SMARTALECK PRODUCTIONS
Robotech: Foundation
<A Robotech/Battletech/Foundation Trilogy by Isaac
Asimov Fusion/x-over
set in an Alternate Universe.>
Prologue 2 <Revision 2>
Disclaimers:
Robotech is the property of Harmony Gold limited and
I'm only borrowing
their characters and Universe for the purposes of this
story. This
story is being written with the express permission of
the people at
Harmony Gold. So... :p
Foundation Trilogy was created by his Almightiness,
the one and only
Isaac Asimov himself. This work is but a tribute to
him and the
wonderful works of science fiction that he brought
into our lives.
Battletech is owned by FASA. Again, this is but a
tribute and no harm
is intended by this fan fiction.
Warning:
Some dates will be changed for the purposes of this
story. And you won't recognize most of the characters,
even the ones you know. Heck, if you're planning on
seeing Rick or Roy Fokker duke it out with the
warriors of Draconis Combine, leave. This is a fusion
first and a crossover second.
***********************************************************************
Filbutzs Berrentzs Class Home Base
Unknown system
May 15, 2004
1619 Local time
Breetai had never liked official meetings, especially
when he was the one who was lower in the chow chain.
The formality, the fidgeting and the discomfiture that
was normally a part of them had a lot to do with that.
Still, supreme commander Dolza had summoned him and
you did not refuse when you were summoned by the one
at the very top of the food chain. Not if you wanted
to live long anyway, which, unlike other Zentraedi,
Breetai was guilty of.
'I wonder why he summoned me,' he thought to himself
as he walked down the last bend of the long winding
corridor that lead to Dolza's office. A lone Zentraedi
guard, dressed impeccably with a holstered automatic
particle gun saluted him and Breetai acknowledged it
absent-mindedly.
"I'm here to see the supreme commander," he said.
"Yes, Commander Breetai," the soldier said and opened
the door.
Breetai tilted his head in a slight nod and walked
inside.
"You called for me, Supreme Commander?"
"Yes, I did," Dolza said, looking up from his desk.
"Please, take a seat, Breetai. I'll be with you in a
minute."
Breetai took his seat, hopefully. Perhaps he would not
have to wait an inordinate amount of time, after all.
Of course, the minute only took three hours.
Finally, Dolza finished whatever he was doing and slid
back on his chair, devoting his entire attention on
Breetai.
"What do you know about the crisis on the home world,
Commander?" he asked.
"Only a little... A few bits and pieces of half heard
whispers, plus my own experiences."
Dolza nodded and leaned in on the desk.
"When you lost Zor's ship, the Robotech Masters lost
the only thing that could have saved the Empire... The
Empire is in the midst of an energy crisis the likes
of which it has never seen, Breetai. From what I have
managed to blackmail from the Masters, the production
of protoculture has dropped to a standstill and the
reserves we have will last for thirty years... All the
Invid have to do is wait patiently for that long and
then, swoop in and destroy us all."
Breetai nodded. He had surmised that much himself.
"There is, however, a way out. Zor's Battlefortress
contained the last known reserves of the fertile seeds
from the Flower of Life..."
"But we lost it..." Breetai began.
"Yes," Dolza said, forestalling all arguments by
holding up his hand, "you lost it. Fortunately, the
fold was tracked and the Masters have provided me with
the defold co-ordinates. The CEP is expected to be
less than 0.02 within a one light year radius sphere
around the co-ordinates."
Pause.
"I'm putting you in charge of the salvage operation."
Nod.
"Good. Here's the co-ordinates," he handed over a data
pad. "You can fold as soon as your fleet is ready.
Dismissed."
Fade.
***********************************************************************
Military Base Omega
Macross Island, Pacific Ocean
May 20, 2009
2002 Local time
Emil Lang took a deep breath to calm himself and
looked at the antique clock on the wall. 'It's almost
time,' he thought to himself and surveyed the room.
The room was dimly lit by candles, placed at strategic
locations. It was silent, save for the freezer, which
stood in the corner, whirring incessantly. A
handcrafted antique clock stood a couple of feet to
the left of the freezer, ticking monotonously.
The clock brought back pleasant memories of childhood.
Images of his mountain villa summerhouse from before
the war flashed through his mind's eye.
'The war forced us to migrate to America. Too bad we
had to leave the villa,' he thought despondently. More
memories came back and Lang sighed unconsciously. He
truly missed the good old times.
Finally, pushing his thoughts aside, he began his
casual survey of the dim-lit room once more. His eyes
drifted to the plain metal chair that stood a little
distance away from the clock. It did not have all
those comfy features that most new chairs had and was
nothing special in itself, except perhaps for the fact
that Lang liked it very much. It reminded him, once
again, of the way things used to be. Not that he hated
the new technologies or anything, he just preferred
that some of the simpler things in life remain the way
they always were - simple.
And finally, in the center of the room, stood the most
important object for the evening: A table laden with
roses, candles, roasted turkey, mashed potatoes and
champagne.
"Looks like everything's ready," Lang mused to
himself.
Just then, the lone active electrical instrument in
the room, an energy efficient fluorescent bulb went
out, prompting a resigned sigh from the room's
occupant.
'Should have known that something like this would
happen,' Lang thought to himself.
He went to the window and pulling the curtain aside,
noticed that all other apartments in the block had
power. Lang shook his head again.
'Looks like good ol' Murphy strikes again: If anything
can go wrong, it will. It's most probably a fuse
though.'
He pulled the curtains back and started towards the
cupboard in the next room where he kept the
flashlight, the fuses and such. Just as he reached the
cupboard, a shadow fell past his form. Startled and
now, terrified, Lang turned around to look at the
burglar and all went black.
'Is it done?' a shadow whispered, melting away from
the walls.
The shadow that stood over Lang nodded.
'Yes, it is,' it replied.
'Will he remember?' a third one asked.
'No,' the first replied. 'But he will do it.'
The other two shadows nodded.
'He will.'
'It is done then.'
This time all the shadows nodded in acquiescence.
'Survival is now guaranteed.'
'Yes.'
The conversation finished, the shadows melted as one
into nothingness and the light came on once again.
Lang stood up after a couple of minutes, clutching his
head in pain.
"What hit me?" he moaned and then, things came back to
him.
Immediately, he got to his feet, and taking out a
crowbar, checked the front door and his lawn.
Thankfully, it was locked and his girlfriend's car was
nowhere in sight. Breathing a little more freely, he
ran back to the hall and picking up his phone, dialed
the base security station.
The response was immediate.
"This is MP station Alpha-Niner. How may we help me?"
"Hello, this is Emil Lang. I'd like to report a
break-in in my house."
"Are you all right, Doctor?" the voice at the other
end asked.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine, just a little roughed up."
"How bad?"
"I was unconscious for a couple of minutes, I think,
but I'm suffering from no concussions..."
"Thank God," the young voice at the other end said in
relief. He would have been castrated, skinned and then
hung out alive in the tropical sun if permanent damage
had been inflicted on the island's most famous
resident. "Are they still in the house, Doctor?"
"No... I don't think so."
"I'm sending a squad now to investigate this incident,
Doctor. Please, quietly exit the house, and stay at a
neighbor's till the MPs and the emergency medical
services arrive."
Lang nodded, forgetting for a moment that he was in
the middle of a telephone conversation.
"Thank you," he said and placing the receiver down,
made his way out of the house.
The MPs arrived barely two minutes after.
***********************************************************************
Engineering, SDF-1
Macross Island, Pacific Ocean
Earth
May 21, 2009
0745 Local time
Lang arrived late for work the next day, which was
natural given the shock that his system had
experienced the night before. Entering the huge ship
through one of the many ports, he signed in at Central
fifteen minutes late. Being the Captain of Engineering
did have its perks.
"Good morning, Doctor Lang," one of the technicians
said to him as he entered.
Lang mumbled his acknowledgment absentmindedly and
went to his console, not stopping for the usual
chitchat.
Erna, one of the assistant engineers, noted his
behavior and stepped forward.
"Doctor Lang, is everything okay?"
"Huh?" Lang looked up and saw the concerned face of
his assistant.
"Yes, yes, of course," he replied. "I'm just a little
ruffled, that's all."
"Oh! And whatever could have transpired to ruffle the
good doctor so?" she asked, having known about the
date the night before. "Did something exciting happen
last night?"
Lang nodded.
"Yes, my house was burgled," he mumbled in reply.
"Oh my! No wonder you're acting strangely... Did they
take anything?"
Lang shook his head twice.
"No, they did not and that's what bothers me... There
is nothing I can think of that has been stolen, but I
can't help but feel that they have taken something.
It's really strange."
"I'll say," she agreed. "It's not everyday that one
gets burgled." 'Especially in a high security military
base.'
Lang nodded.
"Quite," he said, agreeably. "Now, if you'll excuse
me, I have work to do... Maybe we can continue this
conversation over lunch."
"As you wish, doc," she said and left, leaving Lang to
his devices.
Lang turned his attention back to his terminal, and
began navigating through the computer files in a
zombie-esque manner. He accessed the fold procedures,
then after adding a few blocks of codes of his own,
saved and quit the file.
***********************************************************************
Macross Island, Pacific Ocean
Earth
Launch day of SDF-1
"Lieutenant Commander Grant?"
"Yes, Sir!"
"Any word from the CAG?"
Grant turned to face the Captain, keeping a critical
eye on her console through the corner of her eyes.
"The Commander reported in a couple of minutes ago,
Captain. The air show is going on as expected, though
there was a slight disturbance," she shot a meaningful
glance at her friend and colleague, Lisa Hayes, "when
a civilian pilot strayed into the restricted air space
around the island."
Gloval nodded.
"Thank you for reporting it to me immediately,
Commander," he intoned, sarcastically.
Grant blushed.
"My apologies, Captain."
Gloval nodded, again.
"See to it that it doesn't recur, Commander."
Pause.
"Has the pilot been dealt with?"
"Yes, Sir," she said, nodding once. "The CAG is
looking into it even as we speak."
"Very well. You may return to your station,
Commander."
Grant saluted as was wont and returned to her station.
"How's the launch sequence coming along?" Gloval
asked, turning his attention to Commander Hayes.
Lieutenant Commander Lisa Hayes, the mission
specialist, turned halfway from her console and
replied.
"The Coffeepot's output is nominal for takeoff and is
slowly increasing to safe-levels. Anti-grav pods are
being put through the pre-flight checks and
Engineering reports that everything appears to
ship-shape. Reaction mass is nominal... Texaco-One is
waiting in low-Earth orbit to refuel us at rendezvous
point Epsilon-Gamma.
"All crew members have reported to their stations and
the launch area is being cleared by the Military
Police for launch, Captain."
Gloval nodded.
"Initiate Stage-Two when ready, Commander. Recycle
engines and run final checkups on all power and engine
systems, and sub-systems."
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Hayes replied brusquely and saluted
him, turning her attention back to her console.
Gloval reclined back in his chair and allowed himself
a moment to admire the view of the skyline through the
airtight Plexiglas window of the bridge, even as he
daydreamed about days long gone by.
"Captain!" Grant shouted suddenly at near the top of
her voice, startling Gloval out of his walk down
memory lane.
"Yes, Commander," Gloval said, tersely. He had been in
the midst of one of his personal favorites and the
Lieutenant Commander just had to disturb him.
"Targeting systems are activating... Reactor output
has jumped sky-high and the capacitors for the reflex
cannon are fast reaching maximum capacitance. Particle
accelerators are being put through their warm-up
paces; particle storage banks are being flushed and
recycled for combat load!"
"What the... Override all weapon systems manually!"
Gloval ordered. If the main reflex cannon fired, there
wouldn't be enough left of the island to make a brick.
"I'm trying, Captain," Commander Lisa shouted, rapidly
tapping the keys on her feather touch console, "but
the controls aren't responding."
"Target acquisition LIDAR has come online... All
active sensors are powering up and passive sensors
have upgraded to battle mode... The battlenet is going
haywire with the load... GrASA registers massive
displacements - multiple folds from the looks of it -
off the Moon," Grant shouted simultaneously with Lisa.
"Commander Grant, patch a warning to High Command and
order all UNDF forces in this area to DefCon-Two. Keep
an eye on those GrASA signatures and order Skull
squadron back to the ship. The festivities end now!"
he ordered over the din, hailing Captain of
Engineering, Lang, over the VIDCOM, as he did.
Grant nodded once emphatically and turned her
attention back to her console to execute Gloval's
orders.
"Lang!" Gloval shouted at Doctor Lang's face that
appeared on screen.
The Doctor was scuffling through a technical manual
and did not reply immediately, prompting Gloval to
address him again.
"Commander Lang," he said, using the Doctor's military
rank in his address to emphasize the severity of the
situation. "Report from Central?"
"I don't know what's happening, Captain," Lang said,
adjusting his glasses. "All of a sudden, the
instruments went SAPFU and we haven't been able to
regain control of them."
"The army does not pay you to make guesses and
observations, Commander," Gloval rebuked, "I can well
see what's happening from where I sit. Tell me what
you and your men are doing to rectify the situation."
"These things take time, Captain!" Lang replied,
curtly. 'Especially when you're working with
technology you barely understand.'
"I don't have that particular luxury right now,
Commander. Something needs to be done about the weapon
systems fast before the reflex cannon fires and
vaporizes everything on the Island... Do what you must
do and get me back control over my ship."
"I'll see what we can do, Captain," Lang replied,
"Though I wouldn't bring my hopes up just yet. The
power conduits to the reflex cannon are fed through
the fold engines and if we abruptly sever the power
supply, the fold engine might interpret it as a fold
signal and we'll end up God knows where..."
"Dammit, Doctor, I don't care what you do. Just get me
control," Gloval said abruptly interrupting Lang.
"Captain out." He turned his attention back to Grant.
"Commander, what are we targeting?"
"There are four hundred separate folds that we can
detect and the cannon is aiming right at their
center."
"Goddamn!" Gloval growled. "Commander Hayes, forget
about the pre-launch sequence. We have to get
airborne, ASAP."
"Sir, the dangers of such an attempt..." Lisa began.
"I'm well aware of the dangers involved in the
enterprise, Commander," Gloval harshly interrupted
her. "What do you think will happen once they start
firing at us?"
Lisa nodded slowly, taken aback by the vehemence in
Gloval's words.
"And if you ever argue over my orders, Commander, I'll
have you court-martialed for disobeying a higher
ranking officer," he warned.
Lisa's face paled at the warning and her hands shook a
little. Nevertheless, she managed to hold herself for
the most part and nodded once in understanding.
"Aye, sir!"
"Magnetic coils are powering up. Their power load is
reaching maximum... The particle storage banks are
being bled... Oh God! We are firing!" Grant shouted in
warning just before a huge beam of high-energy
particles shot out from between the two forward booms.
The mountain, which stood in the center of the island,
was unfortunately, in the path of the beam. It lost
all of its upper slopes in the wink of an eye, sending
a vaporized cloud of dusk and rock reaching up to the
heavens. Still, the immense explosion did not slow the
beam any. If anything, it seemed angrier than before,
shimmering an angry hue of yellow-red, as it sped up
into the heavens.
The flash of the blast, though almost completely
polarized by the synthetic polymer glass in the bridge
portals, still managed to blind the crew temporarily.
When the light faded away, it was replaced by an
awe-filled silence as everyone gazed at where the
mountain had once stood.
"I want off this island, now, Commander," Gloval
shouted, breaking the silence. "What's the damage
assessment?"
"R&R lounge reports a couple of aggravated cases of
sunburns from exposure to the radiation from the
cannon... No other deck is reporting any injuries,
Captain."
Gloval nodded. The R&R lounge was located between the
booms and had little armor coverage. Still, the
injuries were unexpected. What were the idiots doing
there instead of being at their battle stations,
anyway?
"Send a DC crew to the R&R lounge and get them to
clean up the mess... Where the hell is Skull
Squadron?"
"They are on their way now, Captain!" Grant replied,
somehow managing to maintain a calm exterior. "ETA one
minute."
"Captain!" Lisa shouted. Her nervousness was very
evident in her voice. "SatNet reports approximately
eighty UFOs entering the atmosphere. The WarBook has
analyzed their signatures and has given them," she
looked at her console again, "Sierra classifications.
They seem to be Regult Battlepods... They seem to have
been launched from another ship, which is in
geosynchronous orbit around the Earth."
"Fuck!" Gloval swore. Even though he wasn't normally
given into profanities, the situation seemed to demand
one. "Calculate their drop zone and ETA from their
TMA, and scramble a squadron of gunships to check them
out. I want to know how this new one fooled our
sensors for so long."
Lisa worked feverishly at her console. Finally, after
nearly half a minute of silence, she spoke.
"Our sensors had registered the ship on arrival, sir!
It was automatically assigned a Sierra designation
even though the WarBook classified it as a
troop-carrier."
Gloval groaned. What else had the ship conspired to
hide from him? It was hard enough fighting a single
enemy without having to outthink his ship every step
of the way.
"A horse! A horse!" he muttered dejectedly, quoting
from Shakespeare. "My kingdom for a horse!"
Pause.
"I want Skull refueled and relaunched as soon as they
land. Inform those assholes in the Situation Rapid
Response Center that as the highest-ranking officer in
the island, I'm taking command of all UNDF and Civil
Defense Forces in the area. Inform Omaha to get ready
to scramble its fighters at a moment's notice... The
Civil Defense Forces are to scramble and take
defensive positions in a five mile corridor around the
island right the hell now!"
Pause.
"Order the evacuation of all civilians to the bomb
shelters and how long do we have to wait before we can
take to the air?" he added almost as an afterthought.
"Five minutes, sir. The main reaction drives will be
online in five minutes... that's the best Engineering
can do and the anti-grav pods in three. Maneuvering
thrusters are go, Captain!"
Gloval nodded.
"ETA on the contacts?"
"Four minutes, sir," Lisa replied.
"Civil Defense forces are scrambling their fighters
and Destroid units. They'll form a protective blanket
around the ship in three minutes," Grant interjected.
"Thanks, Commander," Gloval said, gratefully. "That's
the only good news I have heard all day. Recycle the
reflex cannon, but do not do a TMA on the ships. When
I give the order, reroute the power from the reflex
cannon capacitor circuits to the fold engines and
bleed the particle storage banks through the MRDs. I
want to fold to a point two light seconds behind the
enemy fleet at that point."
"Aye, sir!"
"Captain," Grant shouted in an alarmed voice. "ARMD
stations I and II are engaging the main enemy fleet.
They are reporting heavy... Battlenet reports that
they have dropped offline... We lost them, sir."
Gloval nodded grimly.
For the UNDF forces, this was their first major battle
fought in outer space in which they did not completely
outgun the enemy in terms of technology, numbers and
experience. They were facing a situation they had been
in many times before, but only this time, they were at
the other end and naturally, he expected heavy loses
before the day was over. All the men and women in the
stations had made a brave sacrifice, but he could not
waste a moment in remembrance of them, for if his gut
was right, and it always was, humanity was going to
have its hands full fighting for its very survival in
the foreseeable future.
"Back to your stations," Gloval ordered, after taking
a deep breath. Work on the bridge had stopped at the
announcement, and even though he agreed with the
expression on the crew's faces, he could not let them
mourn the deaths of their friends. Too many lives
depended on their and his acting fast, and even though
he had never felt so old in his entire life, he was
determined to bear the weight of the task fate had
dropped on him. "Look up, people, we have a tough
battle ahead of us and everyone's counting on us to
win it," he added when the crew begun their job
lethargically.
The next few minutes passed away in silence and Gloval
passed his time by mentally shifting through the
lessons he had learnt during his years at sea and
formulating tactics. During that time, Skull squadron
returned to the ship and the pods landed a couple of
miles from the shore. Gloval remained silent through
the entire period and only stirred when Grant reported
that the gunships were seconds away from the site.
Just as he finished making himself comfortable in his
chair, the radio blared to life.
"Mother Goose, this is Sambar Lead. We have reached
Ground Zero and are moving into position. Will begin
video transmission in a few, over."
Gloval leaned forward in his chair and the bridge fell
silent in anticipation. The main tactical screen came
online and it showed a shot of the sea, which seemed
to be filled with white spheres.
"Mother Goose, are you receiving the transmission.
Over."
"Yes, we are, Sambar Lead," Grant said in the
background.
"Order him in for a closer look, Commander," Gloval
ordered.
Grant repeated his commands to the gunship commander.
"Roger that, Mother Goose. Sambar-One and Sambar-Two,
take flank and provide cover. Sambar-Three, follow me
in," the radio cackled.
The spheres on screen started to grow in size and the
indistinct poles sticking out of them resolved into
the long, wickedly sleek looking black barrels of
cannons.
"They seem to be reacting," Sambar Lead commented in
quiet awe.
And no sooner had the words died in the bridge, the
video feed from Sambar-Three went out, followed
quickly by the others. Silence filled the bridge as
the computer informed everyone that the communication
lines had been terminated.
Even Gloval, who had known perfectly well that he was
sending his men to almost certain death, was struck
speechless. Finally, after a couple of moments of
silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity, he
spoke.
"It is true, then," he said to himself, softly. 'Our
worst fears are confirmed.' "Commander Hayes, how's
the launch sequence coming up?"
"A-Almost ready, Sir!" Hayes stuttered in reply.
"Good! Inform the units that we're fighting a holding
action. Tell them to buy us..." he turned towards
Hayes.
"Three minutes, at the most, Sir!"
"Three minutes," Gloval continued. "Lang?" he said
over the VIDCOM link to Engineering.
"Captain?"
"How's the fold sequence coming along?"
"TARFU, Captain!" the commander replied. "But we'll
survive." 'I hope!'
Gloval nodded.
"Captain out!" He turned to Grant. "Updates?"
"Falcon Squadron has engaged and is holding them back,
for the time being. They'll be reinforced in under a
minute."
"Wonderful!" Gloval said, shooting a quick glance at
his wristwatch. First contact had already cost the
UNDF forces too much and further loses could
hopelessly cripple them, destroying what little chance
they had of surviving the attack.
A minute passed.
"The Head Bashers are engaging the enemy, Captain.
Just in time, it would appear. The Falcons were on
their last leg."
Grant nodded once, before shifting his eyes back to
the watch.
"Keep me appraised," he murmured absentmindedly. He
turned to Hayes. "Launch sequence?"
"Almost done, Sir," Lisa replied just as the ship
began to vibrate as the Main Reaction Drives began to
cycle.
Gloval nodded.
"Use the VTOL Drives and complement them with the MRDs
to launch, Commander," he said. Using the Anti-grav
pods would sap much energy this deep inside the
Earth's core and coupled with the already huge load
placed on the reactors by the fold engines, might
initiate an auto shutdown.
"Aye, aye, Sir!"
Gloval nodded and switched on 1MC.
"All hands on the _SDF-1,_ this is your captain
speaking. We're now the unwilling participants of an
interstellar conflict - one that threatens the very
existence of our species."
Pause.
"I ask that you give nothing less than your very best
for the sake of the countless innocents on our planet
in the battle to come... We launch in 60 seconds.
Captain out." He turned to Grant. "Order all RDF
squadrons to enter and stay within the fold bubble at
all times."
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Grant replied.
"MRD 1 and 6 are now initiating a 3 second burn at
full thrust," Hayes announced just as the ship
shuddered once.
"Acknowledged."
"MRD 2 and 5 are initiating a 3 second burn at full
thrust."
Shudder.
Nod.
"MRD 3 and 4 are initiating a 3 second burn at full
thrust."
Another nod and another shudder.
Hayes then sounded general quarters and turned towards
Gloval for further commands.
Gloval nodded at her and activated the 1MC.
"This is the captain. Launch in T-30 seconds," Gloval
announced to the crew.
The message was repeated over 2MC and the ship began
to shudder once again. This time, however, there was a
deep rumble as all six MRDs came online at once.
"Engineering reports that the MRDs are holding. The
flight variants are within permissible levels, Sir."
Gloval nodded. Behind him, the monotonous voice of the
computer started the countdown.
"Steering reports are Green, Sir," Hayes continued.
"Good, take us to 800 at 0.1, 10 degree up bubble."
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Hayes replied, relaying the command
to Steering and Engineering.
The countdown ended and the secondary and the VTOL
thrusters roared to life with an ear shattering shriek
as tons and tons of water vapor was pumped through
their plasma coils. The pylons holding the ship to the
ground shook and one by one fell off as the ship
supported itself in mid-air. Finally, the main
engines, which, too, had been dry running until then,
spouted a bluish white wall of flame as Engineering
initiated wet run and slowly lifted the ship higher
into the air.
"50 meters and rising," Hayes shouted aloud over the
din.
Gloval nodded without really acknowledging her as he
raised Lang over the VIDCOM.
"The fold?" he asked; shouted, rudely, completely
discarding all formalities and decorum.
"She'll fetch whenever you want her to, Captain," Lang
replied brusquely, monitoring the various stations
with a critical eye. "Lang out."
Gloval nodded to the inactive VIDCOM and turned
towards Hayes.
"Commander Hayes, on my mark, initiate fold."
"Yes, Sir. 746 meters and rising," she replied.
A couple of seconds passed in silence and finally, the
roar of the MRDs became a whine.
"800 meters and holding steady, Sir!"
Gloval nodded.
"Mark!" he barked.
Hayes nodded, hit the fold siren and waited a couple
of seconds before initiating the fold.
The ship shook once and a bubble of azure burst around
it. There was a flash and a rose-orange ocean of light
opened up all around them. There was another bright
flash and then, nothing.
Gloval, and for that matter, most of the bridge crew,
cringed unconsciously as the ship entered fold space,
half expecting to be torn apart into sub-atomic
particles. Fortunately and unfortunately, nothing
happened, for when Gloval opened his eyes roughly two
seconds later, the drives had shutdown and they were
still cruising within fold space.
"What the... Commander, why aren't we in normal
space?" he asked Hayes.
Hayes shook her head.
"I don't know, Sir. The fold was executed
perfectly..."
Gloval nodded and was about to open the VIDCOM link to
Central when Grant interrupted.
"Sir?" she shouted in an alarmed voice.
Gloval turned his attention towards her to reply when
the proximity alarm went off.
"Situation report?" he asked, almost getting off his
seat.
"There seems to be a massive object just to our
side... Sensors estimate its mass at around
700,000,000 metric tones..."
"Nothing's that massive, Commander. Something must be
wrong with the sensors," Gloval said, heaving a breath
of relief. For a moment, he had thought that one of
the alien ships had jumped into fold space with them.
"Negative, Sir," Grant replied, turning towards him
halfway with a look of disbelief in her eyes. "It's no
ship... It's Macross Island... It must have been
sucked into the fold bubble..." 'At least that's what
I think happened.'
"Acknowledged, Commander," he said.
"Sir, shall I order Skull in to check for survivors?"
"Negative. Skull will maintain formation until further
notice."
"Sir..."
"Those people might run out of air, I know,
Commander," Gloval replied, shooting Grant an
exasperated look. Was there no one on the bridge who
would just follow his goddamned orders? "But I have
more pressing things to worry about: like why aren't
we in fold space and what's going to happen when we
do?"
Pause.
"Yes, Sir!"
"Thank you," Gloval said, curtly, activating the
VIDCOM to Central. "Lang?"
"Yes, Captain?" Lang asked. He seemed to be more
impatient than before.
"We are still in fold space. Why are we?"
"I know, Captain. I'm looking into it as we speak."
Pause.
"Hmm... Nothing wrong with Astrogation's calculations
as far as I can tell..."
"And..."
Lang shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Dammit, Lang," Gloval growled angrily. The Chief
Engineer really seemed to be intent on pissing him
off. "You're paid to know these things and correct
them."
"That I am, Captain," Lang replied, evenly, "but I'm
no God, as you can clearly see, and this ship," he
waves his hand around him, steadily growing angrier by
the second, "is an amalgam of two very different
technologies so different that it's a wonder it works
at all. Half the time my men don't know what the
hell's going on and you're telling me to fix them just
like that... I need time, Captain."
"And that is something I don't have, Commander. Find
out what's going on fast and report to me."
"Yes, Sir!" Lang replied in a subdued manner.
"Good. Now, will we be re-entering real space within
the next twelve hours?"
Lang took a deep breath and scrolled through some
technical readings on his station. Finally, he shook
his head.
"No, it'll be sometime before the ship does that, I
believe. There seems to be some sort of timing
algorithm that seems to be running. Give me a few
minutes and I'll give you the exact time table."
Gloval nodded.
"You do that. Gloval out."
"Sir, Phantom requesting clearance for landing to
refuel," Grant announced.
"Permission granted."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
***********************************************************************
The Bridge
Zentraedi Command Vessel
0.7 light seconds from Earth
"_Macross_ has successfully folded, Commander
Breetai."
"That deep within the planet's atmosphere?" 'What kind
of fools are these people?' "Any idea about their
destination?"
"Negative, Commander."
Breetai regarded his 'dwarf' Records Staff Officer
emotionlessly for a second.
"Very well. If they survived that 'fold,' they would
have to defold somewhere eventually. Send a EAM to
Supreme Commander Dolza. Give him a summary of what
has transpired so far, and ask him to keep a look out
for Zor's ship and send us reinforcements. Should the
_Macross_ ever fold back to this little dust ball, I
want us there to snatch it."
Exedore nodded and repeated the orders to the crew.
"Pull back our forces off the planet and order our
ships to spread out in groups of three. They're to
comb this entire solar system for Zor's ship, and when
they are through, they are to comb it repeatedly. Am I
making myself clear?" Breetai continued.
Exedore nodded again.
"Why not attack the planet?" he asked. "As long as
these micronians remain, they can aid the _Macross._"
"And if we wipe them off, there's a good chance that
the ship will flee when it returns. No, the planet is
off limits... for the time being."
Exedore nodded.
"Good. I'll be in my quarters. You have the conn."
***********************************************************************
The Bridge
_SDF-1 Macross_
0947 Hrs Zulu Time
Day two in fold space
Gloval sat on his seat, a thoughtful look on his face.
All around him, the bridge crew stood in their
stations, going about their jobs while he brooded.
It had been two days since their entry into fold space
and during that brief period, Lang had found a
surprising number of things. For one thing, the
Astrogators had entered the fold co-ordinates
correctly and even though the fold engine wasn't
designed for operations so deep within a planet's
gravitational well, it had done so, admirably. The
fault, however, lay in some small program that had the
highest levels of protection in the ship's memory
core. It acted as a delay timer, slowly counting the
seconds the ship was in fold space, and until its
counter ran out, which it would do in roughly two
years, they could not exit the void of fold space.
Even though that particular piece of information had
been shocking, Gloval quickly saw how the situation
could be turned to their advantage - Lang assured him
that when they arrived in real space, there wouldn't
be much of a time lag, if there was any at all, and
that they would fold behind the enemy fleet as planned
before hand. As such, Gloval looked upon the two years
as a godsend during which he could prepare his men and
his ship for the war ahead, and had ordered the rescue
of all civilians trapped in the bomb shelters on
Macross Island. Once the operation was complete, he
had taken command of all civilian and military
personnel, declaring a state of martial law throughout
the ship for an indefinite period of time.
"Captain?"
"Yes, Commander?" Gloval asked, raising his head and
eyeing Hayes critically.
"Engineering reports that the calculations for the
course correction burn has been entered and they are
ready to initiate," she replied.
Gloval nodded. The corrective burns were necessary to
bring the ship to rest relative to fold space. It
wouldn't do to end up a thousand light years away from
their destination now, would it?
"Initiate burn."
"Aye, aye, Sir," she said and repeated the command to
Central.
Gloval did not have to wait long for the reply. There
was a slight shudder and then, silence as the ship's
maneuvering thrusters fired for a brief moment.
"Engineering reports that the burn was successful,
Captain," Hayes announced.
"Good," Gloval said and stood up. "Commander Grant has
the conn. I'll be in Tactical should you need me,
Commander."
The change of command was repeated by the Chief, and
Grant confirmed it. Gloval, for his part, stepped into
the elevator and disappeared behind its doors.
***********************************************************************
Tactical
SDF-1 _Macross_
0956 Hrs Zulu Time
Fold space
"We're civilians for God's sake!" the Macross city
counselor screamed. "You can't treat us like this."
'It's almost as if he's foaming in his mouth. He's
that angry and indignant, the self-righteous, snotty
bastard,' Lang thought, as he eyed the counselor and
his toadies standing before him. 'There's not much
hope that they'll listen to me, but I guess I'll have
to try...' he thought and opened his mouth.
Thankfully, before a word could escape his mouth, Lang
was spared the torture of having to listen and reply
to any more of the counselor's prattle as Gloval's
commanding voice replied in his stead.
"On the contrary, Counselor, I can and I will."
Presented with a new target, the elderly gentleman
counselor turned his attention towards Gloval, intent
on telling him exactly where he could shove his
orders. The look on the captain's face stopped him
however, and the few choice epithets that he had
formed refused to come out of his mouth.
Gloval raised an eyebrow, fully aware of the effect he
was having on the counselor and his three stooges.
"Cat got your tongue, Counselor?" he asked.
"Captain Gloval," the counselor said, quickly changing
tactics and extending his hand for a handshake, "it's
a pleasure to finally meet you, Sir."
Gloval nodded in acknowledgment, though he refused to
accept the handshake.
"I'm sure the reverse is true," he said coldly and
took his seat at the head of the table. "Now, as I was
coming in, I couldn't help but overhear that you're
having problems with the way things are run in 'my'
ship. Is that correct?"
"Well... It's this way, you see..." the counselor
begun before Gloval interrupted him by raising his
hand.
"Spare me your speech, Counselor, and get to the
point. I, as you can see, am a busy man, unlike
some..."
The counselor winced. Things were not going the way he
planned.
"Captain..."
"I said, no longwinded speeches, Counselor."
"Well, yes... Your men are treating my people as no
better than pond scum, ordering us to do menial tasks
and..."
"And you have a problem with that?"
"Yes," the counselor said with a nod.
"Keep it to yourself then. This is no democracy and I
don't need your opinions on how I should run 'my'
ship."
"Captain..."
"I said, this is no goddamn democracy," Gloval
thundered, striking the table furiously with the palm
of his hands. "Is that too hard for you to understand,
Counselor?"
Completely thrown off-guard by Gloval's outburst and
more than a little afraid of what would happen should
he evoke further ire, the counselor nodded.
"Good," Gloval said, sitting down. "What other problem
do you have?"
"N... Nothing."
"Jesus H. Christ! What are you civilians made of
nowadays?" Gloval growled; grumbled.
"Shelter..." the leftmost stooge said, a little
hesitantly.
Gloval nodded.
"That's being taken care of. The 'barracks' will be
ready in another couple of days, the Captain of the
A-gang assures me," he shot a look at Lang.
"Quite," Lang agreed, "we'll finish well ahead of the
set timeframe... even a day before."
The stooge nodded.
"Anything else?"
"Yes, Sir," he said. "What do you plan to do with us?"
"That's a good question," Gloval said, leaning forward
in his seat. "We're trapped in fold space and we'll
remain here for the next two years - so Doctor Lang,
here, tells me. He also assures me that when we
finally come out of fold space, not a moment would
have passed in the real world and that we'll fold
exactly where we planned: two light seconds behind the
enemy fleet. Now, I plan to use the time lapse to my
advantage - we're the Earth's first and only line of
defense against these aliens - and these two years are
viewed by many, including myself, as a Godsend...
"What do I intend to do with you? Well, I'll tell you.
I plan to make all survivors of Macross city soldiers
and integrate them into the RDF. I intend to push them
to the edge and when they can't go any further, I'll
push them some more. I plan to make this ship into the
invincible fighting machine that we and the aliens who
designed it, built it to be and when we come out of
fold, I plan to hit the enemy so fast and so hard that
they wouldn't know what hit them until they are long
dead and gone." Gloval rose up, his eyes sparkling
with barely restrained passion. "I plan to defend
Earth with you," he said forcibly, "that's what I plan
to do!"
"I understand, Captain. The needs of a few are
irrelevant when weighed against the needs of the
many."
Gloval nodded, eyeing the man before standing before
him with newfound respect. The man would have made a
very fine soldier.
"What did you say your name was?"
"Caruthers, Sir, Williams Caruthers."
"Well, Mr. Caruthers," Gloval said, standing up and
navigating around the table, "it looks like you just
landed a new job." He turned towards the counselor.
"Counselor, your services are no longer required. Mr.
Caruthers here will replace you as the commanding
officer of all civilians in this ship."
"You can't do that," the counselor protested vainly.
"Just watch me," he said, turning his back to the old
man. "Commander?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"Get someone to fill-in Mr. Caruthers on his new
responsibilities," he said and turned to Caruthers.
"Mr. Caruthers, I expect four days should be enough
for you to get yourself acquainted with your job. I
want a full report on your charges by then."
"Aye, aye, Sir!"
"And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go and gonk,"
Gloval said, adding almost as an afterthought,
"Commander, inform Bridge that I'll be in my
quarters," he said and exited.
***********************************************************************
The Bridge
Command Ship
_Adoclas_ Fleet
0.42 light seconds from Phobos
October 21, 2006
Breetai stood in front of the HUD, his arms clasped
behind his back. His eyes were narrowed in deep
thought and his face creased.
"You summoned me, Commander Breetai?" Exedore's
familiar voice said, breaking the CO of the _Adoclas_
Fleet out of his ruminations.
"Huh? Yes, I did. Our orders have been cancelled and
we have been ordered back to Home Base for
reassignment."
"But we still haven't recovered Zor's ship!" Exedore
protested.
"Yes, we haven't. However, orders are orders... Today,
my loyal friend, the Empire truly dies."
"Huh? You talk nonsense, Commander."
"Am I?" Breetai asked himself aloud. "No, I think
not," he said after a pause. "We're being called back
for a reason. The Invid have launched an attack on the
home world and we're needed to defend it. What can we
possibly do that the five million ships of the
_Imperial_ Fleet cannot do?"
Exedore nodded, processing the new information in his
head.
"And what of these micronians, Commander?"
"Let them be... Zor would have wanted it that way."
Exedore looked at Breetai for a long time and finally,
nodded. Perhaps Breetai's relationship with Zor had
affected him more deeply than even he had suspected.
"As you wish, Commander."
"Send a communicae to all ships: Fold to the home
world to defend it against the Invid at 2350 Hrs."
"Yes, Commander."
Fade.
***********************************************************************
Naval Terms (Including my own creations):
Central: The central controlling station for
engineering abroad SDF-1. Took the term from "Snipes,"
an excellent fan fiction by Austin Wilde of "The
Saotome Gambit" fame.
CAG: Combat Air Group as well as Commander Air Group.
Commander Roy Fokker is the CAG abroad the SDF-1.
Coffeepot: A Nuclear Reactor, or in the SDF-1's case,
the Reflex Furnace.
Texaco: An airborne, or a space borne Tanker.
GrASA: Gravitational Anomalies Sensory Array. Sensors
used to detect and classify fold signatures within a
distance of three million kilometers.
SAPFU: Surpassing All Previous Fuck-Ups. Things are
really, really bad in the ship now.
DC: Damage Control.
R&R: Rest and Relaxation.
SatNet: Satellite Network.
Battlenet: Battle Network. A shipboard data bus used
to co-ordinate the various weapon systems and their
affiliated computers.
Sierra: Classification given to contacts that are
determined to not pose any immediate danger to the
ship.
ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival.
TMA: Target Motion Analysis.
TARFU: Things Are Really Fucked-Up. Situation is worse
than normal.
VTOL: Vertical Take-Off and Landing.
MRD: Main Reaction Drive.
Anti-grav: Anti-Gravity.
1MC: The public voice-only announcement system.
2MC: The Engineering voice-only announcement system.
RDF: Robotech Defense Force. The primary defense force
of the earth. Uses a hybrid of alien and human
technologies to accomplish its goal.
VIDCOM: VIDeo COMmunication. Private communication
system that links key departments with the Bridge.
EAM: Emergency Action Message. The Zentraedi use this
system to transmit short bursts of information over
long distances at faster than light speeds. This is
much faster, and much more expensive and power
consuming than the standard faster than light
communication systems mounted on Zentraedi ships.
A-gang: Auxiliaries division of the Engineering
department. They maintain the ship's auxiliary
equipment.
Gonk: Sleep.
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