the Lancer’s positions. More
died with every passing second, but the dying were trampled and
forgotten under new hungry monsters storming over the dead and
mutilated bodies of their kin. They did not feel for their dead,
never stopping to even process the idea of loss or emotion. They
only wanted to feed, they needed to feed, it was all they knew, and
it was all they wanted to know.

A black-hulled
fighter flew overhead, strafing Jay’s position with machine gun
fire. Two Lancers died, bullets killing them instantly.

Jay had no time
to think on how a bad situation was becoming worse as a second
enemy fighter unleashed molten hell. This pilot was more
experienced than the previous one, hovering just above the edge of
the building, using his fighter’s landing thrusters to keep his
fighter stable. The ropes of bullets killed beast and Lancer alike,
ripping bodies apart with traitorous intent. But the pilot had
forgotten one vital thing when fighting against the Beast. Their
hunger had no end, and they would do anything to feed it, even if
they had to throw all caution into the wind just to taste
flesh.