Vanguard Remake Word Update

2k words for Vanguard! 'Nuff said.

***

The shuttle’s engines flared with cones of blue fire as it picked up in speed, coasting through the black nothingness with the barest hint of turbulence. There was nothing but velvet stars in the void surrounding the shuttle, and without the veil of an atmosphere to dilute their brightness, they shone like a million beacons in every cardinal direction.

Designed to work both in and out of atmospheric conditions, the shuttle’s hull was flanked on two sides by stubby wings, currently folded flush against its flanks. The only details on the hull were the cockpit’s glass canopy, sitting high above its rounded nose, and the Alliance symbol emblazoned on one side of the cockpit.

Not the only craft along for the ride, the shuttle was joined by two other ships. Matching speed over and behind the shuttle was a frigate-class vessel, the blocky ship stretching for over one hundred meters from nose to tail. Bristling with communication equipment and missile launch tubes, the assault frigate was equipped for both support and combat roles, the quad-cannons mounted along the belly swiveling to track potential targets, though the only things they had shot at so far had been errant meteors straying to close to their flight path. The dark, reflective colour of its hull was broken up in places by blue stripes, and it too was decorated with the Alliance symbol.

The second ship was a stark opposite to the frigate. At a hundred and fifty meters, it was far larger than the shuttle or the frigate, but most of its surface area was comprised of cargo containers, mated to a very thin and narrow-shaped hull with flared ends, the ship not unlike a giant arrow. Skeletal crane arms were curdled against the rigging, connected to the hull via hardpoints, made accessible by walkways leading out from the pressurized cabins on either end of the ship.

Unlike the two Alliance ships, the cargo liner flew no colours or symbols. As one of the more popular trade routes, it wasn’t uncommon to see ships from the colony planets out here. Seeing as all three ships shared the same destination, the Alliance had happily accepted the trader’s request for an escort. Not because they were afraid of pirate ships – that was more of an Inner Reaches problem – but because one could never be too careful in times of war.

Fortunately ever since the cargo ship had joined them a month and a half ago – almost as long as the Alliance had been travelling – they had encountered no Confederate ships. Even though military grade ships were the fastest and most efficient ships of the line, it still took extreme lengths of time to travel from planet to planet. There were rumours that some manner of teleportation technology was being worked on by Earth scientists, but for now, crews had little to do but so suck it up and do it the hard way.

The two dozen soldiers mingling in the shuttle’s crew compartment had been trained to deal with long periods of time cooped up in a tight space, and they were itching to get out and stretch their legs. They’d been allowed to transfer to the frigate a couple times through the journey, but the metal innards of the warship weren’t much of an improvement.

So when the pilot’s announced crackled through the intercom, most of them leapt to their feet in excitement, clicking their magnetic boots on so they didn’t float in the air the moment they left their crash couches.

“Take a look out the port windows, boys,” the pilot said. “Should be able to see the Hub any second now. Welcome to your new home.”

The minutes dragged on until the excited troops began to pick out something in the void. The shuttle’s course was taking them towards a nebula, the cosmic dust and gas coloured in vibrant shades of pink and purple, rich streams of energy weaving through the clouds like veins. The Folium Nebula surrounded one side of the star system, names so because when viewed from a certain angle, the clouds resembled a giant leaf.

Contrasting against these rich colours was a shape, the shine of white metal unmistakable. It grew larger as the shuttle closed in, the troopers able to pick out its shape. It was a torus, the band of shining metal surrounding a small habitat that sat in the ring’s epicenter, giving the transfixed troopers the impression they were gazing on a giant archery target.

The torus was gently spinning in a clockwise direction, generating centrifugal force that would generate one standard gravity unit, a method humanity commonly used to make habitats and space stations more like their atmospheric counterparts, though calling the torus such sterile names would be doing it injustice.

As they drew close enough to see the inner band, the troopers were greeted by the sight of a cityscape. Stretching forever along the inside of the habitat were forests of buildings and monuments, the amber lights projecting from the hundreds of lamps not too dissimilar from the stars shining in the backdrop of space. Pockets of greenery helped to break up the spartan metals, one or two giant parks taking up significant portions of the habitat’s living area.

The inner band was built like a metropolis, perhaps taking inspiration from the great cities of Earth, but the illusion was easy to break when viewed from the outside. The inner band was boxed in on both sides by the giant walls of the hull, the plating detailed with armoured tiles and airlock doors. No one envied the people responsible for going out there to do maintenance.

Communication dishes and antennae bristled from the hull’s outer face, their number only matched by the amount of defence guns poking out from the hardpoints. Those weren’t its only means of protection, however. Floating around the station were four platforms, two below and two beside. They were built like giant plates, with a railgun mount on its top and bottom, the hull thin enough that the guns had as much field of fire as was possible.

Cruising around these gun platforms were fleets of Alliance vessels, from frigates to even a few battleships, their

thousand-meter-long hulls camouflaged against the canvas of space. Using them as a frame of reference, one could gauge the true size of the Hub, and even if size of the battleships were lined up, they would only just be able to match the Hub’s diameter.  

The troopers in the compartment were transfixed by the sight, faces glued to the shuttle portholes as they struggled for room. All save for one of their number, who was in his seat at the rear of the compartment, snoozing with his arms folded over his Alliance uniform.

Their accompanying frigate and cargo liner broke off, navigating to their own destinations now that they had arrived in the system. The shuttle sailed on for a few minutes longer, passing by one of those weapon platforms, the gun on the lower face tracking them as they passed.

The pilot pulled them up along the torus, matching speed with the Hub’s spin. The thick hull of the station ballooned until it blocked the onlooking soldier’s view entirely, bloated in size thanks to all the life support systems needed to keep the megastructure operational. The surface was broken up in places by hangar bay doors, some large enough for multiple frigates to dock.

“We’ll be transferring to the station’s gravity in a minute,” the pilot advised. “Back in your seats, boys, you’ll have plenty of time to gander when you’re outta here.”

There were smaller pressure doors in place for shuttles such as theirs, the pilot pulling them closer to one such entrance, the doors opening up like a metal jaw. There were only a few inches margin of error, but this was routine for the pilot, and the shuttle reversed into the recess without incident, the hangar swallowing them up.

The interior of the hangar was sparce, exposed machinery and a few fluorescent strips the only features, but this was only one side of a giant airlock, the hangar closing before the shuttle touched down with a heavy bounce, the landing skids gluing to the deck. Once the airlock was pressurized, a door at the rear of the hanger opened up, the shuttle sliding through as though it was connected via rails.

When the pilot gave them the all clear, the soldiers were already halfway out of their harnesses, eager to feel the touch of gravity after a long absence. Except for the sleeping trooper, of course, who hadn’t stirred even when the shuttle had bounced on its landing gear. The sound of the engines powering down filled the cabin, chased by hydraulic whines as the landing ramp began to open up.

The troopers covered their eyes as white light shone through the crack, a slight breeze causing the loose straps of their packs to flicker. The men at the front of the aisle began to march down the ramp, the rest of the men following suit, their boots clanking against the steel.

The last two soldiers at the back cleared off, the troop compartment going quiet, the pilot taking no small measure of satisfaction in the peace. Stretching his shoulders, he removed his flight helmet, eager to get out and stretch his legs himself.

As he ducked through the port separating the cockpit from the bay, his head flicked to the side, and he noted he wasn’t as alone as he thought. The sleeping soldier was still crowding his ship, even his harness was still strapped over his chest.

“There’s always one…” he muttered, moving over and kicking the man in the leg. “Hey! Up and at them, sleeping beauty!”

The soldier chortled, but sat in stubborn sleep. Sighing, the pilot read off the name on his uniform.

“Private… Cadell?”

With a snort, the private shook his head, straining against his harness as he blinked his eyes open. Muttering something to himself, he opened his mouth in a yawn, regarding the pilot innocently.

“Oh, hey there, Sir,” he greeted, his drawl reminding the pilot of how people ion the America’s spoke. “We there yet?”

“The rest of the fresh meat’s already out in the hanger. Get your ass moving, Private, being late for rolecall looks very bad for your report and mine.”

That seemed to get the Private’s attention, Cadell shooting so fast out of his seat he forgot that he was strapped down, the harness pulling him right back into his seat. Cadell grinned sheepishly, then undid the clamps, the pilot shaking his head as he got to his feet on the second attempt.

Cadell reached for the compartment next to his seat, hauling out his pack, heavy with the few essentials he’d been allowed to bring from home. He’d been issued a weapon at boot camp, but for whatever reason neither he or the other recruits had been allowed to bring it with them. Cadell wasn’t complaining, though, the less to lug around the better.

Shouldering his pack, he hurried down the ramp after his companions, his eyes going wide with excitement as he got his first look at the interior of the Hub. The hanger was wider than it was deeper, and everywhere he looked he saw steel and metal. There were walkways snaking along the walls and below the cathedral-like ceiling, leading towards other ships docked in the aisles adjacent to the shuttle. Most were other troop transports like his, but he could see a fighter corvette in the distance, its flat, angular shape standing at over ten meters tall.

The deck was crowded with as many machines as there were people, engineers clad in high visibility vests rushing to and fro, a pair walking past with a thick fuel hose in their hands, Cadell turning his head as they connected it to the shuttle’s fuel tank. The cable was as thick around as an oil barrel, connected to a giant silo further into the cavernous bay.

He peeked around the shuttle, noting that the nose of the craft was aimed at a giant airlock door, as were the other ships on the deck. His spine experienced a shiver when he realised just how close they were to the void of space, and that only one airlock had to malfunction and the whole bay would be vented. That was why he signed up to be a trooper, fighting in atmo was a lot less terrifying than the prospect of being succumbed to vacuum.