Thrust Vector - Epilogue

The wind howls across the silent sky, the distant afternoon sun a backdrop to the green atmosphere of the Zone. At its foreground, the movement of Consortium Might, and to its distance the unknown of a future.

It was almost like a painting, for a second the world holds still against the chaos that should be the normality of war.

Decimator’s engines idle, repairs still underway as within her underbelly the week’s battle is ever so carefully logged and fixed.

On the top deck, a few crewmen have already begun the arduous task of clean up. Chemical brushes go against the dried blood of long gone wounded and dead, metal slowly clearing as acid eats away the organics.

Paint is turned back to a sharp white, the damaged metal re-bent and compound 19 repaired as if war never happened.

The easement of history, permanent repairs to what is an inconvenient memory.

“Markov.” The voice behind the Pilot calls.

Lieutenant Alek Markov turns to watch his Team Leader stroll down from the bulkhead, careful as to not slip on the deck.

Colonel Fernando Perez smiles as he latches his safety hook to the nearest hardpoint. “You know I had a feeling I’d find you here.”

“I always am.” Markov replies.

Perez laughs, the cold wind entering his ailing system and he coughs in response. “Damn don’t you smell that?!”

“What?”

“That bitter taste from all the algae in the air.” Perez pulls his fatigues to his mouth, breathing the air through the layer of fabric. “This is really not good for you.”

“Ignoring the radiation as well.” Markov points.

The Colonel blinks, gritting his teeth within the covering. “I’ll limit this conversation to five minutes max, then I’m going back to the nice filtered flight deck.”

“Isn’t that compartment breached?” Markov asks.

Perez pauses. “Yes, but I like to believe that somehow being inside makes it better for me.”

Lieutenant Markov stares at him without expression, the Colonel’s eyes matching his in patience. “So what is the topic of discussion?”

Colonel Perez leans forth from the railing, thirty nine years of existence at altitude long eroding the instinctual fear of heights as he bends. “I don’t know, I just normally talk to my Pilots after combat.”

“And I am the last one to talk to?” Markov blinks away the particulate in his eyes.

“Well I drank a beer with Mei and watched Case paint.” Perez supplies. “So yes, you are the last one.”

Lieutenant Markov looks out into the green sky. “I believe that my report will explain all the decisions I’ve made.”

“Oh don’t give me that shit kid.” Perez waves away his words. “We need to talk talk.”

“Talk talk?” Markov asks coldly.

The old man chuckles. “You know, if you want to share anything off the record, tell me something going on at home, discuss vector maintenance. Now’s the time.”

“And that is an offer made exclusively now.” Markov specifies.

“Well, no…” The master pilot shakes his head. “Its open at any time. But I suppose after combat, we pilots are a bit more talkative.”

“So you are using this post-combat period of time to drain more talk out of us?” Markov observes.

Perez looks at Markov with a sly eye. “You got it.”

The Pilot sighs, and he lets the silence Bridge the world.

Over the Decimator, the two pilots watch as an outgoing vector patrol moves through the fleet towards the distant clouds of the Zone. The five fission engines of the squadron shaking air like thunder in a distant storm.

“Oh, there goes Vulkan Team.” Colonel Perez points as he spots the distinct bluish hue of forged orange. “Not even a week after almost getting wiped and those damn Fifth Fleet bastards are back in action. Some people I tell you.”

The shockwave from the engines removes all conversation for a moment.

“Do you know when we will be deployed again?” Markov asks.

“Well according to the morning briefing Gaea is currently on standby.” Colonel Perez shrugs. “Might as well give us a break after going against Sky Team you know?”

Markov nods.

Colonel Perez chuckles. “Surprised on how fast logistics got you a new engine though.”

“It was an easy fix.” Markov coldly replies.

“Are you kidding, they shipped the damn thing from Ryoko on a supersonic transport.” Perez stares at him with a amused look. “You’re special kid.”

“I am special?”

The Colonel raises his head up as he laughs. “Alek Markov; there are some questions with such obvious answers you don’t even need to ask.”

Markov turns and stares towards a distant earth, a neutral expression playing out from his face.

Perez sighs. “You remind me of my youngest son you know.”

The Pilot doesn’t answer.

“He’s a brilliant kid, but rejects any kind of praise.” The Master Pilot scoffs. “He helped develop the god damn Augustus Strain for wheat grain and he cringes everytime someone mentions his work on it.”

The noise of wind sounds.

“Humility is good and all, but I just don’t understand my kid. MY KID. Of my own blood!”

Markov turns. “Are you asking me for advice?”

“Well, I’m not sure but…” The Master pilot’s eyes ignite for a second in terrifying realization. “Fuck, he’s just a year younger than you. What the hell is this world coming to.”

“Is that a concern for you?” Markov asks.

“Well, you shouldn’t be here kid.” The Colonel admits. “You don’t deserve this life of war.”

“I came here for a reason.” The Pilot replies.

“We all did kid.” Perez sighs. “But just how many of us still have that reason.”

The words stop the Lieutenant.

The Master Pilot continues. “I’ll tell you one thing from my twenty years in this shit: and that is that almost every single one of us comes in with a dream and a purpose and leaves without it.

The vector gives us power beyond our limits, but it destroys us. Our hopes and dreams after our time are eroded away, and for horrible seconds in our battles we completely forget why we are actually here.”

Markov stares at him with eyes that understand better than his ever could. And then he realizes it.

The god pilot didn’t simply dive into the abyss in his wars, but was the very thing.

An embodiment of the Pilot’s nightmare, when truly unleashed Lieutenant Alek Markov turned into something that wasn’t human.

The very realm of inhumanity was reincarnated as a child, raised in the light just to understand the darkness.

End.

“I made a promise a long time ago to three people I loved more than anything in the world.” Perez finally says. “And I didn’t keep it.”

The wind enters the system of the Master Pilot, and he sighs. “Now, I can’t even bring myself face them.”

Lieutenant Markov stares at the Colonel’s aging frame in silence.

Perez shakes his head as he looks down towards the slowly moving earth, his tone changing to a lighter pitch from the darkness below. “God damn kid I came here to hear you talk but here I am just letting loose. You really have that thing that makes people just confess don’t you?”

“I don’t think…”

“You know what?” Perez interrupts, a smile on his face. “Leave it as be, because talking with you I feel a lot better about myself.”

They let the wind howl for an untold time as they watch the movement of steel.

In the far distance the massive defense platform Ragnarok was being towed to a centralized position within the Zone. Bristling firepower was mounted across its armored surface, an ancient flotilla of war turned into a single focal point of command and battlefield control.

“We really are arming this place up.” Colonel Perez murmurs. “Can’t believe they decided to tow a Defense Platform into here. Waste of resources I say.”

“It is a strategic area.” Markov replies.

“Heh, when was the last time the opinion of an Old Pilot like me mattered?” Perez leans back as he pulls the safety wire. “It’s just the movement of time.”

Markov sighs. “Colonel.”

“Hmm?”

“I made a promise before the battle.” The Pilot suddenly says. “And I couldn’t keep it.”

“That is something we all do kid.” Perez replies while looking at the moving platform. “We just have to realize that there are somethings that can’t be kept.”

They stare into the sky.

“But when we make those promises, we take upon ourselves the burden of breaking them.” He turns to him, voice dimming. “Just make sure those are the burdens you can carry.”

Markov carefully nods. “Yes sir.”

Between them, the wind carries a power stronger than any in the world, ties of Metal bridging distant eras of age with respect and wisdom.

And for an instant, there was peace.

The Decimator’s combat alarm suddenly blares across the sky, sound followed closely by the phones in their pockets.

Two pilots pull the small devices from their fatigues, trained eyes staring at the words displayed.

Both nod.

The canned voice echoes across the Flight Deck, blasting over the droning alarms and red combat lighting. “All hands battlestations, all hands battlestations, prepare for combat.”

Footsteps thunder as flight crew sprint to prepare vectors for combat. Voices yell from engineers starting engines and marshalls point beacons as deck controllers carefully maneuver the stowed vector teams towards launch positions.

Colonel Fernando Perez takes his flight helmet from his station as he jogs past the movement of crew, the heads up display coming to life as the custom made machine locks into place atop his frame.

All members of Gaea Team were online, though, only Mei was actually plugged into the systems within their vector. In her breath, the slightly metallic smell of alcohol and the calm eyes of a killer.

Good enough.

“Dalsma.” The Colonel calls through the communication line. “Give us a rundown.”

“Understood Colonel.” Commander Dalsma begins.

Through weak wireless the voice of the Tactical Controller was jumbled within the movements of static, the four pilots carefully tuning into the channel in their pre-flight preparations. “Gaea Team, we have an incoming Covenant strike force. Currently they have reached the Level Four defense line and are continuing their course at around one hundred and four kilometers per hour.”

Case is the next in, the massive crane holding their environmental suit carefully lowering them into the confines of the vector. Green lights emanate from the helmet as the human within the machine begins the startup sequence, fusion reactor coming online a few seconds online.

Archangel continues. “Vulkan and Sirius Teams are already on site. However, a lower atmospheric updraft is hampering communications from beyond fifty kilometers. Gaea Leader, you’ll have to provide remote comms until further noted.”

Lieutenant Alek Markov comes online, the spin up process of the rotary cannon audible from across the flight deck as the massive rounds of such a weapon are loaded in.

An unfamiliar voice comes across the channel, calm and collected. “Gaea Team, this is Decimator Actual.”

Colonel Perez reaches his craft, beginning the short ladder climb to the cockpit. “Gaea Leader go ahead.”

“Gaea Team, we believe Covenant forces are moving to disable the defense platform Ragnarok before she comes online. Primary objective is the protection of the Platform while Engineers from the 8th fleet get her up and running.”

“You didn’t call just to give us a briefing did you sir.” The Colonel replies as he plugs himself within the craft.

“No I did not.” Captain Ano takes a pair of binoculars to his eyes, watching the explosions of a distant battle grow closer. “Just wanted to say make sure to stay close, don’t know when we need our asses dragged out of the fire.”

Colonel Perez scoffs. “Don’t worry Captain, we’ll try not to stray too far from home.”

Alongside him, the rest of Gaea fly remarks towards the Captain. Some more factual, others more controversial, but all in good nature.

Captain Ano nods. “Good luck Gaea, Decimator Actual out.”

Do you ever wonder what it's like, to feel solid ground beneath your feet?

The Decimator’s Flight Controller speaks through static as he nods towards the screen. “Gaea Team this is Decimator Flight Control, we have you on standby. Prepare for drop.”

Four lights turn green in response.

To hold unmoving dirt and breathe the air we were meant to breathe?

Vectors rumble as the metal beneath them folds away, the four members of Gaea prepared and focused as the countdown begins.

Trained eyes watch as the scene plays out a thousand times in memory, the lights starting to their terminal points.

Tell me…

“Final count.” The voice informs.

After an endless time passes, he says the words. “Launch.”

Four vectors drop from clamps, their shapes accelerating into the corrupted air.

Contrails mark their path, noses towards war and engines back home.

Earth to Sky, Sky to Earth.

Is that something truly worth dying for?

        ACT ONE: END