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MARS
The Mockingbird fanjet was not originally part of U.N. Spacy's inventory, but once Macross had set up to produce them, they had rapidly become the jet of choice for recon work. Tagged with the call sign Raptor, they were fast, maneuverable, and easy to handle. The original Mockingbird, Rick Hunter's private jet, had also featured twin solid rocket boosters. The Macross design teams had removed them in favour of the two small video cameras, environmental support and avionics, then, in a fit of engineer-type logic, had put them back on.
A Mockingbird, painted a sandy red, roared across the sky, mere feet above the surface of the Red Planet. Lisa adjusted the trim on the stick, glanced at her instruments to confirm her heading. Ahead of her, Mars Base Sara glimmered in the weak sunlight.
She toggled her radio. "Base, this is Raptor Two Six. I have Mars Base in sight. Looks like no movement so far."
"Roger that, Raptor. Be advised we are tracking low-level seismic disturbances in the area." Reception was lousy, but the Macross was below the horizon, and the Layer around this rock sucked.
"Affirm, Base."
A different voice crackled in her ear. "Remember, Lisa, your primary mission is to locate extra consumables. Especially food; we're rather low."
Lisa grinned. "Tell me about it. Roy sure is ticked that we're out of pineapple." She advanced the throttle, picked up some altitude, and began looking for a place to land.
Consumables may have been Base's primary reason for letting her run this recon, but her own, private reason remained the same. Upon coming within radio range of Mars, the Macross had detected an open commo link. Gloval was of the opinion that it was a simple computer glitch, but was willing to investigate.
Lisa hoped very much that it wasn't.
Eight years ago, Lisa had been very much in love with a man named Karl Riber. He was everything she'd ever seen that was good in a man - friendly, gentle, optimistic, dedicated to peace. She had often asked herself what it was that he saw in her - belligerent, antagonistic, a military brat, and quite plain to the bargain.
Objectivity was never one of Lisa's strong points.
Karl Riber had signed up with the U.N. Spacy, because he believed in their mission of peace. He'd volunteered for the mission to establish Mars Base Sara, even though it would take him away from Lisa for five long years. It was his dream to reach the stars.
Two years after he'd left, terrorists associated with anti-unification groups detonated a neutron device near Mars Base Sara. Though the base itself was mostly unharmed, the radiation from the blast would surely have vaporized everyone in the base.
Lisa had been devastated; even more so, because she'd had nobody to turn to for support. Her father hadn't approved of Karl, and it would be two more years before she'd meet Claudia Grant.
So when an open communication link mysteriously appeared on a base that had been dead to the universe for six years...a base where the man she'd loved had supposedly died...well, once again, she'd been unable to look at the situation objectively.
* * * * *
"Captain Saotome, Lieutenant Hunter. Please report to Promotheus Briefing room."
Ranma cursed, and hopped up off of his chair. "Always when I'm eating."
Roy laughed. "When are you ever not eating?"
"You shut up. You're no better." Ranma dropped a forty-cred note on the table and turned for the door.
And was stopped, as someone grabbed his collar.
"Ranma! Prepare to die!"
He turned, to see Hibiki Ryouga, eternal lost boy and sometime adversary. "Hey, Ryouga! Long time no see!"
Ryouga snarled, and drew back a fist.
"You sure you want to do that?" Roy stood up and cracked his knuckles. "Last time you tried it, it didn't work out well for you."
Ryouga hesitated, then lowered his hand. "Ranma, you've still got a lot to answer for!"
"I don't see how." Ranma scowled. "I didn't make you follow me to China. Wasn't my fault at all that you couldn't find your way to the duel. An' as for you gettin' pulped last time we met, that was your own damn fault."
"Dammit, I'm not blind!"
Ranma blinked.
"Did you think I'd never figure it out? That you and that red-haired girl are one and the same?"
Ranma shrugged. "I was kinda hopin' that nobody'd ever figure it out."
"You're the one that pushed me into the spring!"
"What spring?"
"At Jushenkyo!"
Ranma nodded slowly. "Okay, at least now I know what the heck you're talkin' about. I never pushed anyone into one of them. Would'nt wish it on my worst enemy. Not even on you."
"None the less. It was you, Ranma. The last thing I remember before my life changed forever, was being hit by a panda, then by a red-haired girl. And the girl pushed me off the cliff, as she chased the panda."
Ranma sighed, and shook his head. "It mighta been me. Hell, probably was."
"Then you admit your guilt!"
"Nope."
Roy scratched his head. "You're saying it was Ranma's fault you got cursed, because he pushed you in?" He turned to Ranma. "Why would you do that, Ranma?"
Ranma shrugged. "I was awful steamed at Pop at the time. I mean, I'd just gotten cursed, and a real nasty one, too. So I was chasin' him around the pools, tryin' to clobber him. But I was so mad that I couldn't see jack. I mighta hit Ryouga, might never have even realized he was there."
The bitch box crackled to life again. "Captain Saotome, Promotheus Briefing Room."
"Hell, I gotta go."
"Not so fast!" Ryouga moved again to block Ranma's exit. Roy rolled his eyes, and pulled the Lost Boy out of Ranma's path.
"Ranma, better hurry. I'll keep this clown busy while you're gone."
* * * * *
Miriya Parino, First Assault Group Leader of the Second Quadrano Battalion, hesitated at her commanding officer's door. Her hand was raised to touch the annunciator, but she held back.
~By the Protoculture, how I hate this woman!~
To Miriya, her skill at battle was all that mattered. Nothing existed beyond that. Excellence was her goal, and she took any step to ensure that she was the best in the Quadrano Battalion.
To her, her commanding officer's disregard for her own skill at arms was incomprehensible. To study tactics and strategy, that was one thing; it could only add to one's skills. But to forsake combat altogether--!
The Commander was rarely seen in the practise hall, still more rarely in the simulator room. In battle, the rare times one saw her there, she flew a Glaug. The Glaug had been developed by the Zentraedi, as an advanced form of the Regult used by both Zentraedi and Meltraedi alike. It was vastly inferior to the Queadlunn-Rau, and certainly not fit for a Meltraedi to even sit within.
Further, the Commander had spent great amounts of time with Exedore - that weak, insipid excuse for a Zentraedi! So what if he had been around long enough to remember the Protoculture? So what if he was some great font of information? Battle was the true test, of both Zentraedi and Meltraedi. He wouldn't last ten seconds in battle, even against one of his own. And yet the Zentraedi allowed him to live!
~Just more proof that the Meltraedi are inherently superior to the Zentraedi.~
But her Commander had spent many hours in conference with the gnomish, ugly little man. And when she had emerged, had announced this...this disgusting, incomprehensible agreement.
~Cease-fire.~
Even the thought of it brought a bad taste to her mouth. Though the next word, Alliance, had all but made her violently ill.
She stabbed at the annunciator with one extended finger.
*Come.*
The doors parted before her, and she stepped into the Commander's presence. *My Lady. Mission successful.*
The Commander turned away from the viewport and nodded slightly.
*Excellent work, Miriya. We shall now wait for the retrieval signal. Do not approach the Micrones before then. The risk is too great.*
Miriya sneered. *Micrones! I saw how dangerous they were. I must have killed fifty of them in one mission!*
*And twelve of your own troops were slain. Six of them by one pilot alone.*
*I killed him.*
*Not so.* The Commander turned back to the viewport. *The Micrones recovered his Mecha. They would not have done that unless he lived.*
Miriya scowled. *It is irrelevant. He was defeated.*
*Do not let your ego get in the way of your mission again. Dismissed.*
In the reflection of the viewport, Azonia, Commander of the Second Quadrano Battalion, watched Miriya salute and stalk out of the room. Only when the door was firmly closed behind her did she sigh, and massage her temples with her fingertips.
~By the Protoculture, how I hate that woman!~
* * * * *
"Surely, the Micrones are all insane."
Three men were gathered around a small fire, warming their hands. The shortest of the three was only four and a half feet tall, with spiky black hair and pasty skin. His companions were somewhat taller; the redhead was six foot, and powerfully built, and the one with the blue hair was five foot nine, though slender as a reed.
All three of them had, just a short while ago, been considerably larger.
All of them were dressed in clothes that were not much above rags. The fortress was rather chilly in most areas, and the threesome were used to much warmer environments. Scattered about them were an odd collection of items: a portable CD player, a Minmei doll, a bowl with strange markings on the side, some sort of framework covered in beads, and around thirty batteries.
"No marching. Nobody in step at all. Not enough uniforms."
The burly one sighed. "How can any society exist with so little structure? It's purely chaotic. We can't even requisition meals."
"At least they didn't find the entry capsule."
"Hey. You three."
The threesome turned, to see a woman standing at the end of the alley. She was wearing a uniform that they recognized: U.N. Spacy.
The short one stood up. "Yeah?"
"What the heck are you guys doing out here?" The Lieutenant shook her head. "Thought they'd billeted everyone by now."
'Billet' - a word they knew. The short one shook his head. "We haven't been billeted at all, nor have we managed to figure out requisitioning procedure."
"Ah, well, I can take care of that." The Lieutenant flipped open a notepad. "Names?"
"Um...I'm Rico." The short guy jerked a thumb back towards his partners. "Those're Bron and Konda."
"Last names?"
"Umm..." Rico considered. They'd managed to figure out that each Microne had two names. Now just to pick a common one..."Mary."
The woman blinked, then jotted something down. "Okay. Why not? What about those two?"
"They're also Mary."
Another blink. "All three of you have the last name Mary. Okay. You brothers?"
"Of course!" Rico was offended. As if this...this female could dare to suggest otherwise!
Apparently, it was the right thing to say; the woman relaxed. "Fine." She tore the page out of the notebook, and handed it to Rico. "Take this to the location listed at the top of the page. They'll set you up."
"Thank you." One of those meaningless Microne phrases. He turned to his brothers. "C'mon, let's go. On the bounce!"
Akane watched the three run off, and shrugged. Apparently, there were still people in the world stupid enough that not even the Macross' safety net could help them. She turned, and continued on to the briefing room.
It would be several months before she discovered that she'd just aided and abetted an enemy espionage unit.
* * * * *
"Angel Flight One, Macross. You are clear for takeoff. Squawk one one three five."
Ranma tapped her mike. "Macross, aye. Taxiing now." She dialed her transponder, then waved the go to the deck chief. She advanced the throttle, and her Gerwalk-mode Valkyrie slowly lifted off into the air.
It felt good to fly in atmosphere again, even if the atmosphere was thin and toxic. There was just something about air, biting into her wings and control surfaces. Her link to her Mecha was closer than ever, thanks to the wierd engines that Dr. Lang had ordered installed in her Valkyrie. So she could *feel* the air, the pressure against the elevons and ailerons.
It beat vacuum, any day of the week.
The other five Valkyries were also taking off, though somewhat slower than hers. While the S-model seemed less suitable for space, here in atmosphere she could tell she was gonna leave her wingmates in the dust.
"Angel Lead, your vector two two seven for intercept. There are friendlies in that area, so watch your targets."
"Aye." She flipped over to Angel's freak. "Okay, gang. Let's go check it out. Remember, there's a Cat's Eye and a Mockingbird out there, but no Mecha. And so far, it's just seismic activity. But keep 'em peeled."
* * * * *
*All mines are in place, my Lord.*
Khyron nodded. His handsome face was twisted into a sneer, and his high-necked cloak was pulled in close to his frame, to cut the chill. The air here was thin, but there was enough for a Zentraedi officer to survive. His troops were buttoned up inside their Mecha; exposure to this atmosphere would likely kill them. But he was not built so weakly as they.
*Excellent, Grel. Gerao. Signal the Meltraedi, and tell that Azonia person that the trap is laid. Tight beam only; if you give away our position, you'll not have to worry about the Micrones killing you.*
*Understood, my Lord.*
* * * * *
Lisa slowly walked down the corridor, glancing at name plates on each door. Her primary mission had been completed, though she wasn't happy with the results; a search of the food storage compartments quickly proved that the base's supplies had decayed past usefulness.
~So much for the century-long shelf life.~
Similarly, the communications uplink had suffered some odd short circuit, bringing it on-line for no apparent reason. She'd shut down the link, then informed Macross of the situation. They'd requested her immediate return, but she'd argued in favour of a visual search of the compound. And since she was the officer on site...
She stopped, and her gloved hand traced along the plate on the door before her.
Riber
She opened the door and stepped into the cabin. It was small, even smaller than her own cabin aboard the ship. A bunk, doubling as a desk when the mattress was flipped up. A chair, currently lying on its side. A small shelf, containing various bits of memorabilia...She picked up a picture frame, lying face down on the top shelf. It was half buried in red sand, as the window had shattered long ago, but the picture itself was still intact. It showed her and Karl, just before he'd had to leave.
She fell to her knees, dropping the picture.
She couldn't lie to herself any longer.
* * * * *
Ranma creeped the Mecha up to the edge of the crevice. The Cat's Eye had reported a seismic disturbance here about half an hour ago, and on its last pass, about five minutes ago, had registered a sizeable magnetic anomaly. Ranma hadn't spotted the Mockingbird yet, but commo traffic from Base had clarified that; it had landed, and its pilot was carrying out a leg recon on the old Mars Base.
She pulled the Mecha another five feet, just high enough to get a sensor boom over the edge. And gasped.
Down in the crevice were some forty or fifty Zentraedi Battle Pods. Mostly the Trooper type, but she also noticed a few Artillery Pods. Those were definitely bad news. Also, she spotted one of the over-powered Officer Pods. Its hatch was standing open, and the pilot, a tall, arrogant scoundrel from the looks of him, was waving a hand at the pods. His lips were moving, but the distortion was too strong for Ranma to be able to read his lips.
~Not like I speak Zentraedi anyway. And at least there's no Amazons.~
She backed the Mecha off, then touched a control to activate her laser communications. The coherent beam was impossible to detect by electronic intercept gear, but relied on a line-of-sight to operate. She centered Amy's Valkyrie in her gunsights, recorded a brief assessment of the situation, and tapped the SEND button.
* * * * *
"Captain Saotome reports enemy Mecha, approximately battalion strength, including command and support elements. Assets on site include six Valkyries, one Cat's Eye, and two Destroids within missile range."
Gloval was not a happy man. He'd landed on Mars, after a heated argument with his exec, on the off chance of finding more supplies. Not only was that a bust, but now it seemed that the Zentraedi had been here waiting for them.
"Ignore them. Sound recall, all units. Sammie, warm up the gravitic drive; time to see if the repairs will hold. Vanessa, start the reactors, in case they don't. And Kim, activate the pin-point barrier system."
A chorus of "Aye, Captain", and the bridge crew sprang to work like a well-oiled machine. Gloval leaned back in his seat and scowled.
* * * * *
*My Lord, the Dimensional Fortress is starting her engines.*
Khyron whirled to face his aide. *Status of mines?*
*Ninety-five percent charged.*
*It'll have to do. Activate them.*
* * * * *
"Captain! Local gravity has increased forty-seven percent!"
"Grav drive off-line; it's overloaded."
"Thrusters aren't responding."
"Incoming vessels. Twenty-two ships are entering atmosphere, Captain. Configuration unknown. Oh, and they're launching fighters."
Gloval nearly bit through the stem of his pipe.
"It's a trap!"