Chapter 1 Craze

2 Years Earlier—

The stolen Solcruean LightBlade ship overhead redlines its thrusters. Hope and energy surge through me. It's been retrofitted by human rebels and is now piloted by one of our few CyberTitan sisters, Poppy. It lugs several hundred of my metal Brothers out of the burning prison work camp on Hyperion.

Until Poppy arrived, we had thought this was the end. We lost the war, lost our chance at earning mates from the Creators and freedom.

The hibernation chambers housing myself and all of my Brothers glow green, initiating their sleep cycles. But I am immune to the program like I am the punishment protocols meant to keep us in line. For once, I'm glad I am broken.

Our escape has not gone unnoticed by the enemy.

Explosions rip through the camp below us. Flames lick my chamber, heating the glass until it is stifling inside. Gunfire lances through the sky in an exchange from the LightBlade and the scaly bastards in charge of housing us while we sorted the parts of our long gone Brothers and Sisters collected from space, decommissioning us at their whim.

Warden Tav is the kind of egotistical prick that I'd expect would suck his own dick if he could reach it. He won't let us go without a damn good fight.

We hang like hundreds of crystals from gravity beam threads that light up the sky between us and the ship. Many Titans slump as the hibernation programming takes control. Hibernation is useful for safe transport of the most dangerous of our kind. But we still talk because we never truly sleep.

AmpLocal: Enemy ships inbound. Brace for impact.

When Amp's communication comes through, I peer past rows of clustered cells like mine, at the emissary's LightBlade cruiser he and Poppy are in. Menace, Rebel, and Diesel are with them, as well as a soft-body female named Cara. I hope they have the firepower for this level of defense.

The light of the portal shines beyond their ship, highlighting them like the angels my last human commander once spoke of. I am certain they are the best of us. I wish I was worthy of standing among them.

I would die for my Brothers and Sisters. If anyone has to, it should be me.

Turbo spins in his chamber, just above mine. He stops, looks up, and then spins again in excitement. His pace gradually slows as the hibernation programming takes a hold.

TurboLocal: if we get out of here, do you think we will find females where we land?

He is one of the horniest Titans I know.

CrazeTurbo: Focus on escaping in one piece first, soldier. No females want a hunk of junk with a mangled cock. Besides, we need ships, weapons, and to win this war first.

TurboCraze: I know. I know. I know!

His speed of operation reminds me of what it was like to be a fresh unit. Except he's been in operation for a long time and hasn't changed.

I've worked hard to focus, think, plan. We have to if we want to outmaneuver the enemy. But many of us are not designed for intricate things. My Relic brothers are the most primal of all the CyberTitan generations. The Rogues escaped. And none of us have seen a CyberGuard in ages, but they are the fewest in number of us.

Solcrue want to keep all of us CyberTitans and our human ancestors, under their thumb. They want to be in control and do everything they can to make our deaths as slow and agonizing as possible.

I have feared the worst of our Creators' kind for years. Now, I know there are still humans out there.

They have not forgotten us.

The rebellion sent two females to save us.

My conviction to defy the enemy grows.

BoomerLocal: The moment we are free, I'm putting together a munitions team. Anyone want to join? I'm thinking of atomizing them.

Solcrue and humans cannot hear Titan chatter on our private channel. It is one of our only advantages, real-time updates without verbal communication, even when we are caged and under threat of coilgun deaths. The Solcrue never figured out how we work.

AmpLocal: Cara says the rebellion is alive and fighting, though few members remain. We must return to battle. Most have been taken as servants. Few human males have survived, and if they are not rebels, they are our enemy. It is up to us to find and protect what remains of humanity—if we make it through this.

I'm not sure if I understand him right. But it is Tumble who asks. I cannot see him in the cluster, but his signal registers further up in our group.

TumbleLocal: Do you mean the human females are—captured?

AmpLocal: Most of them, A-firm.

Titan chatter quiets. A deep rooted anger ignites in me. Tension spreads through us so thick I worry it might shatter our delicate chambers.

The stars become visible as Hyperion slips away. It makes sense that if we were captured, humans likely were too. But the females? Why did it have to be them? Most were not in battle.

AmpLocal: Cara, the one who broke us out, is now my mate. She and her rebels sacrificed a lot to take this chance on us. Let us return the favor to our Creators.

DrillbitLocal: Just tell us what you need. I'll punch us a path to the supplies—or some holes in Solcrue ships. Just give me the command!

Amp's words get a mix of battle cries and questions over our network. I can hear their conversations in my mind as clearly as the crash of another cell against mine.

I block it all out.

A mate? And human? The notion that human females might accept us stirs a hunger in me that I struggle to tamp down. Few Titans are female. Even fewer survived the wars. We all hoped for mates, but knew we would not all get one when we lost the war after the Creators' facilities were destroyed on Titan.

BoomerLocal: She's a half-breed—human and the enemy! How can we trust her?

PoppyLocal: Holy shit, can you boys all shut up about mates for five fucking minutes? We aren't free of Hyperion yet!

SavageLocal: Diesel says she is Mother Besha's daughter, a Creator's daughter! You'd be wise to mind her if we make it out of here! Now focus, soldiers.

An array of double clicks fills my headspace. I join my brothers in confirming my compliance.

I do not falter. Nor do Redline—who's always sprinting and easily distracted—or Chaos—who is three titans in one. They're the Brothers who have the closest skill sets to mine. Hibernation doesn't work on us. So we have to lead when the others succumb to the cells' programming.

RedlineLocal: Emergency Rescue programs! Start them before your body shuts down!

ChaosLocal: We're either landing or crashing. Either way, pull up Evasion programs in case they're on our asses when we're through the portal.

CrazeLocal: Set Burst Power to initiate upon waking. There's no telling what's on the other side of the portal. We need to be ready.

I initiate the ER program, and wager most of my Brothers have already done the same. But it's been a long time since we were last in the heat of battle. It's good to have the reminders. We all have a bit of rust to shake off.

Emergency Rescue: program loading—

Evasion: Ready.

I've been in evasion mode since I heard the first blast from Poppy's ship as she blew holes in the plant so we could escape. And I'm always in Burst Power mode.

I stand in my chamber like the others, ultromotor racing in my chest as I scan my Brothers looking for a close friend. Cobra was on my sorting team but has vanished in the mayhem of fragmenting metal walls and flying debris. I'm wedged among four on the outside of our massive cluster, beneath the majority of the group.

CrazeCobra: Status.

When he doesn't respond, I reach out to the others.

CrazeLocal: Can anyone see Cobra? Did we leave him behind?

CobraCraze: Loaded. By Holo, Thruster, Fury, and Shifter.

I look up and see Holo peering down at us, eyes bright as they record everything. I send a double-click back in confirmation, relieved my friend is with us.

Macabre squirms, drawing my attention to him. He's an inky stealth unit like Menace and Morbid and glares red daggers at me even though he's getting woozy. I can see it in his posture. He won't speak. His harrowing stare says enough. Stealth models never cope well with hibernation.

Beside him is Axe, who has steadied himself in the chamber and fights the tug of sleep. I hear his indirect thoughts over the local network. I can't fucking move or I'm going to shatter my cell! Every part of me is designed to break shit like this!

Axe's edgy body tenses. He slaps himself in the face, trying to stay awake.

RamBash is banging around in his chamber to Axe's other side. It's a physics thing with him. He gets bouncing off things and momentum makes it hard to stop. He blurs, stops himself, and brace his hands to either side of his cell. He grimaces. Hibernation reverberation is the worst. It's giving me a headache. I want out!

I do, too. But I don't tend to over think things. I react when threats are imminent, when situations ask for it.

The ground falls away from us as the stars become clearer. Below us is the compound that held us captive for years. It is a metal prison tarnishing the beautiful natural terraformed surface of Hyperion. But as much as I hate the cell, I want to get as far away from this place as possible.

Tangle is in knots beside RamBash as pieces of him rotate and reposition with his frantic look out of each glass panel. He's like a gold puzzle that keeps folding in on itself and taking shape in a new place, like Shifter.

A Skysprinter rips toward us from the plant below, trailing steam behind its full-throttle thrusters.

Brothers shift and chatter lethargically around us. Defensive programs run, but I quiet them and assess my ability to engage. By the thickness of my cell, I think I can breakout.

CrazeCommander Savage: Request to break formation. Skysprinters on approach.

SavageCraze: Stand down. Leave the fighting to Amp's team.

ThrusterLocal: I can't rocket out. I'm boxed in by Brothers.

SavageLocal: Do not risk breaking Brothers' cells to fight back! Amp, you're on your own.

Amp clicks back.

I'm not good at remaining still when danger approaches. My entire being is designed to thrive in action. I want to fight with an urge that borders on insanity. Making myself stay put is like holding back from scratching a maddening itch that consumes my body.

A bright light behind Tangle makes me brace myself in my cell.

CrazeLocal: Incoming!

My Brothers turn to look as a missile slices through the sky, heading for us. The blaze severs the gravity beams holding up several cells. I watch it raze my hope along with theirs.

Momentum eases.

My hibernation chamber floats with several others for a moment before Hyperion's lower gravity grabs us. There's nothing I can do to stay with Amp and the LightBlade.

Our cells become caskets.

I count the brothers who fall with me: Tangle, Macabre, Axe, and RamBash.

Macabre growls, regaining strength as our chambers' hibernation capabilities are cut off from power.

Amp relays to us the sound of a woman crying out as we fall. The one he calls Cara, the half-breed, his mate, is broken that we are lost.

Memories and hopes flash through my mind as the real possibility of the Black Death sinks in.

I wanted a mate like her. I worked hard for one. Traitorous soldiers, humans meant to ensure our compliance, turned on us all in the end. They set us up, hunted us. Our chances of winning were slim with them on our side. When they betrayed us, they doomed us.

Cyborg Submission Patrol must burn.

One day, they will. But someone else might have to do it now.

I still hope we operate long enough to get our revenge and also to meet Cara one day. I want to thank her for caring. It has been a long time since it felt like anyone gave a damn.

As the moon draws us closer, my reactionary system comes online. Commander Savage's orders to stay put are replaced by self-preservation programs.

We have to break out. We will be lost if we don't act fast.

I brace myself in my cell and slam a fist against the glass. The hit sends pressure through my right fist and arm, up to my shoulder. I ignore the pain. It will pass. My nanosolution acknowledges the damage and surges to my arm, repairing and bolstering it for the next hit.

The glass cracks.

Axe's arms form blades, and he pierces his chamber first. But he's too far away to free the others as gravity and momentum scatter us like seeds in wind.

RamBash ping-pongs around until his chamber shatters, but his movement launches him away from our group as well.

Tangle is stuck. He isn't built for this. Neither is Macabre, though he wedges himself in a corner and pushes with his feet. They don't have the speed or power necessary to break out.

My brothers are in trouble.

My ultro surges, and I pummel my chamber until I've got a hole. I rip the tempered glass out of my way and climb out into the thunderous wind, ignoring the searing scrapes of glass over my synthflesh.

Tangle is closest and least likely to survive a crash in a box. I leap to his chamber, find the door mechanism and reef it open.

CrazeTangle: See you below, brother. Tuck and roll.

Tangle gives me a wild-eyed look, his short dark hair and threadbare uniform rippling in the wake of our descent. You're crazy!

Just Craze! No eee! I reply.

I leap back to my old unit and toward Macabre's as Tangle jumps. Macabre's door is jammed, and we're nearing the ground.

Get back! I shout over our network.

He leans against the far side as I beat in the door until it fractures. Then I steady myself on the frame and reach a hand inside. When he grabs on, I tear him through.

When he's free, I see a fifth cell.

Shit.

It's an impulse to rush to my brother, even though I know I'm going to be too late. The ETA to impact flashes red in my mind. There isn't enough time.

Still, I push off of Macabre's chamber and collide with the last. I try the door. The latch breaks off.

Gah! Come on!

Impact ETA: Ten. Nine—

I grab the chamber and slam my fist into the glass again and again, pushing the limits of my force and what my nanos can repair. Synthflesh shreds.

I don't want my brother to die.

I don't want him to be alone.

I don't want to lose anyone else on my team on any mission ever again.

Six. Five—

My brother speaks to me as I fight for him.

RangerCraze: Just dig out my core! Don't let them have it! Jump, Craze! Jump!

I'm not leaving you!

Two—

Reverence fills his gold eyes, made of the same metals as Tangle's body. We are all Brothers with similar parts. To let go is to leave a piece of ourselves behind with every lost Titan.

One—

The glass of his chamber is cold and solid beneath my hands. He is alive and with me for one final breath. Then he slams himself against the far side of his chamber and launches it away from me.

Ranger! I scramble in the air, trying to reach him.

The ultromotor in my chest stutters.

It's designed into us to accept sacrifice but also to fight for our brothers to the death.

My nanosolution rushes into my legs until they feel afire and made of solid titanium. The self-preservation programs adjust my body for impact. I will survive, but at least one of us is lost.

I am tired of outliving my brothers.

Our hope was a fleeting breath.

Guilt is my crushing force.

Vengeance is all I think of now.