Part Five Chapter Two

Index

Part Five Chapter Four

Disclaimer

Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me.

The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me.

I didn’t create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Please don’t sue me.

"In conclusion: The female alien known as Nitaka has refused to give any information outside of her name, rank and service number. Although she has been guarded for the last two weeks by three Destroids, she has made six attempts to destroy her guards and escape. Her present quarters help minimize the threat of her escape, but cannot eliminate it entirely."

Gloval stirred. "And where exactly are you keeping her?"

Colonel Maistroff coughed, and continued. "We have her in one of the old giant quarters, one that had not been partitioned for Human use. The room in question is one of the more structurally reinforced rooms, and we believe that it may have originally been officer’s quarters."

"Good." Gloval pulled out his pipe and began to pack the bowl. "If we must have a prisoner, at least she is well cared for. What of the ship itself?"

Maistroff sat down. "Commander?"

Lisa Hayes stood up, and touched a button on her remote. The screen at the far end of the briefing room flared to life, showing gun camera footage from Web Lead, the Rapier in command of the boarding team. "Intelligence estimates that this class of ship has a four-hundred man crew. When Web performed their sweep and clear, the number on board turned out to be closer to ninety. The unarmoured women put up a valiant fight, and most of the Irregulars’ mecha are in for repairs. The ship’s Mecha hangars were empty."

"How many mecha did the ship carry?"

"We believe it carried about a hundred. Approximately fifty were engaged by Green, Skull and Web; perhaps thirty of those were destroyed. Intel has found evidence that the remaining fifty that should have been on the recon ship had been broken up for spare parts."

Gloval nodded. "This damages your theory, Commander, that the aliens do not know how to repair their damaged mecha."

"I disagree, Captain." Lisa shook her head. "They have cannibalized their own mecha, because they cannot manufacture even the simplest replacement part."

* * * * *

Miriya’s eyes were wide. "They simply let anyone choose to repair mecha?"

"It’s not quite that simple." Ryouga was seated next to Miriya on a park bench, and had been spending the last half hour telling her about how he came to be in the U.N. Spacy. "Originally I had wanted to fly the Valkyrie, but that takes a certain mindset that I couldn’t achieve."

"What sort of mindset?"

"The guy who tested me described it as being asleep in the cockpit, without letting it affect your flying." He shook his head. "Sounds nuts to me. Then I wanted to drive the Destroids. But it turns out that Cavalry pilots have their own special qualifications, that I didn’t have. Levels of multitasking and versatility that someone as single-minded as I just can’t match. So then some guy asks me to put together this silly little puzzle, while six other guys were yelling and screaming all around me - I’m serious! Stop laughing!"

"I’m sorry." She composed her face, but couldn’t stop snickering.

"Anyway. After that, they tell me I could be a mechanic." He shrugged. "There aren’t too many combat positions on this ship that I didn’t flunk out of, but a mechanic is a good, respectable position. I specialized in avionics and endo-frames, and learned Variable Engineering."

Miriya smiled, the same predatory smile that Ranma said made her look like a panther. "You know...I’ve always been rather interested in the Valkyries. Do you think you could manage to get me into one? Just for a look around, that is."

"Err..." Ryouga scratched the back of his head. "I dunno...I think it’s against regulations."

She leaned up against him, and placed a hand on his arm. "Please?"

"Welllll...Ah!" He smacked a fist into his hand. "I know what I can do! I can get you a check-ride in a VF-1D!"

"A what?"

"It’s a two-seat training model of the Valkyrie. Mostly the same, but with redundant controls in the back seat for the flight instructor. We had twelve of them originally, but because they are fully combat capable machines, we fielded many of them, and now we only have five. One of those is a reserve jet for the Irregulars."

She tilted her head. "You mean you can not only get me into a Valkyrie, but actually let me fly one?"

"Well, it couldn’t be me. I’m not trained to operate a Valkyrie. It would have to be one of the Irregulars." He grinned. "And I know just which one should be doing this!"

* * * * *

"This is a really stupid idea," groused Ranma.

"What’s the problem, Captain? Too good to give a civilian a check flight?"

"Has it ever occurred to you, Ryouga, that she’s from a known anti-Unification country?" Ranma scowled. "I know, she’s part of the Joketsuzoku, but they’re still governed by China. More or less."

Ryouga shrugged. "So? Fokker gave Hunter a check ride, and he was underage at that point."

"Hunter wrecked that jet."

"Hunter was alone in that jet when he wrecked it. You’re gonna be right behind Miriya during the whole trip."

Ranma tried to think of some other reason why this was a bad idea, and failed. He threw up his hands. "Fine! So be it! Give an Amazon a check-ride in a Valkyrie!" He pushed the document across the desk. "You sign it."

Ryouga did so, then slid it back. "You’ve gotta countersign, Captain. You’re the officer, and the jet is attached to your Squadron."

"I ain’t signin’ that!"

There was a knock at the door, and Ranma’s scowl deepened. "Come!"

Lisa Hayes stepped into the room. "Captain."

"Commander. How may I help you?"

She dropped another form on the desk. "I’m afraid that I have to refuse your request for Akane Tendo to be transferred to your squadron."

Ranma nodded. "I kinda figured, but I had to try."

"I understand."

"Can ya send me Wyatt instead?"

Lisa frowned, and dug into her folder. "Jane Wyatt? Isn’t she a Fallen Angel?"

"Yep."

Lisa had found Wyatt’s folder, and flipped through it. "I could almost call conflict on this one too, Ranma..."

Ranma nodded. "But you’re not gonna, right?"

"I didn’t really want to on Tendo, either." She closed the folder. "I’ll approve Wyatt’s transfer to the Irregulars."

"Thanks, Commander."

"Hey, what are friends for?" She glanced down at the desk. "What’s this?"

Ranma sighed. "My plane captain, here, has went and fallen in love--"

"Hey!"

"--and wants to give his girlfriend a check-ride in a VF-1D."

Lisa frowned. "In a war zone?"

"She’s an Amazon."

Lisa nodded. "Like that Shampoo girl you told me about, right?"

"Bingo."

"As long as it’s not the other kind of Amazon..." She pulled out a pen and signed the paper. "There! All legal. And I see that you’ve volunteered to drive the jet for her, eh, Ranma?"

Ranma started thumping his head on the desk.

"...Ranma?"

"It’s not fair...it’s not fair..."

* * * * *

Tech Sergeant Nitaka was not happy.

It wasn’t her quarters that bothered her, though it rankled her to be in a Zentraedi Officer’s suite. Nor was it her current state of captivity. Such things were bound to happen in war. She had been allowed to retain her uniform, as well as her rank insignia and decorations, and was fed regularly.

But she was bored senseless.

Escape attempts had been quite entertaining, right up to and even including the moment she was clubbed unconscious by one of the Micronian mecha. But this new prison was as close to escape-proof as she had seen in a long time. The first thing she’d checked was the weapons locker that every Zentraedi Officer kept, but the Micrones had found it first, and removed any weapons that might have lived there. She had tried using brute strength against the door, and failed.

She smacked a fist into the palm of her hand. Of course, the ventilation shaft! Probably the Micrones had ignored it, given the fact that no Zentran could fit inside, but she was Meltraedi. Smaller than a Zentran, and small even for her own people. She knelt, and forced the grate open.

And cursed. The Micrones had considered this, after all. Some sort of high-energy device was active inside the shaft, generating a lattice of crimson beams, blocking it off. She considered for a moment, then lunged forward.

The beams burned her skin, but she ignored the searing pain and wrapped her hands around the generator. She quickly pulled it into the room with her, and turned it so it no longer was injuring her.

She smiled; the Micrones may have made their last mistake.

* * * * *

"Are you wearin’ a bra, Miriya?"

Miriya frowned. "I may not understand your culture completely, Ranma, but even I know that this is not considered an acceptable question."

"There’s a good reason." Ranma held up a flight suit. "These things are designed to protect you from gees by compressing against the skin. If you’re wearin’ a bra, it’ll interfere with the pressure, and the suit won’t work right."

"Ah. In that case, yes. I am."

He tossed her the suit. "There’s a locker room over there. Go change into this, and take off the bra. If you don’t feel like leavin’ it in one of the spare lockers, you can stuff it in a pocket on the suit."

She was gone only a minute, barely long enough for Ranma to log into the Tac Net and file his flight plan. She emerged almost fearfully from the locker room, dressed in the shapeless bag of a U.N. Spacy flight suit. Ranma adjusted the seals and buckles on the suit, and noted the darker patches where the U.N. Spacy insignia had been removed.

"What happened to the patches?"

She wordlessly handed them over.

Ranma scratched his head. "Why’d you take these off?"

"It’s obvious that you don’t want this duty, Ranma. Why did you agree to do it?"

"Duty ain’t a voluntary thing. Thought an Amazon would understand that. Don’t change the subject."

"I..." She sighed. "I figured you’d be happier with this, if I wasn’t wearing your flag."

Ranma considered this, then nodded. "It’s not you I have a problem with, just..." He tossed the insignia in his hand. "Well, thanks for thinkin’ of me, anyway. Let’s get down to the flight deck."

* * * * *

The VF-1D was, coincidentally, the same one that Ranma had flown on his first Valkyrie flight. He smiled as they approached it; it had been almost a year since he’d sat in the seat of this machine, and gotten the best shock of his life.

Miriya was rubbernecking, as was only to be expected. "Which fighter is yours?"

He pointed down the bay. "That one there." He paused. "What the heck...?" He ran down the bay, and grabbed Private Cloud. "What the heck have you done to my jet?"

She shrugged, as best she could with Ranma’s fist wrapped around the front of her tunic. "Standard operating procedure, Captain. You’ve made twenty-five kills."

He dropped her, and turned to look at the airplane in dismay. Gone were the comfortable white and black markings; the jet was blood-red across most of the frame, with the nosecone and engine nacelles painted black. "D’you have any idea how bad this is gonna stand out in battle?"

Miriya was also looking at the jet. "I think it is quite appealing, Captain." She noted the tail numbers, and frowned. "Are you the only pilot who uses this particular Mecha?"

"Far as I know, yeah." He shivered suddenly, as Miriya’s panther smile slipped into place.

Private Cloud spoke up. "While you were in stockade, Captain, the plane was assigned to Skull Squadron. Max Sterling flew it."

Miriya blinked. "Sterling?"

"Yeah. He’s an even better pilot than the Captain, here."

"Don’t remind me," growled Ranma.

Miriya’s smile tightened. "I must meet this Sterling sometime."

"No problem. I can arrange that." Ranma shook his head in disgust. "Stupid-looking paint scheme."

* * * * *

"Okay, I’m putting you in the front seat for two reasons. First, it’s because you’ll have a much better view. Second, it’s because if we need to leave the airplane, you’ll have an easier time of it."

"Understood."

"Good." He handed her a helmet. "You’ll need this."

She strapped the helmet on, adjusting it for fit. Such things were not needed in a Quadlunn-Rau; it took her a bit to fit it properly. Once she finished, Ranma pointed at a socket on the console. "Plug your helmet in here, and your gloves here."

"Gloves?"

He tossed her a pair. "Gloves."

"Right."

"This control here is the throttle; your microphone button is here. Press it to be able to talk to me; release to listen. This is the stick; it controls where the airplane goes. I’ll be letting you try flying the plane once we’re out there."

She raised an eyebrow. "That’s rather above what Ryouga suggested, is it not? Also above what you actually need to do?"

Ranma shrugged. "If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. Ejector controls are here or here; don’t touch ’em unless you’re absolutely certain you wish to leave the plane. If you hear me say ’eject’ for any reason while we’re airborne, grab the handles and pull, or you’ll be doin’ your first and last solo in a Valkyrie."

"Understood." She glanced around the cockpit, taking in the rest of the controls.

"Then we’re set."

* * * * *

"Vee Tee One Oh Seven to Tower. We are go for launch."

"Cleared, 107. Have fun."

"Yeah, right."

Miriya smiled at the tone of Ranma’s voice. For all that he was grumbling, she could tell that he didn’t really resent this flight. If he was at all like her, he’d take any excuse to fly.

She felt a surge of power as Ranma advanced the throttles, and a surge of...something else. She frowned; it was almost as though she could feel the increase in power, rumbling deep in the engines, feel the wings draw back as the fighter accelerated.

The nose of the fighter lifted, and the jet sailed off the carrier deck. They were launching from the Promotheus, which was not normally used for carrier operations. The fighter banked, and once again, she felt the turn...and she realized what was happening.

The Micrones have perfected a pilot/machine mental link!

It merely confirmed something she’d suspected for weeks now.

These Micrones must be preserved, not destroyed. They have technological and psychological advances that we must not allow to vanish, and must deny to the Zentraedi at all costs!

* * * * *

Ranma pulled the jet through a nice, leisurely bank, keeping one eye on the instruments and one on deep space. It was a good day to be out on a joyride; the nearest alien battlewagon was far outside even the Macross’ powerful radar system. He tapped a control, checking the forward AWACS’ readout, and nodded. Nothing as far as the electronic eye could see.

It had been a long time since he had piloted a fusion-engine fighter; he reminded himself to check the engine readouts. All were fine, well in the green; his eyes drifted over to the Reflex instruments.

Whoa!

Miriya’s readouts, as picked up by the ’Thinking Cap’ and gloves, were completely blue. She was completely, and unconsciously, linked to the mecha. She could make it do anything at this point, anything at all, and probably didn’t even realize it.

Her thought patterns must be completely regimented...not really surprising for an Amazon. They’re probably potty-trained at gunpoint.

He checked his Nav system; already two hundred klicks from the boat. "Ready to give it a try, Miriya?" "Sure."

"Front seat’s airplane."

His instruments gave him a backseat view of her driving, one of the other reasons he’d taken this seat. Her movement of the throttle and stick were jerky and uncertain; the movements of the plane were not. She brought the fighter through several simple maneuvers, then some trickier ones. Ranma glanced over to the Reflex instruments again; still all blue.

Incredible.

She snapped the fighter through some very tight banks, and Ranma felt the legs swing forward to accomplish the turns. Her hands did not touch the reconfiguration levers.

"Miriya, have you ever considered joining U.N. Spacy?"

"I have, but I don’t think I would be accepted."

"Why not?"

She chuckled. "How do you say it? Illegal alien."

The Tac Net crackled.

"Captain Saotome? Sorry to interrupt your joyride, but we have a serious problem here."

* * * * *

The gun was difficult to aim, with no sights, but at such short range, Nitaka had no difficulty blowing the Valkyrie apart. Her improvised laser pistol, built from the Micronian laser-field generator, had lasted just long enough to disable one Destroid and steal its rifle/cannon.

Six more Valkyries were sweepin down on her position, launching missiles. She knew that these would be knockout gas, and simply held her breath as they burst around her. The gun howled in her hands again, and she dragged tracer fire across three of the Veritechs, carving them up like roast meat. She laughed hysterically.

"Come on, Micrones! Bring your whole army!"

* * * * *

"Miriya, there’s an emergency in the city. I have to take this mecha into combat. I don’t really have time to offload you, but I will if you want."

Miriya glanced at the computer readouts before her. "You have no weapons on this mecha."

"Don’t worry about that. You want off?"

She shook her head. "No."

"All right." He advanced the throttles, diving towards the main body of the Macross.

The Tac Net crackled again, and Hayes’ face filled his commo screen. "Skull, Green and Sepia are on deep recon patrol; Blue’s returning from patrol at full afterburner, but they’re still twelve minutes out. Can you fold?"

"Not in this fighter, and not in male form. And I can’t change to female at the moment, either."

"I understand." She leaned off-screen, then returned. "Where are you off-loading your passenger?"

"No time."

"But--"

"I said I don’t have the freakin’ time!" He cut the connection, reconfigured to Gerwalk, and dropped into the city.

Miriya was fiddling with the radar controls in the front. "What are we looking for?"

Ranma grinned. "Giant Amazon goin’ nuts downtown."

"...Amazon?"

"Yeah." He ejected the current ammo clip in the GU-11 - it had been loaded with paintballs, just in case - and rammed in a live clip. "We captured one, and she’s broken loose. She’s goin’ nuts with a cannon downtown."

"Got her." Miriya haloed the giant, and pulled up an image from the front cameras. And gasped; she knew this one.

The Tac Net opened again. "Captain, you are authorized to use lethal force to stop the alien."

"Understood."

"No!" Miriya twisted around in her seat. "Can’t you capture her?"

"Your passenger’s sympathy is admirable." Lisa smiled slightly. "But unless you have a Valkyrie-scale stunner..."

"Negative on that, Commander, and no gas rounds either."

"Your orders stand, Captain."

Miriya stuck a gun in his face.

He boggled; where the heck had she gotten a sidearm? There had been none such in her suit when he had fitted her, he’d made certain of that...The survival kit. He cursed himself for forgetting that a 9mm pistol was standard issue in a pilot’s survival kit, in the left-hand pocket of the ejector seat. He considered going for his own, and realized there was no way he could make it in time.

Miriya’s face was all business. "Turn the airplane over to me. I can stop her."

"I can’t do that, Miriya. I have my orders."

"Do it, or I swear by all that’s holy I will blow your brains out."

"Miriya, I’ve got to stop her before she kills any more--"

"I can stop her."

"How?"

Miriya’s face betrayed a momentary struggle, then her features hardened again. "I am First Lieutenant Miriya Parino, commander of the First Assault Group of the Second Quadrano Battalion of the Meltraedi. I am also Nitaka’s commanding officer, and she will listen to me."

"An...You’re an alien?"

She smiled. "Yes, and one who has already shot you down twice. And if you tell me to ’go suck eggs’ this time, I will kill you."

From the communications console, Lisa addressed the Amazon. "Miriya, are you certain you can stop her?"

"Yes."

"Then do it."

"Hold on!" Ranma scowled. "Has the whole goddamn world gone insane? Commander, we’re talkin’ about handin’ a Valkyrie over to an enemy ace!"

"Captain Saotome, this is a direct order. Give her the jet."

Ranma spoke very softly. "Front seat’s airplane."

* * * * *

Nitaka hesitated as the Valkyrie dropped down in front of her, one hand raised in a Meltraedi salute. She raised the gun pod level at the mecha’s chest, and waited.

There was a crackle of static as the mecha engaged its external speakers.

"Nitaka, this is Parino. Stand down. Drop your weapon. Go with the Micronian mecha, and do not attempt to escape again."

"Lieutenant?" Nitaka lowered her cannon. "Have you defected?"

"No, though I am certain that I shall be a prisoner in mere moments. Do as I say. All will become clear shortly."

It didn’t take long; obedience to a higher-ranking officer was ingrained in every facet of Meltraedi culture. Nitaka dropped the rifle/cannon, raised her hands, and crossed them at the wrist.