Disclaimer
I don’t own Macross. If I did, I would be far too rich to be bothered writing fan fiction.
"Lock and clear!"
The massive maintenance servos, wrapped almost gently around Scutum 303, locked down, and Corporal Takemoto popped the Destroid’s canopy. She hesitated, glanced down at her empty gunner’s seat, then hopped out of the cockpit and slid down the ladder to the ground level.
Lieutenant Borela stretched as he emerged from the AAR-II. "I need an espresso, right now." He glanced behind him, as Private Taylor escorted the two prisoners from the vehicle. He made a mental note to give Taylor some instruction in the proper handling of prisoners; either one of them could have relieved him of his firearm easily enough.
"Officer on the deck."
Enlisteds across the entire hangar snapped to attention, as Major Sutton stalked across the deck. He marched up to Borela, returned the Zentran’s salute, then said, "I understand you lost some good men."
"Yes, sir. MacDonald, Webb, Wog and Saro were all slain. Did Barak 103 successfully recover, sir?"
"He did indeed."
"I am glad to hear it."
Sutton glanced over at the two prisoners. "And these two?"
Borela sighed. "The one with the green skin is a Zentran. The other claims to be human, and a Captain of Intelligence. Claimed Section Twelve as soon as he could."
"Seems to be a common trick among them." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "You’ve earned some downtime; go grab some coffee, listen to some jazz, whatever you do on your time off."
"Yes, sir."
* * * * *
Captain Roberts tossed her notebook computer onto the Major’s desk. "The debriefing, or interrogation, or whatever...it went quick. And none of it was good news."
"Tell me what you’ve got."
Roberts gestured towards the notebook. "It’s all in there, sir."
"I thought you knew me better than that, Captain. I want a quick rundown of what you’ve learned. Not the full monty; I’ll get that from your report. But I need to know what’s going on."
"Yes, sir. The variable fighters that Raptor Flight encountered are a new form of variable fighter, called a Drogan. They were designed by a human engineer, name unknown."
"A variable fighter engineer, working for the Malcontents?" Sutton shook his head. "What on earth could they possibly have offered him?"
"No idea, sir."
"Continue."
Roberts closed her eyes. "The Drogan variable fighter was based on the old SV-51 design used by the anti-unification rebels, back before Space War One, but has been modified to look a lot like a Valkyrie. Twelve were built, plus one prototype fighter, and they were talking about making more. The Malcontents intend to use them in a terror strike somewhere in Southeast Asia."
"Terror strike? With only twelve ships?"
"I don’t believe we have all the information yet."
"Did that Captain, or whatever he is, hold anything back, you think?"
"I don’t think so, sir."
Sutton stood up, and turned to face his wall map. "Where exactly are they based?"
"We don’t know that, either. Apparently the battle at Crash Site 1137E was a delaying action, so that they could get the fighters out of there."
"They threw away a company of mecha, plus a Destroid, just to get these fighters out. If they’d used the fighters, Lt. Gorilla’s forces would have been wiped out."
"Captain..." Roberts winced.
"Sorry. Lt. Borela." He turned to face her. "We picked up those fighters, by the way. They were flying out to sea. Did this Section Twelve guy mention where they were coming from?"
"Yes, sir. Crash Site 1150F."
"1150F." Sutton frowned. "What’s 1150F?"
"1150F is the crash site of Armour Eleven. One of our own ships."
* * * * *
"Hey, it’s Borela!"
Lieutenant Borela raised a hand in greeting as he entered the lounge. The entire room broke out into cheers. Several fighter jocks raised their glasses, and the one Destroid pilot present snapped to attention and gave him a very crisp salute. A Private of maintenance ran forward with a cup of espresso, and someone started up some Duke Ellington on the stereo.
"What is the occasion?" Borela glanced around in bemusement. "Did I miss Christmas?"
Takemoto walked up to him, a wide grin on her face. "I managed to weasel the gun tape footage from Lucern 104 outta the Captain. Popped it into the VCR here." She jerked a thumb towards the big screen. "These guys watched you take out a Destroid single-handedly, with your bare hands."
"My hands were not bare; I was wearing gloves. And carrying a pistol."
"Think they care?" She stepped forward, and lowered her voice. "You probably also saved my life. If you hadn’t taken out that artillery pod--"
"If I had not, then the entire team would have been killed."
"They were using anti-radiation missiles. If you hadn’t crawled to within punching distance, then painted for the air strike while practically within the blast radius..." She tilted her head. "The next two missiles woulda killed me for sure."
* * * * *
"Armour Eleven!"
Roberts nodded. "It’d make a good base of operations, sir. Mecha construction facilities, lots of spare parts."
"I was on board Armour Ten during Space War One. I know what they carry." He shook his head. "We have to investigate the site. It may contain some clue as to where they were going, or what they’re gonna do."
He turned and examined the TO&E. "I want Black’s wing to check out the crash site. Also, keep two Lightnings on Ready One, in case they’re needed. Mission to commence at 0600 tomorrow morning."
"Aye, sir. Rules of engagement?"
He considered. "We need information more than we need dead heroes. Level Three."
"Not to fire unless fired upon, or unless commander on site deems it appropriate to mission success."
"Exactly." He turned and punched the intercom. "Sutton to Kosuji."
"Kosuji here, Major."
"Captain, is Seraph 224 up?"
"Yes, sir. Her gripe list is almost clear."
"What’s left?"
"IFF isn’t working. Not a down gripe, but the bird can’t be wingman. She’ll have to lead the wing, or you’ll have to rewrite doctrine."
"Will Black make any noise?"
"No, sir."
"Give her the wing. Black will still lead the flight. Orders to follow."
"Yes, sir."
He released the intercom button. "Captain, I want you to direct this mission. You’ll know what you’re looking for."
"From the front, sir?"
He glanced back at the TO&E. "There’s no two-seater on the entire base; I think you’d better handle it from CIC."
"Yes, sir." She saluted, turned and left.
* * * * *
Seraph 224 leaped off the runway like it had sat on a tack. Sora couldn’t help but let out a cheerful, "Yahoo!"
"Calm down, Raptor Two."
"Sorry, sir. Just glad to be in the air."
"Roger that." Black keyed the all-call. "Raptor Flight, form up in ferry six. Hasukawa, take lead."
"Two." There was a question in her voice, but Seraph 224 slid forward to the point position.
"Our destination is near Louang Namtha; set course 271 for 575 kilometers. Angels twenty, four hundred kilometers base. Execute."
"Two."
"Three."
"Four."
"Five."
"Six."
* * * * *
Roberts glanced over at the navigation board. "Time to target is one hour twenty-five minutes, correct?"
"Yes, ma’am."
"At seven-twenty, I want the Ready One birds rotated. Pull Scorpio in from patrol, launch Leo, and put Aries on Ready One."
"Yes, ma’am."
She sipped her coffee, and considered the board. "The Drogans overflew Dien Chau; that would put them in the Gulf of Tonkin. Somewhere."
"Could they have been making for Sanya, ma’am?"
"Possibly." She considered sending a recon team to check out Sanya, then shook her head. "Let’s wait and see what Raptor develops."
* * * * *
"Area is cold. I’ve got a functioning heat pile at one end of the complex, but emissions look low for an Armour."
"Noted." Black considered the tactical situation. The Armour was crashed in a bowl-shaped depression, five miles in diameter. The bowl was filled with jungle, save for immediately around the Armour. Rocky ridges ringed the depression, sufficiently steep to make a low-angle approach impossible.
"Maximum range for Zentraedi particle-based weaponry is close to two miles...Ghost Lodge, this is Raptor One."
"Go ahead, Raptor."
"We are on site, and orbiting at five miles. No sign of enemy activity, and we’re not getting any thermals or active electromagnetics."
"Roger that."
He hesitated. "Ghost Lodge, I’m gonna send one wing in to take a closer look."
"Proceed with caution, Raptor."
"Of course. Raptor out." He clicked over to the Flight frequency. "Raptor Five and Six. I want you to make a close pass. If you spot anything at all, call it in immediately."
"Five."
"Six."
The two Valkyries broke off smoothly and started a close run on the structure.
"Looks like the structure took a hell of a beating when it crashed; I don’t see a lot of stuff still intact." Raptor Five adjusted his course, flying over the flight deck of the battered starship. "Looks like those elevators have seen use, though. And I’ve got some carbon scoring on the deck."
"Raptor Five. Any sign of anything hostile?"
"No, sir. Whatever was happening here, I think we missed it."
Black sighed. "Roger. Ghost Lodge, we’re going in."
"Confirmed, Raptor. Good luck."
"Right." He tilted the Valkyrie, bringing it nose-on to the warship. "Raptors Five and Six, switch to Soldier mode and police the area. Raptor Two, you’re with me; shift to Gerwalk."
"Two."
"Three and Four, stay high in Jet mode. Angels Fifteen." He reached forward and pulled the G lever, and the fighter reconfigured into Gerwalk mode. He adjusted his trim, and angled to meet the flight deck.
And his RWR went wild, for just an instant, then the entire cockpit went black. The flight controls went to mush in his hands, but he could feel the jet starting to sink. He rammed the throttle forward, stomped the rudder pedals, pulled back on the stick, but the ship continued to plummet. EMP bomb, he thought, and with that realization came the knowledge that even his ejector controls would not work. His engines flamed out, and the deck came rushing up at a horrible speed.
"Oh, sh--"
* * * * *
Sora watched in horror as Seraph 209 slammed into the Armour’s deck and exploded into a greasy fireball.
"This is Raptor Two to Ghost Lodge! Raptor One is down! And I think Raptor Six is as well." The Soldier Valkyrie was face down in the dirt, not moving. "I registered an enormous EMP spike just before Raptor One went down; I think they had an EMP bomb."
"Three’s hit!"
"What? Who’s shooting?"
"Four. It looks like a Shilka anti-aircraft tank. Hell, I count four of the damn things!"
Sora gritted her teeth. "All units, break and attack!" She thought the fighter through a punishing turn, readying her battle rifle as she did. "Ghost Lodge, we need reinforcements right now!"
"Roger, Raptor. Aries flight is launching now and will be hypersonic in thirty seconds. ETA five minutes. Break contact if you can."
"Understood, Ghost Lodge."
"Five. I’m picking up guidance radars, looks like a Tactical Scout and some Artillery Pods. They’re up on the ridge."
"Kuso...if we try to climb out of here, they’ll take us apart." She gritted her teeth. "We’re gonna have to try to kill those Shilkas."
* * * * *
"Aries Flight, go-mission."
"Roger!"
Ready One was a bit of a misnomer; the time to launch the Ready One was just under ten seconds. The canopy was already closed; Warrant Officer Chambers merely advanced the throttle to maximum, and the VF-4A Lightning III lifted off vertically from the runway. To his left, Barak 106 was launching in parallel.
"Aries Two, reconfigure and activate the rockets."
"Two."
The booster rockets, attached to the back of the modular fighters, flared into life, and Chambers was slammed back into his seat. The ten gees of acceleration provided by the two massive rockets was dangerous, even with the fighter’s compensation gear, but the pilots were only exposed to it for twenty seconds. But by the time the expended rockets were ejected, the fighters were moving at close to seven thousand kilometers per hour.
* * * * *
Seraph 211 had been badly hit by the Shilka, but was still combat-worthy, and Rhodes pulled the bird around to engage her attacker.
"Three’s in and hot on missiles." Her Valkyrie bucked, as six rockets were launched from the underwing pylons. The Shilka ignored them, and hammered away at the jet itself. Rhodes yanked the plane away from the tracers, managing to avoid getting hit, and four of the six rockets slammed into the Shilka.
The others in the Flight were not doing as well. Five was pinned down in Soldier mode, unable to leave cover. Four was covering his wingman’s six, and Sora herself was trying to get close to a Shilka without being spotted...
The Shilka hammered the area around her fighter, one round actually connecting with her ship’s arm. She yelled in transmitted pain as the explosive shell smashed through the left arm’s plating and detonated inside the arm. She viffed straight up, catching the gunner by surprise, and hosed it down with fire from her GU-11 cannon.
The Shilka made a very satisfying fireball, and she slid the Gerwalk back under cover. A glance at the left arm told her that this bird would be back on the down list for a while.
"I greased one. What’s left?"
"Three. I killed mine, but that leaves the north gun and the west gun still alive. Plus those artillery pods on the southeast wall."
"Five. If one of you can distract the north gun, I can kill it."
"Three, strafe the north gun. Four, back me up, and we’ll kill the west gun."
"Roger, ma’am."
"Incoming! Rick, they’re on you!"
The long-range Zentraedi missile slammed into Raptor Four, and Seraph 212 came apart. Three other missiles detonated nearby, their proximity warheads triggered by the first explosion.
"Crap, we’re not gonna win this one. Aries, where are you?"
"Raptor, Aries. We are three minutes out. We have the artillery spotted, and will clobber that first."
"Got it." She shifted to Soldier, relieved that her damaged machine could still make that transformation, and reloaded her GU-11. "I’m getting the west gun."
"Roger that. I’m starting my attack run on the north gun."
She thought the mecha into a staggering run, and a Zentraedi missile slammed into the ground right where she had been standing. Fragments peppered the Valkyrie, but not enough to stop it. She jumped a ridge, a brief boost from her fusion engines launching her over it, and sighted the west gun. She doubted she could hit it, but fired a short burst from the GU-11 anyway. She hit the ground before they landed, and ran forwards.
"Three’s in and hot on lasers."
Not much need for radio procedure, with half the flight already out. The foliage and dirt around her was kicked up as the ZSU-23 fired in her general direction. Luck was not with the AA gunner this time, and Hasukawa threw her mecha face down in the dirt, the rifle/cannon extended before her.
"Goodbye."
She depressed the trigger and hosed down the Shilka, tearing it open like a chainsaw through a pumpkin.
"Three’s off target, and I’ve got a secondary!"
"Nice shooting, Three, but it’s still tracking. Get down!"
"It missed, don’t worry."
"About you?" Another explosion. "Never. Five’s killed north gun with Stinger missiles."
Hasukawa clicked her mike. "Roger that. Now we gotta take out those artillery pods."
"Don’t worry about those, Raptor. We’ll deal with them.".
Hasukawa sighed. "About time the Cavalry showed up."
"Raptor, Ghost Lodge. Casualties?"
"Ghost Lodge, Raptor. Three fighters down, Lieutenant Black is dead, but I think Supak and Tsushima are okay." She stood the Soldier mode Valkyrie back up, and reconfigured to Gerwalk. "I got a locator on Supak, he must’ve ejected, and Tsushima’s signaling from inside his Valkyrie." She winced; her left arm still hurt like hell, the damage messages transferred in a most convincing way through the Thinking Cap. "My jet is all torn up as well."
"Roger that, Raptor. We are vectoring Leo to your position; they’ll assume your mission as soon as they arrive. Captain Kosuji will take over; you can abandon your jet."
Sora scowled, and launched the Valkyrie into the air. "No way in hell."
"Two?"
"I ain’t ditching this bird." She brought the Valkyrie to its best possible speed, and pointed it towards Haiphong. "Major told me he’d ground me if I lost this ship. I ain’t leavin’ it here. I don’t care if it takes me a week to get back to Ghost Lodge."
* * * * *