The Iron War: A Xander Cain Novel

by P W Hillard

  Lost tech was rare, incredibly so, and a find like this was enough to keep a corporation in the black for decades to come. There weren't any guarantees any of the items did anything. The value of lost tech was in the promise, the chance that it could be some powerful technology lost to the ravages of the collapse. It could just as easily be the ancient equivalent of a toaster. For some, it was worth that chance, the ultimate gamble.

  The mechsuit was different though. It was something major. An incredible find. A lost tech machine had been the basis for all modern mechsuits, careful study of its design laying the foundations for centuries afterwards. The first attempts at replicating it had been crude. Slow lumbering things that had a propensity to trip. Xander’s education had included long lectures about the history of warfare, and he knew the first few mechs had manual controls. They had been written off as a curiosity, considered useless in an actual battle. After all, why bother with complex legs and arms when a tank could traverse most terrain and carry heavier guns? It was only after the wetware connection between rider and suit was discovered did mechsuits prove their worth. A tank couldn’t dodge, jump, or roll. It couldn’t dig a trench or pick up an opponent’s weapon once it was out of ammo. The versatility of the human form providing mechsuits with the vital edge they needed.

  “I have an idea,” Alexi said, his mech taking up position at the front left of the loader. He had managed to pry the broken arm from his weapon, discarding the shattered limb to the ground. “You’re probably not going to like it though.”

  “This whole day is proving to be a bit of a shit-show, so let’s hear it,” Xander said. “I’ll take any ideas at the moment, good or bad.”

  “I think we don’t head for the elevator. Not yet. We’re way too in the dark about what’s going on. We need to get some intel. Some idea of what we’re up against. I think we take a diversion. Rather than just stumble on ahead.”

  “That sounds reasonable, but how in the hell are we going to do that? Everyone seems just as confused as we are.” Xander said. “I'm not a fan of taking longer than we need to.”

  “I didn’t think you would be. I do have an idea of where to go.” Alexi fell out of position, stepping across the street towards a metal pole embedded in the pavement, street signs hanging from it like branches from a tree. He prodded one with the tip of his weapon causing the thin metal to wobble briefly. The sign read “Hades Entertainment Studios.”

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “It’s the studios for the local webcasts. The news, a few dramas, that kind of thing,” Sergei said.

  “Exactly,” Alexi said, tapping the sign again. “If this is where they make the local news, then this is where all kinds of reports, footage and who knows what else is ending up. If we want to get a better idea of what’s happening, this seems like a good place to try.”

  “That sort of makes sense.” Xander’s voice was faint, drowned out by his apprehension. “So, you expect to just turn up at this studio and knock and ask politely?”

  “Why not? If that doesn’t work, we do have guns.”

  ***

  The studio was built like a fortress. High stone walls cutting it off from the high rises around it, a screen of concrete and rebar from the world outside. It had a set of large metal gates, flat-panel things that were sealed shut. Security cameras gazed down from the pillars holding the gate, their vision focused on the assembled suits before them. Xander gave them a wave, a motion that felt strange in his war machine.

  “Hello?” Xander said, piping his voice through an external speaker on his suit. “Uh, can we come in? I guess? This is all pretty unusual.”

  The cameras shifted as if they were taking his measure.

  “No, go away,” a voice said. It was a woman’s, though it was hard to tell, the sound distorted by the ancient intercom speaker it rattled out of.

  “Look, we just want to get the lay of the land, work out what’s going on. We know you do newscasts from here, so we figured you would have some insights. We're not hostile, otherwise, we wouldn't be knocking on the door and asking.”

  “Still no. You being here would make us a target. It’s bad out there.”

  “Yes, but why? Look it won’t take long. It’s taken us an hour to get here,” Xander said, gesturing to the overburdened loader behind him. “That’s an hour out of the way we need to go. So, two hours total.

  “Listen here, whoever you are-”

  “Xander Cain, freelancer. We’re guild mercs.”

  “Cain? Like that Xander Cain?”

  “Yes, that one,” Xander replied. No matter where he went, rumours about him seemed to follow.

  There was a fevered whispering creeping through the intercom, the words intelligible through the distortion. “Ok, we’ll let you in. We have a few conditions though. We’ll speak to you in our main building. Two people max, on foot, no weapons. One of them has to be you, Xander.”

  “Oh no.” Xander knew where this was going.

  “The second condition is we want an interview. The truth about why you left the family company.”

  Xander sighed. There it was. He had avoided discussing the incident publicly for years, dodging reporters and inquisitive mercenaries alike. “Ok, fine. Fine. But a quick one, and I’m stopping it if I want.”

  More whispering leaked through the speaker. “Ok. Deal. Gates are opening now, park your suits in the forecourt and head into the main building, on the right.”

  The metal creaked open, hinges squealing a protest at being awoken. Xander lifted the arm of his mech, palm held up flat. He waved the hand forward, signalling the convoy to advance. The mechsuits strode through, the loader slowly trundling as it followed. The gates close behind them, snapping shut as the loader passed through. From here, Xander could see they were more for show than anything, thin sheet metal that wouldn't have kept a single suit out if it really wanted to get in.

  “Ok, so, I'll go in, Sergei comes with me. The rest of you stay out here and keep watch. This place only looks defended. It couldn't keep out a plastic bag if it wanted to." Xander's mech walked towards the main building, a squat three-storey structure that ran the length of the compound. A large dish sat atop it, a good sign that they might at least have some useful information.

  The rest of the compound was mostly flat asphalt, though two buildings with curved roofs sat across from the main building. They looked like a giant paint can had been cut in half to form the matching pair. Xander was reminded of small aircraft hangers he had seen during a job on an agricultural world.

  “What, I don’t get to go?” Alexi said, his suit following Xander’s, metal feet clomping loudly. Light glinted across the surface of the machine as Alexi walked. A set of floodlights had come on, the natural light starting to fade. They were losing the day, their diversions adding up.

  “She said two people, and honestly, if something happens, we need as many operable suits as possible. Sergei comes with me, in case having someone corporate comes in useful.” Xander’s suit crouched to one knee, planting its left hand to the ground. There was a low hiss as the armour opened, sliding forward to reveal the cabin within. Xander stepped out and stretched his arms wide. Muscle cramps were a real problem for riders, it was easy to forget to move your physical limbs when connected to the suit.

  “I guess?” Alexi said, his disappointment clear. “Let me know what it's like inside. Always wanted to visit a studio like this, see how webcasts get made.”

  Xander tossed the ladder down the left side of his suit, along the now rigid arm. “I’ll pick you up a brochure or something.”

  ***

  The inside of the building was almost unbearably glitzy. The walls were a freshly painted white and dotted with dozens of lights. They shimmered over every surface, seemingly annihilating all shadows. Immediately before the entrance was a massive desk, a circular thing that filled the reception area. A white plastic doughnut that dominated the reception. It had a single divot in the front where a comp
uter screen sat. It was empty at the moment, but Xander could imagine a receptionist sat there, dwarfed by the furniture around them. Opposite the behemoth thing was a row of white leather chairs, bucket seats attached to chrome legs. They looked incredibly uncomfortable. On each side of the desk was a set of turnstiles, security barriers controlling the people entering and exiting. Beyond them was a set of stairs rising to the floor above.

  “So, do we ring the bell or what?” Xander said. He had stepped through the doorway with Sergei in tow. Xander had expected some complaints from the corporate lackey, but he had been surprisingly open to it.

  “It does seem a bit quiet doesn’t it?” Sergei said. He had tightened his tie and rolled up the sleeves to hide the creases. A black jacket had appeared from somewhere, his company name emblazoned on the chest.

  “Mr Cain!” a woman's voice said from the top of the stairs. It lacked the dull static of the intercom, but it was the same woman who had greeted them at the gate. She teetered down the stairs on a pair of six-inch heels, a white blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt. She clutched a tablet in her arms, cradling it like a baby. She had short black hair cut into a bob.

  “That’s me,” Xander said.

  The woman crouched as she reached the turnstile, tapping a square of plastic held around her neck with a lanyard to the machine. It opened, allowing her through. “Tamara Pierce,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Xander took it. “This is Sergei, uh…I can’t remember what his last name is.”

  “Bird. Sergei Bird.” He pushed Xander’s hand out of the way, slotting his own into the handshake. “Heliustech representative.”

  “Oh, I expected a pair of mercenaries.”

  “Yes, well, I decided keeping as many outside as possible was pertinent. Wouldn’t want us to feel unsafe now would we.” Sergei’s words seemed to physically drip with grease as they left his lips. “I feel it only fair we get access to what we're after before I hand over one of my best mercenaries to you. You do understand that you won't get much time with him? We have valuable work to complete.”

  “Sergei is right,” Xander said. It didn’t slip his notice how Sergei had somehow given the impression he was commanding the operation. Xander was willing to let it slide, seeing as how Sergei was also trying to weasel out of having to do the interview.

  “Oh, ok, well I suppose. We better get started then,” Tamara said.

  “Thank you, Mrs Pierce.”

  “Miss, please. Follow me, gentlemen,” Tamara said, pressing her card to the turnstile. “We can save some time if we skip makeup.”

  The Web- A marvel of the modern age!

  Excerpt from Brief History of Known Space by Doctor Ira Cunningham.

  Considered the greatest invention in the recent history of man by some (though mechsuit aficionados might disagree), planetary wide computer networks, generally known as “The Web”, allow for anyone with an active connection to access unlimited communication, entertainment and information. Complex systems of distributed data storage allowing for even the smallest devices to access the system, Web access is considered as necessary as power and water by many.

  Because of the nature of interstellar travel, each planet has its unique Web, its own ecology of forums, shows and information. More developed systems might have an interplanetary network, but these are rare and even then, the delayed information can be an issue. Many enterprising individuals make a living transporting popular data files from one system to the other, ensuring that hit movies and shows spread across known space. These data merchants are not well regarded, and whilst many are legitimate businessmen, there is a not-insignificant number of illegal “data pirates” known to sell stolen goods. There have even been reports of ships being raided specifically for the files they carry.

  As with all things in modern life, the Web is a highly commercialised place. Most corporations operating on a planet run large online shopfronts. Even on worlds entirely controlled by a single company, imports from off-world corporations facilitated by merchants acting as middlemen and run through the Web is extremely common. Web purchasing accounts for nearly all consumer spending on most worlds.

  The Web is ubiquitous, it is everywhere, a very literal connection between every human living, from the core to the furthest fringes. There is however one very important segment of society that eschews widespread use of the Web. The military.

  During the early development of space, colony ships heading out into the stars carried meagre defence forces. Simple rugged standing armies that functioned as guards and security for the colonists as they spread across the surface of their chosen world. As these worlds developed and their forces by necessity expanded, integration with the growing Web networks was an obvious choice.

  This proved to be a significant problem in the early days of the Corporate Wars. Communications lines, command systems and in some cases even mechsuits were easily hacked and put offline. As a result, modern forces, military and mercenary alike, choose to keep their equipment off any kind of network, relying instead on old fashioned radios, laser communications and even hand flares and flags on some circumstances.

  The Web is not without its critics. There have been movements on multiple planets that have campaigned against it, claiming that it is no different from combining man and machine, a topic that is still strongly taboo on most worlds. The exact size and nature of these groups range from small meetings to mobs with an almost religious fervour. On at least three occasions these groups have even committed terrorist attacks. The frequency of these movements appearing would imply that it is a worry shared by only a small portion of the population.

  Regardless of any worry, the value of the Web to modern society is undeniable, its benefits far outweighing any concerns a handful of dissidents may have. It is the foundation of commerce and communications, a vital pillar in society. Constantly growing and expanding, it is almost a living breathing thing, a symbiotic organism supporting our own species as it evolves.

  Notable Web Related Events

  - The trading ship Charon disconnects from its jump ship and is almost immediately ambushed once it is clear. Large amounts of data files, a collection of movies, is stolen from its holds as it is boarded. The ship is left adrift and empty. Records from onboard show that the crew willingly agree to work with its raiders after they show them the value of the goods on the black market. This becomes the first recorded instance of data piracy.

  - When a solar flare hits Guan Yin the planet’s web is completely disabled. Stores are forced to hire empty offices, selling their wares in person to people on the street. Trade between people is reduced to banks issuing slips of paper with pre-determined values. It proves a popular method, and “paper money” is still used on Guan Yin today, even with its Web restored.

  - The jump capable battleship Ajax engages a group of enemy destroyers in 1092, early in the Corporate Wars. In one of the first examples of network vulnerability, one of the destroyers manages to upload a trojan virus onto the Ajax that disables it. The massive battleship is destroyed with all hands.

  - The people of Liber stage a revolution and cast out corporate control. They hold a democratic election. The rightful corporate owners of the world stage a mass advertising campaign on the Web. The result was so successful that the corporation's candidate sweeps into power and immediately reinstates corporate control.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tamara led them up the staircase onto the second floor. The open reception area immediately gave way to a series of tight corridors, beige wooden doorways leading to clusters of what Xander assumed were offices. It was noticeably dingier than the first floor, the walls a faded yellow, the carpet worn and frayed. Out of sight from the public, every credit that could be saved had been. Tamara vanished through one of the doorways, her arm reappearing to beckon the two men through. Sergei pushed past, his chest pumped up, his back arched in an attempt to look as big as possible. Xander couldn't help but smile at it. Despite Sergei'
s insistence that corporations and mercenaries were the same, the posturing would have gotten him laughed out of any guildhall.

  Xander stepped through, the door slamming shut behind him, an overeager sprung loaded arm nipping at his heels. The room was a strange mixture of light and dark, squares of light cast from a bank of monitors painted in the gloom. Two men were sitting in the room, the shadows dancing around their faces, the light from the screens making them look like children holding torches under their chins. They were looking at the monitors, watching a dozen different incoming feeds.

  “Mitch, Trevor, this is Xander Cain and Sergei…Birch was it?” Tamara said, gesturing behind herself, tablet tucked beneath her arm.

  “Bird,” Sergei said, almost visibly deflating.

  “Right, sorry. This is my crew. Mitch is normally a cameraman and Trevor is a grip. We’re a bit short on the ground currently. Most people left when things started kicking off, either for bunkers they’ve rented or just to go home.”

  “Hard to blame them,” Mitch said. He had a voice like granite and the arms to match, a tree trunk of a man with a thick mat of dark hair seemingly on every surface. “I only stayed because this place has a gate and a wall. It was either that or my apartment, and that place is already falling apart as is.”

  “I know right? Mine’s a piece of crap as well. It’s like no-one gives a shit anymore. What’s the other option, live on the street and get picked up by whatever security force patrols that block? No thanks.” Trevor shook his head, his long mop of curled brown hair swishing as he did. He was wiry, a thin man seemingly made of all tendon. A spider-monkey shaved bald except for the hair and a small unkempt goatee.

  “So, you decided to stick it out here? People deserve the news, right?” Sergei said.

  “Fuck no,” Tamara said. The language was slightly shocking from a woman who looked like the definition of an uptight executive. “I’m a producer, I care about one thing, and that’s the bottom line. Putting out casts right now is going to get us millions of views! It’s a prime opportunity. I don’t care what we put out if people are watching it.”