The recently completed chapter 2! Don't expect Ch.3 for a while though...
I want C&C ( no, not the Music Factory, but I would like Command &
Conquer ;) )!!!
- MW
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\\ /*MW*/*MW*/*MW*/ Michael White \*MW*\*MW*\*MW*\ //
\\/*MW*/*MW*/*MW*/aj331@ccn.cs.dal.ca\*MW*\*MW*\*MW*\//
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// **Come 1999, I'm movin' to Macross Island!!** \\
// " ... Suddenly great winds of water ... " \\
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Through the Eyes of the Enemy: The Story of a Zentraedi Warrior
Written ( in reality :) ) by
MICHAEL WHITE
Well, Ch.2 is *finally* finished ( phew! ). Not much for me to say
about this one, just that the part near the end is setup for the early
part of Ch.3 - assuming I ever get that one done :)
Comments, suggestions, flames: aj331@ccn.cs.dal.ca
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Nothing in here is intended to infringe on the rights of Harmony Gold.
Please don't sue me! I'm really a very nice person!
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Through the Eyes of the Enemy: The Story of a Zentraedi Warrior
Muer Tai
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****Authors note: all items marked with [rt] are Rough Translations from
Zentraedi, using the closest or most appropriate English equivalent.
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Chapter 2
After the destruction of the Harduin garrison, myself, Jaren, and
Glyga were all assigned to the Ginken garrison. Jaren and myself became
part of the 3815RNH regiment, replacements for two soldiers lost in a
training exercise. I am not quite sure what be came of Glyga, just that he
was on the base somewhere. Life at Ginken was much different than on
Harduin. For one, the Garrison was manned by over 10,000 Zentraedi.
The Invid never assaulted Ginken again, at least not during my
stay there. Then, around the year 1988, there came an event which was
termed the 'Changeover' [rt], where all Zentraedi planetary garrisons were
turned over to Tirolian Bioroid forces. There was no pomp or ceremony
associated with the transfer of command in human militaries, we simply
packed up and moved on to our new assignments.
I was assigned to a Tou Redir-class 'battlewagon' along with Jaren
and Glyga. The shuttle ride up to the ship was the first time I had seen
Glyga in six years. We didn't speak, however. Cordial relationships
between officers and soldiers were not only un common, they were
discouraged.
Jaren, on the other hand, had become a close friend of mine.
Although perhaps 'comrade' is a better term for our relationship. In any
case, we were both relieved when we were once again assigned to the same
regiment. However, our integration into that re giment was not
particularily smooth.
As Jaren and myself were unpacking our meager personal
possessions, we were confronted by the members of our new regiment.
"What do you think you are doing here, groundworms?" one of them
said meanacingly. It should be noted that at that period, relations
between soldiers assigned to planetary garrisons and their counterparts
aboard the more poorly supplied ships of the Arma da were none too good.
I looked to Jaren uneasily. If we handled this situation poorly,
life here would be made very difficult for us.
Jaren stepped up to the bulky soldier and looked him straight in
the eyes. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"It means, slug, that I do not believe you have the experience or
talent neccessary to handle zero-g combat." Despite his hostility, it was
an honest concern. Outside of a brief engagement in an alien ship, neither
of us had any practical combat experience.
Jaren, however, wasn't having any of this. "Is that what you
believe? Listen, insect, my comrade and I engaged two Invid carriers with
limited escort... and _survived_." He turned to me. "Right, Muer?"
I was a little surprised at Jaren. Lying about ones' military
record was a capital offence. He wasn't exactly lying, but he wasn't
telling the whole story either. But I wasn't about to 'sell him out', so I
simply nodded.
This had a powerful effect on our audience. Our harrasser,
however, was less than impressed. He simply mumbled "We shall see...." and
walked away. Then one of the others came up to us.
"Don't mind him." he said. "Salet doesn't like anyone. I'm Turuk,
Turuk Kell."
As I greeted him, I remember thinking 'Wonderful. If he's from the
same clone queue as Jaren, then I'm in for a lot of trouble.'
* * *
"Hey, Muer, wait up!"
I halted to allow Jaren to catch up to me. I was just wandering
the ship, familiarizing myself with it. It was only 500 meters long, and I
had studied its' layout during my training, but had never spent any
extended period of time on one.
"I've been looking all over for you. I just encountered our new
commander, name's Fulor Badek. And he wants to talk to us."
I could tell by Jarens' tone that he wasn't too thrilled about
this. Why would he want to talk to us? We'd only been on the ship for a
few hours. It was unlike an officer to take interest in subordinates,
unless they were exceptionally brilliant or completely incompetent....
* * *
The first thing I noticed about Officer Third Class Fulor Badek
was a long vertical scar running down the length of his left cheek. There
was a dangerous air about him, and I began to feel misgivings about what
was to come.
"Sit." he ordered. We sat immediately. Most officers didn't provide
chairs for soldiers. They preferred to let them stand.
There was no preamble - Fulor came right to the point. "I run a
very tight unit. I didn't want replacements from a garrison, but I didn't
have a choice. Worse, you two seem to have no combat experience of note."
Fulor must have seen my eyebrows raise. He frowned slightly and
continued. "Yes, I am aware of your battle with the Invid in the Harduin
system. I was also intrigued to find a majority of the information on that
battle was highly classified. But what I did manage to find out was that
you merely escaped the enemy, rather than engaging it. While this was
apparently done under orders, I do not consider that useful combat [rt]."
The concept of 'useful combat' was a wholly Zentraedi notion. The
closest definition I can find for it is combat that achieves an objective
while utilizing the skills of a Zentraedi warrior to their utmost.
In any case, both Jaren and myself were shocked. It was
practically unnatural for an officer to take this much interest in their
charges. What other surprises were in store for us?
"Very well, I will come to the point. As of tomorrow, you two and
myself will be spending a lot of time together. In simulators, on training
flights when circumstances permits. Up until the point that I am satisfied
with your performance. You will meet me in simulator 4 at 0500 hours
tomorrow, ships' time. Dismissed."
Shell-shocked as we were, we stood, saluted, and walked out of the
room without a word. Once we were a fair distance down the corridor,
however, we had quite a lot to talk about...
* * *
"Faster, FASTER!!" Fulor was not happy. Jarens' Battlepod was
wreckage, leaving me to tackle roughly 18 Invid scouts. I had managed to
destroy 12 of them, and Jaren had managed to take out 10. This was a vast
improvement over six days ago, when we only had managed to destroy two
scouts before we were overwhelmed.
However, Fulor was apparently not impressed.
I blasted one of them, dodged another, and managed to break clear
of the majority of them. Three seconds later the starfield and Invid craft
vanished from my screen, to be replaced by the words "Simulation
Complete".
"You are dead." Fulor said with palatable disdain. "And you allowed
17 Invid to survive. We will run the simulation again. On a harder
difficulty level. And you will do better."
In truth, it was remarkable if a single pod could eliminate one
Invid. Of course, there was no point in telling that to Fulor. Not that he
would've listened anyway.
* * *
"Don't worry. He's always tough on new subordinates. I had to go
through it too." Turuk was saying. We were in line to recieve our mid-day
rations at an aft ration terminal. I hadn't spoken to Turuk since the
first day, nor any other member of my regiment save for Jaren. We always
left prior to their awakening, and returned long after they had fallen
asleep.
"And how long did it take for you?" I asked. I didn't know how much
more of this 'accelerated training' I could take.
"Me? About two weeks." Turuk laughed as I groaned out loud. "Don't
worry. From what you told me, you seem to be progressing fine. It probably
won't take as long for you."
And then I was standing in front of the terminal. I had a choice
between ration type A or ration type B. Basically the only difference was
that one was a white disc similar to a rice cake, and the other one was
brown. Neither had any discerbable taste, and their texture tended to
range from that of a sponge to titanium.
I really didn't care what one I got, so I just pressed button A.
Nothing came out. I simply shrugged and pressed B. An bland-looking brown
60cm disc dropped into a recepticle. I picked it up, and then moved to the
water fountain to get a drink. I had never had any other kind of meal
before. Ginken did have some edible plant life, but there was no
indigenious species to gather it for us. And it wasn't as if the Zentraedi
were going to do it.
Their wasn't a mess hall proper, just a bench along each wall
where we were supposed to sit and eat our meager ration discs. This
particular hall served the 3815RNH regiment - mine - as well as the
4482TGJ, 2587FCT, and 5782DRL regiments. I sat down and took a bite out of
the disc. It had apparently been stored improperly, as it was soggy and
stale. I ate it anyway, seeing as how I didn't have much choice. Failure
to comply with standard eating, sleeping, and exercise regimens was
considered a form of insubordination.
Turuk sat next to me. We had finished our discs, but we were
off-duty. Besides, this 'mess hall' was all we had for a common area.
We chatted about general items, discussing various members of the
regiment, our past experiences, and whatnot. I began to like him, and
decided that life here would not be too bad. Assuming I survived Fulors'
training sessions.
"The only one you have to watch out for is Salet." Turuk was
saying. "But then, you already found that out. He keeps to himself a lot.
Usually, if you leave him alone, he'll leave you alone. But keep on your
toes anyway. He has... unique ways of getting others into trouble."
It was advice I should have heeded.
* * *
Nothing of any note occured for quite some time. 1999 came and
went, none of us aware of the events transpiring concerning Zors'
fortress. My career was going nowhere, I was just a nameless soldier in
the bowels of a ship with millions of equivilents. I participated in seven
seperate major battles with the Invid, coming through it with a seemingly
worthless promotion to Soldier Third Class. Jarens' career was moving at
the same pace as mine. I had made an assortment of friends and enemies
over the years, most of whom were blown to pieces by the Invid. Turuk,
Fulor, and Salet still lived however, and still belonged to my regiment.
The Zentraedi Armada awarded excellence. Not simply survival. We
all managed to take out just enough Invid so we didn't get reassigned to a
worse unit, but not enough for a promotion.
2003, however, brought about an event that would change everything.
* * *
"Fold alert level six." That was the announcement in its entirety.
But everyone knew what it meant. A short-notice, short-range, non-combat
fold operation of large proportions. The effect of the announcement was
quite dramatic, as everyone on the flight deck hurried to secure their
stations.
This was the same Tou Redir I arrived on 15 years ago, service
number 32569-CN. Not much had changed.
"Fold commencing"
There was the usual distortion that accompanied short-range folds,
which lasted about thirty seconds. Upon defold, we each inspected the area
or station we occupuied for fold-time damage. There was none, and since
there were no further announcements, we all returned to our previous
tasks. Sure, we were curious, but unless someone told us what was going
on, we weren't going to find out.
* * *
It was two hours later that our regiment and three others were
ordered to report for a mission briefing.
I was somewhat surprised to see Glyga there. I half expected him
to be dead. But, there he was, commander of one of the other regiments. In
any case, I took a seat next to Jaren and Turuk. Turuk had become a good
friend over the years, and Jaren was alwa ys there for me. After a moment,
an officer I had never seen before stood before us, and the briefing
began.
There was no preamble, just a direct stating of mission
objectives. The Zentraedi way. "Lord Delnas has ordered units from this
ship to recon the interior of this unidentified spacecraft."
With that, the image of a large spherical ship was projected above
the nameless officer. I looked at the coordinate display and realized why
we were being dispatched - we were the closest ship. Not recognition for
being great warriors, simply being in the right place at the right time.
In any case, I was having no luck identifying the craft. It was
roughly 4500 meters in length, with multiple bulges all over it. The
display was cycling, giving us access to a multitude of sensor readings.
Whatever it was, it was putting out a lot of power.
I didn't know it then, but what I was staring at was an early
prototype for a mothership of the Robotech Masters.
* * *
I ran to the launch bay, only to find everyone else had beaten me
there. Fearing the worst, I looked for an unoccupied pod.
"Damn... not number 18..."
As usual, all the other standard Regult pilots had snapped up the
good pods, leaving me with number 18. Pilots were only assigned a type of
mecha, not a specific one. Which was how I wound up with 18.
The problem with 18 was that from time to time, its left leg
stuttered. Not badly enough to warrant a replacement, but enough to be an
irritant. This wasn't a problem in zero-gee, it could be fatal on a ground
mission, or one like this one. Well, I was g oing to have to make the best
of it.
I had barely sealed and powered up the pod when the launch bay
door cranked open. I tensed, my hand on the throttle, waiting for the
inevitable order.
"GO! GO! GO!"
I slammed the throttle forward, the pods two thrusters belching
flame. At the same time, I ran the pod forward to the edge of the bay. I
stepped off into space, firing my maneuvering thrusters until I was in the
standard flight position. I checked my scanners to ensure I was in
formation. I was off by six meters, so I fired my thrusters again.
Suddenly proximity warnings began blaring all around me. I pushed
my pod through the equivilant of a bank and dive to avoid a collision.
Only when I was clear did I stop to check what had happened. A pod had
veered off course, almost broadsiding me. Pod 12, the one Salet was
piloting.
As expected, Fulor took notice. "Get back in formation, you two!"
I waited until Salet was clear, and then slid back into the
formation. I was angry and embarassed by the incident. Thanks to Salets'
inattention, I was sure to be put through hell in the debriefing.
All these feelings evaporated when the voice of the mission leader
- an Officer named Donis - came over my radio. "Approaching objective.
Sensors have found what appears to be a docking port on the underside of
the ship. 7408YUN regiment will attempt entry."
We were still a good two kilometers out, approaching in a fairly
casual manner. Sure we were keeping our eyes open, but the simple fact was
that we were expendable. And as such we had been given instructions for a
quick, simple journey to the ship. If we died, then another team would be
sent. If they died, the ship would be blasted to bits. The Zentraedi way.
We had moved to within a few hundred meters of the target area.
The 7408YUN regiment landed on what appeared to be a sort of launching bay
door. The 9411CJF regiment had also landed, and delpoyed to provide cover
to the 7408YUN. Our regiment, along with the 9602SWG, circled them
overhead.
A few moments later, the radio came to life. "Entry gained.
3815RNH, 9602SWG, and 7408YUN regiments, move in."
And with that, we flew our pods into this large, well-lit launch
bay. The 7408YUN had apparently figured out how to activate the bay door.
A good thing, because from the looks of it, we would have had a hard time
blasting it open.
There was no indications of hostility - or of life for that matter
- so the 9411CJF was ordered to join us. 80 Battlepods stood in the
completely empty launch bay. I looked at the walls. There were several
doors, but they were all micronian-sized. Then I spied a large door
capable of accomadating a Battlepod.
I apparently wasn't the only one who noticed this, because Donis
had moved his Glaug up to it. There was some sort of panel next to the
door. Brute force being the prefered modus operandi of the Zentraedi, he
simply blasted it.
The door opened.
And Donis' Battlepod exploded.
We were all shocked. But we reacted quickly and formed a defensive
posture. Nothing happened. I saw Fulor move his pod to the rear of the
formation, obviously to make radio contact with the fleet.
What with Donis' death, Fulor was now in charge of the mission.
When several Battlepod teams were assigned to operate together, the
highest ranking officer took command of the group. Conversely, a single
Battlepod team could be split into two groups of ten, four groups of
five, or ten groups of two. In these instances, the highest ranking
soldier had command of these 'sub-groups'. But he was, of course, to leave
the major decisions to the officer.
If the officer died, however, the whole team was temporarily
transferred to the command of the nearest officer. If no officer was
nearby, they became 'freelancers', whose only purpose was to blow up as
many of the enemy as possible.
"Our mission will continue." said Fulor. He then ordered us to
march into the interior of the ship. I was a bit edgy at first, but I
relaxed when we passed by the door. The hall itself was a bit odd-looking,
with these strange jewel-like fixtures mounted on the walls at regular
intervals. But we had yet to encounter any signs of life. Radio contact
with the fleet had been lost, and I wondered if we were walking into a
trap.
The hall suddenly expanded into a large room. From there, there
were six possible exits, including the hall we had just emerged from.
Fulor ordered a halt.
I took this opportunity to run a brief systems check on my
Battlepod. Everything seemed to be working fine. Perhaps this was a
replacement pod, or maybe someone had been fiddling with the leg. I was
about to run another check just to be sure, when Fulors' voice came over
the radio.
"We're splitting up." He then began calling off assignments,
splitting the group into four groups of 16, and one of 15. Somehow, I
wound up in the command group with Fulor, as did Salet. That was a bit of
a surprise, considering the incident outside, but I wasn't about to
protest. It wouldn't do me any good.
* * *
Ten minutes of walking the hall had achieved very little. This
hall was somewhat larger than the one we had taken earlier, and the odd
jewel-like fixtures were more frequent. Then we came up upon a large door
identical to the one that had claimed Donis. Fulor, however, was
apparently more cautious, as he had ordered the pod on point to open the
door. I couldn't identify who was piloting it, but I was certainly glad it
wasn't me. I wondered how Jaren was faring. He was with one of the other
groups. Turuk, however, was in mine.
The unfortunate soldiers' pod moved towards the door cautiously.
After a moment of inspection, the soldier simply blasted the panel with
his pulse laser. Not a wise move, considering what happened to Donis, but
it apparently paid off. The door slid away, and nothing happened to the
pod. I took a good look inside.
There were four more tunnels.
Fulor called a halt again to study the situation. If we split
again, then I could concievably get command of one of the groups. I was,
after all, one of the higher-ranking soldiers there. I was somewhat
intrigued by the possibility. That is, until Fulor radioed us.
"We will split up again. Pods 3815RNH-18 and 3815RNH-14 will remain
to secure this room. If the remainder do not discover anything of interest
within twenty minutes, we will return here." He then began naming off
assignments, but I wasn't listening. Stay here? Why should I have to stay
here? We hadn't stationed pods at the entry point or at the room where we
had split up the first time, so why here? At least Turuk was stationed
with me.
"Pod 3815RNH-12 will take the smaller fifth door." Fulor ordered
Fifth door? It was only then that I noticed it, nestled in a
corner. It was barely large enough to accomadate a Battlepod. I wondered
why Salet had been assigned to recon that one alone.
Then Fulor addressed Turuk and myself. "Should any group fail to
make radio contact with you at regular four-minute intervals, pod
3815RNH-14 will proceed to investigate. Under no circumstance, however, is
pod 3815RNH-18 to leave this room." Another odd set of orders. This
mission was growing stranger by the minute.
"All right, move out."
With that, the pods began to file out of the room. Leaving Turuk
and myself behind.
* * *
"Group 3 checking in. Situation unchanged."
"Acknowledged." I replied. This was the third series of radio
checks, and so far everyone had checked in except for groups two and five.
"Group 2 checking in. No change in situation."
I acknowledged, and waited for Salet to check in. Two minutes went
by. I fiddled with the radios' controls, to no avail. Another two minutes
went by, and the fourth series of radio checks commenced. It was then that
Turuk told me he was going after Salet.
I simply acknowledged. As Turuks' Battlepod vanished into the
doorway, Fulor contacted me.
"Situation." he ordered.
"Contact lost with group five approximetely four minutes ago. Pod
3815RNH-14 has been dispatched to investigate, as per orders. All other
groups check in with no change in status."
There was a brief pause. "Time of pod 3815RNH-14s' departure?"
"Approximetely one minute ago." I expected him to get angry over
our waiting so long, but he said nothing.
* * *
Two minutes later, I was startled by what sounded like a warning
tone. I looked around the room, trying to identify the source. Finally, I
homed in on one of those large jewel-like fixtures on the wall.
Cautiously, I walked my pod up to it. Suddenly, the warning tone ceased,
and the jewel began to change color.
I was about to backpedal, when suddenly the image of two
Battlepods appeared inside the jewel. It was apparently some kind of video
screen, showing me what looked like Turuks' pod along with... Salets'? I
was about to contact Fulor and tell him what was happening, when suddenly
a blue bolt fired from off the screen struck Turuks' pod. I watched in
shock as his pod exploded silently on the screen. That shot hadn't come
from an alien weapon, it had come from a Zentraedi PB-10.
Twelve seconds later, I saw a Glaug appear from behind Salets'
pod. It was Fulor. He walked over to the wreckage of Turuks' pod, then
trained his weapons on Salet. Suddenly my radio crackled to life.
"Operation terminated! Everyone return to nav point gamma! Soldier
Third Class Salet Y'kin is under arrest for destruction of military
equipment, and murder! If he attempts to escape, kill him!"
I sat back, shocked. That wasn't what happened. But who had killed
Turuk? There was no way it could have been Fulor, he couldn't have circled
around that quickly. But more devastating was the fact that one Zentraedi
would fire on another. It simply went against everything that I had been
taught, everything that I had experienced. Little did I know then that
this wouldn't be the last time something happened to me that would run
counter to everything I believed in.
But then, my ability to question everything I believed in is
probably the reason I'm still alive today.
The universe is funny that way.
* * *
[ TO BE CONTINUED... SOONER OR LATER :) ]