Chapter 5 Craze

I cruise through the tunnels until Axe's signal grows stronger. Setting the hoverdrone down in a spore room, I request Axe and RamBash move away from the wall.

AxeCraze: Clear and under cover.

Using the drone's manual-mode guns, I shoot a hole in the tunnel wall. Rock crumbles and an opening appears in the settling dust.

I get down and hike through the mess of rubble. Axe and RamBash hobble toward me.

You two look like shit, I blurt. But at least you made it.

Axe's hands soften from blades into fingers again. We are operational and united. That's what matters.

After helping them through the hole and onto the platform, I lift us up again and steer our stolen hoverdrone through the tunnels.

My three injured brothers work on repairing Tangle while I guide us into a long passageway that will take us to the far side of the moon from the plant. That will work for now. But we will need to salvage soon.

"Ranger's gone?" Axe asks in disbelief.

CrazeLocal: I don't know for sure. Severely damaged. Shutdown on impact. I'll inspect him when we stop.

"It's not your fault," RamBash says beside me. I'm surprised he's injured from the fall based on the type of unit he is.

And it is my fault.

I wasn't fast enough, again. I was supposed to be the one that broke the unbreakable, not the one who left my team to die behind me because I couldn't slow down. Guilt is a fierce storm that tightens my hands on the controls until the metal warps.

CrazeRamBash: He pushed away from me at the last second. I did what I could.

"Craze. We can hear the doubt in your mind." Axe rests a hand atop my shoulder. Few can be touched by him. My shoulder buzzes with nanosolution and the hum of reinforcement as his bladed fingers sink in. It sears my synthflesh, but I do not shake him off because I know he needs contact just like any of the rest of us. "You saved Macabre and Tangle. That's not nothing."

If I had the proper foresight, I could've saved Ranger by spending less time with the first two. I just can't think that far ahead.

CrazeTangle: Status?

"I'm up." He coughs and spits. "Now I know why you all said Solcrue rations tasted like mud. I'd give anything for a gilkyworm crisp. I'm starving."

As we skirt a corner into a cavern, I notice movement in the shadows. Something primal in me kicks on.

We need food, armor, weapons.

CrazeAxe: Pilot.

He takes over as I jump off the drone.

TangleLocal: What is he doing?

MacabreLocal: Damned berserker just plows through with no plan. Zero hesitation or reconsideration.

Ignoring them, I tackle the creature. It's nearly my size, covered in wiry fur and has a horned head that thrashes around. It struggles beneath me as I wrestle it to the ground.

I snap its neck so it has a quick death. I may be a tornado in battle, but I am not without mercy when I have a moment to consider it. After a deep breath, I lug the creature up and over a shoulder by its horns and haul it into the center of the adjacent cavern.

Axe sets the drone down and helps our brothers offload as I search the area for something we can burn while patrolling for other animals. When we're clear, I pull some dead roots from the cavern walls and pile them up then drop the carcass beside it. Using a hot hoverpad, I light a root and get a fire going.

I don't tell my Brothers about Pellucid. They're a ghost I'm uncertain is real. It was a fleeting interaction, but I can't stop thinking about them, wondering where they are and if they need help. My concern is that my Brothers will consider me damaged and try to prevent me from doing what they need me to in order to survive this Solcrue-infested moon.

Tangle limps over and sits with RamBash, looking shocked. "I didn't mean right now."

CrazeLocal: I know, and I don't. It's just a reaction.

Axe calmly explains for me. We served in the same squadron for years before the plant. If any Titan remembers me, it's him. "If you express a need, Craze must fill it. He was Level 0 infantry, initial assault. They dropped him into battle with his teams with little to no information."

"Why don't you talk much?" Tangle asks. We haven't really worked together, but I've observed him like everyone over the last few years of standing at the benches sorting body parts of our brothers for the parts the Solcrue wanted. He's a younger model Relic that wasn't in service for as long as some of the rest of us.

"No sensor arrays down here," Macabre offers as he pulls out a knife to skin the animal. He pauses. "Stars, what is this? A mutant wolf?"

I shrug. Either we eat it or it eats us. Do you prefer the latter?

The group is quiet. Their weariness is visible in the way they slump. But it is the hopelessness in their eyes, the dejection I figure is from being left behind, that eats at me most. Our freedom was short lived.

Tangle is the one who says the one thing I've always wondered myself. "How have you not died from not thinking things through?"

"Bro." RamBash scowls at him beneath hooded deep violet eyes. "We've all lost teammates. How are any of us still here? It's luck, skill, or engineered talent."

"Special nanoserum." I shake my head and squat in the radiating heat of the fire, trying to warm the coldest parts of my ultromotor.

"I meant—" Tangle taps his head. "I'm really struggling. We're free of the jail, but I'm badly broken with no way to fix myself. I wish we had a ship. I could at least work on repairs if we had some tools."

RamBash twists Tangles leg back into position and does his best to reconnect what he can. "We need some serious nanoclean for you. I don't envy the grit in your gears."

Axe adds more roots to the fire then hugs his knees. The orange light from his digibadge is buried beneath a streak of mud. "Tell, them how you survived, Craze."

I stoke the fire then lift an arm with almost no synthflesh left. It burns like I've stuck it in the fire. "The mission comes first. You have to ignore this kind of shit."

"Blocking it out with programming isn't working for me," RamBash says.

The place I go in my mind when I'm in Burst Power mode isn't one that most want to go. "I'd laugh when I'd mangle some part of me because it helped me through the pain. You have to decide if you want to be miserable or happy. I want to be happy, so I choose to find ways to like pain—the curious way it spreads through me like how I can feel the burn of the flames on my fingers in my shoulder."

"Pain tells us of damage so we can fix it or protect it," RamBash says. "To ignore it is—"

"Crazy?" I ask.

He chews a cheek and looks away.

"It's okay," I tell them. "I was almost barred from service." I rub my face and try to quell the storm of urgent survival needs that batter me for attention.

We are alone now against the Solcrue. Instead of hundreds of Titans, we are rendered down to a damaged team of five and one deadweight. "I was only allowed in because my rapid repair nanosolution needed field testing. And they were desperate to meet cyborg soldier quotas.

"I am not a planner, so I'm not a leader. I have outlived all Titan Brothers of forty-six infiltration teams. The human numbers are far higher."

Even Axe, who's been in operation as long as I have stills. "You were the last on every one?"

I nod. "That's why they stopped bonding me to teams and just made me a solo infiltration unit. I'll get in there, but it's best if I do it alone. It's also why I don't speak like this. It's too personal now. Too—human."

"Emotional," Macabre solemnly offers. He spears the animal and props it up over the fire to cook. "Well, I say, fuck it. All rules are off. We're it on this blasted rock. Everyone just be yourselves. Let's find a way to take out the enemy and get a ride to Ellipsis, whatever it takes."

"Ellipsis?" I ask.

"Menace told me just before they went through the portal," Macabre admits with a waggle of his dark brows. "Us stealths have a super secret channel. And stars help me, Craze. I need someone else with a fucked-up sense of humor so I don't lose my mind without a stealth brother to chat with."

I smile and hang my head.

"No bottling shit up," Macabre adds with a finger pointed to each of us. "Normally, I'd do that myself because it's good fuel. But we need total transparency. It is the only way we can survive. We must know each others' weaknesses and strengths and use them at all times."

"Fresh start," Axe offers.

"From a different kind of prison?" Tangle quietly asks, picking grass and rocks out of his injuries.

RamBash runs a hand through his short brown hair, freeing it of debris. "We don't have a chance."

I press the synthflesh I can back into place on my arms. It softens and melds with my stirring nanosolution. "You can give up. Stay down here forever. Make this your home if you want. But I refuse to let the Solcrue win. They don't deserve what they have taken from us and from the humans.

"I don't want to find excuses to give up. I want the power to prevail and turn everyone of those snakes into my next meal. Cara deserves to be honored for fighting for us. And—" Now that I'm warmed up and certain my brothers will be safe for the night, I get up and climb back on the drone.

"I am often quiet because I am replaying the faces of those we lost. I let them remind me of why I must stay my course for vengeance. I want the Solcrue to know the reason they die is because of what they did to us." I make firm eye-contact with Tangle and RamBash. "Think about who you've lost and what they'd want to do if they had a second chance. Make it happen."

"Where are you going?" Axe asks.

"I just focus on one need at a time. We need supplies. That is my next mission. I don't need a plan to follow programming. We're all going to be essential for this rebellion to be effective. I will bring back what I can."

AxeCraze: Don't get caught. We're in no shape to come for you.

CrazeAxe: Copy.

Guiding the hoverdrone through the tunnels, I find a gradual ascent shaft it can handle and rise back up to the moon's surface.

The distant sky exposes the Skysprinters still near the portal and another ship hovering close by, one I hadn't noticed before. It's not a typical Solcrue battleship.

My scanners expose a heavy array of sensors, communications ports, and a lot of windows.

Few guns. Research?

I shake my head and refocus on the salvage mission. The valley below shows debris of the two destroyed Skysprinters Cara and Diesel are responsible for.

Time to dig through them is limited. The Solcrue will soon come to do the same.

I thrust the hoverdrone toward the closest debris field as fast as it will go. As I race down the hills and into the valley, I pull up every recording I can from Brothers who have salvaged vessels like these.

My experiences are mostly limited to hand-to-hand combat. But I am adaptable. I just need to know what to pull beforehand so I don't waste any time assessing things while I'm there.

I scan the flaming wreckage and find parts that match what I see in my saved recordings. The drone's claws come in handy for a large container which I fill with everything from gun and engine parts, chip cards, wiring, charred medical kits, and any rations and armor I determine are mostly functional.

A bullet rips by me. I twist away and feel the heat scorch a line across my chest. Grabbing the closest thing I can, I throw it in the direction the shot originated.

The jagged piece of Skysprinter frame lands so hard in the Solcrue pilot's chest, that it partially buries his body in the dirt. A translucent green body shield flickers off.

I'm out of time. He likely relayed a signal that he found a Titan.

Solcrue don't usually survive such hard landings from space, especially if Titans struggle. But the body shield makes me wonder what other advancements they might be making.

As I pry one final crate of supplies out of a contorted chunk of cabinetry, I see a unique red glow out in the field that piques my curiosity. With one last stop on my mind, I load the crate and guide the hoverdrone over to the steady light. I set down beside it and dismount.

At my feet is a zembi, a flaming sword, an ancient weapon of the Creators before they made us. I gingerly pick it up. I have not held one in many years. The red metal ignites with raging fire. It won't flame-up for Solcrue, so holding one is like finding lost hope.

Proximity Alert.

I look up to see a rocket skimming the moon's surface, headed straight for me and my wreckage-loaded hoverdrone.

My nerves burn, urging me to flee. But I'm tired of running. I'm tired of losing, of living while my Brothers suffer and die. They need the parts I've found. And I'm going to get them to my Brothers.

Time to see if you're still up to the task.

Targeting systems light up in my eyes among red alerts of impending damage. I charge the rocket, kick up a piece of Skysprinter hull as I run, and brace it in front of me.

Impact ETA: Two, One—

My ultro races. Nanos rush into my arms, feeling like thousands of little hornets.

The blast impacts my shield and throws me back. Air rushes from my lungs. The metal turns red hot, scorching my fingers. I drop it as I slide to a stop and bump into the hoverdrone at my back. But we're both still intact.

Bullets lance the air. I frantically climb onto the drone and guide it away from the wreckage. I empty the hoverdrone's guns' limited ammo on the enemy behind me until it is gone.

Click. Click. Click.

I should've saved some ammo!

My hindsight is perfect. It always is.

I just can't figure out how to think ahead. I'm an opportunist to a fault, but I also don't think the Creators designed me to be broken. I just haven't figured myself out yet.

A sputtering engine lies among the fiery trail of debris as I retreat.

If I can cut off the thermal siphon, it should take off. That's something at least!

As I pass, I bank hard, steady the zembi in my hand, lean over, and slash the unit free from the end. The engine throws sparks, ignites, and launches toward my enemy.

The Solcrue's ground assault Tacticat blows.

My triumph is momentary as a pair of hoverdrones cuts through the fire, chasing after me.

A bullet I wasn't ready for sears my shoulder.

I curl forward and glance at the wound. It heals slowly.

Soaking in the pain, lingering in it, and savoring the rush of my spooling ultro now feeding my body, I collect the handgun I've salvaged and point it behind me. "Hey, dingle berries! What the fuck did you cut your teeth on? Pansies?"

The Solcrue on the drones glare at me as I fire. I manage to take them out, only to find three more Tacticats racing after us.

Shit. I should've stayed and ate with my brothers. But time to salvage was limited. Now the enemy's hot on my tail.

I skirt the hills, heading away from my brothers. Behind me, hoverdrones stay on an intercept course. It's what I hoped for. I may be damaged and hungry, but I'm also armed now and angry.

That's it, you fuckers. Leave my Brothers alone. Just come and try to get me.

There's a perfect kill box in the approaching rocks, so I aim for it.

I'm not afraid of dying alone. I deserve it for as many Titans as I've outlived. But I'm damn sure going to balance the scorecard first.

An image transmission flashes in my eyes—a view of Hyperion's surface and a hoverdrone fleeing two others.

Cold wind whips around me as I look up at the only possible source of the feed—the research vessel hovering between Hyperion and the portal.

The message flickers to an image of women clustered into a tiny room, just like the one I saw from Pellucid earlier. Then a dark room blinks into the feed with only one window. Static fills the transmission like the signal is weak.

PellucidLocal: …He—

PellucidLocal: Is…out th—

I fear one of our Brothers is stuck aboard the vessel above with other women, like Amp had mentioned.

A bullet sparks as it ricochets off of the hoverdrone's side. I duck and shield my head. I've got other priorities, but I don't want them to think I'll forget or that I've considered them not important. I just can't help them now.

CrazeLocal: If you can read me, we're pinned down, damaged. But if we make it out, we will find you.

No response comes, and I wonder if they're powered down or have gone dark by choice. Maybe their network relay is damaged.

CrazeLocal: I wish we could help. Be strong.

PellucidLocal: …

I wish this wasn't our life. I wish we could know something other than war, than straining to hold on. But if I don't stay focused on our survival, any hope of freedom will be gone forever.

CrazeLocal: I'm sorry. Please understand.

CrazeLocal: Pellucid, do you copy?

But all I get is silence.