Thrust Vector - Log 2: Launch
//Europia Continent, Subsector 437A
//1305 Hours, 01/29/2564
//Consortium Ship Decimator
//Consortium City State of Ledenoft
//Current Status Classified
//Altitude: 6,531 Meters
“Rigging confirmed set.” The Operations Officer reports.
“Final checks please, ascending order!” Captain Ano orders his bridge crew.
Compared to the Cairo, the Decimator’s bridge was insane. War theory was somehow mixed together with civilian creation. Luxurious amounts of space taken by pillars of clear displays across the bridge. Officers of the highest training the Third Fleet could offer all moved together like the functions of a living being, each with their own missions brought together with the whole body.
Beyond the naval personnel, beyond the towers of displays, a huge reinforced polymer window stretching from starboard to port filtered in natural sun. The thickness of such a material almost making the need for the retractable blast shields unnecessary, and Captain Ano didn’t doubt the manufactured polymer’s ability to stop anything less than a 30mm armor piercing round.
“All systems checked sir.” The Operations Officer announces. “All hands at ready.”
“Good.” Captain Ano confirms. “Comms, clear us out with Ledenoft flight control and send all final checks for comforation with Jericho. Alert me when all drydock clearances are done and we are ready for launch.”
“Aye sir.” The Communications Officer speaks a few words into his headset, then turns to the Captain. “Awaiting check return sir.”
Ano gives them a short nod before slouching into his chair, a sigh of overwork on his tired breath.
The command chair was placed slightly above the rest of the stations, giving a commanding look at the Decimator’s Nerve Center. However, the rear and centralized point on the bridge also made Captain Ano the center of military anarchy, the movement of words, orders, and people all flooding together in the pre-launch cycles of the Decimatorcompletely overwhelming the already worn Captain.
The past week of emergency briefings, crew introductions, senior staff selections, and difficult decisions left Ano with just enough mental energy to oversee the launch. He emptily wished that for the next ten minutes, anything navy related would just stop being brought to him.
“Captain Ano.” Commander Dalsma of the Vector Division aboard speaks with audible interest from behind.
The Tactical Flight Commander of the Decimator was a strange mixture of passion and eccentricity. And his voice held more a tone of mad sanity than interest.
“Yes Commander?” Ano promptly responds through closed eyes. “Is something wrong?”
“I have a requisitions ‘wishlist,’ from Gaea Team.”
“A wishlist?” Captain Ano raises his voice and eyelids. “We’re quite busy right now… and can’t you take this with requisitions?”
Commander Dalsma lowers his voice. “The pilots and I thought that this should be brought to you directly, due to its sensitive nature.”
“Sensitive nature?”
“Classified and restricted tech.” Commander Dalsma supplies.
The tactical officer flashes a look at Captain Ano, then realizing he was occupied, returns back to his console.
Ano’s ten minutes of no navy were here.
He sits up straighter on the Command Chair. “I’m interested. What’s on it?”
Commander Dalsma looks down, the beautiful words scribbled atop almost transparent cane paper was betrayed by the lethality of the weapon listings on it. “Smart munitions, thermobaric bombs, the full rundown. I can get you a digital list if you’re busy.”
“Run it through me.” Ano offers, setting aside the drama of warship launching.
Dalsma nods, going from the top of the list. “First is thermobaric munitions. We will need 530 rounds in 36 millimeter bore as well as 4 droppable stalker mines with at least 113 kg in explosive power…”
“You said thermobaric rounds? Do they even exist?” Ano interrupts, with the knowledge that thermobaric munitions only came in bombs that were dropped from the rare tactical bomber, not fired from a vector cannon.
“Apparently they do.” Dalsma admits. “Case has a disarmed round in their personal belongings.”
“Huh. May I ask why he needs them?”
Dalsma pauses. “You’ll have to ask them yourself. But… with their role as a Fleet Tackler, I assume its for disabling topside personnel and tech.”
“Seems reasonable.” Ano motions for Dalsma to continue.
The next words are less neat, yet still drawn with a keen eye. “Next is forty gallons of sky blue paint, twenty blood red, thirty nine deep black, and twelve solar yellow. And ten gallons for the rest of the spectrum. Oh, and they need to be mixed with radar absorbing compound 18.”
“Vector painting?” Ano’s limited experience with the artistic side of the Vector Crops shows. “Tell them to keep it under regs. I don’t want any friendly pilots getting shot down because they spayed their vector syndicate red.”
“Two by two meter paint schemes is best.” Dalsma nods in agreement, then pauses. “However, if you will allow us to do full paint overs in Consortium colors we would greatly appreciate it.”
“How about we have some of the topside gunners approve of it first.” Ano compromises. “If they give the ok, then it should be fine.”
“I’ll pass the word along then. Be prepared for changes in the amounts of needed.”
“What’s next?”
Dalsma furrows his eyes. “Two replacement macro fusion reactor rods, as well as twelve fission rods.”
“Talk to the engineering crew on the reactor rods, they probably can scrounge up some extras if they are desperately needed. I will put in the request with Jericho in the meantime.” Captain Ano stops. “Wait, why do you need Fusion rods? That stuff is classified.”
“All of Gaea Team’s vectors run on fusion instead of the old fission plants. Thrust potentials are off the charts for them.” Dalsma continues, his voice like a passionate child explaining some imaginary world of personal creation. “It’s cold fusion as well, seriously some crazy amounts of acceleration with the inertia dampening systems installed.”
Ano blinks in surprise. “Damn, I thought one fusion reactor was big enough for theDecimator. You’re saying each Gaea team vector has one?”
The short Senior Engineering Officer, walking to the back of the bridge towards the attached bathroom, stops between Ano and Dalsma’s conversation. She nervously coughs to gather their attention. “The vectors are running on a smaller scale of cold fusion. It ain’t as efficient as the Decimator’s power plant, but it's more powerful than a fission reactor.”
“Thank you Sub-Commander.” Ano dismisses.
Dalsma watches as she strolls away. “I know this might be out of line, but I recommend you to come and watch Gaea’s practice flight tomorrow at 1800 topside. They’ll be getting their feet wet in their new vectors.”
“A practice flight?”
The operations officer, whose sharp ear and position close to the command pedestal allowed him to intervene. “The ship schedule should be on your desk by noon if we launch on time sir.”
Commander Dalsma continues. “Take it from me Captain, you will want to see the capabilities of your vector complement before sending them out for combat.”
“I will see what I can do Dalsma.” Ano assures. “What else is on that list?”
“Smart rounds.”
“Smart rounds?”
“According to Lieutenant Markov, they’re self tracking munitions. Kind of like homing missiles, but instead it’s with 20 millimeter armor piercing rounds. Heard those bastards can track a vector in a barrel roll at four Gs.”
“Those exist?”
”Yes, and the Third Fleet has already gotten him approval for 300 rounds.” Dalsma supplies. “However, they’ll need a person with level six access to sign them off when we reach the next port.”
“Who has level six authorization?” Ano asks.
“Uh…” Dalsma looks around to find the punchline, when he doesn’t, he responds. “You do sir.”
The rank, and the privileges that came with it were still a total unknown for Ano. He embarrassingly sulks away. “Right…”
“I will have the documentation for the restricted munitions transfer on your desk by tomorrow.”
Ano looks at him. “Jesus, those are restricted munitions?”
If they were lobbed in the same category with nukes and graviton weapons, Ano had no doubt on their abilities to track and destroy anything.
“These are Experimental.” Dalsma shrugs. “Mei… I mean Major Yuryev, wanted to sneak in a request for a nuclear droppable along the smart munitions. But I declined on your behalf.”
Ano blinks. “I’ll make sure to check the documentation carefully then… whose name is on the requisition?”
“Lieutenant Alek Markov.” Dalsma replies.
Captain Ano stops, the name of the Vector Pilot drugging up incredible memories of overt propaganda and incredible combat footage. “The Alek Markov? The one that escaped from Block Nine?”
“Same one.” Dalsma casually confirms.
“Fuck.” Captain Ano quietly announces. “You Third Fleet people really can do anything.”
“We always try.”
“Captain.” The Communications Officer’s voice calls to Captain Ano. “I have received launch clearance, the Decimator is cleared for departure at your command.”
Dalsma quickly gathers his last thoughts. “The rest of the requests along with those I mentioned will be on your desk by the end of today Captain. If you have any questions or requests regarding the Vector Teams send a message to me.”
“Thank you Commander... and good work.” Ano adds as Commander Dalsma backs away from the bridge, exiting through the meter thick blast doors.
“Operations, Engineering.” Captain Ano orders and two heads turn on the bridge. “Are we ready for scheduled launch?”
“Aye.” The Engineering Officer says.
“Yes sir.” Operation’s formaily butts heads with Engineering slightly.
Captain Ano takes his military given phone from his uniform pocket, checking the official launch schedule. “Good, launch countdown for T minus two minutes at command.”
Across the decks, the secured crew hear the call. “All hands, this is Captain Ano.Decimator Launch in two minutes, repeat, two minutes to Decimator launch.”
On the central airscreen, the countdown comes to life.
Two minutes.
“Dry dock launch sequence activated, preparing for final separation.”
In the sky, everything was pushed to the wire of survival. What was, centuries ago, a cause for celebration was now a tense battle between humanity and earth.
Beneath the warship the city folds away. World engines crash and collide as they move mountains of metal, the gap widening to an entire habitation block as they make space for war.
Flat ground six kilometers down, painful and slow demise two instead. Launching of any independent vessel was putting the crew into the hands of a combination of the designers, builders, and gravity itself.
Air rushes into the steel cavern, a howl of the sky echoing across the hull of the vessel, a hostile welcoming cry from an indiscriminate, unfeeling environment.
Earth, crusted and dead, reflects light into the bowls of Ledenoft. The words of destruction are ignited for the first time in blazing sun, the redefinition of warfare about to be unleashed upon a broken world.
Across the bridge, a calm and collected voice rings out. “This is Ledenoft Flight Control,Decimator, com check.”
The Communications Officer fires the response back. “Decimator to Control, com check return.”
“Return confirmed. Decimator, your launch is clear.”
“Understood control.”
“Operations.” Navigation speaks. “Increase internal dampening 3%, thruster power to maximum.”
“Done.”
“Engineering, adjust nozzle disposition by four degrees bow.”
“Thrust vectoring set.”
“Clear for main engine start?”
“Clear.”
The engines of the Decimator flare to life. The bellow of brute force incarnate sounds as the navigation officer pushes the profile just a little over 1%. The clamps holding the vessel pull taught, then loosen again as she eases it off.
“Main engine startup complete.” The Engineering officer reports.
“Confirm gravity generator status.” Captain Ano nervously requests.
“Gravity generator online.” Engineering confirms.
Forty seconds.
Captain Ano grasps the announcement microphone, waiting for at least thirty five before speaking. “All hands this is the Captain, we are launching in thirty seconds, brace for freefall.”
Ano had hoped to never use the term free fall again. However, it seemed that everything he tried to avoid would always come back and bite him.
Operations raises his voice. “All hands ready sir!”
“Navigation, launch at your convenience.”
The countdown reaches single digits, and every bridge officer reflexively holds their breath and stomach.
One.
The giant metal clamps holding the Decimator in place snap open, a guarguatan monster suddenly its own independent mass.
Memories of a falling escort frigate intrude into Ano’s mind for just a second as theDecimator tumbles towards the ground.
Loose debris on the bridge float into the air in the zero gravity environment, and the sound of shearing metal grinds across the hull. Warnings of impending doom scream across the bridge as the computers that held her together are thrust into panic.
The artificial gravity system catches the Decimator like a parent pretending to throw a child, the floor beneath their feet once again becoming a stable ground of mass. Engines burn at full force, launching the Decimator away from any under hanging structure of the city.
She flies.
“All stations verbal check.” The Operations Officer asks.
“Navigation check.”
“Tactical check.”
“Engineering check.”
“Communications check.”
“Operations check.” He finishes. “Captain.”
“Command check.” Captain Ano nods as he grips the armrests of the Command Chair.
The vessel’s engines flare as the navigation officer takes her away from Ledenoft’s shadow in a lazy port turn. Darkness turns into sunlight, and the battleship takes its first flight into the broken sky of Earth.
“Decimator this is Ledenoft Flight control, divert to one hundred meters from city border at heading 105 degrees north.”
The airscreen displays a short range three dimensional map of Ledenoft, projected upon it the current location of the Decimator and her designated route out.
“Copy that control.”
The bow pitches up a degree as the projected path takes her up in altitude. The lower city folds away into the twilight zone, the flat disk of habitation becoming a thin construct from a rising perspective.
Ledenoft Flight Control’s route put the Decimator far away from any open port and prying sailors, instead she was to ascend directly across the civilian habitation sector, in front of the eyes of an entire population.
In the sky, the once clear horizon was destroyed by the hull of a warship.
Twenty seven thousand metric tons of salvaged steel break into the sky, the grand blue cut by a rusted red.
From the bridge superstructure, Ano could see the city below stop and watch. A battleship that dwarfed any heavy carrier, the Consortium’s power and strength suddenly revealed in its pure raw form to an unexposed populace.
Children point and workers stare at the vessel, unheard words emanating from their mouths as they all watch in unsullied, unwavering awe.
Propaganda made steel and flesh, the false facades of fantasy suddenly made to be true. The ideal of power the Consortium held was all but confirmed in the eyes of Ledenoft.
“We are clear sir.” The Navigation Officer alerts.
Ano picks up the microphone. “All hands this is the Captain. Decimator is launched, repeat Decimator is launched. Stand down alert status. Good work people.”
The nervous standing of the bridge melts away. Voices raise in tones of joy and pride echo in a mash of words and congratulations.
Within his pocket, Captain Ano’s phone rings. The face of Admiral Balmer with a cheesy smile is displayed on the main screen, and Ano takes the call. “Admiral.”
In the background of Balmer’s voice there’s noises of cheering and celebration. “Captain! Launch going well?!”
“All systems green Admiral.” Ano happily reports.
“Haha HA!” He wildly laughs. “Oh my God she’s beautiful! We can see her from the top of the command bunker!!!”
The culmination of a decade of work, tireless and endless struggle finally coming to fruition. The staff watches from the top of the polycrete bunker as the Decimator rises into the sky.
Admiral Balmer shakes uncontrollably at the sight, tears welling up from worn eyes.
Captain Sitz slaps him in the back. “You finally did it sir.”
The Admiral barely lets the words out. “Yes… yes we did.”
Captain Sitz steals the phone from Balmer’s shaking hands. “Captain, you read?”
“Yes Sitz, I read.”
Sitz takes her own phone out, akimbo wielding the most powerful weapons in human history. “I’m sending you the specifications for your shakedown run, tell me when you’ve received it.”
Ano pauses as he downloads the file. “Received.”
“We’re going to be having you run down south to the City of Chadeisson to receive a experimental laser cooling system for your central reactor.” Sitz begins. “Is that on your file?”
“Yes it is.”
Ano gets the feeling this briefing was as casual as it could get. Over the noise of the staff celebrating, Captain Sitz’s tone was one eager to join into the party.
“Good. You have the navigation file as well?”
Ano takes a look at the map, the two cities of Ledenoft and Chadeisson bridged by a blue route.
The route itself was quite straightforward, taking into account the wind patterns and weather of the continent as well as the curvature of Earth, it went straight across Medditerria. If Ano had to plan a route from middle Europia to northern Affrika based off of his one semester class of vessel navigation at the Academy, this would be it.
“Yes I do.”
Sitz continues. “We’re having you cut right across the Medditeria Zone, the remnant W-Layer updrafts and wrecks there should cover your tracks from any Syndicate sensors. Plus, it’ll cut down your travel time by two days.”
The once grand ocean that split Europia has long been a source of legend and rumor. Ever since the Exodus War, the radiation from multiple nuclear strikes and debris from an ancient battle for the now destroyed space elevator all brought together a large swath of airspace that was as impossible to navigate as was tempting to salvage from less than moral people.
Many instances of ships, Consortium, Syndicate, or otherwise disappearing in the airspace were chalked up to either poor navigation or something more… mystical.
“I thought ships constantly disappear in the zone.” Ano worryingly points out. “Entire cargo convoys and the likes, are you sure this is safe?”
Sitz laughs. “Medditerria has always been unsafe for civilian convoys. But anything remotely equipped with baseline navigation software is completely fine, really.”
“Really?” Captain Ano isn’t convinced.
“I’ve taken the Akula out there many, many times, with most of that on silent running. And plus, your navigation officer could fly a route through the zone blindfolded.”
The navigational officer, a Lieutenant with extremely short cropped hair, gives Ano a thumbs up and a short smile from the front of the bridge.
“I have no doubt on her abilities.” Ano assures. “I’m more worried about the Medditerria Monster.”
“Oh that.” Sitz rolls her eyes, her light laugh dismissing. “Take that from me, it's a old husband’s tale. If a living creature that big was out there, soaking up all that radiation, we’d have detected it by now.”
“Yet nobody has detected the city of Akroma in two hundred years.” Ano references the lost state, a cheap retort in such an argument. “It exists right?”
“Well, Akroma has Exodus Era tech, and an animal doesn’t.” Captain Sitz assures again. Her tone gets slightly impatient. “Nathaniel, from Captain to Captain, just don’t do anything fucky and listen to your nav. Officer. Everything will work out.”
“Hmmm… alright Eva.” Ano’s casual remark suddenly seems out of character for an officer raised in the Ninth Fleet.
Captain Sitz continues like a mother reminding her child of impending errands. “Also Captain Ano, don’t worry about your supply levels, the Decimator launched with full stores.”
“Yes, the Admiral told me that we wouldn’t need any resupply after launch.”
“And when you reach Chadeisson the Naval Base there will take care of any sort of technical issues that arise.” Something gets the attention of Sitz, and instead Admiral Balmer returns on the line, liberating control of his phone back from friendly forces. “Captain Ano, can you promise me one thing?”
“What sir?”
“Take care of the Decimator. Please.”
“She is already my home sir.” Ano nods. “She is mine until the end.”
“Good man.” The Admiral approves. “Stiz gave you the specs on the shakedown cruise right?”
“Yes sir she did.”
“Good good.” Admiral Balmer sighs with elation. “Don’t worry Captain, the Medditerria Zone is dangerous but not as you think.”
“Sir?”
“Vessels disappear all the time, but I doubt anyone would try anything against a Consortium battleship. And with the Decimator’s design and construction, if anyone did they wouldn’t make it out alive… right?”
“Yes sir, I will make sure of it.”
Balmer takes a drink of something, Ano assumes mildly alcoholic, before continuing. “And Ano, I know it's your first real command, and I get the feeling of nervousness and inadequacy. Take it from me: just go with the flow, and let the world sort itself out. Make important decisions carefully, and stay safe.”
“Aye aye sir.”
The Admiral pauses, the words hanging from his mouth. “And trust me, nothing will go wrong unless you go looking for it. You have my word.”
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