Fracture (Rogue Fleet #3)

Chapter 1 Fracture

I live in a glass house: fragile, transparent, and hollow.

To my Brothers, being broken feels wrong.

To me, it is normal…my prime skill. So when I am lost, it is something much darker and deeper than a sensation of fragmenting.

I do that for breakfast, shatter by lunch, and explode into a million tiny shards that I wield like ruthless bullets as we plow through another Solcruean supply transport for dinner.

It feels good to be among my Brothers again as we raze through the hallways, slaying enemy Solcrue like we used to back before Cyborg Submission Patrol turned on us.

Rogue Psycho is close by, pink eyes blazing as he charges through the incoming fire, sniping the snakes with a rifle he modified to explode Solcrue on contact.

Relic Craze, his eyes a shade darker magenta than Rogue Psycho’s, fights alongside him with slightly more carelessness and a feral expression—tongue out, nano-spittle flying from his maniacal grin—as he shoves the radiant blade of a hot zembi into the neck of a traitorous human soldier.

And yet not one bullet tags either of the lunatics.

They are fast and ruthless as they smash through the wall of enemy forces.

Cyborg Submission Patrol falls more easily than the alien Solcrue. But even the taller, stronger, scaled descendants of humanity cannot compete with our rage-fueled missions or our Titan-specific skills.

CyberGuard Paradox has taken a stolen Solcruean Skysprinter to the neighboring Solcruean carrier, escorting the supply, and is cleansing it all on his own.

Or so he says. His model, a step above Rogues, two above Relics, has a unique dedication and focus on their purpose.

He does not smile or laugh. And while the monstrous brute might be a bit too serious among our Brothers, watching the cruiser shut down through a window is enough to convince me he can act however he wants.

To say we’re jealous of his skill is a massive understatement.

But we Rogues and Relics are grateful to have a Titan of his caliber back on our team.

It is only the beginning of our recovery efforts.

Many Brothers and Sisters were decommissioned, lost, or taken as prisoners to slave away in work camps.

We just need more information to help us find them.

And that’s why we’re here.

Rogue Castor rolls alongside me, rocking between Solcruean pulses, rising and unfolding himself in his dark form with radiant blue swirls, a death wish in his narrowed eyes as he takes out another CSP soldier who refuses to surrender. It’s not a wish for himself but one for them.

Rogue Demon blazes with orange fire as he barrels through an entire squad, torching their bodies, with Relic Fury at his side. They tag-team like Craze and Psycho.

Menace, the Relic who freed me, leaps into the air and bounds off the wall on all fours.

He is muscle and claws and teeth as he crashes into a different enemy squad, thrashing them apart like a rabid wolf.

His red eyes snap up to mine as he handles the last of the blockade between us and the filled conference room.

Menace>>Fracture: All you.

Fracture>>Evo: Tell me we have an in.

The door at the other end of the corridor still shimmers with its green Solcruean shield.

Evo>>Fracture: Now.

The shield drops.

I can’t say that I understand how Evolution does what he does when he touches things.

He’s been a slave on Solcrue ships, seen things, and had security clearances that make infiltration much easier.

I imagine it’s a bit like my alter ego: Obsidian.

However Evo does what he does, it doesn't matter. It works. And that’s all that I, or any of the rest of us, need to know.

I lift my rifle, fire at the door as our teams break open a path for me toward the convened members of the Solcruean Integration Program.

My blasts damage the door enough that I can cut it open, but I’m going to disintegrate my armor.

Aniah, Relic Redline’s mate, is still building more nano-receptive suits.

For now, I have to accept that my job will render me naked.

Evo could take down the shield, but the mechanical locks are manually latched from the inside for this specific reason. But those conspiring against our rebellion have massively underestimated what we will try to get to them and what we will risk for freedom.

I toss my rifle away, jump, and disaggregate myself into a mass of a million shards.

Then I throw myself at the door, pelting the frayed metal.

It is a battering feeling on my parts—shaking and scraping—like banging my head on a wall only a thousand different times all at once.

It strains my core aligner to punch through such a dense, metal structure, but I manage it until it’s a big enough hole for the other Titans to widen.

The hit slows my momentum, but I don’t need much now to be effective. My pieces flood the conference room, lacerating the Solcrue and CSP humans inside, disorienting them so they cannot escape.

Behind me, Jackknife reaches into the opening, wedges himself inside, and pries it into a bigger hole. The jagged blue stripe across his chest blazes with light as he gets more of his body inside the room and finally breaks the door. Metal squeals and groans, then falls with a slam.

Having Rebel Fleet and Centurion join our Rogue Fleet has opened up new information about CSP, including known routes and security protocols, even which Solcruean fleets have been seen negotiating with CSP and where.

But we’re here for someone in particular who hurt one of the critical bloodlines that must endure if we are ever to be free.

Someday, we will avenge all our fallen and enslaved brethren, biological and synth.

But today, we hunt a specific rotten soul.

The moment my glass daggers have circled the table and slowed the escape of our traitors and enemies, I coalesce my pieces into one body again and set my bare feet down on the table.

I look down at the male Solcrue that Rogue Brother Evolution wants more than the others.

We will take them all, but this one is going to suffer.

Solcrue Crezlith scampers back, an arm strapped to his bandaged chest, his green eyes wide with fear. He recently tried to take Evo’s mate, Aera, who possesses the DNA code to wield Xiphos, a powerful Earthen weapon that hides in the distant void.

Menace is the first inside behind Jackknife.

He tackles a human male with a CSP badge.

Craze launches in after him and bashes into a Solcruean soldier with an unfamiliar mothership badge on his chest. Psycho shoots a scaly officer in the leg, knocking him to the ground.

We don’t want this group dead. We want them for information.

From behind Psycho, Castor rolls inside and darts into the doorway of an exit that leads to escape pods. He stands, blocking it, and waggles a finger at the three Solcrue who sprint for it. They stop and back up.

We barricade the room so CSP and Solcrue are forced to group up in the middle.

A Solcrue, dark green eyes narrowed, his military cropped ears sliced open like his face from my abrasive whirlwind, lifts a gun at Menace.

I do not choose any one Brother over another, because I know we have all suffered in our own ways, but Menace has been tortured more than most. And he still risked everything to save me from cryostasis in corrupt Creator Quris’ lab on Planet Ellipsis.

Panic heats my spine. Desperation replaces it in a scorching flash.

Thrusting myself off the table, I morph into a cloud of shards, crash into the soldier, cut the rifle free, and form my body up beside him.

When the Solcrue straightens and charges me, I grab him by the neck and open myself to the darkness that writhes inside, the one thing I do not want others to see for fear I will push away the ones that matter most. But my hatred for Solcruean genocidal ways and CSP’s betrayal and the vast emptiness I feel inside from my decommissioned Brothers and Sisters overpowers me in moments like these.

Black fissures crawl out from my darkening hand, cracking him all over. He gasps in fear. The other Solcrue and human CSP soldiers fall silent as they watch.

Evo is not the only one who can shatter living things.

Crezlith looks on in mortification. I make sure he notices me watching him. All it takes is a little squeeze, and the Solcrue in my grip crumbles to a pile of broken glassy parts that soon turn to ash. I growl as my ink-black hand curls up. The anger lingers as I target my next closest enemy.

I won’t kill Crezlith. I’m not taking that from Evo.

The CSP soldier standing beside the pile of ash lifts his hands in surrender.

Castor>>Fracture: Nice to see your dark side again. It’s about time.

Fracture>>Castor: Don’t get used to it.

I sigh and push him back into submission. It’s not the Titan I want to be. I feel impulsive in that form, and that is not how Titans were programmed to operate.

In recent days, I have spent more time with Evo and his mate, Aera of Centurion, watching them work together. I wish I could find a female who loved my broken parts like Aera loves Evo. He is not a confident Titan, unless Aera needs something. Then he is determined to figure things out.

No one will want the other side of me, the one that can disintegrate bodies with a simple touch. It’s not something I can fix or take back once I start it. I have broken lives in the past that I am not proud of.

Two more crews of Titan Brothers form up outside the room in case our enemies get any ideas about trying to escape.

Fracture>>Local: Prisoners secured.

Rebel Roxi>>Local: Did you take out their molar capsules?

I look around the room at the other Titans, wondering who the new signal is and what she’s talking about.