Chereads / Clutch / Chapter 8 - The Worst Kind of Vanguard

Chapter 8 - The Worst Kind of Vanguard

A cool breeze swept through a tranquil park, only about as big as a football field, surrounded by uniform 3D printed housing. The sun was setting, or an image of it, fading slowly into the caramel substance that leaked off the edge of the island. At one corner of the park sat Ira's and Silccer's Tarksuns. Silccer had left it in a kneeling stance as if it stood before a king. Ira's mech laid on its back, half crushing a vehicle she'd leant it up against. Only one of the houses was lit up on the inside.

Silccer sat at a table in the middle of a dull kitchen combined into a dining room. 3D-printed housing tended towards the mediocre, and it was clear the previous inhabitants held no care for making the place homely. In front of him, holding dominion over the entire table, was a pulled-apart communications device. Dried red kitchen towels littered the edge of the table, having been used to clean up the leakage from the softer centre of the contraption. It was a mostly inorganic-based piece of technology, but at its centre, nested by a fleshy sack of organic matter, was the tip of a yellowed bone.

Silccer, gloved and ready, grabbed a pair of heavy-duty tweezers. He steadied his hand by leaning it on the table and slowly reached for the bone. As he inched closer, he clasped the protrusion and delicately slid it out of its near perfectly formed slot. Some more liquid spurted out, causing him to wince back. He dropped the bone onto the table in a much more casual manner. He got rid of the gloves, choosing to get more precise with just his bare hands. With a flick, a pair of goggles flipped down from his hair and allowed him to take a much closer look. They zoomed in almost automatically, allowing him to see the surface. Etched onto it were tiny words written in perfectly tidy paragraphs. He squinted to try and get a better look.

"Fuck's that?"

Silccer jumped back. "AH!" Banging his legs off the bottom of the table.

A wet-haired Ira stood leaning over a chair on the other side of the table. She'd gotten herself a clean top but had opted to keep the same boiler suit. "There's no one else here man, cmon..."

"I didn't hear the shower turn off." He calmed down quickly.

"So, what is it?" She stood up and flicked more lights on before making her way to the fridge.

"It looks like the Breaker for paracausal comms is ruined. That ritual Breaker probably scrambled it somehow." Silccer scratched the back of his head. "I don't have the tools to fix it."

"Then we find them manually. Not like they aren't going to stick out with all other people gone." She grabbed a white package and closed the fridge.

"What did you mean back there? When you said you haven't committed anywhere near as many crimes as the Vanguard?" He took off his goggles, haphazardly shoving the bone back into the comms device.

Ira sat down at the table, sweeping some of the metal pieces in her way aside, creating room for the white package. She pulled a strip from its side, causing it to crackle and pop. After a moment, she tore it open to reveal a heated-up dinner.

Silccer frowned at her lack of response.

"How many Tarx you killed?"

He stuttered. "None yet."

"HA!" Ira spat some of her food out. "The worst kind of Vanguard"

"What?" Silccer was getting more agitated.

"What's the excuse then?"

He straightened his posture, "I'm a... Recruit. Kind of. The Homemaker was about to make a jump into my first battle."

"Hmmm." Ira started eating, managing to squeeze a few words out in between bites. "Actually- Might make you-... The best type of Vanguard." She grabbed a drink to flush it all down. "Means you're one of those 'for flory' suckers they show on adverts."

"What IS your problem with us?" Silccer raised his voice.

Ira smirked, "I can tell from your eyes. And your dainty fingers." She pointed her fork towards him, "you've never seen outside the Frontier, have you?"

"And?" He held his stare at Ira.

She looked up for a moment, paused, and continued to eat.

"The Vanguard fight to free humanity." He stood up in an attempt to grab her attention. "Which is a lot more than what you've shown of yourself so far."

Ira pursed her lips.

"I can tell from your face and that hunk of scrap outside that you're not someone the law would hold in high regard. The Frontier pushes outward with the Homemaker so that we can supply the frontlines with the best of the best, lawful citizens." He stood tall. "I've worked hard to get to where I am, and there are many that dropped out along the where I didn't."

"Good to know. Bet it was real hard to learn in some of the safest cities in all of human space."

Silccer winced ever so slightly.

"State-funded education, subsidised access to food, affordable healthcare. I can't imagine a more cut-throat environment to be moulded by." Ira gave him a moment to digest what she was saying. "Then again, I don't think I'd know anything about what it's like to live in the Frontier. Not very lawful after all."

Silccer held his nerve; he wasn't really ready for this type of confrontation. Before he could shed a tear, he paced outside the house. The cool air of the early nighttime washed through his hair. A few deep breaths later, he gathered himself enough to approach his Tarksun. Leaning on it, he reached into his hardsuit's inner pocket to get a pocket knife. It was a standard Vanguard issue, but worn. The bottom of the handle had a set of engraved initials: 'L.K'.

He held it in his hands, staring at it as if it was about to tell him something. And when it provided no answers, he slipped it back into his hardsuit. It was incredibly quiet outside, not a bird was singing, not an insect screeching. It was likely that all life had been already swallowed by the Ritual Breaker.

Ira finished her meal, tossing it to the ground before heading over to the fridge for something else. She scanned through the various brightly coloured packages on the shelves. She scoffed at most of them, leaving only a relatively bland-looking package as her only option. She popped it open and started to devour the slimy, chocolaty contents. She once again tossed it to the ground once she was done.

Silccer watched the front door to the house open, with Ira exiting shortly after.

"I'm taking a nap; when I wake up, we move."

"How long for?" He started to set a timer on his hardsuit's watch.

She stretched as she made her way towards her Tarksun. "About an hour or two."

"Sounds good." He whispered through gritted teeth.