Vanguard Rising: A Space Opera Adventure

by A. C. Hadfield

  ID successfully transferred…

  Facial Recognition: Positive.

  Identification: Positive.

  Registered Name: Harlan Rubik.

  Residential status: Atlas Station resident, Tier-3 privilege.

  Role: Senior investigative officer, department: Silicon Runners.

  Rights: Investigative rights. Full movement rights.

  Philosophy Membership: Stoic.

  Parents: None. State Orphan.

  Marriage Status: Married. Separated.

  Dependents: None.

  DNA Code confirmation: DB-5809-KK-331.

  “Your identification details are confirmed, Mr. Rubik. Now, about Irena Selles…”

  “She’s in league with the group, Captain. My investigations found that she met them during her time on Earth working for the ERP. When Station Nord was attacked, and the rogue abbot and all members from the scientific group were killed, I became suspicious that Irena was the only survivor. I believe that she was working with the group to identify places of low radiation from which to scavenge and later trade contraband, which, as you know, is a crime. In my line of work, a person’s heritage or family name doesn’t matter. The law is the law. Of that I’m sure we’re in agreement.”

  Harlan looked at his terminal. They were quickly running out of time and would need to boost to Earth with more than two g to make up for lost time. Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “This shuttle has just a few minutes of air. During their evasion, they damaged their systems. I request an immediate transfer so I can take them back to Atlas Station for processing.”

  Yet another delay as the dim-witted captain was likely thinking things over. Each second was punctuated by a stabbing pain in Harlan’s head. He was going to need some heavy-duty painkillers in the very near future—if things worked out as planned.

  “Your request is approved, Mr. Rubik. Prepare for boarding.”

  Harlan pumped his fist and shut off the comm. Then to the crew: “Okay, everyone. The bait is set. You guys just need to create enough of a ruckus to give me the opportunity. Avoid killing or hurting anyone. This is it, brace yourselves.” He then bent down and stared at Wilbur beneath the console. “And you, stay where you are and don’t move—unless something happens to me; then it’s on you. Okay?”

  Wilbur nervously nodded his head and slunk back into the shadows.

  A short moment later the Goat rocked forward violently. The sound of motors whirred, sending vibrations throughout the hull. Harlan stood up and readied himself. Irena looked up at him, fear in her eyes. “You’ll be okay,” he mouthed to her. “Trust me.”

  She nodded and turned, along with the rest of the crew, to face the rear of the ship as the airlock door opened and the first two SMF soldiers entered.

  A shot of adrenaline fired through Harlan’s nervous system.

  The two armed women stormed inside, rifles held ready.

  Harlan and Bella shared a quick look, and Harlan nodded.

  Bella then shot up from her seated position and pretended to struggle with the restraints. The two women dashed forward to her, and a further SMF soldier stepped over the threshold. Given the stripes on his lapel, Harlan knew this was Captain Saffile. One look at him confirmed his earlier prediction: he was a smug prick.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Saffile demanded. “Control that woman.”

  With that, Harlan reached down for the webbing, pulled out a knock-out grenade, armed it, and rolled it along the floor. The ruckus that Bella and the others had created meant no one saw it coming.

  Saffile glared up at Harlan and was about to remonstrate him when Harlan simply closed the bulkhead and counted to three. A loud, booming thud confirmed the grenade had gone off. Harlan, with his heart racing and breath ragged, grabbed another two grenades and counted to sixty for the chemical compound to dissipate. He then opened the bulkhead and dashed over the still bodies of the crew and the SMF soldiers.

  Another couple, the pilot and gunner, Harlan presumed, were approaching the airlock, scanning their way, their rifles up at their chests. Harlan threw one of the grenades and turned back as it went off. Without wasting any time, he readied the confusion grenade he had taken from the guard outside Hugo’s apartment and tossed it through the airlock, deep into the Wickham’s hull, just in case there were more soldiers inside.

  A couple of shouts followed, and then silence.

  Harlan leapt over the prone bodies and headed back to the cockpit. He retrieved his rifle, then made his way to the Wickham. Once inside the SMF vessel, he moved slower, more deliberately, checking all corners and shadows. He confirmed the crew of five were incapacitated, breathing, and unhurt. They would be unconscious for at least four or more hours.

  As for Irena, Bella, and the rest, he’d bring them around using the standard-issue med-kit within the small but fully functioning med-bay aboard the Wickham. He confirmed that it was fully stocked. He’d been planning on that. It was rare for any combat to take place these days, so unless someone injured themselves during maintenance, there was likely no reason to use the supplies.

  He made his way back onto the Goat and checked on the crew. Like the SMF soldiers, they were unconscious, but all okay according to their vital signs.

  “Wilbur, it worked,” Harlan said. “I need your help now. Are you okay?”

  The small man eased out from under the console and nodded. “I’m good. I hope everyone else is going to be okay when they wake up.”

  “They’ll be fine. Just help me get them onto the Wickham.”

  One by one, they took Bella, Irena, Bashir, and Greta from one ship to the other, removing the gags and makeshift restraints. They stowed their prone forms into the various individual bunks of the ship. There were eight in total, meaning plenty of space for everyone, and each one equipped with its own personal SMF-issue med-kit—smaller than the one in the med-bay, but with all the essentials required for small wounds and ailments.

  “What are we doing with the Wickham crew exactly?” Wilbur asked.

  “Firstly, we make sure they have enough food and water rations for a few days. I’ve programmed the autopilot to send the Goat on a long orbit around Luna. We’ll have plenty of time to get to Earth and back. And don’t worry, they won’t be able to override the program. They’ll be stuck, but alive and well.”

  “What’s stopping them from reporting us the minute they wake up? The SMF still have a number of military bases on Earth after all.”

  “None that are that close to where we’ll be going. And besides, I’ve sabotaged the comm unit. Unless they can conjure wiring and components from thin air, they’re stuck until the autopilot delivers them safely back to Asimovia.”

  “Sanjeet isn’t going to be happy that you’ve messed with his ship.”

  “With all due respect, Wilbur, do you think I give a shit about Sanjeet’s feelings right now? There’re bigger things to worry about. I’ll throw him a favor later if we survive.”

  “They’re going to string you up by the neck when you get back.”

  “That might well be the case, but if we’re successful, I’ll worry about the SMF then. Let’s just focus on the job at hand. We need to bring the crew around and get up to speed.” Harlan checked his terminal. “We’re going to have to thrust up to two-point-three g now to get to Earth. Let’s get busy.”

  Between the two of them, and using the drugs in the med-kits, they managed to bring the crew around and get them stabilized. Harlan activated the Goat’s autopilot, which sent it off into a long journey around Luna. He also left a file on the ship’s system apologizing and explaining that he didn’t mean anyone any harm and that he would gladly explain his actions upon his return. Naturally he didn’t say from where he’d be returning; he couldn’t take the risk of the SMF group potentially harboring a Vanguard member.

  He just hoped that if they did survive their confrontation with Luca, he would be able to recover enough evidence to expose Vanguard and end their pl
ans for good.

  34

  Even with the drugs to help against the effects of two-point-three g of thrust, Harlan’s muscles and bones ached as though they were being pulverized by a very slow industrial compacting machine. Despite that, the drugs helped him sleep for just over half the journey. And to his great relief, his headache had also dissipated.

  He shifted his body within the confines of the gel-layered crash couch, stretching his legs out along the full length. To his right, on the other side of the bunk, Irena lay in a fetal position, her arms wrapped around her knees. She breathed steadily, her exhales coming in shorter bursts due to the pressure on her lungs.

  Harlan felt it, too, a weight pressing down on his chest.

  A large terminal beside the bunk’s door showed him the varied metrics of their journey. At some point during his drug-assisted sleep, they had experienced the halfway mark of zero gravity, where the Wickham’s engines rotated from forward to reverse thrust, slowing their velocity so that they could slip into the correct orbit for a safe approach to Earth. Given the time the QCA had left before it was compromised, they had a short window within which to stop Luca when they arrived.

  Harlan and Bella had discussed the best route. They had decided on coming in just over the equator, where the weather systems were currently at their least severe. No one fancied the prospect of dropping into Earth’s atmosphere and right into one of the extreme weather systems that now ravaged the planet on a daily basis.

  The fact that Luca had set up his base of operations among the ruins of the Neuschwanstein Castle was no accident. Given the elevation, the nineteenth-century castle had escaped the flooding from the nearby Forggensee lake. Most of the low-lying land had been swallowed up. The area was also one of the lowest in the northern hemisphere for radiation levels, having escaped the China-Russia exchange during the War.

  The choice of location also made sense from a travel perspective: one of the first Edwards Elevators to be built lay a few hundred miles to the east, providing easy access to space and, among the alpine mountain range, serving as a substation for one of the world-spanning maglev rings—a Birch Loop—which Harlan had decided they would use to get close to the castle. They’d save fuel that way and should have plenty for the return journey.

  Without the use of the loop and the elevator, they’d have to burn all their remaining fuel just to escape Earth’s gravity well, and even that wasn’t a sure thing.

  “Hey, how are you feeling?” Irena’s voice was croaky and strained, but she sounded positive. Perhaps it was relief.

  “Given the circumstances, pretty good, though I’ll be glad when we’re out of this thrust.”

  “I have to warn you, Harlan. Even though Atlas and the other stations have their artificial gravity, it’ll still feel different on the surface. It took me a while to get used to real planetary conditions.”

  “With any luck, we won’t be here long enough to notice.”

  Irena’s face shifted to a darker, more serious expression. “Do you think we’ll make it… survive, I mean? Luca’s clearly a madman. Who knows what defensive strategies he has ready to employ?”

  Harlan had been thinking about this. Although Luca was no fool, he was, ultimately, a pragmatist. “Considering how Vanguard has been hiding in the shadows all this time, it would be difficult, I think, for him to organize anything too elaborate. That he’s in an old ruin tells me he wanted to stay under the radar and probably didn’t expect anyone to find him. And why would he? They’ve had all his planned for weeks, if not months. And I’m sure they wouldn’t have expected us to uncover their secrets.”

  “I hope that’s the case. We could use a break. I can’t help but be hesitant, though.”

  “The thing with Luca is that he has a deep-rooted sense of superiority and arrogance. Even when we were kids—now that I look back on it—he showed signs that he thought he was more capable, smarter, and above the other orphans.”

  “That’s good for us.” Irena took a few deep breaths before continuing. “It means he underestimates you—and us. Probably always has; hence why he thought he could get away with faking his death. That gives us the advantage.”

  “Assuming he doesn’t spot us coming. There is the very real chance that he’s scanning with radar and other technologies just to be on the safe side. We have to assume we’re going to encounter resistance. How much… I guess we’ll have to wait and see. At least we have a gunship now. I certainly feel better about it than I did with the prospect of making the journey in the Goat.”

  Irena and Harlan locked eyes and said nothing for a moment. The scale of the situation pressed on them as heavily as the gravity generated by the ship’s thrust.

  “Harlan… if things don’t go well, I just wanted… well, I—”

  “We’re making it back alive,” Harlan said, ending the sentiment immediately. He didn’t want to bring too much emotion into the situation. “Let’s just focus on one thing at a time.”

  “Aye, Captain.” She gave him a quick smile and then looked away. Her cheeks had reddened. Harlan wanted to say something to reduce her embarrassment. He said nothing, though, not wanting to let himself get distracted. He had to see this whole thing as though it were just another case file.

  The future of the Sol-Fed, and possibly that of humanity, was on the line.

  Justice first. Emotion second. That was what Marius would have told him. A good stoic takes things as they come. He doesn’t let emotion dictate his actions. Stoics put the larger scheme before their own desires. Harlan had never been as good a stoic as Marius, but he was willing to keep trying.

  After checking in with the rest of the crew, he activated the sleep drugs to ensure he was as rested as possible upon their arrival. He suspected he was going to need every ounce of energy he could find.

  A grinding noise woke Harlan from his assisted slumber. At first, he wasn’t sure where he was and struggled against the straps around his chest and legs.

  “Hold still. We’re preparing to enter atmosphere.”

  Harlan blinked and tried to focus. “Irena? That you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Bella warned it’s going to be a little bumpy for a while.” Irena indicated with a nod toward the terminal screen on the wall of their shared bunk.

  The external video feed showed the tips of the telescopic, backswept wings moving into place, converting the gunship from a space-bound vessel into one suitable for atmospheric flight. The grinding noise stopped when the wings locked in.

  “Sorry,” Harlan said. “I was a little disoriented. The sleep drugs always do that to me.”

  “You were fidgeting a lot in your sleep.”

  “And you were watching me?”

  Irena shrugged, then smiled. “I was still awake, and didn’t have much else to do. I forgot to pack a good book or holofilm.”

  “As long as I was entertaining… “

  He sat up, stretched his legs ahead of him, and pulled the chest straps down while he remained in a seated position. Irena moved over and sat next to him and did the same with another pair inset into the bunk’s wall.

  Bella’s voice echoed over the ship’s internal comm system. “Listen up, people, the weather systems aren’t too bad, but they’re not that great either. It will be a little bumpy with the turbulence. A countdown and a lovely view of this blasted planet are available on the terminal screens for your traveling pleasure.”

  “This is it, then,” Irena said, turning away from Harlan to look at the screen.

  The video feed showed the glowing ball of blue and white that was once humanity’s home. The image grew larger until it dominated the display. With every minute, the view resolved further as they made their way through the various layers of atmosphere. The cloud layer began as a thick white curtain but gave way to a patchy texture. This fragmented layer eventually gave way until the video feed was now showing the Atlantic Ocean and the northern hemisphere, populated by north Africa and Europe.

  Harlan h
ad seen these land masses on maps and video feeds for years, but to be here now and see them with his own eyes was a humbling experience. To think that his ancestors were born right down there in a barely visible tract of land once known as Greece gave him a sense of connectedness he’d not felt for some time.

  It was not the feeling of coming home like so many other space-born people suggest. The sense of him being some kind of invading alien remained. His connection to Earth was just an abstract idea, ephemeral and easily dissolved with the anxiety he felt about coming here. A rumbling noise pulled him out of his thoughts. The gunship’s terrestrial engines came online, presumably to help stabilize the craft as it descended through pockets of turbulence.

  “I hate this part,” Harlan said. “Haven’t been down to the surface for years.”

  The ship rocked violently, the hull groaning against the battering of their velocity through the winds and changing of atmospheric pressure. On the screen, wisps of cloud whipped by. Below the feed, the local time read 09:12 a.m. Harlan considered making a joke about being on time for breakfast, but thought better of it.

  Irena reached out and grabbed his hand. He squeezed back and said, “It’s going to be fine. Bella’s crew have been up and down from the planet to Atlas more times than I can count.”

  “This isn’t my first time, either, but it doesn’t stop my guts from tightening.”

  A high-pitched keening noise came from somewhere toward the rear of the ship’s hull. The auxiliary engines, designed for in-planet maneuvering, kicked up a notch with an initial thud, then a roar. The force pushed against Harlan’s chest. And then they were banking.

  It took a great deal of effort to turn his head to look at the screen.

  When he did, he saw the first snatches of land and water. The latter was a rich blue, as natural as anything he had seen, even though he knew most of the life within had long since ceased to exist. All the oceans contained now were giant shoals of jellyfish. The very same organisms that had blocked the water inflow of many of the world’s nuclear power stations, leading to untold devastation. That was even before the nukes started flying across continents, the results of which were evident in the land below. The screen told them they were flying at Mach 4. The gunship’s hull was reaching hundreds of degrees in temperature, but the special alloy was able to dissipate the heat into sinks, which converted it back into energy.