Launch Vector
Copyright © 2004, Brandon Gillespie


Preface
        
        Maris Lovak flicked a small square datapad between his fingers, spinning it on its axis while vaguely staring across his captains quarters. He sat at his desk on board the Rosvar, feeling the deep settling of age in more than just gray streaks in his hair. The small datapad spun with little effort, its metallic label flashing in the light. His chair creaked as he leaned forward and snapped the square bit of technology, terminating its spin.
It should weigh more than that, he thought.
        He picked up a picture from the edge of his desk. A small girl was playing in the rain, tucked under an umbrella. A mischievous smile just barely peaked out from underneath its protection. But the datapad pulled at his thoughts, the official emblem of Tanth on its surface glared back at him from his desk. The gold shield and eagle taunted him in its bold sense of duty. Even a picture of his Sasha didn't lift his spirits this time.
        He felt a subtle shift in the ship, something only a seasoned spacer is able to detect. A glance out the external view port showed a solid starscape.
        Maris stood and walked around his desk while holding the picture. A sense of loss was building in him, something unperceived yet eroding at the edges of his psyche. He hoped she would be taken care of. Carefully, Maris Lovak set the picture down on his desk and left the room. As the door quietly slid open, the urgent yet subtle noise of the active bridge washed over him.
        The helmsman noticed his entrance, a young Elebhar, like most in the military, probably looking upon this mission as a launching point to the rest of his career.
        "Sir, It appears that we have entered the system undetected. There is no sign of Draconian alert."
        Lovak watched the view screen showing the space around them. In the distance a single star shone brighter than the others, "Very good Lieutenant."
        He did not want to be leading this tactical group. Infact, he suspected that may be why it was assigned to him. His opinions were not popular with the new military council; if he failed, they could easily dispose of him, and if he succeeded, they could promote him into retirement with commendations.
        Two more ships suddenly appeared outside, bearing the same shield and eagle markings as the Rosvar. Lovak had no doubt why the two destroyers were sent along on this mission. An assault ship with the capabilities of the Rosvar certainly did not need an escort when no opposition was expected. The council no longer trusted his motives were in line with the "peoples interest".
        Lieutenant Rolm approached him, the console lights casting his visage in red and blue contrast, waited a moment and then cleared his throat to remind the Captain of his presence.
        "Sir."
        Lovak nodded. "Well now." Then waited. Lieutenant Rolm bothered him in small ways. Perhaps it was the eyes, with a pinkish hue to the pupil which cropped up rarely in the Elebhar; or his small pinched mouth that tended to smirk as if sharing a joke with himself when he thought nobody was looking.
        Lovak scanned the bridge, intentionally delaying, while carefully noting the crew at their stations.
        Lieutenant Rolm thrust forth a datapad similar to the one Lovak left behind in his office. He held it with the Tanthian shield and eagle emblazoned outwards, as if a holy symbol which he could use to cast back Lovak's uncertainty. "Captain, our orders are quite clear, and our window is closing. We must arm and launch the drone."
        Lovak tried to ignore his First Mate, "Yes, our ... orders." He crossed the bridge to the tactical console and considered it. As Rolm arrived at his side, Lovak stiffly thrust his palm upon a panel and waited for the ship to verify his identity. His face appeared on the display, along with a brief dossier and a summary of his current biological state. The computer verbally repeated the information, "Identification of Commander Lovak, Captain of the TSS Rosvar. Biological conditions show a greater than usual level of neuropeptides, but they are within an acceptable range. Please state tactical command."
        Lovak wanted to abort the mission. He would like to return home and pretend this was not happening. But after a moment he said, "Activate drone Bravo Zeta Novenine Unaone."
        In its gender neutral voice the computer responded, "Drone BZ91 identified, please state authorization code for warhead armament."
        Lovak clasped his hands before anybody noticed they were shaking, "...Authorization code Echo Alpha Oktoeight Tango." As the words left his mouth a feeling of cold dread washed over him.
        "Authorization code of Captain Lovak accepted for armament of warheads on drone BZ91. Protocol mandates second authorization."
        The Lieutenant stepped forward and placed his palm upon the panel and repeated the procedure, with his own authorization codes. It was all Lovak could do to maintain composure. He lurched into the Captain's chair and stared at the distant star, faintly glimmering through the view screen. He could not make out its habitable planet from this distance, but the Rosvar's computer compensated by showing a magnified view, along with all of the pre-designated strike points. What the computer was not able to do was show where each of the 2 billion people would be when the warheads detonated.
        A moment later Lieutenant Rolm appeared at his side, "The drone is ready for launch, sir... at your command."
        Lovak simply nodded, waving his hand.
        Across the bridge, the tactical officer hesitated, wiping sweat from his eyes, "I am sorry sir, but I need a verbal command to launch the drone."
        Lovak took a deep breath and croaked, "Launch the drone, may my soul be saved."
        A moment later a flare of plasma engines appeared outside as the drone accelerated away from the Rosvar. Lovak sagged visibly in his chair as the tactical officer announced, "Drone reporting full system capability, multiple targets are locked and recognized, accelerating... 500 meters... 1 click... engaging skip fold drive and cloaking measures... the drone has disappeared from our scanners and appears to be on the proper course."
        Lieutenant Rolm smiled a thin tight line, "Another successful mission."
        Captain Lovak ignored him and turned to the helmsman, "Notify the Loar and Salaben captains of mission status, and prepare to engage cloaking measures--we have a few days to wait for this war to begin... Leutenant, the bridge is yours."
        He waited a moment more, then silently stood and retreated to his chambers, leaving the smirking Lieutenant Rolm to take the Captains chair.



Chapter 1
        
        Leon snatched his jacket as he dashed out the door. Behind him, his father's booted strides followed menacingly, thumping in a rhythm that crawled up Leon's back as he fled. Even in anticipation of another blow he didn't dare stop to look back. Adrenaline and rage pumped through his system. He grabbed the corner of the lift with his free hand and swung around in one motion, ending with a solid punch on the call button.
        Down the hall, his father leaned sickly against the doorway of their flat, breathing slowly as he pinned Leon with a marble gaze. He was only half dressed, sporting a sweat and ale stained shirt, torn slacks and his heavy steel toed work-boots which hadn't been on the job since he was dismissed several hears ago. He slowly sucked in some air and drawled in a gravelly ale-soaked voice, "Bo-ay, you come back 'ere naw."
        Leon nearly did.
        Years of obeying his father were hard to ignore.
        But his resolve hardened again, driven by the recent pain and the knowledge of the shiner his eye would soon become. As the lift chimed its arrival, he gave a slight shake to his head, "I don't think so."
        The door slowly rolled open on well worn tracks and Leon stepped inside, shouldering his backpack.
        His father watched the door close without comment.
        Inside the lift, Leon dropped the pack on the floor and shrugged into his jacket. The leather was a little worse for wear, but it was the only thing he had ever purchased with his own money, and he was not leaving it behind.
        Stooping he pulled open the pack's zipper and sifted through the few things he managed to grab on his way out the door. After a moment he extracted a pair of sunglasses. Briefly touching his eye to check its tenderness, he slid them on. This was becoming so common it was almost routine.
        But no more.
        Before re-zipping the pack he reached in and grabbed the handle of his father's pistol, an old CMX Viper from before he was dismissed from the law enforcement unit. His father claimed the whole deal was a setup, that they wanted him out of there for years, that it was big government working against the little guy. The internal affairs office claimed he was on the cut. Either way, he was out, and things went downhill from there.
        Just holding the handle was reassuring, he felt a thrill of excitement and strength at the same time. He knew he was not going back this time, but it was a dangerous world and this made him feel a little safer.
        The doors to the lift opened and he quickly zipped the pack closed. The main lobby of the building wasn't staffed, but there were always people around. Stepping out, he headed to the street exit, trying not to look directly at anybody. Approaching the door it slid open, but a little too early. Looking up he faced old Mrs Laethum. She lived a floor down from his family, and seemed to have outlived all of her children. Her wizened Corraig face crackled into a smile upon seeing him, and she hobbled inside the lobby, making good use of her cane.
        "Hello Leon," she said quietly. Noticing his sunglasses she grimaced, "Your father at it again?"
        Leon nodded.
        "I hope your mother is all right, you know he treats her worse than you." She shook her head and tsked, "At least he doesn't seem to bother your sister, the little doll..."
        Leon looked at his feet and mumbled, "uhh, yeah... I've gotta go... uhh, errand."
        "Well don't let me get in your way..." As Leon passed her, she noticed the stuffed pack over his shoulder and her smiled dropped. Before the door slid closed she called after him, "You know he will just take it out on your mother if you leave!"
        He stood on the street, rage, frustration and shame boiling through is veins. It just wasn't right, why did it have to be this way? After a moment he turned to the right and briskly strode away, his fists clenched.
        Bugger it all, he thought, life really just sucks when you get down to it.
        The sounds of the street were washed out as his blood raced, fury and shame welled up and crashed forth. He blindly stomped down the street, ignoring all those around him. His pace quickened as his vision blurred. He wanted to run, but people would notice that, and think something was up, think maybe he was stealing something. The occasional bumped person yelled after him, cars honked as he stumbled in front of them while crossing the intersection, and he kept on going.
        It became harder to see, his vision swam as his jaw clenched, holding back tears that he was too old to have. He ran up the stairs to the MagTrans, skipping every other step. Fumbling in his pocket he brought out a token which went into the slot; a neutered computer thanked him and the bar dropped. Quickly glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, he tossed his backpack in the air, over the security sensors, while walking onto the platform.
        He ran to the end of the train, a nearly empty car, and leapt in, just as the doors shut. As the train briskly and quietly accelerated south on a cushion of air, Leon gazed out the window. Inside the car everything was illuminated with cheap harsh lights. The world outside rushed by through the green tint from the windows. Periodically something would catch his eye. Several friends laughing as they entered a sky cab. Two parents walking along the street, a father tickling the child he was holding. At a street side deli, two old men sat watching the setting sun. Leon closed his eyes and hunched over, not caring where the train went.
        
        * * * * *
        
        Something poked him in his ribs.
        "Kid, you have to get off."
        Leon snapped upright, he must have drifted off. His left arm had fallen asleep and hung limply from his awkward position. A MagTrans security officer was by his seat, poking him with a stick.
        The officer was poorly shaven and had purble bags under his narrow eyes, but didn't seem to have much malice to his actions, "Train's headed in, everybod's off now. You too, neh? No trouble? You can get the next train, should be in station in a few minutes."
        Leon nodded, mumbled non-committally while setting his pack upright. His arm tingled as the blood returned. Pulling the pack onto his shoulder, he stepped off the train and onto the platform. Hot stale air hung heavy with a metallic wet scent. The platform wasn't too crowded, most people seemed to be waiting for the next train.
        Leon decided he'd had enough of the MagTrans, and left the platform. Stopping on the edge of a puddle he scanned the street outside. He had come quite a ways. The city glowed to the north, and silhouettes of factories loomed nearby. He vaguely recalled his father talking about a friend who worked in the matrine refineries outside of town, this must be where he ended up.
        Traffic was all headed onto the highway, mostly surface vehicles from the factory workers heading home. If they could afford floaters, it wouldn't be from working in the factory. A fuel station was on the corner, and across the street was a pub. His stomach growled, deciding his location.
        As the traffic slowed, he wove his way across the street and stepped into the pub. Stale smoke and cheap music his father would like pounded through the room. Most of the patrons appeared to be grizzled workers from the factory. He found an empty table for two on the wall by a croocher table. Upon sitting down a holo menu appeared, but was slightly phase shifted and completely unreadable.
        Leon was about to look for another table when a stout Beag Carde woman wearing an apron stepped forward and pounded on the table with a meaty fist, causing the menu to straighten out, "Damn emitters. Fenk was supposed to fix them weeks ago, keep getting gummed up by the grease."
        She leaned her short frame on the table, which was about elbow height for her, "No spirits for you guy, I don't even have to ID you to know you can't have them."
        Taking a breath, Leon was about to explain that he was just looking for something cheap to eat, but she interrupted him. Even when she posed a question she'd just keep on talking.
        "Food's ok, depends upon what you get, I like the Gritzad, but it's definitely an acquired taste. You look like a city boy. Headed home? Waiting for family? You'll probably like the burg sandwich, can't mess that'n up no? Well, punch it in and I'll bring you one, menu should work well enough until then."
        After she was done speaking, she turned and immediately jabbed a croocher player in the ribs to get him to move out of her way. Her voice was constant as she moved towards the kitchen, "Scoot it, Jim... isn't your wife waiting for you somewhere? You've lost too much as it is... Yes, I'll bring you a refill..."
        Leon couldn't avoid a slight grin, her chatter was disarming, and she seemed friendly enough.
        He decided on the burg sandwich and selected it from the menu. She brought the sandwich by a few quins later, dropping the plate on the table and placing a drink next to it, "6 juels Kiddo, cash or E.X.?"
        He pulled out some change and while handing it over, tried to casually ask, "Do you need help? ... Like, in the kitchen ... or something?"
        She held his money and paused for a moment, her charcoal eyes softened as she looked at him seemingly for the first time, stopping on the sunglasses he still wore. Sighing, she glanced at the cash, "I don't think so, but hey, it doesn't hurt to ask right? You may want to stop by in the day, Fenk would be the one to ask for."
        Turning to leave she paused again, turned and dropped most of his money back on the table, "I think you over paid, better count things a little better next time... Ok?"
        Leon left the money sitting on the table and ate his sandwich. Periodically he glanced at the change and his anger slowly crystallized. He didn't need people to help him, he'd find a way to survive.
        He was independent.
        After finishing, he left the pub and the money on the table. Around the corner he turned into a side alley. Some trash and boxes were piled in a dry area. He walked the full length of the alley to assure nobody else was around, and made a place to sleep under the boxes. But first, he took some time to hide his pack in a fold of the stack of boxes, somewhere nobody would think to look.
        
Chapter 2
        
        An Elebhar gentleman stepped out from the elevator, scanning the grungy hallway and taking note of each door. He had common features for an Elebhar, a slim pointed jawline, thin nose and the notable ears that slowly curved outwards to a point. His only unusual feature was well tailored attire, decidedly out of place for the environment. He wore a gentleman's cloak over a business suit, and a fedora hat, which was likely to protect him from the capricious weather of the city.
        He hoped this would be the last time he had to sift through the detritus of the Mahrgrave society. Carefully walking around a bag of trash, the man checked his timepiece, and stepped up to a door. Using his cane he pressed the call button. From inside the room an undecipherable yell could be heard, followed by the tread of somebody slowly walking towards the door. After a moment it opened on low-tech hinges.
        Leon's father appeared, considered the Elebhar through glazed eyes for a moment then grunted, "Who th' Ell are you?"
        "Ahh, yes, lets forgo pleasantries shall we? I apologize for the early hour; I believe you would be Mr. Gadagan, yes? Your .. son? By the name of Leon, he lives here, I believe."
        An oily bead of sweat carefully worked its way down Leon's father's brow. He looked the gentleman up and down again, "What th'Ell did 'e do thus time? No blazing son'o mine. Good fur noth'ng bastard, what 'e is!"
        The gentleman stifled any appearance of alarm, and checked his timepiece again, "He is not here?" He looked past Mr. Gadagan into the apartment, catching a glimpse of a woman and a child.
        "Blazing waste of-"
        The gentleman cut him off, "And you are not his true father, I take it? But he is Leon?"
        Mr. Gadagan paused for a moment, considering. "Who are yeh?"
        Glancing down the hall, the gentleman paused, then reached into his cloak and retrieved a card, handing it over, "I am .. Brother Amal, of the church of Dagdanicus... Something has happened, perhaps you should come with me."
        The woman pressed up behind Mr. Gadagan, trying to supress panic and fear, "Is Leon hurt? Is he Ok?"
        Brother Amal checked his timepiece again, and looked up, this time analyzing the child, a young Mahrgrave girl "There is not much time, please, come with me..."
        Mr. Gadagan fingered the card, his ale-soaked mind numbly grasping at the situation.
        Brother Amal stepped aside, gesturing to the elevator, "I have a car waiting... which can also return you later. Everything is fine, don't worry." His insistence managed to convince the two, and a short time later they had donned street clothes and were ready to leave. After exiting the apartment Mr. Gadagan stopped next to Brother Amal, "Yew right about'n thet, we'n don't have to pay'n come back, right?"
        He nodded, "most certainly."
        Outside he ushered the three through the rain into a small float car, taking care to shake out his cloak and setting his hat on the seat next to him. After punching in directions, the car lifted from its rest and merged into traffic, rain quietly rolling down the windows. Brother Amal turned to the three. Trying to make pleasant conversation he looked at the girl who had wide eyes taking in all of her surroundings, "and who might this be?"
        Leon's mother responded, "Acelyn, she's twelve soon."
        His father interjected, slurring, "Whuru're we go'in?"
        Brother Amal ignored Mr. Gadagan, "what a beautiful child, she is yours I take it?"
        She nodded, was about to respond when her husband cut her off, "And mine, not like that'n whelp boay I put up all these years. He be where'n we be headed? He's got {note:fix dialect} another thing coming, let me tell you. Did he steal something?"
        Brother Amal shook his head briefly, "Nothing like that, I assure you."
        The car moved to the side, allowing a police car to speed by, sirens wailing. Brother Amal watched as it receded, then responded, "Ahh, we mustn't forget to buckle up ."
        Leaning forward he grabbed the harness for Leon's mother and pulled it down. But somehow her hair had gotten tangled, and as he snapped the belt in place it tugged, "I am so sorry," he profusely apologized, "very sorry." He gestured to Acelyn, "Perhaps she can buckle herself up," and sat back in his own seat, absently attaching his own harness while covertly rolling a tuft of her hair into his palm.
        For the next few minutes Leon's father periodically asked more questions, which Brother Amal ignored or avoided. Fending off the last attempt Amal responded, "Have no worry, I will explain everything as soon as I can, after we arrive. It is best, however, if we wait." Taking notice of something out the window, he pointed, "Ahh, look Acelyn, a freighter is preparing for lift-off from the spaceport. That is a very big ship, isn't it?"
        Everybody watched out the window as the booster engines engaged on the loaded craft, emitting an earth trembling thrum which made polite discussion impossible. Only Acelyn noticed as Amal leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, mumbling something while his fingers worked a piece of hair that quietly turned to a small puff of smoke. He spent a moment more with his eyes closed then turned and pulled up a map of the city on the car's console, which he reviewed for a moment and assigned new coordinates. The thrumming subsided as the freighter slowly lumbered upwards.
        
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