Author's Notes:

Okay... I'm not the type of guy who would usually put in an Author's Note before the story begins. Hell, these days I'd rather not put in an Note at all if I can help it. But I feel like I really need to address some things that might become a concern as you read my work. But welcome to 'Songstress, Misplaced', an original Macross story that still heavily borrows many assets from the Macross Frontier anime - or rather the movie (the Sayonara no Tsubasa movie to be exact, since this story's setting is basically four years after the ending). Some of its characters, setting, timeline, and mechanical units. Now, I would say that while I have this weird love/hate relationship with the Macross series, I'm not exactly well-versed on the lore or basically the general storyline of the more recent anime, especially Frontier and Delta. They've been just come and go for the most part on my end.

So as such, it is of my greatest intention to tell you to please mind some of the mistakes that I can and WILL certainly do on my story, like character-breaking personalities, lore-unfriendly assets or just basically all inconsistencies, errors that isn't align with the canon, or literally anything that "shouldn't work like this" because trust me when I say that even I have to pull some parts out of my own arse while writing this down. This story would be best treated as an AU / Alternate Universe setting and to have only little connections with the Macross canon. But I will try to explain whatever I've written within exposition paragraphs within the story. And yes, this story IS OC heavy this story would be focusing on the N.U.N.S. side instead of the S.M.S.'s after all.

I hope that's all I have to say regarding this story. I don't want to spoil much of its contents, to the point that it might ruin your enjoyment even further aside from the errors I've made. I hope you enjoy your stay and what I've written so far.

Traesto.

Frustrated, sad, angry, confused.

Ozma Lee was feeling all of those things and much, much more. The man carefully rubbed his forehead a few times, ending the looping process by pinching the bridge of his nose and his eyes finally broke away from staring silently at the recruitment paper placed neatly on the table, already written and signed by the applicant. His vision then landed upon his adoptive sister, the same sister who happened to be the same young woman who saved the Frontier fleet with her voice four years ago, and sacrificed almost literally everything she held dear in the process. Something that should not happen to her, or just anyone in general. The girl herself was already staring back at him, her bright amber eyes narrowed but at the same time flaring with defiance and determination.

The older Lee suddenly found himself pinching his nose's bridge yet again, letting out a wary sigh at the same time. "Ranka..." He muttered her name loud enough for the green-haired to hear. "...I want to you think about this, very carefully this time," The S.M.S. pilot's voice was dangerously low, and he was trying his best not to show any sign of hostility towards his sister he'd grown to hold dear after all the times they've spent together.

"I did," Was Ranka's simple but definite answer. Even her tone carried a sense of finality within it, indicating whatever choice she'd made - it couldn't be so easily changed. "I've thought about this for months, onii-chan. Months. Even since the project's inception. I want to go; I need to go."

Ozma couldn't help but to produce a laugh, not one of positive intentions but of disbelief instead. "You need to go? But what about the Frontier fleet, what about your singing career, what about us, your friends, Nyan-Nyan, Sheryl... me?"

His question seemed to hit close to home, for the younger of the Lees' hard glare softened up a bit. Living with Ranka for the most of her life, he surely knew which buttons to push. "That's..." She paused, biting her lower lip after finding herself at a lot for words, but her expression steeled once more. "...You need to understand how much of this expedition means to me- no, to all of us," The greenette's voice was hushed and subdued. "I feel like this is kind of a once-in-a-lifetime chance, you know? We finally have the chance to follow their trail and finally make peace with them! I just... want to help in any way I can. Who knows, maybe we'll find Alto-kun in the process too."

"So... it's still about him, huh?" Ozma's eyebrow rose, also visibly cringing. "I should've known you still haven't let it go."

"Wha- no!" The younger Lee defended, strands of her green hair beginning to flare up not in embarrassment but more irritation. "Do you really think my reasons are that shallow?! I've grown, onii-chan. Right now, I'm the only one who has a direct connection with the Vajra, and sooner or later the fleet would need obviously need someone if they're to establish contact with them. This is a diplomatic expedition, it's not like we're going for war."

"Then why a fighter pilot of all things, Ranka?!" Feeling that he was reaching his limit, Ozma roughly grabbed her application request and shoved it forward to her face. "You know well this is a N.U.N.S. operation also, why don't you join the S.M.S. instead?"

"Do I really need to answer that, onii-chan?" She swatted her adoptive brother's hand away, as much as she loved him and understood his reasons to do just that, Ranka also valued her personal space. "Don't even try to hide it, Michael-san has already told me about how this isn't within your jurisdiction. Your contract stated that the S.M.S.'s current priority one mission is to help with the colonization effort and to ensure security within the surrounding space... with your squadron spearheading the whole operation."

The S.M.S. personnel recoiled at her words, his shock was only matched by his sudden desire to sock the marksman's square in the face the next time they meet. Surely enough, his sister had voiced the truth. His private military company, the Special Military Service was not employed to take part within the exploration fleet and instead already accepted a long-term contract to establish a foothold within the Vajra planet's system and its surrounding space. Even with full New United Nations government support the colonization and the rebuilding process from the war has only just recently been completed, and that was still step one to fully claim the entire system. The expedition was purely, and strictly a N.U.N.S. operation, despite it being a peaceful journey purely consisting of volunteers.

"I also want to become a fighter pilot because..." Ranka continued, her voice slowly losing its earlier certainty and momentum. "Because... all my life, I've always been sheltered, protected, rescued. I... I want to be more than just a damsel in distress. I want to help people instead, I want protect everyone, and I want to do more than just... singing or dancing our way through."

"Even if it means taking the lives of others?" Ozma quickly interjected, voice cold and sharp. The man's dominant hand slowly making its way towards his sidearm, strapped on his right thigh. In one motion, he pulled the pistol out and brought it to his sister's view, before placing it down on the table. He didn't want nor have to do that, but it was about time he made his point clear, and that pistol was a great representation to emphasize his statement. "Ranka... you're already twenty, I'm sure you already understand what it means to be... to be a soldier," He grimaced, his mind travelling to parts he would rather not dig up. "It isn't like all the commercials or recruitment videos we've seen. It changes you, it warps you."

The green-haired young woman flinched, her brother was no longer using lies or deception to stop her. He was being dead serious when it comes to his military career, and it honestly showed. Ranka was never a killer in the first place, and would never ever aim to become one. If anything, fighting a war would only trigger all sorts of bad things within her fragile and usually pacifist mind, still haunted by her past for being the sole survivor of the 117th Research Fleet. Ozma knew Ranka would never dare to hurt a single living being, even it said being was a hostile one. She would just always cower, cry, and wait until everything blows over. Her connection with the Vajra only further proved it. She would use her powers as a singer for peace and to understand all lifeforms through her songs.

But she was no longer having any of it. No longer she would want to be Ranka Lee, a failed Miss Macross. "I know... it's because I've already grown that I..." The girl let her words hang, stepping forward to the table to eye the sleek but dangerous firearm for a few seconds, her slightly trembling, slim fingers reaching out to touch the handle of the pistol, and slowly affirming her grip on it once her hand was fully wrapped around the grip. "That I need to break out of my shell," And with that, she picked up the Ozma's sidearm, hanging it up with trained-but-awkward professionalism before aiming its barrel down harmlessly towards the ground. "I've already known the consequences of my choice, onii-chan, and I'm prepared to face them when the time comes."

Ozma's eyes were wide, bulging even, when it all happened, as if they were being sucked out of their sockets. Ranka's face was once again colored with the same determination he always saw whenever she has her mind set on something big. Like when she first stated her intentions to become a singer, when she prepared to face the Vajra and sung her way through enemy formation with the Macross Quarter years ago. This was not her stubbornness or her ego showing on the surface, this was Ranka's decision through and through. He wasn't sure what to feel next, a part of him felt proud how seemingly mature Ranka'd gotten over the years, but at the same time, he felt sick right to his stomach at her choice and newly-found bravado to hold a gun like it's nothing.

He was slowly, but steadily growing desperate, not wanting to lose his sister, not after everything he'd done. "...But you don't have any experience flying an actual fighter, how are they supposed to accept you in their ranks just like-"

"You already know the answer for that one, onii-chan. I'm a certified graduate of Mihoshi, I'm eligible to enroll as a pilot whenever I want," The greenette obviously sensed the older Lee's distressed state, she approached him after putting down the pistol she was holding on the table.

"And-and you still haven't answered my question... but what about Nyan-Nyan or your singing career? Your friends?" Ozma's voice started to crack, and with his ego getting the best of him and the desire of not letting Ranka see his weaker side, the man snapped his gaze to the ground, fists clenching.

Ranka placed a hand on his shoulder, a melancholic look replacing her earlier resolute one. "I've told them about this earlier... and they've actually been really supportive. Even Elmo-san told me he'd vouch for me if the recruiter's giving me a hassle," A small smile appeared on her lips, that one eccentric manager was always eager to help her in any path she would choose.

"And what about Sheryl...?"

The younger Lee's lips suddenly pressed themselves to form a thin line as her mind went to think about the diva in question, who's currently in a coma. The woman hasn't woke up, and still hasn't shown any signs of doing so ever since Alto's disappearance four years ago and the disease inside finally getting the best of the singer. Admittedly, most people have given up on her chance for a full recovery. It has damaged the once great diva of the Macross Galaxy fleet, her brain activity was weakening by the day, and more and more of her internal organs has stopped working without proper and elaborate life-support system, and even then her body was still degrading, and her survival... slipping.

It took a great deal of effort even for the grown Ranka to hold back some tears after reminiscing her friend, rival and mentor's dire and miserable state. "I honestly think... Sheryl-san would instantly take the offer if she's awake right now. Maybe even ask me to come with her. She wouldn't want us to stay still, be passive and reactive about this," She pushed all the painful memories down. Even if she was Ranka's rival for Alto's affection, and even when Sheryl won his feelings and his love, Ranka couldn't just push her away like that. She meant too much for her, and the greenette would do anything in her power to see the diva open her eyes again.

"And what about me?" That seemed to be the breaking point for the S.M.S. pilot, even with his face still pointing at his feet, Ranka could see some clear droplets of water falling from his face.

For that, she has no counter argument. The only thing she could offer to the man was comfort. Slowly and carefully, her arms began to wrap themselves around him, her brother immediately responding to the contact by engulfing the girl in a tight hug, almost crushing. Like he's terrified to let her go. Ranka's composure also finally wavered after being pounded by her own surfacing guilt of leaving him alone. The tears she'd been holding back also surfaced after seeing her adoptive brother to which she's already seen as her own family break down. Her bond with him was too tight to only be considered as unrelated siblings. Even she could not replicate the same amount of love to her late but actual older brother, Brera Sterne.

"I... I want you to understand, onii-chan," She whispered softly, rubbing Ozma's back with her small hands to provide him her sympathy. "I want you to trust me."

The silence that followed afterwards was heavy.

He couldn't remember the last time he was feeling this excited. Not when he first graduated as a New United Nations Spacy pilot, not when he scored his first kill back at the Vajra war, not when he heard the resounding cry of victory of the joint-allied forces when the aliens retreated into unknown space. He was finally cleared of his physical rehabilitation and has gained access to become a part of the new operation as a pilot along with some of his other squadron members. He was finally reinstated into the military. With a quick swipe, he closed the locker before him after he finished changing into a more professional set of military clothing, seeing his reflection on the mirror when the metal door fully closed.

His youthful face carried some suppressed vigor, even with all the new scars he'd earned four years ago and one particularly nasty mark running down his left eyebrow all the way to his cheekbone. His dark chocolate, narrow, and slightly slanted eyes sparkled with hints of enthusiasm despite the neutral expression he would try his best to always maintain while on duty. He would need to remind himself later to cut his hair yet again, though. With quick observation, his black hair while still short, was growing to be a tad bit unruly for military service and even some strands of his bangs started to slightly distract his vision. With his personal observation done, he gave one last sigh of self-assurance before turning to face the door that led him to and from the changing area.

The personnel didn't have to open the door, however, for another individual did it for him. Only slightly surprised, he quickly bent his head down slightly to show a bit of respect to the other person before walking away from the premises.

Only to be stopped when he heard the other person halting him with their hand blocking his torso, effectively holding him within his tracks.

"Damn, Irons, I know you can be a real asshole sometimes, but is this is just cold bro," Lifting his face to meet the other one who'd just spoken, the one being mentioned as Irons saw an eyeful of brown curly hair and slightly jaundiced skin of a taller male sporting a grin on his face. "What, no more love after three years?"

Irons's mouth dropped slightly, before returning the gesture by allowing a small smile to grace his lips, his left grabbing the limb that was holding him and playfully pushing it away. "Warrant Officer Nazir, it's been a while," He nodded in acknowledgement.

"Ow-ow, whoa-hey watch it, RoboMan," Nazir yelped after his arm was shoo'ed away, a bit too forcefully for his liking. "I know you're eager to crack some skulls with that new arm of yours, but that ain't the right way to treat your CO."

Irons's raised his arms in his defense, his left arm was visibly replaced with a prosthetic of steel and iron. "No offense Warrant Officer, but I think it's you who've been missing your PTs."

Before anything could be said further, however, Irons found himself getting engulfed in a platonic hug, a courtesy of the other male. "It's good to have you back, Eleven," Nazir muttered, all in good will. "...Been too long."

The shorter personnel acknowledged the gesture by returning it. "...Yeah, it's good to be back, Two."

"Anyway," Nazir detached himself from Irons. "Welcome aboard, or should I say... welcome back to the Greenwich, Irons. I didn't think you'd be down for this expedition."

"I could say the same to you as well, Warrant Officer," Irons responded plainly, his shoulders shrugging. "How many of the squadron are on board for the voyage anyway?"

The taller man with distinct Middle-Eastern features let his eyes travel elsewhere, thinking about the answer he was about to give. "Well, there's me, Four, Seven, and then there's you."

"Really..." Irons trailed off, face deflating slightly to give off a pensive vibe. "Even Flight Lead's sitting this one out?"

"Actually, you'd be surprised at our current state of manpower," Nazir gestured the shorter man to walk with him down the hallway of the ship. "We're... a bit understaffed, you see."

Irons hummed thoughtfully at the statement, the man did notice that the Uraga-class Carrier they were on was somewhat vacant, shockingly so. Only passing by occasional staff members that he didn't really recognize, and even that was a rarity, he simply concluded that they were newly inducted personnel who volunteered. There were no crew tending to the engines and the life-support system of the ship, leaving the work for the automated systems to do the calculations, and it was about only a few hours before the operation begins. While it was refreshing to see the usually busy ship to be so quiet and tranquil, it was also a bit unnerving considering the scale and importance of the upcoming exploration.

"So what happens now?" Irons piped up once again, deciding to shift the tone of the conversation while they walked. "I suppose you're not here just to greet me on a whim, Warrant Officer."

"Yep, got notified by the LT himself that you're clear and reinstated, says he wants you up to speed and set up with your new unit ASAP - you know, the usual."

Irons blinked twice, a strand of his idiot hair that stood out on the top of his head perking up, one could notice his rather elongated ear twitching, indicating that his attention was piqued. "I'm already assigned to a new machine? Like... this early?"

Nazir's shoulders moved up and down. "It's not that hard to get you in gear when we're this short of crew," He explained simply. "Alright follow me, hangar's this way in case you've forgotten."

The shorter personnel rolled his eyes, he knew that the Warrant Officer was just patronizing him in good humor, but it doesn't mean that he'd to take it just like that, for he knew the ship basically inside out - but in the end, he said nothing but to follow his superior officer to the Carrier's hangar. The hallways were just as empty when he first entered the ship, this time they didn't even encounter a single soul. The only semblance of activity being present was the occasional security cameras turning to identify the men, and after confirming that there was no threat lurking within the ship, the watchful eyes resumed their daily routines to monitor the vacated corridors.

It didn't take long for the two soldiers to reach the hangar bay of the Uraga-class, and once the door slid open, they were greeted with the sight of a slightly busy but still rather empty hangar. Still, the amount of individuals present were actually a major improvement over their earlier quiet walk. Maintenance crews were walking left and right, the noises of contraptions and radio transmission being keyed buzzed all around, and the smell of oil and steel reeked throughout the large room. They quickly noticed several machines being docked and secured in their places, N.U.N.S. Variable Fighters and support units alike scattered neatly and orderly all around the ground.

Irons quickly noticed an unhinged, unmarked - but definitely N.U.N.S.-issued VB-6 Koenig Monster just standing by idly at the leftmost corner of the hangar. His instincts and previous experiences reflexively told him to go down to the Shinnakasu-Grumman manufactured bomber, somehow his legs just autonomously agreed to the idea and the man began his slow march towards the waiting machine, only to be halted once more when the collar of his uniform was pulled back by Nazir. Surprised, he swung his head around his shoulder, eyebrows raised to see the Warrant Officer shaking his head a few times. His superior officer proceeded to jab a thumb to his back, indicating that their intended location was elsewhere.

"Nope, you're not gonna be piloting the Monster this time, Irons," Nazir informed, spinning around to walk the other way. "This way."

Irons felt a wave of confusion washing over his mind. He was quite certain he would be assigned to the almost literal monster of a machine he'd used to fly years back as the pilot. He wouldn't deny that he was longing for the shuttle's capability in brute strength. While the craft lacked mobility, it made up with its potential destructive power through its 320mm railguns. With one of the biggest calibers ever to be fitted into a flying combat vehicle, and then firing one of galaxy's most explosive payload meant a swift farewell to the enemy on its sight. The thing was so intricate to control that it took a minimum of two people, one as a pilot and one as a gunner, although the most optimum choice was to have three crews inside.

"Oh?" Irons questioned numbly, but he found himself at a lost for words and as such, he just let himself being guided by the Middle-Eastern man.

The men walked down the aisle, towards the aisle where the crew could usually store the ship's Variable Fighters. Along the way, Irons would catch the monotone image of the Spacy's standard issue VF-171 Nightmare Pluses being lined up inactive but always ready for use - all of them colored in the newly painted N.U.N.S livery of tan-brown finish with some black patterns and linings on the machine's fuselage. Cheap, but effective when deployed in swarms. He could almost let out an exasperated sigh, the recently reinstated pilot was never a fan of the Fighters, outdated engines and weak pin-point barrier shielding meant while the Valkyrie could be produced en-mass in a rapid pace, it would also mean low survivability rate for its pilots, and boy did it really show during the Vajra war. He never knew why the Spacy wouldn't just switch over to the objectively better VF-25 Messiahs, he settled for a simple answer that General Galaxy just provided a better offering price.

He did spy the recent upgrade for the Nightmare's, though - only recently implemented specifically to combat the Vajras, the VF-171EX Nightmare Plus EX sitting amongst the default formation of Nightmares, if he recalled the Variable Fighter's name. General Galaxy's attempt to make the machine more viable when combating the aliens. The implementation of the EX-Gear meant better response time for the Valkyrie that also allowed for the Slave System to be utilized, a heavy beam cannon to punch through the thickest of Vajra shells, and armored parts as well as improved pin-point barrier generator to improve the ship's durability and general maneuverability. Expensive to produce, but it was effective while it lasted though, it was unfortunate that this much-needed improvement was introduced a bit too late into the war.

Several recon crafts were also spotted by Irons's trained sights, the RVF-171. Basically the same as their uncostumized brethren but with additional sensors and an elaborate ra-dome on the top of its fuselage. Just as cheap, just as frail as the Nightmare Plus, nothing to write home about, really.

Eventually, after more walking in silence to which Irons had grown accustomed to, the men stopped advancing when they arrived before a Variable Fighter.

"Okay, so..." Nazir turned around to face the other soldier, the Warrant Officer's arms lightly swept to the side to add some mock-dramatic effect. "Ta-dah, I guess... here's your new unit," He gave an awkward smile to finish his flat presentation.

Irons's eyes slowly, but steadily grew wider as he studied the machine. It was definitely and obviously a Nightmare Plus - it was even colored in the same tan-colored finish as basically every other ship, but at the same time, it looked significantly different that the other variants of the Nightmares, even the EX variant. For starters, even in its Fighter mode, this one Nightmare was considerably larger than the other machines. If one had to guess, the Valkyrie gained at least an additional 10% increase in size. The main fuselage was wider, the wing span was longer, and the general length of the Nightmare has noticeably inflated, and these changes were the only beginning.

The cockpit was larger. Longer. Enough to seat two pilots within it. The main fuselage was still mostly the same except for the increase in size, but the wings had the most changes. Aside from being expanded, they seemed to be designed to just be locked at a fixed position, this was no thanks to an additional missile pods on the wings' hardpoints and several thrusters on the ends of each wing. The main attraction that drawn Irons's attention the most however, was the presence of twin-linked long beam cannons hoisted on the top of the Variable Fighter's hull. The sheer size of the weapon alone could justify the increase in size and propulsion on the machine's wings.

"Oh..." The black-haired pilot dumbly responded, not knowing what to say further except to just approach the plane and reflexively reaching out his prosthetic to feel the Valkyrie's iron hull. "...What is... what am I seeing here, Warrant Officer?"

"That, Eleven, is General Galaxy's newest venture to try and please the N.U.N.S High Command; The VF-171T Nightmare Plus. That's the official designation for this one, but it goes by many names. Nightmare Plus Tornado Pack, Tornado Nightmare, sometimes just simply your usual Nightmare, you get the gist right?"

Irons's mind recalled the VF-25 Messiahs would sometimes be deployed in a similar equipment like the Nightmare before him back during the war. Heavy Quantum Beam Cannons were installed on them to cut through the Vajra's armor with relative ease, additional weapons and armor as well as a plethora of extra engines to help support the insane recoil for discharging such power.

"This thing is said to be faster, stronger, and all around better than our older Nightmare units. I've heard they've installed an updated power core, the newest pin-point barrier generator for improved protection, all the while keeping the other materials the same as our vanilla Nightmares," Explained Nazir further. "It's supposed to be a cheaper alternative to the EX variant, but without sacrificing much of its performance. Though the lack of the EX-Gear system is a bit of a let down if you ask me."

"So this is basically a... uh, prototype Valkyrie?" Inquired Irons, still busying himself with the aircraft's looks.

Nazir shrugged yet again. "Ehhh... kinda. It's still on its testing phase, but it has already entered production, and words said that High-Command has issued one of these to every active squadron - ours included. They probably saw this expedition as the perfect way to test this thing out."

The shorter pilot frowned when a question popped up in his mind. "...I don't see the reason why the Lieutenant would choose me to pilot this thing, though. Aren't I supposed to be a part squadron's bomber crew?"

"Short on staff, and especially pilots," Nazir cocked his head, nudging to the mostly-empty hangar bay of the ship. "We would have Eight and Five piloted this instead, but you know, they... declined. Didn't want to be a part of this operation."

Irons grumbled quietly, accepting the officer's reasoning, though it was still a strange decision. "I... expect that I won't be piloting this alone, then?" He rubbed the updated Nightmare's body softly. "I mean... there's room for two."

Nazir's lips pressed themselves into a tense, and a bit awkward look. "Yeah... about that, I think LT's should be bringing her in shortly."

No sooner than he said that, and before Irons could ask anymore, the nearest hangar door opened, gaining the two personnel's attention, proven by the both of them swiveling their faces at the newcomer that entered the premises. Or rather, two newcomers. Their eyes subconsciously moved over to the first individual who was guiding the other one behind him. A tall human being of Hispanic-descend, with his hair shaved in a clean buzz cut, a strong gaze that demanded attention and signified authority, and his muscles grown and nurtured to the point that his N.U.N.S. uniform was contouring around his arm. The man also happened to be their flight lead.

But what surprised Irons was the other person behind him. A young woman, with heavy Asiatic features - probably has just entered her early stages of adulthood. A lush and bushy green hair with an idiot hair standing up from the rest that's tied into a small ponytail on her back with a brown ribbon, as well as a pair of slanted, brilliant amber eyes graced her soft, tanned face. The expression she wore was within the mixture of anxiety and concern probably for her own well-being while her eyes also trailed all over the hangar bay, learning all of the features and machines within them. One thing he also noticed was that she's a bit small, maybe even nearing diminutive levels. Irons wasn't a tall man by any means - in fact, he was standing at a below average height compared to the other men and sometimes even women that served with him, but this girl was even shorter. Like any other N.U.N.S. personnel, she was dressed with a white dress-uniform along with a matching skirt that reached her knees.

It didn't take a genius to know the identity of the woman, though - for she has the exact same face of the same girl who saved the Frontier fleet along with the Galaxy's diva.

"Oh... oh no..." Irons muttered quietly, mostly to himself. His composure slowly failing him when the realization slowly hit him, his hair going stiffer by the second. "Please tell me you're joking..."

Nazir internally clicked his tongue. He knew the that the pilot wouldn't take this news pretty well, so in order to avoid any unneeded quips or comments he snapped into a quick but crisp salute to greet their squadron commander. and this prompted Irons to shut his mouth to do the same.

Their Flight Lead raised his right arm at his two subordinates. "At ease, Harpoons," With that, the both of his men dropped their hand from their foreheads and entered a more relaxed albeit still stiff posture. "Alexander, good to have you back aboard the Greenwich," He nodded to acknowledge the presence of his recently reinstated member. "I trust that you've gotten used to your new arm, then?"

Irons nodded back courtly, not letting the woman's presence to distract him, although it did took quite the effort. "Ye... yes, sir. Raring to go, Lieutenant Diaz," He cursed inwardly for letting himself stutter.

Thankfully, the Lieutenant didn't seem to notice this slip up, as his attention has already turned to the aircraft behind the two other men. "I trust that Two has already briefed you on our situation... and your machine?"

"He's up to speed, LT. Though he hasn't familiarized himself with the Nightmare yet," Nazir supplemented the answer for him. "And he's yet to know about his assigned co-pilot..."

Diaz nodded, his hand gesturing for the green-haired woman to step forward, she nearly jumped at the sudden unspoken order - earning her some raised eyebrows from Irons and Nazir. "That's what I'm here for. Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to the newest addition to Harpoon Squadron, she'll be flying as your second for this operation, Eleven - effective immediately," He then indicated to the two males for the girl. "Gunnery Sergeant, these are Warrant Officer Muhammad Nazir and Airman First Class Alexander Irons. Harpoon Two and Eleven respectively. There's also our squadron's other member, Master Sergeant Giovani Linberg flying number Four and also our recon, Technical Sergeant Beatrice Gallagher; Harpoon Seven that should also be taking part in the expedition, but they don't seem to be available at the moment."

"Ah... uh- right," The greenette finally managed to say after taking in all the information from the much taller man. "Gunnery Sergeant Ranka Lee, I'll be under your care during Operation Megaroad! Pleased to be acquainted with you!"

She might've announced that just a bit too loudly for her own good.

Songstress, Misplaced.

A Macross Frontier Work of Fiction