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Its been a long while, but here is the next chapter in my apparent 'battle
Zen for who writes the slowest' Saga...
As always, previous chapters can be found at my website...
--
Starrngr -- Ranger HQ
HTTP://home.talkcity.com/TheSanitarium/Da_Muck/
"You wear a Hawaiian shirt and bring your music on a RUN? No wonder they
call you Howling Mad..." -- Doc' (As Rabid).
-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
-- File: totw2_7f.txt
Even though these things give you about as much legal coverage
as a G-string on a stripper, I am going to include it anyways.
Most of the characters in this story are the property of Harmony
Gold, and a whole lot of other companies who's names escape me at the
moment, and are used without their permission. However, since this
is a not for profit undertaking, I dont think its neccecary to worry
about it. At any rate, I'm so broke suing would be a waste of time.
The few original charecters in here are mine, so please ask before
using them in a fic of your own.
Comments and Criticisms welcome: E-Mail Starrngr@aol.com.
Flames will be promptly filed in file 13 and ignored. Previous
parts of this story can be found at: Ranger HQ:
HTTP://home.talkcity.com/TheSanitarium/Da_Muck/Libr/wndr/
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Tales of the Wanderer: Book 2: Wandering Ace Chapter 7: Bystanders
With the SDF-1 back in space for almost a month, resentment
at being forced off earth had faded, and now had been replaced
with anticipation of Lynn Minmei's first movie release "Little White
Dragon". Once the date of the premier was known, there was much
wheeling and dealing amongst the crew, as everyone tried to
re-arrange their positions on the watch-bill to be able to be there.
Those that succeeded praised their luck, while those who didn't
cursed it, and those who were indifferent cleaned up by offering
to swap... in exchange for something, of course.
One of the handfuls of people who weren't caught up in all the
hoopla looked up from his terminal at his visitor.
"I thought you scored those tickets to try and impress that
bridge officer you were hot on, Max," Muck observed.
"Yeah, but she canceled because I could only get two," Max
admitted. "So, I thought I'd get the skipper out of here and get him
to relax for a while."
"And?"
"And I couldn't get a jeep from the motor pool, so I was kinda
hoping you and Fred could give us a lift. Besides, I have my next
move ready for him."
"Ha!" interrupted a third voice, this one coming from a
speakerphone on the desk. "I bet I know what it is, and its still
mate in six, Max." Max and Fred had hit it off since being
introduced, and Max had decided to teach Fred chess, pointing out
that talking computers ALWAYS knew hot to play chess. Muck had
conceded the point without argument, since it had kept both of them
out of his hair.
Muck had to admit that the last month had been a mixed blessing.
Lang had convinced Capt. Gloval to release Fred from impound, and had
the torn of wheel repaired. He had also received permission
to let Fred tie into the ship's comm net. The downside was
frequently being asked if he could give someone a lift... usually
when he was deep in thought about how to take out a Zentraedi
capitol ship with just Veritechs, like now.
"Ok, you win," he sighed, throwing up his hands in a gesture of
surrender. "Besides I wasn't getting anywhere anyway. Maybe a night
out will help clear my mind."
"Still hung up on the payload problem?" Max inquired.
"Yeah. The models now in production just can't carry enough;
the ship-killers or HARMs (1) take up all the pylons, leaving only
the gun pod for self-defense."
"The new 200 block models have the nose lasers, you know," Max
pointed out as Muck stood up and stretched.
"Yeah, but that's still not enough when the best odds we see is
four to one. Given the attack profile we'd have to use, 400 to one
is more like it; and that makes it suicide without more missiles
for self defense," Muck grimaced as muscles protested and a couple
of joints popped. "I definitely need to get out of here. Let me
change and I'll meet you and the skipper at Fred, ok?"
"You got it, Muck..."
* * * * * * * * *
Macross City, with its roots as a military town even before
its 'relocation', had always been a very orderly place; It's drivers
were as a rule polite and well mannered, with traffic only piling
up as a result of the rare accident. Tonight, however, between
the number of people trying to get into the premier as well as the
street closures to accommodate the limousines for the 'A-list',
traffic was at a virtual stand-still. The three pilots lucked out
when Muck was able to snag a parking spot perhaps six blocks from the
theater, still, Max and Rick found themselves wincing for a moment
as the normally phlegmatic Muck cut off a pair of other cars to claim
it.
"Phulease!!!" protested Muck as the other two let out
exaggerated sighs of relief. "We make a patrol 5 days out of 7, not
counting all hand sorties, get shot at about half the time, then come
home to a carrier landing and you complain about my driving?"
Max chuckled as he got out of the back seat. "Its cause riding
with you gives one a much more intimate view of oncoming disaster,"
the blue haired pilot teased.
"The only thing closer is riding backseat in a Cat's eye," Rick
agreed. "Cause you know you have no control over what the guy at the
stick is doing."
"There was a good 3 inches of clearance. If I thought he wasn't
going to make it, I would have switched to over-ride," Fred's voice
observed from the dashboard.
"Uh huh. And who was it who splattered themselves all over the
hanger deck on arrival?" Max teased.
"That wasn't our fault!" Muck and Fred replied in unison...
"We were still half blind from shooting the portal."
Max chuckled as he got out of Fred. "Yeah, sure you were."
Muck glared at the other two as he came around to the curb,
causing Rick to throw up his hands in mock surrender. "Ok, ok, We
give up. Any idea as to where are you going to be after the show?"
"I dunno... I was thinking about swinging by Close Encounters
for a while."
"Take it easy on him, ok? He was swearing up and down he was
going to make the place off limits to pilots after the last time."
Rick observed.
"Why would he do that? We're some of his best customers."
Muck replied innocently.
"Speak for yourself," Max observed, causing Rick to glare at
him. "Frankie shudders every time he sees me come through the door."
"Ok, skipper," Muck relented. "I think I might head over to the
park and watch the stars for a while."
"You see the stars every time we're out on patrol," Max noted.
"That's work. This is fun," Muck replied.
"Leave the man alone Max," Rick sighed. "If we don't hurry,
we're going to miss the pre-show festivities."
"Aye aye, Skipper," Max agreed jovially.
* * * * * * * * *
Miriya Parino stalked down the nearly empty street, an angry
expression on her face mirroring her inner turmoil. She had been
certain of her ability to get past the large micronian male guarding
the door of the meeting hall, yet he had seemed immune to her facial
contortions. With another defeat at the hands of a micronian,
she was suddenly filled with doubt as to her ability to complete
her self-assigned mission. Had she done the facial contortion
wrong? If she had, how could she remain undetected amongst the
population if she couldn't at least outwardly behave like one of
them? How was she to find her prey if she couldn't get into the
gathering to reward him?
Yet another indignity suddenly inflicted itself upon her; she
was so wrapped up in her inner turmoil that she didn't see the
micronian step out of the doorway until she had collided with him.
The collision knocked her from her feet while her victim had the gall
to remain standing. Furthermore, he didn't even seem to have noticed
her yet; he was looking at his uniform, where the force of their
meeting had caused some sort of brown beverage to slop from the
container in his hand all over him. (2)
"I should have known," the stranger was muttering to himself.
"I finally find a place that makes a decent mocha latte and I get to
wear it instead of drink it." He knocked her from her feet, and now
all he is worried about was that his beverage spilled? To Miriya,
this was one insult to many, and she lunged to her feet, fully
intending to rip out the throat of this insolent micronian with her
bare hands! Her eyes narrowed as her movements finally drew the
micronian's attention, only to open wide in shock as he addressed
her by name?
"Miriya Parino? What are you doing here? I thought you're
supposed to be at the premier this episode..." This revelation
froze her in her tracks, as her mind raced, trying to understand
the implications of it all. How could he know her name? She was
fairly certain that she had mentioned it to no one since her arrival.
Could the micronians know about her mission? Had she compromised
herself somehow? Was she about to be detained? Clearly this
micronian was waiting for an answer, though... perhaps she could yet
escape this trap and continue her mission? She quickly formed an
alternate plan, and instead used a different set of facial
contortions, one that caused liquid to seep from the corners of her
eyes, and based on the historical records she had seen displayed
in certain places tended to cause micronian males to be very
responsive to one's demands. This male also reacted, but not in the
way she expected.
"Oh jeez. Not the tears. Anything but the tears," he sighed,
then grabbed her by the arm, startling her. "Come on. I think I
know how to fix this," he declared, pulling her down the street
before she could figure out how to react. They had gone perhaps
a dozen feet before he suddenly turned and entered one of the stores.
A wave of noise washed over Miriya, stopping her in her tracks.
She didn't even notice that the impertinent micronian had let go of
her hand.
She stood near the center of a large open space; yet it felt
almost as claustrophobic as her first set of quarters aboard the
Quadrano's battle cruiser. It stretched for two levels above her and
every square inch of the place was filled with micronians of every
size and shape. Most sat at strange machines which made large
amounts of noises of all kinds, while others watched or wandered
about looking for a machine of their own. Her attention snapped
to the machine nearest her, where one of the very small micronians
sat. The machine had just emitted a loud whooping noise very
reminiscent of the general quarter's alert, and now a jingling
sound followed. Hypnotized, she took a step closer and saw that the
jingling noise was made by the dropping of a large number of small
round circles of a golden color pouring from the machine and into a
tray that was placed there to catch them. The young micronian
made a yelp of triumph, then stood taking the tray and heading deeper
into the space. Curious, she followed, and the small micronian
led her to a large counter behind which were all sorts of strange
objects who's purpose was not readily apparent to the Quadrano
ace.
The micronian that had brought her to this place was there as
well; arguing with a rather large specimen that wore his hair in one
of the oddest styles Miriya had ever seen. The sides of his head
were shaved bare, except for a large strip in the center which poked
straight up and had been dyed many colors. This imposing specimen
also wore a pair of dark glasses over his eyes, to protect them from
the garish lights of the glowing displays arrayed all over the walls,
she assumed. His companion, a slim stick figure of a micronian
detached himself from the conversation and walked over to the
micronian she had followed. The tray was exchanged for one of the
unfathomable items behind the counter, and the micronian midget
vanished into the crowd.
When she turned back to the micronian that had brought her here,
the imposing micronian he had been arguing with was just turning
back from the wall behind the counter. In his hands was an envelope,
which he passed to her... Assailant? Benefactor? She put aside that
concern and leaned closer to eavesdrop on the conversation.
"Since its Elsa we're talking about, I'll do it," the imposing
micronian sighed; passing the envelope to the one whom had brought
her here. "But as Elsa's friend, do me a favor? Don't come back for
at least a month, Muck. It takes me at least that long to recoup
my losses every time I see your ugly mug."
"Since its Elsa, not only do you have a deal, but I'll try and
sidetrack Max as well," 'Muck' replied; this drew a snort from the
larger one.
"If you can keep Max out of here for a month I'll GIVE you the
damn machine," he declared.
"If you did, I wouldn't have any reason to hang around here,
Blinko," Muck teased.
"A man can dream, can't he? Get out of here... your scaring
the customers," the imposing 'Blinko' growled with a facial
expression that didn't match the tone of his voice before turning
away.
"Ah, there you are, Miriya. Here you go one ticket to the
premier of 'Little White Dragon'. Have fun..." the redheaded
Muck declared, extending the envelope to the still shocked Quadrano.
Uncertain of what she should do, Miriya grabbed the envelope tightly,
then turned and ran from the bewildering place, silently vowing to
return later and learn more about this place that seemingly gave away
things in exchange for worthless bits of metal. Behind her,
un-noticed, Muck smiled to himself and made his way to the entrance
of the arcade at a much more leisurely pace, wondering to himself
where he might find a decent cup of tea...
* * * * * * * * *
Claudia Grant surveyed the almost deserted White Dragon
Restaurant. While there was a sign outside promising a post-premiere
party, there were few people present. She could easily have a table
to herself, but recognizing a familiar shock of red hair near the
back, decided that she didn't want to eat alone. It was, after all,
the reason she had come down here after her watch. While she and Roy
had eaten here often, the memory of his loss was muted by other
memories of happier, sillier meals also held here with her fellow
'bridge bunnies'. Walking up to the booth, she coughed gently to get
the occupants attention before asking, "Mind if I join you?"
Muck looked up from the book he was reading and smiled.
"Evening, Commander. By all means, have a seat."
"Not much of a party," Claudia observed as she sat down.
"Nihaio, Commander," the lavender haired waitress who had
replaced Minmei interjected as she came over to the booth. "Lynn's
cancel party because of transformation. Do you need a menu, or are
you ready to order?"
"Hello, Xian Pu. I'll have the number two combo plate and tea
please," Claudia replied.
"And Mr. Cheapskate? Are you ready to order, or do you want
drink the rest of our tea first?" Xian Pu asked, turning to Muck.
This bit of sarcasm earned her a glare before Muck answered.
"Actually, I am ready to order. I'll have a beef bowl, please."
"Very good, sir. I'll be back in a moment with more tea," Xian
Pu replied, excusing herself.
Claudia looked at the retreating waitress for a moment before
turning back to Muck. "Just how long have you been here, Captain?
Last time Xian Pu was that sarcastic was when someone insulted
the cooking here."
"Not long after the transformation was over. I really wasn't
in a hurry to head back to base and sort of picked here to do some
research."
"Out of a comic book? It's a common myth about fighter jocks,
but I never expected to see proof," Claudia noted in a light tone.
"Well, Fred has a theory about that. He found a reference
to a magic girl anime that was very similar to my last stop. He
thinks that by scanning some of this stuff into storage we can be
better informed about possible jump loci," Muck explained.
"Silly me. And here I thought you came into town to see the
premier."
"Nope. Little White Dragon isn't exactly going anywhere,
after all. Plenty of time to see it after the crowds die down,
commander." The conversation was momentarily interrupted by the
return of Xian Pu with a fresh pot of tea. As she set the pot down,
she glared first at the comic book, then at Muck before retreating
again without a word. Muck shuddered for a moment before observing,
"That woman seriously does NOT like me. I also get the feeling
she could seriously hurt me in a dark alley if she wanted too."
It took the more observant Claudia that put the pieces together.
"Its not you... its that comic book you're reading."
"The comic? What could be so offensive about a fantasy story
about a martial artist with a really strange curse?" Muck wondered.
"You can always ask her when she comes back with the food."
"I dunno... I have the feeling that could be taking my life in
my hands. Why don't you ask her? I mean... I'm supposedly just a
dime a dozen pilot, but your head of Ops. I don't think she'd break
you in two without at least thinking about it first."
Claudia scowled, but her eyes twinkled with laughter. "Why
captain! Such a thing to say about a superior officer, not to
mention a poor defenseless woman. And from someone with your
background, to boot."
"I'm undercover, remember?" Muck replied, a brooding look
creeping across his face as he continued. "And it was never as cut
and dried as children's TV shows or comic books would have you
believe."
"Oh?"
"Oh. The closest comparison I can think of is being a VT pilot.
It's not just the hours. People are depending on you for their very
lives, Claudia. You HAVE to go out, and do the best you can, because
you're the only one who can. And if you fail, they could die. If
you're lucky, that failure will only cost you your life... Otherwise,
you have to live with the fact that you weren't fast enough or smart
enough, hell, just plain good enough to save them! You know that you
can't win every time... and in the quiet moments before you drift
off to sleep you wonder if tomorrow is going to be the day you drop
the ball. You either become a loner, who doesn't let ANYONE into his
life, or you live in absolute terror that someone will come after
THEM to get to You..." Muck let that last thought trail off into
silence, his attention now riveted on the cup of tea in front of him.
"Then why are you so intent on getting back there?" Claudia
asked gently. "I know you're... companion and Lang have been trying
to figure out a way to replace certain parts for months now."
"I have a promise to keep... two now, actually. There was a
woman, a fellow 'professional', you might say. We worked together,
and right at the end, I sent her away, for her own safety. I
promised her I would return to her."
"The Red-Head in your wallet." Claudia's tone made it a
statement, not a question.
"Actually, No. I never had a picture of Jedi to keep with me.
That's Patricia Haruna, and I will return to her, too."
"You promised her you would return to her too? I don't see how
you can keep both of those promises."
"I do. I will find my way back home, and check that Jedi is
still all right, then make my way back to Patricia."
"But you still can't fix those broken components."
"I will. Somehow. I have to believe, Commander. I just have
too."
The conversation was interrupted by Xian Pu's return with their
food. Muck noted that her attitude towards him still had not thawed.
"Um, Miss?" he ventured carefully, earning him an icy look. "May I
ask what it is about my manga that you find so distasteful?"
Xian Pu rolled her eyes before replying. "That stupid manga
has caused us all sorts of trouble. I wish my husband had never
started drawing it. He's a much better cook anyway."
"Your husband is Mu Tsu?" Muck asked incredulously.
"I wish he wasn't. Most of what happens in the story is made
up, but I still get people trying to challenge me to steal me away,
or coming around looking for Husband's autograph," Xian Pu sighed,
exasperated.
Muck calmly placed the offending manga on the bench next to him,
out of sight. "My apologies, Xian Pu. I didn't know." He picked
up a fork, and took a bite of his food. "And tell him that I agree
that he is an excellent cook."
This gained Muck a brilliant smile. "I will. Perhaps next time
you might call ahead and try his Peking Duck." Xian Pu dropped
the check on the table, and while the smile remained, there was some
sort of evil joke glinting in her eyes.
"And here you were worried about her hurting you," Claudia
teased, between bites of food.
"'Tis only my just desserts for forgetting the number one rule
of my former 'profession'," Muck admitted with embarrassment.
"And that is?"
"Never assume ANYTHING about ANYONE." Claudia giggled at that,
and for the moment the conversation tailed off into silence as they
consumed the excellent cooking.
* * * * * * * * *
"Can I give you a lift back to your quarters, Claudia?" Muck
asked as he and Claudia left the White Dragon. "Fred is parked just
around the corner."
"Only if you promise that you don't have any ulterior motives.
I've heard about your type." Claudia replied in a teasing tone.
"Malicious Slander, Claudia. I always was one of the guys in
the white hats. Chaste, virtuous pillar of the community ET all..."
"And then you became a fighter jock, with a much lower
reputation," Claudia noted as Muck opened Fred's door for her.
"What could be more noble than defending one's home, permanent
or not?" Muck replied as he climbed behind the wheel.
Claudia did not reply, suddenly becoming more interested
in the streets of Macross as Muck pulled out and headed towards
the base. They had covered half the distance in silence before they
noted a couple strolling along the street.
"There's Commanders Hayes and Hunter," Muck noted. "Shall we
give them a lift?"
"No," Claudia replied softly. "They look like they're enjoying
themselves. Reality will intrude far too soon on its own."
"You miss Roy, don't you. That's why you decided to come into
town tonight... so you wouldn't be alone?"
Claudia's head snapped around and fixed Muck with a harsh glare,
before softening into something else. "And a Shrink on top of
everything else. Are you certain that there's not a big red and
yellow S on your chest under that uniform?"
"I'm not THAT good." Muck rebutted.
Claudia just turned away and stared back out the window. "How
do you cope? Not knowing if you really will see either of them
again?"
"I have to have faith. As long as I believe it will happen,
somehow, someway, it will. And you need to, too. You will be with
Roy again, after all this is over."
"I wish I could be as certain as you. We've been turned away
from our home planet, facing thousand to one odds. How much more can
we... I bear before it becomes to much?"
"As much as you have to, Commander," Muck replied gently. "I
know you miss him, but you have what it takes inside to keep his
dreams alive. And you have friends, like the bridge crew, and Lisa,
and even myself if you need a shoulder to cry on or a sympathetic
ear." Muck pulled up next to the hatch that lead to the elevators
to bridge officer quarters. "This ship... this crew, all have
something special about them. They thrive under pressures that would
destroy most people. And so can you. You just have to trust in
yourself."
Claudia gave Muck a wan smile as she climbed out of FRED.
"Goodnight, Captain Thunders."
"Were you trying to give her a pep talk, or yourself?" Fred
asked after Claudia had closed the door and Muck was headed towards
the BOQ (3).
"A little of both, Fred. A little of both."
++++
(1) HARM = High-speed Anti-Radiation Missile. Used for taking out
Radar installations...
(2) Aww, come on, what did you expect of the Wanderer?
(3) Bachelor Officers Quarters.