Author: The 483 PM
When The Harvest arrives, Tarraks top squad of Vanguard pilots goes to the systems defense.Rated: Fiction T - English - Sci-Fi/Friendship - Words: 1,255 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 08-23-12 - id: 8457336
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Vandread – The Guardians
Disclaimer: I don't own Vandread.
#1: The Guardians
"Alert! Alert! All hands to Battle Stations! This is a Tier 1 alert! All forces are moved to active duty immediately. Vanguard pilots prep for combat." The alert, accompanied by red lights, continued flashed throughout the Tarrakian Carrier Discipline.
In his bunk, the man in bunk number G-4 sat up and smaked his head on the bunk above, as he did every time an alarm or alert or drill or general call woke him. Above him, in the bunk marked G-2 swore.
"Damn it, Ven, why? Just… Why?" Before the below man could answer, the Captain, G-10, walked up the aisle, shouting at the occupants.
"Alright, G Squad, We are up. Get you kit together and get to the hanger. We drop in 5." They did not question the Captain, but filed out in ordered ranks, 1&3, 2&4, ect. The ship was on High alert, so most of the ship was out in the corridors, moving to stations, stowing loose crap, and buckling down anything that could cause problems in combat. But G-squad had no problems getting through, as when any of the crew saw the patch on the shoulders of their jumpsuits, blue shield with a purple cog, they got right the hell out of the way. Being in Guardian squad, the top special services unit in the Tarrak armed forces, defiantly had it perks.
Guardian was made up of volunteers, only the best and brightest of men were chosen and allowed. The members we all top scorers in their chosen professions, be it Engineering, medicine, leadership, food prep/science, or any other profession. When they joined, they shed their name and adopted a moniker which they would use until they resigned, or were killed in service to the elders. They were closer than family, and enjoyed being surrounded buy only those where were a smart and talented as themselves. Even their chain of command was structured to suit them. G-1 through G-9 answered to no one other than G-10, reguardless of rank. G-10 got his orders and suggestions for his unit straight from a top member in Grandpa's cabinet. G-10 kept order and disciple though his unit, and held total authority over it, and because he still had someone over his head, he never got over zealous with his power and still managed to be one of the grunts with his men.
To those unfamiliar with the Guardians, it might seem as if the unit was spoiled. But truth was, they were the top people in the Armed Forces for a reason. In its short time since inception, the ten man squadron had raked in more commendations than any two Battalions combined. Individual members had, even after refusing to accept some medals or awards that they felt they had not earned, had more marks to their credit then entire divisions. They got their special treatment because they had earned it. One example of there service could be seen after the female pirates captured the old section of the Colonization ship Ikazuchi almost a year prior. Once the section and head ship of the pirates was destroyed, the retreating remained had been followed to closely, and triggered a response from the Majale Military. Ten Vanguards, piloted by Guardians, pulled the three ships from Tarrak out of the contested area while holding off the superior numbers of the Females with minor losses to the men's ship, and only one casualty to the squad, losing G-8 in the process. Not one member of the Squad accepted a medal or Commendation, except G-8, who was given everything due to a hero, and a posthumous promotion.
G-4, or Vendetta as he was know within the Squad was moving quickly behind G-3, Mantis, as they marched down the crowded corridor toward the hanger. Just from the alert, he gathered enough of the situation to know a good deal of what was going on. Tier 1 threat meant that it was an unknown enemy of unknown strength in unknown numbers. But he wasn't worried, he knew that when Guardians dropped, nothing could defeat them.
Finaly they arrived at the flight deck, filed in, and moved quickly t their own personal off shoot where they could don their space armor. Vendetta moved to his locker, and popped it open. Being the best unit in the fleet meant they had the best gear, not because it was supplied to them, but because they made it. The Guardians were the only outfit in the Navy with fully customized kit. Vendetta especially, was a technical genius, one of the engineers alive, but not in the realm of theory, like a majority of his peers in that field. He could not think of a problem, and then solve it. He had to be confronted with a problem, and then invent a solution to it.
For instance, each Vanguard pilot wore a full pressure suit while at the helm in cause of a breech during combat, or if forced to go e.v.a. The biggest problem is space is how to get rid of excess heat, and since a personal air-conditioning unit was to bulky and not power efficient, it was not included in base P. Suits. In three weeks of screwing with whatever he could get his hands on, he had come up with a skintight bodysuit that cooled the user while being powered by the body heat generated from the person. Now everyone in the unit used them.
After the underlay was on, then came the foam flight suit, then the pressure suits skin and O2 tanks. Last, he pulled his personal firearm, made by another of their former teammates, and clipped it to a magnetic patch on the right thigh, along with a med pack on the opposite thigh. 9 lockers closed with a sharp snap, and they continued into the flight deck where G-10, Strobe, was waiting, arms folded behind his back. The 9 Guardians fanned out slightly, in their numbered orders, and waited for the brief. Strobe looked them over; identical except for size and faces, and felt a kind of pride civilians cannot know.
"Ok, gentlemen." He started, and clicked a button on a display board bolted to the wall. It fizzled to life, showing a grainy radar view of one large object, then a gap, then several more matching objects following it. Static rippled freely across the image.
"This is what we know. Several unidentified vessels of Dreadnaught size are currently on route in system through the magnetic storm that separates us from the less civilized reaches of our sector. We have little info beyond the fact that they a mechanized force that is completely robotic. As far as we are aware, each is possessed of its own intelligence, so if engaged, taking out the larger ones will not interrupt the processes of the smaller ones.
"But our job will not be to engage the enemy directly. That is being left to the…women." His voice did not change in level at the word, but each one knew the venom behind it. "We are being deployed as a screen for a stationary weapons platform, protecting it from anything that gets to close." On screen, what looked simply like a big gun, and in fact was just a big gun, floated in the sky. "Deploy."
All 10 men filled toward the Hanger where their Vanguards were located. Protection runs were easy, and they would have no problems, they were sure.