The Battle For Cyclops: A Xander Cain Novel

by P W Hillard

  The Battle For Cyclops

  A Xander Cain Novel

  P.W Hillard

  P.W Hillard Fiction

  Copyright © 2021 P.W Hillard Fiction

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  A Brief History of The Mercenary Guild

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Anatomy of a Dropship

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Space Combat – A Primer

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  MediCare Autopsy report – August 16th, 1422-YR

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Infantry on the modern battlefield.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Pay-per-view transmission from the IMC

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Job advert posted to Hades's internet prior to Black Rose invasion.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The Paladins strike Again!

  A Message from the Author

  The Void Beyond- Sample Prologue

  Chapter One

  The water exploded as the round plunged into it, cascading over the ship as it cut through the waves. It was the twelfth near-miss in the last five minutes and Xander was rapidly regretting his choice of mission. He was like a nesting doll, a rider within a mech suit, his war machine stacked amongst others in the landing ship as it accelerated towards the beach ahead. His team had been split amongst the other landers, at his request. He didn't want a single hit taking out his fledgeling mercenary company during their first official job, that would have just been embarrassing.

  Xander could feel the landing craft moving from side to side, even within the relative safety of what riders called a ‘coffin’—the metal cabin within his mechsuit. Xander tried to keep his mind focused. The mechsuit was wired directly into his nervous system and the last thing he needed was for his Defender to begin swaying side to side. There was barely any space to move on the landing craft as is.

  “Four minutes until landfall,” Matthias said. He dropped a timer into Xander’s vision, the numbers immediately counting down. “Pre-mission intel confirms that this section of beach will have defensive emplacements to your right and left. About forty-five degrees on each side. I think you have about a seventy-five per cent chance one of them will target your landing craft as the mechanised units within begin to disembark.”

  “I…thanks, Matthias.” Xander had given up trying to tell the AI not to give him information like that. Knowing his chances of instantly dying wasn’t exactly good for his nerves. “Think we can take them?”

  “Oh, with my help of course. We can increase our odds of survival significantly. This mechanised unit is rather outdated, but we can make do. I’ve studied the designs of the expected defences and I think that possibly we can-”

  “I don’t need the full speech. Can we do it?”

  “Yes, target the locations I highlight with weapons fire. Please do make sure you’re accurate.”

  Xander didn’t answer. The countdown was in its last minute. It was time to face the music. He checked his grip on his weapon, a large autocannon that the mech carried like an assault rifle. The machine was brand new, bought with some of the company's low funds. Xander had found himself in possession of a jump capable starship, some cash, and a bay full of damaged mechs. Things had very quickly begun to run out. It had finally reached the point where the company couldn't afford to be picky and had taken a job Xander would have normally run a mile from. Amphibious assaults were dangerous and rare, which meant it paid well, but the risk was high.

  The lander shuddered as it hit the beach. It was a massive thing, but simple, an old ferry carrying mechs rather than cars. It was a miracle it had made it this far without taking a shell in its guts. There was a loud groan as the front of the ship begun to lower, arms that had spent the best part of the last few years unmoving in a dry dock waking up. It slammed into the sand, exposing the carnage beyond.

  At the far side of the beach, where the sand curved up to meet the scrubland beyond enemy mechs were lying flat, their bodies shielded by the sand before them. Two of the landing craft had made it ahead of Xander's, the suits within pouring out into a hail of cannon fire. Matthias was right, there were two fortified emplacements at Xander's ten o'clock and two o'clock, heavy anti-armour cannons shielded by hastily erected concrete barriers. Red beacons flashed in his vision, highlighting the targets Mathias wanted Xander to shoot. Xander immediately understood what the AI was going for, but it was easier said than done.

  The mechs around Xander began to run, pouring out from the ferry. They were QT-34s, a cheap mech common to corporate forces. Xander’s people were the only mercenaries in the operation, the other companies had wisely turned it down.

  One of the cannons swivelled towards the crowd and fired. A mech at the front of the stampede exploded, its upper torso blossoming outwards into a twisted spiral of metal as the shot penetrated the armour. The second cannon fired, claiming another victim. This time the round didn’t penetrate, its explosion washing against the armour of the mech. It fell anyway and Xander knew the pilot was either dead or unconscious from the impact. He made sure to step around the fallen suits; stomping over them wasn’t considered proper etiquette.

  “Fire on the highlighted targets, Xander,” Matthias said. The AI was in its formal mode. It seemed to swap back and forth, giving instructions or updates in a nearly robotic fashion before returning to its chattier self. “Seems like my prediction was accurate.”

  Xander pushed past the corporate forces, firing his cannon at the ridge to try and keep the enemy machines pinned. He was flanking right, the locations Matthias had marked were behind the concrete barriers, and Xander needed a clean shot. The guns were mobile things, wheeled in to provide support. This meant their ammunition needed to come with them and had been stored away from the barriers.

  He fired, snapping off a shot at the target to his left. His aim was off the round thudding into the sand behind the gun.

  “I did ask you to hit the targets,” Matthias said unhelpfully.

  “Working on it!”

  Xander fired again, correcting his aim. This time he was on target, his shot striking the stacked boxes of ammunition. The emplacement erupted in a ball of fire, shrapnel flying into the air. Xander turned his attention towards the next gun, shifting his weight on his heel to bring himself around. It was lucky he did, the sand where he had been a moment ago flew into the air like a geyser. The second emplacement had singled him out as a mercenary and was now trying to take him out.


  The Defender stepped to the side, Xander’s thoughts of movement transferring to the machine through the wetware connection mounted above his left eye. It was a requirement to control a mechsuit, an implant that made a person either more or less of a human, depending on who you asked. The sand around him looked like waves in a storm as rounds struck the ground.

  Across the beach, it was a similar story. The landing ships, those that had made it to the sands at least, were disgorging their contents. The coastline as far as Xander could see was a war zone, the attack forces falling in startling numbers as they tried to break through. It was brutal, a huge expenditure of money and lives that had sadly become all too common across the Iron Belt after Hades.

  The cannon behind the concrete barricade fired again, and Xander shifted his position, turning so the side of his mech was facing the gun. The shot hit the armour of his torso, skipping off the sloped plates and sinking into the sand behind him. That was the difference between a skilled mercenary and a cheap corporate rider, Xander’s experience had told him the gun was about to fire and he had moved at just the right time. A moments delay would have meant the round hitting him dead in the chest, a blow almost guaranteed to be fatal.

  Xander broke into a run, trying to get his angle on the emplacement. He had requested that the beach be softened up with airstrikes or offshore bombardments, but the corporation running the operation had refused, citing the additional cost. Xander knew that math didn't add up. Without that support the extra mechs and riders lost in the assault would be more expensive than a single bombing run. He had tried to argue his case, only to be rebuffed.

  “You need to target the second emplacement,” Matthias said. “Preferably before they manage to hit us.”

  “Working on it!”

  The emplacement exploded, fire and metal blossoming out from behind the concrete wall. One of the loaders ran screaming from the inferno, their clothing ablaze. They staggered for a few metres before dropping dead onto the sand.

  Xander turned his head unit, scanning the area around him with its cameras. He hadn’t fired the shot that had destroyed the emplacement and the corporate forces around him were currently trying to engage the defenders on the ridge line.

  “Having problems, Cain?” said a voice over the radio.

  “Not anymore. Thanks, Meg.”

  Meg adjusted her rifle, taking aim at another emplacement. Synthetic muscles, gears and servos moved as her mechanical finger squeezed the trigger again. A moment later another gun fell silent, Meg’s shot punching through the cannon’s firing chamber and rendering it useless. It wasn’t the impressive gout of fire from her last kill, but it was good enough.

  Meg’s mechsuit was a much lighter design than Xander’s a lithe thing intended to engage infantry during urban deployment. It was poorly suited for the beach assault, so Xander had given her a different task. The beach had a cliff at the far end, sheer white rock looming over the sands. Xander had issued her a sniper rifle and ordered her to make for the cliffs once she was disembarked. Meg’s suit was equipped with jump jets, powerful devices derived from lost tech that allow her suit to take flight, though it was in a limited capacity. Meg had used them to scale the rock face and was now in a perfect vantage point to provide support.

  “You got eyes on the others?” Xander said as he rushed past the still burning emplacement.

  “Yeah. Anya is keeping the enemy at the ridge line near her pinned down so the corporate goons can advance. Alexi is struggling a little, I'm going to try and help him out.”

  “Ok. Relieve what pressure you can. I’m going to try and break through here. I’ve still got some back up left.”

  “Got it, boss. You've got four enemy QTs right ahead of you. Looks like basic loadouts.” Meg squeezed the trigger again. “Three now.”

  “Thanks. Go support the others. I got this. And stop calling me boss, we’re all equal owners.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Meg's smile was somehow audible over the radio.

  Xander checked his ammo and then switched his radio frequency, a simple thought enough for the mechsuit to interpret his desire to change channels.

  “Ok, we’re going to push that ridge.” Xander didn’t need to see the faces of the corporate mechs behind him to know they would be wracked with nerves. Of the seven QTs that had disembarked with Xander, only three were remaining. These were men used to defending warehouses or offices, paid to stand around and look imposing. If they had seen combat before it was nothing on this scale.

  The terrorist group known as Black Rose had done its job well. Appearing across the Iron Belt in vast numbers they had upset the delicate balance between the corporations, fanning the embers of conflict that existed into an inferno. The entire belt had descended into open warfare, the corporations fighting amongst themselves in a way they hadn’t since the corporate wars. It was a good time to be a mercenary, provided your company had a decent reputation built up.

  “I want you to fire as we charge, cannons and lasers, but aim for the ridge itself, not the enemy. Hit the sand.” It was a trick Xander had learnt dealing with a sniper back on Hades. Mechsuits were designed to diffuse the energy of laser fire, covered in specialised paints and coatings. But they still relied on cameras for vision, and a lucky hit could blind an opponent for a few moments.

  “Got it,” said one of the corporate soldiers.

  “Ok,” said another.

  Xander simply gestured forwards with his hand, and his makeshift unit charged. Lasers pulsed, the sand turning to glass where they struck. Cannon fire followed a moment later, sending the sand where it hit spraying into the air. The defenders fired wildly, taking pot-shots through the beige wall that had formed before them. One of the QTs following Xander took a hit, falling to the ground. Their left knee had been struck, the joint seizing and causing them to topple. They were alive at least.

  Xander jumped as he crossed the ridge, a compartment on his right leg opening as he did. He gripped the now exposed handle of his field knife and pulled the blade free. It thrummed with unseen power as he flew through the air.

  He landed atop one of the prone defenders, the weight of his suit focused on the where the torso of the QT was affixed to the legs. Something snapped, part of the enemy suit buckling from the impact. Xander turned to his right and allowed his mech to topple forwards. He grappled onto his next target with his free arm, putting his knee into the back of the now struggling QT. Xander pressed his knife to the side of his pinned adversary's torso and the armour glowed hot as the knife slowly slid into the metal. There was a clunk as it cut through, the hilt banging against the outer armour now the resistance was gone. The QT stopped moving, the blade would have pierced the inner cabin, killing the rider instantly.

  Xander scrambled to his feet, turning to face the last of the defending mechs. His corporate escort had dealt with it, though one of them had lost an arm in the process. Xander wasn't sure how that had happened, but it didn't matter. He was through now, past the defensive line. That meant the defenders were caught between two pincers, forced to fight on two fronts.

  “Meg, which way? You have better eyes on this than me.”

  “West. Alex and Anya are just about through on the east side. The west flank is all corporate,” there was a loud bang on the line as Meg fired, “so it’s struggling a little.”

  “I have to agree with Megara’s assessment,” Matthias said. Xander ignored him, the AI’s existence was a secret. His wetware implant was already a barely tolerable exception to the widespread taboo of combining people and machines. Xander wasn’t keen to broadcast there was a sentient lost tech computer program hiding in his mind.

  “Ok, well, I better get to work then,” Xander said.

  Chapter Two

  Clamps locked into place, gripping onto the mechsuit sitting in the bay. Across its armoured hide were dents and scorch marks, the signs of battle splashed across the metal like abstract art. Sand was still squeezed between the joints and
globs of mud were stuck to the legs where it had pushed past the beaches and into enemy lines. The suit had gone down brand new, its armour still gleaming with factory polish. It had come back looking like a junk pile.

  “What did you do?” Tamara said, looking up at the mech suit. As usual, she had a tablet clutched in her hands. The massive magnetised boots she was wearing clashed with her starched and ironed white blouse and pencil skirt. Tamara had been a webcast producer until Hades. Afterwards, she had slipped into the newly formed mercenary company on the business side. She was a shrewd woman, one with a keen eye for marketing and PR. She was filming the mechsuit with her tablet, recording footage for the fawning promotional videos she liked to make. “It's trashed.”

  “That’s not trashed,” Xander said, gesturing to the mech. He wasn’t attached to the deck like Tamara was, instead floating next to her, his hands gripping a rail that ran before the bay. The Sunchaser was a state-of-the-art ship, but even she didn’t have artificial gravity. That was the realm of science fiction. The ship had sweeping arms attached to its hull that contained the crew quarters that would spin to provide the illusion of gravity. The mech bays were in the main hull, where the lack of gravity was a boon to their maintenance, the weight of the heavy machines negated. “That’s just standard wear and tear. Quick clean and it’ll be as good as new.”

  “It's hardly heroic-looking.”

  “I’ll try to remember that next time. When cannons are firing at me with no cover, I’ll think, Xander, you better make sure you look heroic.”

  “You know what I mean. People don’t want to see what battles are really like. They want the sanitised version. Cool explosions with none of the casualties.” Tamara let out a long sigh. “I’ll make it work. Somehow.”

  “You always do,” Xander said. He spun in the air, an ungainly manoeuvre for someone who was being told to be heroic. Despite his years as a mercenary Xander wasn't used to zero gravity. The number of companies he knew that had their own ships were countable on one hand, it was simply too expensive to buy one. The Paladins' own Sunchaser was claimed in lieu of payment from their past employer, a corporation that had imploded due to several poor financial decisions, purchasing the ship included.