Vanguard Galaxy

by Mars Dorian

  “About time.”

  Rosco swallowed.

  Good to see you, too, commander Wiktor…

  84

  The commander ushered him inside his living room, well, hall. Rosco felt lost the second he stepped onto the Persian XXL carpet. Must have been a replica, but given the commander’s standing, it could have been the real version from far away Earth. The commander approached his bar counter frame embedded into the wall, and activated the drink dispenser. “What do you want to drink?”

  “Oxy water.”

  Cold, clear, and refreshing. The commander poured a half liter glass with the pure goodness. He returned to the transparent table, sandwiched between the mahogany couches, and settled down on the opposite side.

  “We’re both busy men, Rosco, so let’s cut straight to the chase. You want to return to ICED, don’t you?”

  Rosco expected that direct approach.

  He came prepared. “I think I’ve earned my spot, sir.”

  The commander spread his legs and stretched his arm on the armrest while eying Rosco like a recruitment officer.

  “What makes you think that?”

  What an odd question, but Rosco knew the man well enough. He was always pushing people to see their behavior under social pressure.

  “I’ve successfully commandeered a prototype ship to the rims of our known galaxy, sir. I’ve initiated contact with an alien race, protected my crew, and took down a military freighter with a single barrage of projectiles.”

  He paused for dramatic effect. “And I’ve killed Sunblood captain, Slayton.”

  Rosco wanted to believe he saw a slight arching of the commander’s eye brows. Did he achieve to impress The Wiktor? He wanted to believe it.

  “My entire feeds are full of your so-called heroic deeds. But then I realize the available recordings all come from Daystellar’s PR creepers, who are creative bastards when it comes to media manipulation,” the commander said.

  As suspicious as ever, but Rosco wouldn’t let the man humble his achievements. He had risked his life on Grisaille.

  “Everything you’ve seen from that footage is real, sir. I protected my team on that planet, and I took down that freighter thanks to a tactic I came up with.”

  The commander straightened up and crossed his arms. A sign that things were about to get serious. “Rosco, you know why we had to discharge you.”

  “It was one mistake, sir.”

  “You ignored the order of a high-ranking commander. That’s unacceptable ICED behavior. The command chain is the infrastructure of any military organization. Without it, strategy and tactics break apart into chaos.”

  No, no, no.

  “I had an impeccable track record, sir. I’ve participated in dozens of operations across the colonies, fulfilling mission orders every time.”

  Wiktor's face contorted. He seemed to choose his next words with utter care.

  “Rosco. You’ve actually just participated in one real-live mission, which was the attack on the asteroid production facility. Everything else was VR.”

  Was the commander pulling a joke on him? Rosco remembered every single memory from his previous engagements. Surely he could differentiate between simulation and reality. “Sir, I don’t know what you mean.”

  Wiktor shrugged. “Do you want to see the entries in the databases of the VR sims? You did good there, kiddo, but it wasn’t real. It was simulated. That’s why we had to let you go after the asteroid operation.”

  BS. The commander tried to confuse him, using every mean trick of Convince & Convert to twist this conversation around.

  Suboptimal.

  Rosco had believed his recent success would open him all doors to the ICED, but maybe addressing the commander was the wrong tactical move. Maybe Rosco should have gone back straight to the recruitment office to enlist the old-fashioned way. If only they didn’t ban him…

  “Rosco, seriously, what do you expect me to do? Chat up High Command and tell them what a swell captain you really are, because of how you handled the exoplanet situation? You think they’re sucking up the news and feel bad for discharging you?” Wiktor said.

  That’s exactly what Rosco had believed, but he kept quiet about it. If the commander carried such a biased view about his recent success, it was best not to stress it. “I excelled under harsh and novel conditions, sir. Frankly, there are not many captains who would have mastered this operation as well as I had.”

  The commander gave a slow clap. His poisonous smile made it worse. “Sometimes I believe you’re still stuck in a VR capsule, replaying a simulation that you can’t get out of.”

  He checked his comm and rubbed his knuckles as he acted out his fake 'I’m out of time' routine. “Well, this is useless. I promised you at least fifteen minutes of undivided attention, and I did.”

  He moved up from his coach and looked down at Rosco. “I’m sorry, Rosco, I truly am. You had great potential, but VR accomplishments and anti-authoritarian attitude don’t work in the real world.” He paused. “You need help, but you can’t get it from us.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Wiktor didn’t bother to elaborate and directed Rosco toward the front door. This conversation burned harder than an overclocked sub-thruster. Some part of Rosco expected an argument; the other foolishly believed he was going to sway him.

  Rosco stood outside of the mansion’s door and was about to hit the road when a lingering thought echoed in his mind. He remembered Grave Slayton’s confidential message about the asteroid attack that eQuip had shown Rosco during the Vanguard’s return flight. Rosco had to let if off his chest plate. “Sir?”

  The commander rolled his eyes. “Promise me to go after that one.”

  Rosco nodded. “Did High Command discharge me because they wanted to salvage the Burrn tanks?”

  The man’s eyes squeezed like gate hulls. “Where did you come up with that nonsense?”

  “I’ve heard that ICED has a vested interest in reworking the drug into an awareness-enhancing stimulant to boost troop performance.”

  The commander licked his dried-out lips. “You’re delusional, Rosco. You seem to have a serious problem keeping the simulations and reality apart.”

  That asshole avoided his questions again.

  Wiktor slammed the door. Rosco stood still and pondered the commander’s reaction. He couldn’t read his gestures, their true meaning eluded them.

  Was he lying or just fed up with Rosco?

  Couldn’t… just couldn’t tell.

  A drone descended from the roof and floated a few meters away at Rosco’s eye level. Its metallic voice sounded from the speaker system. “Your temporary residence permit has been revoked. Please leave this perimeter at once.”

  85

  Rosco waved the drone away and walked away. The aerodynamic quadcopter hovered next to him with its short-ranged shocking barrels. Millions of volts ready to zap.

  Rosco’s teeth ground when he said, “I got it.”

  He stepped away from the green estate and returned to Olympus' loop station with loaded fists. An emerging heat surged from within that wanted to explode in the form of kicks and punches. He wanted to rip every house in the neighborhood apart. He wanted to smash the mower bots to nano-pieces and use their blades to cut through the auto-rides. He barely managed to keep the pressure inside his body, but something kept him from blowing off. He wasn’t going to let that jaded commander control his emotions. He wasn’t going to become a loose cannon like back at the ICED station’s quarters when security beat him down.

  He was better.

  A real captain, in charge of his destiny, his crew, and his body.

  That’s why he just bit his lip until he saw droplets of blood dripping down on the loop platform. The surface material soaked it up, but a few bystanders gasped watching him. To them, he must have looked like a psychopath losing it, but Rosco didn’t care; frustration numbed his empathy.

  What part of him had believed
that ICED would welcome him?

  Granted, he was still trending on the feeds, and most of the media reports about his Grisaille operation had been positive, but still…ICED followed its own set of rules. And judging by the commander’s poisonous response, his resentfulness had reached a new level. All this vitriol because of a single misfired action.

  Or maybe Grave Slayton’s accusation was true.

  Maybe ICED did really want the Burrn liquid from those tanks and he had cluelessly thwarted their plan.

  Ah, it was hopeless. He had made that decision, it shaped his destiny.

  Rosco realized he’d never see or speak to M again, which hurt as much as his discharge. Too bad she was exclusive to ICED.

  They didn’t deserve her.

  They didn’t deserve him.

  Rosco was just about to step into the loop capsule’s entrance when he saw a commercial floating in the middle of the platform, hovering between two opposite ergo benches. A kid stood in front of the ad and gasped at the familiar blue and yellow logo of the projection.

  Could it be…?

  86

  The glow of the ad lured him in. Rosco left his line of the capsule and steered toward the floating billboard. The blue and yellow stripes flashed across the projection in crisp 3D. Footage blended in and looked awfully familiar. Rosco saw first person views from his atmogear, inside the Vanguard, as they intercepted the alien decoy ships. Various snippets of his Grisaille operation blended in. The crew traveling through the canyon of the exoplanet, wearing their shiny new Daystellar atmogear. Letters accompanied the visuals.

  “Explore the unknown.”

  The LRV blasting over the bleached canyon grounds, filmed by Ekström’s drone from above.

  “Travel the frontier.”

  Doctor Brakemoto projecting her hieroglyphs in front of the alien elder, using the official Daystellar datapad, as filmed by Rosco’s helmet.

  “Contact the new.”

  Captain Rosco Tellride, commanding the prototype DSS Vanguard against the military Sunblood freighter, as filmed by the ship’s optical sensors.

  “Protect your love.”

  The screen faded into a sky blue. The final words flashed across the projection in yellow beams of light.

  “Daystellar. Reach the rim, every single sol.”

  The commercial tuned out, but the effect stayed. Rosco stood frozen to his spot and tried to process the audio-visual blast that held his mind hostage for the past thirty seconds. He noticed a skimpy little kid wearing scout gear drooling next to him.

  Rosco nodded and couldn’t help but smile.

  Maybe not all was lost. Maybe the shutdown of one hatch meant the opening of another. Maybe the previous life was just a preparation for things to come. There had to be a reason why his decisions and the winks of destiny had led him here, to this very stage of his life.

  There was no doubt.

  A warm rush of confidence blew inside his bones. The bitter taste of defeat swapped for a sizzling spit. Every cell in his body was ready to take on the galaxy.

  To hex with ICED.

  Rosco didn’t need permission from his ‘old’ employers. He was a free man capable of shaping his own fate. He had the passion, the skill, and the vision. Rosco was a product of his own imagination. And however uncertain the next sols would be, he believed in a better future.

  A stellar one.

  Rosco Tellride’s adventures have just begun…

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