Escape Vector - Log 2: From Embers

The sound slowly builds, the nuclear noise of vector engines on approach to the city state enough to bring eyes upward.

A pale cloudless afternoon is severed as a squadron of five vectors roars overhead, contrails following them as they disappear back into the concrete horizon. 

Colonel Fernando Perez keeps staring at the trails after the noise passes, a long sigh emanating from his old frame. “Better late than never for a training flight I suppose. Can’t believe Sicario is already back in action.”

Major Mei Yuryev turns from her canteen of ale, facing her superior officer with a wide brimmed smile. “Are you kidding this is a perfect time!”

Case nods, the two meter tall environmental suit agreeing with its companion. “Train while it's fresh Colonel. I can reserve a practice flight slot today if it is needed.”

“No.” Colonel Perez waves off. “I think we’ve got enough combat last week. Don’t even wanna see my vector at this point.”

Mei’s tone turns sour quickly, her thin frame downing the rest of the canteen in a single swig. “Oh come on Colonel! I wanna fly my vector!”

“Nothing’s stopping you guys from reserving a flight slot.” Colonel Perez motions towards the unspoken of the three members. “Right Markov?”

Lieutenant Alek Markov stares back, quietly answering. “If Mei and Case decide to reserve a practice flight, then I will join them.”

“That’s not fucking fair!” Mei slams the table. “We need Colonel Perez if you’re coming with us!”

“Can’t beat Markov in a wargame without me?” The Colonel smiles. “Might need to brush up a bit.”

Case coughs. “Together, Mei and I have a four percent chance of defeating the Lieutenant. With the Colonel, that increases to twenty percent.”

“Is that based on the simulation data?” Markov asks.

“Correct.”

“That’s skewed then.” Colonel Perez sips his own drink as he interrupts. “Markov flies better in the real thing.”

Mei and Case slowly turn to stare at the Lieutenant, pale blue eyes and optical sensors staring at the young man. Brown eyes blink, Markov answering the unspoken question. “It feels more right when I can feel the maneuvers being pulled.”

“That’s not fair!” Mei yells as she waves her empty cup towards the end of the bar. “I WANT MORE! NOW!”

It must’ve been a sight.

Four Pilots of Vector Team Gaea loitering amongst a bombed out bar in backwater Crion like troubled youth, gods of the modern war casually exchanging the pleasantries of the post combat world in the ashes of battle.

The few passerbys shoot surprised glances at them, the propaganda of the recent past months suddenly now becoming reality.

Gaea Team, the first line of defense against the tyranny of the Syndicate. Warrior gods all, their combat footage cut from gun cameras and shaky footage from naval vessels broadcast to every screen, every family, every prevailing advertisement.

The faces of them were staples for those under the Consortium flag, celebrities in their own circles of Vector Pilots for sure, but gathered to form Gaea they became unstoppable both on the battlefield and on the homefront. 

Colonel Fernando Perez, the Soldier. Two awarded Consortium Stars and decades of service for the blue flag. His time within the Vector Corps had given him the ultimate status as leader. The calm, collected man at the tip of the spear.

 Major Mei Yuryev, the Striker. A legendary ego matched with legendary piloting skills, the Department ran wild with the exploits and shenanigans of Gaea Two’s days on shore leave. Most of them fake of course, but just a few were, disappointingly, locked in reality. 

Case, the Machine. There was intrigue in mystery, and the armored quarantine suit oozed with it. The massive form, the colossal armored vector, close to everything about Case was an absolute unknown. Though, that didn’t detract from the Department’s pieces on it.

Lieutenant Alek Markov.

The thin, staved frame was almost the unofficial focal point of Gaea Team. The sheer beauty and lethality of his combat performance was unmatched across the Modern World. A human being in flesh turned into a monster within the cockpit of the war machine.

“Gaea!” A familiar tone calls to them from behind.

The blue of the naval uniform is contrasted against the bombed out building, Commander Dalsma calmly approaching the Pilot’s table with a thick file binder underneath his real left arm. “Sorry I’m late.”

Mei groans, staring down the Colonel with lulled eyes. “Fuck me you invited him?!”

“I didn’t.” The Colonel blinks. “What the hell brings you out here Commander Dalsma?!”

“Well, I was in the neighborhood so I decided to stop by and check up on Gaea Team.” The Naval Officer forcibly smiles as he takes a plastic chair from the empty table next to the Pilots. “Hope you are all doing well of course?” 

Four pairs of eyes stare at him in silence.

“I am doing well.” Markov answers forwardly.

“Of course you are Markov.” Commander Dalsma chuckles, detaching his prosthetic right arm as he settles into the chair, placing the metal instrument on the table with a thunk. “What about all of you?”

All of them continue to stare at him.

Case clears its throat. “Drinking with a non-squadron member after combat is considered bad luck, should you remember.”

“What?” The naval officer gives Gaea Team a shocked, slightly offended look. “As a retired Vector Pilot, which technically gives me veteran status, I reserve the right to drink with whatever squadron I want! And not to mention it’s tradition to buy your Tactical Controller drinks as well! I’m deeply offended Case that you would… ”

“Oh come on Dalsma.” Colonel Perez waves the man off as he laughs. “We’re just giving you some shit for your calls last week.”

The retired pilot sighs as he shifts his weight. A seething anger rising. “Are you kidding me Colonel?! You sit in that chair for twenty hours while coordinating two task forces against a Syndicate assault. Trust me, changes your fucking perspective real fast.”

The Colonel jumps at the reaction. “Dalsma, is everything ok?”\

For a moment the eyes fade, shaking his head as he settles into his chair again. “Sorry, I’m just fucking starving.”

The bartender arrives with a steel pitcher, filling Mei’s fifth cup of ale to the brim.

Flagging the man down himself Commander Dalsma reaches into his dirty dark blue uniform, pulling out a crumpled wad of ration allotments. “How much for a full meal here?”

The tender takes a moment to think, a raspy voice responding. “What’s a full meal to you… sir?”

“Two thousand calories.” Commander Dalsma replies.

The tender takes the ration cards with wide eyes, counting them up. “It’s five allotments for that much. This is much more than… ”

“Do any of you want anything?” Dalsma asks the vector team.

Glances are exchanged, unspoken words of understanding bridged from both active and retired pilots.

“Suppose not.” Commander Dalsma smiles. “And you know who these people are right?”

“O-of course.” The man nods with a slightly scared smile. “Thank all of you for your service. I will get that right out for you sir.”

It only took a single week for things to return to normal in Crion.

The blasted out hulks of housing blocks meets with the cleaning crews scraping away debris for recycling. Citizens ride hastily set up transportation systems salvaged from the corpses of armored vehicles, their factories riddled with bullet holes from fresh firefights.

Across the street, a group of schooless children barter collected autocannon shell casings and exploded ordnance. Dealing massive artillery rounds all the way down to collected dog tags in a skeleton market of blind innocence.

It was at least somewhat reminiscent of the normality of a Consortium City State: the terrifying reality of the modern world suppressed in totalitarian order and brutalist concrete structure.

The plates arrive at the table, meal rated in decadence and excess. An impossibility, the consumption of such luxury utterly insane.

Grilled soy protein, a whole loaf of bread, and dehydrated vegetables were spread out among four different plates. An entire day’s ration of foodstuffs brought out, devoured without a thought to its importance.

Colonel Perez blinks. “Dalsma you gotta eat slower or you’re gonna get indigestion.”

For a moment he wipes his face with a dirty sleeve, swallowing his mouthful before speaking. “I haven’t eaten anything in over forty hours ok? Fucking Department of War had me and the entire bridge crew arrested.”

“WAIT WHAT?!” Mei slams her hands on the table excitedly. “WHY?!”

“I don’t know!” Dalsma yells back as he takes a huge bite of bread.

Case turns. “Perhaps it is due to Ground Team Rook’s… incident during their operation. Commander Dalsma, what is your communications clearance level?”

The man swallows before responding. “Level nine, just like all the other Tactical Controllers…”

“Lieutenant-Commander Kemos, Tactical Controller Lodestar, was arrested forty hours ago as well.” Case interrupts. “It seems that all individuals with level nine and above radio clearance that were involved in the Defense of Crion have been arrested.”

“But what about the rest of the bridge?” Dalsma asks, his phone vibrating with an incoming message.

“That is why I believe it is related to Rook’s operation.” Case answers. “The Marines that were due to return to the Decimator at 0700 today have not arrived.”

“Lieutenant Tiana’s and the squad’s not back?” Dalsma stops.

Colonel Perez grumbles. “This is a Board level investigation. Whatever’s going on, the entire Decimator’s in deep.”

“Curiosity kills the cat.” Markov supplies.

Case pauses. “Interesting… I seem to have my clearance code revoked. I am unable to access Crion’s citizen surveillance network.”

“Too deep.” The Colonel repeats. “Decimator’s locked up in the dockyard for a reason. And I tell you, it’s not for the ‘reactor upgrade’ Engineering’s working on. I suggest we all keep our heads down.”

Mei stops, seriousness beginning to seep into her. “Board’s not gonna… end any of us are they?”

“Too important.” Markov answers.

“Gaea Team is safe.” The Colonel agrees, pointing over to Dalsma. “You Commander, well you’re relatively disposable now aren’t you?”

“Fuck off.” Commander Dalsma speaks through a spoonful of food.

Perez chuckles. “Make no mistake: Gaea and the Decimator will remain as is. The only thing to worry about is Rook.”

“They saw something they weren’t supposed to see.” Case begins.

“Oh Rook’ll be back.” Colonel Perez speaks with an ancient tone. “I’ve seen this happen a hundred times before. The only question left unanswered for us is why the Board’s making such a big deal out of this situation.”

“I believe that…”

“Ah.” The Colonel hushes the environmental suit. “Case, some questions are best left unanswered.”

The thing silences itself, the table falling into a lull as the Squadron idly sips from stainless steel mugs.

Commander Dalsma speaks up as he finishes his second plate, wiping away crumbs from his mouth. “Oh, and Captain Ano’s going to be joining us soon. He just got released as well.”

“And you invited him?!” Mei slams the table as she chugs down the rest of the ale.

“Seemed like the right thing to do.” Dalsma shrugs. “I mean, we’re a five minute walk away from the Military Center anyway.”

“Take care when spilling military secrets, Commander.” Colonel Perez chuckles.

“You guys do understand that Markov told me where you were right?” Dalsma smiles.

“YOU DID?!” Mei turns with horror.

“He asked, and I answered.” Markov defensively stares back. “He said it was for helping find Gale Squadron.”

“That was a lie.” Dalsma admits

“You Third Fleet fucks!” Mei yells.

“Mei, you do understand that you are in the Third Fleet?” Case counters.

Mei grunts, standing from her seat as her voice booms across the bombed out restaurant. “Still doesn’t feel right! I am a PROUD FOURTH FLEET VECTOR PILOT. I REFUSE TO BE MUDDLED TOGETHER WITH THESE IDIOTS WHO THINK THAT THEY’RE SO IM…”

“Chaotic, as usual.” Captain Nathaniel Ano whispers to Commander Dalsma.

As if apperating from thin air, the Captain of the battleship Decimator stares at the shocked forms of Gaea Team with an entertained smile. Silence reigns before Colonel Perez answers. “Captain.”

“Oh don’t let me interrupt your fun.” The Captain calmly nods towards the rest of the team.

Mei brimley smiles as she continues. “... IMPORTANT! SO SILENT OHHHH, OHHHH SO MANY SECRETS. OHHH LOOK WE ARE SOOOOO AMAZING! FUCK!”

Captain Ano flags down the sole bartender, whispering his order as he produces two ration cards from his pocket.

“The Third Fleet did supply your vector.” Case argues. “We worked very hard to obtain the hardware.”

“OH YEAH SOOO AMAZING!” Mei yells back.

“A thank you would suffice.” Case sighs, the tone filled with static through the suit’s filters. “Though, I suppose that with your… disposition such a task would be… monumental.”

The girl shrinks for a moment, eyes turned towards the environmental suit. “Fuck you.”

“That will suffice.” Case nods.

“Is everything alright Captain?” Colonel Perez glances over to the tired form at the end of the table. “You seem… concerned.”

“Frustrated would be a better term.” Markov supplies.

“I’m fine.” Captain Ano sighs.

Case grunts, optical sensors focused on the man. “Lie detection software declares an eighty four point seven percent probability you are deceiving us.”

“He’s lying.” Colonel Perez confirms.

“Yes he is.” Lieutenant Markov adds.

All three of them stare at Mei, who pauses before turning to Captain Ano. “Captain, how could you?! Shame on you for lying to us!”

“They won’t stop until you answer them.” Dalsma smiles.

“You sure you want to hear this?” The Captain sighs. “It’s fresh from the top brass and you won’t like it.”

Captain Ano stares at them all, the trained power of the naval arts nothing against the talent and insight of the vector corps. In their silence: an answer, forced upon the mere mortal he was. He takes a deep breath, the hero delivering devastation to modern gods. “Decimator’s secondary vector flight is being transferred out. Sicario, Gale, and Phoenix; all of them.”

The expressions change instantly, smiles into frowns, laughter to shock. 

“WHAT?!” Mei jumps from her chair as she slams the table. “WHY?!”

“Board doesn’t believe that concentrating four vector teams to one fleet asset is an effective distribution of combat power.” Captain Ano stares blankly. “For now, Gaea will be the only vector team assigned to the Decimator.”

“That’s not how Vector Combat works.” Colonel Perez stares. “If the Syndicate sends one of their 50 man vector divisions we’d stand no chance.”

Case stops. “Military Charter Code A.82., Section Seven states that the Consortium Central Board is not allowed to interfere with military operations.”

“When was the last time the Board followed charters?” Colonel Perez shakes his head. “We’re in deep right now.”

“That was the good news.” Captain Ano stops. “The Decimator’s going to be transferred to auxiliary duties for the Board. As of now, we’re no longer under Third Fleet Special Warfare.”

“Yes!” Mei jumps.

Case sighs. “That is not a good thing.”

“Oh…”

“That’s not legal.” Markov speaks up. “Is it?”

“Emergency war powers.” Captain Ano cites. “Don’t forget, Consortium’s officially been at war for the past two hundred years.”

“Three hundred.” Case corrects. “Since the Board is the technical governing successor to the Pan-Pacific Coalition Congress.”

“Legality aside.” Commander Dalsma interrupts. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Captain Ano admits. “Department of War came aboard and arrested half of my bridge. Got the briefing shoved on me while I was being interrogated.”

“And they didn’t feed me for almost two days!” Commander Dalsma yells. “It’s criminal!”

“Colonel.” The Captain turns. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

The wisdom of a hundred wars sips his drink, thinking the situation over. “Decimator’s about to get chartered out to a corporation, auxiliary service is just a pretense to get her out of Third Fleet hands. Might be a good thing, given that we’re out three vector teams.”

“A corporate charter?!” Commander Dalsma turns.

“Corporate-Military Charters are more common outside the Third Fleet.” Case adds. “Commander Dalsma and I have never experienced such a scenario.”

“I have.” Colonel Perez turns to Captain Ano. “And you, Captain?”

“Once.” Captain Ano answers. “But that was a simple trade-route patrol. And I thought with the Merchant Marine Act the Board was going to start phasing out Military-Corporate Charters.”

“Consortium approved Merchant Marines do not have as much firepower as a military vessel by a long shot.” Colonel Perez states. “And the Decimator along with Gaea Team… well one can imagine how much power can be projected with her.”

Commander Dalsma turns to Case. “Must be paying out a fortune to rent us then.”

“Beyond a fortune.” Colonel Perez adds.

Case stops as it searches up its accessible database, piecing together patchwork data together. “Captain Ano, for chartering out three weeks of combat patrols with the Light Cruiser Shanjing, Krousu Fabrications paid out eight hundred and thirteen thousand, five hundred and seven standard kebs worth of bonds and stock options to the Ninth Fleet. These were used to then purchase the Combat Hauler Vancouver.”

“EIGHT HUNDRED THOUSAND KEBS?!” Mei screams as she almost spits out her mouthful of alcohol. “THAT’S LIKE… MY DAD’S NET WORTH TIMES TWO.”

“Your family’s rich Mei.” Markov observes. “Really rich.”

She blushes, glancing all of them over. “Well… I mean… yeah.”

“That explains why we had around a dozen corporate observers on board.” Captain Ano recalls. “An investment like that could tank a share price.”

“And that was for a light cruiser.” Colonel Perez focuses. “Imagine how much you’d need to charter out a Battleship, much less for one that’s cutting edge.”

“And the best vector team in the Consortium.” Commander Dalsma adds.

“You mean the best vector team in the world?!” Mei jumps.

“A million kebs wouldn’t even cut it for the Decimator.” Captain Ano smiles slightly. “Last I heard even the First Fleet wouldn’t charter out anything bigger than a cruiser.”

 “Decimator’s charter cost would most likely cross the ten million keb price.” Case calculates.

“I’d bet on thirty million.” Colonel Perez turns to Case. “Given the fact that the Board obviously wants to keep this charter under wraps.”

“What do you mean Colonel?”

“The Third Fleet obviously had plans for us after the Battle of Medeterria, and probably now more so than ever after the Syndicate Invasion here. They’re not going to be happy about both the Decimator and Gaea getting plucked.”

“You have not answered the central question on why The Board is willing to pay thirty million kebs.” Case asks.

“Well, it’s hush money. Third Fleet knows the Board’s probably planning something big, so the Board’s paying them enough for three new stealth corvettes in order to keep it under the table.”

The entire group stops to think the Colonel's words over. Wisdom the marker of truth, his forty years in life giving him the edge of the relative youth of the gathered personnel.

“So who’s chartering the Decimator?” Lieutenant Markov asks.

“Has to be a corporation who has someone on the Board.” Colonel Perez narrows. “Needs to have the political clout and cash to pull the Decimator out.”

“Boeing Aerospace-Consolidated?” Dalsma offers. “They’ve got the cash to throw.”

“They have no need for a military charter.” Case shakes their head. 

“Yeah you’re right Case, Boeing-Aerospace is like five hundred years old right? They practically have their own private navy in Seattle.” Commander Dalsma agrees. “Marines and Vectors too.”

Case nods. “Then there are five possibilities remaining: Federated Logistics, Terraria, Clederic, the Centaurus Conglomerate, and Arch-Tec.”

Colonel Perez starts. “Clederic we can rule out. I don’t think their large scale salvaging operations need military charters.”

“And Arch-Tec is mostly development and research.” Dalsma adds.

“That leaves Federated Logistics, Centaurus, and Terraria right???” Mei laughs. “Gotta be Federated Logistics then! We’re going Pirate hunting!”

 “I don’t think Federated Logistics needs a battleship and a vector team to guard one of their heavy haulers.” Commander Dalsma interrupts. “Plus, if I remember correctly they were one of the major factions lobbying for the Merchant Marine Act. Much cheaper to hire an army of independents than charter out half a division of frigates.”

“So Terraria or Centaurus?” Mei blinks.

“Currently the two largest mega-corps in the Consortium.” Captain Ano nods. “Probably the only two that can honestly buy us out.”

Case pauses, data coming together within the heavily armored environmental suit. “The Terraria Group is primarily based on biological and pharmaceutical companies, with heavy investment in military manufacturing. The Centaurus Conglomerate consists of heavy industries in both civilian manufacturing and scientific research. However, the Conglomerate does also have a high investment in military manufacturing.”

“Ominous.” The Captain comments.

“Not sure which one I dislike more.” The Colonel chuckles. “You guys have seen their retrofitted haulers right? Terraria has those four kilometer long botanical barges they trade with and Centarius has those giant manufacturing platforms they supply to cities.”

“I’ve only seen Centarius’ platforms.” Captain Ano raises. “Back when they rented one out to Republica, I used to see it every day in Lower School. They had that beast shackled up above the Industrial District, literally blocked the sun out in that area of the City for three months.”

“And Terraria Pharmaceuticals were the ones who provided this quarantine suit.” Case answers as well, a metal hand knocking on thick armor.

“I think it's Centaurus.” Lieutenant Markov speaks quietly, silencing the group.

“Centaurus?” Dalsma pauses. “Why?”

“Most likely for a salvage operation.” Colonel Perez turns to Markov as he answers the young man’s question. “Probably something the Syndicate or any of the big corps wants to get their hands on. With the Decimator and Gaea Team as an enforcer, nobody in their right mind will be willing to snatch their prize.”

“That does not discount the Terraria Group. They could also want the same thing as the Centaurus Conglomerate.” Case adds.

“True.” Mei points.

“Actually I’d agree with both of you on this one.” Colonel Perez nods. “Honestly I’d be more privy to Terraria, with the whole pharmaceuticals side of things. I had a great experience with them.”

“I did not.” Markov coldly counters with dead eyes.

They all sit in silence, Captain Ano’s ordered food coming a few minutes later.

Mei speaks up first, breaking up the hollow silence. “How long is the charter going to last then?!”

“Depends.” Colonel Perez smiles. “Could be a week, could be as long as a month.”

“We have more important things to do!” Mei yells. “What about Sky Team?! What about the Syndicate?!”

“Ain’t got no choice now with the Board mixed into this.” Dalsma sighs. “Sky Team’s gonna start tearing up the world if we don’t get back.”

“Don’t worry it’s only a month.” Colonel Perez assures. “We’ll be back with a vengeance… hopefully with a vector flight behind our backs.”

“Yeah! We kicked their asses last time, we’ll do it again!” Mei declares loudly.

“A mutal ass kicking.” The Colonel smiles dryly. “Last time Sky Four got the better of you Markov. As team leader I’d recommend some polish work on dogfighting.”

“I will try Colonel.” Markov nods.

“Mhm.” The Colonel sighs with content, his gaze turning towards his team. “Well, I think we’re done here. What’s our next location Case?”

“East Length Park. It contains East Central Lake as well as several relaxing locations. I believe that is good for those of us with… inhibited senses.”

Mei glances over at Case with a sly smile, face flushed red. “Oh come on, I’m not that drunk!”

“Good call.” The Colonel stands, reaching into his pocket as he pulls out several pieces of coinage.

Commander Dalsma speaks up. “Wait you’re leaving us here?!”

“Shouldn’t have ordered food.” Colonel Perez smiles brimley with a wink, dumping the kebs on the counter. “Should be enough to cover us.”

The bartender stares, counting the physical currency in shock. “Uh, sir this is…”

“Covers for them too.” The Colonel waves over to Captain and Commander. 

Mei sticks her tongue out at the dejected pair as Case attempts to fit their massive two meter tall frame of metal through the door frame.

Lieutenant Markov pauses before he stands from the table, nodding towards Captain Ano. “Thank you for joining us Captain.”

“Of course Lieutenant.” Captain Ano replies. “Any time.”

The pair watches as Gaea Team disappears into the streets of Crion, legends disappearing into the chaos of the city state.

“An entirely new breed of vector team here I tell you.” Commander Dalsma states as he continues to eat.

“Weren’t you the one who originally helped conceive Gaea?” Ano asks rhetorically.

Dalsma nods. “I did, but I didn’t expect them to come out like this though. Just like family.”

Captain Ano shrugs, the culture of the vector pilot foreign beyond the man’s comprehension. “The best of the best I guess.”