Here's a little something that blasted its way into my mind while I was at work.
Please Enjoy!
Robotech is the property of Harmony Gold.
R.I.P. Carl! Us Robotech fans miss you.
Breetai's Gambit.
Space; a Final Frontier. Or, if you will, a vast almost unexplored wilderness waiting to be further explored by Terran Civilization. Empty except for the scattered particles that may someday combine to birth a new planet or star. In this vast darkness lit only by the balls of unknown gases that form stars there were no signs of life…until a green monster over three and a half miles long suddenly appeared in a bright flash of light.
Soon, the light dissipated and the monster was revealed to be an enormous warship bristling with closed weapons ports and sealed hatches. Aboard this vessel, and the million-ship strong fleet it led, lived a race of space-faring warrior giants.
Behold. The Zentraedi had arrived.
Aboard his Nupitiet-Vergnitzs class flagship, the commander of this massive fleet, Breetai Tul sat in the dimly-lit quarters he called his own and pondered all that had happened in his career up to this point. You see, dear readers, Breetai was the Zentraedi's senior-most fleet commander. His experiences in battle were second to only one. He was the strongest, most experienced, most ruthless strategic genius in all of the Zentraedi. The leader of all Zentraedi, Supreme Commander Lord Dolza, had placed more trust in his most feared subordinate than in any other.
Yet for the first time in his life, Breetai had been 'beached', relieved of his command in the presently ongoing campaign to retrieve Zor's battlefortress. To add insult to injury (a major undertaking in itself), Breetai had been relieved by… a woman.
Granted, Lady Azonia Laplamiz and her Quadrono Battalion were quite effective in any endeavor they were assigned; it still rankled Breetai to no end to be replaced by a mere woman. In the male-dominated culture of the warrior giant Zentraedi, to be the fleet commander many looked up and aspired towards, to be summarily yanked from command and replaced by…by…. by a female was, in a word, humiliating.
Shaking his head to dissolve those thoughts, Breetai returned his mind to coming up with new and more devastating strategies to use against the wily enemy that was the reason for his removal in the first place:
Those wily Micronians who had inherited and rebuilt Lord Zor's one-of-a kind ship after it had crash landed on their planet during its escape from the swarming forces of the hated Invid.
Yet in the back of his mind, Breetai took a smug pleasure in what he expected Azonia's reaction to his reassuming command of the force attempting to recapture the lost battlefortress with the Zentraedi Imperial Fleet under his direct command.
Oh, Azonia's going to be soooo pissed when he returns.
Aboard Super Dimensional Fortress One, or SDF-1 as it was known by all who inhabited her, a young second lieutenant in the Robotech Defense Force walked aimlessly around the city rebuilt within the massive alien spaceship a year or so before. Second Lieutenant Benjamin 'Ben' Dixon of the RDF's vaunted Skull Squadron was reliving the near death experience he'd had on his last sortie.
It had been the first flight for him and his best friend Second Lieutenant Maximillian 'Max' Sterling flying veritechs displaying the infamous Skull and Crossbones of Skull Squadron after its previous commander, Lieutenant Commander Roy Fokker, had been shot down. At the moment Commander Fokker was recovering from the injuries to his back that he'd sustained in an intense dogfight about three weeks ago.
Ben was wandering because, for the first time in his career as a fighter pilot, he had come millimeters close to not returning from a mission when the new Omni-Directional Barrier had gone prompt critical and overloaded in a spectacular display of fireworks. His newly assigned J-model VF-1J veritech had been caught up in the expanding sickly green fireball that had engulfed the Ontario Quadrant.
The six foot four inch pilot stumbled as his mind replayed his desperate escape from the death-dealing fireball. Again his stomach threatened to reject the large steak from his favorite steakhouse he'd started to eat before duty had called and cause the remnants of dinner to come spilling down his sweatshirt. It had only been because of the rumored speed advantage the J-models possessed over the A-model VF-1A veritechs that he had flown since his initial fighter assignment after graduating from basic training that the young veteran pilot had survived his dance with the shinigami.
"Thank god that the commander reassigned me from a -1A to a -1J after he'd woken up in the Intensive Care Unit of the base hospital even if he'd had Vince Grant come down to the fighter bays and yank me out of my fighter and drop kick me into the cockpit of that newly delivered J model in front of all of those onlookers. It also didn't help that Fokker had-somehow-got a message to Rick telling him to ground me if I didn't accept this new assignment. I had no choice but to accept unless I wanted to end up flying battle-ready VT-1D's for the rest of my life.", mused Ben as his wobbling knees forced him to sit down on a handy bench before he took a header into the nearby light pole.
All but collapsing onto the obliging bench, Ben managed a less than graceful landing on the hard metal alloy. Leaning back he covered his eyes with a hand to block out the harsh 'sunlight' of the ships' EVE program to simulate day and night. Taking a few deep breaths to clear his head, Ben wondered what he was going to do with the second chance at life he'd been given. He wasn't going to squander it that was for damn sure.
Waiting for a little while longer to verify that when he stood up his legs wouldn't buckle and drop him unceremoniously back on to the bench, Ben rose to his feet and continued his meanderings through Macross City. He had a lot more to think about before returning to his quarters. If Ben had remained in place for another five minutes he would have been treated to the sight of a beautiful woman with long green hair beating the stuffing out of a pair of sunglasses wearing sidewalk cowboys that had propositioned her as she stalked through the city in search of her prey.
Aboard his flagship, it was supposed to be Breetai's rest cycle yet he was sitting at the desk in his quarters watching a recording of Commander Azonia's report. Breetai and the rest of the Imperial Fleet had arrived in system less than twenty-four time cycles earlier to retake command of the remnants of his recovery force from Azonia. Of course, the commander of the elite all-female Quadrono Battalion hadn't been happy to be relieved of operational command and had welcomed him back with less than open arms and the de-rigueur veiled insults at the size of his new fleet. Breetai had taken great pleasure in cutting off communications with Azonia when it was reported that the three spies had been re-enlarged and were waiting for him and Exedore in one of the briefing rooms to give their report on what they had discovered during their infiltration mission aboard the Micronian ship.
After the several hours long debrief, Breetai had come away with not much new information on his enemies. In addition, he got the distinct feeling that Rico, Konda, and Bron had held some things back. Pausing the recording, Breetai leaned back in his seat, crossed his massive arms, and pondered the information gathered by Azonia during his preemptory reassignment. Many battles had been fought since then and the Zentraedi had not fared as well as expected.
Breetai had been a bit surprised when he found out that Commander Khyron of the justifiably feared (even among the usually fearless Zentraedi) Seventh Mechanized Division of the Botoru Battalion had reigned in his usual reckless ways, somewhat, during his time in command of the fleet after Breetai had folded to Lord Dolza's Headquarters with his prisoners and before Azonia had arrived to take over.
"I bet Khyron was not happy when Azonia arrived to take command. If the communications between their respective Queadol-Magdomilla flagships are anything to go by.", mused Breetai as he continued his thinking.
Putting those thoughts aside, Breetai went back to Azonia's report. It had surprised Breetai to find out that Flight Officer Miriya Parino, the Zentraedi's Ace of Aces, had been defeated. Even more astonishing was the fact that the proud Quadrono had allowed herself the humiliating indignity of being micronized so she could be inserted aboard the battlefortress to avenge her defeat and deprive those wily Micronians of one of their best pilots. Something flickered into gradual awareness somewhere in the back of Breetai's mind. It was there for a nanosecond then gone like a frightened Trog. No matter what he did, Breetai could not recapture that errant thought. In the end, the highly decorated warrior giant grunted his displeasure at the lost thought.
Deciding to get some rest before the end of his rest cycle, the great Breetai gave orders to the commanders of the Noshiran and Harmesta assault groups to prepare for an attack on the Micronian ship sometime after he awoke. Shutting down his monitor, Breetai climbed into bed and slept a warrior's sleep.
The commander of the vaunted and feared Seventh Mechanized Division of the Botoru Battalion was not happy. Once again, his forces had attacked the enemy. And once again their attack had been blunted by the forces of those dastardly Micronians and their thrice-dammed veritechs. Captain Khyron was starting to get extremely agitated by the successes of his enemies. It didn't help that Lord Dolza had ordered the Zentraedi to capture the battle fortress instead of destroying the bothersome ship outright.
"Cosmos! If only the old one would just go ahead and let us do what we will with that dammed ship!.", growled Khyron as he stalked his command center while watching the screen showing the disposition of his retreating forces.
His three most loyal subordinates Grel, Gerao, and Zeraal stood at attention nearby. Grel and Gerao were assigned aboard the Queadol-Magdomilla battalion command ship while Zeraal commanded another ship-a Thuveral-Salan-in the battalion. No one said anything as their commander vented his displeasure at the continued stalemate. Used to using the shock and awe tactics that Khyron and the rest of his battalion were known for to quickly and decisively win an overwhelming victory over all enemies, the members of the 7th weren't used to these long, dawn out battles with tenacious opponents who only seemed to get stronger with each passing skirmish.
Khyron stormed over to one of the consoles and slammed a meaty fist on its surface. Glaring at the now blank screen, Khyron wondered if his forces would ever receive the order removing the restraints imposed by the old one so the Seventh could do what it excelled at; namely breaking shit and destroying things. Gazing one last time at the tactical display the devilishly handsome shifted his eyes to the symbol designating the location for the fleet under the command of Azonia Laplamiz and her annoyingly damnable Quadrono Battalion; the only unit able to equal and exceed the Botoru in ruthlessness and fear.
Seeing that Lord Breetai had-wisely-moved the ships of the Quadrono to the side of his flagship opposite Khyron's own Queadol-Magdomilla command ship, he smirked. Breetai knew of the particularly vindictive acrimony between two of his most successful unit commanders. Khyron still fumed over losing command of the force to Azonia when Breetai had been relieved by Supreme Commander Dolza for drawing out the retrieval of Zor's ship. Crossing his arms over his chest, Khyron angrily flung himself into his command chair and continued his angry murmurings. One of the bridge crew cautiously approached the livid man and cleared his throat. Lord Breetai had just sent a communication out to the entire fleet about the next offensive against the enemy and detailing his strategy.
Khyron gave the man an icy glare that promised misery if the explanation for the interruption was not good enough to settle his rage. On some occasions, he took the phrase 'kill the messenger' quite literally.
"Commander, we've received a communication from the flagship about the next assault."
"Oh we have, have we? Did Breetai finally remove the restrictions about destroying that pathetic little ship?", snapped Khyron as he leaned forward in his seat.
"Ah, no milord, the order to capture the enemy ship intact is still valid. Lord Breetai has ordered the Noshiran and Harmesta assault groups to prepare for an attack sometime in the next thirty or so time cycles. Commander, we of the Seventh Mechanized Division have been ordered to stand by and form a second attack wave if the first wave does not succeed.", gulped the messenger nervously as he watched Commander Khyron.
Throwing up his hands in disgust, Khyron flung himself out his command chair and stormed to the tactical plotting table in the middle of the bridge. Seething, the one known as 'The Backstabber' ignored his three subordinates and gazed at the table in front of him. Again, he and his battalion were being held in reserve to form a second attack wave. It vexed him so.
Across from his fuming commander, Gerao cast a quick look at the displayed positions. Like Lord Khyron, Gerao was furious that the mighty Seventh Mechanized Division of the Botoru Battalion was not being used in the first assault. However, unlike Khyron, Gerao held in his rage to be unleashed at the proper time. Seeing the symbols for the units assigned this first attack, Gerao searched for a certain unit symbol. Not seeing it, he allowed a mental sigh of relief. If that unit had been assigned to the first assault, there would have been no stopping the rage Commander Kravshera would have unleashed.
Deciding to do the right thing and inform Lord Khyron of what he had noticed, Gerao took a deep breath.
"Lord Khyron, contain your rage. According to this display, Lady Azonia's Battalion is also being held back by Commander Breetai.
Gerao's words information about his most determined rival had Khyron smirking in triumph. At least that blasted, meddling idiot of a woman and her equally damnable Quadrono's weren't going into battle with the first wave as well. Azonia would never let him live it down if her troops went in to battle and his were left out. Smothering a virulent curse at the thought of seeing that ever present smirk of superiority on Azonia's face, Khyron leaned forward and continued his observations of the developing battle.
Lieutenant Commander Richard B., 'Rick' Hunter, the new commander of the Skull Squadron and the Fighter Wing aboard the SDF-1 sighed in relief as the Zentraedi battlepod he'd been fighting exploded into cosmic dust after his well-placed missile struck it from behind. Checking his radar screens and the combat data center aboard the ship and receiving confirmation that for the present time he was not being hounded by the enemy, Rick gazed outside his cockpit at the battles going on around the ship he called home.
He could see the blue and white VF-1J of his second in command and one of his best friends Max Sterling going head to head with six of the enemy fighter pods. Shifting his gaze just a little, Rick could see the newly painted gold and black VF-1J of his other best friend Ben Dixon and his newly assigned fire team in battloid mode as they battled a group of battlepods on the hull of the fortress while covering as command rapidly summoned a reserve destroid squad to replace the squad that had been destroyed earlier in the battle.
With another check of his radar, Rick could see that the members of Outlaw Squadron held their own against several other enemy pods in a furious furball above the aft end of the cruiser mode battle fortress. Though he wasn't sure what to think about the new squadron since they had arrived after going AWOL en mass from Alaska Base and landing aboard the SDF-1 during another skirmish before the fortress had been kicked off of the planet, Rick sighed in relief as the Outlaws did the job assigned to them. From listening in on the squadron's radio communications, the young air group commander was able to tell that the members of Outlaw Squadron were relieved to actually be doing their jobs.
When the major in command of the eight men and women had first told Rick what he and his subordinates had done, Rick's first instinct was to court martial the whole group and toss them in the brig for deserting. However, he'd listened to the entire story and decided to give the nine pilots a chance to redeem themselves in his eyes. Passing his report on to Captain Gloval with his recommendation that the members of the squadron be accepted as members of the Fighter Wing under his command, Rick thanked space that Captain Gloval had agreed with his recommendation after listening to the group explain their actions in the conference room in front of him and the rest of the senior officers. Not many agreed with Rick's suggestion-Colonel Maistroff was all in favor of sending the pilots back to Alaska Base to face trial for desertion in the face of the enemy-but appealing to the captain about the need for a replacement squadron to fill in the spot left by the loss of almost a complete squadron had gotten the major and his people a reprieve.
After bringing the squadron up to a full strength by shuffling some of his veteran pilots around the wing, Rick hadn't regretted his decision in the least. In the numerous battles since the squadron had been permanently reassigned to the Prometheus, they had changed the tide of battle of several occasions as they rushed in to defend the ship as the enemy attempted to push their attacks. Rick had already awarded several air medals to members of the squadron for their actions since joining his fighter wing. On the desk in his office sat the paperwork to award Outlaw Leader the Titanium Medal of Valor for his actions in a battle a few weeks before.
"Skull Leader, Gunsight One.", came the voice of Commander Lisa Hayes on the bridge.
"Go ahead Gunsight One. You have Skull Leader.", replied Rick as he brought Skull One around in preparation for a return to the battle.
"Outlaw Six is requesting assistance in his defense sector. He and his fire team are low on ammo and in danger being overrun. Outlaw Leader is stuck in battle three sectors over and cannot make it in time. Can you assist?"
"That's affirmative commander, I can assist. Contact Skull Eight and have him back me up. Shift Skull Two and his fire team over to cover for Outlaw One. Say status of the reinforcement destroids."
"The reinforcements are being brought up to the flight deck as we speak. They should be on deck in less than thirty seconds, Commander Hunter. Once they arrive, Lieutenant Dixon and his team will be freed up for additional assistance."
"Copy that commander; I'm enroute to assist Outlaw Six. Skull Leader, out."
And with that, Rick advanced his throttles to full power, yanked his control stick over, and began a full speed approach to help the beleaguered members of Outlaw Squadron as they defended their new home with a tenacity that match his own.
Flight Officer Seloy Deparra tossed an errant strand of strawberry-blonde hair out of the way with a quick toss of her head as she stalked towards the mecha bay aboard Lady Azonia's Queadol-Magdomilla flagship. Standing an average-for a Zentraedi female-height of fifty-six Micronian feet tall Deparra was one of the few females ale to stand eye-to-eye with Commander Azonia, though that didn't count for much when her commanding officer was fuming with enough rage to power a Vergnitzs-class flagship for many years. Of course, Seloy would feel the same way if she had been in Commander Azonia's place.
Shifting her gaze to her left, Deparra looked up at the tall Quadrono matching her pace and mentally wondered how her friend and wingman, Flight Officer Kazianna Hesh, dealt with the looks cast her way by their fellow Quadrono Battle Princesses as she strode down the long passageway. While not too many male Zentraedi could stand nearly face to face with Lord Breetai, there were even fewer females who could with the majority being no taller than Commander Azonia.
Kazianna Hesh stood over sixty Micronian feet tall and was only a few units shorter than Commander Breetai himself. Like Breetai and Azonia, Kazianna had an uncanny knack for strategy. However, Hesh also had a tactical genius that was only matched by the brilliant commander of the equally brilliant-and savage-Seventh Mechanized Division of the Botoru Battalion. And in instances like this, Seloy was extremely pleased that Kazianna had been there in Commander Azonia's presence with her as Lord Breetai had given the Quadronos the orders that had lit Azonia's fury like the thrusters of a Queadlunn-Rau at 150% power.
"Kazianna, what do you think of Lord Breetai's new orders? I mean, we Quadronos are a special assault group though our battalion rarely enters battle like this. These types of battles are within the purview of the male Zentraedi like Lord Breetai and Commander Khyron. They were engineered for these type of long, drawn out slugging matches this war has degenerated into.", commented Seloy as she turned left and entered the dressing room where her flightsuit was kept in between sorties.
"True, but Lord Breetai has been at this longer than either of us and Commander Azonia combined. He must have some reason to issue those orders. Even Commander Khyron, as insane as he is, has been fighting these Micronians longer than we Quadrono. For him to not object with the orders as issued and taking into account his acrimony with Lord Breetai and especially Minister Exedore must mean there is something about this enemy that concerns the commander.", commented Kazianna after a moment's hesitation to slip out of her uniform and start donning her flightsuit.
Seloy though for a minute and nodded in acceptance at her friends' words. Now, more than ever, she wished that Flight Officer Parino was back aboard. Miriya always had an unusual ability to figure out what exactly was going on. It was one of the reasons why she, Miriya Parino, was the pride of the Quadrono; undefeated in countless battles until now.
"Parino, please eliminate this Micronian Ace and return with all do haste! This is a confusing time for us and we need your experiences in matters as such.", thought Seloy as she exited the dressing room into the mecha bay and headed for her power armor.
In the crews galley of the SDF-1 rank did not matter; corporals ate the same food and sat in the same area as captains and colonels. Veritech pilots rubbed shoulders with destroid crews and medical personnel. Though some of the more….praetorian and elitist of officers had long lobbied for a separate dining facility for senior officers to no avail (Captain Gloval was very adamant that all of his senior officers were to be treated exactly the same as the newest enlisted crew when it came to dining. And nobody dared risked Gloval's ire on this point). It had become a moot point when a supercilious lieutenant colonel had made an innocuous comment to another officer about a passing doctor and the doctor's boyfriend had leveled the colonel with a viciously quick left-right combo that left the older man on the deck with a broken nose.
Chief Warrant Officer Second Class Vincent Grant winced as he remembered that incident. The lieutenant colonel had pressed for his court-martial for assaulting an officer only to run afoul of Captain Gloval's wrath when his comment had came to light. Of course Vince hadn't gotten off too lightly; he'd spent two nights in the brig for the….errant placement of his fists and had coughed up a respectable portion of his pay to cover the damage of a really nice set of fine china that had...mysteriously been passing through the galley for some odd reason. Sometimes it was best to not wonder how things that had no business in the galley in the first place had suddenly arrived out of midair. .
Standing near the scene of his faux pas, Vince looked over the heads of the few crewmembers eating lunch or enjoying the scenery through the deck to overhead viewports of transparent armor panes at the former seaborne semi-submersible aircraft carrier Prometheus as it recovered squadrons that had been in the recent battle with the enemy.
Usually, Vince would be on one of the maintenance bays of the carrier awaiting the battle-damaged veritechs that had survived the battle; however his department head had granted Vince-one of his hardest working department members-a brief break to grab something to eat. Not one to pass up a free opportunity to see his girlfriend Jean, Vince had accepted the offhand reward in the spirit it was given (even if he actually was supposed to be retrieving some data from the science department that his supervisor didn't actually need at the moment), left the compartment and immediately called the base hospital to see if she was free to grab a bite.
Jean had actually been assisting in a surgery when his call had come through and the nurse on duty had promised to pass his message on to the aspiring doctor. A nerve-wracking twenty minutes later, the personal communication unit Vince had checked out had rang and Jean had said that she had maybe thirty minutes of free time before her duties called her back to the hospital to help deal with the wounded from the battle as they arrived.
Concealing his excitement, Vince had agreed and jumped into a handy jeep parked suspiciously outside the maintenance areas before hauling ass to the science department to retrieve the requested data from Dr. Lang or one of his subordinates (narrowly avoiding one of the scientists' noted soliloquy's on the new technology he was researching to help the beleaguered ship survive this war) and speeding back to base to meet Jean.
Wincing again at the slight weight of the speeding ticket the base police had given him as he blasted down the base streets, Vince again gazed around the room for the soft milk chocolate of Jean's skin. Standing at six feet, seven inches tall, it was easy for the nineteen year old to spot his beloved over the heads of others as she sat at one of the tables by the window and raised a delicate arm to garner his attention. Making a beeline in that direction, Vince grinned to himself as he thought back to the surprise sitting in the drawer of his desk in the quarters he shared with three other Chief Warrant Officers
As one of the tallest men in the force (along with Lieutenant Commander Fokker and Second Lieutenant Dixon) as well as owner of the third fastest pair of fists after Second Lieutenant Sterling and Lieutenant Commander Hunter, not too many would mess with Vince's stuff. Those that did usually ended on their back on the ground after learning a valuable-and painful-lesson and never did such things again.
Arriving at the table and leaning down to press a kiss to Jeans' cheek, Vince placed his tray on the table next to the disk containing the data before sitting down and gazing across the table into the must beautiful pair of feminine eyes he'd ever seen.
"Hello Vince. I only have a few minutes of free time before I have to return to the hospital. Thank you for calling me for lunch, it spared me having to spend it eating the dreadful hospital food in the cafeteria or raiding one of the vending machines in the breakroom.", stated Jean in a soft and sweet alto voice.
"I'm sorry I am late Jean. I was asked to pick up some data from Dr. Lang and his people for my department head Lieutenant Geffen. I'll probably be slammed with repair work when I return and won't be able to see you when you go off shift.", returned Vince with a goofy smile on his face.
Jean nodded before taking a sip of her tea and starting in on her salad. Though he was distracted by the way her delicate throat moved as she swallowed, Vince suppressed a frown at the light repast she had ordered. Scraping some of the sauce from his Salisbury steak, He cut several small strips from his meal and deposited them on Jean's plate. Ignoring her thankful semi-glare and knowing that she did not want to be weighed down; Vince pointed at the meat with his knife and told her that she needed to keep up her energy for what awaited her back at the hospital.
"Its protein, a source for the extra energy you'll need when you report back to work. Don't look at me like that; I cut it into real small pieces for you. I know how you are. Plus I don't want our favorite bridge officer coming down on me like the sledgehammer of God.", Vince said before Jean could voice her slight displeasure at his actions.
Jean chuckled as she remembered what had happened to Vince last time he'd done something similar. His sister, Bridge Officer Lieutenant Claudia Grant, had tossed her baby brother half the length of the restaurant they were eating in. Quite a feat considering that though he outweighed the lieutenant by at least a hundred pounds and had eight inches in height on her, Vince had flown as if he'd weighed less than a pillow. If few people trifled with Vince, absolutely nobody trifled with Claudia Grant! Especially after she'd punched three deck crewmembers of Lieutenant Moira Flynn's catapult department for commenting about the captain's five female bridge officers as 'Gloval's Harem'. Curiously though, the report of the lieutenant's assault on the deck crew had disappeared without being filed into the paperwork void (much to Colonel Maistroff's indignation and frustration).
"Okay, okay, okay I'll relent this time. Next time, Claudia will find out about it and I'll have Big Bruno, the odorly orderly, be the one to patch you up. And I'll have Nurse Francine 'misplace' the anesthetic.", teased Jean as she took a bite of the steak.
Vince held his hands up in mock surrender and gifted Jean with a boyishly innocent look, though it was ruined by the steak sauce slowly trickling down his chin. Sighing to herself as she again remembered why she loved the gentle giant; Jean picked up her napkin and leaned across the table to wipe the offending trickle off before placing her hand on the table. It was soon covered completely by the giant paw of her boyfriend as he took a break from his meal to gaze into her eyes; eyes that twinkled when she was happy, and flashed when she was angry (like his sister's eyes did whenever she was around her fiancée Lieutenant Commander Fokker). Right now, those eyes were twinkling like dark diamonds in the bright sky.
All too soon, the romantic moment passed and the two had to return to work. They separated at the hatch exiting the dining hall with a gentle kiss before going their separate ways.
Seconds later, a green-haired valkyrie with an ice cool temper to match stormed into the room glanced around for the one who had defeated her in combat before storming out again in a whirlwind of green as her hair swirled around her.
Though it wasn't known to the hearty band of defenders aboard the battlefortress at this present moment in time, ninety-five percent of all Queadol-Magdomilla class flagships of the Zentraedi Fleet looked all the same. It was expected since they all had the same general specifications. Yet in the five percent of those that did not look exactly like the rest color-wise, there was a Magdomilla that, though it had the same basic specifications, was not painted in the drab looking green as the rest. This ship, nay, the entire fleet that followed it were painted a dull purple color. To those in the know (which presently did not include the Micronians aboard Zor's ship), the appearance of the purple fleet was akin to the appearance of the four horsemen of the apocalypse if the Zentraedi had such legends. This fleet garnered the same fear (and in some cases moreso than) as the ragtag ships of the rightfully feared Seventh Mechanized Division of the Botoru Battalion and their feared-and respected in some circles-commander.
The arrival of these ships in theater also indicated that either the old one was really interested in the objective at hand or that Supreme Commander Dolza was seriously pissed off! If Dolza was more interested in the objective, it was commonly rumored that the old one would send Lord Breetai and his fleet to 'pacify' any objectors to the Zentraedi's presence
For these ships did not belong to just any old elite unit, these ships belonged to the elitist of the elite.
These were the ships of the Mighty Quadrono Battalion!
Aboard her flagship, the leader of the all-female unit, Commander Azonia Laplamiz was fuming in exasperation. At the present time, Azonia was seething as she sat in her command chair and listened in as Commander Breetai and his adviser, Minister Exedore Formo, debriefed the entire fleet through a video conference at the failure of the Harmesta and Noshiran Assault Groups to again gain control of the lost battlefortress.
It didn't help the turbulent inferno of emotion roiling in her gut that on her screen, Azonia could see the smirking countenance of her rival: Commander Khyron of the 7th Botoru.
As she sat in her chair with her hands clasped into fists where they rested on the arms of her command chair, Azonia wondered why that insufferable man kept up his present mien. Like her troops (except for Flight Officers Deparra and Hesh), the Botoru had been kept out of the battle. She knew that behind his superior look he was seething inside more than she was.
"Why, why, WHY DAMMIT!, Why does that male have to be so smug? It irks me to be humiliated in front of him! Why does the commander act this way? I question his actions, though I daren't speak my concerns out loud in the company of my less competent male peers. Even though his battalion was kept out of the battle as mine was, Khyron seems to be preening. Crap, he must know his attitude irritates me. Yet he continues to do so and in turn, it seems as if he is mocking the Quadrono. Bah, I will never understand the mind of a male Zentraedi. Granted though, Kravshera does have his moments of brilliance. Though I am loathe to admit, Commander Khyron's tactical sense and abilities far outstrip mine. Time and time again, with equipment that is far inferior to those of the Quadrono, the Botoru have snatched victory from defeat. Their battle record equals and in some cases surpasses ours. However, I can chalk that up to the fact that my Quadrono usually are assigned to Lord Dolza's base while the Botoru are assigned to whichever theater of battle where they are most needed. This does not suit me or my Quadrono. Our main claim is that the greatest pilot of all Zentraedi is one of us. And now, Parino is aboard the enemy ship hunting an enemy: the only enemy in our history to defeat our greatest pilot. Gah, this is so aggravating. I wish this debriefing would end.", groused Azonia as she resisted the temptation to tap her fingers in frustration.
"If I did, that man would crow in triumph. Damn him!", muttered Azonia in an undertone.
"Milady, did you say something?", questioned Yaita, Minister Exedore's female counterpart assigned to the Quadrono from her position at Azonia's shoulder.
"No, Yaita. I did not. Remain quiet."
"I will, commander."
After what seemed like an intolerable time, Azonia grunted her satisfaction as the conference ended and she pre-empted any further conversation by cutting her video link with her fellow unit commanders. Crossing her legs and arms in an aggravated manner, Azonia raged about some of the unit commanders in the Imperial Fleet as they openly mocked her ability to command a larger force than just her battalion. Much to her chagrin, Commander Breetai didn't chastise those mockers. Surprisingly, help had come from an unexpected quarter.
In the only time his smirk had gone away, Khyron had challenged the recent arrivals to see if they could do better at command than she did. The whole lot of them had wilted at the venom in Khyron's voice and deigned not comment further on her command abilities. For a moment, Azonia had felt a fleeting gratitude (though she hated to admit that as well) for the fiery commander of the Botoru in his defense of her command.
Of course, Khyron had to ruin it by smirking again and stating that he could have done much better. Curious (and not one to pass up information that would help her impressive ambitions to become the first female Supreme Commander of the Zentraedi), Azonia had filed that tidbit away for future considerations and had vowed to look deeper into the rumors that Khyron had defended Azonia and the Quadronos after a particularly vicious battle against the Invid hordes that had gone drastically wrong with almost sixty-five percent Zentraedi casualties. Azonia's forces had fared quite badly in that confrontation, losing almost half of her effective personnel and four ships of her fleet. In the end, she had heard that there had been calls for her dismissal and execution at the defeat but some timely interference by a quiet voice had saved her life, her command, and her career.
Deciding to go straight to the source and ask him outright, Azonia planned to contact Khyron soon enough.
Of course she was going to make him wait for inquiries for a suitable period of time as was her female right (although she didn't know it. Yet). Three days sounded right to her.
With her course of action decided Azonia smiled an enigmatically evil smile and gracefully rose from her seat. Soon it would be the start of her designated rest cycle and she wanted to get something to eat before retiring to her quarters to gather her thoughts with some much needed sleep. Exiting the command center without a backward glance and barely acknowledging the words of her command crew, Azonia stepped into the passageway and made her way to the dining facility.
Little did Azonia realize things were about to take a crazy turn. For better or for worse had yet to be decided. Because, like they say: 'The best laid plans of Quadrono and Botoru often go awry'!
And with that, I close out the first chapter of my newest Robotech story. I do hope you have enjoyed the start of my newest trip into my most favorite anime of all time!
This plot battlepod came about while I was at work one night (it seems that most of my harebrained fic ideas come that way. I dunno why) when I got to wondering 'what would happen if Breetai felt that after his three spies Rico, Konda, and Bron returned with information, he needed another perspective on things from some of his senior officers? Who should he send? Certainly not Exedore, the diminutive man was needed aboard Breetai's flagship.
Anyways, I want to thank my fellow Robotech fans and Robotech (dot) com members; Picket (a.k.a. Tomcat Lover to those in the know) and Jeanne (though you could probably only find the latter by joining up at the aforementioned site). Before I go on, I do want to point out that I do prefer to use the surnames given to the characters used by Jack McKinney, author of the now considered secondary continuity/canon Robotech novels. If this offends some readers and turns them off from this story as it develops, I apologize in advance, but I will NOT budge on that point. I take both the 85 episode (the so-called 'Primary Continuity') series and the Jack McKinney novels (Main series, Sentinels series, 'Lost Generation series, and 'End of the Circle') as my own personal continuity/canon.
Please read and review if you do so chose to, I won't be insulted it you don't; of course like most fanfic authors, I'd prefer if you did review and tell me how I'm doing in developing this plot. I rather like reviews; it gives me the impetus to continue on writing, I'm just not one to be persnickety about it. As usual flames will be filed under my 'File 13 Protocols' and will be used to bake Khyron and Azonia's wedding cake.
I don't know when the next chapter will be out as I have yet to start on it and this story is basically a 'back burner' story to help me rejuvenate my writing so I can get back to working on my main four stories. So don't get depressed because this story is not being updated as rapidly as I used to update such stories (been in a major imagination funk lately when it comes to my stories.) as I will work on and update this story when I choose to. Right now; working on and updating my other stories take priority over this one, as does my job in the real world.
Thank you again for reading!
Knightewolfe
Knightewolfe's Lair
12/11