by Christi Smit
Sam somehow sensed it. He walked over to the table beside the immobile future Titan’s bed, producing a cold water pitcher from the cupboard bellow the table.
Christian just swallowed at the sight of the cold fluid inside the pitcher. His body responded and he instinctively licked his dry lips.
Sam poured the mesmerizing liquid into a container that looked like a child’s drinking cup with twirled straw. He placed the twirled straw between Christian’s lips. “This cup belonged to the daughter of the previous occupant of this room, the young lady never made it past the first surgery. Her heart too weak to handle the trauma caused to her body,” his voice trailed off as a memory resurfaced. “I watched her succumb to her wounds. Give me a bleeding and broken machine and I will fix it without hesitation, but show me a human in pain and I cry like a little girl.”
The cold liquid was nectar from ancient gods, never had machine filtered water taste so good. Usually it tasted like burnt coffee and underpants, but now it was up there with the finest and most delicate wines he had sampled during his younger years.
Even though he was just twenty-nine, he still felt like he had wasted most of his life on meaningless things. The decision to volunteer for the Titan Project was one he had to make, his brother the inspiration, and his own feeling of unworthiness fuelled the courage to go through with it. Wherever his brother was now, he hoped he could make him proud again. He hoped he could prove that he was not just a spoiled brat from a disjointed family. All he wanted was his brother’s approval, just to hear words of encouragement once. His first objective of the mission to become a Titan was complete. He was broken, in almost unbearable agony, but he had survived. And now he was with Chief Engineer Walters, he needed to get on with the next objective.
All of these thoughts raced through his head as he sipped the life-saving liquid with his eyes closed. He opened his eyes and spoke with growing strength as Sam removed the cup’s straw from his lips. “What’s next?”
Sam nodded and lifted his dirty clipboard again. “So eager, let’s see here.” He scanned through a list of names. “Oh, well that’s not very nice,” he looked up and directly at Christian. “It would seem that you are the punch line of some cosmic joke. Your Operator number is QC0021-13. You have been assigned to suit...thirteen.” Sam paused before speaking again. “Well, if you are killed during your first mission you will know why at least.”
Christian let out a slight chuckle at the last remark. “How long?” he asked.
“In about two days your body will have recovered from the surgery. Wonderful little things these Nanites you now have flowing through your system. They can rebuild your tissue and muscles within hours, even help you recover from fatal wounds - should you not be dead by the time they start that is.”
“Only two days?”
“Don’t get too excited just yet cupcake...err I mean Corporal.” He gave Christian a sly grin before continuing. “Please mind my manners, I am use to speaking to machines and ship parts most of the time, and always in curse words.”
Christian’s voice was almost back to normal now, and he could feel the pain subsiding in his hands and feet. “What then?” he asked.
“Then you will go through Syncro training with your suit and then, well then, uhm...” Sam looked uncomfortable as he went quiet. His eyes darted back and forth from Christian’s prone body to the doorway. He hoped someone would enter the room and save him from an explanation.
“What is it, Sam?”
“Well, after all of that you need to train in the Labyrinth,” he said.
“Sound ominous,” Christian tilted his head up as he spoke, his joints not aching as much anymore. “Should I be scared?”
Sam cleared his throat and avoided answering the question. “Uh yes, when you are able to walk again please report to Beta Facility for outfitting. From there Syncro training can begin.”
“Great. Do they have my measurements? I have a deceptively small waist.”
Sam just sniggered and plodded out of the dull room, leaving him with his diminishing pain and his last few hours of peace and quiet.
Chapter One.One
Outfitting
“It made me feel immortal, impossibly strong. But that feeling vanished as soon as you met your first monster.”
-Operator Smith, Vigilance Squad, KIA
Beta Facility looked like any other building on the Titan Project’s compound. There was nothing peculiar about it, from the outside it could have been mistaken for just another habitation block. But that was the masterful deception created by the engineers that designed it. Behind the steel and concrete walls the most advanced, and most deadly, training facility in the galaxy could be found. Deep below the facility level after level of fire ranges and training grounds were built. Dozens of equipment, armouries and control rooms were hidden from prying eyes, all of them housing crews of engineers manufacturing weapons and experimenting with new systems. Beta Facility looked different than Echo Facility, sanitary green and white walls were replaced with bare metal and concrete.
It is in one of these small rooms that Christian found himself. He had entered the room through a keypad locked door, the code and instructions given to him when he was released from Echo Facility. On the opposite wall from the door was a giant mirror, or what was made to look like one, staring back at him. He noticed the gaunt features of his reflection, but he knew the weakness was only temporary as his body healed from the surgeries. The Nano machines had done their job, he was able to move and sit up only hours after Sam had left. His strength returning to levels he never thought possible, he could feel new power and vitality coursing through his veins. The pain from the last few months only a feint shadow in the back of his mind. The walls on either side of the room were bare metal, with thin vertical and horizontal gaps everywhere, criss-crossing each other. The walls looked like a complicated puzzle, pieces overlapping without a clear discernable pattern.
Christian reached out to run his hand over the wall and one of the closest gaps.
“Don’t touch that,” a male voice said from a hidden source. “We need to calibrate it before we can begin.”
“Calibrate what?” Christian asked, walking back to the centre of the room to face the mirror.
“Operator, please be silent.” Light sources were turned on behind the walls as light spilled out through the gaps. Beneath Christian’s feet a round bright light spot lit up. “Step onto the light, Operator.”
Without hesitation he stepped onto the light. As soon as he did a bright-blue radiance swept over him from a hidden recess above the mirror. He was now sure there were people behind the mirror. The light scanned him from head to toe a few times before shutting off and vanishing back into the wall.
“Please do not move Operator. The system will calibrate now, move and you might get torn apart by it.” The voice clicked off, more voices could be heard in the background before the voice was cut off.
A drone started building in the room, slowly rising to an approaching crescendo. The gaps in the walls parted and shifted all around him, revealing more light and unmoving mechanical arms behind the wall panels. Panels started to fold away, parting in places to allow the mechanical arms to extend and rotate outward. He counted at least ten mechanical arms he could see in the mirror. He was so focused on the arms whirring and clicking that he almost didn’t notice the floor fall away, only the platform of light he was standing on was still there. Beneath him more mechanical arms freed themselves; these looked different. The ones from the walls were all equipped with articulating mechanical hands, flexing fingers as they rotated. The arms from the floor had what seemed to be various implements instead of hands, ranging from welders to rotating blades.
“Calibration complete,” the voice confirmed as every mechanical arm froze in place and took up positions surrounding Christian.
“Ready, Operator?”
“Ready,” he said with conviction.
“Do we have to watch this?”
“If we want to see our new squad member in action, then yes, we do have to.” Locke leaned forward to manipulate the display on the wall.
All of the Grim Wolves had gathered in one of the many observation rooms located within Beta Facility. It looked more like an interrogation room than anything else. Furnished by a wobbly table and a few prison chairs. A large monitor was mounted on one of the walls, cycling through different views of an Operator being manhandled by an army of robotic arms. Individually clad in their remarkable and freshly-painted suits, watching the monitor with detached interest. They had come directly from training drills run in the upper levels, ordered by Locke to report to the observation room to evaluate their new recruit.
“I still don’t see why we have to watch this,” Nathan complained again. “I could be killing things instead of procrastinating here.”
Nathan was always on edge, as if he expected an enemy to burst into the room at any moment. Locke silently thanked himself during every mission for the situational awareness his second possessed.
“Complain some more mate, won’t change a thing. Captain might give you latrine duty if you keep moaning like an old woman,” the Titan leaning against the doorframe said. Sergeant Rivers’ ancestral drawl always made him sound angry, but he was probably the most cheerful person in the entire galaxy. His two best attributes being his ability to crack a sarcastic comment or one liner at the right moment, and his skill as a combat field engineer,
Another Titan seated behind Locke shifted in his seat as he laughed. “Wait until you see what I left in the latrines for you before we left, Hyperion’s protein based sludge goes right through me,” he said, tapping Nathan on the shoulder. “You might need to keep your suit on for that one.” Xander was always quick to join in on Rivers’ jokes, even if it was funny or not. His entire suit festooned with belts of rattling explosives, never going anywhere without things that go boom.
“Keep it up,” Nathan said as he turned around to face the last Titan seated against the back wall, nodding at him. “Pyoter is with me on this one.”
“Nyet. Not this time Lieutenant.” Pyoter’s eastern wing of old Earth’s descent clear with every word he spoke. He was the biggest Titan in the entire division, standing almost seven feet tall without his armour. It was an obvious choice to let him handle the squads heavy weapons, his giant frame able to lift and carry almost everything the military had available.
Locke finished fiddling with the display and crossed his arms as he watched the proceedings. “Quiet! Do you see that?” he asked, pointing at the display.
He was smiling. With every piece of equipment the mechanical arms attached to his body his strength grew. His limbs were covered first; mesh suit pieces slid into place over his limbs and then his chest and lower body. The suit pieces were fit to his form and soldered together with Anctinium interlocking hinges. These hinges formed the joints of the protective mesh suit. When the arms retracted only a few minutes had passed, he was now almost completely covered by the Titan suit’s under layer. Only his face and the interface plugs in his limbs and spine were visible.
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.
