breathing in a vacuum, Book 2, section 2:
   "Setting a Stage"

[Author's crap to follow]

Pt. 2-2

 Jonah Fitzroy stared out at space, feeling the ebon void's call for the
trillionth time in his short life. Short, compared to the ages of the
distant suns he steered by, the massive planet that filled the rear
portion of his view and the rocks and dust that passed by his ship. Once
again he wished he was with the SDF-3, seeing those distant suns from up
close.
 A beep sounded from inside his helmet, signaling an incoming
communication. He checked the source with a glance at the HUD and
instructed the computer to take it.
 �What can I do for you, Mr. Fisher?�
 �Just wondering why you�ve been standing like a statue on the hull of
the Damocles for the last hour,� Fisher said in a reasonable voice. �Not
something my previous CO�s did.�
 �I doubt any of your previous CO�s were on board SDF-1,� Jonah replied
in a tired voice. Fisher was proving to be a remarkable leader, much to
his own chagrin. �Its just something I do to relax, Dan. I�ve always
loved the stars�� he trailed off as the Shrike revealed itself from the
pinpricks of light behind it.
 �That�s what I�m doing right now,� Fisher told his captain, barrel
rolling until he hit the burners and faded from view, just another star
in the cosmos.
 Crumpled in Jonah�s hand was a printed copy of a Priority Red
communication, just decoded and handed to the Captain as per Priority
Red regulations. Jonah opened his hand gently, and watched, observing
the little whisps of frozen water extricate themselves from the paper.
It could have been a thousand year old papyrus scroll by the end of a
minute. With one last glance at the document he swatted it to into the
void and turned towards the airlock. He had work to do.

 Naiomi Richards was used to surprises. She had grown up with her family
on the Moon Colonies, moving there with the first batch of civilian
residents allowed into the habitats. From there she had traveled the
inner system as a technician, communications officer and waitress,
covering more ground during this time than all of the human beings alive
during the history of earth. At least that was the story she told at
parties, carefully overlooking the SDF 3 and the REF�s travels.
 But walking into what she considered her hangar and seeing a bunch of
techs working on her planes was a bit of a shock. None of the normal
techs were in the hangar, but six men were in the process of working on
Daniel Fisher�s Shrike. The undercarriage and ventral missile bay were
completely dissassembled, and some strange object was being inserted
into the mountings where the missile bay had been.
 �Can I help you miss?� a man asked her, dragging her attention away
from the scene unfolding before her.
 �What the hell is going on here?� she asked the man, one of the few
people on the Damocles that she couldn�t recognize. �Who are those
people?�
 �Technicians from the contractors who developed the Shrike. They�re
making some modifications. Unfortunately, I need to ask you to leave, as
most of this work is still classified.�
 Naomi could tell when someone wanted her to gone, and decided not to
push the issue. But she caught sight of the Captain, Lt. Winters and Dan
in the midst of a conversation at the rear of Shrike 1. Strange, she
thought, very strange.

 Daniel sat in his room, resting his head in his hands. His brow was
furrowed as if a great weight pressed down on his back. Daniel�s gaze
shifted from his floor to the readout on his computer screen. Abruptly
he turned to the keyboard, banishing the document to his hard drive and
opening his email program.
 �Dear Sakura,� he began, �I feel as if I�ve just left. My time here on
the Damocles has been fascinating. I�ve lead the fighter squadron
through a battle, organized them into a unit and accomplished what was
taught to me onboard the Vendetta. But I still feel empty.
 �I realize now that flying was the only reason I joined up, and that I
am not cut out for command. On this tour I�ve felt empty because I
haven�t had you here with me. I guess what I�m asking is your hand in
marriage. I want you with me, helping me deal with the pressures of war.
That�s what it is, Sakura, don�t let them fool you with the press
releases and spin doctoring.
 �Well, now that I�ve scared you off, feel free to write me a letter
detailing how you aren�t interested and would rather never see me again.
I just needed to get it off my chest in case I don�t come-�
 Daniel deleted the last line and signed it. After he sent it, he
reopened the first document and stared at the order handed down to him.

 He strode into the lab as he always did. One second he was no where to
be seen and the next he was there, his presence casting a shadow on the
entire room. There was something different in the lab, he thought as he
strolled towards Dr. Williams, smelling the desparation that she gave
off.
 As he glanced down at the doctor he realized she was finished. It was
written on her face, in her body language, in the way she flinched away
from his every movement. Pandora was finished, Alpha thought.
 Every fiber of his being rejoiced at the news. Twenty years of living
hell were coming to a close, and he would finally have his revenge on
his father and mother. Alpha closed his eyes for a brief second,
savoring the sense of accomplishment that filled him.
 He pushed Nina out of the way and began working on the computer station
in front of him.
 �What are you-� Nina began, but he silenced her with a glance.
 He tore through the shells under which Nina had tried to hide Pandora,
through the passwords and misreported files until he reached it: Pandora
stared at him in full 3-d, looking lethal even on a computer screen.
 �Out the airlock with her,� he said simply to the two guards by the
door. �Have some fun if you�d like.�
 The gasp he heard escape Nina�s lips was reward enough for the Orbital
Ring Engagement. He smiled again and watched Pandora make its lethal
revolution again and again.

 The Damocles glided into position a half million kilometers from the
Zentradi Warship. Passive optic sensors sweeped the vessel, categorizing
and scanning the ship. Less than sixty percent of the ship matched the
design schematics of the Zentradi War Cruiser Thirst for Victory. The
rest was a ten-year-old kludge of after market turrets, rebreathers and
sensor assemblies. She was five times the Damocles� length, and nearly
two orders of magnitude greater in volume. Most of her airlocks were
still sized for full size Zentradi and several of the giants could be
seen walking across the hull on repairs.
 �I�ve seen enough,� one of the pilots from Beta said, �I�d say we can
go home now.�
 �Very funny,� Dan replied, glancing at a crumpled piece of paper in his
hand. �We�ve got one mission and one mission only here: we make one pass
with full sensors double back and lead the fighters away from the
Damocles. Then we ditch the fighters in the trail of Comet 1-34b, and
sneak our way back to the Damocles. Everyone understand?�
 Daniel ignored the general assent and stared at the new MFD that graced
the center of his cockpit. It was slaved to the thing that replaced his
ventral missile bay. He briefly remembered the conversation with the
technician who explained to him how it worked. He shivered slightly at
the thought of it.
 The new MFD�s weren�t the only additions to the Shrikes. External
stores had been added in slim pods that wrapped around the razor thin
wings of the Shrikes. They contained a pair of ship killers each, one
above the wing and one below, giving the Shrikes a great deal more bite
in close with the Thirst for Victory.
 �Gentlemen, start your engines,� came the command from the Flight Deck
controller. Daniel flicked his engines on, and switched the MFD to
flight mode.
 �Good luck, Shrike flight,� Daniel heard on the Tac Com channel.
 �Thanks,� Dan said, returning to stare at the crumpled order. Wesley
you cold bastard, he thought angrily as his hands stuffed the order into
one of his flight suit�s pockets. Then he was to busy to think of
anything but launching.

 On the Damocles� bridge, Wesley watched the departing lights of the
Shrike flight through the tactical sensor feeds before the stealthy
fighters disappeared from the optical sensors and all they had was the
coded, subtle transponders. He felt none of the rage Daniel felt over
the orders, which Jonah had shared with them on the flight deck as the
Shrikes were being refitted. He felt very little these days, past duty.
 He poked his head up as he heard the bridge�s doors open. It was
Joshua, the doctor. Unusual, he thought, for the doctor to not be in
sickbay during a combat situation. He shrugged it off as the data feed
began to stream in from the Shrikes as they closed in on the massive
Zentradi vessel.
 �Captain,� Jonah heard from behind him.
 �Joshua,� he replied, his tired voice telling Joshua all he needed to
know about his friend�s mood. �What can I do for you.�
 �I came up here to apologize,� the doctor said softly, almost unheard
above the growing din of communication between bridge officers.
 �For what?� Jonah said, swiveling his chair from the main screen to
face his friend. And staring down the barrel of an antique chrome .45
automatic.

 On Earth, a computer in Tokyo displayed an email. A pair of feminine
hands double tapped at the subjectless message, displaying its contents
on the screen.
  ��Dear Sakura,�� she began, ��I feel as if I�ve just left. My time
here on the Damocles has been fascinating. I�ve lead the fighter
squadron through a battle, organized them into a unit and accomplished
what was taught to me onboard the Vendetta. But I still feel empty.
 ��I realize now that flying was the only reason I joined up, and that I
am not cut out for command. On this tour I�ve felt empty because I
haven�t had you here with me. I guess what I�m asking is your hand in
marriage.�� Sakura�s voice broke suddenly. ��I want you with me, helping
me deal with the pressures of war. That�s what it is, Sakura, don�t let
them fool you with the press releases and spin doctoring.
 ��Well, now that I�ve scared you off, feel free to write me a letter
detailing how you aren�t interested and would rather never see me
again.�� The last words came out in a half sob.
 Sakura�s hand hovered over the reply button, uncertain of what she
could say. She looked at the hand, the silver band around her third
finger marking the official engagement between her and Mokoto. What
could she say? Sorry, Dan, I ran off with someone in the three months
you�ve been gone. Have a good time killing all those Zentradi now that
you have nothing to come home to.
 Or should call it off with Mokoto? Hide away the feelings she felt for
him and ignore the feeling in her heart. How could she decide who she
loved?

Author's drivel/self deprication:
    Okay, there's a love triangle in it. Would it be Robotech otherwise?
There's probably one part (and a possible epilouge) left, so don't
worry, I'm almost done clogging your mailboxes with Robotech fanfiction.

Jerico Mele, Wholly Owned Subsidy of Big Fire Industries, Ltd.