ROBOTECH: Back to Basics by Jason Low Robotech (C) Harmony Gold USA, etc etc etc. All rights reserved, no harm is meant to any copyright holder. Characters and situations not in the Robotech series are (C) Jason Low. Author's Notes: Something that's not fully described in the beginning of this story is where the two main characters come from. Jason and Richard are characters based on myself and a good friend of mine. They appear here courtesy of a rift in reality that I used as a plot device in previous stories of mine. The idea is, a phenomenon fractured reality and caused a near-infinite number of alternate realities to be created, each with an alternate version of Jason and Richard (or Jason and another friend, sometimes). I chose to say that they "knew" the Robotech universe because, until they came to it, they knew it as a fiction. But as they spent more time in it, they found themselves acclimatizing more and more, and remembering less and less about the realm, until they found themselves fitting in appropriately. This isn't to say that they lost their memories and forgot where they really came from, but actually they just learned to manage their "origin stories" well. All of this is all-new, though I have used some of these elements in older, unpublished stories. In fact, some of the elements I have used are from one of my very first stories. I'm happy I am able to put them to use finally. Having said all that, enjoy the story! 23 OCTOBER 2011 4:54PM CENTRAL TIME Commander Max Sterling found himself flying over a barren landscape, one he was still having a hard time getting used to. He'd been there when the bolts fell, when Dolza's armada rained death upon the Earth, but still, flying orbits around what used to be Las Vegas and seeing nothing but debris and devastation... "Skull two, this is Skull six," came a voice over the radio. Max glanced over at the Veritech to his right, rising up to meet him. He keyed the mike and said, "Go ahead, Bobby." "We've been searching for survivors for four months," he said. "I don't mean to be callous, but when're we gonna just admit it and say everyone else bought it?" "When HQ tells us," Max answered. "I know how you feel, but if you were out here, I'm sure you'd want to be found. So keep your life signs scanner on and searching, okay?" "Roger," came the reply. Max scanned his instruments and sighed. He knew Skull 6 was more likely right than not, and anyone who had survived what was now being called the Rain had already been found. Already the Cat's Eye and ELINT planes had done a virtual total blanket of the Earth, and the Veritechs were doing what little they could to help out. "Always wanted to get down here," Bobby commented dryly, dipping a wing towards the ruined cityscape below. "D'ya suppose anyone's checked to see if the money's still there?" "You'd never get away with it," Max said, allowing himself a smile. "Besides, once we're all done, the reclamation crews come through to see what they can salvage." "I'm not talkin' 'bout the whole house," Bobby countered. "Just a couple hund - Hey, wait." "What's that?" Max asked, checking his own displays at the same time. "Got a faint blip at 020 just a second ago. Switching to Guardian and coming around." "Roger," Max said, adjusting his scanners. "I confirm your signal, and I've got your six. Go on in." Max switched to Gerwalk mode as well, hovering five hundred feet above the city streets. He watched Skull 6 disappear into the concrete canyons, and then divided his attention between the radar/scanner displays and the horizon. In particular he was facing a lopsided skyscraper, tilting like the Tower of Pisa. He zoomed in on an unusual section to see an office desk hanging out of a broken window on about the thirtieth floor, suspended in midair only by one leg, caught in the twisted metal window frame. "Two, this is Six," the radio suddenly crackled. Max tore his gaze away from the building and looked at the radar again; Bobby was three blocks to his left. "Go ahead," Max said, drifting ahead and turning his craft counterclockwise. "Got one, but we're gonna need a medevac. Badly burned adult male." "Copy that," Max answered. Before switching to the command channel, he asked, "What's his status?" "Alive, for now," Skull 6 said. "I can see him breathing from here, but I don't wanna touch him. Leave that for the medics." "Good job, Bobby," Max said, and gained some altitude to allow his radio to reach back to base. "Well done." 7 NOVEMBER 2011 12:49PM MOUNTAIN TIME The room slowly resolved itself into a semblance of focus. Black gave way to grey, and grey gave way to dull off-white. A persistent beeping came from overhead and to the right; natural light filtered in from the left. Jason Low tried to sit up and was rewarded with incredible aches through every joint in his body. He grunted in pain, and collapsed back on the bed, noting somewhere in the back of his mind that the beeping had increased in pitch and speed. He tried to focus his eyes on the source of the light, and saw a window and a portion of a lakefront, curving away to the left side of the window. From the looks of things, he was on the fourth or fifth floor. The beeping, as he found out, was from medical equipment, as he'd expected. He craned his neck around to see that his pulse was 110 and his blood pressure 108 over 76. A little on the low side, for him. His eyes roamed the other equipment on the wall until he found what he was looking for: a small black cylinder with a switch on one end and a cable on the other. With a considerable amount of exertion, he reached up, took hold of it, and pressed it twice. Within a couple of moments, the door to the room opened and a young lady in a nurse's uniform came in. "You're awake," she said softly, smiling. "Good." "What happened?" he said, a little surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded. The nurse's smile vanished as she came to his bedside. "What do you recall?" "I was.. on my way home from work," he said, fighting to think back. "A little tired.. it'd been a long night." "That's the last you remember?" she asked. "Yeah," he nodded. "Then waking up here just now." She tried to rest her hand on his shoulder, gently, as if she was afraid her contact would harm him. "I'm afraid I have some bad news. There's been a terrible thing that's happened." He was confused. Had he been in an accident? He could still feel all his arms and legs; or maybe that was that phantom limb syndrome he'd heard about.. (Or did I fall asleep and pile into a school bus or something?) he worried, then realized the nurse was talking again, saying something about an attack, an escalation, something about the Earth being almost destroyed.. "What?" he interrupted her. "Say that again?" "Over seventy percent of the Earth's population was wiped out," she said sadly. "Most who survived were in rural areas away from the major population centers." Jason let this sink in for a second, then asked, "So who launched their missiles first?" "They did," she said after a moment. "Without so much as a warning." "I never woulda thought," Jason said. "Mutually assured destruction and all that." "What?" the nurse said with a quizzical look. "You know.. where they know they shouldn't bomb us because we're gonna bomb them right back. Must've been pretty desperate, or insane. So who was it.. some splinter republic? Someone in the Middle East?" She looked at him with a confused expression again. "What do you mean?" "Who bombed us?" he asked bluntly. "The aliens," she responded with just as much disbelief. Jason paused. "Say that again?" he asked. "The aliens. The Zentraedi," she clarified. "They defolded almost five million warships around Earth and fired on us without warning." Jason lay there in shock for a few moments. "Zentraedi," he said. "Yes," she nodded. "Big tall.." he trailed off, and she nodded again. "What's today's date?" he asked, then added, "Full date." "November 7th," she said. "2011." After a moment, she asked, "Are you having trouble remembering things?" For a fleeting moment, he felt like answering yes, but in the end, he just shook his head. "Just having a difficult time getting my bearings," he said. "I understand," she said sympathetically. "You've been in the hospital for two weeks. You were found by a fighter patrol, critically injured." "I was?" he said. "Where? How?" "They brought you in on a helicopter," she told him. "From the south. I think it was around where Las Vegas used to be. You were badly burned." "From what?" he asked. "I don't remember a fire.." "Sometimes our mind blocks things out," she told him. "It may come back to you, but if it doesn't, it's probably nothing to worry about. You're safe now, though, and once you get some rest, someone will be here to talk to you about your options." She stood up straight again. "Now I've got to make my rounds, okay? But I'll be back later to talk some more." "Okay," Jason nodded, and the nurse left. He lay there in the bed for a while. (The Zentraedi,) he thought to himself. (2011. So that means..) With a great deal of effort, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, then got out of bed and went as far as the cables he was hooked up to would let him. From there, he reached out and brushed the curtain aside... ...to see, in the part of the lake he could now see, the Super Dimensional Fortress, up to its 'waist' in water. The supercarriers at the end of its 'arms' rested on the surface of the lake, temporary roadways constructed from the shore to connect them to the city. "Oh my God," he whispered. Jason sat and weighed his options for a long time. He knew he had somehow been transported into a universe where Robotech had become a reality. He didn't know how that was possible - either his being transported, or the existence of the reality he was now in. It was his birthday. He was 30 this year. Or would have been, if he'd still been in 2002. Instead, by rights, he should have been 39, it being 2011. The nurse had said he'd been burned, and he was found in the area that 'used to be' Las Vegas. Was there any significance to that? His mind drifted to the stories he'd written a decade before, about jumping around various realities and such. Was it real, somehow? (Either that or I'm wrapped around a light pole somewhere around Highway 1 and Stoney Trail, delirious and near death,) he mused. This didn't feel like a hallucination, though. He didn't think he was having a near-death experience, although he had nothing to compare it to. Everything seemed so real, from the ship resting outside his window in the lake, to the Veritechs that took off and landed every few minutes from the carrier deck, to the Zentraedi whose head he just saw go past the lower half of his window... Somehow, he only had 'memories' of what had happened in the world of Robotech up to the point he found himself in. As soon as he realized where he was, he could recall the story of the ship crashing on Macross Island, he could remember the SDF-1's journey to Pluto and back, and Dolza's Rain.. ..but nothing after that. (Maybe that's on purpose,) he decided. Maybe whatever put him here didn't want him to be able to tell anyone what was to come in the future. But why put him here in the first place, then? Ultimately, he ended the round-trip series of questions by dragging himself back to the important task: Fitting in. The nurse or someone else would surely be back soon, and he had to have a reasonable story. He felt fairly certain, despite the unbelievable concepts he'd just had to come to accept as being true, if he tried to convince anyone he'd been thrown across space and time to simply appear on post-Rain Earth for some search and rescue squadron to find, he'd be committed for sure. "Okay," he murmured. "I'm 30. There's no denying that." People had always said he looked younger than his age, so there was no way he would have passed for 39. It meant, however, that instead of saying he was born in 1972, he had to claim his birthdate as being in 1981. That'd complicate things, but he'd just have to make sure to be careful about any reminiscing he did. As for being found in Vegas, the nurse had given him an 'out' for that one. He could just say he didn't remember how he got there. That would be easy, because he truly didn't know. The tricky part was setting up a plausible history prior to that - what had happened on Earth during the SDF's jaunt through the solar system? He couldn't very easily say he was part of the civilian complement of the starship, because they surely had records for that sort of thing - but Earth's records were all gone, for the most part. He could have said he was a doctor and they would have had to take him on his word. He spent the remainder of the afternoon going over his story in his head, making sure there were no holes, and that it all worked out. 9 NOVEMBER 2011 11:21AM Jason stepped out onto the street surface of Macross City. Despite the advice of his doctors, he'd signed out and left the hospital. Not only could no one explain how he'd come to have third degree burns over most of his body, but managed to recover without a single scar, so quickly. The air smelled strange in Macross, he decided. Whether it was the lake, the absolute cleansing of ALL pollutants from the air during the Rain, the byproducts left IN the air because of the Rain, or just something he noticed after being asleep for at least 2 weeks, he couldn't be sure. For all he knew, the odor was from the full size Zentraedi who were roaming around. He started to walk from the hospital, and instead of having any specific destination, he just walked. The city was laid out in a series of concentric circles, with the lake and the SDF in its center. Outwards from the hospital was commercial and light industrial land, and inwards were strip malls and such. The next 'community' over from the hospital's district, counterclockwise, was more commercial and light industrial. He kept on walking through, deciding the exercise would do him good. Next came the Macross Mall, a combination indoor/strip mall that spanned several city blocks. Beyond it was housing - rows upon rows of small, identical dwellings. And beyond them, past tall fencing, was military land, with mecha and trucks roaming to and fro. Turning around, he went past the hospital and continued clockwise, coming across the first of the two main roadways in town, leading to the SDF-1. It was lined with shops and businesses, nearly half of which seemed to directly target military personnel as their clientele. Light industrial and commercial, again, filled the wedge between the first major thoroughfare and the second, where more shops and stores lined the highway. The remaining third of the city around the lake was residential housing. Jason went back to the main street and looked around; on closer inspection, he realized that some of the places he thought were focusing on military sales were actually geared towards people who had been 'rescued' from the wastes. People like him. He ventured into a snack food store and found a very sympathetic lady working the counter. A lot of people 'like him' had come through in the past two months, she said; hungry and without a penny to pay for it. She set him up with a decent meal and pointed him in the direction of a place to stay until he got back on his feet. (So this is what it's like to be homeless,) he thought half an hour later, as he waited in line at the converted shelter. At least he had a full stomach. The sound of jet engines whooshed by overhead, and he turned to watch a pair of Veritechs arc in towards the Prometheus and line up for landing. (There's only one way I'm going to be able to survive here,) he told himself. 25 FEBRUARY 2012 7:44AM Sergeant Jason Low stood in the corridor of the Prometheus, outside a compartment with an officer's name stencilled on the door. Three and a half months of training and practice had culminated in this result. He knew he was ending up in a Veritech squadron - just not which one. The officer he was waiting for was in charge of assigning the new recruits. Jason's class had been fairly small, so he and the other half-dozen or so pilots-to-be were all getting their orders the same day. The four that had already gone were fairly content, having been selected for duty in two numbered squadrons, being detailed to patrol in what they were now calling the Southlands - primarily Brazil and the like. They were known to be hotspots for trouble, specifically dissenting Zentraedi; rumor had it that Khyron had put down somewhere on the continent. "Low," called the officer, and Jason stepped inside and came to attention. "Yes, sir," he said. "Ever flown before?" the man asked in an almost conversational tone. "Commercial or recreational perhaps?" "No, Commander," Jason said. "Well, except as a passenger." The officer chuckled. "You must've soaked up a lot. You should've joined earlier, Sergeant; you've got a knack for this." "Thank you, sir. If I could've, I probably would've." (Just get on with it,) Jason shouted to himself. The officer stood and held out an envelope. Stapled to the envelope's outside were pilot's wings in a little ziplock baggie, and inside the envelope were the long-awaited orders. "Congratulations, Sergeant. Welcome to the friendly skies." "Thank you, sir," Jason said, saluting and then shaking the officer's hand. "Well, open it," the man nodded towards the envelope. Jason obliged, flipping open the flap and pulling out the letter. He scanned it, and blinked. "Problem, Sergeant?" "I'm not sure, sir," Jason said. "I think my eyes are acting up." "No, they're not," the commander smiled. "We need skilled people in the right places, and you fit. Report to Fokker Base tomorrow morning at 0600." "Yes, sir..." Jason trailed off. "Dismissed, Sergeant," the commander said with mild amusement. Jason nodded and walked out of the room, sort of on autopilot, as the second- last pilot was called in. Jason walked down the hall a ways, until he was out of sight of others, and ducked into a doorway to read the letter again. He forced his eyes to focus on the line with the assignment information: SKULL SQUADRON - POSITION 011 26 FEBRUARY 06:25AM FOKKER AIR BASE HANGAR C Jason looked over the aircraft parked before him. He was supposed to be doing a pre-flight prior to taking a shakedown flight, but the amount of high-tech equipment in a Veritech Fighter still boggled him, and he had to look it over from stem to stern. His craft was white with green trim, as he'd chosen - his rank and placement allowed him that privilege. It sat there with its wings folded and tail collapsed in on itself, in storage mode. Cables and hoses connected the plane to the hangar's starting equipment, already turning and ready to give the plane the boost it needed to get going. Finally, he climbed into the cockpit and flipped switches, causing the wings to unfold and the tail to lock into place. Now, in the mirrors on his dash, it looked like an airplane. The only other people in the hangar - the ground crew - watched as he gave the thumbs-up to start his plane. Suddenly there was a thump of power behind and beneath him, and the plane strained against its brakes. The ground crew gave a thumbs-up in return as the chocks and umbilicals were removed, and the chief gave Jason a quick salute, which he returned, and then idled out onto the apron. Idling, however, in a Veritech, was done at around forty-five miles an hour. Jason was the only new member of Skull Squadron; the rest had been veterans right through the war. The pilot leading today's flight, Bobby Thomas in Skull 6, gave a greeting over the in-flight frequency: "Good morning, Sergeant! Glad you could join us." "Ready and waiting, sir," Jason returned. "Let me show you what this baby can do." "Ohh-ho-ho! I like that," Thomas said with a laugh. "Then go ahead and get clearance and let's get up there." Ten minutes later, they were at 14,000 feet, flying wing-on-wing - Thomas leading, of course - doing a wide orbit of the area between Macross City and Fokker Base. The entire cockpit was pressurized, negating the need for a separate oxygen mask, which was a bit of a surprise to Jason. "Eleven, six, ready to take lead?" Thomas said in that nonchalant tone of voice that had become the de rigeur standard for fighter pilots over the past few decades. "Roger that, boss," Jason answered. "All right, on three, I'll break left and you can take it. Three, two, one." Suddenly Thomas drifted slightly left and back, and maneuvered his fighter's nose to within a few feet of Jason's left wingtip. "I'm on," Thomas declared. "I have you," Jason acknowledged, and concentrated on keeping his movements as smooth and stable as possible. Thomas was relying on Jason's plane's positioning to stay as rocksteady as his own. "Let's ease out of this bank," Jason said, and got Bobby's acknowledgement. "On three," Jason prompted. "Three, two, one." The two planes leveled off and flew as straight as an arrow. "Well done, Sergeant," Bobby said. "Mind your altitude and position." Jason glanced at his HUD and saw that they were in a slight descent, and were nearing the edge of the training range. "Got it. Leveling off in three, two, one." After the planes resumed level flight, Bobby called. "Eleven, six. This formation stuff is pretty boring, innit?" "Well, I don't know," Jason answered. "I mean, I gotta learn to walk before I can run, right?" "That's what the past twelve weeks were for," Thomas declared. "What would you do if I suddenly said 'SAMs! Break left!'" "Wh.." Jason said, and then saw a shadow as Skull 6 flashed over his fighter to the right, in a high-G bat-turn. Without another word, Jason slammed the stick low and to the left, nudging the throttle forward three notches to full thrust. The fighter answered by turning and diving faster than a craft of its size should have been able to. Jason scanned his radar and the skies for any surface to air missiles, but found none. It wasn't until he leveled out on a reciprocal course to his original path, and found Skull 6 coming up on his left to join him, that he realized what had happened. "Good, good," Thomas said with a bit of an appraising tone. "A little slow, though." "I'll get better, sir," Jason said. "Bobby," Skull 6 corrected him. "Or Six." "Roger," Jason said. "Jason or Jay then, or Eleven." Bobby laughed. "Good enough." 12 MARCH 09:40AM Jay knocked on the door and was told to enter. He did, and found Captain Rick Hunter and Admiral Henry Gloval there. "Sirs," he said, immediately saluting. A third of a year of training had impressed upon him the chain of command and the need to respect it. "At ease, Sergeant," Gloval said in his accented English. Jason did so and waited for the officers to begin. Gloval picked up a sheaf of papers and looked at them briefly, then spoke. "As we expand the RDF across the wastelands, we need to rearrange our current resources so that they are spread more evenly throughout the territories. For that reason, the Robotech Defense Force is creating a new base in the southern part of the continent, and we need to staff it. Each base will end up with two Veritech Fighters and a contingent of Destroids to start. Captain Hunter has recommended you as one of the two to be assigned to this new base." Jason looked at the two officers in turn. "Thank you, sirs." "We would like you to leave for 0800 tomorrow," Gloval said, neatening the papers and handing them towards Jason. "You'll meet your new wingman when you arrive in New Albuquerque. As you are one of the first to be sent to the base, you'll be helping to set things up for the first day or two." "Understood." "Oh, and one more thing," Gloval said, as if it was an afterthought, even though it'd been obviously planned. "It's not appropriate for a sergeant to be stationed on his own. Some kind of commanding officer is necessary." Jason watched silently as Gloval passed a small box to Hunter, and Hunter in turn stood up and walked to Jason. "Congratulations, Lieutenant," Hunter said, pinning the double bars onto Jason's uniform. "Thank you, sir," Jason said with a smile. 13 MARCH 08:10AM VF-011 took to the skies and pointed itself on a due southerly course. Jason took the first few moments to familiarize himself with the new ship - he'd been issued the J-type just the day before, and it took them all day to paint and customize it. It felt like the fighter was quicker to respond and faster overall, but he knew that wasn't possible - the only differences were in the targeting suite and the fighter's "head" unit. "Not bad," he murmured to himself, after turning to his new heading by way of a snap turn and a barrel roll. Once he got onto his approved flight plan, he changed his secondary radio to a civilian FM station, providing a quiet background distraction while he thought of his new assignment and orders. (A new base and a new command,) he mused. (Someone likes me, or someone hates me. Dunno until I get there.) Command was something he was unused to as well. He'd been in charge of small groups before, but there was always someone to fall back on in case of a crisis. Now, Jason was going to be the one to fall back on. (If this is the first new base to be built, it's going to be busy for a while,) he realized. (Basically, we're going to be it for the whole south half of the continent.) As the plane leveled out, Jay glanced at the envelope containing his orders, and decided to take a peek while things were quiet. He set the plane on autopilot, took out the envelope, and read the letter within. He skipped past the duties and duration part - that much he'd been told by Gloval and Hunter the day before. He was looking for details on his new partner. When he found it, he had to read it twice to make sure he wasn't seeing things. "Oh man," he murmured. He let his helmeted head fall back against the headrest cushion. (This is gonna complicate things.) 09:45PM RDF NEW ALBUQUERQUE "Skull elev - er, I guess that's Grey Leader, to Albuquerque Base," Jay said, mentally wincing. He'd already flubbed his callsign even though he hadn't had it 24 hours. "Grey Leader, you're a clear five, and we have you on radar, sir," came the voice of a controller. "Welcome to your new home." "Thanks, control," Jason said. "Er, control, has my partner arrived yet?" "No, sir, you're the first besides us, period." "Roger, control. The Herc with supplies and my personal effects should be here by morning." "A Herky Bird? Did I hear you right, sir?" Jason lined up his craft for a landing. "They rescued it from a ruined base somewhere in the Americas," he acknowledged. "We'll take what we can get." "They 'rescued' this place too," the controller replied. "But we can save that for when you get down and settled." "Copy that. When I park this beast, I'm gonna see if I can catch forty winks, okay?" "By all means, sir. You want to come up for coffee?" "No offense, but I don't think I'd make it all the way down my boarding ladder. It's been over 13 hours so far today. I'll just pull off and stop where you think is good." "Understood, sir. We'll call for you if we need you. Control out." Jason taxied his plane to an empty section of apron and parked it, then leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. It was the first time all day he'd had more than a blink, and it was a refreshing interlude. Suddenly, there was a clicking noise in his earphones, and he opened his eyes. It was almost midnight. (Geezus,) he told himself. "Go ahead," he said aloud. "Lieutenant, the other Veritech is taxiing towards your location now." "Great," he murmured under his breath, then keyed the mike. "Thanks," he said. "I'm going off air now." "Roger, sir. We'll see you in the morning." Jay shut down the fighter and started to climb out. He took off his helmet and did as much as he could with his "helmet-hair", then looked up as the fighter turned and stopped before him. The canopy opened as the engines spooled down, and a young man climbed out, backing down the boarding ladder. He turned to Jason, his helmet and visor down, but a big grin visible beneath. Jason couldn't help but smile in spite of his feelings. The man in front of him removed his helmet, and all doubts were erased. "Hi, Rich," Jay said. "I knew it had to be you!" Richard Sirois grinned, punching Jay lightly on the shoulder. "Good to see you made it." "Yeah. Well," Jason said, "We've got a lot to talk about." "Do we ever," Richard nodded. "I'd offer to catch up over drinks, but we don't have a bar," Jason excused himself. "Well, when you're ready, I can accommodate for the bar," Richard said, nodding and grinning towards his cockpit. "Just name the place." "Interesting place," Jason observed. "Yeah," Rich said, walking along beside his partner and friend. "Way I hear it, this was a regular ol' town with a civilian airfield, nothing major. So Dolza passed it up. Or missed it, or something. Anyway, the people here survived, of course, and gave the RDF permission to establish a base here, in exchange for supplies and so on." "Sounds like a fair trade. Actually they look to be doing fine on their own, y'know?" Jason nodded towards a building that looked to be a soda bottling plant. Richard chuckled. "Contrary to our own experiences, man can't live on Coca-Cola alone." "That reminds me," Jason said, growing serious. "I have to ask you - " "I don't know," Rich cut him off. "I just woke up one day in a hospital in New York." "Really?" "Yeah. I figured something'd happened since the city looked trashed, but I had no clue it was this." "Tell me about it," Jason nodded, answering with a knowing tone. "Do you.. 'remember' anything beyond now?" "Nope," Richard said. "And to tell you the truth, I think I prefer it that way." Jason just nodded, knowing there was nothing else to say on the matter. "So where do you figure's a good spot to enjoy this drink?" Richard asked. Jason looked around at the people milling about, even so late at night. They seemed to share a sense of joy, albeit mixed with wariness. Jason and Rich had switched into civilian clothes, to blend in as much as anything else, but the appearance of two new faces in town stood out as much as any uniform. "How about over here?" Jason said, nodding to a park nearby with some benches and picnic tables. It was largely deserted except for the occasional couple here and there. Rich nodded, and followed his friend over to a table, sitting down. He uncapped the small plastic bottle and offered it first to Jason. "Thanks," Jay said, taking a pull. He said, "How about to our friends, whereever they may be." "Agreed," Rich nodded, taking the flask back and taking a hit of his own. Jason nodded to a pair of Mercedes sedans gliding past, black with tinted windows almost blending into the night. "Check it out," Jay said. "Looks like this place fared pretty well after all." The occupants of the lead Mercedes limousine sat quietly, not watching the scenery or chatting about anything at all. The silence was broken by the driver, who lowered the glass panel between him and his passengers. What he said was met with a nod by the man sitting in the center of the rear seat. The panel went back up, and the car pulled into a parking garage on a side street. The trailing limo's doors opened first, a trio of men in dark suits getting out of the back. They spread out and stood in seemingly-neutral positions around the two cars, and only then did the lead car's doors open up. Two more dark-suited men stepped out of the lead car, one on each side. Then the driver got out and helped an older man out of the back of the car. The last man out of the car was about fifty years old, with wiry silver hair and a brush-style moustache. He wore a suit that was somewhat olive-brown in color. He walked casually to the front of the car, the men who'd been with him sticking close by. "I see you didn't listen to the part about coming alone," a voice said in accented English from a row of parked cars nearby. The man turned and held his arms apart. "I am alone," he said, also in English, but his accent was distinctly Russian, whereas the other speaker was from some other place - perhaps even offworld. When the voice didn't respond, the Russian man said, "Do you think I would not bring along my protection?" "Your kind are all alike," the other speaker said with contempt after a moment's pause. "And your kind," the Russian man answered with a faint smile, "well, as 'my kind' says, the jury is still out, no? So it is for all of our benefit that my colleagues watch over us. If you wish, think of it as protection for us both. You know that not everyone in this place would be fond of your presence." "Enough doubletalk," the other man said, finally emerging from between two parked cars. He was tall, but muscular and well-built. His hair was an odd shade of orange, like red-haired people might be depicted in comics or illustrations. His skin, though, was a bluish-grey, and it appeared to be natural. "Are you alone?" one of the Russian bodyguards said sharply. "Of course not," the Zentraedi man snapped back. "But we dare not gather in groups, lest we be picked up and made to work in the Micronian camps." "Suit yourself," the man in the olive-brown suit nodded. "But it would be wise if you would direct any of your comrades, who are not gathering in groups with you, to not make any threatening moves towards me or my men." The Zentraedi man glared for a moment, then lifted his head and shouted something abruptly in his own language. One by one, four other Zentraedi men stood up from their hiding places, holding weapons in plain sight, but not in a threatening way. "Very well," the Russian man smiled. "Shall we get to business now?" "What do you want from me?" "To help you," responded the Russian. "You want nothing in return?" "We can discuss what I want in return later. For now, let's discuss what YOU want." "How do I know you aren't part of the Micronian army trying to trick me into telling you something I normally wouldn't?" "You don't," came the answer. "But would I spend all this time trying to get information from you, instead of just taking you in - since you've already established with me that you don't like the Human forces and want nothing to do with them?" The Zentraedi glared again, then bit out, "For a Micronian, you are a smart one." "Thank you," the Russian smiled again, dipping his head in a nod. "You may call me Nicolai." "I am called Cloran," the Zentraedi man nodded. "So, Nicolai, what can you do for me?" "You want to take back your freedoms that you've recently found," Nicolai said. "So far from home, with no resources at your disposal to either return to the ways you know, or experience the freedom everyone has been promising your kind." "And you can support this how?" "I can put you beyond the reach of the RDF," Nicolai said, his tone changing to that of a businessman laying out a proposal. "You and as many of your comrades as you can gather. You can be free to do what you want, so long as you do some things for me from time to time." "What you're describing sounds an awful lot like what awaits us here," Cloran said. Nicolai shrugged, and spread out his hands, smiling. "I will admit, sometimes in order to win freedoms, others must be sacrificed. But what I offer you is closer to what you are used to than anything else you could do." Cloran bristled. "What if what we used to do isn't what we want to do?" Nicolai tch'ed. "Then we negotiate, my friend," he said, as if it was something that should be plainly obvious. "That is the nature of business." "So what is it that we must do for you?" "MUST do?" Nicolai said, tch'ing again and looking disappointed. "With all due respect, comrade Cloran, toss aside your prejudices and beliefs. What I would LIKE for you to do is provide personnel for me when I require them. All the rest of the time you are free to do as you please, so long as you stay in touch." "An army." "If you say so," Nicolai shrugged. He gestured around to the men about him. "Consider it more like protecting my interests." Cloran glanced around at his fellow Zentraedi, gauging their opinions with just expressions and body language. He looked back at Nicolai after a moment. "We need some time to discuss this," he told the Russian. "There are more than just us five to be consulted." "But of course," Nicolai smiled, again dipping his head in a nod. "Take as much time as you need. When shall we meet again?" Cloran said with surprise, "Aren't you going to tell me your offer is for a limited time, or you can't wait forever?" Nicolai threw his head back and laughed out loud. "You have watched many movies, I see. Do not gauge human nature by their portrayals alone." He smiled one more time at the Zentraedi man. "It is true I would prefer it sooner than later. But I know it takes time to gather your people - on the quiet, of course - and get their opinions." Cloran hmm'ed. "Seven days from now." Nicolai pointed to the floor of the parking garage. "Here again? At the same time as tonight?" "Why not," Cloran shrugged. Nicolai beamed and took a step forward. "I look forward to seeing you again," he said, and held out his gloved hand. "This is where good businessmen, as they say, 'shake on it'." Cloran regarded Nicolai curiously, and then mirrored the Russian's actions, holding out his own hand, which Nicolai seized firmly but carefully and pumped it up and down twice, sporting a broad grin. Moments later, as the Zentraedi dispersed and the Russians re-entered their limousines, the bodyguard to Nicolai's left got in and closed the door. "" he said in his native tongue. Nicolai pulled his gloves off one finger at a time, laying them across his knee. "Da," he said briskly. 20 MARCH 08:31PM "All right, trivia time." Jason looked across from his cockpit, through the Lexan, across 75 meters of open, twilight sky, at his partner in his own cockpit. "Come again?" "Gotta keep ourselves occupied," Rich grinned. "Don't wanna fall asleep and pile into a mountain." Jay looked at the flat plain before them. "Um, okay," he answered. Richard started in right away. "There are two o's in Goose, boys." Jay chuckled. "Are you going easy on me or what? Top Gun." Rich banked the fighter as they came to the edge of their patrol boundary; Jason followed suit. Richard said, "Very good, Lieutenant." "Okay," Jay said, pausing for a moment to think. Finally he said, "Fortune and glory, kid. Fortune and glory." "Indiana Jones." "Which one?" Jason asked. "Temple of Doom." "Hm, maybe I'm the one going too easy," Jay smiled. "Or maybe we're just both that good," Rich laughed. Jason was about to start another round when the other radio crackled to life. "Grey flight, this is Albuquerque Base." "Loud and clear, Base; go ahead." "Just checking the radio signal now that you're that far out, on radar," the woman in the control center said. "Like I said, five by five, Base," Jason answered. "Looks like that new tower is working well. Is there anything specific going on that we should be looking for?" "Dare I say it," came the reply in a jovial tone, "But it all seems quiet." "Here too," Jason responded. "If you don't have anything up by the time our circuit is complete, we'll just come back to base." "Roger that, Grey Leader," the controller answered. "Good luck. Base out." Jason looked over to Rich. "Hear that?" "Got it," Richard acknowledged. "Another boring orbit and then home for another boring night watching movies." "Awww, don't look at it that way," Jason said sympathetically. "Someday it'll turn out." "So you keep saying," Richard grinned. "Hey, if this is such a quiet night, why don't we pick it up at little?" "Pick it up, huh?" "Yeah," Rich said, nudging the throttle and surging slightly ahead. "Hey, you're the wingman," Jason shot back, picking up the pace himself. "I'm the leader." Rich responded with a laugh and another burst of speed, taking himself higher and making some space to maneuver between himself and his friend. Jason allowed the opened formation, bringing up his own speed and barrel-rolling from Rich's left to his right. Rich, for his part, kept himself perfectly straight and level for the duration of the maneuver, then did a similar roll, not to be outdone. The two fighters continued this way along the rest of their patrol route, still wary and watchful yet enjoying the sparsely populated night skies. Cloran stood in the parking garage, frowning and checking his watch. "" one of his colleagues told him in Zentraedi. "" he told her. "" "" "" Cloran spoke up, loud enough to be heard by the Zentraedi hidden about the parkade, but quiet enough to not draw attention from the street. "" For a long moment, no one moved a muscle. Cloran could not see his fellow Zentraedi, but knew they weren't going anywhere. After a long glare, the woman who had been talking with him turned and walked up the vehicle ramp. One or two Zentraedi stepped forward from their hiding places and stared after her, unsure of whether to follow or not. "" Cloran nearly shouted. He waved a hand at the departing few. "" Ultimately, all those who had revealed themselves silently slid back into the shadows. Cloran paused, then nodded, and checked his watch one more time. Nicolai's sedans glided down the streets of New Albuquerque, which were rapidly becoming slick with the rain that had just begun to fall. He sat on the center of the rear seat of the trailing limo, the two cars having exchanged positions since his last excursion. "" one of the bodyguards asked, in Russian. "" Nicolai answered. "" The cars weaved through the pedestrians crowding the downtown area of the city, making turns to head them more-or-less towards the parkade, albeit on a fairly indirect course. "" "" Nicolai said. "" "" came the acknowledgement. A single automobile came into the parkade, water rolling off the highly waxed surface as the car came in from the thunderstorm that was brewing outside. Cloran stood in full view at the end of the aisle, much as he had the week previous. "Where is the other car?" he asked as the people got out of the car. "Protecting us all," Nicolai said, tugging at his lapels to straighten out his suit. "Worry not about them." "Very well," Cloran nodded. "Then my people are protecting us all, as well." Nicolai smiled warmly. "Of course," he said. "Have you come with a decision?" "Tell me more of this army," Cloran said. "What do you know of this world's history?" Nicolai said after a moment's pause. "Virtually nothing," Cloran answered impatiently. Nicolai took his time preparing his answer. "About twenty years ago, before the battlefortress came, we were a world at war with each other. Everyone had their own ideologies and wants, and silenced everyone else in order to be noticed." Nicolai leaned forward and pressed his fingertips on the hood of the car as he spoke across it to Cloran. "I am trying to make sure all those voices get heard." Outside, standing under the overhang of the building, watching the rain fall, Lev Cescu kept one hand under his jacket. His hand rested on the grip of his gun, fixed into a shoulder-holster. He watched the rain drum down incessantly on the street, the buildings, and the car, where his partner sat, idling the engine, lights out, the moderate evening traffic flowing around his position. Both of them, as well as their third partner, who was similarly tucked into an alcove on the other side of the parkade entranceway, were soldiers. At least, to hear Colonel Ivanov say it, they still were. The old man meant well, and maybe he would succeed in getting these aliens to join him in rebuilding even a portion of the Red Army. Lev, though he trusted and backed up his commander one hundred percent, would believe the outcome when he saw it happening. A yellow motorcycle pulled up beside the driver's side of the car, and Lev stopped leaning against the wall and stood up straight. Probably someone just asking for directions, he mused, but the full-face helmet with the black visor, in the dark of night, made him feel uneasy - He blinked as his partner turned towards the driver's window to answer whatever was said to him, and instantly fell over inside the car, which slowly started to roll forward. Lev gripped his pistol and started to pull it from his holster, only to suddenly feel a sharp pain right through his wrist and into his chest, enough pain that he couldn't even stay on his feet anymore.. The motorcycle rider fired one more shot, at the other alcove, dropping the machinegun-toting guard. He then spun the bike around in a tight circle and zipped into the parking garage, as the car bumped up against a lightpost and came to a stop. "Grey team, Grey team, this is Albuquerque base, urgent," came the controller's voice over the radio. "Go ahead," Jason said, amending, "We're five miles out, about to turn onto final." "Negative on that," the controller said, sounding stressed. "There's some kind of disturbance going on in the commercial district. We initially had reports of gunplay in the area of the outdoor mall, and now there are a pair of full-sized wandering about." "Roger, base," Jason nodded, seeing Rich pull up close to him in his peripheral vision. "We're on it." "Roger," she responded. "Civil defense will be on this channel as well." The original battleground - the area around the parking garage - had been all but cleared by the civil defense squad. From eyewitness reports, a motorcycle rider had pulled up and shot the three men outside in a matter of seconds, then roared into the parking garage, where intense gunfire was heard. Seconds later, another dark car roared backwards out of the garage, but stopped short when a giant boot crushed its trunk, pinning the car like a mouse whose tail has been set upon by a cat. Three men burst from the car, running off into the adjacent alleys, and other men started to scatter from the garage, firing in all directions - some at the car, some at the men who jumped from it, and some at the bike as it sped off. The two full-size Zentraedi, who were backing up Cloran's men in case exactly this was to happen, squashed the rest of the car flat in case anyone else was hiding within, then tried to locate the men who fled. They froze, though, as they heard the unmistakable sound of jet engines, even over the thunder and rain. "Attention Zentraedi!" came a voice over a loudspeaker, in English. "Stand where you are and put your hands in the air! This is the RDF!" Two Guardian-moded fighters - one green and white, and one yellow and black - appeared out of the rain and darkness, hovering about six hundred feet away, guns trained on the two. The one who had stepped on the car stopped and put his hands up, but his partner just stepped over the parking garage and another building and headed into the neighboring district. "I got him," Rich said, firing his thrusters and jetting after the fleeing Zentraedi. "Roger," Jay said and changed to Battloid mode, landing on the street before the Zentraedi who had stayed. He switched to his loudspeaker again, noting the damage on the ground and the emergency crews swarming around the entrance to a parking garage. To the Zentraedi, he said, "You are in violation of the Urban Protection Act. I am placing you under - " POW! The Zentraedi lashed out with a punch to the Veritech's head as soon as it was in line with him, sending it toppling over backwards. Jason fought with the controls, but the mecha still landed on its back with a deafening crunch. Through the damaged video displays, Jason could see the Zentraedi turn and run. "One in custody, boss," Rich was saying over a comlink. "Good," Jason said, willing his fighter to stand. "The other one's fled though, and I'm not in a position to chase. Can you see if you - " "On it," Rich acknowledged. "He won't get away." "Thanks," Jason said, reaching out to try to adjust the displays, but the damage was in the external sensors - the Zentraedi's punch, combined with the constant rain, had damaged or destroyed at least three of the cameras and sensor pods on the mecha's head. He switched to Gerwalk mode again, turning to see if he could assist the civil defense groups. Only then did he see what he had landed on. Squashed flat, just as the limo had been, was a white and orange sport-utility vehicle. One or two lights mounted on a lightbar, on what had been the roof, still drunkenly spun around slowly, as the last bits of power left in the batteries died out. Two of the side doors, which had been open, lay flattened out beside the vehicle, and medical supplies were spread all over the sidewalk and the roadway. A woman in a paramedic uniform, partially covered by a rain slicker, was approaching the crushed support unit, staring at it in shock. "Uh oh," Jason mumbled to himself, running a hand down his face. "" the lead guard asked in Russian. "" Nicolai insisted. "" "" called out the trailing guard. The trio was running down an alleyway, searching for an open door behind which to hide. "" "" the trailing guard said. "" "" the lead guard shouted, wrenching open a door. The colonel and other guard hurried in, and the lead guard yanked it shut behind them. "" Nicolai ordered as he leaned against a wall to catch his breath. "" "" the trailing guard said, as the other one secured the door, "" "" Nicolai nodded. "" "" the other guard asked. "" Nicolai said. He looked around in the semi-darkness, brushing his wet hair with a hand. "" Jason shouted down at the paramedic, "Hey! I'm sorry!" She looked around for a second, disoriented to the location of the voice; Jay's engines were still at idle, and were nearly deafening to everyone in a two-block radius. Finally she looked up at the open cockpit. "What??!" she shouted back. "I said, I'm sorry for wrecking your - !" Jason cut himself off as the last Zentraedi stepped over the building again, being chased by Richard. Quickly, Jason sat down, flipped a few switches, and lashed out with one of his Guardian's fists, doubling the Zentraedi over, where he ultimately slid down the metal hand and collapsed to the street. Knocking over a light pole, and almost flattening the poor woman on the ground, again. "Hey!!" "Sorry!" Jason blurted out again. He stood up again as Rich landed further up the street. "I'll make it up to you!" He nodded towards the flattened car. "I can't hear you!" she still shouted, pointing to her ear with one hand while pointing at his plane with the other. "What? Oh hell," he said to himself, about to flip on the loudspeakers when a civil defense unit swept through the intersection, clearing out all the remaining people on foot, including the paramedic. Just in time; the Zentraedi groaned and started to get up - - but a well-placed knee from Rich's mecha, to the small of the Zentraedi's back, laid him out well and truly unconscious. Rich turned his Battroid's head to face Jay's open cockpit. "Second in custody," came the report. "Good job," Jason said, finally using the radio mike in his helmet. He looked around the intersection. "Hey, did you see where that medic went?" "Hopefully far away, if she wants to keep alive," Rich answered. "Considering the massive amounts of property damage we're looking at here." Jason surveyed the block. Three cars were destroyed, several unidentified men were dead, a light post was knocked over; the road was cracked and bulged from the fall of several giants; and the parking structure itself had a few chunks taken out of it from falling Zentraedi. "Yeah," he murmured, his eyes falling to the destroyed paramedic vehicle. "I'm gonna be writing until Christmas on this one." "Then we better get back," Richard said. "Get writing while the adrenaline's still pumping. Besides, there's no way I'll let you write till Christmas." "Thanks, pal." "Hallowe'en at the latest," Rich quipped. Jason winced. "Ouch! Gee, thanks!" The two Veritechs lifted off and headed back towards base. Nicolai watched as Alexei and his men came in through the doorway and shook off the rain. They were in a restaurant, it seemed, and had found not only the lights but the heat and the stove, and each was working on a warm meal. "" Nicolai gestured to Alexei's men with a piece of toast. He looked to Alexei and said, "" "" Alexei said. "" "" Nicolai nodded. "" He put down his plate and said, "" "" one of Nicolai's own guards said. "" "" Nicolai declared. "" "" Morning found the Zentraedi camping in the nearby foothills, as predicted. "" someone asked Cloran. He sat there, studying the campfire as it cooked some meat for them. Finally, he said, "" "" another pointed out. "" "" Cloran snapped. "" "" a third subordinate piped up. Cloran shot him a look. "" "" Cloran paused for a moment, then stood. "" "" "" Cloran said, spinning to face the speaker. "" Jason got up early that morning, unsuccessfully washing away his weariness in the shower. He walked through the base offices, gathering the required forms and documents required for the reports he had to file. Upon finding them all, he went towards the commander's office, finding an empty desk in the situation room where he could sit down and start typing. The last free desk faced away from the commander's glass-walled inner office, though the 'executive assistant' was out in the hall and could be heard answering the commander's phones and such, almost non-stop. Jason tried to focus on his report, remembering as much detail as possible in order to present as complete a picture as he could. (Yes, sir,) he imagined himself saying. (The Zentraedi were beaten back successfully. How much damage did they do? Probably eighty to a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars all told, damage to the building and public property. And the damage we did? Oh let's see, let's ballpark at two hundred thousand to start...) (How much does a fully loaded paramedic unit go for?) Jason found himself wondering. He spent the morning and the better part of the afternoon working in the office, while people came and went from both the deskpool and the inner office. A few said hi, even chatted from time to time, but most simply went about their own business. Finally, Jason got up and went to the printer to retrieve his reports, all 26 pages of them. He walked over to the assistant's desk and began to drop them off. "I thought you'd never get done," she joked. "I was about to ask you if you needed a bunk for the night." "Teach me to give a Zentraedi a talking-to," he shot back. "You know, if everyone understood how much work this was, maybe we'd all get along, by default." He grinned, then looked up at the CO's office to see what the boss was doing. His view of the commanding officer was blocked by a jacket hanging on the coat rack inside the window. As he focused on the jacket, he realized it was a New Albuquerque EMS uniform jacket. His gaze shifted to the person sitting on the guest's side of the commander's desk, apparently in a conversation with the CO. She was in uniform, a dark blue shirt and multi-pocketed 'battle pants' with a reflective stripe down the outer seam. Her fire-red hair was tied up in a high ponytail that still fell down two-thirds of the way to her waist. She had her hands folded in her lap, legs crossed, as she listened, and occasionally spoke or nodded. "Huh?" Jason said as he realized the assistant was talking to him. "I said, want a stapler?" "Oh. Thanks." He took the device and fastened the pages together. "When'd she get here?" he asked, nodding to the office. "'Bout ten minutes ago," the assistant nodded. "Something about settling up some damage complaints with the city." "Yeah," Jay nodded kind of distantly. "Any idea how long they'll be?" "Well, CO just told me to cancel his dinner with the XO." "Oh," Jason said. "That long." "Yeah." "Okay," Jay finally said reluctantly. "Thanks anyway." He bid her farewell, then headed out of the office and into the parking lot. He didn't need to; his own room in the barracks was a covered passage away, across the courtyard. The parking lot would take him around the long way, but he wanted to see.. There was no City vehicle in the parking lot, let alone an EMS vehicle. He winced, realizing it was a direct cause of his actions. But maybe it would be something he could salvage, unless the EMS director wanted his head. (Shortest command in the history of the RDF,) he daydreamed. Then he shook it off, and continued on to his barracks, thinking of ways he could turn things around. Cloran sat in his tent, pondering. The troop had grown in size even over the course of the day; as Zentraedi got word the crew was gathered outside town, they flocked into the area. Three more full-size and a dozen micronized Zentraedi had joined the group. Cloran had left the job of bringing the new arrivals into the group to his subordinates. He had other things to worry about, and they were more than competent for this task. Cloran was impressed at the new crews' devotion to him, even though they didn't know his cause. He wasn't sure if he even knew, himself; that was the important business he'd busied himself with the whole day. The issue, of course, was the Micronian and his proposal. What little he knew of the humans, Cloran knew that a single assassin would not be this Russian man's style. He would instead have two or three car-loads of suited guards, eyes shaded by dark glasses, carrying weapons poorly hidden under their jackets. Men who were not built to wear such formal clothing. Men who were best suited for a warrior's uniform. Would he hold to his promises, the Russian? Would the Zentraedi be free to do as they pleased, so long as they performed when the man asked for it? That seemed fairly decent - they would not be locked in work camps, nor would they be forced to obey their Zentraedi masters to the letter. They would be free, and able to do what they knew best. Or, they could camp in the wastelands and try to survive on the few Earth wildlife that were left after the Rain. Bolar, one of Cloran's subordinates, looked into the tent. "" "" "" "" "" he said. "" "" "" "<Bring me a phone.>" Bolar blinked. "" he said, disappearing from the tent flap. Moments later, he returned with a satellite phone. Cloran held it to his ear. "I am here," he said flatly. "Cloran," Nicolai said warmly, like he was greeting an old friend. "It is good to hear your voice. I am relieved you are well." "Save your pleasantries," Cloran said in the same tone he was using before. "I don't think you were responsible for the assault." There was a barely-perceptible pause from Nicolai's end. "And I the same for you, sir," Nicolai said. "So I hope we can meet again and try once more?" "On my conditions," Cloran said sternly. "Not anyone else's." "I see," Nicolai responded. "While I don't believe you were behind the attack, I can't be sure all my soldiers share that sentiment. And saying that, I'm sure you will agree that steps have to be taken to ensure it doesn't happen again." "I'm listening, comrade Cloran." "We will meet out in the wastelands, outside this city," he said. "In a place we can easily see any intruders coming. Where both our groups can stay in full view of the other." "I suppose that is acceptable," Nicolai accepted. "When?" "Tomorrow when the star over your world shines its brightest," Cloran said. "I will have a subordinate provide you with the co-ordinates." Nicolai laughed into the phone. "High noon," he said. "I am so enjoying the 'wild West'. Expect us tomorrow, comrade." Cloran grunted agreement and passed the phone to Bolar again. THE NEXT MORNING 11:00AM Jason and Richard, in their civvies, had decided to go out for a late breakfast/early lunch. They had a patrol on the schedule for the afternoon, so getting in a good meal first was not only warranted, but almost mandatory. The restaurant across from the base, "The Lunch Pad", was rather packed. Military and civilian alike flocked to the place regularly, as it had good food and good service at great prices. Jay and Rich had their meals on trays and were searching for a table to sit at when Jason stopped short; Rich bumped into him gently, and almost spilled his tray. "Hey!" "Wow," Jason explained. "What?" Rich looked around his friend, leaning out to see Jason staring at a woman across the restaurant, sitting near the door, by herself. She had long, red hair that was tied up in a ponytail, and although she was in civilian clothes instead of a city paramedic's uniform, Jason recognized her right away. "It's her," he breathed. "I've been seeing that girl EVERYWHERE." Rich chuckled. "I dunno, pal." Jason veered off towards her table. "Go ahead," he said. "I'll see you in a while." The young lady was working on her french fries when Jason came up. She looked up at his greeting. "Hello," he said. "Is this seat taken?" She glanced over and shrugged at him. "Feel free," she said. Jason sat down and started right in. "You may not remember me." "I'm sorry?" "I'm the pilot from the other night. I did an unplanned modification to your paramedic unit." Realization crossed her face, and then she shrugged again. "They were able to salvage a lot of the gear," she said, dipping a french fry in ketchup and popping it into her mouth. "But I will admit, it was my favorite PRU." "PRU?" "Paramedic Response Unit. You see, I work alone. I go to scenes ahead of the ambulance, which might be responding from a farther-away station. I stabilize the scene as best I can until the transport unit gets there." "Ah, I see." He paused and toyed with his food for a second before taking a bite, then saying, "I'm sorry to hear that I wrecked your favorite vehicle." She nodded. "Since we take our trucks home, as daily drivers, I'm taxiing my way around town for now." He saw the window of opportunity slide open, and dove through it. "Well, in that case, let me loan you my car. It's not a truck, and it's not the newest thing on the road, but it'll get you around." She sat blinking for a moment, a little stunned. Then, she shook her head. "Thank you, but I'll manage." "Please. I owe it to you." "I'm getting good exercise by walking and cabbing." "At least let me pay you for the taxi fares, then. Let me make it up to you somehow." She looked at him for a moment, then reached out and took his napkin from beside his plate, using it to wipe her face clean. As she finished, she smiled slightly, setting the napkin in her lap and pushing away the empty plate. "Thanks, but I think I'll be fine," she said, shrugging on her jacket. Jason looked up as she stood and tried one more long shot. "Would you at least give me your name and number so I can get in touch in case you change your mind?" She grinned and shook her head in disbelief. "Nice try," she said. "But I guess I should go a little easy on you. My name's Kim." "Jason," Jay said. "Lieutenant Jason Low." She nodded, dropping the napkin back on his plate. "I appreciate your concern, Lieutenant. I've got to get to work, though." With that, she smiled one last time, turned, and headed out of the restaurant. Richard wandered over and sat down with his own partially-finished meal, sitting in the same seat Kim had just vacated. He grinned at Jason. "L.T.! You're goin' down! Eject, eject!!" Jay tossed the napkin in his lap and smiled weakly. "Oh, shut up." Rich laughed politely. "Did you really think she wouldn't blow you off? One thing she did get right, though... we ALL have to work pretty soon. It's almost eleven-thirty. Let's get fed and go get ready for patrol." "Yeah.." Jay nodded, and took another bite of his burger. As he did, and Richard kept ribbing him about his failed attempt to get Kim to open up to him, he glanced down at the napkin in his lap, and blinked. He read what was scrawled on it. Kim Shea, Abq EMS Extension #6332 He scrunched it up and stuffed it into a pocket. "Yeah, okay, I'm hurryin'." 11:54 Cloran sat in the middle seat in the battlepod. It had been retrofitted for Micronian-sized users, three to a pod. In that manner, it was piloted much like an RDF Monster mecha: The driver to the left, gunner to the right, and the captain in the center rear. Cloran never made captain, though. Though he didn't let on to anyone in "his" group, he had never made it beyond Gunnery Operator 1st Class. Still, the dozens of Zentraedi that currently surrounded him followed him, loyally and faithfully. Perhaps leadership didn't require a title after all. "" Cloran asked his gunner. "" the man on the weapons console said. "" "" Cloran looked at the timepiece on his wrist, the one that told the Human time equivalent. "" he observed. "" the gunner asked. "" Cloran said. "" Cloran waited while the message was relayed, surveying the radar and the visual displays for himself. The pod sat in silence for a while, and Cloran used the time to ponder his options. Nicolai could be sincere and want to form an equal alliance. Or he could be looking to gain a few cheap and unwitting slaves. Someone who would volunteer to join his cause, and get caught with no way out. Or, he could be on the Micronians' side, and be luring the Zentraedi into a trap that would take them straight to an internment camp.. Cloran shook off that thought as the gunner reported again. "" "" Cloran said. "" "" NINE MINUTES LATER 120 MILES SOUTH-SOUTHEAST 3600 FEET Jason watched his altitude tick off at the desired level and pushed the altitude hold switch. "Here we are," he announced. The yellow and black fighter rose up off his right wing and waggled its wings before settling into level flight. "And the skies are clear," Richard added. Jay keyed his mike again and adopted an almost humorously pleasant tone. "Good afternoon gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We're now at flight level 36 cruising at a speed of 500 miles an hour. We're expecting to reach our intended destination of complete and utter boredom at any moment. If you'd care to look out the right side of the plane, you'll see a lot of wasteland. If you look out the left side, however, you'll see an entirely different bunch of wasteland. Thanks for flying Air RDF and we hope to see you next time." Rich tch'ed. "Careful. Impersonating a captain is a serious charge." Jay laughed. "This is impersonating real work." "What do you want to do?" "What about some ACM?" "They'd be on our case so fast.." Rich trailed off. He was right; surely the satellite tracking systems would see the rapid actions of Air Combat Maneuvering, even training exercises, and alert the crews on the SDF-1 to the situation, scrambling other fighters to the area. "I know, I know. But if we cover the entire zone, who says we have to follow the GPS-provided routes to the inch?" "Is that your long-winded way of saying you want to divert from our flight plan?" "If that's your way of saying do I want to take a different route, yeah." Rich chuckled. "I'm right behind you, pal." "So what do you suggest?" "Got your PDA with you?" Rich asked. "Yeah." "Random heading?" Rich suggested. "Sure," Jason laughed, and picked up his pocket computer. He started the random number generator, and nodded at the result. "Turn to a heading of 65," he suggested, and started banking his own fighter. NEW ALBUQUERQUE EMS HEADQUARTERS Kim Shea sat in the office at EMS, catching up on her paperwork. Because they had yet to find a replacement vehicle for her, she was relegated to desk duty, doing case review, quality assurance, and so on. She spent the largest portion of her day going over patient care reports, making sure everyone on the job had crossed their t's and dotted their i's. She all but jumped when the phone on the desk rang. After the second ring, she picked it up and said, "Extension 32. Oh.. hi, Jeremy. What's up?" She leaned back in the chair. "What do you want?" she said tiredly, with a joking tone. She hated it when she was asked for a favor. It was like the old comedy routine... the pause between the question and the favor was indicative of the size of the favor needed. 'Do me a favor and hand me that pencil' was one thing. 'Can you do me a favor?...' meant you were in for something big. Kim tch'ed and shook her head with a grin. "You and your magazines, it's like an addiction. Yeah, I'll get them, but you have to owe me this time. And I'm on desk duty today, so I won't be back with them till I'm home tonight." "Okay, I getcha. I'll leave them by your door. And the bill. I promise. Talk to you later, bro." Kim hung up and glanced at the phone for a moment, looking at its ID - Extension 32 - and sighed. What had she been thinking? Why did she give that pilot her name and number? At least she only gave him her work number, not home. Sure, he was a cool guy for being chivalrous, being sorry for wrecking the PRU, but that was the limit of his responsibility. He wasn't obligated to repair or repay for the truck. It'd be listed as a war casualty, and the EMS Department would just bill the RDF for it. Granted, Kim told herself, she was used to good old 32. The way it pulled ever so slightly to the left, which made it easier to keep straight when the road was a little crowned. The way the roll-out trays in the back had a little kink in the track so they'd come out slowly and not smash against the bump-stop and spill all their gear into the street. And the Rain had done more than wipe out billions of people; infrastructure was decimated. About the only place still actively manufacturing vehicles was the SDF-1's internal factories, and the odds were that the Robotech ship wouldn't be able to alter their construction lineup for the production of just one medic unit. She sighed and returned to her work, after jotting down a note to grab her brother's weekly dose of magazines on the way home. He was 21, six years her junior, and worked sporadically for some of his friends and acquaintances, doing odd jobs. She'd tried to get him into paramedicine, but he wasn't interested in the two years of schooling it'd take to become a medic. Oh well. It wasn't for everyone. He had his own life to live, and she respected that. She smiled and got back to work. Cloran watched the dust get kicked up from the six-vehicle convoy approaching his position. Three limousines, two pickup trucks with something in the back, and a five-ton truck with a covered bed. "" a lieutenant said to Cloran over the radio. He just grunted and nodded. The group was silent as the group of vehicles pulled closer. As they came even with a ridgeline, Cloran ordered, "" Pods came down from the ridge and surrounded the motorcade. The pickup trucks, which were leading and trailing the convoy, stopped abruptly, and it was apparent what was in their beds - men with large-caliber machine guns bolted to the truck frame, and other men crouching with shoulder-mounted rockets. "You don't need the weapons," Cloran said over the loudspeaker. One of the cars disgorged its people casually and leisurely. Nicolai was one of them, and called out loud, "Neither do you!" "" Cloran told his pilots. "" The battlepod picked its way down the hill, then crouched like a bird trying to lay an egg. The rear hatch opened and Cloran climbed out, his lieutenants in other pods did the same. Nicolai said something in Russian to his men, and they relaxed and stepped back slightly. Nicolai explained, "I have asked them to stay in the background, so to speak, so we can accomplish our work." Cloran nodded. He gestured to his own men, and they did the same. "Rest assured though, at the first sign of hostility, my men will not hesitate to make this a very un-survivable locale." Nicolai kept his pleasant, friendly smile on his face, while he nodded and responded to Cloran, "And my men the same." The two men approached one another. Nicolai said, "I must say, I'm impressed with the Zentraedi armor. These 'battle pods' look like fearsome machines." "This area won't be safe forever, Micronian," Cloran warned. "Let's get our business done and get to cover." "Of course, my frien - " "Spare me the Micronian pleasantries," Cloran said with an irritated tone. "Lay out your plans 'on the table', as your kind says. Give it all to me now and without any doubletalk." Jason was humming along to the song running through his head. (That does it,) he told himself. (My next days off I'm going to hook a walkman into the plane and have some tunes to break up the boredom.) "Hey," Richard suddenly said. "This is interesting." "Huh?" Jay said, noticing in his mirrors that Rich's plane was arcing upwards and climbing higher in the sky. Instinctively, he lifted his fighter's nose and followed suit. "Check out triple-one," Rich said. "I'm trying to get a better signal." Jason changed his radio to 11175, the frequency in question, and heard through the static, the SDF-1 relocating crews and patrols. Rich explained, "Sounds like they have a major firefight up north. They're stretching out all the patrols from the south to fill in." Jason nodded and uh-huh'ed, then waited to hear his sector being called. When it was, he keyed the mike and said, "SDF-1, I've copied all in the past five minutes; by my calculations you want me to widen my patrol 65 miles further north, is that right?" "Affirmative, Grey Lead," Claudia Grant's voice came over the radio, strengthening as the fighter climbed higher in the sky. "Thanks." "Roger, SDF-1," Jason said, going into a right turn. In his other ear, on the local frequency, he heard Richard. "A-B-Q control, this is Grey flight, we've just gotten orders to stretch out a little north to fill in some gaps. We'll be turning to a heading of 015 and climbing to flight level 120." The fightercraft started climbing and heading towards the north. A Heavy Battle Pod sat on the ridge, along with two Light and one Regular Battle Pod. Their responsibility was to watch the skies and make sure everything stayed safe on the ground, protected from enemy attack. Bolar sat in the captain's seat of the Heavy, bored but still alert. He knew how important this meeting was, and why they had to be protected. He still wasn't personally sure if it was the right thing, but it wasn't his place to dispute that. "" the gunner said. "" The pilot impressed Bolar by turning the ship to face due south as soon as the gunner mentioned it. Cloran was right, these men were good crews. "" he said to the gunner. "" "" "" Bolar hmm'ed and thought about it some more. "" the gunner said. Bolar sat up. "" "See anything?" Jason asked. "Nothing new," Richard said. "There's a few things out on the fringes, but they don't appear to be hostile. Other than that, I don't even see the next-up patrol on my long-range radar." "Fair enough," Jay nodded. He seemed to fall deep into thought for a moment. Rich laughed. "Forget her, pal," he said. "What?" "Look, the only way you're going to see her again is MAYBE if you have to get taken to the hospital, and I'm not about to let that happen." Jason grinned a little and said, "I don't know how exactly to take that." He was about to speak again, when a warbling tone filled his ears. He glanced startledly at his displays. "SHIT! I'm being locked onto! Check those guys again!" Richard was a flurry of motion inside his cockpit as he too detected the radar lock on his partner, and tried to determine its origin. Then something new popped onto his radar. "Break right! Break right! Break right!" he urged hurriedly. Jason stood his fighter on one wing and pulled a 6G turn, heading at right angles to his previous path. Instinctively, he dumped three loads of chaff and pushed the throttle to the firewall. In his ear he heard Richard radioing in the encounter, grunting as he too was being subjected to high-G-loading, no doubt turning away from the incoming attack. Jay caught a fleeting glimpse in his mirrors of a pair of missiles as they streaked through the area he had just vacated, then settled back on course behind him again. He cursed and pulled into a tight inside loop to try to out-turn the rockets. Nicolai had been rather pleased with how it was going this time around. He was actually getting through to the Zentraedi, and had all but won them over to the proposition of joining his forces. He tried not to let his nervousness show when eyeing the armor units on the ridge as they paced back and forth, swivelling to and fro. "They are protecting both of us," Cloran tried to reassure him. "Pay them no mind." Nicolai nodded, and continued to sell Cloran and his men on the benefits of siding with him. He had everything going for him, and believed that the Zentraedi was going to agree and shake his hand in mere moments. That was when the deafening roar filled the small valley. Nicolai didn't flinch, but turned to see what the noise was; his bodyguards lurched towards him and moved to protect him. After seconds it became apparent there was no real danger, as the sound had come from one of the pods as it fired its rockets off into the sky - just the two from the left side pod. "What is going on??" Nicolai demanded of Cloran. His tone and demeanor were stern yet urgent. (He is a great warrior and leader,) Cloran observed, even as the other pods were turning to face the direction Bolar's had fired towards. Cloran gave an already-agreed-upon hand signal to his own pod crew, which was an instruction to tell the other pods to hold their fire. "" Cloran shouted up to the pod in Zentraedi. The heavy pod, its racks now only half-full, turned to face Cloran. Bolar's voice rang out in his native language. "" "What is he saying?" Nicolai wanted to know. "He says the Micronians are bringing mecha into our lap," Cloran hissed. "We must defend ourselves!" Nicolai blinked as the Zentraedi man, and the others who had dismounted with him, rushed towards their armors. "Stop! Wait!" Nicolai called out. "Comrade Cloran!" The Zentraedi commander, half-in-half-out of his mecha, turned and looked at the Russian. "What?" "I have an idea, comrade! Allow me to direct you and your troops for a moment, and you will see." Cloran studied Nicolai for a moment. From within the pod, Cloran's pilot said quietly, in Zentraedi, "" "" Cloran snapped. To Nicolai: "You have but one chance!" "Jay! It's still on your six!" Jason grunted as the G-forces fought him. "I know," he said to Rich. "I've got an idea, but you're going to have to trust me!" "Just let me outrun it, okay?" "These are heavy missiles! They're going to run for a half an hour! Listen, just do as I say." Jason thought for a second or two, then said, "All right!" "You need to be ahead of the game," Richard said, like he was giving basic flight instructions. "I mean, it needs to be trying to catch up to you... be one turn and 100 feet ahead at all times." "Trying to!" "Okay. Get to a point where it has to turn sharply to get back to you, then throw it into G mode!" "What?! I see where you're going, but that's sui - " "Trust me! I just did it with the other one!" Jason pulled into another tight turn, and an outside loop, going into a hard dive. When he figured he had enough turns against the missile, he issued a silent prayer to whoever was listening, and pulled the G-mode switch. Rich was right - Jay continued his outside loop, now going sharply downward due to the reconfigured fighter. The missile was unable to turn as fast, and passed overhead at a thousand miles an hour. Jason brought up his Guardian's gun pod and strafed across the sky until he shot the rocket right out of reality. "Woohoo!" Richard shouted. "Amazing!" "Thanks," Jay acknowledged. "But why didn't you just shoot it down yourself if you were tailing me?" Rich pulled up alongside and grinned across the gap at his wingman. "Feed a man a fish and he's satisfied for the day. Teach him to fish.." "Yeah, yeah," Jay smiled. "Thanks for teaching me how to fish. Now let's find out where those party crashers are hiding." The battlepods lay scattered about the ridge and valley, compartments open and empty. Bodies were sprawled all over the area, some with smoke rising from them. Two cars were upended, and a third haphazardly teetering on the side of the ridge, as if it had tried to drive up it suddenly. The two jet fighters appeared on the horizon momentarily, circling around the scene once or twice. As they banked to look down at the carnage, each pilot surveyed the downed mecha and Zentraedi, and humans, and ultimately banked back to level flight and headed north again. As the whine of the jets faded out, Cloran crawled from beneath his battlepod. He shrugged off his jacket, which had a ten-inch hole burned right through and still sizzling. His shirt and skin beneath were unharmed, since he'd shot through the jacket with his pod, then put it on. He frowned at it. "You owe me some new outerwear." Nicolai opened the driver's door of the car that was run partway up the hill. Climbing out, he laughed and said, "When we are settled in I will get you all entirely new wardrobes." Bolar extricated himself from an awkward-looking position made to look like he'd fallen into a jagged rockpile. "I am astonished that worked." "No thanks to you," Cloran shot back. "From now on when I say no firing without my direct order, I mean it." "No harm was done," Nicolai pointed out. "Though I admit, it was a close call." Cloran spun on Nicolai. "Those were two missiles we could not afford to waste. Our supplies grow thinner each day." "Can your armors take human made missiles and ammunition?" Nicolai asked. Cloran thought for a moment. "I'm not sure," he said. "Maybe with minor alterations." He didn't let on that he already knew the answer to the question, by personal experience. "Then I will be able to supply you with all you will ever need," Nicolai said. "If we are in agreement." Cloran saw Nicolai's hand sticking out and looked at it for a moment. Then he reached out and shook it. "You have a deal, human." "Please. Nicolai," he said with a smile. "Or Colonel Ivanov if you must." "So what now then, Colonel?" Cloran said. "I must go make arrangements for this, with my contacts abroad. However, I can and will leave my men in contact with you here, in case you need something, or vice versa." "It's my intent to keep my forces out here and in hiding for now, in that case," Cloran said. "Though we will keep in contact. But today's little excitement proved we are being watched." "I understand and agree," Nicolai said, nodding and shaking Cloran's hand. "Until we meet again, then, comrade." Cloran watched the full-size Zentraedi carefully righting the cars they'd strewn around earlier, then nodded firmly and met Nicolai's gaze. "Yes." Hours later, the two Veritechs were heading back to base. "Quite an eventful day," Rich said. Jay agreed. "Yeah, luckily we're going back in one piece." "Two pieces," Richard corrected with a stifled laugh. "Okay, okay," Jason admitted. "Good eye on that rocket, by the way." "And you," Rich replied. "Must've been strays from whatever battle was going on down there." "Yeah," Jay nodded. "You came through it all okay, did you? No problems?" "Not a one, it seems," Rich said. "You?" Jason looked warily at his displays. "It's probably not that big a deal, but I've got slightly low hydraulic pressure on system A. It's still looking good, I'll just keep an eye on it and see what happens." "Gotcha, boss." Twenty-five minutes later, they were approaching the base and preparing for a twin-formation landing. They were lined up for the dual runways, and had been given the local weather report - almost perfect, though there was a slight gusting crosswind every now and then. "We can handle that," Jay declared, and the fighters continued on towards their landings. Wings forward, flaps out, gear down.. ..and the leaking hydraulic line on the left side of Jay's fighter burst. "Uh oh," he stated calmly. "What?" Rich said. "Just lost all pressure in A. Still flyin' though. Can you see any problems?" To Richard's credit, he still managed to dip his plane lower and glide under Jay's fuselage, despite being very near stall speed. "I've got good news and I've got bad news," he said. "Hit me," Jay answered. "You got no visible damage, externally. But I can see hydraulic fluid seeping from the area of the knee joint. And your left mains aren't coming down." "That's what I'm showing here," Jay said, tapping the screen where the gear warning lights were displayed. It was a silly act, throwing back to the days of mechanical gauges, so he wasn't surprised when the liquid crystal displays didn't change. "You gonna declare?" Rich said. He was asking if Jason was going to declare an emergency. "Hang on," Jay said. He reached out and pulled down the G slider, to switch the plane to Guardian mode. A strong vibration shook the left side of the plane and a buzzer started sounding. As Jay returned the F slider into operating position, he simply said, "Guess so." "After you then," Rich said, trailing behind slightly. Jason looked over at the other ship. "I don't think so," he said. "Thanks for being kind and all, but what if I foul the runway? Get your ship down now, that's an order." Rich looked across at his friend briefly, then nodded and banked to make the turn onto final. "I'll make sure crash rescue's waiting," he said soberly. "See you on the ground," Jay firmly countered. He then concentrated on keeping the plane in the air, and communicating his problems with flight control. He flew an orbit in the pattern; the fighter was flying fine - the flight control surfaces were working perfectly. It was the gear and transformation assemblies that were shot. He arranged to land on the same runway he'd originally planned for, after a brief discussion about landing on the grass. It would have been an option, if he felt more comfortable with the airfield; but more than once, he'd inspected the grassy verge of a field and found deep ruts where a lawnmower had gotten stuck, or a hidden culvert peeking out between a taxiway and a runway. So no thank you, the runway was fine. As Jay inched downward towards the runway, barely above stall speed, he tried the gear one last time, and cancelled it as soon as he saw the warning light. "Okay," he murmured, "here goes nothin'." The fighter touched down on the runway and sparks started flying from the armored fuselage, along with heavy grey smoke. Jason, having no way to steer the ship, just held on and held tight. Halfway down the runway, a wind gust caught the plane and flipped the starboard wing up slightly. The port wing dug into the tarmac, then folded back against the fuselage, and the fighter continued to scrape along the runway on its nose and left side, the right wing sticking up in the air like a shark's fin. Eventually, it came to a stop. The fighter was canted at about a sixty degree angle to the left, and the cockpit was filling with smoke. Jason tried to open the canopy, but it was binding against something, so he just blew it off with the jettison handle. The first thing that Jason experienced besides the smoke was a splash of firefighting foam, as the crash trucks which had chased him down the runway started bathing the wreck in it. "Gah," he sputtered, and reached down to unbuckle his chest harness, but was stopped by hands intruding into his cockpit. "Stay right there, sir! We've got you!" "I'm okay," he tried to protest, but they insisted and reached into the cockpit, unbuckling him after stabilizing his neck and spine. "Lieutenant, you just made a hole 3900 feet long in the runway. Sit still and let us take care of you." "All right, all right," he said, relaxing. The medics took him aboard the ambulance. On his way to the truck, he glanced back at the plane, and saw that it was badly damaged, if not destroyed. He sighed and sat down on the cot in the back of the ambulance. Upon arrival at the field medical center, he was met by Rich and the base commander. "You okay, man?" Richard said. "Fine, I'm fine," Jason said, proving it by walking in under his own power. "Geez. I know it looks bad, but anything you can walk away from.." "Lieutenant, they're telling me it's initially looking like your plane's good for parts," the commander said. "It's totaled." Jason sighed. "Sit down and tell me about this encounter you two had." And so they did, discussing the missiles and the destroyed pods seen after. All told, it wasn't much of an encounter, by the standards of the battles the world had seen of late. "You did right," the commander nodded. "Best not to get involved if those pods were playing possum. We'll send some Destroids out later on to check on them." "Thank you, sir," Jason said. "Unfortunately," the commander said, "If your fighter turns out to be a wreck, we don't have any replacements." "Great." "Well, hang on now. Here's what we can do. It's time for the monthly squadron leaders' meeting in New Macross City. Take a commercial jet up there, and I'll arrange for you to bring a fighter back when you're done." "That works, I guess.." Jason said. Rich slapped him on the back and grinned. "Only guy I know that can walk away unscathed AND come up with a brand new ship in the space of 20 minutes." The commander nodded and smiled. "There'll be a boarding pass for you at 0800 tomorrow at the main terminal. Be ready and have a good time, Lieutenant." "Yes, sir," Jason saluted, then started to leave with Rich. "How does that go?" Rich teased as they waited for the light rail train, at the station three blocks from the airfield. "A good landing is when you can walk away. A great landing is when you get to use the plane again." "Oh shut up," Jason said, elbowing him in the ribs. "Let's get some food." "I thought you were on a crash diet." "Doh! Stop that." The train arrived, and they climbed aboard. At the other end of the platform, a red-haired paramedic got off, magazines tucked under her arm, and hiked across the street to an apartment building. Kim had a ground floor apartment off the alley, with an entrance directly to her apartment (instead of through corridors and passages inside the building). She unlocked the door, then pushed it open and gasped! as she encountered the front end of a motorcycle. She sighed as she realized it was parked in the short corridor between her apartment door and the living room. "Dammit, Jer!" she shrieked towards his room where she could hear speed metal playing. "I TOLD you not to put this thing in the house!" As she edged past it, with barely enough room for her to get by, the reply came over the music: "I'm not gonna leave it on the street! It's expensive!" She sighed and crossed the apartment, opening his room door and tossing the magazines beside him on the bed. "You owe me sixteen dollars." "You'll get it in the morning," he said, not turning his attention away from the video game he was playing on his TV. "How'd your day go? Did the military pay for your truck yet?" Kim supplied a calculated response: "We're in negotiations right now," she said, then leaned against the door jamb and sighed. "The RDF says it should be covered by the city's insurance, and the city thinks otherwise." Jeremy shrugged and shook his head. "If it was me, I'd sue the guy." "Well, I'm not you, so I guess that takes care of that," Kim countered. She turned and walked out of the room, calling out, "I'm getting something to eat, do you want anything?" "Nah, I got everything I need right here," he replied. The door swung closed again, and Kim went into the kitchen. Making a sandwich, she pondered her options. (Suing is probably out of the question anyway,) she realized, (since he offered me a replacement and I turned him down.) As she ate the peanut butter toasted sandwich, she thought, (I wonder if I can still meet up with him..) THE NEXT MORNING "" "" Nicolai said as he got out of the car and closed the door. He accepted the case that had been pulled from the trunk and handed to him. "" "" Nicolai smiled at him, the same smile he used with Cloran, "" "" Viktor said reluctantly. "" Nicolai chuckled as the two headed into the air terminal. "" "" "" Nicolai said, then gave a wave and headed for the boarding lounge. The plane was sparsely populated - there were barely forty people including crew, on a plane that seated 200. Nicolai had his choice of seats, picking a bulkhead aisle seat on the right. He sat down across the aisle from a young blond-haired man in civilian clothes who was looking attentively out the window. Nicolai pulled out a novel and read part of it while the plane boarded, taxiied, and departed. When it reached cruising altitude, he put the uninteresting book down and said, "You, sir, must be a pilot." Jason blinked and looked across at the man speaking at him. "I'm sorry?" "You. You are a pilot, no?" Nicolai nodded to Jason. "I am," Jason admitted. "How'd you know?" Nicolai smiled. "Most people fit one of two categories when flying. One, they are so petrified they hold onto anything they can find for dear life, and keep their eyes riveted on their hands. Or two, they sit back and relax and are all but bored by it. But you, sir.." Nicolai nodded to the window. "You were watching quite intently on the operations as we prepared to depart, and once we were in the air, your entire body seemed to try to make the plane maneuver of your own will." Jay shrugged and smiled slightly. "I guess that's true. And you?" Nicolai smiled and shook his head. "Just an ordinary businessman," he said. After a moment, he asked, "Military pilot, if I may ask?" Jason was bound to certain rules about disclosing his work to the public, but he at least could answer this question still. "Yes," he nodded. "Lieutenant Jason Low, RDF Air Force." Nicolai leaned across the aisle and shook Jay's hand. "I am Nicolai Ivanov," he told him. He nodded to the bulkhead. "It must be odd for you to be travelling back here instead of up front." Jay grinned. "I admit it's actually not bad," he said. "I'll be able to kick back and snooze at least part of the way." Nicolai laughed. "Yes, this is true," he said. "May I ask, what kind of business is there in Macross for a civilian? No offense meant, of course," Jason said. Nicolai shrugged and nodded, as if it was perfectly all right, and he wasn't perturbed one bit about the question - which was true. "Macross runs on more than just the military, of course," he said. "Who makes all the buildings to house the soldiers, or the food to feed them with?" "Of course," Jason apologized. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I get off in my own little world." "And you?" Nicolai asked. "What is a pilot doing flying to Macross without his plane?" Jason could answer this question as well. "I have to pick up a fighter and take it back home," he said. "They figured this was the easiest way." "Ahh. Yes, it must be very difficult to combat attrition in the far-distant towns such as this one." Jay smiled without an answer. After a moment, he said, "It's a challenge, but some people like challenges." Nicolai laughed. "Well said, Lieutenant! You find a way to answer me, yet hint that it's a topic to be put aside. You'd do well as a diplomat too." Jason smiled and shrugged. "I'm not the political type." Nicolai held up a finger, shaking it slightly. "I disagree. I think we all are, it's just that some of us don't focus on that facet of our personality - by fate, or by choice." Jason was a little intrigued. "How so?" Nicolai leaned over a little. "Everyone has their own role, their own life to lead. You have been blessed with the ability to defend our world physically." "And others by some other means, you're saying?" Nicolai smiled. "True, true. Your job is to react to those who choose to fight. What I am saying is, others have the same goal, yet their means are different. They are tasked with persuading these people to choose NOT to fight." As Nicolai leaned back, Jason nodded silently for a moment. "I see," he finally said. "Ah, I see you understand," Nicolai said. "I think so," Jay nodded again. "Good. I am glad I've been able to express myself appropriately." Nicolai reclined the seat, and lowered the adjacent window shade. "I think I'm going to take your advice, and 'catch a few'." "Thanks, and have a good rest." "And you, Lieutenant; and you." Rich pounded away at the pedals of the exercise bike. It reminded him of the controls of a Battloid, and running through the obstacle course in New Denver, during his mecha training. The exercise bike was an asset to the mecha pilots in specific, for the exact reason already mentioned. It helped them build the strengths they needed for the strenuous, repetitive movements required to mimic walking in their giant robots. The day had been anything but strenuous; after seeing Jay off, Rich had returned to base, had breakfast, and immediately flown out to the site of the encounter the day before. Backed up by a small army of Destroids, Richard found nothing but tracks in the sand. Not even a Battlepod part. "Ladies and gentlemen," Rich told the crews, "We've been had." He issued a quiet French curse to the confines of his cockpit. "Do you want to try and track them, Lieutenant?" a Destroid pilot asked. "Probably not worth it," Richard answered her. "They're probably long gone. Base, this is Grey Two, do you copy?" "We've got that, sir," came the reply. "What do you think about a Cat's Eye or similar taking a peek?" "See what we can arrange, sir." "Good, thanks," Rich nodded. To the Destroids, he added, "You guys might as well turn around and head towards home. I'll cover your return." The trip home had been just as uneventful, and that is how Richard came to be in the fitness center at 3:25 in the afternoon. He was going to do another two miles on the bike, then shower and go out for dinner. As he finished on the bike, the PA crackled, and "Lieutenant Sirois, take Line 6 for a call," came over the speaker. Rich stood up and wrapped a towel around his head, wiping away the sweat, then let it hang from his neck. He grabbed the nearby phone and pushed line 6. "Sirois here." "Oh," said the woman on the other end. "I'm sorry. I may have the wrong number." "Who were you trying to reach?" Rich asked, thinking the voice sounded familiar. "I was looking for the squadron leader," she said. "Lieutenant Low..?" "He's off base on business," Richard said, grabbing the pen and paper fixed to the wall beside the phone. "Can I take a message?" "No, no, I'm sorry, it's okay. I'll call back again later. Do you know when he'll be back?" "Hopefully tomorrow evening," Rich said. "Can I at least tell him you called?" "I guess so," she said. "Tell him Kim from EMS will call him back." "Okay," Richard said, hoping his grin wouldn't be heard through the phone. "I'll tell him." FIVE HOURS LATER NEW MACROSS CITY Nicolai had debarked the plane carefully and casually. He watched the pilot go, and hung around in the air terminal for a while so he wouldn't seem to be following him; odds were, their paths would cross again before the trip back south, and Nicolai was trying to limit that as much as possible. Nicolai went to a fine restaurant and had supper, then went to the hotel where he had a suite reserved. He sat and relaxed for about an hour, until about eight-thirty, when he picked up the phone and dialed. "" he said in Russian, "" After that, he responded with a faint grunt of approval, a nod, and hung up the phone. He busied himself by watching television. In fifteen minutes, there was a knock on the door. Nicolai got up to open it and greeted the Russian man before him warmly. "" The other man ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair and smiled thinly. "" "" Nicolai held out a drink he'd poured while he was watching TV. "" Jason started out from the airport and took advantage of the evening to wander. He roamed around the lake, checking his 'old haunts', and surveying the changes that had occurred in the time he was away. The city had grown, of course; Macross residents were hardy souls, and experts at the task of rebuilding their world. Literally and figuratively, of course. The SDF-1 had more than enough materials to provide for building the city up again. Rebuilding the world was another thing. Despite the fact that the better part of a year had passed since Dolza's Rain, the world was still in critical condition. Most of it was wasteland, that which hadn't been spared due to topography or just blind luck. A strong rebuilding needed strong leaders. That had been the core of the speech told when the officers of the SDF-1 - Henry Gloval, Rick Hunter, Lisa Hayes, et al - had been promoted. Jason hadn't been there to hear it, but he'd seen the videos plenty of times. The strong leaders were there. The strong people under the strong leaders were there, too. Jason thought about what the man on the plane had said. Some people were cut out to save the world by counteracting the fighting; some were cut out to convince everyone not to fight in the first place. Which person was stronger, Jason wondered? Or, he asked himself, were there two different people after all? Cloran was gathered with his men (and women) outside of town, in the hills, discussing the outcome of the meetings, and what lay ahead. "" Bolar observed. "" someone shot back. "" "" a third suggested. "" That brought a rallying cheer from the assembled group. Cloran looked across to the mecha pilot, who nodded meekly before speaking up again. "" Another cheer rose up from the crowd. Cloran looked visibly chagrined, but couldn't resist the energy surging throughout the Zentraedi gathered there. He nodded firmly, and said, "" The squadron leaders' meeting was basically a gathering of commanders to update the lot on what was happening in their corners of the world. It took about five hours to get through the stories and recommendations, and then after another night in the city, Jason headed to the Prometheus in the morning to head home. "What's this?" Jason asked, nodding to the mecha he was approaching. "Your new Veritech," the mecha handler said proudly. "Like it?" "Are you kidding?" Jay said. He ran his hand over the ship - the paint matching his own ship's colors was already dry, not even tacky any more. "I just didn't know you could use it in an - " "I know," the handler cut him off. "That's the first thing everyone who's seen it has asked. Yes, it'll work in an atmosphere. There are natural lifting surfaces built into the fuselage of the FAST packs. If you want to see computer models, we have them." "What about the cannon?" The handler nodded to the twin plasma cannon mounted in place of the starboard-side missile pack. "Believe it or not, it's balanced perfectly. You're no test pilot, sir; everything has been tested and performs beyond spec." "In atmosphere," Jason said. "Yes, in atmosphere." Jason grinned as he looked it over. "So where do I sign?" The mecha handler offered up the clipboard and smiled. "For just the cost of a scribble, the VF-1S Strike can be yours, Lieutenant." Jason signed. "Strike, huh? Nice." He handed the clipboard back and said, "So I'm ready to go; anything else?" "Just make sure you read the owner's manual," the handler joked. "And have fun." "Oh, trust me. I don't think there's any problem with that." Jay taxiied the plane to the elevator, noticing a greater number of people than usual standing by and watching. (This must be a sight,) he realized. (It's not often a new Veritech gets rolled out.) "SDF-1 Control, this is Grey Lead, up and on the deck," he called out. "This is SDF-1 Control," Lisa Hayes responded. "Welcome back to the skies, Lieutenant. Hook up on cat 2 and prepare to launch." "Roger," he said, and followed the direction of the cat officer, rolling into position. He felt the gear compress as they hooked up the shuttle to his fighter's nosewheel. He was about to apply power as per normal procedures, when he received a call from the ground crews. "Lieutenant, I want to make sure they let you know, when you apply power for launch, make sure you're only putting in a third of what you normally would. Copy?" Jason blinked. (33% power for a full-on cat launch?) "Roger," he said, and only pushed it forward a nudge. Again he blinked as he felt the force pushing him into his seat, just as with the older ships at full power. The jet blast deflectors came up, and the cat officers did their usual dance. "Ready," Jason said, and saluted the cat officer. A thumbs up, and then it was launch time. (( Avril Lavigne "Anything But Ordinary" /Let Go/ )) Grey Leader took to the skies and went vertical. He asked for and received permission for a climb to flight level 600, and then pushed the throttles to the firewall. Climbing at a rate not seen since the days of the space shuttles, Jason watched the altimeter spiral upwards. Balancing on the very edge of blackout, he took the fighter as fast as it could go. (No more orbital launch packs,) he decided as he passed through 40,000 feet easily. This ship, with its FAST packs, would easily break orbit all on its own. In a few more seconds, he was clear of 60,000 feet. By the time he levelled out with a quarter-corkscrew, he was at 62,500 feet, but there was no-one at all at this level to be worried about. He almost felt like he could see the curvature of the earth from this height. Instructing the autopilot to maintain 60,000 feet, he concentrated on putting the plane through aerobatic rolls and turns at high speeds. Despite all the extra armor and bulk, the fighter was lightning-quick, defying physics and reality in how fast and agile it was. He took it through Guardian and Battloid once or twice, enjoying how smooth the controls and transformation were. The ship handled like a dream. (Now I LIVE!) he exulted, and let out a whoop of joy. Until he'd become a pilot, he'd never known the thrill of flight. Now, he never wanted to let it go. Finally settling down, he let the autopilot take over again, doing the calculations in his head. (At this speed, I'll have 20 minutes, then have to start my descent.) He watched the GPS for a moment, then, for kicks, tried to contact his home base, dialing into the proper radio frequency. "RDF New Albuquerque, this is Grey One, on radio check," he called. A few moments passed and then a scratchy transmission came through. "... Grey 1, RDF New Albuquerque, I hear you but you're broken up. Where are you? Over." Jay grinned. "I'm about fifty miles south of New Macross and about eleven miles straight up. Just thought I'd see how far I can reach on UHF." "Well, sir, you're doing pretty good if I can hear you from seventeen hundred miles away," came the response. "It'd be interesting to see how far you can get on HF." The high-frequency radio was of much greater range, and often reached clear around the world, bouncing off the upper atmosphere. Jason laughed. "I'll give it a check shortly," he said, "and get back to you. Expect me home in a while." "Roger," the controller answered. "Good flight, sir." Nicolai relaxed on the flight back to Albuquerque. Again, the flight was virtually empty, and this time Nicolai had the entire bulkhead row to himself. He took up one of the airphones and dialed, then greeted his bodyguard. "" he said. "" Viktor said with relief. "" "" Nicolai said. "" "" Viktor told him. "" "" Nicolai said, raising an eyebrow. "" Viktor chuckled. "" "" Jason was surprised to find the private communications link calling for his attention as he started his spiral descent into ABQ airspace. He opened the channel. "Hello?" "Hey, L.T.," Rich said. "You sound like you're close." "Yeah, in a manner of speaking," he answered, smiling. "I'm at flight level 470 and coming down, but I'm pretty much over the city now, or at least the area." "What the hell are you doing up so high?" "They must have mixed me up with someone else. They trusted me with the next generation of the Super." "Whaaaat??" Jason laughed. "Don't worry, I'll let you see it when I touch down." "Yeah, me and about 57 other people, I bet. You'll be the star of the show for at least the afternoon." "I hear you. Thanks for the warning... though you'll probably be blabbing it to everyone long before I get onto the tarmac." "Don't you trust me?" Rich joked. Then he said, "Hey, I got a phone message from you, and I figured I'd let you know in case you want to return it." "Is it urgent?" Jay asked, wondering why it couldn't wait until touchdown. "Depends on your perspective. It's from your friend at EMS." "What? Are you serious?" "Yeah. She called here yesterday looking for you. Said she'd call back." "Really," Jay said. "Yeah." "Interesting," Jason commented. There was a pause, then: "You got phone patch capabilities on this line?" Richard laughed heartily. "You read like a book, Lieutenant!" There was a click, then a long pause, then it started ringing. "EMS Dispatch," came a voice. "Good afternoon," Jason said. "Can you put me in touch with extension 32, please?" "Just a moment, sir," the dispatcher said, then it rang again and Kim was on. "EMS, paramedic Shea." Jason took a breath. "Hello, paramedic Shea, this is Lieutenant Low. I heard you were trying to get hold of me?" There was a sudden pause, a muffled sound like paper was being shuffled around, feet were coming off the desk, and a chair was tilting back upright. "Yes.. yes!" she said abruptly. "Are you on a radio?" "I'm on a phone patch, yes," Jason admitted. "I'm coming back into town right now. I expect to be on the ground in about 15 minutes." "Oh," she said. "Well, I don't know if I want to discuss this on the air. Where will you be around supper time?" "Knowing my partner, who is probably still eavesdropping on the line - " Jason grinned as there was a sudden, quiet click " - I'll still be showing off my new airplane to people he's rounding up right now. But I can probably break away at some point." "Well, there're some things I'd like to talk with you about," she said. "Had you made plans for supper?" "No," Jason admitted, continuing to spiral his way down towards the airfield. "Are you asking me to meet you for supper?" The tone from the woman at EMS was still businesslike, but had a hint of playfulness to it now. "I'm saying both of us will be hungry by then, and it makes sense to eat while we're taking care of our business. Sound fair to you?" Jay laughed. "If you put it that way, sure. Did you have a place in mind?" "Do you know where The Well is?" "Is that the place with the good Italian food, down by the park?" "That's the one. We can meet there if you like." "Deal. Six?" "I get off at six. Make it six-thirty; I'll have to take the train across the city." "I could - " Jay started, then cut himself off. (Don't push too hard! For all you know she just wants you to sign insurance papers for the truck.) "I'm sorry? I think you broke up there." "Sorry, disregard," Jay said, noticing his proximity to the airfield. "I gotta go land now. I'll talk to you at six-thirty." "All right, Lieutenant, thank you." He could all but hear her smile over the link. "Talk to you then." Jay sat there in surprise for a moment as the link closed, and then he switched trains of thought and got back to the task of settling in for final approach. As predicted, the new Veritech was a hit with all the staff at the base. By the time he parked the plane, a ring of people two and three deep were surrounding the mecha. Rich was among them, and as he ran up to the boarding ladder, it opened the floodgates for everyone to surge forward. Rich shouted up, "Man! Who'd you have to kiss to get this thing?!" Jay stood up and took off his helmet. "They just assigned it to me," he said. "And let me tell you, it MOVES." Everyone was looking over every inch of the ship, from the radome on back to the maneuvering jets on the armored tail. The ground crew had a hard time mounting the boarding ladder and hooking up the servicing equipment. Jason finally found his footing on the ladder and started to climb down; in a moment, two pilots climbed up the ladder and leaned over to look into the cockpit. "I need to try it out tomorrow!" Rich shouted to Jay over the commotion. "I mean, for a test flight. Surely you were told you need to let other pilots know what it's like to fly it!" Jay laughed. "Nice try, Rich!" he said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get changed and cleaned up." "Oh yeah! I forgot," Rich said, clapping his friend on the back. "You WERE listening in!" "Whatever do you mean?" Rich said innocently. Then he turned to the crowd out and shouted. "Hey! Make way! Move it! The man's got a hot date! Give us some room already!" He tried to wade through the crowd, dragging Jay along behind him. "It's not a friggin' date, you nut!" Jason countered. "And shut up!" Nicolai's luggage was whisked off the carousel by Viktor. Nicolai nodded and smiled, then turned to walk to the exit, Viktor following behind. "" Viktor said. "" Nicolai nodded. "" "" "" Viktor nodded to the driver, waiting in the car at the curb, as he popped the trunk so the luggage could be loaded. "" 6:23PM Jason walked into the restaurant and looked around at the tables, trying to spot the telltale plume of red hair. The restaurant was entirely full, and he couldn't tell if she was there or not. The hostess greeted him and, upon receiving his name, said his party hadn't arrived yet but a table was waiting for them. He let himself be led to the table, and when asked for his choice of drink, ordered a glass of water to start with. He didn't want to start off on the wrong foot by already having a beer in hand when Kim arrived. It didn't take long for her to show up. Jason knew he would be able to spot the fire-red hair anywhere. What caught him off guard was the fact she wasn't in her paramedic uniform. He couldn't help but stare as he sized up the woman walking towards him, with her hair down around her shoulders, which were covered by a green short-sleeved silk blouse. She wore a pair of dark slacks, and black leather, heeled boots. She smiled as she got to the table. "Hi. I'm glad you could make it," she said. Jason was suddenly very thankful he'd chosen a golf shirt and slacks for himself instead of his uniform, or jeans and a T-shirt. "Of course," he said, standing up and going around to pull out her chair. "I'm still indebted to you." "Oh, stop," she smiled, thanking him as she sat down. He went back around the table and sat down again, as she asked, "Have you ordered?" "Nooo," he said. "Only water." "Oh, do you not drink?" "I wanted to wait and see what was appropriate," he shrugged. She waved a hand dismissively. "Don't be so gallant or anything. I'm gonna have a beer and some baked spaghetti myself." Jason blinked and smiled. "Really." "I trust you like Italian, or you would have suggested another place?" "Italian's great," Jay said. "Actually I was thinking of spaghetti myself. Maybe not baked, though." Kim smiled again. "You heathen," she teased. Jason grinned, then said, "While we're waiting for the server, do you want to get business out of the way?" "Business?" "Yeah," Jay said. "I assume you wanted to sort something out about the PRU?" She stared blankly at him for a second, then laughed. "Your bosses and my bosses have taken care of that. City Claims and Insurance has got it now." Jason blinked and slowly smiled. "Oh, I see." Jeremy Shea parked his bike in an alley across from the restaurant and strode inside. He told the hostess his party was already in at a table and he was going to meet them - he'd be able to spot them easily. She bade him entry, and he walked in, standing on the low steps and looking down into the dining area. He blinked as he saw a flicker of red in the crowd. He watched for a moment longer, and saw his sister, just starting to dig into a steaming plate of food. He walked over, trying not to sprint, and acted like he was just passing by and saw her. He blinked and doubled back a little after passing the table. "Sis?" She looked up curiously. "Huh? Jer! What are you doing here?" "I thought you were going right home," he said. "I changed my mind," she answered, smiling. "Jason, this is my kid brother, Jeremy. Jeremy, this is - " "I know," Jeremy said, all but looking down his nose at Jason. "The pilot." He let the disdainful remark linger in the air a moment, then turned back to his sister. "Someone called for you. I told them to try back at seven when you were home." "Who was it?" she asked, putting a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth. "Sounded like someone from work," he shrugged. "I think it was important." Kim hmm'ed. "I don't think anyone was looking for me," she said. Jason leaned over in his chair to access his pocket. "Want to borrow my sat-phone?" "No!" Jeremy said, shaking his head. "They said they were at an undialable line. And they'd have to get hold of you by calling you." "Weird..." Kim blinked, then smiled again. "Well, they won't get me by seven, but maybe they'll call back after." She nodded to the third chair. "Will you join us?" Jeremy looked at Jason, who'd taken the moment to eat. Then he said, "I.. maybe, but I have to use the washroom first." "All right," Kim nodded. "Want us to order anything for you?" "Um... water. Water's good." Jeremy turned and headed for the washrooms. Jason watched him go. "Brother, hm?" "Oh, don't let his attitude bother you. He's that way around everyone. Well... everyone military," Kim admitted. "What's the matter?" "Mom and Dad died in the Rain. He figures more could've been done to prevent it.." "I'm sorry to hear that," Jay said solemnly. "As for the Rain, I can't honestly say. I missed the SDF-1." (Okay, so it's a half-truth.) "You did?" "Yeah. I was in Vegas on business and got... well, actually, I got trapped in the wreckage. I don't know how long I was there for before search teams found me." "That's amazing," she said, leaning on her folded hands, enraptured. "And what kind of business did you do?" "I was... well, interestingly enough, I was a 911 dispatcher before," he said, taking bits of his old life as fodder. "I was in Vegas at a convention." "You don't say! Maybe we do have more in common than we thought," she grinned. Jason felt his heart climb into his upper airway. "Yeah. Maybe," he agreed. Hunger got the better of the two, and they fell silent while they ate. After a few minutes, Kim observed, "Hm. He's not back yet." Jason thought for a second. "I'll go check on him." "Are you sure?" "Yeah," Jay smiled, and decided to go for broke. "Maybe if I get on his good side first, he'll accept me." Kim giggled and waved Jay off towards the washrooms. He stood up, smiled and bowed, and headed back to the small corridor. A couple of people were milling about in the short hallway that also housed the manager's office entry, the stairs to the basement, and the doors to the two washrooms. Jeremy was nowhere to be found. "Jeremy?" Jay said. "Are you in here? Your sister's worried..." Jason went into the washroom and found it, too, empty. He checked the stalls; the first three were empty and untouched. The last one had the toilet tank lid off, and wet duct tape lying on the floor. Jason studied it for a second before his head jerked up instinctively at a faint thudding sound from inside the restaurant. He knew what it was and turned to bolt for the dining room. Nicolai was just starting into his dinner at the table by the inside wall. He sipped at a scotch, then studied the lasagna dish set out before him. Sprinkling various seasonings on it, he said, "" Viktor opened his mouth to thank his boss for the compliments, but suddenly there was a sound like a balloon popping. Then three more. Viktor jerked up straight, with a look of shock on his face. Nicolai blinked and stared, even as Viktor looked down at his white shirt, now rapidly turning red. Then his body fell forward, knocking over the drinks and crashing into the veal parmigiana he'd ordered. Even as Viktor fell dead, Nicolai reflexively stood up and pushed back, hopping over his chair as it fell backward, and ran for cover amidst the screaming restaurant patrons. The crowded dining floor was hiding the shooter from Nicolai. Even though people were trying to surge this way and that, mainly towards the exit, no one was doing much moving at all. The upside of all this was, Nicolai was shielded as well. Or so he hoped. Jason was defying the crush of people, pushing through, climbing under, or over. "KIM!" he hollered over the screaming and commotion. She was standing near their table, trying not to be trampled, almost like she was treading water, swimming to get above the current. "Jason! Where's Jeremy?! I can't find him!" "I don't know," he said, finally reaching her. He grabbed her and turned to head for an opening in the crowd. "Let's try to find someplace safe." As they progressed, two more shots rang out. The throng of people screamed again, and they all pushed for the double front doors. A few seconds later, the two plate glass windows on either side of the doors gave way, and people started spilling out onto the street, like floodgates literally thrown open. Jay tried to go with the flow, but suddenly he had a tugging at his wrist. "Jason! Stop, he's hurt!" Jason turned and saw Nicolai Ivanov slumped in the corner, two holes in his olive-colored suit jacket. He seemed only partially conscious. "Shit! I know this guy!" Jason blurted out. He ran along behind Kim, trying to shield her and Nicolai from the rush of bodies. Kim pulled a small pack off her belt, ripping the Velcro apart to lay the pack out flat and reveal a miniature first aid kit. "Sir, stay still! I'm going to help you!" she urged. "Lieutenant," Nicolai managed, wincing through the pain. "Please check.." He nodded towards the table nearby. A man was lying on the ground, apparently knocked over by the rush of people. The crowd was mostly gone; Jason scrambled over on all fours and lay under the table on his belly as he rolled the man onto his back. His eyes were open and his shirt and suit jacket soaked with blood. Still, he checked for a pulse. A moment later, he crawled his way back to Nicolai and Kim. "I'm sorry, sir," Jason said. Nicolai winced and nodded. He looked down at Kim's handiwork. In just a few seconds, she'd managed to slap some gauze bandages over the bullet hole in his shoulder, and was working on the one in his side. He reached down to her pack, and took the medical tape. With his free hand and his teeth, he started stripping off lengths of tape. "I'll get to that in a second, sir," she said, focusing intently on the wound in his side. "Let me - " "Thank you, but no," Nicolai said, applying the tape to the gauze on his shoulder, to fix it in place. "You have done an admirable job, but I cannot stay here. Please just patch me up, and I promise I will seek help later." Kim looked up at him and tried to read his expression. To her surprise, through the pain, she saw a friendly smile. "And," Nicolai whispered to her, faintly nodding to Jason, "Keep track of the Lieutenant. He is a good man." Nicolai started cutting tape for his side wound, but Kim blinked and took the roll from him, quickly fashioning enough strips to patch the gauze firmly in place. "Promise me you're going to get to the hospital." "I will seek help," he reiterated. "I just cannot remain here, and neither should you. My attacker could still be nearby." Jason came closer. He said, "What can I do to help?" Nicolai spoke up. "Head outside and ensure there is a clear path to the parking garage across the street. Make sure there are no gunmen in hiding." "All right," he nodded, and headed out the window. He ran across the street, still clogged with people, and found the parking garage's entryway, running down into it. During the sprint, he'd "cleared" the nearby rooftops, scanned up and down the street and glanced into the two nearby alleys. It wasn't the same as having an entire troop sweep the area, or even doing a simple scan with a Veritech's sensor suite, but it would have to do. There were a few dozen cars in the two-level parking lot. A lot of people were departing, but none of them seemed to be hostile or lurking around. A few moments later, Kim arrived, helping the wounded Russian into the garage. He gestured to a black Mercedes limousine and she led him there, while Jason ran up to it to meet them. "You're going to try to drive?" Jay asked. "I will be fine," Nicolai insisted, a little strongly; apparently he'd gone over the issue with Kim repeatedly already. "I will not accept offers to drive me, nor to call me an ambulance. I have my own way to go, and frankly, so do you two. You need to get to safety as much as I. Do you hear me, Lieutenant?" "All right," Jason said reluctantly. "Miss?" Kim nodded. "I hear you," she said. Nicolai lowered himself into the seat and looked a little relaxed as the cushions supported him. "Aaah. Better." He pulled out the key and started the car. Reaching out with his good hand, across his body, to close the door, he said, "Thank you, my friends, and farewell. We WILL meet again." With that, he put the car in gear and drove off. Jason walked with Kim towards her apartment; she naturally wanted to locate her brother. They'd checked the entire area around the restaurant, as the people thinned out and went away, and there was no sign of Jeremy. "You okay?" he asked. She nodded. "I've been through that kind of thing before," she told him in a subdued tone. "Nothing new. Mostly." Jay pulled out his satellite phone and passed it to her silently. She thanked him and took it, dialing her home number. She was pleasantly surprised at the offer. (I didn't even have to say anything..) She pressed her hand to her ear to better hear the phone held to the other side of her head. "Jeremy?!" she exclaimed. "How - when did you get home? ... Are you all right? ... What happened in there, do you know? ... Yeah, we've been looking all over for you! ... Jason and I. ... Oh, don't start with that right now! ... I'm just glad you're all right. We'll be home in a bit, okay? ... Bye." Kim sighed, handing the phone back after she shut it off. "Thanks," she said. "Problems?" "Just the usual," she said with an air of defeat. "He's so indifferent. He said he didn't hang around 'cause he knew I'd look at home first. I don't know why he didn't check to see if WE were safe." After a pause, she added, "Maybe that's the answer. 'We'." "I see," Jason said quietly, nodding. "I just wish he'd stop blaming every soldier he sees for Mom and Dad. I mean, it's not like you were the cause of it, y'know?" Jason shrugged. "Some people take more time to recover from that kind of thing than others. Believe me, lots of people are bitter about what happened." Kim let the silence reign for a moment, then sighed again. "I'm sorry for how tonight turned out." "Hey, it's not your fault. Don't be sorry." Kim nodded. "So, how do you know that guy, anyway?" "Nicolai?" Jason shrugged yet again. "'Know' is maybe a little too strong a word. We just happened to be on the same plane when I went to Macross the other day." "Oh," said Kim. "He seemed to know a bunch about you.." "What do you mean?" "Well, he said you were a good guy, and someone I should keep my eye on." "Well, we did talk for most of the flight up there; that's probably what that was about," Jason suggested. Jason's phone emitted a shrill chirp, and he answered it. "Lieutenant Low here." Rich's voice filled Jason's ear. "Where are you?" "Fifth and Bushwood," Jason said. "What's the problem?" "Did you guys go to that restaurant?" "Yeah," Jason nodded. "I guess you heard about all that, did you?" "Witnesses put you at the scene. The CO wants to talk to you pronto." "He's still there? At this hour?" "Yeah. Listen, why don't you just get in here. This sounds pretty serious." "Okay, I'm on my way. Start the coffee, I'll be bringing a visitor." "Gotcha, boss." Jason hung up the phone and turned to Kim. "Want to go for a walk? It might take a few minutes, though, by the sounds of it." She smiled a little sheepishly. "Since you already told them I'd be there, I guess I can't refuse, can I?" "Sure you can," Jason smiled. "It'd just make me look like an ass, that's all." "Oh stop it," she laughed. Then added, "This is turning into one hell of a first date." Jason guided her back towards a route heading to the base. Finally, after a long, long pause, he ventured, "So.. it's official, then?" She gave one of her already-ubiquitous enigmatic smiles. "You tell me," she responded, taking hold of his arm at the elbow. Cloran led several of his Micronized colleagues to Nicolai's villa-like residence on the edge of town. As they arrived, a limousine was pulling up, and the humans were crowding around it to support Nicolai as he spilled from the driver's seat. "What happened?" several people asked, some in Russian, some in English, and some in Zentraedi (to Cloran). "We were ambushed at dinner," Nicolai said, resting against the fender of the car. "Viktor is dead. He protected me." "Was it the same..?" one of Nicolai's lieutenants asked. "I do not know," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't see. The place was crowded so that it was impossible to tell. Luckily that worked to my advantage as well. But for poor Viktor..." "This is an outrage!" one of Cloran's men shouted in English. "An attack on all of us - " "No," Nicolai forced out, wincing as he turned and stood as tall as he could will himself to. "This, my friends, is not against you; it does not concern you. It is about my own actions and people that disagree with them. It is something for my own men to deal with." "We are all your own men - " a Zentraedi spoke up. "He killed Zentraedi!" Bolar cut in. "At the original meeting. He must be punish - " "And he will be," Nicolai said loudly. "However. This was not against the Zentraedi. Do not look for an excuse to vent your anger, gentlemen. You will find much to do later. Do not give the authorities an excuse to detain and discipline you. Let my human soldiers handle this." There was a disgruntled murmur throughout the band of Zentraedi, until Cloran piped up. "He is right," he said. "We must trust our allies." Nicolai nodded with a faint smile to his Zentraedi counterpart. Then, wincing as he turned, he said to his human lieutenants, "Take me to Koshi. He will be able to help me." As the men were helping Nicolai into the back of the car, he called out to Cloran. "You are free to stay here as long as you wish. My home is your home." Bolar came to Cloran's side as the Mercedes backed out. "" he said incredulously to his commander. "" Cloran sharply fixed his lieutenant with a gaze. "" He turned to two of the Zentraedi standing there. "" he ordered. "" Richard sat on a stuffed chair in the lounge, occasionally nursing a coffee which otherwise sat on the low table before him. To his right, the commander's office was light brightly, with the old man behind his desk and Jason sitting attentively in front of it, delivering his recounting of the night's events. Across from Richard sat a young lady also drinking a coffee, or more precisely, gripping it worriedly with both hands as she stared into it. "Don't worry," Rich said. "This is no big deal. Pre-emptive damage control, getting the Lieutenant's story before anyone else can." Kim looked up, then nodded towards the CO's door. "Is that all? No chewing out for leaving?" "Maybe. But since you both did everything you could before you left, I don't see how they can." Kim looked down again. "All I did was bandage the guy up. He refused anything further." "He must be a big deal. As soon as someone identified the guy you were seen helping out, this place went absolutely bonkers." "Come to think of it," she mused, "There did seem to be something mysterious about him." She made an attempt to change the subject. "You're a pilot too?" "Yeah," Rich smiled. "Me and Jay are partners." "Is he usually this... silly about things? He won't stop apologizing for my truck. I mean, that sort of thing happens a lot, doesn't it?... What with all these mecha stomping around places all the time." Rich chuckled. "Well, it's the first time I've witnessed it. Is there anything in there that was irreplaceable?" Kim shook her head. "Everything that was in there that was EMS's was insured. And all that was my personal gear, we salvaged outta the cab." Rich smiled. "That's good to hear. And of course that you came out without a scratch. That would've screwed him up even more than he is now." Kim blinked. "I beg your pardon?" Richard smirked and said, "Ma'am, I think the Lieutenant has fallen for - " The CO's office door opened. Richard shot to his feet, followed by Kim. Jason left the office, and the commander said, "Miss Shea? If I may see you for a few moments, please." She nodded and walked to the door. As she and Jason passed, he murmured, "It'll be okay." The door closed behind her as Jason turned to watch it. Rich handed him a coffee momentarily, and he sat down in the chair Kim had vacated, Rich taking the one he'd been in before as well. "So what's up?" he asked Jay. Jason sipped the coffee, then shook his head. "They say need-to-know. But whoever he is, he threw a huge red flag. Imagine if I'd actually mentioned him in a report." Rich reached over and patted his friend's shoulder. "I see lots of long-distance patrols in our future, master." Jason laughed humorlessly. "Don't I believe it." Indeed, to keep them out of town for a while until everything settled down, until this Ivanov fellow was out of sight again, the RDF would surely task Jason - and his wingman, by association - to be out and working as often as possible. Kim exited the office just then, and the two men stood as the Commander left the smaller room as well. "Sir," Jason said. "I'm sorry for keeping you here so late." The CO waved a hand dismissively. "It wasn't your fault. Just a chance encounter," he said. "I'd appreciate it if you could try to see it coming next time, though. I don't enjoy being on the end of frantic conference calls where I don't get told anything but to make sure my squadron leader and his girlfriend are discreet about their meetings with people on the street." Kim blushed lightly as she walked over to the chair, hiding her face from the CO. Jason would have blushed if he wasn't standing at attention. "Yes, sir," he said. "Frankly, I need to discuss things with my own bosses, so you two are on standby until further notice. Miss Shea, if you can try to keep them out of trouble, I'd be in your debt." Kim smiled a little. "Um, yes sir; I'll try." "Thank you." He closed his office door behind him, after shutting off the lights, and said, "Goodnight, then." Jay and Rich stereoed, "Goodnight, sir." Kim followed the two soldiers out of the base. "What now?" Rich asked. "Well, Mr. Sirois, I think it would be wise if you carried on with whatever you were up to before this all happened," Jay said, "and we, the same." "Oho," Rich laughed. "Received and understood, sir. Good luck and good hunting!" He dashed away before he could get swatted. Kim giggled. "I see you have as much fun as you can." "We try. It breaks up the depression of dealing with the state of the world right now." Kim nodded slowly. "Do you think the Earth will ever forgive us?" she asked. Jay hmm'ed. "You know, I hear more and more people these days using those exact words," he said. "My answer is, I hope so, eventually." They continued to walk along. Kim said, "Where did you live before?" "Before?" he asked, then nodded as he realized her meaning. "A small town in Ontario, Canada." Kim let out an 'ohh' of understanding. "Was it near..?" Again it took Jason a moment to figure out what she meant. Then he nodded. "Just inside the blast zone," he responded. He envisioned the SDF-1 hovering over Toronto, doing its best to ward off the Zentraedi attack, when the newly erected barrier system decided to let go... "How about you?" he finally said, distracting himself from the vision. "Buffalo," she answered. Jay smiled. "Just across the lake. I THOUGHT I caught a bit of the lingering accent." "Hey!.." she said, semi-playfully. "I don't got no accent." "Sure," Jay laughed. "And I don't either, right?" Rich decided to take a walk to enjoy the night air, taking advantage of the clear skies while they still existed. If the Rain had done one thing to the world besides the obvious, it had turned the climate on its end. Maybe it was the debris in the air, which even now still fell to Earth from time to time, or treated the population to a beautiful shooting star show. For whatever reason, it precipitated a lot more often, even in the more southern regions like New Albuquerque. So, while the showers stayed away, everyone got out to enjoy themselves. He walked to a convenience store, buying a sports drink and a bag of chips. Waiting in line to pay, Rich saw the two Zentraedi ahead of him gathering as many newspapers as they could carry. (Poor souls,) he told himself. (This place has turned them into news junkies.) As he got closer to the counter, and therefore the Zentraedi buying up all the papers, Rich blinked. Being multilingual was useful, and often had an unintended side effect: A lot of people, still in this day and age, didn't even think of the possibility that those around them could understand other languages. "" one Zentraedi said to the other in a hushed tone. "" the other responded with a nod. "" They went on some more, about pledging allegiance to their leader, and so on; but the part Richard had found most interesting had already gone past. He casually walked up to the counter, after waiting for the Zentraedi to make their purchase. Watching the two men lug out all the newspapers, he commented, "They must really like the news." The shopkeeper shrugged. "I never know what those kind are saying," he said, letting some of his prejudice show through in his tone. "Could be plotting to rob me for all I know." "Trust me," Richard said, eyeing the men as they headed out and walked up the street, "They have other things on their minds." Rich paid for his purchases, snatching up a paper at the last second, to see if he could figure out what the Zentraedi were so interested in. He sat at a bench in a park across from the store, and started reading. The story about the shootout in the restaurant was front and center. (Is this something the Zentraedi had a hand in?) Rich wondered. He noticed the main photo was covered up partially with a caption box, and realized it was covering up the area where Kim, Jason, and Ivanov had been seen on the TV/video version. "Talk about a literal cover-up," he murmured to himself. Scanning the photo, he blinked and brought it closer to his face, pushing his glasses up out of the way to inspect the picture. He then downed his drink and stuffed it and the half-eaten bag of chips in a trash can, rolling up the newspaper and tucking it under his arm before jogging in the direction of the restaurant. Two more Zentraedi arrived as the clock was striking eleven. Cloran looked up. "" he asked. "" one said. He handed over one of the many copies he had in his hands. "" Cloran said, briefly going over the story. "" the soldier explained. "" Cloran looked up. "" "" The soldier pointed to a section of the main photo. Cloran squinted, and then his eyes narrowed in anger. "" Cloran snapped. "" the soldier countered. "" "" the Zentraedi leader said, tossing the paper on the table. "" "" the soldier said, thumping a fist to his chest in salute before disappearing out the door. Rich's forward progress was hampered by the barrier tape surrounding the incident. He couldn't get within about half a block of the restaurant - at least, not on the ground. The investigation was progressing, and although he could use his military ID to get in, it would raise questions and rouse the commanding officer, causing no end to hassles. Instead, he found his way into the building up the street and climbed the stairs to the roof. Luckily most of the people in the apartment block were either in bed, or still watching the scene below from their balconies. The roof door was unlocked, and Richard stepped out onto the top of the building and went to the street side, looking down over four stories onto the scene below. At the mouth of the alley just up the street from the restaurant was the mark Richard was looking for. Burned onto the pavement was a half-circle of black rubber, in about a five-foot radius. Just enough room for the average motorcyclist to spin his bike around and take off. (You're onto something here,) Richard told himself. (But what?) Jason said, "I still think I should be the one walking YOU home." "Oh, don't get all chivalrous on me," Kim laughed. "I practically own these streets. As much as you do." "Fair enough," Jason grinned. They were approaching the barracks, and just about ready to call it a night. "You sure you won't come in?" "It's been a hectic night," she shook her head. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather get back home, make sure my brother's okay, and get some rest. I work tomorrow." "Okay," Jay said. He shrugged. "I don't, as you know, so maybe I'll stop by later." "Just make sure it's not with a broken bone or an injury." "Why?" he smiled. "You've seen me at work, so shouldn't I get to see you at work? To return the favor." She laughed and said, "But that'd mean I'd have to crush your Veritech flat. And I don't think either of us want that to happen." She stopped and looked at him with a smile. "So I guess I'll see you around?" "Sure," he nodded. With that, they parted ways. Jason watched her depart, not at all upset about not getting a goodnight kiss. After all, it was only the first date, and it was normal for things to start off slowly.. After she disappeared up the street, Jason turned and walked into the base housing, climbing up the stairs to his room and keying it open. He set his shoes by the door and headed towards bed, when he noticed the phone message indicator blinking. He reached over and tapped the button as he climbed up into the bed, fixed in place above the desk, bunk-bed style, in the small quarters. "Jay?" Rich's voice came. "Did you turn your satphone off? I need to talk with you, man. I found something.. no, I guess it can wait until morning. Don't sweat it. I'll come talk to you in daylight. Have a good night, friend." Jason let the phone click off and rolled over, shutting his eyes. Nicolai lay on the table, face down, as if receiving a massage. The only thing the man he knew only as Koshi was working over, though, was the bullet fragment still in his shoulder. "I'm sorry, old friend," the Japanese man said. "I have stopped the bleeding, but I think the culprit wants to stay." "Then it can keep the one from Grozny company," Nicolai grunted. "Thank you anyway." Koshi nodded. "I can sew it up, of course." He turned to get a medical kit from the shelves. Nicolai looked to his colleagues waiting at the other end of the room. "What are the Zentraedi doing?" he asked the two men. "The last we heard, gathering newsprint to see if they can identify the shooter," one responded. "They seem hell-bent on revenge." Nicolai sighed. "" he murmured. "See to it they don't get too far without us. We'll try to sort it out in the morning, providing no damage has been done." "Yes, sir." As Koshi started cleansing and suturing Nicolai's wound, the colonel said, "And send a bottle of our best directly to the home of one Lieutenant Jason Low. I owe him." Jay awoke to the phone's twittering. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he reached down under the bed and fumbled for the receiver lying on the desk, finally gathering it up and holding it to his ear. "What time is it," he said bluntly. "Lieutenant?" Kim said worriedly. "I'm sorry. I woke you up." Jason sat up, forgetting where he was. He got reminded promptly when his skull hit the roof joist. "OW! Shit," he cursed, collapsing back onto the bed. "Lieutenant?" Kim repeated. "Yeah, I'm here," he said, rubbing his head. He peeked at the drapes; they were holding the sunlight out. "What time is it?" he repeated. "It's almost seven-thirty," she said. "I'm sorry. But Jeremy's gone." "What?" "He was supposed to give me a ride to work this morning," Kim said. "I don't know when he left, but he hasn't been around since I got up an hour ago." "I'll be over in a few minutes," Jason said, sliding down off the bed. "I'll get you into work, and I'll go look for him." "Thanks," she said reluctantly. "I know you don't have to do that." "Sure I do. Now get ready; I'll be there in ten minutes." She gave her thanks once again, and hung up. Jason did as well, and hadn't taken three steps towards the shower when the phone rang again. (Maybe she thought of a place to start looking, or maybe he just pulled up,) he said to himself as he picked up the phone. "Yeah?" "Jay," came the voice. It was Richard. "Rich," Jason said. "I got your message. I just got up." "Cool. Let's go have breakfast," Richard said. "I really have to discuss something with you." "I've got - " Jason began. He decided not to mention Kim, for fears Rich would rib him about the girl again, despite the fact Richard sounded as serious as a heart attack at the moment. "I've got a quick errand to run. I'll meet you at McDonald's in half an hour, though?" "Deal," Rich said, and the phone was hung up abruptly. Jason stared at the receiver a moment, puzzled at his friend's abruptness, then shook his head and headed for the shower again. Kim's scent still lingered in the car, even as Jason pulled up at the golden arches. Richard was at a patio table out front. "Hi," Jason said. "Sorry for not being an early riser like the rest of you. I guess I figured since I'm off duty, I didn't have to - " "Look at this," Richard said, pushing a newspaper over along with the apple juice and Sausage McMuffin. Jason looked down and read the story; it was the special edition from the night before, about the gunfight at the restaurant. "Rich, man," Jay said. "I was THERE." He started to unwrap the breakfast sandwich. "Then you saw this," Richard said, leaning forward and tapping the far corner of the main image. Jason leaned closer and studied where Rich's finger rested, blinking and squinting, then blinking again, eyes widening. "I've seen that before - " he began. "Yeah," Rich nodded, picking his finger up off the image of the black half-circle of rubber scorched into the pavement. "Know where? At the last shooting." "Okay..." Jason said, knowing Rich had more to it than just a coincidence, but not liking what he thought it was. "Your girlfriend knows someone with a bike that could make that kind of mark," Richard said. (I hate it when I'm right.) "Wait a second - how do you know that?" "Well, she and I were only talking for about an hour when you were in with the CO last night," Rich pointed out. Jason paused, then shrugged. "Okay. So?" he asked. "Probably three thousand bikes in this town." "How many of them were at both killings?" Richard said. "Okay.. okay." Jason sighed. "I get what you're getting at. Just let me.. let me tackle it myself. Okay?" "No way," Rich shook his head. "No offense, but you're too wrapped up in this already. No way I'm not tagging along." Jason sighed again. He said, "There's a problem. He's gone missing." "Really," Rich said flatly, as if he wasn't surprised one bit. "Got any ideas?" Jason said almost defeatedly. Richard thought for a moment. "What does he do? I got the impression he doesn't have a job or anything." "I don't know. I think you're right on that. He doesn't do a lot except bitch and moan about the Force - " The two men looked at one another. "Better tell the CO," Rich nodded, standing up at the same time as his partner. Cloran and Bolar went away from the villa in the early morning hours. They stayed as inconspicuous as possible, wandering this way and that, giving themselves as much time as possible to get to their destination. The goal was a building on the outskirts not far from Nicolai's home, just on the edge of the industrial sector. Nicolai had told them over the night that it was his, part of his business dealings, and theirs to use for their own business dealings, so to speak. He probably wasn't aware of what the Zentraedi had planned, though. As they entered the warehouse and inspected it, Bolar said, "" Cloran nodded firmly. "" "" "" He surveyed the nearly-empty building, save for a few forklifts and stacked pallets. "" Bolar observed. "" "" Cloran said distantly, again nodding. They both turned as they heard the sounds of an engine, then silence. Momentarily, the door they'd used to enter opened. Bolar said, "It's about time," folding his arms before him. Jeremy Shea slipped inside and shut the door, pausing while his eyes refocused in the near-darkness. "I'm early." "You'll be 'late' if you don't show us some respect," Bolar countered. "Stand before us." Cloran watched as the Micronian came forward and stood not-so-boldly in front of him. "What did you think you were doing?" Cloran snapped. "My job," Jeremy shot back. "I got in, got the gun, and did the job. Did better than you lazy-asses were - " "You made your presence far too conspicuous," Cloran said, throwing the newspaper at Jeremy. Pages fluttered all about him, and as if planned that way, the front page with the main photo of the restaurant scene fell squarely at his feet. "Did you stop to think why we stashed the weapon where we did?" Bolar cut in. "The purpose was to wait until he was in the washroom, where he could be abducted quickly and silently. Not killed in a room full of witnesses." "You would make a fair Zentraedi," Cloran added. "However, it is a Micronian I need. Not a Zentraedi." "Look," Jeremy pleaded his case. "I know you didn't want me at the first meeting. But I was trying to show you I could - " "Silence!" Cloran thundered. He glared at the Micronian. "We need to infiltrate the Micronian's army before we can act! Taking him out alone will not fulfill our goals. The destruction of an entire element of forces is the message we have to send! I will accept nothing less, and I will accept no further interference. Any more actions you take must be personally approved by me. Is that understood?" Jeremy glared back, but only briefly; Cloran had obviously intimidated him. He turned away and nodded, murmuring a yes. "Good," said Cloran. He turned and gestured towards the small office set into the far side of the warehouse. "Let us sit and discuss things, then." Kim was happy to be back on the street, even if it meant riding in a beat-up, twenty-year-old Jeep with no mobile computer and no radio. It had a conventional gas engine, and even that was as close to its last legs as it could be without being put out of service. Still, it rolled and it carried medical supplies, and that was enough for the local government. Kim was one of those people who enjoyed driving, even in an urban setting. She drove randomly around the city, getting a feel for the 'new' truck, enjoying the warm weather, and seeing how much had changed in the few days she'd been off. Soon, she decided, she'd stop for a bite to - She braked sharply and blinked, then turned into the alley across the street and stared. Parked on the sidewalk there was a bright yellow motorcycle, one she knew all too well, having edged past it in her apartment foyer every day. She parked the truck and got out, walking over to the bike. No one seemed to be around. Even the streets in this area were quiet; as a storage area for the fledgling industrial complex, the region wasn't used much yet. She put her hand down to the engine carefully and brought it back quickly when she nearly burned her fingertips. "Jer?" she whispered, looking around again. She startled as the sound of a creak echoed across the street. She spun and found herself watching a door on a warehouse flopping slightly in the wind. Kim went back to the truck to retrieve her portable radio and flashlight, then ventured across the road. The Zentraedi foreman picked up a beam and carried it across the yard, handing it to a subordinate who set it in place for the superstructure of another new building. He enjoyed doing work, which seemed to frustrate his Human counterparts to no end. A foreman is supposed to watch and order people around, they told him. Let the others do the work. But if he helped out, the work would be that small fraction of a percent easier, he would reply. And he didn't mind. The Humans didn't understand, he decided. A Zentraedi had to do something with his hands in order to feel productive. The once-warrior race were doers, not thinkers. No, the humans understood that about as much as the foreman understood why he was teased so much about his name. (Maybe Slait means something funny in English,) he mused, but let it pass without so much as another thought. He was working, and so were his subordinates, and that was good. He started to detect murmurs and gestures from his assigned group of workers, and followed their gazes to where two Earth mecha - one green-and-white, and one black-and-yellow - were landing in Battloid mode a few steps away. The green-and-white one strode up to him, recognizing the uniform of the foreman. "" came the voice over the loudspeaker. Slait nodded. "I speak English," he said. "And I am the foreman - " "I know, sir," the pilot cut in, nodding his mecha's head. "I need to ask you to take a headcount of your crew." Nicolai gathered his men together in the living room of the main house of the villa. The eleven men showed looks of concern, but still, devotion to their leader. "" he said, his arm in a sling, "" The three-letter acronym brought a murmur through the group. "" someone said with disbelief. "" Nicolai said firmly. He waited and listened to the murmurs in Russian: The old man wasn't kidding, It IS time to play our hand, and so on. He let this continue for a few moments, then spoke up once more. "" he declared. The men quietened down and listened to their leader again. He said, "" After a pause, Nicolai nodded and spoke once more. "" Kim slipped inside, leaving the door ajar so nothing would appear different to anyone passing by the doorway. She turned the portable radio down as far as it would go, then stuffed it in a pocket to muffle the sound further if a signal came across. Covering the flashlight with a hand, she clicked it on to test it, and it worked. The warehouse was mostly dark inside, only half-a-dozen fluorescent tubes lit out of the dozens set into the ceiling. In the faint light, Kim could see a forklift parked near some pallets stacked somewhat neatly. It appeared the building was either not in use yet or had just been cleaned out. (Great,) she said to herself, rolling her eyes slightly. (How much more stereotypical can you get?) She looked across the empty room and saw several small offices set into the far wall. In one, the light was on, and it spilled out of the doorway and beyond. (Jer, you better not be involved in anything,) she silently wished as she crept closer to the offices. The Veritechs stayed as out of sight as possible while the foreman counted for them. "Seventeen," he declared, looking puzzled. "And how many should you have?" Rich asked. "Eleven," Slait said, turning to the mecha. "Should I confront the others - " "No," Jason cut in. "Don't do anything overt right now. We think these men are planning an attack on the city." Slait's chest puffed up and his voice held a hint of a trace of hope, hope that he'd be able to put his REAL skills to use again. "We will defend this place," he promised. "I know," Jay said. "With luck, though, you won't have to go that far. Let me think about this for a second." Nicolai thought long and hard about what his involvement in the operation should be. In the end, he decided he would go. Odds are some of the participants would need a familiar face to focus on, and get an explanation from. "" he declared, and was provided with a pistol swiftly, which he tucked into an inside pocket. He looked over the men who were prepared to go into battle, armed to the teeth and ready for anything that came their way. His mind drifted back a decade or two, when he would have led a similar group in a column of tanks against a formidable foe. He briefly longed for the feeling of the wind in his hair again, perched in the raised officer's seat of his armor as he led them into battle. He only allowed the reverie for a moment. "" he said, "" He gestured to the cars parked in the driveway. "" The men climbed into the autos, four to a car. Nicolai took his place in the rear seat of the third and final car, and when the doors were all closed, said, "" Richard said. Kim flinched when the gunshot went off, but when she found herself unhurt, she kept running. Part of her wanted to go back and rescue Jeremy from whatever he was tangled up in, but part of her rationalized that it might have even been him that had tried to shoot her in the back. Consciously, she told herself she'd get back to the jeep, call for help, and try to sort things out from there. She burst through the door of the warehouse and into the street, nearly running headlong into the side of a black car that was just screeching to a halt before her. The back door opened in a flash, and hands reached out to pull her inside, using her momentum to the puller's advantage. "(Get in!)" a voice said. The accent was unmistakable. She found herself sprawled across the laps of two men - one with an older Eastern Bloc assault rifle pointed out one window, and the other man was Nicolai Ivanov, holding a handgun and pulling the door shut behind Kim. "My brother - !" she blurted out, rolling off them onto the floor of the limo. Nicolai nodded, fixing his sights on the door of the warehouse, steadying his aim on the windowsill of the car door. "I know," he said flatly. "Trust me." Moments later, the door slammed open again. Nicolai pulled the trigger twice, putting two bullets in the cement wall beside Cloran's head. The Zentraedi shot wildly back, his rounds ricocheting off the armored limousine. He ran right, and Bolar sprinted right behind him. Third out the door was Jeremy, chasing them, but a burst of fire from the front seat passenger's assault rifle stopped him in his tracks. "Get down!" Nicolai ordered, and the young human flattened himself to the earth, trembling. Nicolai and the man in the front seat got out of the car, even as the other cars reversed to chase the Zentraedi men. Nicolai let his lieutenant stand over Jeremy and restrain him in tie-wrap handcuffs, watching the others go after the extraterrestrials. Nicolai looked at Kim, picking herself up off the floor of the car, staring in disbelief at her brother in restraints on the ground. The Russian nodded to the radio sticking out of her pocket. "Does that have the civil defense frequency on it?" he asked. She looked down at the radio, pulled it out of her pocket, and nodded. "Channel 16," she said. Nicolai took it, first saying, "He will be all right," and gesturing to Jeremy. Then he twisted the channel knob to the end, and keyed the mike. "All units on this channel, this is Echo 1. One in custody, but two others are heading for the other warehouses. Echo team is in pursuit." Jason looked up from the job of securing the rebel full-size Zentraedi. "That's him," he observed. "Go ahead," Rich said. "Head 'em off at the pass, boss." One of the rebels tried to roll over. "" he hissed in Zentraedi. "" "The what?" Rich said, at the same time as Jason. "What's that word?" "It means 'Stinger' in English," Slait said, stepping forward. "The Zentraedi often use it to describe an unstoppable mecha." The two fighter pilots looked at each other through the optics of their respective battloids. "And he's using it in plural?" "Yes," Slait answered Jason. "I think maybe you both should go. We can handle these ones." Jason nodded his Veritech's head and said on the radio, "Echo one, this is Grey one. We're on the way." (( Stabbing Westward "Save Yourself" /Darkest Days/ )) Kim finally climbed out of the car and stood over her brother. "Jer," she said in a choked gasp. He looked up at her from where he was sitting on the ground, hands bound behind his back; then he looked away. "Look at me!" she demanded, and he turned his head up to face her again. "What did you think you were doing?" she finally blurted out, at a loss for anything else to ask. "The right thing," he murmured, hanging his head. Kim tried to protest again, but Nicolai came over, alternately talking into and listening to the radio. He ushered Kim towards the car, as his lieutenants picked up Jeremy and put him into the back seat. "Get in," Nicolai said. "We will be safe inside." "Safe from what - " Kim started to ask, just as a deafening roar shook the area. The roof came off another warehouse nearby, and two strange-looking mecha burst out into the skies. They appeared to be conglomerates of several kinds of mecha, all cobbled together into a working unit. They had guns upon guns, and they started firing even as the car started moving away from the warehouse. "They're firing on the limo!" Rich shouted. "Distract them!" Jay ordered, shifting to Gerwalk mode and flying into a protection position to cover the car's escape. It wasn't at all lost on Jason and Rich both that the car had a couple of extra passengers. Upon entering the area, Rich had noticed both the bike and the medic unit, and pointed them both out to his commander. The thought weighed heavily on Jay's mind as he shadowed the car, letting the armor of the Strike Veritech take the brunt of the damage from the Stingers. Richard narrated for his friend, as he too fired on them. He was trying to irritate the Stingers enough to make them break off the chase and come after him. While he was doing that, he described the mecha: "They're based on Female Power Armor, but they have some extra guns. I see cannons from a Tomahawk and a head unit from an A-type Veritech. We're also looking at a.. it's carrying a gunpod in its hand. Where did they get all this stuff?" "I don't know," Jason said urgently. "But let's deal with that later!" He was hoping the car's driver would find a tunnel, or a parking garage or something else to hide in - and hoping the Stingers would follow the Veritechs and not the car. "Roger," Rich said with a smile. "I'll put it on my to-do list to ask them." The car deked this way and that, though a Mercedes, despite its quality, was no match for the Zentraedi Female Power Armor's thruster packs. The only thing keeping the Stingers from overtaking and crushing the car was the pair of Veritechs interfering. Kim, in the back seat, peered out the back window at the fighters. "Jay!" she called out, despite the fact he wouldn't hear her. Nicolai tried to push her head back down to safety, as he himself ducked. The handgun, and even the assault rifles, were long abandoned, being all but a joke against heavy mecha. "Stay down," Nicolai urged. "Let him do his job." Kim huddled on the back seat, partly covered by Nicolai, and in turn, partly covering her brother, still tied up on the floor. Kim glanced through the rear window, still able to see a glimpse of the fightercraft hovering at the car's flank. (Be careful,) she urged. "" Cloran roared at Bolar. "" "" Bolar protested. "" "" Cloran shouted, pounding the console of his own craft. "" Suddenly Bolar's mecha vanished from Cloran's peripheral vision. He looked back over his shoulder to the rear displays and saw the trailing battloid, the yellow and black one, holding on to Bolar firmly, all but rending the arms off the Stinger. Cloran roared another Zentraedi curse, and loosed all his ammunition on the other fighter. Jason felt the armor shudder at the next barrage. In the rear view mirrors, bits of the armored metal were flaking off in his wake. The pilot of the mecha had apparently lost his patience, and was closing in fast. Jason looked ahead again, about to pick up the car and try to flee, when the driver finally found a short tunnel, going under the city as a bypass. Jay pulled up sharply as the car vanished into the darkness, and thankfully, the Stinger followed him. "Now it's my turn," Jay murmured, switching to Fighter mode and heading straight up. Again, the mecha followed behind, firing all the way. Even with the Female Power Armor unit's thrusters, the Veritech was an even match, being of better aerodynamic styling. Still, the Veritech's armor packs did cause some resistance, and the Stinger was closing. Jay forced the fighter into a wingover and a high-G turn, switching to Battloid mode and spinning around to face his foe. Meanwhile, Richard and Bolar duked it out in the streets of New Albuquerque. The bear hug Rich had given the mecha damaged its flight packs, essentially grounding it. Rich swatted away the gunpod being swung at him, and it clattered down a side street. Luckily, the civilians had seen the battle brewing from the start, and taken to shelter, long since used to this sort of thing. Rich didn't know what frequency the enemy pilot was using for his radio, nor did he care; it was only in anime and movies that the foes chattered at one another as they fought. He levelled his own gunpod at the Stinger's sensor arrays, or heads. The VF-1A head was easy enough to dispose of; a quick burst blew it clean off the mecha. The other sensor array was more difficult to attack, as it was the center of the faceplate. Rich knew, in the case of a full-size pilot, her face would be directly behind that panel. Of course, when it came down to war, he did what he had to do, but he still didn't like the image it conjured up in his mind's eye. It all went out the window when the pilot started using the chest cannons and Tomahawk arm cannons to blast at both Richard and the nearby buildings. Richard's decision was made, and he shot out the sensor package, then used his head lasers to "draw a line" across the two chest cannons, disabling them. The next step was to disable the Tomahawk parts, but evidently the other shots had disabled whatever controls had been grafted into the mecha. The cannon arms hung limply at the power armor's sides, and Rich waited for the next move by the pilot. He didn't seem to want to give up; he crouched down and threw the mecha's arms forward like he was protecting the mecha's abdomen. Rich blinked, recognizing the posture well from combat video archives of Female Power Armor units. (Oh man, I was hoping he didn't have that working..) Rich held down the trigger on his gunpod, aiming for the center of mass, then at the pods of missiles mounted high on the back of the mecha. With luck, he'd damage something in the launching mechanisms and prevent the missiles from being fired. The armor unit fell backward from the barrage loosed upon it, and lay still and unmoving. Richard cautiously walked up and checked the machine for any armaments still active; there were none. The missile pods had been disabled as planned, and either the mecha's control system had been shut down completely, or the pilot himself was incapacitated. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Richard got on the radio. "Command, and Grey Lead, this is Two. One in custody. Need the civil defense crews to retrieve the mecha." "Good to hear," Jay grunted as the G-forces fought against him. "I'm a bit busy. Talk to you in a bit." "If you can get him grounded, he should be easy to finish off," Rich told him. "If I get to that point, I'll let you know," Jason said, loosing off a burst at the mecha, which deftly evaded and shot into the sky. Jason's plane switched back to fighter mode, and he rocketed after the Stinger. The Zentraedi jerked back and forth, preventing Jay from getting a lock with his missiles. Out of frustration, he shot his gunpod at the craft, hoping it would drift into the line of fire and he might take out the flight pack. No such luck, of course. Suddenly there was a call on GUARD, the emergency frequency. It was Zentraedi-accented English. "Micronian! Back off or I will open fire on your precious population center!" Jason didn't have an answer for that, so he just kept quiet and acted as if he didn't hear it. He tried to swing around and get into position for a missile launch, but the Stinger was all over the sky. "I'm warning you, Micronian! I will do it!" Jason poured on the speed, wondering if the Zentraedi noticed that the longer he let himself be chased, the further from the city he got. Female Power Armor missiles - if indeed the craft was stocked with such rockets - still had a finite range, and eventually the mecha would fly beyond the missiles' limits. Still, Jay's missile lock wouldn't go, with the mecha jumping all over the sky. (You're an idiot,) Jay told himself, finally remembering the unique abilities of his new fighter. He switched to the alternate weapon load screen and selected the plasma cannon that was hanging over his right shoulder, tacked onto the front of the FAST pack. The twin energy beams were wide, and didn't need a lock in order to fire. Without another word, Jason took the shot, and the Stinger dodged, as expected. Still, a grazing shot nicked the side of the mecha, and with the thrusters at full burn, the compromised jetpack exploded in a shower of flame and sparks. Immediately the armor's upward climb was halted, and it hung in the air briefly, almost comically, as inertia gave way to gravity. In the end, gravity won, and the Stinger began its fall towards Earth. "" Cloran snarled, stabbing at buttons and controls. It was all for naught; the thruster pack had been completely obliterated, and many of the control systems on the backside of the mecha had been destroyed or heavily damaged. He was lucky the onboard missiles hadn't gone off - (Of course,) he thought suddenly. (The missiles!) He might be going down, but he could still go down in a blaze of glory. He could target the wretched city and take out as much as possible with a full spread. Even as the thoughts were coming to him, he was programming it into the targeting system. (Yes,) he told himself. (The villa has to be on the list.) The double-crossing Russian, who was the only one who knew where Cloran had gone to meet with the human boy, would pay his price. He locked the other pod of missiles onto the command and control center of the RDF base. Then, using the arms and legs of the mecha as wings, somewhat like a sky-diver would, he tried to steer himself for the tunnel he'd seen the black car tuck itself into. With luck, the impact of his mecha would collapse the tunnel and kill everyone inside. His death would still accomplish what he originally set out to - Cloran's thoughts were interrupted by the realization that the inside of the cockpit was suddenly getting very bright, and very warm.. Kim and Nicolai looked out of the edge of the tunnel, staring at the approaching mecha. Nicolai was about to toss the medic back in the car and order his men to drive as fast and far as they could, when the Veritech reappeared out of the sun and fired another star-bright shot from the massive twin cannon on its top. The Stinger was holed through at its center, and rapidly came apart in a ball of flame and smoke. Debris rained down on New Albuquerque, no piece any larger than the flags that continued to flutter over the RDF base. "He did it," Nicolai breathed, letting out a sigh of relief. He smiled, then turned to usher Kim into the safety of the car, as pieces of metal clattered on its roof. "Your friend is an excellent pilot." FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER RDF NEW ALBUQUERQUE The car pulled up at the feet of the black and yellow Guardian. Military police emerged from the trucks flanking the Veritech, approaching the limo. Nicolai was first out, followed by Kim. The bodyguards lifted Jeremy out and stood him up, wrists still bound behind him. He'd been silent the whole way down, only murmuring a brief apology to his sister when she tried to get information from him. The MPs gathered him up, taking him towards the paddy-wagon truck. Bolar was already inside, only mildly injured. Kim stepped forward. "What's going to happen to him?" The base commander approached and spoke to her. "He'll face charges, on the things either he's confessed to or that which we've been able to bear witness to through surveillance. I won't lie - it's not going to be a nice summer for him." Kim nodded, numbly. Richard approached, then turned as he heard the unmistakable sound of jets. Jason's Guardian was coming in for a landing on the other side of the tarmac. In moments, the pilot was down and running across to the side of the limo. "She is all right," Nicolai nodded, gesturing from her to Jason. The latter went to his girlfriend's side. "Thank you, Colonel, for all your help," the base commander said. "Colonel?" Kim asked, confused. Richard spoke up. "When we came to tell our commander about what your brother was involved in, he gave us the details on Colonel Ivanov's involvement. See, I guess we became 'need to know' at that point, especially when we were put back on active duty and sent to take care of the rebels." "I must apologize," Nicolai said. "No one knew of my true affiliation, with good reason. It was very possible that the Zentraedi would not have received me as warmly as they did, had they known I was working with the RDF." Jason released Kim from his embrace, then said to Nicolai, "And so the business meeting you had in Macross..?" Nicolai smiled. "The Admiral and I 'go way back' as you might put it. We went through basic training together. When he was a submarine commander in the Russian Navy, I chose ground armor - tanks and artillery." "You and Admiral Gloval..?" Richard asked. "Each our own man, still working for the best interests of the people left on this world. Human AND Zentraedi, I should add," Nicolai nodded. The MPs started to pull away with their prisoners. Kim turned to Jason and said, "I need to go sit down somewhere and figure out what to do about Jer." Jason nodded and looked to the commander, who said, "Actually, if we all go sit down, it'll probably be for the best. We need to discuss some things officially, too." "All right," Kim nodded, and looked to Jason, who also nodded, and started leading her towards the headquarters building. The commander turned to follow them, and Richard looked to the Russian colonel. "Are you joining us?" Rich asked. "I think not. At least not now," Nicolai said with a smile after some thought. "You all need time to sort things out for yourselves. I need to regroup my men and give my own report. But I promise, I won't leave town. At least, as far as you know." He grinned. Rich grinned back and offered a salute. "Thanks for all your help, Colonel. I hope we get a chance to work together again." Nicolai returned the salute, then shook Richard's hand. "I am sure we will, Lieutenant. Count on it." Rich watched the man turn and climb into the back of the car, then close the door. The bodyguards, or lieutenants, or probably more precisely, captains and majors, climbed into the front and rear seats still unoccupied, and the Mercedes started up, then turned around and drove out the main gates. "Lieutenant!" the base commander called from the doors to the headquarters building. "Let's go!" Rich looked to the skies, then his fighter; he patted the leg of the mecha, smiling, and turned to jog to the doorway. THE END