The Operation Cyclops Gambit

"You won’t be coming back. You know that, right? You know this is a suicide mission, right?" Suzanne’s voice was more high pitched than usual, but yeah, I know I am making a one-way trip.

I flex the finger joints on the left hand of my power armour suit, balling them up into a fist. "I mean there won’t be any recovery operation. No rescue if it all goes wrong."

I nod, and ask her to check the hydraulic level in my secondary leg servos.

"No medical services if you’re injured or…" I stop my ammo count and meet her gaze. Soft blue eyes. Why do you care? If you knew the truth about me, just a fraction, would you be so concerned for my well being?

"You can pretend to be sick, or there could be a malfunction in the main comp…please Sebastian – "

I shake my head. I have a job to do. I return to my armour’s pre-start check-up sequence. Is Suzanne crying? I try to avoid meeting her gaze again.

"Bastard. Why do you treat me so?"

What does she mean? I don’t understand. What does this technician think she is to me?

I step away and shrug. My armour’s systems clatter noisily as they try to mimic an action they were never designed for. Suzanne looks at the floor. I turn away and enter the transport alcove, flexing my neck joint to work the seals in, but they won’t be needed as I will be fighting on an earth-type planet.

I look at Suzanne one last time. She is crying. I am surprised I feel something for her after all.

I open my mouth to say something comforting but it is too late: the transport beam has been activated and my words are carried away in the matter stream.

Within seconds I am there, transport complete. The Imperial soldier I have come face to face with just stares at me in surprise. It is understandable: The Imperium hasn’t fought my people for over two centuries, and this is a backwater world, a tourist planet.

His helmet has no faceplate - the Imperium doesn’t use poison gas weapons anymore. Before he can react, I crush his skull by jamming it against the wall with the palm of my left hand, his helmet squashing like a discarded tin can: The power armour suit I wear is many times stronger than a normal man, and the computer augmentation makes it six times faster.

He dies without uttering a word, but somehow I or one of my squad has been detected: the wail of an alarm siren sounds throughout the complex. The mission briefing told us about the location of this facility, right next door to the Imperial Guard Landing Zone. We have only minutes before starmarines start arriving, followed by power-armoured imperial starfleet infantry.

Then we really will be dead.

I head for the door guided by my computer. It superimposes a digital map in the corner of my vision through our implanted interface link.

"This way! Unknown power armour in the plant room! Hurry!" Their cries of alarm tell me they’ve sighted my squad, not me. The distraction is working. I head for the transport shield centre. I can’t stop thinking of Suzanne. Strange I never even really noticed her before…

The guard’s pistol burst takes me off-guard. I wasn’t concentrating, damn it! The steel flechettes patter off my armour, turned from lethal metal spikes capable of ripping a man apart at close range, to harmless flattened disks that resemble the old currencies we abandoned long ago.

I level my laser cannon at him but he keeps firing, his darts splintering from my helmet now, like drops of rain. Idiot! My laser flashes and I think of Suzanne again, her blonde hair, the curve of her small breasts...The soldier's arm is severed above the elbow. He collapses with a horrified scream.

I do not care. Instead I turn away and I am at the door to the shield room, my destination.

I smash my fist into the door and the thin metal splits. In moments I will complete my mission. In my ears I can hear my comrades screaming, dying: the enemy reinforcements are here. Why do I keep thinking of Suzanne?

"Someone give me their view! My optics are busted!" The voice barks in my ear from the squad comm system. Its Trent, my number two. He is a good man, a good cook, a good husband and father. I can hear the bark of his assault cannon from the other side of the complex, it is the only projectile weapon our squad carries.

Fascinated, I tune into his view. It is distorted due to damage, and the flash of his gatling weapon is in danger of blinding him as he cuts a swathe through the mass of imperial marines that swarm towards him.

Suddenly the view changes, another of my men has activated his view and now I see the scene repeated, this time from down the corridor showing the imperials on the verge of over-running Trent's position. Its bad, but we've nearly won...

Shit! The gauss shell hits me in the back and exits my chest. My right lung is destroyed, my computer reliably informs me. Shit! The pain, agony…combat drugs and armour systems keep me alive but I know I’m fucked.

My rear viewer shows Imperial power armour behind me, gauss rifle still trailing telltale blue plasma that seems to link us together. I raise my weapon to fire back – the pain, the blood in my mouth, I can’t concentrate. The Imperial fires again, something explodes in my face…it’s the ground, I’m on the ground and I can’t fucking breath…I’ve failed, can’t talk, can’t…Suzanne…I love you…

The Imperial towers above me now. I wish the bastard was dead, but he just looks at me. Is he me? Is there a Suzanne waiting for him, back at base, too? I want to ask, but he just points that damn gauss rifle at my head.

Bastard!

Suzanne, I lo-