Robotech: Snipes In Wonderland
                       By J. Austin Wilde
                       Fission Park Press




J. Austin Wilde, K.B.C.S.
Minister of Propaganda and
Super Critical Reactor Axe Man
Fission Park Press
wildeman@flash.net




Many thanks to all the snipes who crawled out of the bilge to C&C 
this work. I dedicate this ‘fic to you!

     For those of you who follow such things, I’m using the Jack 
McKinney continuity for a timeline of major events. The characters in 
Snipes will probably never meet the established characters of Robotech 
except in passing. This story isn’t about mecha pilots, or idol singers, 
or Bridge Bunnies. It is about the men and women who fought the 
hardest battles of all -the battle to keep the SDF-1 in fighting order.

     If you’re wondering about the title of this ‘fic, a ‘snipe’ is a 
nautical term for an engineering type; one who usually works below 
decks in the fire rooms and engine rooms of ships. The ‘In Wonderland’ 
part comes from the nickname of the A1W prototype training reactor 
plant at the Naval Reactors Facility, Idaho National Engineering 
Laboratories; outside of Idaho Falls, Idaho. A1W was the USS 
ENTERPRISE prototype reactor plant. A1W was known to staff 
and students alike as “Alice In Wonderland,” and if you were ever 
to tour the plant for the first time you would feel a little like 
Alice through the looking glass. Alas, like Snipe’s Castle, A1W is 
no more.

     The situations, mecha, and some of the characters portrayed in 
this work of fanfiction are the property of Harmony Gold USA. 
So there.


                    WARNING:
<<This fanfic employs some rather harsh language.>>

_______________________________________________________________________

Robotech: Snipes in Wonderland
Episode Three:
Spacefold



     Milo Wassermann was barely back in the Reflex Four compartment 
when Lochland began issuing orders for all sections to prepare for 
conventional HEPLAR vertical drive launch. Like just about everything 
else on the SDF-1, the HEPLAR drives had never been fully tested. 
The only thing they had going for them was that the massive fusion 
driven magnetically accelerated plasma engines had been built using 
existing human reaction drive technology.
     He could still feel the burns on his skin. It wasn’t bad, just 
painful enough to make him feel it every time he moved around in his 
suit. Elvis and Bolt-Neck had similar burns. If he could spare them, 
Milo would have sent them both to sick bay for treatment.
     At the moment they were busy with their own preparations for the 
second attempt at a launch. Reflex Four contained two of the twelve 
main compression turbines and four of the eight booster compressors 
for the HEPLAR drives. The massive turbines sat all the way aft and 
in the very bowels of the mammoth compartment.
     Rod was in charge while he was gone, so Milo went to him for a 
status report. If he had his suit’s faceplate open, he would have 
smelled the tang of ozone and smoke that had not completely cleared 
from their electrical panel fire. Rod seemed to have things under 
control, having secured Doomsday from his job as phone-talker to 
prepare the turbine warm-up procedures.
     “How’s the warm-up going, Rod?”
     Rod looked at him and wobbled his hand.
     “So so. I’ve got Doomsday and Genie working on that while Jefe 
and Bulkhead stand the watches. I’ve got Stick running around playing 
gofer.”
     “How far into the procedure are we?”
     “Just the initial conditions,” Rod admitted. “We’re taking it slow 
right now, and by the way, that panel that burned up was actually a 
feeder for some of the booster unit control and indication power. For 
some dumb-assed reason that I can’t imagine, it’s the stuff that isn’t 
ABT protected. I feel like a fuckin’ idiot for missing it when I said 
we didn’t lose anything vital.”
     “That’s okay Rod, I didn’t think we’d actually be trying to use 
the HEPLAR engines in an atmosphere.”
     “You’re tellin’ me.”
     “So what are we doing about it?” Milo asked warily.
     “Ran some patch work busses to the panels from the ABT,” 
Rod replied. “I snuck a peek, found a couple extra terminals 
inside, and said what the hell. Don’t ask how we’re securing the 
lugs.”
     Milo knew better than to ask questions he didn’t really want the 
answers to.
     “Fine, I won’t. Just get those boosters up and running.”
     Rod nodded. Milo could see the grin behind his faceplate visor. 
“No prob, Wassermann. Now that you’re back from playin’ hero I 
gladly turn responsibility for this nightmare back over to you.”
     “I relieve you,” Milo said formally. “Now get down in the hole 
and see what you can do about cutting a few corners in that warm-up 
procedure.”
     Something distant but loud rocked the ship. The two men didn’t 
think it was possible for anything external to make the ship shudder 
like that. It was another reminder to them that there was a war going 
on out there. Every minute SDF-1 was a sitting duck was a minute 
the aliens (whoever they were) could use to kill them right there on 
the ground.
     “Aye. But don’t get yer panties in a bind, we still need to fuel the 
drives, and you know how long *that’s* gonna take.”
     Milo knew. Lochland issued an order to begin fueling procedures 
as Fowler spoke. The Launch Day plan called for a fueling to take 
place in lunar orbit above the ALUCE moon base after SDF-1’s 
leisurely gravity drive transit from Earth orbit. This was a contingency 
plan that no one had expected to use.
     They had to take on several million tons of hydrogen (in the 
form of seawater) into their main reaction mass processing tanks. 
Even with the ridiculous capacities of the pumps, (almost a hundred 
thousand gallons per minute), it would take fifteen minutes to fill the 
tanks, trim the ship using the environmental GCS pods, another twenty 
to actually get the reactors fired up to the level of thermal output 
required to ‘crack’ the water for its hydrogen and begin processing the 
fuel, plus the standard SNAFU delay times associated with any major 
evolution. 
     Hopefully the Veritech jocks and their grounded Destroid cousins 
could keep the heat off long enough for SDF-1 to actually make orbit.
     There wasn’t much Milo could do about it, as there were other 
sections in other compartments who had the machinery. All they 
needed to do was get those compression turbines ready when Old 
Man Gloval wanted to leave. He followed Fowler below into Middle 
Level, across a catwalk headed aft, and then down into Lower 
Level. He tried to ignore the jerry-rigged heavy power cables that 
snaked along the catwalk from the ABT to the control systems.
     Genie was at the control panel as Doomsday clambered over the 
massive heavy gauge titanium ductwork that fed the booster 
compression turbines from inlet scoops big enough to hold a modest 
sized office building within. The huge turbines rolled very slowly -a 
sedate six revolutions per hour. Dominating the aft end of the 
compartment were the locomotive sized drive motors -the mightiest 
400Hz 3-Phase AC electric motors in human history.
     “Roll check sat on all turbines!” Doomsday called, ‘sat’ being short 
for ‘satisfactory.’
     “Roll check sat, aye!” Genie confirmed. “Commencing 100 RPM 
ramp!”
     Genie checked his displays. The booster compression turbines had 
control power now thanks to Fowler’s inventiveness, and he was 
ready to begin the formal warm-up. He saw Milo standing along the 
ladder watching, and pointed to the panel.
     “Hey Top,” he said. “We’re ready to roll ‘em.”
     “Spin ‘em up Genie,” Milo replied. “I don’t think the aliens care 
if you get my permission first.”
     “Aye,” Genie answered. His fingers flew across the panels. Those 
incredible drive motors began to hum in a bass rumble as the starting 
current spiked across electrical distribution consoles in Central and on 
the Bridge. The turbines began to roll slightly faster. The deck plates 
began to vibrate.
     “What a racket!” Doomsday complained. He was standing between 
the two Main Compression turbines as they started to roll. They began 
to hear and feel the tons of air per second that were drawn through 
the compression turbines to feed the HEPLAR drives. Pressure 
began to build up within the SDF-1’s Main Engines.
     “That’s just a harmonic,” Genie supplied. “It’s gonna go like that 
until the turbines spin up past the resonance frequency region.”
     “Just wait till they actually light the Mains,” Milo replied with a 
yell. He didn’t want to use the commo circuit, as channels were 
still very active with all of the launch preparations and ongoing 
damage control throughout the Engineering spaces. “Then you’ll 
hear some noise!”
     Fowler noted Genie logging the time for warm-up on a whiteboard 
next to the repeater console. He also noted Genie cheating by a few 
minutes. No one had to tell him that they didn’t have the time for a 
full blown warm-up.
     They turned over control of the turbines to the Main Engine AI, 
affectionately known as ‘Mother’ through some obscure reference to a 
science fiction horror movie from the 20th. Mother would run the 
HEPLAR engines and the related Reaction Control System thrusters 
as necessary to propel the ship as directed by the Bridge.
     Milo was hoping Mother wouldn’t take after another certain 
science fiction movie computer named HAL... The way things were 
going, he wouldn’t have been surprised to have Mother start calling him 
‘Dave’. As it stood, Mother’s calm, almost sexy voice reminded him 
that the full warm up time for the compression turbines had not been 
met.
     Milo gave her orders to continue anyway. Mother clucked once in 
a tone of disappointment Milo was sure some Robotech engineering 
clown had likely programmed to make the operator feel guilty about 
violating operating procedures. As the Top Watch in the middle of 
an emergency, Milo had the authority to do so -he would have to 
answer for it later, but he had the authority. Lochland might chew 
his ass but that would be the worst of it -provided nothing broke...



                       *       *       *



     SDF-1 shook as another volley of something rocked the ship. 
The last twenty minutes had been a frenzy of activity, but through 
it all the blasts and the shakes had been reminder that the other battle 
was still joined somewhere outside the ship.
     “T-Minus two minutes to lift-off!” Lochland announced over the 
2MC. “All Top Watches and Section Leaders report status of Main 
and Auxiliary propulsion systems!”
     Milo gave the nod to Stick, who had picked the wrong time to 
show his face and was gigged for phone-talker duty. Stick relayed 
Reflex Four’s readiness to Central.
     The Main and Booster Compression turbines rumbled in the near 
subsonic as they rolled at their warm-up speed of 1200 RPM. The 
sound drowned out even the bass drone of the alien Reflex Furnace 
just forward of them. If you strayed too close to the drive motors, 
you would find that any ferrous metal on your person was now 
magnetized.
     “Stand by for priming burn!” Lochland announced.
     Milo looked to Stick and Fowler, who were waiting. They had 
never done anything more than a priming burn on the engines. Genie 
gave them a ‘thumbs up’ from his console. Indicators jumped and 
shifted as the turbines ramped up to 4500 RPM. Outside the SDF-1,
massive louvers yawned fully open.
     The engines began to howl as thousands of tons of air per second 
began to rush through the three inch thick titanium ducting that 
spanned fifty feet in diameter. The ship shifted slightly on the ruined 
keel blocks as the very force of exhaust air beneath the ship began 
to exert itself.
     “Priming burn in five... four... three... two... one... mark! 
Commence priming burn!”
     Louvers internal to the ship flung wide with massive thuds, 
directing a portion of the air over the heat exchangers for the 
conventional 1000 MW fusion reactors that made up SDF-1’s 
High Energy PLAsma Rockets. A sharp *crack* echoed throughout 
the space as helium plasma belched forth from the containment 
vessel and into the engine chambers.
     A geyser of steam and blinding motes of plasma wreathed the 
ship as the priming burn seared the interior of the engines with 
million degree heat. SDF-1 shifted once again on the keel blocks.
     “Stand by all sections to raise ship!” This time it was Claudia 
Grant’s voice over the 1MC. Lochland repeated the order on the 
2MC from central.
     “We’re ready when you are, dear!” Fowler called to the 
cavernous ceiling.
     “Hang on, gents!” Milo added.
     “Lift off in ten seconds...niner...eight...” Claudia began counting 
down. Genie checked his panel once again, searching for the red 
alarm light or the amber warning indicator because the engine noise 
was getting too loud to hear the audible alarms.
     “Seven...six...fiver...”
     “Commencing final power ramp!” Genie announced.
     The Main Compression turbines spun up to full speed -7500 
RPM. The deck plates thundered with the subsonics. Massive 
hydraulic suspension systems flexed and groaned as the turbines 
began to shift on their mounts.
     “Here’s hopin’ we don’t blow up,” Fowler toasted them with 
his coffee mug.
     “Three...two...one...Ignition! Full thrust!” Claudia cried.
     SDF-1’s HEPLAR engines blowtorched a Niagara of 
incandescent blue-white flame. Helium plasma mixed with 
superheated air from the turbines and formed a column of lift 
that suspended the battlefortress a few meters off the ground. 
Environmental GCS took over from there, stabilizing the ship. 
Mother, linked to the Astrogation and Flight Control AIs, began 
sequencing burns to raise the ship.
     The noise was beyond deafening, it was numbing. What was 
thousands of tons per second became hundreds of thousands of tons 
of air per second howling through the ducting and into the turbines. 
Several decks below them were the actual HEPLAR drives. Their 
furious screams shrilled above the din and coupled with the occasional 
heavy sound as something big was caught in the FOD traps and blown 
out of the ship with some of the bypassed compression air.
     SDF-1 began to rise faster and faster above Macross Island.
     “This pig flies!” Fowler yelled.
     “We aren’t in orbit yet!” Bolt-neck yelled back. “So shut the fuck 
up and stop jinxing us!”
     Genie watched with pride as the turbines lifted the ship. He had a 
cool hand on the console and an intuitive sense about the ship’s 
systems. The ship seemed to speak to him, although not in the way 
it was rumored the ship talked to Doctor Lang.
     SDF-1 continued to accelerate, though with the environmental GCS 
system providing inertial dampening, the ride was much like a slow 
elevator that bumped occasionally. Engine noise began to die away as 
they rose out of the troposphere. At last Mother secured the intake 
louvers and the turbines began winding down. SDF-1 rose on pure 
plasma from the reactors now.
     “Commencing cool-down to 1200 RPM,” Genie announced. 
     “We in space yet?” Stick asked.
     “Not yet,” Milo replied. “Just too high up for the atmosphere to 
do the engines much good. In the meantime you can secure the phones 
and start helping Jefe and Bulkhead look for air leaks.”
     Stick looked downcast. “Aye.”
     “And secure the attitude,” Fowler snorted. “Nubs aren’t authorized 
to have ‘em.”
     Stick aye-aye’d again and went to find Jefe. 
     “One of these days he’ll start pullin’ his own weight around here,” 
Fowler remarked to Milo. 
     “I hope so, Rod. Something tells me we’re going to need every 
warm body we have to get through this.”
     “At least the shooting stopped,” Genie observed.
     “For as long as that lasts,” Fowler shot back. “I don’t think anyone 
who came God knows how many light years to fight us is going to just 
let us go after one battle.”
     “Maybe we stomped the shit out of them out there,” Genie returned.
     “What are the chances of *that* happening...”
     “We’re doomed,” Doomsday said then, true to form.
     “Okay, cut the shit,” Milo interjected. “Talk like that isn’t doing 
us any good. You know the drill: watch your spaces, keep on the 
lookout for anything abnormal, and sit tight. We’re in space now, 
who knows what can happen.”
     SDF-1 continued it’s climb into Low Earth Orbit.



                       *       *       *



     SDF-1 had secured it’s vertical HEPLAR drives, and now used 
the Main Engines to push itself into a higher orbit to rendezvous 
with the surviving UEG Spacefleet. Rumors continued to drift through 
the spaces about what was going on.
     “How goes the chow chain?” Milo asked Genie.
     The blonde haired young man shrugged. “Okay I guess. Most 
of us have cycled through. I’m waiting for Jefe to get back and relieve 
me, then when I’m done I relieve Bulkhead.”
     “As long as we get through the chow chain before the link up,” 
Milo said grimly. “We’re gonna be pretty busy for that.”
     Genie nodded. SDF-1 was to rendezvous with the rest of the UEG 
spacefleet -whatever had survived anyway. They would transfer the 
wounded from the other ships to SDF-1, and the Supply Department 
would rearm the fleet’s expendable munitions stores. Unbeknownst 
to the general populace, SDF-1 carried several thousand nuclear 
warheads and their necessary delivery systems on board. 
     Despite the UEG’s propaganda to the contrary, SDF-1 was meant 
to be a weapon against the Anti-Unification movement in the event 
that any more blatant acts of terrorism occurred (such as what 
destroyed the Mars Sara base.) Such acts would be dealt with using 
whatever force was deemed necessary. SDF-1 was the UEG’s big 
stick, the thing that kept the ruling junta in power.
     “What do you think is going on out there?” Genie asked. There 
hadn’t been much word through the rumormill, other than what had 
passed from the flight decks. Stories of mecha shaped like giant 
headless ostriches and street to street fighting in Macross City 
reminiscent of old war movies mostly.
     “Dunno. Maybe they’re just sussing us out right now. Figuring 
out their next move.”
     “Wish they’d get on with it. One way or another. The wait’s 
driving me crazy.”
     Rod Fowler’s pressure-suited form appeared through the airtight 
door, faceplate up. He had his usual smart-ass grin on his face.
     “Cold cuts and instant soup,” he informed them. “You wanna eat?”
He asked Wassermann.
     “Not hungry,” Milo replied.
     “What, the chow isn’t good enough for your last meal? Does the 
condemned have any other requests?”
     “Knock it off, Rod. If we’re so doomed we would have bought it 
on Macross Island.”
     “Maybe they’re just playing with us,” Rod supposed. “When they 
get bored they’ll take us out.”
     Milo’s return was cut off by LCDR Lisa Hayes’ voice on the 1MC.
     “All sections stand by for Docking Operations. Report all exceptions 
to Condition Alfa to Damage Control Central. Medical Evacuation 
teams will remain in their primary staging areas until ordered otherwise.”
     “While we sit tight down here and wait,” Milo observed.



                      *       *       *



     SDF-1 was beginning its final maneuver burns to position it with 
the rest of the UEG Spacefleet when the first salvos of laser and 
particle beam fire from the alien guns came blistering in. Down in 
the bowels of the ship, the arrival was met with strident alarms and 
the vituperative oaths of the snipes as they went back on self-seal.
The chorus of hisses from dozens of air supply umbilicals plugging 
into manifold connections filled the spaces.
     A deathbolt struck the ship somewhere forward and above 
Reflex Four. The actual sound of the beam spending itself against 
the superhard Robotech alloy was a torturous scream vibrating 
through the hull and structural members of the ship. Men and 
women cast furtive looks above themselves as the eery screams 
announced themselves without warning, faded, and died away as 
receding echoes. There were no physical shock to these blasts, 
which made them even more phantasmal and unsettling to 
listen to.
     “Must be a hell of a light show,” Genie remarked through 
his faceplate mic.
     “That shit gives me the creeps,” Bolt-Neck replied from across 
the catwalk. He pointed to the overhead as another beam splashed 
across the hull. He was lugging a depressurized foam hose, flaking it 
out for use if needed. “I keep waiting for one to breach the hull and 
suck us all out.”
     “Cheery thoughts like that keep me warm at night,” Rod said.
     Something solid struck the hull, like a great wave of force rolling 
over the ship from starboard to port. SDF-1 rumbled in protest and 
the lights flickered momentarily. Alarms chirped at indicator panels 
and then went silent. Men got back to their feet and searched for 
something solid to hold on to.
     “What the fuck was that?” Someone cursed.
     “Beats the hell out of me, but I hope it doesn’t happen again,” 
another replied.
     Another wave of force rolled over the ship. SDF-1 shook even 
more violently. Piping and cable runs jumped in their support hangers, 
knocking paint chips and dust free to float in the still air of the 
sealed compartment.
     Milo looked to Genie, who was monitoring the Reflex Furnace. 
Genie gave him a ‘thumbs up.’ Apparently the designers of the ship 
had expected the components to suffer this kind of abuse and designed 
them with the appropriate durability. The human-made components 
were another case. Milo was waiting for another fire to break out at 
any second.
     “Keep a close look out, folks,” he ordered.
     Claudia Grant’s voice over the 1MC followed hot on his words.
     “Attention all hands. Priority! Fold System standby! Readying 
energy at maximum-green from all power sources!”
     Lochland repeated the announcement on the 2MC and added, 
“All Reflex Top Watches stand by for high level transients.”
     “Jumping Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick!” Rod cried. “They’re 
gonna fold this pig?!”
     “You heard the lady,” Milo barked. “Prepare for Fold Operations!”
     Forward of Reflex Four lay the Fold System Compartment. 
The crew could already hear the enigmatic engines warming up with 
ominous whines and deep bass rumbles. 
     “All hands to Fold Stations! All hands to Fold Stations! This is 
*not* a drill! I say again: this is *not* a drill! Prepare for Fold 
Operation in T-Minus five minutes and counting -mark!” Hayes 
added over the 1MC. 
     “Like we’d be runnin’ drills in the middle of a fuckin’ war!” 
Rod groused. 
     “We’re doomed,” Doomsday added thoughtfully.
     “More walk, less talk,” Milo said tersely. They had to sweep 
the compartment for loose gear (which was everywhere and mostly 
damage control equipment no-one wanted to part with given the 
present circumstances.)
     The Reflex Furnaces began to ramp up to maximum power, 
feeding whatever animating energies they generated into the Fold 
Generators. Massive Robotech power conduits came alight in a 
wash of colors and sparkling motes over the heads of the crew. 
Reflex Four was bathed in a golden light.
     “Do you hear that?” Genie asked Milo in the midst of the 
chaos.
     “Hear what?” Milo replied, expecting the worst.
     “It’s weird. It almost sounds like music.”
     Milo looked around, straining his ears against the cacophony.
     “I don’t hear anything.”
     Genie shrugged. He could certainly hear something. “maybe 
it’s just me.”
     “Mind your panel, Genie.”
     “Aye.”
     Lochland ordered the HEPLAR compression turbines brought 
back up on line over the 2MC. In the middle of the fold preparations 
it was an order that drew shouts of frustration as crew dropped 
what they were doing to ready the vertical HEPLAR engines. 
SDF-1 began to vibrate as it fired braking thrust and descended into 
the atmosphere.
     “We’re going *down* to fold?” Rod asked over the din. “Excuse 
me, but does this make sense to anyone?”
     “Gloval must have his reasons,” Milo countered. He was busy 
supervising the Reflex Furnace, the fold preparations, and the readying 
of the HEPLAR engines.
     “Oh sure Wassermann, that kind of thinking will do us a lot of 
fucking good.”
     “Rod, get below and help Doomsday and Bolt-Neck with the 
warmups.”
     Fowler aye-aye’d and went below, grumbling about how Stick 
had conveniently disappeared when there was more work to be 
done.
     The Fold Generators added an octave of pitch to their growing 
shrill of activity. The fold had not technically begun, and already 
strange distortions of light and sound were flowing through the 
Engineering Spaces. It was another reminder that what they were 
attempting had never been done by the people of Earth.
     From the Bridge, Claudia Grant had been giving constant 
countdown updates and issuing orders over the 1MC. Now she 
came into the final phase of the count.
     “We will enter fold in ten seconds... niner... eight...”
     The crew counted down with her as the Fold Generators reached 
a crescendo of sound and light. The Reflex Furnaces were at full 
output, thrumming mightily in bass refrain. Columns of light and 
power coursed through the spaces. Crewmen with fillings in their 
teeth or pins in their bones could feel them vibrate and shrill with 
the Fold System. 
     “Execute hyperspace fold-jump!” It was Captain Henri Gloval 
himself whose voice thundered over the 1MC.
     Lochland’s repeat of the order on the 2MC went unheard as 
the SDF-1 lurched abruptly and the world went into blurry double-
exposure. Shifting bands of reds, oranges, and yellows bled mirage-
like off of equipment. Sounds and even what might have been voices 
echoed throughout the ship without any apparent sources. 
     Elvis cried out in panic at something unseen by the rest of the 
crew of Reflex Four. Incandescent motes of light swirled around 
them as the Fold System’s shrill dirge became overpowering. Milo 
found himself retching at his workstation from the sudden nausea 
that hit him without warning.
     Time and space ceased to have relative meaning as forces 
hitherto unknown by human beings twisted and, well, folded them 
into higher dimensional geometries of existence. More phantasmal 
images slipped around them. Rod Fowler and Elvis swore they saw 
a handsome red clad Welsh buccaneer step by them, cutlass in one 
hand, and tall bottle of rum in the other, searching for a JA-circuit 
telephone in response to the equally unlikely 2MC message “Captain 
Morgan, sir; JA...”
     Just as abruptly as the universe had been tipped on its side, it 
righted itself. The Reflex Furnaces stood down to their lowest idle 
settings. Lights went out, and the ship became deathly silent.
     “Is it over?” A voice asked.
     “Did we make it?” Someone else added.
     “I don’t feel dead,” Fowler cracked from below. Emergency 
lights flicked on.
     Milo weakly pulled himself up from the deck. He had dry heaved 
until he was trembling. Now the nausea was gone, replaced by the 
queasy stirrings of internal organs he’d thought were about to exit
his body through his mouth.
     “Status of the Reflex Furnace?” He croaked to Genie.
     Genie pulled himself to his feet. He checked the displays.
     “Two percent power; currently in a ‘self-sustaining only’ mode.”
     “Get it back on line,” Milo ordered weakly. “If you can.”
     “Trying. The whole power system seems to be down, Robotech 
*and* conventional.”
     “That means no MC announcements,” Milo realized. “Where’s 
Stick?”
     “Here,” Stick yelped. He was cringing under a coolant pipe. 
     “Man the phones with Central.”
     For once Stick was glad to have a phone-talker job. It meant he 
wouldn’t have to move around.
     “Okay,” Milo began. “Let’s check around for damage or injured 
personnel. After that we’ll sit tight until we find out what happened 
and what’s going on.”
     The loud whoop of the Collision Alarm, of all things, sounded. 
It was followed by, “Emergency! Emergency! Prepare for impact! 
Prepare for impact!”
     “It can wait!” Milo cried, grabbing onto the speed-rail.
     SDF-1 plowed into the remains of Macross City, sloughing 
through buildings like paper mache. The unprepared were flung 
around like dolls. The ship heaved and shook as the underpowered 
inertial dampers tried to stabilize it. The lights went out yet again 
as the battlefortress heaved to a halt and was still yet again.
     Milo picked himself off the deck once more.
     “Okay, *now* go check for damage and injured personnel.”
     Even as he said the words into his commo mic, the first cries 
were already pouring in.
     “Fire in Reflex Four Lower Level! Fire from the Auxiliary 
Compressor Control Panel!”
     “Fire in Reflex Four Switchgear! Fire in the switchgear!”
     “Coolant rupture in Reflex Four Middle Level! Coolant 
rupture in Middle Level!”
     “Injured man in Reflex Four Forward!”
     And the most chilling cry of all was heard over the all-stations 
channel...
   


     “The Fold System...! ...It’s gone!!!”




                          END OF EPISODE THREE





--------------------------SNIPE’S GLOSSARY------------------------------

The terms and acronyms found in Snipes may be alien and confusing 
for non-snipes. I hope this glossary helps clear things up a bit. If 
there are any other terms or expressions which you don’t understand and 
that I have missed here, please email me so that I may include the term 
in the next glossary installment.

1MC- Ship’s General Announcing circuit. A PA system that can be 
heard throughout the SDF-1. 1MC microphones can be found on the 
Bridge, in Central, and scattered throughout the ship at key control 
stations. 

2MC- Engineering General Announcing circuit. A PA system that 
can be heard throughout the Engineering spaces, the Bridge, and other 
key controlling stations. Doctor Lang also has a speaker in his quarters.
2MC microphones can be found throughout the engineering spaces, 
the Bridge, and Central. The Engineering Officer Of the Watch 
(EOOW) repeats all 1MC announcements over the 2MC.

ABT- Automatic Bus Transfer. A mechanism which senses available 
power from several sources, and will shift equipment to be powered 
from whatever source is available if the primary source is lost. 
Depending on the ABT, there may be a brief interruption of power. 
Another technique used by DC power systems is called ‘auctioneering’ 
which allows a constant source of DC power without interruption if 
one source is lost.

AI- Artificial Intelligence. An electronic/photonic computer with 
logic circuits patterned after human neural systems that enable the 
computer to react, adapt, and learn like a living organism.

ALUCE- Advanced LUnar Chemical Engineering. A moon base founded 
to tap the resources of the moon for human development into space. 
The SDF-1’s reaction mass fuel was being prepared here for the ship’s 
maiden voyage.

Central- The central controlling station for Engineering aboard SDF-1. 
The EOOW stands his watch here. Think of Central as a separate 
‘Bridge’ for the Engineering spaces.

Chow Chain- Battlestations or other evolutions which involve most 
of the crew can last for many hours. There are not enough free crewmen 
to relieve watchstanders or maintenance/repair techs, so in order to feed 
them, the ‘chow chain’ is started. Whoever is free will go to the mess 
decks and eat (quickly), then return and relieve someone so they can eat. 
That person will return and relieve someone else until everyone has a 
chance to eat and everyone is back at their original posts. 

EOOW- (Spoken “EE-ow”) Engineering Officer Of the Watch. The 
officer in charge of the engineering spaces. Supervises watchstanders 
and monitors evolutions in progress. Answers directly to the Officer 
Of the Deck. Typically a Senior Lieutenant or higher under normal 
circumstances. At Battlestations, Commander Lochland, who is the 
Assistant Engineer, will act as EOOW.

FOD- Foreign Object Damage. Damage caused to turbine blading and 
other engine systems by introduction of foreign matter into the engine.
Also the term for objects on a flight deck or runway which have the 
potential for getting sucked into an engine and causing damage.

FUBAR- Fucked Up Beyond All Repair. A step beyond TARFU, 
now things are really ugly...

GCS- Gravity Control System. Use of special gravitic field generators 
for the ship’s propulsion and for ‘artificial gravity’ and inertial 
dampening to protect ship and crew from high stress maneuvers. 
SDF-1’s propulsion GCS system was crippled upon initial activation. 
The environmental GCS system continues to function normally.

“Gigged”- ‘Volunteered’ for some duty or chore. Typically a case 
of pissing someone off or being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

HEPLAR- High Energy PLAsma Rocket. Magnetically accelerated 
plasma reaction mass propulsion system. SDF-1 has a ‘horizontal’ 
drive for acceleration/deceleration in space or in an atmosphere, a 
‘vertical’ drive for take off/landings, and numerous smaller drives 
for maneuvering/attitude control. 

NUB (also ‘Nub’)- Non Useful Body. A junior member of the crew 
who doesn’t know anything and is not qualified to do anything. Nubs 
are usually given shit jobs or made gofers because they are incapable 
of doing anything useful like stand watches or perform the more 
involved maintenance jobs or repairs. A nub’s primary duty aboard 
ship is to learn something and then get qualified to do it.

Qualified- What all nubs aspire to be. In order to stand a watch or 
use a special piece of equipment, a crewman must demonstrate his 
knowledge and proficiency to perform that task. Nub engineering 
types receive a large book filled with blank spaces for signatures. 
Each signature blank is filled in by a qualified operator after giving 
the nub a knowledge check for the system or casualty procedure 
or whatever the nub is trying to prove he/she has learned. There 
are also signature blanks (often abbreviated to 'sigs' in the story) 
for practical factors such as performing an evolution or participating 
in a casualty drill. At the end of a nub's qualification process, he/she 
will take a written exam, then a series of interviews with his/her 
supervisors. The last interview will be with the Chief Engineer (or 
Lochland, as Lang is usually busy elsewhere.) The Chief Engineer 
decides if the operator is 'qualified' to stand the watch or operate 
the equipment, and logs him into a list of 'Qualified Watchstanders.'
Watch sections are made up of people on the list to fill the various 
positions, with whatever nubs are available assigned as 'under-
instruction' watches to learn their jobs and get qualified.

SNAFU- Situation Normal, All Fucked Up. The typical condition 
describing the circumstances, equipment, material, and crew aboard 
ship.

TARFU- Things Are Really Fucked Up. A step beyond SNAFU, 
the ‘normal’ condition of the ship. TARFU means things are worse 
than usual. 

Top Watch- The senior enlisted supervisory watch in a compartment 
or series of compartments. Also known as ‘Top.’ The Top Watch 
will usually answer to another supervisor in the spaces, and ultimately 
to the EOOW.

UEG- United Earth Government. The UEG has nominal control over 
most of the planet following the SDF-1’s arrival, and the subsequent 
end of the Global Civil War. It is little more than a self-serving junta 
of military leaders and powerful political figures who are using the 
threat of alien attack to stay in power and implement their policies 
on the world.


--------------------------RANK SYSTEM---------------------------------

The crew of the SDF-1 use a naval ranking system. Mecha pilots 
may take a naval or army ranking system depending on what 
branch of the military they were in when the aliens arrived. 

Enlisted Ranks: (In ascending order)

Recruit (R)-Lowest rank. A recruit either in or just out of boot camp.
Recruits wear one narrow diagonal stripe on their left sleeve.

Apprentice (A)- After six months as a recruit, he/she is advanced 
to this rank. Apprentices wear two narrow diagonal stripes on their left 
sleeve.

Able Spaceman (AS)- After nine months as an apprentice, he/she is 
advanced to Able Spaceman. They wear three narrow diagonal 
stripes on their left sleeve.

Petty Officer Third Class (PO3)- An Able Spaceman who is trained 
in a specific rating may take a test to advance to PO3 in his rating. 
PO3 marks the beginning of the non-commissioned officer ranks.
Most junior enlisted are PO3s. Wears an RDF ‘fighting kite’ with 
a rating specialty badge and one chevron underneath it on the sleeve 
or as a collar insignia. Stick is an example of a junior PO3; still 
inexperienced and non-qualified, Elvis and Bolt-Neck are examples 
of more experienced and qualified PO3s.

Petty Officer Second Class (PO2)- PO2s are usually the backbone 
of a work center or watch section’s technical base and workforce. 
PO2s and PO3s make things happen aboard the SDF-1. Wears two 
chevrons in addition to the ‘kite’ and specialty badge. Guys like 
Rod, Genie, and Doomsday run the ship. 

Petty Officer First Class (PO1)- PO1s are usually the supervisors
for a work detail or watch section. A senior PO1 in a work center 
is also known as the ‘Leading First’. The Leading First handles 
the day to day management of his work center. Wears three 
chevrons. Milo Wassermann is a good example of a Leading First.

Chief Petty Officer (CPO)- Chief Petty Officers form the first
of the senior enlisted management ranks. Chiefs usually handle the 
administrative duties of a work center and provide technical 
expertise for unusual maintenance or repairs. Chiefs also train 
the junior officers to be effective leaders and managers. Chiefs 
wear three chevrons and a ‘rocker’ across the top chevron, or wear 
a fouled anchor emblazoned with ‘RDF’ on the collars.

Senior Chief Petty Officer (SCPO)- Basically a more experienced Chief
Petty Officer. Usually referred to in conversation as “Senior” rather 
than “Senior Chief.” Senior Chiefs sport a single silver star above 
their Chief’s insignia.

Master Chief Petty Officer (MCPO)- Highest ranking enlisted man. 
Master Chiefs assist Department Heads in running their departments, 
and one Master Chief (known as the Command Master Chief) will 
in fact act as a personal liaison to the Commanding Officer (through 
the Executive Officer) for the enlisted crew. Master Chiefs sport two 
silver stars above their Chief’s insignia.

--------------Officer Ranks: (In ascending order)-----------------------

Midshipman (MID)- Lowest of the low. The naval equivalent of the 
Third Lieutenant rank found in Robotech. Midshipmen are fresh out 
of the academy or from a ‘ninety day wonder’ Officer Candidate 
School. They are given no respect, not even from the enlisted ranks.
Snipes eat these guys for lunch, as the Midshipmen must come to 
them for qualification checks and to learn about the engineering 
systems that they might one day qualify EOOW. Wears one silver 
ring on the collar or cuff of the sleeve. A long bar is worn across the 
right (or left) breast of the jacket.

Ensign (ENS)- Midshipman who survive six months as middies are 
advanced to ensign. Other than that, there isn’t much difference in 
knowledge, skill, or experience. Basically pond scum. Wears a gold 
ring on the collar or cuff of the sleeve.

Junior Lieutenant (JLT)- Only slightly higher than pond scum. A JLT 
gets his pips by staying alive long enough to meet the one year 
requirement as an ensign. JLTs are put in charge of work centers.
Usually this means the Chief runs things until the officer figures 
things out. Wears one silver pip on the collar or sleeve.

Senior Lieutenant (SLT)- SLTs actually know something. This makes 
them dangerous. SLTs as a rule make good division officers because 
they have learned how a work center works and have a little more 
clout and experience in pushing the administrative issues of getting 
work done. Wears two silver pips on the collar or sleeve.

Lieutenant Commander (LCDR)- Act as Department Heads or as 
assistants to Department Heads if the department is large. Wears one 
gold pip on the collar or sleeve. May command mecha squadrons.

Commander (CDR)- Act as Department Heads aboard SDF-1. Wears 
two gold pips on the collar or sleeve. A commander’s presence in 
a non-controlling space (i.e. not the Bridge or Central) requires that 
“attention on deck” be called and that all personnel stop what they 
are doing and snap to attention until told to “carry on” by the officer.
A long bar and a short bar are worn across the jacket.

Captain (CAPT)- Usually serves as a Department Head of a very 
large department, a staff aid, or as the Commanding Officer (In Gloval’s
case.) Like a commander, “attention on deck” must be called when 
a captain appears. Wears three gold pips on the collar or sleeve. Two 
bars across the chest of the jacket are also worn.