Vanguard Galaxy

by Mars Dorian

  Drowning while breathing; it was a morbid miracle.

  Whoever constructed the technology deserved to die of solar radiation on slow burn. Seriously, humanity could travel across the galaxy, build androids and fleet carriers, but somehow sucked on the FTL aspect? Or maybe someone powerful in science carried a mean and sadistic streak. Either way, Rosco’s pulse returned to normal as his body adapted to the liquid environment. The thoughts in his mind decelerated. Thousands of ideas became a dozen. Mind and body became a heavy lump.

  Before Rosco tuned out, he crossed his mental fingers for a safe flight. He trusted eQuip’s expertise since she was essentially a computer herself, but he feared an outside threat. Some rogue elements lurked in space and waited to attack a single vessel without warning. It wasn’t paranoia—with a quadrant as unexplored as the rim, anything was possible.

  25

  In the perfect darkness, Rosco’s mind drifted into limbo. Information bits shot along his neural highways and battered his brain. Everything he had to know about the ship and the mission became a part of his sub-consciousness—the schematic layout of the Vanguard; the ship’s arms technology and life support system; the function of each core element, ranging from the bridge terminal to the TemCom Drive’s reactor components.

  For a while, it seemed like Rosco and the Vanguard became one, like star sisters from another mother.

  Mind and material merged before the connection cut-off abruptly…

  26

  Darkness became sublight.

  Rosco puked out the remaining anti-g cream solution. It streamed down from his orifices—ears, nostrils, mouth, and parts you don’t want to talk about. Rosco felt like a human piñata, slapped into compliance, blessed with a spirit then punched down, only to be reanimated yet again. The techtoos on his body already eased the waking process through their nanobot control.

  “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  The pleasant voice channeled through his ears as his eyes adjusted to the inner dome of the ship’s command bridge. Where was he again? Ah yeah—the memory hit his frontal cortex like a MagLev train.

  He was Rosco Tellride.

  Captain of the DSS Vanguard.

  Creamed and now back online.

  The cables sucked out the solution from his pod. Rosco straightened his spine and noticed his crew members experiencing the same issues. Yeltzin coughed, Ming shook her body and shivered like a patient suffering from electro-buzz, and engineer Ekström…

  He wasn’t even in his pod.

  Hold on, that wasn’t right.

  When Rosco regained the ability to speak, he said, “Where’s the techie?”

  eQuip’s soothing voice sounded from behind. “He’s in the R&D membrane of the ship, preparing new techtoos for the mission. I initiated his wake-up sequence earlier to save mission time.”

  Rosco wasn’t going to tell anyone, but he had secretly hoped the engineer was too weak to make it. The ‘genius’ seemed more of a nuisance than anything else. It was a mistake letting the man onboard without further team management training. Even ICED gave their crews at least a month of mutual preparation before a dispatch.

  But now Rosco checked on the status of his crew. “Everything okay?”

  Ming spoke first. “I feel a bit slow, Captain, but I’ll manage in no time.”

  Yeltzin sounded more upbeat. “I’m fine, Captain. No physical damage as far as I can tell.”

  “Optimal.”

  Rosco focused his attention on eQuip again. She was still embedded into the central terminal section of the bridge as she connected with every system onboard. He wondered how a humanoid and a ship could share a mind, but that wasn’t part of his operation. “Where exactly are we?”

  “Approximately four hundred and fifty-five million kilometers away from planet Mars.”

  Rosco whistled.

  Although he was used to long-range space travel, being that distanced from the core planets felt unusual. As if someone cut his life line to the heart.“Where’s our target planet?”

  The Newtype said, “Approximately four and a half million kilometers away from our current position. I wanted to leave a big enough buffer zone between us and the exoplanet.”

  Rosco’s body got used to the surroundings again. The relatively low pressure coming from three g’s was a refreshing change from the cream’s liquid prison. Thank tech his anti-dirt, water-resistant, tech uniform was dry again.

  “I’m going to check on the techie.”

  The second Rosco touched ground with his feet he collapsed like a drunk hooked on Burrn. The ground seemed to make love to his limbs. “Is the anti-gravity off?”

  “No, sir,” eQuip said again, “you’re just not used to walking.”

  Ming chuckled.

  Rosco took a deep breath from the artificial air and pushed himself up. He managed to stand, but his legs felt like wobbly sausages soaked with water.

  eQuip clarified his weakened state. “You’ve lost four point four percent of your muscle-mass and two point eight percent of your bone structure during stasis. Your nanobots are also busy repairing your cell damage caused by the solar radiation.”

  She seemed to address everyone. “You should all take vitamin supplements and post-FTL stims.”

  “Makes sense,” Rosco said and waddled out the bridge.

  He entered the corridor leading toward the R&D section. eQuip was friendly enough to show him the way via projected pointers that glowed on his HUD. The doors slid sideways, and Rosco found himself in a tight studio space with crammed electronics, 3D printers, a small testing stage, and lockers filled with parts. Amid the chaos Ekström stood fumbling with his gear. His creations littered the set of tech tables attached to the ground.

  Rosco faked a cough. “How’s it going?”

  The engineer didn’t look up from his current construction—whatever it was. It looked like a miniature spaceship with side cannons. “Drones from Mr. Jones, part of the greater whole.”

  Pause.

  “Sister’s done, waiting for her turn. Soon, Tiger and Lily will be ready for recon. Siblings united, once again. And for tactical good.”

  “Amen,” Rosco said.

  He figured the engineer was muttering a bunch of bollocks, but recon drones sounded like a smart idea when exploring the exoplanet’s surface. Rosco halted in front of the ergo standing desk and watched the engineer’s small hands playing with the electronics of the drone. His fingers moved like tentacles, jumping from spot to spot in rapid succession.

  A child lost in tech play.

  “How was your anti-g stasis? Everything okay?” said Rosco.

  The engineer mumbled. “Mmm. Anti-g chit-chat; a topic for the timid and simple-minded.”

  “What about the techtoos? eQuip told me you were working on new ones for our upcoming operation?”

  The engineer lifted his right index finger and pointed toward the shelf to his opposite site. Rosco followed the direction and found a slim case of freshly-printed layers in the top drawer level, ready for body attachment. He carried the case underneath his arms and walked toward the entrance of the lab. The engineer only cared about his drone maintenance.

  Rosco sighed. “I need you on the bridge when we enter the Grisaille’s orbit, okay?”

  “Mmm.”

  Whatever.

  Rosco left the lab and returned to the command bridge. Yeltzin and Ming had fully recovered from their time in stasis. They sat attached to their seating pods and stared at the bridge’s main curved screen showing the dark space around the ship. Same darkness as ever, just billions of kilometers from home; the thought whirled around Rosco’s mind like a viral feed. He had finally reached the rim where no man had gone before. Didn’t feel like work though; he had been busy sleeping his success away. eQuip looked up from her consoles and addressed the captain.

  “Approaching the exoplanet.”

  27

  Rosco connected to his pod-seat and observed the inner hull screen.
A new semi-transparent window popped open showing a planet with grayish atmosphere and a chaotic surface structure. It looked like Earth’s ugly little brother with all the colors washed away. “Is that our target?”

  “It is, sir, grisly Grisaille,” eQuip said. “I’ve magnified it by a factor of five thousand percent.”

  They were still a handful of million kilometers away from the target zone, but the first impression hit. Excitement sizzled through Rosco’s veins; even though he wasn’t entering a battle, the situation jumpstarted the same adrenaline rush. It felt better than the most VR sessions he’d participated in.

  “Sir, anomaly detected.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The ship’s long-range sensors pick up an energy signature.”

  “Can you put it on the screen?”

  A new window appeared on the inner hull and depicted the event. A delicate pattern, similar to a holo-projection, glistened in the void, flickering in color tones Rosco had never seen before. It reminded him vaguely of auroras, the strange sky phenomena back on Earth. Art in space; beautiful and bewildering.

  Rosco narrowed his eyes and tried to understand the projection. “What is that?”

  “I don’t know, sir, but it seems to be projected from our target planet. I can track its trajectory.”

  Rosco turned to Ming sitting to his right. “Have you seen that before, Doctor?”

  “No. But its shapes and symmetry looks too perfect to be natural phenomena. I believe it’s a man-made anomaly.”

  “Man-made?”

  “Well, alien-made.”

  She fumbled with the side dashboard of her pod. “I’m making copies on my local screen. This looks like a puzzle waiting to get solved.”

  Her initial arrogance swapped for childlike passion. Joy flavored her every word. “This is fascinating, sir. To say I’m psyched would be an understatement.”

  “Knock yourself out,” Rosco said with a smile, “and tell me what you find out.”

  Her attention already belonged to the footage. Rosco saw her swiping at dazzling speeds, which meant she carried some kind of augmentation that increased her multitasking ability. The faster, the better.

  “It looks magnificent and yet scary,” said Yeltzin from Rosco’s left.

  “Do you think it’s some type of weapon?”

  The soldier synced his side-display to the main one and zoomed in. “What’s the heat signature saying?”

  eQuip answered first. “Proton-manipulation on a nano-level. In simple terms, it is a hologram moving toward us.”

  Pause.

  “Making contact in T-minus forty seconds.”

  eQuip updated the approach. “Anomaly contact in T-minus twelve seconds.”

  Rosco kept his breath under control. His first reaction was to shoot the projection and see the reaction, but he wasn’t keen on making first contact a killing. He needed more intel on the anomaly. “Any news?”

  Ming still seemed busy analyzing the ghost-like pattern floating in the black space. “It could be some form of deterrence, sir, but I don’t have enough evidence yet. It’s unlike any pattern I’ve ever encountered before.”

  Of course… it was alien.

  “Impact now,” eQuip said.

  Tssss.

  Nothing happened. Not a jolt, a rattle, heck, not even a vibration.

  “Anomaly’s heat signature disappeared,” eQuip said.

  Project and forget. What was that all about? Rosco shook off the shiver and focused on the main screen. Space looked as barren as ever. What was that all about?

  “Well, we have recordings and images. Let the nerd brigade back at Daystellar worry about that flicker. We need to focus on the planet. Distance?”

  “Approximately two and a half million kilometers.”

  “I want to be careful with the approach. Something tells me this special effect isn’t the last thing we’ll see.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  It was refreshing and strange to have a single unit acting as navigation, engineering, and tactical altogether.

  “Keep the ship’s weapon systems on standby.”

  Ming twisted around. “Isn’t that a bit hasty, sir?”

  “Hope for peace, prepare for war.”

  “Roger, Captain,” eQuip said with no change of intonation.

  The last ounce of exhaustion vanished from Rosco’s body. His eyes belonged to the main screen showing the side display of the magnified planet. An ugly orb clouded with mystery. Maybe the mission wasn’t going to be as bland as Rosco had thought.

  “Another anomaly detected,” eQuip said. “Distance, approximately two thousand kilometers, three hundred meters.”

  She put it on the screen. The glowing lines looked similar to the first one, but sported more patterns and changing colors. It seemed to appear out of the black soup but eQuip said the projection hailed from a specific spot on the planet.

  “Save those coordinates,” Rosco said.

  He looked down to Ming. “Doctor, are you still working on this?”

  “It’s the sole focus of my attention. I’m ignoring everything else.”

  Rosco could attest that. “Well, any news?”

  Ming sighed in a melodramatic way. “I’m not a machine, sir. My intellect requires time to deal with the phenomena. I’m already making comparisons with every pattern in my database. There are recurring themes which I’m trying to decipher.” Her mouth smiled, but her eyes didn’t. “But don’t worry, sir. There’s one incredibly astute entity onboard this vessel which can and will solve this enigma, and it’s located at nine o’clock to your position.”

  Rosco pondered Ming’s cryptic words and turned around to eQuip when he realized the doctor was referring to herself.

  Let’s hope her confidence matches her skills.

  So far, the only crew member making sense was the android, which worried him.

  “Anomaly disappeared,” eQuip said, almost sounding disappointed.

  Rosco scratched his temple and pondered. Back at MAME, he had learned to think like his enemy to anticipate his next move. But all the foes of the colonies were of human nature. Even the lowest of the low-lifes, the Sunblood syndicate, followed logic. They were thirsty for credits and power, which brought a certain predictability to their actions.

  “Another anomaly has appeared.”

  “The more, the merrier,” Ming said.

  She was the only one who enjoyed the phenomena. Useful, because the more intel she gathered, the faster she’d crack its mystery.

  eQuip groaned. “Anomaly disappeared.”

  Rosco supported his hand on the railing. This wasn’t making any sense. Were the aliens playing tricks? Or was it a chemical reaction he couldn’t yet explain? Did ‘normal’ physics even apply to this part of the universe?

  Rosco hated to be in the dark.

  eQuip pursed her lips again and began to speak; Rosco cut her off. “Let me guess. Another anomaly appeared.”

  The Newtype frowned for the first time.

  “I’m detecting multiple lock-ons.”

  28

  Rosco swallowed. “This better be real.”

  “Humor isn’t part of my programming, sir. My ship’s sensors are tracking five lock-ons. Targets: starboard and front hull sub-thrusters, and turrets Alpha, Beta, and Delta.”

  A serious threat then. One part of Rosco experienced fear, the other excitement. He was finally in demand. “Time until impact?”

  “T-minus five minutes, forty-three seconds.”

  Rosco flicked a glance at Ming. “Well, looks like your fear of dealing with primordial bacteria is unwarranted; unless this planet’s bacteria have learned to build auto-targeting rockets.”

  Her voice sounded flat. “I’m feeling so much better now, sir.”

  She seemed calm despite the threat. At least she could deal with pressure—a vital characteristic for every space-faring crew member.

  “Sir, any counter-measures?” eQuip said.

&
nbsp; “Scan the incoming projectiles. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

  “I can’t track them from our ship. Sending a sat probe from the droid launch bay.”

  The probe escaped the port, fell back hundreds of kilometers until its internal thrusters kicked in. They propelled the dagger-shaped robot in short bursts until it reached sublight speed and surpassed the Vanguard. Seconds stretched into an unpleasant silence.

  “Report,” Rosco said.

  Dealing with alien projectiles did rub him more than anticipated.

  “eQuip?”

  “Scanning.” She paused. “Heat-seekers of unknown alien origin. Material composition not available.”

  Heat-seekers; that was all he needed to know.

  “Send the flares when the projectiles are about a thousand kilometers away.”

  “Roger.”

  eQuip released the flares from the starboard cannons. The swarm of glowing micro-rockets whooshed through the dark void like holographic firecrackers. Rosco counted down the seconds and stalked the tactical screen with obsession. The alien rockets neglected their course and followed the decoys.

  “Course correction. Hostile projectiles are falling for the flares.”

  “Give me a close-up.”

  The tactical screen showed the trajectories of all projectiles. The enemy rockets followed the flare swarm like a desperate pack of predators. Thousands of kilometers away, they shredded into the void. Too bad there were no explosions in space.

  Boy, that was too easy.

  Yeltzin put up an approving smirk. “Flawless maneuver, sir.”

  “Let’s not get too comfy yet; we’re still dealing with an unknown variable.”

  Pause.

  “eQuip. Do you have comm contact with Ekström’s lab?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell him to report to the bridge ASAP.”

  “I just did. He is ignoring my announcement.”