The Battle For Cyclops: A Xander Cain Novel

by P W Hillard

  “It’s not fake. It’s scripted. That’s different. They’re still athletes.”

  “If you say so.” Despite being sealed into a metal shell, her shrug was audible. “Either way, I called it. This fucker took out my arm with that…beam. So, it’s only fair.”

  “I guess. I hope the others aren’t running into things like this.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A warning blared, filling the bridge with noise and light. Sergei winced, it only meant more trouble, and trouble always came with extra expense. Defending the Sunchaser against the enemy gunships had expended valuable ammunition, the red lines of his budget already visible in his mind. Sergei hated the idea of looking like he was credit-pinching, but he had risked everything when he had joined the Paladins. He could have stayed on Hades, waited for the fighting to die down, then applied at any number of corporations. He was an experienced manager after all, with plenty of experience under his belt.

  “Captain, unidentified vessel detected. It just jumped in near the station construction site.” The crewman shut off the alarm, fingers tapping at the keys before them.

  “Bloody typical,” Mikal said. “Bring it up on the screen, let’s take a look at it. And begin charging the capacitor for the laser.”

  The screen at the front of the bridge flickered for a moment as it changed to footage from one of the Sunchaser’s telescopes. The newly arrived ship had the long tubular design of a jump ship. Rings spun around it on long arms, generating the illusion of gravity for those inside. Rather than the normal two, this ship had four rings, two at each end of its slender body. It was considerably bigger than a standard jump ship, almost twice the length. Impressive engines sat at the end, powerful spouts of energy that were pushing it towards the husk of the guild station.

  “That thing is huge,” Sergei said, staring at the footage. He had only seen a handful of jump ships in his life, but they had all been nearly identical. Even to his untrained eye, it was obvious that this was something different.

  “What the fuck is 'at thing?” Mikal gripped the arms of his chair, the padding of his spacesuit rustling as he did. “Evasive manoeuvres, full thruster burn. All ‘ands to battle stations.”

  “Aye, captain,” said the helmsman. “All hands, battle stations. Prepare for immediate combat evasion. Repeat, all hands, battle stations.”

  “Is that necessary, we don’t even know if they’re hostile or-”

  The Sunchaser shook, lights spluttering as there was a brief interruption of power. Red lights flashed on various consoles. Sergei felt the straps of his seat squeezing against him even through the spacesuit. He was suddenly glad that Mikal had insisted he strap in if he was going to be on the bridge.

  “Laser hit, port side aft. It punched through the armour but didn't breach beyond the outer deck.” The woman was reading from a screen before her, information flowing down it like a waterfall. “Section was empty at the time, no casualties, emergency bulkheads holding.”

  Mikal roared, angered at the damage to his ship. He turned to the small console next to him and began inputting commands. “Charge the jump drive. I’m inputting the coordinates now. That was a bloody hard hit for an opening salvo. This thing isn’t to be fucked with.”

  “We’re jumping out? What about our people on the ground?”

  “We aren’t any good to them if we’re bloody atoms, are we? Besides, we’re not going far.”

  “Thirty seconds until jump ready,” said the helmsman. He was tapping at his controls furiously. The ship’s evasion was handled mostly by its computer, but nothing a computer did was ever truly random. Given enough time enemy targeting systems could work out what the ship was going to do next. Every good helmsman knew to add their own manual commands to the mix to keep things confusing.

  “Jump immediately once it’s charged. Bird, that hit shouldn’t have cracked our armour so fast. That thing is bloody massive, and it’s got the firepower to match. What the hell kind of jump ship is armed like that?”

  “Jumping!”

  The Sunchaser winked out of existence, the reality-warping energies of its jump drive unleashed. The arcane devices bent space, making two locations one and the same for a brief moment. For that minuscule sliver of time, the Sunchaser existed in both places, and neither. When its grasp of the universe released, the ship reappeared at its destination instantly.

  That destination was only a short distance away. With the massive jump ship near the half-built station, the Sunchaser had materialised within meters of the now-empty hull, the station acting as a buffer between the vessels. It was an impressive degree of accuracy, a jump that was only possible from years of making ill-advised dangerous leaps in the name of profit and piracy.

  “Jump complete.” The helmsman said.

  “Keep the station between us and that big bastard. Hopefully, it'll stop them hitting us as hard.” Mikal pushed his hands together, his index fingers waggling as he thought. “We can't let that thing just hang around. Nothing to stop them copying our trick and blasting that base from orbit.”

  “So, what do we do?” Sergei said. He was thankful no one had been killed by the damage to the Sunchaser, but the cost of repairing the hull would be a big blow to the profitability of the operation. Sergei suspected that making money from this job was next to impossible now unless the ground team had secured a decent salvage haul.

  “We sink that ship. Not much else we can do.”

  “So, we try and win a fight against a ship that put a hole in us basically instantly. I’m no ship combat expert, hell I’m no combat expert of any kind, but how exactly are we going to do that?”

  “See, when you’re a pirate-”

  “We’re not pirates though,” Sergei said, interrupting Mikal’s words.

  “When you're a pirate,” Mikal continued, glaring at Sergei, “you learn to use what you've got to ‘and.” He pointed at the view screen; the half-built station floating on the monitor. It obscured the enemy ship totally. The view was oddly serene, despite the massive jump ship waiting to strike. “Status on that station? Any idea on what’s built and what isn’t?”

  “Half the outer hull has been constructed, Cap,” said a crewman. “Looks like they were working their way up from the bottom, I would bet the lowest few decks are liveable.”

  The station looked like an enormous tower, though from the Sunchaser's perspective it was perpendicular to the ship. The outer habitation ring hadn't been started yet, the construction focusing on the station's core.

  “What about weapons?”

  “There are at least four lasers installed on this side, but I would expect that to be mirrored on the other. Multiple missile batteries as well, but there’s no way of knowing if they’re loaded. The big problem is there doesn’t seem to be power, Captain.”

  Mikal unhooked the straps on his seat and planted his boots onto the deck, the magnets locking into place. He stood up, stretching his arms as he did. “Are the generators in place?”

  “I would assume so, Captain. Most stations keep them at the base of the main core. They’re probably just deactivated.” The crewman adjusted the image on the screen, the telescope pointing at the bottom of the station.

  “What does all this mean?” Sergei said. It was obvious Mikal was planning something.

  “You ever had a flat battery on your car?”

  “Who hasn’t?”

  “Well a neutrite reactor is the same as an engine, it needs a boost to get it started in the first place. Mechs, ships, they all carry batteries for this, big ‘eavy bastards too. But a station? It’s not designed to be without power. There are normally a couple of reactors and they take one offline at a time.” Mikal gestured at the view screen as he spoke. “If we want to deal with that prick of a jump ship out there, we’re going to need more firepower. The station ‘as it, but it’s going to need a jump start.”

  “Metaphorically?” Sergei said.

  “No, literally. There are probably small localised r
eactors running to give life support for the workers, but we need the big guns. We’re going to connect the ship to the station and get those reactors up and running.” Mikal tapped on the arm of the chair. “Get the Sunchaser here to give the power to start them up.”

  Sergei could hardly believe what he was hearing. They were hiding from the enemy, and Mikal wanted to hook up the ship to an unfinished station. “Isn’t that dangerous? I’m assuming the reactors are off for a reason.”

  “Probably, but do you have any other ideas? Sometimes all you’ve got is a wing and a bloody prayer.”

  ***

  Fourth looked at his panel, trying in vain to deduce where the enemy ship had gone. They had fired a shot and connected with its hull, and then the ship had simply vanished. There one moment, gone the next. He tapped the side of his station, a slip of annoyance escaping past his mental controls.

  “The enemy ship has…vanished, Brother-Captain. They are no longer appearing on our scopes.”

  First of the ninth joining leant forward in his seat. He allowed himself a brief moment of surprise, the illicit thrill of emotion. Cold logic took its place quickly, the possibilities flowing through his mind.

  “It would seem that our adversary has jumped away. It’s the only logical assumption. Wise of them to flee when outmatched. Is there any response from the facility on the ground?”

  Fourth turned in his chair, his magnetic boots clomping as he spun it. “No, Brother-Captain. The presence of an enemy vessel and a lack of contact would imply that they are under attack, would it not?”

  “You are correct, though tactical planning is outside of your responsibilities.”

  “My apologies.”

  “See it does not happen again,” First of ninth said. “The assault must be going well for our enemies if the lotus below does not respond. It is wise to assume that the base is lost. We will wait one hour past the allotted meeting time, then strike the base from orbit. Any dropships without the correct transponders are to be fired upon.”

  “Yes, Brother-Captain. What about the station?”

  First thought for a moment. He had thousands of hours of tactical experience implanted into his brain, the data of uncountable battles at his beck and call. It was a useful repository but had a severe unconsidered drawback. Innovation. As a First, he could reference an uncountable number of previous battles but struggled to consider things outside of the framework. It never occurred to First that the enemy could still be in the system, let alone floating just out of sight behind the shell of the space station.

  “Leave it. It’s no threat to us.”

  ***

  The Sunchaser adjusted its position, tiny blasts of thruster power edging it closer to the station. Standing in an open airlock, dwarfed by the size of both the ship and station, was Mikal. He was accompanied by two of his crew and Sergei, who had insisted on watching the operation. Sergei knew he was useful in a different way, but it was hard not to feel like a spare part in situations like this. At least by watching, he could learn something.

  “Right, this is nice and bloody simple. We walk twenty metres up the hull to the connection point, then all we have to do is make this ‘ere death-defying leap across from the Sunchaser to the station, pulling it behind us.” Mikal pointed down the side of the Sunchaser, then across to the station. “Then we need to connect it to the power grid on the station and boot up the reactors. Easy.”

  “Is there anything that could go wrong?” Sergei said. He didn’t like wearing the helmet, it felt claustrophobic.

  “Well, something could go wrong with our EVA packs, and we could go spinning off into space. Or the power grid could fail and fry us all, or the feedback could overload the Sunchaser’s grid. You know, standard deadly shit. All of those would give us away as well.”

  “Right, so like you said, easy,” Sergei said. To him, it seemed like Mikal was being worryingly casual.

  “Same shit, different day really.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Xander was lost in a maze, the hallways of the facility blending into one another as he searched frantically for his destination. Somewhere, deep in the labyrinthine corridors was the last of the construction crew, the rest transformed into Black Rose’s henchmen.

  The idea of it sickened Xander. Combining flesh and machines was taboo across known space, ancient myths of metal men during the collapse tainting the concept for centuries. Xander had himself been scorned for his implants, the necessary wetware to control a mechsuit considered too far by some. Despite that, to see people twisted by machines into something no longer truly human triggered a revulsion in him. Xander considered it a fate worse than death, to have your mind warped until you were someone else.

  “You doing ok there?” Xander said, his mind drifting to his unexpected companion. Atticus had been inside that pod for an unknown amount of time. His skin hadn’t gone pale like the others, but Xander didn’t know if he could trust him. His mind could be compromised.

  “As can be expected.” Atticus had put on a uniform stolen from the soldier Xander had slain. There was a bloodstain on the centre of the shirt where a round had found its way through the former owner’s ballistic vest. The outfit didn’t fit him properly, it was too tight around the chest and arms. “This pinches a bit,” he said, tugging at his shirt.

  “You’ll make do.” Xander pushed himself up against the corridor wall, his rifle tucked tight to his chest. They had reached another corner, the corridor turning sharply as it dug deeper into the ice. The sheer size of the base was impressive and Xander wondered how many of these hives Black Rose had secreted away across the Iron Belt. “So,” Xander said, peering around the corner, “what kind of mech do you ride?”

  “What?” Atticus touched the wetware above his eye. “Oh right. I don’t, this got put in by these arseholes. My company was infantry, ground pounders, though we could do space borne if we needed to. Seemed like a nice easy job, sitting around drinking beer whilst we watched over some construction workers. I mean, who attacks a guild station, right?”

  “Well, now we know. You’re talking in the past tense. We could still find some of your mates down here.”

  “Not likely. I was the last one taken. They nabbed the mercenaries first. Makes a sick kind of sense, probably the best people to convert, right?”

  “I don’t know about that. Every time I’ve fought Black Rose, they’ve seemed…amateur? For lack of a better word. Hell, they were using pirates as infantry the first time.” The corridor around the turn was clear, and Xander stepped around, his weapon still at the ready.

  “Once people are…turned, they don't seem to remember who they are. It's like their brain gets overridden. A whole new person, really. Still, a merc is normally in better shape than most. Probably better just…physically speaking.”

  “That’s a nightmare thought. You’re just looking at people like meat at that point.”

  Atticus simply shrugged. He didn’t disagree with Xander, but the inner workings of Black Rose were beyond him. “We should be getting close now. I think.”

  “You think?”

  “Well, it’s not like I was in my right mind when they dragged me to those pods. I was pumped full of drugs and straight out of surgery,” Atticus said, tapping the implants on his bare skull to make his point. He winced; the area was still sore. “I’m sorry I’m not more help.”

  “You’ve been plenty helpful. I imagine the guild is going to have a lot of questions for you once we get back, so, good luck with that. I don’t envy you there.”

  “Ugh, you’re right. Won’t get paid either. Pretty hard to spin all of…this, as a successful job.”

  “I think the guild will still cover you,” Xander said as he advanced through the corridor. “I mean let’s be honest, your guys were only there to make the workers feel safe. They didn’t expect any kind of attack either. Would be a bit shitty to leave you hanging on that. The guild’s not some corporation that’s going to hang you out to dry.”


  “Let’s hope no-” Atticus stopped himself mid-sentence, pulling his body close to the wall. The sound of voices echoed down the corridor from up ahead. Someone was coming.

  “Stay behind me,” Xander said. He had heard the same sound and mentally prepared himself for a fight. Glancing around quickly Xander searched for precious cover, he and Atticus were exposed where they were. Xander’s eyes settled on a doorway ahead of him. “Come on.”

  Xander rushed ahead, bringing himself alongside the door. He peered through the window on it and saw that the inside was filled with stationary stored on metal racks. Xander tried the handle but got only the loud clunk of the lock. He swung the butt of his rifle into the glass, striking it four times before it finally shattered. Reaching inside he unlocked the door, taking care not to cut himself on the jagged shards left in the frame. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  “Get in,” Xander said, beckoning to Atticus.

  “For a fumble in the supply closet? No offence mate, you're not my type.” Atticus followed Xander anyway, his words a poorly timed attempt at levity. The room was larger on the inside than he expected, three long racks of metal shelving standing with plenty of space between them. “Closet might be the wrong word. This is bigger than my bunk on the station was.”

  “Benefits of being able to build a base in secret I guess,” Xander said, shutting the door. He moved out of sight from the shattered window. “Get ready.”

  The voices were getting closer. They sounded frantic, arguing amongst themselves loudly.

  ***

  Sixth led the overseer onwards deep into the heart of the facility. As he had travelled more brothers and sisters had flocked to his side, along with a few other overseers. He was glad for the help, though the overseers had immediately begun arguing with each other. It was understandable, they weren’t like him and his kin. They still had their full range of emotions, nervousness emerging as discord from them. It didn’t matter, squabbling or not Sixth’s only desire was to see them escape safely.