Gamma Nine (Book One) (6 page)

The Anctinium
had an alien black tint, almost matte save for the light consuming
texture it possessed. It looked like raw carbon, but was as smooth
as polished silver. It was a strange combination when touched or
seen, yet it was diamond hard and a hundred times rarer than those
precious stones.

Christian had
only a few moments to comprehend the strange suit he was now
covered in before the next phase of outfitting started.

“Operator, the
outer layer of your suit will now be attached, we urge you to
remain still,” the voice said from behind the mirror. “The
Anctinium pieces are bare for now; your leader will instruct you on
squad designation and markings once you have completed your
trials.”

Christian
nodded and closed his eyes, still smiling as the robotic army of
arms resumed their mindless work. Arms with attached hands produced
pieces of armour plating, silently placing them on his limbs and
front, leaving his back open, each piece matching small slots
located in the under layer. Each piece connecting to the exposed
interface ports with a muffled click. The other arms, with their
assortment of tools, went to work attaching every piece. Cutting
and bonding the two layers together.

He was tilted
forward, face down hovering over the machines that controlled the
mechanical arms. From the roof his back plate was lowered down,
attached to it was a multitude of cables and tubes. The back plate
contained the most vital, and the most dangerous, piece of
equipment a Titan took into battle.

Mounted behind
the thickest Anctinium plating, within the back plate, was a
miniature nuclear-plasma reactor able to power a suit for years
without needing a recharge. The power of a sun as big as a human
fist strapped to the back of every Titan. If it was ever breached
the resulting reaction from the breach would cause a devastating
eruption able to level entire cities. It was no surprise to anyone
that these volatile power sources were kept under lock and key deep
within Beta Facility, away from any unauthorized personnel not
assigned to handle one of them.

Christian felt
the back plate sliding into place, it locked itself to the
interface ports in his back, hissing as it expended trapped air
between itself and the under layer. Every part of his under layer
was covered by armour plating all the way up to his neck. The outer
armour moved with the under layer, fully articulated making it feel
like he was wearing a second skin. He was lowered to the light spot
he had stood in earlier.

“Phase two is
done, please test all movement angles before your helmet is
assigned and your suit systems brought online.” The voice left the
channel open after it spoke, obviously waiting for Christian to
comply, the background noise now nothing more than a murmur of
machines and voices.

Christian
bounced on each leg a few times, rolling his shoulders before he
extended his arms at his sides. He flexed his muscles and the suit
responded to every movement he made. He noticed how light the suit
was, almost as if it was made out of feathers instead of some
prized metal. The thought never crossed his mind that it was not
the metal that was light, but instead his strength had grown far
beyond any normal human’s capabilities. He lowered his hands after
staring at them for a few seconds and focused on the mirror
again.

A pedestal rose
from the open floor, mounted on top of it was his helmet, unpainted
and bare metal but still fearsome in its appearance. Its visor, the
same mirrored finish as the one in the room he was in, the helmet’s
base was formed from one solid piece of Anctinium. The half-face
visor edged backwards at the sides to allow for a greater degree of
visibility. The mouth, cheek and chin pieces protruding slightly
outward to give it a more angular appearance. A thin Anctinium sun
shield attached above the visor sloped down at the sides to protect
an Operator’s peripheral vision. Detachable ear pieces completed
the angular but simplistic look of the helmet. It wasn’t pretty,
but it was effective. It could stop a high calibre bullet at close
range and still function, and most importantly keep the Operator
alive. At the back of the helmet was a rounded but angular-edged
plate, fitted from behind and attached to the sun shield and ear
pieces. It covered the entire brain area of an Operator with an
extra layer of protection.

He picked up
the helmet without hesitation and slid it over his head, a rotating
seal bonded with the mesh under layer with a click and a hiss of
escaping air.

It was dark
inside the helmet, silent and strangely calming. He raised his hand
and gave the hidden people behind the mirror a thumbs-up.

A burst of
crackling static filled Christian’s ears in the darkness of the
helmet, his ears ringing from the sudden sound.

“Suit systems
are coming online. Acknowledged?” a female voice said in his
ears.

“Acknowledged,”
he replied. “I hear you.”

“Visor display
online Operator. Please confirm visual systems are
functioning.”

His visor
became transparent and vital suit information scrolled past his
eyes. “Visuals confirmed. Suit diagnostics are booting up.”

“Suit OS
reports zero errors. Vision mode voice command cycling will start
in five seconds.”

Christian
patiently counted down the seconds. His suit finished scrolling
through the diagnostic program. It now waited for his voice
commands. “Dark sight,” he said as his visor changed blue-green,
easily illuminating darker areas in the room. “Reap sight.” His
visor switched colours again, a stark red hue the colour of a
sunrise made his eyes tear up. Reticules scanned everything in the
room, searching for targets to highlight. “Tactical sight.” His
visor went clear, this mode was the standard mode used during
missions. More reticules appeared and scanned every piece of
equipment in the room; detailed information about every piece of
machine could be requested with a voice command and displayed in
the corners of his visor. Tactical sight could connect to other
suits in a squad and display their vital signs, vision feeds and
more.

“Very good
Operator, the last vision mode can’t be tested here. Please test it
during the final phase,” the female voice said in his ears
again.

Christian
wanted to reply but the link went dead before he could, the
mirrored wall in front of him rumbled and disengaged itself from
the connecting walls. It moved up and out of view, he followed it
before his eyes settled on what was ahead of him. The ground
beneath him moved and linked up, forming a bridge of light for him
to walk on. There was no going back now, he could only go forward.
The gap left by the mirrored control room was filled by walls from
both sides. The roof and ground pieces were the last to grind into
place. He faced a long corridor with a door leading to his final
trial, his tactical vision mode scanned the door and revealed it to
be unlocked and made out of solid steel.

He stepped
forward, walking at a slow pace towards the door. It felt strange
to walk, he felt so powerful, so immortal. Careful, he thought,
don’t get arrogant.

Step after step
he took, his mind wandering as he headed for the door. The final
trail to come was to be his ultimate test. He had come too far to
fail on this final step. He could not afford to stumble now.
Everything he had suffered through and everything he had done to
get here, he was determined to succeed. He silently hoped he was
watching.

Christian
finally reached the door, taking a deep breath as he turned the
handle to open it.

Now or never,
he thought, stepping into a new room.

“
The Titans called it the Labyrinth.
Only they could enter, and only they could come out alive on the
other side. Rumours about the creator being a madman was common in
the halls and corridors of Beta Facility. His creation was a
merciless gauntlet of ever-shifting walls and traps with the sole
purpose of pushing every Titan to its very limit. It succeeded in
every possible way.”
-Anonymous, Beta Facility, New Horizon

The room was
shrouded in darkness, a darkness the tactical vision could not
penetrate. As soon as he had entered the room he heard the door
lock behind him, there was definitely no going back now. He still
had to get accustomed to the ease of movement he felt inside his
new suit. Some steps were unreal at first, the feeling of
detachment ever present, as if he was controlling a robotic version
of himself.

He spoke the
words to activate his dark sight, bathing the entire room in a
blue-green hue. Shadows retreated back from him, leaving no hiding
spots behind. His new mode revealed a flat slab of concrete in the
middle of the room and another door across from him. On top of the
slab were three items, items he recognized from training manuals
and stories told by veteran soldiers during his basic training.
Items specifically designed for the Titan Project.

The first item
was an automatic rifle, a short stock and short barrel variant
based on old Earth’s Bullpup design. It was only a little longer
than his lower arm. Its official designation was the BM-40 but
Operators referred to it as the Kicker, possibly due to the fact
that its recoil on full auto kicked like a Morkhal - New Horizon’s
equivalent to Earth’s horse. There were no attachments on this one,
no Nova grenade cannon, not even an aiming modification of any
kind. Christian lifted the rifle, checked its magazine and
shouldered it to look through the stock iron sights. He was
surprised to find it easy to aim down the sights. He had thought
the bulky helmet would require an Operator to compensate for the
offset, but instead the helmet, shoulder, chest and arm plating
made the rifle fit perfectly for maximum accuracy. He moved the
rifle over his left shoulder and it automatically clipped itself
via magnetic clamps to the left side of his back plate. His hand on
the grip would automatically release the rifle should it be needed.
Four extra magazines were supplied, clipping them to his magnetized
belt plating as he picked up the next item.

Next to the
rifle was his combat blade, a basic weapon only used when there
were no more bullets or the Beast wanted to get up close and
personal. Melee specialized Titans carried better versions with
broader and longer blades. The basic version was as long as his
thigh, and made from an amalgamation of metals to increase
durability and maintain its razor-sharp edge. Two horizontal clamps
in the small of his back accepted the weapon with another click,
its mechanism the same as the one housing the rifle.

The final
item’s outer layer was made from Anctinium, its inner layer from a
glassy crystal substance, in the middle a rotating mechanism with a
hand grip at the end moved as he tilted it. The small clips on the
outside plating of his forearms matched the accepting clips inside
the mechanism. It was oval-shaped like an ancient shield with the
longer sides edged flat. Nearly the size of his torso, this was the
only thing between him and certain death should he ever be put on
the back foot. It also added extra protection to his precious back
plate and all of its attachments. He tested it by clipping it to
his arm and holding it as it should be used in combat. The Anvil
shield made him feel safe, able to stop a rushing horde of enemies
in its tracks. He nodded to himself; it was his favourite out of
the three items. It played more to his defensive nature, rather
than wading in balls first like a fool. He unclipped it from his
arm and held it over his right shoulder. A small magnetic arm
detached itself from the middle of the back plate to secure it. It
fit over his weapons without a problem.

Just as he felt
the shield lock into place a voice spoke to him over the radio in
his ear pieces.

“The shield is
my favourite as well, that one is special, one of a kind,” Sam
said, it sounded like he was eating something.

Another
crunching sound filled Christian’s ears. The sound of Sam’s
devouring started to grate on his nerves.

“A few things
to know about what’s through the last door Corporal Quinn. First,
be on your guard at all times,” Sam said through a mouthful of what
sounded like gravel being crushed underfoot. “Second, there are
live enemies on the other side, from here on out you are weapons
free, shoot to kill or be killed.”

Christian knew
the weapons were for something, but he had no idea there were live
targets inside. “What is the classification of the enemies in
there?”

“Beast, Mutated
human variants of different shapes and sizes. Nothing you can’t
handle.” Sam went silent. “Hopefully,” he added after a few
moments.

“Your faith
fills me with rainbows and moonbeams, Sam.”

“Of course it
does. What else would it fill you with?”

Christian
decided to recheck his weapons just in case. He unsheathed his
blade, checking its edge before sliding it back into waiting
clamps. He unclipped his Kicker and checked the sight again,
checking if each extra clip was magnetically locked to his belt as
he replaced the rifle over his shoulder. He didn’t need to check
his shield, Sam’s comment made him confident that it would work as
intended, perhaps better than intended.

Christian
flexed his hands and balled them into fist. “Ready. Open it,” he
said to Sam over the radio.

A different
voice answered him. “Corporal Quinn. Your task is simple, find the
exit and don’t die while doing it.”

“Who is this?”
Christian enquired.

“Captain Locke,
Operator.”

“Sir, I...It’s
an honour.” Christian was shocked. The leader of the Wolves was
here watching his trials.

“Brown nosing
will only work if you survive this day. You have twenty-four hours
to complete your final trial. If you take longer, we will presume
you are dead and send in the cleaners.”