It's February 2059, the 26th long range colonization fleet, led by the Macross Starlight, advances inexorably towards the core of the Milky Way. The population of the Starlight is a mix of human cultures with a large percentage of Zentradi calling the main city home. The ship is of an island configuration, with the outlying islands housing a large full sized Zentradi population.
Ensign Soren MacDonald walked into the Commander's support staff office, wearing his dress whites. The Petty Officer at the desk handed him a couple of forms and had him take a seat next to the commander's office door. A few moments later the petty officer signaled him that he could knock.
He did so, and was told to enter. This was a customary meeting, when new personnel are assigned.
"Sir, Ensign Soren MacDonald reporting for duty," He said after snapping to attention and rendering a smart salute.
His new commander looked up from his paperwork, and did a onceover of the cleanly pressed uniform Soren was wearing, before standing up and returning the salute. "At ease," He said, Soren relaxed a bit, his stance widening and his hands moving to the small of his back, "Have a seat."
Soren sat down, he couldn't help but feel he needed to stay rigid. His commander spoke once more, "Relax, this is an informal meeting," Soren relaxed a bit more, his commander shook his head but continued on, "How was your leave?"
"Leave was fine sir, spent most of it with family. It was a good opportunity to decompress after selection," Soren responded. He didn't really elaborate much, and the commander didn't expect him to.
Soren and the Commander spoke for about a half an hour, before Soren was dismissed. His next stop was to meet with his new team leader.
He was fresh out of selection, and newly assigned to the Special Operations Group, He was to be assigned to Foxtrot Squadron, Team 8. He walked into the team room, where he saw his new team leader.
"Ah, you must be y new rookie," Lieutenant Sanada said as Soren walked through the door, "I'm your new team leader, Lieutenant Toujou Sanada." He motioned to the others in the room, first pointing out the attractive woman sitting in the corner, "That's Lieutenant Junior Grade Elsa Strickland," she smiled and waved, Sanada's hand moved to the other occupant, "And I think you know Lieutenant Junior Grade Stephen Kano."
Soren and Stephen had known each other for a long time, having grown up together. They had both graduated from the same selection class, and they had both served in one of the fighter squadrons, while Soren was still a Warrant Officer.
Soren greeted the other team members, and looked back to Lt. Sanada. Who had begun to speak once more.
"Welcome to Fox Squadron. In case you couldn't tell, I'm in charge of Team 8, Elsa second, and well, if you're worrying about which one of you rookies is in charge, you won't have to much longer," He said with a sly grin. "You know what we do here, right?"
Soren nodded his confirmation. Nominally Foxtrot Squadron was a Fighter Squadron, but the Special Operations Group was responsible for all special reconnaissance, counter terrorism, and unconventional warfare duties in the fleet. They had access to the best equipment the fleet had to offer. If the mission was dangerous or delicate, it belonged to SOG. Team 8 also consisted of their maintenance crew and administrative staff, though each member of Team 8 was a trained and competent operator. Soren would have to wait until tomorrow to meet his crew, as they were busy with a range qualification.
Soren and his new teammates spent most of the afternoon getting to know each other, given the day had no scheduled activities for them. Soren looked around the team room, which consisted of lockers against one wall, a small office for the team leader, and some cubicles for the officers and chiefs along one wall. One wall was full of pictures, and had a bar nestled into the corner, a dart board was hung on one of the walls, and a pool table occupied the middle of the room. Some chairs occupied another corner with a large television backed into the corner. It was essentially a Team hangout, and it wasn't surprising as the barracks were connected to the Squadron building.
Elsewhere, a similar scene was playing out for Warrant Officer Ramia Dosel. She was clad in her service dress uniform, a green and khaki uniform. She was reporting in to her first unit, and she was fresh out of schooling. Unlike Soren, she felt very nervous and uncomfortable, both because she did not care for the attire, and that she did not like being micloned. It made her feel awkward and uncoordinated, doubly so with the shoes this uniform forced her to wear. Still, she knew that military service required it so she resolved to adapt. She was being assigned to one of the Marine Battlesuit platoons, an all Zentradi unit. Zentradi made up a large portion of the UNS Marines aboard the starlight, given that battlesuits can only be operated by Full size zentradi, and that said battlesuits can be quite useful.
She was roused from her reverie when the sergeant indicated that the Company commander was ready to see her. She rapped on the door once and waited to be told to enter. When she heard the muffled word she proceeded into the office.
It was small, not room for much other than the desk, a couple of chairs, and a bookcase. It was by no means as big as her father's office, who was now her regimental commander.
Ramia walked to the Captain's desk, snapped to attention and quickly raised her hand in a salute. "Warrant Officer Ramia Dosel reports as ordered, sir," She said smartly.
The Captain stood up and returned her salute, waved her to a seat, and told her to be at ease.
Ramia took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the Captain's desk. She sat upright, but relaxed as the man began to speak. He introduced himself, and did what most commanders do, told her what he expected of her, asked her a bit about herself, and tried to get to know her as a person.
He was more personable than she'd expected, most of her impressions of commanders were from her training, and from old movies. She'd expected a hard faced man with a chiseled jaw and a scowl, barking his words at her, though she had no doubt he could be that if he'd desired.
"So, I see from your file that you recently graduated from the Starlight Military Academy, with degrees in Mechanical, Chemical, and Nuclear Engineering, and minors in Computer Science and Mathematics. You also received top marks during your physical evaluations and field problems," The captain said, as he reviewed her file.
"Yes sir, I found the curriculum most enjoyable," She responded. The Captain looked up at her, incredulously.
"I also see that you're the daughter of our Regimental Commander, I trust I don't have to worry about you going over my head," He quipped with a smile.
"Of course not, sir," Ramia replied frankly. The Captain noted that while she appeared relaxed, something was bothering her, he decided to pull off the kid gloves.
"Is something wrong, Warrant Officer? That was a joke." He paused and observed Ramia for a moment, she twiddled her thumbs a bit before answering, "Well? Spit it out Warrant Officer."
"It's just…" She trailed off, her commander looked at her impatiently, "Well sir," She began, finally finding her confidence, "I do not like being micloned, it makes me feel… uncomfortable."
The Captain sat back in his chair, this was not the young woman who showed the confidence, competence, initiative, and adaptability that her file indicated, that or she was unable to sublimate her discomfort without external pressures.
After the meeting concluded, she was dismissed to finish settling in, and that's she'd report to her platoon area tomorrow morning. With her new found free time, she decided that she'd take a trip into town…
Soren and Stephen had decided to go into town that evening, to the Kridanik mall. The mall was located in one of the Islands, island 3 to be exact. It was built much the same as most malls on Island ships were built, to accommodate miclones and full sized zentradi. There was a large population of zentradi on the starlight, a full forty percent of the population in fact. As such much of the ship's habitable space had been designed specifically to accommodate the giant stature of the zentradi. Most humans didn't seem to mind, but some did. Every now and then you'd see some racially motivated graffiti, the occasional brawl at a pub, but nothing major. Some people just couldn't let go of the past.
Soren and Stephen walked along the mezzanine looking at shops, but mostly looking at the people. Despite the fact that it was a mall, it was huge, and was almost a city unto itself. Soren never got tired of the view here, the park down below where he could see zentradi and human children playing together, giants and miclones in the same place, it truly inspired him. Stephen shook him from his musing with a jab to the ribs. He nodded in the direction of a zentradi woman walking past them. Her long blue hair was pulled back into a loose braid that draped over her right shoulder, and she had eyes that were a deep purple. Stephen couldn't help himself, letting out a low whistle.
Ramia turned to see who was whistling at her. She was taken aback by the two young men that were standing on the mezzanine. Her face turned rather stern as she approached them. She didn't like being ogled, and she wasn't going to let him forget it.
Stephen turned white as the woman approached them. Soren had turned his attention elsewhere when he saw her turn, but noticed that Stephen had been dumbstruck. Soren knew his friend all too well, no tact, and no discretion. He knew he was going to need to intervene, or Stephen might find himself in a world of hurt…