The Battle For Cyclops: A Xander Cain Novel

by P W Hillard

  “They are getting better,” Alexi said, his mech standing. The dust had started to clear, the remnants of wall settling onto the ice.

  “Yeah well, war does that. Only the good survive.” Anya stomped over to Alexi, a thin layer of grey settling on the shoulders of her machine. “You've got some soot on you. Here,” she said, pointing on her mech. “And here, here as well, just generally everywhere.” She waved her hand in a circular motion at Alexi's mech. “You're supposed to not damage these. Firing a missile point-blank isn't particularly smart, is it?” Anya was using the same tone as a schoolteacher scolding a child.

  “It did the job. Besides this is nothing a good scrub won’t clean off.”

  “Oh yeah? Ever tried scraping off soot that’s been burned onto armour?” Anya said. She turned to face the wreckage of the dropships, their vast fuel reserves still burning despite the freezing atmosphere. “You can handle that on your own. We should check these downed ships. It’s unlikely anyone survived, but we should be sure.”

  “Makes sense. Wouldn’t want someone sneaking up on us when we follow Xander.”

  “Those dropships are a fair bit out. We should get moving.” Anya broke into a run, her heavy footsteps thudding against the ice rhythmically. Even heavy suits like Anya’s were capable of surprising speed, a consequence of their size, each stride crossing several metres.

  Alexi followed her, accelerating his suit with thoughts of sprinting. It was oddly tiring despite no real movement on his part. “Agreed. Who knows what kind of trouble those two are getting in to?”

  ***

  The elevator began to move, activated by a mech sized button. It groaned as the metal shifted, the mechanism loud and unsettling. It descended, carrying its cargo deeper into the complex. To those aboard it was like the ice was rising to consume them, low light bouncing off the white ice and giving everything a spectral glow. It moved slowly, creeping into the depths.

  “So, we were both wrong. On our bet,” Meg said. “This thing is so slow that it’s going to take a long time for the others to catch up with us.”

  “Yeah. I wonder how deep this thing is going?” In Xander's vision, the three timers had already ticked down to zero. Wherever this elevator was heading, they would have to survive on their own for a while.

  “We have been travelling for sixteen minutes,” Matthias said. “I’ve calculated that this elevator is moving approximately one meter per second by tracking the movement of the ice. That would put us a kilometre down, give or take.”

  Xander had to admit that on occasion, having an AI sharing his brain was useful.

  “Who knows? Damn, how did the workers building that station not notice Black Rose building this place? It’s not like you can knock this out in a day with some shovels.” Meg was sweeping the walls with her lights, watching the ice trundle past.

  “It had to be here before work started on the station,” Xander said. It was the only thing that made sense to him. “It takes years to build a space station though, the best part of a decade. The one here isn't even half done, but that still means this place has to have been here what, four or five years?”

  “Plus, all the time before that it took to build. How long have they been planning all this, Cain? Have these shits just been lurking in the Iron Belt for decades, building up their numbers and forces? This isn’t a terrorist group. This is an army.”

  Xander couldn’t argue with Meg’s logic. Black Rose had appeared on major planets across the Iron Belt simultaneously. That was a feat that would be impossible for even the biggest mercenary company or corporate force. The only way it was possible would have been to slowly build up secret forces over time, lying in wait until the time was right.

  When they finally emerged, Black Rose had thrown the Belt into chaos. They attacked corporate interests, the unmarked mechsuits giving the impression, at least initially, that the attacks were from opposing corporations. It had been enough to tip the planets they had chosen into open warfare, the corporations seizing at the excuse to crush their rivals.

  The Iron Belt had been the perfect target. The strip straddled known space, forming a meandering line that stretched to the dead stars at the border. The systems within it were unusually resource dense, which meant each housed anywhere from dozens to several hundred corporations depending on the size. Aggression between them wasn't unusual but was normally restricted to minor skirmishes, the corporations reserved, unwilling to lose their slice of the lucrative region of space. It was a cold war, a powder-keg waiting for the match that would turn it hot. Black Rose had provided that match.

  Even the revelation that they were being played for fools hadn’t stopped the war. No corporation wanted to be the first to back down for fear their rivals would pounce.

  “Yeah. Just when we think we have a handle on them, they have something else up their sleeves.”

  The tone of the light began to shift as the elevator cleared the ice, halogen lamps pouring their off yellow in through the growing gap. It had descended into an enormous chamber, one that stretched out into the distance until the image grew blurry in the cameras of the mechsuits. It had to be at least a mile in each direction, maybe more, the looming shadows that crept in where the lights hadn’t sprung to life made it difficult.

  The elevator continued its descent, moved by motors resting in three pillars that had run along the inside of the ice tunnel. The two mechsuits atop it edged forward as soon as there was enough space, peering into the chamber beneath them.

  “Like…like this,” Xander said, hardly able to believe what he was looking at. Rows upon rows of QT-34 mechsuits, tanks, anti-aircraft guns, armoured personnel carriers, materiel of every description. There were hundreds of mechsuits alone, enough to equip dozens of mercenary companies. Billions of credits sitting in storage, awaiting pilots to bring them to life. “This is insane.”

  “There’s enough stuff here to take on, well, anyone. Who are these people, Xander?”

  “I have no ide-”

  Xander cut himself off. There was a streak in the darkness, something flying through the chamber towards the two mechs on the elevator.

  “Missile!” he shouted.

  Chapter Eighteen

  With nowhere else to go, Meg and Xander simply dropped, throwing their suits to the floor of the elevator in an attempt to avoid the missile. It sailed over them, crashing into one of the pillars supporting the contraption. The missile exploded, the pillar suffering from stresses it was never designed to take. It shattered, knocking the motor that was moving the elevator free. With the heavy equipment thrown off balance the metal plate acting as the floor dropped on one side, the remaining columns threatening to give way under the additional strain.

  Both mechs were sent flying as the plate shifted beneath them, sliding off in a waterfall of sparks as armour scraped against elevator floor. They tumbled off, falling the still considerable height to the ground below.

  Xander felt the thuds as his suit crashed into a stationary QT. The unused mech was locked in place by a metal frame, one that buckled as Xander’s Defender struck it. The QT fell backwards, hitting the one behind it. The frame on the second one held and Xander’s suit rolled to the floor, alarms blaring within its cabin.

  There was a ringing in Xander’s ears, one caused by the fall rather than the warning klaxons blaring. The inside of a cabin was padded, and its seat was designed to cradle the rider against impacts. It wasn’t perfect and being knocked out by a heavy blow was a common way for a rider to be taken out of combat.

  “Are you alright?” Matthias said. His voice sounded strange the pitch shifting back and forth. “You took rather a nasty knock there.”

  “Yeah, I think…I think so.” Xander’s head hurt, and he could feel the trickle of blood. The rest of him ached but there were no sharp pains or immediate worries. “What's wrong with your voice.”

  “I believe you have a concussion. As an, let’s say…resident, of your brain I suspect it may be a side ef
fect.”

  “Right.” It made sense, though Xander felt like his thoughts were fighting through a fog. “What’s the status of the Defender?” He tried to give his suit the command to stand. It did as he was asked, but the response was noticeably slow. Too slow. Xander immediately knew that Matthias had to be right about the concussion. It had to be impacting the wetware embedded over his eye.

  “Minor damage to the outer armour. Several joints have cracked bearings that will need to be replaced at the earliest opportunity. The reactors regulator is offline, but I am manually controlling the energy flow. We should move quickly, whoever launched that missile will be readying to fire again.”

  Xander knew that was the case. Anyone with a reasonable amount of experience would. He didn’t need the AI coddling him even if he was injured. With less speed than Xander would have liked his suit ducked between the rows of QTs, using the deactivated mechs as cover.

  “Is there something you can do about the…fuzziness,” Xander said. He had found it difficult to find the word he was after. “You know, rewire something, or move stuff about?”

  “You want me to alter the make-up of your brain?”

  “I mean, you’ve already done that to fit yourself in, haven’t you? And for the thingy, the uh…wetware, that’s it.”

  “Hmm, that’s a fair assertion. I do suppose I can return it to normal once this is all over. Very well. It will take me a moment. You might experience some strangeness in the interim,” Matthias said.

  “Stranger than normal?” Xander waited for the AI to reply but got no response. “Right, busy. I get it.”

  “Xander, are you alright?” Meg said, her words punctuated with bursts from her weapon. Her mech appeared from amongst the legions of unmoving metal soldiers. She was shooting at something in the darkness, flashes of light illuminating everything around her. “It looks like you took a nasty knock.”

  “I’m alright. I think. Nothing a few days rest won’t sort in.”

  “You mean sort out?”

  “I do, yeah. Are you alright?”

  Meg fired another burst, leaning around a QT to unleash it. “I'm fine. One of the advantages of having jump jets. There are infantry everywhere in here. I'm guessing that missile was man-portable. And it's likely not the only one.”

  “Take them out, Meg. Don’t worry about me, I’m feeling a lot better.” It wasn’t a lie, Xander could feel the fog lifting from his mind, his reactions improving with every moment. Whatever Matthias was doing to Xander’s mind was working. “Go do what you do best.”

  ***

  Mikal tapped his foot on the floor, his arms crossed. It was an impressive trick considering there was no gravity, his mood overcoming such meagre things as physics. He was a mixture of annoyed and impressed, though if he was being honest with himself it was far more of the latter. Before him, the engines of the dropship were cooling down, a swarm of crewmen waiting to refuel and rearm it. The door on the side slid open, Candice drifting through with her helmet tucked under her arm.

  “That was insane,” Mikal said, looking at the slowly floating pilot. “Daring, but also totally shitting insane. Next time you want to do something so incredibly stupid, let me know first so I can tell you fuck right off.”

  “Hey, it worked didn’t it? You don’t question a horse when he wins the race, sugar.” Candice was smiling wider than Mikal thought possible. The woman was unbearably proud of her achievement. She grabbed a handhold on the wall, bringing herself to a stop that jerked slightly at her shoulder.

  “It was effective, I’ll give her that,” Sergei said. He had followed Mikal down from the bridge, though if he was being honest with himself it was because he wasn’t sure what to do otherwise. Doing paperwork during a life and death situation felt like a waste of time.

  “I’m not denying it wasn’t effective. It certainly did the job quick enough! I have no problem with crazy plans. I mean bloody ‘ell as a pirate life is basically one long non-stop crazy plan. I just like to know about them before we’re doing them,” Mikal said, glaring at Candice.

  “I suppose I see your perspective,” she said with a shrug. “I was just acting in the heat of the moment. Living solely on impulse, going where my heart took me. My Mama always told me to act first and damn the consequences. It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission, after all.”

  Mikal rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth, ready to rebuke the pilot for putting their only dropship at risk, rushing into a fight for which it was wildly outgunned and outclassed but was cut off by noise at the hangar door. He turned, magnetic boots clicking on the deck as he looked at the source of the loud banging.

  Tamara had just stormed through the doorway, or at least she had tried to, her spacesuit making it difficult to move with any kind of purpose. Behind her, Mitch was struggling to squeeze through the tight doorway with a bulky camera on his shoulder, whilst Trevor was having similar trouble with a boom mic. Like Tamara, neither man had removed their spacesuit.

  “Oh, brilliant,” Tamara said. “Glad you're all here. Sergei forwarded me the footage of our daring pilot's little adventure and it is fantastic. Lightly armed dropship takes out two powerful warships and wins! You couldn't write this kind of stuff, it's too perfect.” Despite rushing straight down to the hanger Tamara had still found time to grab her tablet. She was tapping at it furiously, the footage of the battle replaying. She had multiple windows open, each displaying either recordings from onboard cameras aboard the dropship or footage from one of the Sunchaser’s multiple telescopes.

  “Orbital defence gunships ain’t exactly warships,” Mikal said. He eyed Sergei, broadcasting his annoyance. Sergei just shrugged in response. “And besides before miss living on impulse there takes all the glory it was the Sunchaser’s missiles that scored the killing blow. She was nothing more than a bloody glorified distraction.”

  “Oh good, well then, tell me all about it,” Tamara said. She had a grin that was all teeth, like a predator cornering her prey. “Now seems like the perfect moment for an interview, seeing as you’re both here and both so eager to talk about it.”

  ***

  Meg stalked through the chamber like a phantom, striding between the tightly stacked piles of equipment, unleashing deadly bursts on the squads of infantry moving through the massive warehouse. She was moving as fast as she could, engaging small groups before slinking back to evade return fire. She knew she was being hunted, this was enemy territory after all, deep inside the Black Rose base.

  The teams chasing her weren't the pirates they had hired previously. Brief flashes of pale skin told Meg she was fighting the same kind of strangely altered humans who piloted the Black Rose mechs. Either they had changed their tactics when it came to infantry or had been holding these forces in reserve this whole time. Considering what she and Xander had discovered, Meg would have guessed the latter, the pirates used because they were disposable.

  She worried about Xander, his suit hunkering down near the remains of the elevator. It had to have taken damage from a fall like that. Despite her worry, Meg had done as Xander had asked. He was her commander, technically, but she knew he was right. Her suit was light, fast and designed for this very task. Moving around like she was, striking out at the enemy, that was better in the long run.

  Metal feet clanged against the floor of the chamber. Unlike the corridor above the entire cavernous room had been completely encased in metal, the floor, walls, and ceiling all covered in the same brushed steel. There were hundreds of columns scattered about, holding up the vaulted ceiling. Meg hoped there was another elevator or that Xander's theories about there being a launch hanger for the dropships were right, otherwise getting out from this deep within the glacier would be a problem.

  Another cluster of infantry emerged from between two tanks. There was three of them total, one carrying a missile launcher on his shoulder. It was a standard setup, one man to fire, one to spot, and one to reload. Their tight grouping was their downfall. Rather than u
nleash a burst from her main gun, Meg fired a laser the beam searing the flesh of the three men instantly. It was gruesome but incredibly effective. She needed to conserve her ammo if she was going to be stuck down here for an unknown length of time. The laser had the advantage of requiring only power from the reactor, along with no travel time on the beam, but the weapon was prone to overheating and needed to cool if used rapidly in succession.

  There was a flash from deeper in the chamber, along with the loud boom of a weapon firing. Meg knew it had to be Xander, fighting against more of the infantry.

  “You doing alright there?” She said, the radio transmitting her words.

  “Yeah, I'm fine, just some infantry trying their luck. We need to keep moving, to find somewhere more defensible. If there are this many mechs then there have to be more pilots.”

  “So, we trash them and move on?”

  “Hell no,” Xander said. “We have absolute salvage rights, remember? This is the motherload. It’s enough to keep the Paladins in business for years. We keep as much of this intact as we can.”

  “Fair enough.” Meg hadn’t even considered the value of what they had found. Xander was right, it was in the hundreds of millions of credits easily. That was why the Paladin’s had voted Xander as their leader. He was a Cain, the scion of mercenary royalty. Even if he protested, he was a natural commander. “Well, ok then. Just need to find a way out, Meg,” she said to herself.