Thrust Vector - Log 6: Colossus
The flagship meeting room of the Decimator exceeded the specifications of any Naval Vessel in existence. Its size, larger than a carrier’s pilot briefing center, was interwoven with its breathtaking technical specs, which were advanced beyond even the nerve center of a Combat Control Frigate.
Such excess was all embodied in the holographic display system placed direct center on the stage. In pale blue, the broadcast was delivering a revolving three dimensional image of the Decimator’s Unit patch that drew eyes from all who entered. Every wall in the room had a two way screen on it, each slowly coming to life with the arriving faces of the Task Force commanding officers.
In just under an hour, the Decimator had become the de facto center for Task Force control. Every system, every mind, was somehow tied within the battleship.
Just thirty minutes ago, the heavy lift helicopter of the task force dropped off the twelve vector team leaders of the Heavy Carrier Kronos as well as Sub Admiral Nara Groningen herself.
Her middle aged figure was now behind the projector unit, looking over her tablet as if trying to cram in the last bits of information from a massive, sprawling document. Captain Ano was standing behind her, speaking to her in words killed by the unquenchable noise and anticipation of the room of soldiers.
Like wildfire, the news of the Decimator Project spread faster than attempted refution.
As if purposefully cryptic, the single bit of information and multitude of footage for Gaea Team birthed rumors from rumors atop already baseless rumors.
The Decimator was by herself should've been enough talk for the fleet. An inestimable firepower bringing with it theories of City State killing potential, armor able to shrug off railgun shells, and magical technologies from across the seven corners of the salvaged world.
But instead, Gaea was the only thing on the tongues of the people within the room. Voices talk in loud whispers on the members of such a vector force, a shotgun analysis of combat potential reaching higher, and higher levels of exaggeration as more and more information is theorized from withheld fact.
Such singularity of conversational topics was obvious when the blast doors slide open to reveal their primary source: Colonel Fernando Perez, Gaea Leader.
The noise in the room dies, the spreading of silence like a virus as it jumps from group to group. Even in a room of famous Squadron Leaders: the presence of Gaea was nothing less than a meteor impact to the fragile ecosystem of the Vector Crops.
Perez takes a quick scan around with trained eyes, spotting a few famous Pilots in the room: Major Chu San Hong of Lightning Squadron, Colonel Alex Kaptn of Hades Team, Captain Maria Josè of Gull Squadron, all among others. The fact that they were silent told him more than anything else on the current topic of conversation.
They all look at the Master Pilot, eyes careful to not match his as he looks around the room.
“Good evening.” Colonel Perez speaks as he tries to divert attention.
The deadly quiet room echos the Pilot’s voice, every mouth unopened in tight fear.
Captain Ano was the only one who dared to speak up. Out ranked, inexperienced, yet held within that uniform, tradition. Perez, despite being the wisest and most decorated aboard the Decimator, still called to the Vessel’s true master. Ano nods. “Take a seat Colonel, we will begin in a few minutes.”
“Thank you Captain.”
The first line of judgement within the military was in the briefing room. Where a soldier sat, who they interact with, how they talked, all told more about a person than an entire stack of psych reports.
Normally, the overt complexities of sociality were reserved for those in the upper echelon of Naval Command, but the unspoken social rules of the Vector Corps already gave an outline for the expected normality of pilots.
The natural division of Squadron Leaders was towards their respective warfare assignments, something that was already reflected within the naturally developed seating arrangements within the briefing room. Fleet Tacklers were all sitting in their self made corner, words proctoring the exchange of tactics and vector modifications. Attackers were all focused at the front, chairs rearranged to form a competition circle of boasting and wild tales. Finally, the pilots of the Anti-Vector forces sat direct center of everyone, with their personal stories traded for the wisdom of the city states.
Normally, one would sit according to their assignments. But Colonel Perez, with Gaea’s diverse background in almost all forms of warfare, no longer fell within any category given. Before, Sicario Leader’s vector role once fit into one, but now, the anti-vector electronic warfare fleet tackler hybrid that also technically fell into the attacker divisions was lost in organization.
It wasn’t a problem of course, there was not a doubt on the universal acceptance of the Master Pilot. With experience, came ability, and Colonel Perez, with his twenty long years in the service, was well endowed in both.
Anti-Vector assignments came naturally to him, the legendary ability of the Colonel to smash dumbfire rockets directly onto hostile vectors was unrivaled in both the Syndicate and Consortium. But the credit given to him for his counter vectoring work was almost matched by his tenacity for fleet tackling. After all, his actions in the defense of Neo-Paris awarded him his second Consortium Star. And for the Attacker Pilots; boast enough about anything and you’ll be family. With two of the highest awards that can be given in the Consortium Military on his dress uniform, it was difficult to say that the Pilot Master did not have much to brag about.
However, the members of the Anti Vector divisions were traditionally his place in the world of salvaged steel. And in the end, they were all slaves to normality of life.
Closest to home, farthest from the sky.
“Colonel Perez.” Major Hong of the Anti Vector divisions stands as he extends his hand towards the approaching icon. “Do you…”
“Hong.” Perez smiles as the familiar face comes around, his hand grasping the man’s. “Yes, Operation Iron Fortress. I remember Lightening Team was sitting on their asses while we had to do the gauntlet run.”
“You guys volunteered for that.” Hong recounts.
“Yes we did.” Perez changes his glance to the rest of the Pilots. “Yes we did.”
Major Hong gives a sly look at the rest of the Anti-Vector Leaders, his free hand pointing towards himself in a humble show of superiority.
You guys see I’ve flown with Colonel Perez. He knows me!
“Captain Josè.” Perez nods to one of the pilots as he notices her presence. In the Captain’s young brown eyes and dark skin, the city state of La Parellia. “Good work keeping yourself alive.”
She nods with a small smile, one that she shows towards the Major. “Yes Colonel. It is good to see you again.”
How about that Major? I’m from the same state as Colonel fucking Perez.
As if at once, the entire group of Anti-Vector Squadron Leaders all gaze towards the envious group of Attacker Pilots.
Look at us, Colonel Perez is sitting with us, and not with you. Now you’ll beg for more info about Gaea from us! How does it feel like?!
“So Gaea’s your new gig huh?” Hong nods as he motions towards an open seat. “Nobody from Sicario got transferred?”
“Nope.” Perez sits. “It's a completely new Team.”
“Speaking of the team.” One of the Pilots raises his finger, and Colonel Perez instantly recognizes the pale face of Captain Tanaka. “Is Gaea Four…?”
The question is not expanded further.
“Gaea Four…” Perez edges him. “What’s your question Captain?”
Tanaka looks towards the others in the division. “Is he…that guy?”
“Well it depends on who ‘that guy’ is.” The Colonel motions towards them, on his face a small expression.
They all exchange glances with each other. The smile of the Colonel betraying the information held within an ancient mind.
“No fucking way!” Captain Jose yells and shakes her head. “No fucking way it's him!”
“Yes way kid!” Hong points at her, then to the Colonel. “It’s gotta be him.”
The room surrounding them dies as every single person tries to listen onto the Colonel’s answer.
It was obvious who each member of Gaea was of course, the faces of legends difficult to forget: Colonel Perez, Major Yuryev, Case. But the sheer impossibility of the fourth member of the group stretched their imaginations too far. Explanations of false propaganda rose up, words of rumor called out from theorized fact. There was simply too much doubt in their minds to accept such a man as a part of the already legendary team.
As if already knowing the thoughts of the room, Colonel Perez nods. “It’s him.”
All the pilots stop, minds crashing as they hear the confirmation. As if nose diving without internal dampening, the room red outs, the beating noise of rushing blood and the jagged spikes of mind numbing ice consuming everyone.
The pilots in the conversation circle reel back at the words.
Josè’s mouth lets the words out. “Santa mierda…”
“Alek Markov is Gaea Four?!” Hong tries to keep quiet, failing hard. “Is he…”
“Everything and more.” Gaea Leader says. “The best in the world.”
It wasn’t a lie at all. Comparing the abilities of Markov to anyone else Perez had served with, there was no equal.
“Have you been in combat with him?”
“Eh…” The Colonel blinks, lowering his voice. “I’m not sure if I’m authorized to share that.”
“Well then is he really…” Josè tries to fix her words, a method of lessening the blow lost in her mind. “Like… does he really turn into what they say he turns into?”
“Oh don’t ask that question.” Major Hong sighs.
“No… ” Perez silences the Major. “She’s right.”
Eyes all stare at the Master Pilot as he begins. In his words the wire thin line of wisdom and experience.
“You know, there’s something about him.” Perez follows. “I’ve never seen a Pilot so reckless because his skill enables him.”
Like artists, pilots had differing styles of war. There were those careful in strokes, each movement of their vectors a practiced motion against experience and talent. Others the printing machine like precision of accuracy and movements. Even more, those that splatter paint in wild drunken hazes, their battles a constant rush into close quarters combat, utterly breaking those underneath them through speed and spreading fire.
But Markov was the unholy combination of every single one.
He pushed the limits of risk beyond of what should be survivable, every action he makes a carefully precisioned move that was more machine than man.
Like some kind of demonic possession, the inhumanity of his unhinged flying style was studied and analyzed endlessly to no avail. It was like a switch, the humanity of Alek Markov descended into madness within the cockpit. A true god turned into pitch, unconscious war within the coffin of the vector.
“So it's almost like he turns into something else?” Hong derives. “Like a Werewol… ”
“Everyone!” The voice of Sub Admiral Groningen sounds, silencing all pilots immediately. “If we can have your attention please.”
They all turn towards authority, the earned power of the military demanding respect from those beneath them.
The room quiet and minds attentive, the Admiral begins. “I know this announcement was quite sudden, I only got the message an hour ago. So this won’t be a formal briefing, rather, it will be a preliminary information session. You may ask questions at any time, and we’ll try to answer to the best of our ability.”
Without any further objections, she smiles. “I was promised a task force for a ‘large operation.’ I didn’t expect a state of the art battleship and the best vector team in the world.”
The room chuckles lightly.
Admiral Groningen nods to Captain Ano, who returns her expression. The Admiral speaks. “The Third Fleet has identified a threat present within the Medditerrian Zone, they are known as the Covenant of Medditerria. Currently, the Covenant is defined as a religious extremist group, similar to that of the Order of Centauri and Terra Novia. However, unlike the previous two, they are reported to operate a fleet comparable to a standard Consortium Task Force within the Zone.”
A hand shoots up from within the Fleet Tackling Group. Colonel Perez recognizes the sharp jawline of Lieutenant Colonel J. Korra almost immediately, his facial structure unchanged since Perez last flew with him five years prior. “There historically have been numerous disappearances of vessels in the Zone, is this force responsible for them?”
The Admiral nods. “We believe that there are many factors responsible for the Zone’s dangerous nature. However, the Covenant is theorized to play a major role at this.”
Korra nods and the Admiral continues. “The Third Fleet has been surveying the zone for the past few days. Current recon suggests that all Covenant Forces are congregating together… here.” She points.
The three dimensional display folds across the room. A map slides together from a thousand pieces, the color of the Meddeterrian Zone fully realized in sickly green. Grid Lines overlay themselves over the clouds, and a red circle slams onto the map like the fist of God.
“We believe this tactic is used to defend the centralized command center of the Covenant. This centralized command center is a medium classification city state.”
The map folds away, replaced by the shape of a metal amalgamation.
Silence as the pilots consider this new information.
“We estimate a hostile fleet composition with a heavy focus towards fast and small vessels, between frigate to interceptor classification. However, a few assets do not fall into such categories.”
They all watch as the blurry images taken from recon drones appear. Every silhouette embalmed by a red line and appended with isles of information.
“Five light cruisers, two heavy cruisers, and one battleship at minimum have been identified.”
Another hand is raised, the Admiral points towards it. “Yes?”
Perez notes that Captain Rivers now had scars that stretched from his jaw across his head. No surprise there, his famous bad luck was only exceed by his ability to stay alive, and mostly intact, through anything the world threw at him.
“What sort of anti vector measures do these vessels have?”
“Hmm…?” The Admiral looks to Captain Ano for an answer. “Captain?”
The Decimator’s Commanding Officer searches the room, seeking for the ultimate primary source in the room. “Colonel Perez, if I may call you out.”
Colonel Perez stands slowly, like an old man trying to get up from a comfortable seat. In his mind, a recount of the events before them. “Gaea Team only faced off against a single frigate class vessel as well as the City State itself. I don’t think a generalization of information would be wise.”
The already reeling room is blown back fully at the revelation of Gaea’s proof of combat. In the eyes of the Commanding Officers and Pilots, there was internalized shock.
“Please do tell Colonel.” The Admiral insists. “Any information helps.”
Colonel Perez sighs, then nods. “The Frigate Class we fought was mainly focused upon the disabling of vessels. Most of what ordinance that could be considered anti vector was manned instead of automated.”
Major Hong immediately shoots his hand up next to Perez, immediately regretting the decision as he shallows out a few moments later.
“Major.” Captain Ano points.
Hong clears his head. “When was this engagement, I may ask?”
Captain Ano nods. “The Decimator was ambushed en route from Ledenoft to Chadeisson. Gaea Team was engaged with a frigate and the city state while the Decimator engaged a cruiser and fell back. Gaea Team destroyed one frigate and the Decimator one light cruiser.”
“Two frigates.” Colonel Perez corrects.
“Sorry.” Ano smiles. “Gaea Team destroyed two frigates and severely damaged the city state.”
The display responds. As if listening in, the presentation shows several marks on the ancient structure of the rogue state.
Colonel Perez, even with such poor image quality, could match secondary reactor locations to the massive craters on its hull, as well as the massive gash where one of the engine fairings tore itself apart within the structure.
The damages done to the state were horrifying in scale. Through the gritty image, such size could not be expressed adequately.
“Captain Ano is correct.” The Admiral says. “Gaea Team was able to hold off an entire division of hostile craft along with the frigate. Kill counts are…”
She takes a pause. “Well, I believe the fleet report used the term: ‘slaughter.’”
“If I may interrupt.” Colonel Perez’s voice stops the Admiral: the only one that had the traditional authority to stop her, and the guts to actually do it. “The fighter and attacker assets they use are not within Vector classification.”
The Admiral smiles. “Please do continue Colonel.”
“Their craft were of fixed wing and fixed engined design. Some, if my memory still serves me correctly, were powered by push propellers.”
A stifled laugh comes from the pilots. Major Hong shakes his head. “You joke Colonel.”
The projection shows several wire cutouts of Covenant Fighters. In their forms, the archaic reliance on crude aerodynamics and ancient biofuel engines. The room looks at the screen, then back to the Pilot.
“I am quite serious.” Colonel Perez adds. “And most of their jet fighters did not have enough acceleration power or maneuverability to match Gaea Team.”
“Gaea Team vectors use adjustable engine mounts correct? Or thrust vectoring?” Someone from Iris Squadron raises.
“Now that.” Perez raises a finger. “That might be classified.”
The wisdom of age did grant the sense towards the world around those who lived long enough. Gaea Team, with their hyper advanced vectors matching the technological capacity of the lost world beneath them, was most likely guarded beyond all other military secrets.
Admiral Groningen motions back towards the presentation, trying to divert attention from the protected information. “If any of you are curious on the matter, the open documentation of Gaea and Decimator is available through contacting Third Fleet Intelligence.”
Captain Jose leans in to Major Hong’s ear. “Also known as you’re not getting shit.”
Hong shrugs as they continue listening.
“Anyway.” The Admiral gathers everyone again. “For War Assets, we have both the 91st Task Force you see here and the newly reactivated 87th at our disposal.”
Captain Ano, along with the rest of the Commanding Offices, freeze.
This is getting out of hand. The room thinks.
The historical 87th Outlaw Hunters was one of the most legendary anti-pirate divisions in the past decade, before their deactivation. With their rebirth, there was something up in the zone, something beyond the capabilities of just a single large task force to deal with.
The display moves as the image changes. Several Warships appearing on a list as the Admiral continues. “Our current fleet strength is as follows…”
As the list grows and grows, more and more eyes turn into shock.
Carriers and cruisers, frigates and destroyers. Even a few vessels of the exotic variety were included: two Command and Control Frigates were pressed beside a full scale Electronic Warfare Platform, and to top off the extremes; one of the four rail guns in existence was here as well, mounted spinally on the dedicated destroyer Linebacker.
There was no obvious reason for the firepower brought upon the Covenant. Operation Colossus was seemingly a waste of resources, bullets thrown at a insignificant world power for a minuscule return.
Objections rise from the offsite commanding officers, pilots raising their voices as well at this massive waste of personnel and tonnage. Chaos takes a hold of the room. Factions split between them all as the indepence of the Vector Corps is exercised fully.
It starts slow, but the laugh emanates; an old noise from a sage far into the knowledge of war. Colonel Perez’s chuckle is one of discovery, enlightenment, like a parent discovering the child’s savings of unused entertainment rations.
They all slowly silence themselves, hearing the never ending noise of the Master Pilot. Like students to the instructor, they listen as he stops his laugh.
“I see what you’re doing here.” Perez smiles. “This dual task force isn’t simply to take down the Covenant. It’s to secure the Zone itself.”
“What do you mean Colonel?” Someone asks.
Colonel Perez looks over to the room. “Imagine if shipping was normalized in Europia. No cutting around Zone, no risk of Syndicate Raids. The economic benefits for the city states moving through this continent would then be incalculable. If Ledenoft, Kyoto, Chadeisson, even Democria, could trade safely right now, we’re talking about millions of kebs in profit for each.”
Captain Ano shoots a glance at the Admiral, his voice a silent whisper. “As Admiral Balmer told you, he’s the best.”
“No doubt on that.” She nods as a small smile spreads across her face.
Perez continues. “Economically, there’s that. But the amount of Earth Tech artifacts within the zone that have been unresearched due to the hostile nature of the area, combat tech especially, is impossible to calculate. So there’s a tactical advantage there as well.”
The briefing room begins to gather his words, understanding bridging their thoughts into informed complancicy.
“Now, imagine if only one power was able to exploit this. What if the Consortium was solely in control of one of the most tactically important areas in the entire Europia Continent? Now that, is pretty good if you think about it.”
It was a brilliant plan. The Task Group before them was nothing more than a modified defense force. A static hunter killer and embargo enforcer battle fleet made to secure and hold a large swath of airspace. Vectors for force projection, Electronic Warfare Cruisers for airspace control, and the Decimator to scare off anybody wanting to take it from them.
“The Colonel is correct, which brings us to our primary objective.” The Admiral gathers. “The takeover of the zone itself.”
Two million square kilometers of the lost world, untouched riches of the magical planet beneath their feet ripe for the taking. Like in some child’s fantasy tale, the dragon atop its grand mountain of treasure was about to be slain by a crusading army. Priceless gold and peerless jewels replaced by the manufactured boards of silicone and weapons beyond imagination. A monster of mystery exposed by a wandering warrior, the dreaded legend turned into a threat no longer immortal.
And with two task forces, it actually could be possible.
“Is there a chance of Syndicate involvement?” A Commanding Officer asks from one of the screens.
“Unlikely.” The Admiral stares as the projection, which turns into a satellite image. Several outlines are highlighted, the bird’s eye perspective of warships obvious against sunbaked earth. “Syndicate units are massing in the Zone’s Aesan border. Most likely as a response to both our buildup as well as Admiral Balmer’s announcement. However, if they do attempt a intervention we outnumber them at current count.”
The room doesn’t seem convinced.
Captain Ano slides in. “Well, we also have Gaea Team. The scales, regardless of situation, are in our favor.”
Excitement replaces doubt, the chance to fight with gods enough to make everyone ready to face danger head on.
The Admiral coughs. “Also, I shall mention that the actual briefing for Operation Colossus will occur sometime in the following week. Therefore, all information that has been provided is technically classified until further notice. So, please try and keep this under wraps until we’re within the Zone.”
The room gathers their thoughts.
“Thank you.”
Captain Ano nods. “All Commanding Officers, please remain on the line. There will be a continued session on fleet organization.”
Colonel Perez stands. “What about us Pilots sir?”
“Colonel, can you provide arrangements?” Ano shoots back.
The Pilot turns towards his brethren, taking in the eyes of all of them. The significant risk that a handful of the people within this room would no longer exist in the next few weeks hits Perez like an old injury.
He sighs with a smile, an expression more ancient than the vectors themselves. He points his thumb back towards the door. “Flight deck. We got cards and a vector simulator that’ll make you puke like a rookie.”
He waits for the room to die down from laughter. “Plus, Gaea Team vectors. You all want a closer look right?”
The room of pilots looks just about to burst in anticipation.
The Admiral clears her throat, gathering the attention of everyone in the room once again. “We will depart for the Meddeterrian Zone in four hours. Please arrange for all errands to be completed by then.”
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