Vanguard Galaxy

by Mars Dorian

  “We’ll have a medical checkup to make sure you’re all A-okay. After that, you’ll be able to rest in our quarters and enjoy free food at the commons. For the next week at least, I want you to rest like gods.”

  “Sounds divine,” Yeltzin said.

  The crew had trouble walking in a straight line. Rosco as well, but a rush of thoughts tore through his neurons and kept his body standing. Unanswered mysteries lingered that only one individual could debunk.

  “Lo-Skova, I need to talk to you.” In a whisper, he added, “In private.”

  “Sure thing. Anything for you, Captain.”

  Rosco waved goodbye to his team for now.

  “See you at the commons, crew.”

  The engineer and Yeltzin nodded, but doctor Brakemoto locked eye contact cool enough to freeze flames.

  Lo-Skova curved the next corner and said, “We can use my temporary office. It has a beautiful view of the hangar.”

  Rosco didn’t care about views.

  He cared about the truth.

  81

  The two entered the sparse but stylish office cube. Lo-Skova walked toward the wall-sized windows behind her tech desk. One could see the entire hangar from here, including the masses of media and the Daystellar PR team taking control of the stage. It looked as if a thick-layer of fog separated the two from the rush of the hangar.

  Lo-Skova approached the drink dispenser. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Star Lychee Lemonade.”

  “You need to come down, eh?”

  “You betcha.”

  Lo-Skova filled up two cryo-cups and sank into her office throne. Rosco applied his butt to the opposing chair and leaned into it. He could tell the CEO was trying to keep the atmosphere relaxed. Rosco noticed freeze pictures from a bunch of boys and girls with an Earth element. “Who are they?”

  “My kids, of course.”

  Rosco grinned. “Organic?”

  “Bred on demand,” the CEO said.

  Somehow, the connection between children and Lo-Skova didn’t fit. Rosco had always thought the woman was the female version of the archetypal billionaire playboy with the license to lay any man she wanted—or ladies for that matter.

  “Four little lovely rebels. Try taking care of a grandiose family AND an interstellar corporation; it’s like kindergarten on warp speed.”

  “I can imagine,” Rosco said.

  An awkward silence settled in before Lo-Skova took charge of the conversation again. “Well, I don’t want to repeat what I already said before, but boy, am I glad you mastered this mission. I can honestly say the two best decisions of my life were: A, becoming CEO of Daystellar, and B, hiring you.”

  Compliments fired at the speed of sublight.

  Rosco deflected them all. He knew enough of the media game to distinguish between genuine praise and appeasement.

  “Lo-Skova. Did you send me to that planet because you wanted to take control over its vast natural resources?”

  The CEO’s face froze before the trained smile returned. “Wow, talking about cutting straight to the chase. I love it.”

  “The Sunblood syndicate somehow reached the exoplanet before ICED or any other megacorps could and waged war on the local alien population. Those mercs had discovered a new resource which seems to be very useful for cybernetic tech and space faring industries. Did you know about that?”

  Lo-Skova’s relaxing stance swapped for a straightened one. She shifted around her office chair but didn’t seem to nail a comfortable position.

  “The scans from our space telescope showed a couple of resources that were potentially harvestable. But that’s true for a dozen other dwarf planets and asteroids that Daystellar is interested in.”

  Her voice rang with a serious tone. “Your main mission was to safely lead the crew to and from the exoplanet while having the xenologist initiate contact with the life form.”

  At least the CEO was talking, although she didn’t spill the information Rosco wanted to hear.

  “Interesting. You know, I’ve heard that there are interstellar laws that prohibit colonization of a planet if it contains sentient life forms. Which means that no organization can access its natural resources, unless it’s done in agreement with the local population.”

  “That’s an interesting theory, Captain. I mean, it would be nice if smart aliens would do business with us, no? I don’t know one company in the solar system who would decline.”

  Lo-Skova seemed unimpressed. Rosco still couldn’t read her true emotions; she was too good at hiding them. “Did you hire me because you knew the Sunblood was involved in this? In fact, did you hire me because of my experience of dealing with the syndicate?”

  Lo-Skova scratched her throat. Rosco couldn’t detect whether that was an unconscious coping mechanism. He needed to learn more about human interaction.

  “I hired you because of your previous military performance and your tendency to stay calm under the utmost pressure. I knew an adrenaline junkie like you was a perfect fit for this off-world mission. The algorithm was correct—you achieved the operation goal admirably,” the CEO said.

  Her glance traveled down to the desk. “Well apart from the LRV destruction and the heavy damages on the DSS Vanguard.”

  She clapped. “But don’t worry. The exorbitant costs will not be subtracted from your commission. Collateral damage is the price of reaching the frontier. I believe you did the best of your ability to keep Daystellar’s properties safe.”

  Rosco didn’t waste one second worrying about the corporation's costs; the thought was far from his mind.

  “Something else you need taken care of, Captain?” Lo-Skova said.

  Rosco nodded. “Although everything worked out with the team, there were a lot of… communication issues. The engineer’s mental disorder produced challenges. I think he still doesn’t understand the basics of the command chain.”

  Not to mention the proper ways of talking AND making sense at the same time.

  Rosco looked for the right words to phrase his next concern. “I also have the impression that Doctor Brakemoto wasn’t fully transparent about the translation process with the alien. I believe she deliberately kept secrets from me. I wonder what she really told those aliens—did she arrange a business deal to bargain with their resources?”

  Lo-Skova eased her posture and leaned into her seat. “Ming and Ekström have their issues, no doubt; that was a risk I was well aware of. But despite their foibles, their skills trumped. Doctor Brakemoto is the highest-ranking xenologist and decryptor I have ever come in contact with. And the cyber-engineer? A social screw-up, but oh boy, isn’t he a wizard of tech?”

  It was clear she enjoyed listening to herself.

  “You know what they say—genius and madness are often married. And in the end, everything worked out thanks to your stellar military expertise and leadership, Captain.”

  Rosco wondered whether Lo-Skova went through the Convince & Convert training before accepting her job as CEO. No matter which accusation you threw at her, she’d always weasel out.

  Rosco watched his reflection in the CEO’s eyes and vice versa. The air grew thick enough to impregnate a vacuum.

  “I appreciate your trust in me, Lo-Skova, and all the support I’ve received. But if there’s one thing I hate with gusto, it’s being a little pawn in someone else’s game.”

  The CEO shrugged. “But life’s a game, Captain. You either choose to play or you go back to work.”

  She projected the current media snippets on his surround screens and angled them so Rosco could see the full coverage.

  “Whether you like it or not, Captain Tellride, but you’re a little star among the colonies. Even some of your former ICED colleagues have praised your exoplanet operation.”

  Rosco saw fellow officers being interviewed about his engagement. Some did really share words of respect, saying how impressive he reacted while juggling the rising tensions between the cartel mercs and the unknown alien s
pecies. When the fight against the capitol freighter came into discussion, one officer basically puked out compliments. It made Rosco choke up a bit, although he tried his best to hide that fact.

  Lo-Skova smiled. “Even ICED must realize how foolish it was to discharge you.”

  That vulture.

  She still knew how to push Rosco’s buttons. The turn of the conversation rendered him speechless. Rosco ended up nodding and moaning like an idiot with second degree brain burns. Lo-Skova looked at her digital planner and fumbled around the desk.

  “If you have any other questions, Captain, feel free to ping me on my private network. I grant you special permission.”

  Rosco heard the door opening meters behind him. More than a subtle reminder that he had overstayed his welcome.

  “Enjoy the free medical care and food. You’ve certainly earned it,” the CEO said.

  Rosco stood up and shook the woman’s hand. As he neared the door, he stopped at the frame with a glimpse geared back at the CEO. “And Lo-Skova?”

  The CEO looked up from her datapad and remembered her pro smile. Rosco cleared his throat.

  “You may want to offer better insurance coverage to your workers in the asteroid mining industry. Who knows—some disgruntled employee may end up as a mercenary with the intent to jam up a long-range swarm missiles up your butt.”

  Lo-Skova frowned and looked genuinely confused for the first time. “I suck at reading subtext.”

  Rosco moaned. “Sponsoring ventures to the frontier is not the only way to up your company’s reputation. Good care for your employees and adequate coverage can do wonders.”

  “If you’re referring to that asteroid disaster, that was before I took over. The last CEO was a pathetic penny pincher.”

  “Just take care of the people that work for you.”

  Lo-Skova held still and offered a long nod. A part of Rosco wanted to believe the CEO got the message. Before the captain traversed the doorframe, he heard her voice one last time. “Keep your comlink online during the relaxation, Captain; I’ve got a new challenging mission coming up. We’ve just started writing the first page of the history book.”

  Should have been music to Rosco’s ears, but his attention traveled to an issue far more important to him.

  82

  The feeds of the Martians raced by on fire. Millions of citizens wanted to know more about the mysterious operation on planet Grisaille. One of the biggest local syndicators, The Martian Chronicles, broadcast various programs reporting on the operation, twenty-six hours a sol. Iconic announcer algorithm, Ruby-8, spent an entire segment focusing on the Daystellar crew. She projected herself into the digital studio and flamed the fake audience with her foxy hair.

  Rube-8, ‘don’t hate’.

  Model looks, a creamy skin and a bombshell atmogear dress clang to her athletic body, although it was all virtual.

  “Welcome to the Ruby Report, where I shine nano-light on pressing issues concerning Mars and the solar system.”

  A fake audience applause track sounded from the off. Ruby laced her elfin fingers through the flaming hair and pursed her crimson lips. “Fellow Martian and former ICED cruiser captain Rosco Tellride has returned from his successful ‘First Contact’ mission on Grisaille. The Daystellar sponsored venture was challenged by frequent attacks from the Sunblood syndicate, which had infiltrated the rim planet before. Captain Rosco Tellride and his team have successfully fought the mercenaries and established a cease-fire between the humans and the unknown sentient life form.”

  Three-dimensional freeze shots projected from every angle.

  Ruby grinned on. “Currently, a squadron of Daystellar representatives are boarding planet Grisaille to begin peace talks between the humans and aliens, using a set of Tri-D hieroglyphs which revered xenologist Doctor Ming Brakemoto has decrypted so far. According to real-time polls gathered across Earth and the colonies, over two point five billion citizens believe this event is a milestone for humanity. But not everyone is happy about the operation. ICED officials claim that Daystellar’s first contact mission was just a corporate ploy to grab planet Grisaille’s minerals.”

  She paused and presented freeze frames of ICED officials pointing fingers and arguing amongst themselves. “The criticism seems valid, as further space telescope scans have shown a vast amount of resources such as platinum, gold, iron, and nickel. Exo-perts have found rare metals and even traces of water.”

  New holographic frames pixelated into existence around the announcer. They displayed some of Grisaille’s landscapes and exterior shots from the Vanguard.

  Ruby commented. “Here at The Martian Chronicles, we are revealing exclusive interviews with the Daystellar crew this sol at the timeframe displayed below. We’ll have controversial discussions featuring some of Daystellar’s most fervent opponents, including high-ranking ICED officials and local pundits from the media and biz sectors. If you want to stay informed about this exciting event, stay linked to our feed. “

  The AI vanished into a tornado of pixels, but her voice remained. “And don’t forget—if you heard it from Ruby, it must be right.”

  The red logo of her show, ‘The Ruby Report’ flickered in crimson brightness.

  Rosco Tellride trended on a few thousand channels across the human-controlled solar system. The media parties, even the Red Faction, dedicated whole feeds to Daystellar’s successful operation. And Rosco, being the captain of the DSS Vanguard, received premium coverage. His face projected in hyper resolution, plastered on holographic boards throughout the Ares spaceport. Civilians and military personnel recognized Rosco as he approached the nearest loop capsule entrance. Passersby craned their heads like test bots on command and started whispering. “Is that…”

  “Look, it’s the corporate captain.”

  “He was in charge of that prototype ship.”

  “Looks better on holo than in real life…”

  Rosco ignored them all, even though his ego should have space-rocketed from all the praise. He saw two twins escaping the grip of their guardian units. They tiptoed toward Rosco with O-shaped mouths and widened eyes.

  “Are you the man from that alien mission?” the girl said.

  “Unfortunately.”

  The boy chimed in with sparkling eyeballs. “I’ve seen you in that spot, sir. Love the way you took down that pirate ship with your crew—boom went the enemy’s thruster. You kicked the capital ship into the exoplanet’s atmo and made it burn.”

  “Kid, I know, I did it.”

  The girl added, “We watched that spot on endless loop.”

  Spot? What spot?

  Probably another major ad churned out by Daystellar’s relentless PR machinery. Well, Rosco would check it out after his pressing matter. “Thanks kiddos, but I’m still on a mission.”

  The kids oooohed in synchronicity. “What’s it about?”

  “Rebuilding my legacy.”

  They didn’t get the memo, but he didn’t care. His desire to play nice with the public was as non-existent as ever.

  Let Lo-Skova handle the brand building, Rosco thought. He air-saluted the twins, bypassed the mumbling crowd and entered the loop capsule. Ignored the people staring through the semi-transparent hull and focused on the board computer inside his unit. The AI spoke the second he settled into his seat. “Thanks for riding with Pipedream, sir. Where would you like to go today?”

  An area off-limits to mortals.

  “Olympus sector, parcel lane D11.”

  The AI hesitated.

  Must have been an unusual request.

  “Your path is my pleasure, sir.”

  Rosco forgot about the media spectacle and the upcoming onslaught of interviews. The next hours would cause him more distress than any public debacle ever could. But Rosco had to do this, it was his calling. The sole reason why he had accepted the Vanguard operation in the first place…

  83

  Olympus sector. Home of Mars’ retired military elite—generals, commanders,
admirals, and other high-ranking officers occupied in the reclusive colony. Old souls that wanted to sweeten their last sols in artificial heaven. The community was so guarded that one needed a special permission from at least one esteemed local to even enter it.

  Thankfully, Rosco had one.

  His capsule came to a soft hold and opened its sideways hatch. He stepped out and breathed in the peppermint air of the community. Rosco already felt like a billion credits. He stepped on the smart, self-healing pathways snaking through the colony and passed the gravity ball-sized emerald lawns cut by the mower bots. Even with Daystellar’s generous payment, he couldn’t live here, at least not any time in the near future. But frankly, he had zero interest. Despite the beauty and cleanness, the place seemed to be divorced from reality. A little fake wonderland as far away from the real Martian Ares central while still being a part of the city. One had to be old and bored to enjoy this world.

  A middle-aged pair walked their bio-engineered dog and frowned the second Rosco entered their sight. Within the two meter range, they stopped and held tighter onto their ergo bags. “Are you lost?”

  “I was but now I’m here.”

  They exchanged bewildered looks but Rosco was already back on track. He checked the coordinates and ended up in front the Mayflower residence, his target destination. The second he stepped on the property, a barrier extracted from the ground plates and scanned his ID.

  Beep.

  “Rosco Tellride.”

  “That’s my name.”

  The board analyzed his body and produced more digital noises. “You have a temporary visa to access this property for sixty minutes. Your permission is hereby granted. Fifty-nine minutes and fifty-five seconds remaining. Enjoy.”

  The barrier dove back into the ground and freed up the path to the premium private property. Ten meters up ahead on the marble floor, the majestic front door to the Roman-styled house opened up. A middle-aged guy with an ICED pullover and military cargo pants walked out. He clutched a steaming cup with his former division’s logo.