Vanguard Galaxy

by Mars Dorian

  You airlocked your astonishing career out the carrier.

  Rosco wanted to cry blood.

  “I went to MAME. Check the records. My VR scores are off-world.”

  The left guard swung his baton. When Rosco evaded with a wide step, the other guard lanced his stick into his back. A sizzling sensation scorched through his blood. Rosco felt like he was burning alive. His body became a melting meatbag before the mind-numbing pain knocked him out. He hit the ground face first and shivered. Before his conscience faded, he saw one of the guards attaching e-cuffs to his wrists and felt himself being pulled across the floor. Back in the corridor, his peer officers and the servicemen peeked from their quarters and watched as Rosco was shame-dragged through the tight pathway. Thank tech the pain of the baton almost knocked him out for good. His vision darkened, just like the last thoughts that blasted through his neuron highways one last time.

  I’m a good captain…

  One of the best…

  It wasn’t fair.

  Wasn’t…

  fair…

  9

  Game over; as in, getting sl’ICED for good.

  Rosco should have seen it light-years away, but a part of him had believed his worth was higher than one order denial. Not with the Interstellar Colony and Earth Defense. That’s why Rosco wasn’t surprised when he left the ICED space station in a civilian outfit, carrying nothing but a stuffed gear pack and a grimace. The suborbital shuttle in hangar four sat waiting like a Lunar escort luring him in with broken Interstellar English, come back soldier, I bring you home. You gone long, long time.

  Along with two dozen passengers, he walked up the ramp and entered the vessel through the hatch. The interior was crammed with military personnel wearing civilian outfits. Were they all discharged, or simply going to visit their loved ones and guardians back on the ruby planet?

  Secretly, Rosco hoped for the former. Being the only one kicked out of ICED would be an even bitter blow to his ego. Through the tight window slit on his right side, he watched the proud space station disappearing into the darkness of the universe. The Red Bastion station was basically an upside down funnel with its iconic anti-grav ring structure on top. Rosco saluted the sight with a frown and switched his attention to the passengers next to him, all lost in daydreams. His neighboring passenger reeked of high percentage alcohol and noticed Rosco staring at him. “You look funny, sonny; what’s the matter?”

  “Discharged.”

  The drunk made a funny sound with his teeth that must have involved a lot of spit. His mouth shifted. “Hold on… are you Captain Tellride?”

  “I was.”

  “Damn, boy. It was all over the ICED news channel. My bad.”

  “No worries.”

  Rosco pushed his head against the hard back of the shuttle’s seat. The drunk had no ounce of social grace because he kept on mumbling. “You have orgies with minors, you get a warning. You blow up a cartel’s drug storage, you get discharged. Seriously, you got ICED.”

  Wasn’t that simple, as ranking played a huge role on the degree of punishment. But hey, let’s not cry over the details. Any positive words about the colonial defense’s cesspool wasted precious oxygen.

  “Yeah, I got ICED for good,” Rosco said with a bitter smile.

  Rapport between him and the stranger just leveled up. Mutual frustration was still the quickest way to build connections. Too bad the stranger’s breath burned any hope of a long-term friendship. Rosco hoped the stench wouldn’t eat through the shuttle’s hulls.

  The stranger said, “Tell you what, when we get back on Ares City, I’ll take you to the hottest bar under the dome. We'll get crushed under holo-rains of three-titted ladies.”

  “I don’t drink alcohol.”

  “What?”

  The man looked as if a mutant frog was waltzing over his face. Rosco realized his point was clear enough for the drunk’s fogged up mind. “I need to stay sharp. Any substance that dulls my brain is a no-go, and alcohol’s the second worst membrane smasher after Burrn. Did you know that more officers have been injured by high-percentage booze than ultra-velocity bullets?”

  The explanation didn’t help really; the stranger still looked as if Rosco had unleashed the blasphemy of the new century. No surprise there—most military personnel liked alcohol, and not just off duty.

  The drunk’s next words tumbled out. “Well, if you change your mind, give me a ping. We’re just a tube-ride away.”

  That was true.

  But seeing the drunk man next to him, with his eyes all saggy, the nose swollen like a crimson tumor, Rosco’s desire for a bar hangout just dropped to subzero. And given the recent event, social politeness took a backseat as well.

  “We both know that’s never going to happen.”

  The drunk swallowed hard. He found sudden interest in some invisible spot in the opposite direction of Rosco.

  Whatever.

  The ex-captain closed his eyes and tuned out. He tried to push away his memories of the recent past. Despite what the commander had said Rosco was going to see M again. That connection was stronger than the chain of command. It was stronger than a nano-tubed exoskeleton with graphite enhancements. For now though, he had to cool his engines. After all, Rosco was going back to the planet that gave him birth. The planet that had launched his ICED career.

  The one and only…

  10

  Mars.

  The Daystellar flagship carrier orbited the red planet. Freshly appointed CEO, Lo-Skova, swiveled in her ergo chair and admired her new office. She had to admit, the studio was as impressive as the board of directors had promised: minimalist, white organic design at its best. The walls offered extractable freezers, beds, and even holo-enhanced features that could reproduce every landscape known to human imagination. At the moment, Lo-Skova had chosen the Himalayan skyscape, including the soothing sound of the brushing wind. The holographic azure sky and snow-covered mountains on the walls seemed to triple the size of her office, which helped her keep a clear head. Lots of important matters were on her plate today.

  It had been only three months since she had become the new CEO of the intergalactic conglomerate, but it felt like she had worked here for aeons. The first weeks consisted mainly of getting to know the top level management. She also had to deal with current problems that plagued a corporate existence spanning over various planets and asteroids. Between the social minefield maneuvering and the fire extinguishing, she could finally concentrate on the bigger picture. The grandest venture of Daystellar’s timeline so far.

  Lo-Skova checked the financial forecast of the various subsidiaries that belonged to the megacorp. Especially the asteroid mining yield that had increased all over the solar system, despite the ancient catastrophe that haunted the company’s public image like a child-molesting uncle. But that was one of the main reasons why the board of directors had chosen her as the new leader—to return Daystellar to its former glory of technical innovation and public popularity.

  Challenge accepted.

  Even though that meant leaving her beloved home planet to relocate to the dead void of space. Ah well, at least Lo-Skova’s new residence came with enhanced holo-walls. She kept the Himalayan landscape online and switched to her personal display. She remote flipped through her priority selection of channels until the breaking news from the ICED military channel caught her attention.

  Young captain Rosco Tellride was discharged from the fleet for disobedience. Lo-Skova dove deeper into the classified report. Only vague personal reasons were cited for the captain’s release; surely there was something going on that wasn’t supposed to surface. ICED—despite being the biggest government organization known to humanity—always kept their most important issues hidden from the public. Ridiculous, considering how many trillions of tax credits they took from the colonies. And yet, despite that lack of transparency, their public image was still beaming favorable—unlike Daystellar’s.

  That was going to change soon. />
  Rosco Tellride, Lo-Skova said under her mint-tasting breath as she observed the 3D avatar of the young captain. The man carried a certain je ne sais quoi.

  You’re a round capacitor in a square plug-in, aren’t you?

  Lo-Skova relaxed into the chair and intertwined her manicured fingers as she watched the military man’s profile. Every cell of the CEO’s body smiled; at least that’s how it felt as a sparkling sensation jostling through her veins. She had finally found the missing person for her secret operation, ‘Project Vanguard’…

  11

  Rosco Tellride reached the ground level of the Martian spaceport and targeted the terminal section with the loop platform. Thousands of people, locals and visitors alike, stormed through the multi-floored complex. Although it was home for Rosco, no one came to pick him up. That was the price of being a military workaholic; staying on the front 24/7 meant social connections didn’t suffer—they didn’t exist in the first place. But Rosco wasn’t concerned about his lack of friends; the Sunblood assault mission still whirled around his mind. A part of him regretted having blown up the Burrn tanks, the rest felt deep satisfaction. High Command should have been grateful. A life for ICED, and they thanked him with an immediate discharge. How could they ever claim loyalty from their best people if they failed to show it themselves? The thought infuriated him.

  Rosco forgot about the busy environment and unconsciously ignored the girl walking up to him with glowing eyes. “Are you Captain Tellride? THE Captain Tellride?”

  Rosco looked left and right and shrugged. “No, I’m his low-bred brother.”

  The girl with the short-trimmed hair wore an overall with the ICED logo branded on her chest. A tagline below read, ‘Getting ICED for life’.

  Rosco frowned. The damn organization now propagated their services to minors; maybe because the adults weren’t buying into their hokey promises anymore. Many sols before, Rosco would have been delighted about the kid’s swoon. But that joy made way for a bitter taste that corrupted his mouth. “What do you want, kiddo?”

  “I want to freeze this moment with you. One fine day, I’m gonna be an ICED captain just like you.”

  “I’m not a captain anymore.”

  The girl froze to the spot and shifted her mouth. The initial wonder swapped for bewilderment. Spreading false propaganda for ICED was the last thing on Rosco’s troubled mind.

  “But you command ICED cruisers, no? I’ve seen it on the feeds,” the girl said.

  “They fired me for doing my job. If you really want to work for a criminal organization, apply to Sunblood. Same morals, easier admission.”

  The girl sulked. “You can’t say that; ICED are heroes.”

  “Keep on dreaming, darling.”

  Not his best moment, that was for sure. The girl squeezed her face and marched away, probably fan-traumatized for the rest of her life. Rosco couldn’t care less. He hated all that public persona crap, pretending to be a likable person in the limelight of the media. His job was to be effective, to lead, to get results.

  One hundred hours of media sensitivity training were lost on him. The teary girl had vanished in the crowds. Rosco stepped into the tube capsule, leaned into the vertical seat, and waited for it to shut automatically. The board’s AI sounded the second the hatch closed. “Thank you for traveling with Pipedream, the number one private transportation service on Mars. Where would you like to go today?”

  Rosco’s first choice was to visit the ’fun and forget’ district near the financial district, to blow off some steam, maybe even have a drink. But then he remembered the drunk from the suborbital shuttle flight and cringed. Distraction and substance abuse wasn’t going to solve this. He needed to tackle his problems head on.

  “Take me to the nearest ICED recruitment center in the industrial zone.”

  He fastened his seat belt and felt the propulsion of the capsule as it flushed through the pipe system. The push of almost half a G pressed against his body. Before he knew it, he arrived at the platform, one hundred and fifty meters away from the ICED recruitment center. An industrial sector, which bordered the financial district, was almost as barren as the Martian landscape before the colonization. Gray factory buildings and bridges dominated the view.

  Rosco walked the ground floor pavement of the multi-layered urban layout. Sky bridges over his head connected the block-shaped smart buildings as they shifted their wall plates. Way above them towered the dome shield of Ares City—basically a second sky that protected its citizen from the thinning, hostile atmosphere of Mars. Rosco realized why he preferred the void of the universe; despite its even deadlier climate, it was vast and open ended. A feeling of freedom flooded him whenever he flew through the cosmic ocean. Down on Mars, with the efficient but tight infrastructure, he felt like a worm getting squeezed by giant cubes. Rosco crossed his fingers and hoped to rejoice with space again, but knew that depended on his upcoming performance. He finally reached the entrance to the ICED recruitment center. An old-fashioned sign over the entrance read: Interstellar Colony and Earth Defense.

  Two security guards with depressor sticks lurked. An anti-riot raptor unit crawled on all its cybernetic fours and patrolled the area. Rosco breathed in and targeted the doors when one of the guards held out his D-stick like a lance. “Can I help you, sir?”

  “I want to have a private session with a recruiter.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “I rather show up in person.”

  “Doesn’t work this way.”

  The left guard gasped. “Hold on a sec, I’ve seen you before.”

  He scanned Rosco with his wristband and checked. Damn. Rosco hoped to avoid that, but the officer was quicker than him.

  “I knew it. You’re that cocky captain that blew up the Burrn factory. Got you fired goood.”

  “I’ll give you an autograph if you let me through.”

  Both men chuckled. Rosco saw their heavy armor plates moving with their bodies. Since when did security look like colonial ground-pounders?

  “Sorry, man. Can’t let you through.”

  “I’m a Martian citizen who has a constitutional right to request information about joining the forces.”

  “Not anymore. According to the database, you’re temporarily banned from entering ICED-owned institutions and its subsidiaries.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “It’s law. Better respect it,” the big guard said as he played with his depressor stick. Tension impregnated the air. The anti-riot raptor left his route and crawled toward him with its torso stretched. A menacing beep sound echoed from his speaker system. Rosco knew the bots came with built-in weaponry, such as PHASR cannons that made your blood boil on a sensory level. Rosco had no desire to get zapped tonight.

  The left guard raised his armor-plated chest and said, “Ten seconds, son, before little Johnny rips you a new one.”

  The thugs were horny for violence. Where the hex did ICED hire them—the Midland maximum security facility?

  Rosco made his final decision.

  12

  “I wish you an uneventful day consisting of pointless standing around and mind-numbing conversations,” he said.

  “Get lost, you civvie scum licker.”

  Rosco left their hot zone and targeted the path back to the loop platform. He walked in reverse to keep his eyes on the two thugs and their robot guard dog. Idiots with that amount of aggression were capable of anything. The last thing Rosco wanted to experience was getting ripped apart by an anti-riot raptor. He doubled his speed and jogged toward the tube capsule. Back inside, the AI played her usual service shtick. “Thanks for coming back. Where would you like to go now?”

  “Residential Sector C7, section 8.”

  “Understood. That will be nine ninety-five iC for the flush, okay?”

  Rosco swallowed his spit. “The last time it cost only six ninety-five iC.”

  “Two words, sir: supply and demand.”

  “Fine, book it f
rom my account.”

  Thankfully, ICED hadn’t completely abandoned him, yet. They paid him an adequate compensation that would last him for the rest of this cycle. A little drop of ‘gratitude’ in an ocean of frustration.

  The capsule thrust through the semi-transparent pipes. Rosco watched the cube-shaped buildings and sky parks under the super dome of Ares City. He even recognized new venues, like the multi-leveled farm-scraper and the floating platforms. This city grew by the sol, offering more and more means to spend credits under ever tightening quarters. Rosco almost forgot that Mars had become the most popular colony in the solar system, which meant a flourishing local economy and skyrocketing real estate prices. At least his living quarters were still subsidized by the government, if only for a while.

  He hoped his ‘old’ home was still available…

  13

  Rosco arrived at the living quarters on the rim section of Ares City. Probably the most boring part of the colonial cluster, since there wasn’t much to see besides cube-shaped apartments in hexagon-styled blocks. Granted, you could find a few bars and distraction stores squeezed in-between the urban jungle, and a few artificial flower bed sections on the bridges that connected each block, but that was pretty much it. A single street in Ares’ core district offered more life than the entire sector here, but hey, at least you didn’t have to pulverize your savings to pay for a single month of oxygen supply. Besides, Rosco was a self-proclaimed Spartan. Fresh air and holo porn was all he needed to survive as a civilian.

  Rosco arrived in the lobby of his habitat block and waddled toward the lonely reception desk. The service bot craned its androgynous head and scanned the ex-captain the second he touched the counter. “Mr. Tellride, it is a pleasure to see you in one piece again. How may I help you?”

  “I’m gonna stay home for a while and see if everything’s all right with the rent and all.”

  The bot checked the database in a matter of milliseconds. “Yes, I see. Tellride quarters, level eleventh, west-wing floor D-twelve. The cleaner bots have just finished prepping your space, sir.”