Rebellion (A Titan Romance Book 1)

C
aptain Raemus Petrus
, Titan Class, straddled the open hatch of his Raptor assault aircraft. One large boot remained inside, the other was planted in the gritty soil of a high clifftop. He smiled at the simple symbolism of it: half in, half out. But there was no time to think about it. There was never enough time for himself anymore, for his rebellion was a great one.

At the moment, he was having difficulty wrapping up the final blessing of his Religious Officer, Bin Ar-Drezar, who was back at base in the comfort of the operations office. Bin Ar-Drezar’s full length hologram, distinct by its high hood and flowing robes, rose and flickered from the middle console of the aircraft.

Raemus tried to give his superior his full attention. The blessing, required before any mission, had stretched into annoying, frivolous chatter. It wasn’t that unusual. He’d spent most of his life multi-tasking while religious mentors whispered into his ear. After all, he was a Titan warrior, one of the most ferocious and skilled soldiers ever engineered. So, he
always
had religious mentors whispering into his ear.

Instead of giving the Bin Ar-Drezar his full attention, he surveyed his combat team the way a commander
should
do in the last minutes before a military operation.

Six white Raptors, including his own, crouched back twenty meters from the cliff’s precipitous edge. Commanders manned each, poised and ready in their seats. Behind the immaculate white Raptors, three dirty and battered smaller aircraft stood, disguised as smugglers' freighters—but actually packing an enormous amount of firepower.

The rest of his Titans lay prone on their stomachs at the edge of the cliff above the vast rusted valley below. He’d hand-picked them from his own Thunder Company for their loyalty and discretion, from squad leaders to weapon specialists to his communications specialist.

These Titans were all beasts of war, loyal only to him and his holy cause, clad in their green battle armor, differentiated by the red hand-painted markings of rank.

But instead being able to begin his mission on time, a frustrating blue and white hologram that wouldn’t stop talking held him up.

“It’s a pity you aren’t the power-hungry war Titan I once mentored, ” the Religious Officer carried on. “You have obligations to your own career, captain. The Church needs you rising through the ranks.
I
need you rising through the ranks, too. Together we can move closer to the galaxy’s core, move closer to the power we know we
both
can wield. Now tell me, how can I shepherd your poor soul if you’re not blinded by ambition, Captain Raemus?”

Raemus chuckled slightly at Bin Ar-Drezar’s joke. It was true, and that was the only reason he laughed at all. That and because Bin Ar-Drezar no longer hid his suspicions of Raemus’ diminishing loyalty.

“You talk too much of compassion these days, captain. It’s unflattering. It’s not in your genes.” The hologram waved a finger. “And trust me. More than anyone, I know your genome.”

“I’ll get the job done, your excellence, without a hint of compassion, I promise. The human convoy will arrive safely.”

Raemus lied, of course.

He had no intention of letting the human convoy arrive at the base at all.

The figure of the hologram raised a fist in a well practiced salute. “Crush your enemies. Crush your rivals. Glory to The Almighty.”

Raemus nodded. He
did
agree with that. It was not only a mantra of the Office of Religious Oversight, of which Bin Ar-Drezar served as the local envoy, but a system of conduct deeply programmed into Raemus' DNA. Bowing to Bin Ar-Drezar’s image, and—believing every word—he repeated, “Glory to The Almighty.”

He gripped his helmet in both of his large hands and slid it over his head.

Finally! I started to think the snake didn’t want the human convoy to even have an escort!

The hologram flickered and vanished as Raemus stepped from his aircraft and planted both feet firmly toward his destiny.

He lay down in the red, coarse dirt, shimmying to the edge of the cliff alongside his communications specialist, Sergeant Levi Petrus. Levi also had the last name Petrus, for though they weren’t clones, all soldiers of the Titan Class were literally—and figuratively—brothers.

“How close are they?” Raemus asked, glad to be back on task.

“Little more than six kilometers.” Levi came up on one elbow to look at his beloved commander. “Never known humans to be so punctual. You know, there’s still a chance to let them live.”

Raemus frowned, barely offering a shake of his head. “The Almighty has laid my path, Sergeant Levi. I merely stride its track.”

“But if the humans have free will, captain, and most of our DNA comes from human strains, then maybe we get a little of it, too. I mean, how do humans
know
they have free will? I only mention it, captain, because, well,” he pointed down toward the approaching line of three armored troop carriers far below them, “here come some humans now. You could let them live and just
ask
them about it.”

You are as curious as I am, Levi. Bless your heart. I couldn’t imagine a mission without your nutty banter.

Raemus ignored the joke, however, for Levi plainly meant it that way. No Titan there that day had any intention of letting the humans live. “They might
believe
they are free, Levi,” Raemus replied. “I don’t believe anyone’s free. Not anymore.” He peered down to the convoy, now only five kilometers out from the base of the cliff they hid upon.

Raemus came up on his elbows and motioned to the valley below. “Sure, here come some humans. But they’re headed into a destiny they know nothing about. Do you think these arrogant fools have chosen this fate?”

Raemus used hand signals, ordering his flight team to fire up the disguised smugglers' freighters.

“Let’s
test
that, Sergeant Levi. Let’s see if a human can shape its own fate in the face of an unrelenting destiny.” He smiled wryly, but he found no humor in it—because by ‘unrelenting destiny’ he referred to devastating destruction by firepower. “Enough talk.”

Raemus pushed himself up to his knees, squatting on his thick, powerful haunches. The five members of his leadership team repeated this movement until they sat in identical postures, on their knees, gloved hands on the hips of their high-powered green battle armor, aligned along the jagged cliff overlooking the immense cold, desert plain.

If not for the powerful assault aircraft humming and shimmering behind them, they looked like acolytes of the desert, perhaps of a distant past, awaiting the touch of something divine.

Which
was
close to the truth.

They were Titans, created in the consecrated laboratories of The Church of Nova Sol, created to be the long fingers of The Almighty’s holy wrath throughout the galaxy. But these warriors lacked no divinity that day. War was their religion. And The Almighty had bestowed a lifetime’s worth of that .

Only, something unexpected caught Raemus' genetically-enhanced eyes in the distant valley. A small plume of red dust half a kilometer north of the road below. It was a calm, windless day. There should have been
no
dust.

“Captain,” a voice said over the comm. “I’m showing infrared anomalies on the valley floor. It’s not clear, but I don’t think your convoy is alone down there.”

Raemus activated the digital zoom of his helmet cam, enlarging the three completely black armored troop carriers and the terrain surrounding their route below. Sure enough, he could make out at least six dark, blurred images staggered parallel to the road.

“Damn,” he said in a mask of calm, though he felt heat surge into his blood.

These images angered him for two reasons. One, the images were blurred, meaning whoever lurked down there used shields to mask their energy signatures, so they weren’t amateurs. Two, the images were deployed tactically. They were about to ambush the approaching human convoy.

This last fact especially troubled Raemus, and immediately every member of his team, because
they
were about to ambush the approaching human convoy.

Someone was about to beat them to it.

“Captain, I’ve got movement from two locations.”

And with that, Raemus watched in silent fury as a blue stream of plasma extended from one of the blurs in his helmet cam, smashing into the side of the lead vehicle far below.

He was not going to let this happen. With the quick controlled surge of adrenalin, his pupils completely dilated, changing the color of his eyes from blue to black in an instant.

“Mount up! Mount up!” he shouted into his helmet mic as he jumped to his feet. Most human commanders would have studied the situation a few moments. But not
this
Titan. Today, he would rain hell upon these who opposed his cause.

In a tremendous windstorm of vertical thrusters and heat, the entire team jettisoned off the cliff, roaring toward the beginnings of the battle in the distance.