Robotech: The Ashes of Empire

by GVincent

The Robotech Masters have abandoned their control of empire, their war with The Invid, and the slave Zentraedi forces still fighting it in an attempt to capture Zor's Battle Fortress directly. In this sudden power vacuum, a rogue leader from a caste of Zentraedi whose function is to enforce the will of The Masters on the warrior caste will attempt to seize power and rule herself.

3. Chapter 3: Oasis

Chapter Three

Oasis

"The universe can be likened in some respects to an ecosystem, or a chemical reaction if you prefer. In either analogy the common element that applies is that a small change to a system or to a formula by introduction of a new, random factor or catalyst can have extreme effects."

"Zor would be considered such a random factor or catalyst in the universe."

"The Invid Flower of Life had always been there, but enter into the equation Zor, his research, and the applications for The Flower of Life that he discovered and suddenly the universe is altered."

"Ecosystems thrown out of balance can collapse, chemical reactions can become volatile. Choose your analogy, but this is the legacy of Zor. His intentions aside as they have become completely irrelevant as a matter of cosmic history, Zor was and continues to be a random factor or catalyst."

"By comparison, I am at worst guilty of meddling in events already in play. I will accept however history chooses to label me for that. But in a larger sense, didn't Zor position me to act as I am also?"

-Darius

Destroyer 1017

By design, almost every aspect of a Zentraedi Army- The Zentraedi Empire in fact- was rigidly hierarchal.

While valid arguments could be made about the shortcomings of such a system, it's weaknesses inherent in its cumbersome nature or the multiple points of critical failure that could be exploited by an enemy it did serve two central philosophies of The Robotech Masters that applied to the Zentraedi warrior caste. In its strictly tiered nature, the command structure preserved and conveyed down to the lowest grade of warrior the essence of The Masters' strategic vision in any endeavor. Though at some level, sometimes several, the "vision" had to be translated from the strategic to the tactical framework, there was always a clearly defined chain of custody through which it passed.

In its inherent weaknesses, the hierarchal command structure also served The Masters' philosophy of the leaning and controlling of the Zentraedi forces through calculated attrition. Zentraedi command billets were nothing if not clearly defined in authority and scope of responsibility. Being a thing clearly defined Zentraedi billets (Zentraedi officers in principle) were designed for ease of replacement like the components of the warships they commanded.

Attrition coupled with easy interchangeability did lend itself to great losses at times particularly in the ranks of the commanded- but when the correct "fit" of officer to billet was found then the benefits of the system outweighed its drawbacks- in the minds of The Robotech Masters.

Concerted of an effort as The Masters made to assert control over every aspect of their slave-warriors' lives, no system serves its function perfectly. In a "perfect" scenario, the Zentraedi command structure would have passed through its layers only the operational objectives, requirements, and resulting orders to the Zentraedi needed to achieve the expectations of The Robotech Masters. What could not be engineered out of the command system was the inevitable passing of elements of prefiguration and prejudice from one command level to the one below. Suspicions, fears, reservations- any number of facets of thought inseparable from sentient beings trickled down through the ranks changing form much as Masters' sanctioned information did.

The fact that sometimes even these random variables in the control of the Zentraedi sometimes benefited The Robotech Masters was likely the reason that greater effort had not been made to exorcise it from the system.

The 4234th Destroyer Squadron, like the other units of the 604th and the 417th were enjoying the rare exception to the rule wherein the flaw of The Masters' imposed system worked to their benefit. Word had spread quickly through the 604th that a meeting whose details were undisclosed had taken place between General Alzyha and General Bohen aboard Pritan Cardun. While the particulars of all the subjects covered by the two commands had not filtered down to the lower levels a general relaxation of tensions between the male and female forces had, accompanying the news that was the source of such relief.

The intricate task of the 604th Army's fleet leaving orbit of Tammus 7 finally and reassembling into cruising formation in the company of the 417th had taken some time but had progressed without the complications created by the needless defensive posturing that had preceded the meeting of the commands. As preparations in both armies continued for the complex process of executing a fleet-level space-fold jump maneuver, time had even been found between vessels within their own fleets to make discretionary trips to trade needed supplies or return warriors to their commands.

In this general flow of ship-to-ship air traffic, Commander Pach could have convinced himself that his shuttle flight from Destroyer 741 to Destroyer 1017 had gone unnoticed, but suspicion and a level of paranoia that he found himself uncomfortable to admit to (if only to himself) told him that it had not. More specifically Pach had the disquieting perception that his flight had not gone unnoticed by Commander Sylas who in noticing would be well into wondering what he and Action Commander Gymalt were discussing that could not be communicated by "secure" channel.

For all Pach knew, his trip to Gymalt's command had prompted a similar trip or trips from other commanders aligned with Sylas to his ship. Pach would discover the truth of this suspicion, one way or the other, upon his return to Destroyer 741 as one of his last acts before relinquishing command to Dychi was to task him with the close but inconspicuous monitoring of both shuttle and communications traffic with Sylas's ship.

Two mess cups of y'hoyt and a serving vessel were the sole items occupying the tabletop between Pach and Action Commander Gymalt who were the only occupants of the senior officers' briefing room. The serving vessel was now mostly empty in no small part thanks to Commander Pach who was well into his fourth cup of the offered refreshment as opposed to Gymalt who was only beginning his second. Talk had mostly been of an administrative nature- the details of daily operations exchanged between superior and subordinate- with the exception of the "good news" that Gymalt had not yet passed on to the other commanders of his squadron but that he suspected they knew by now through unofficial channels.

Neither officer had broached the subject they both knew Pach had come to discuss. Action Commander Gymalt made no signs of being overly concerned and had not raised the issue, and as both subordinate and guest aboard Destroyer 1017 it was not Pach's place to open the matter.

"Is it possible that out of hundreds of thousands of Zentraedi officers and ships' commanders that I have sitting with me the only one who finds no relief in the fact that we will be putting in to an automated factory for repair and refit?", Gymalt asked over the rim of his cup as he raised it to drink.

Pach gazed into his own cup and found it less than a quarter full. While considering a response to Gymalt's question he also contemplated the comparably unimportant option of emptying his cup before refilling it, or simply topping it off yet again. He found himself setting the cup down and pushing it away, both of the former options having suddenly lost their appeal to him.

"I welcome the maintenance services.", Pach answered bluntly, "I'm eager for reprovisioning and resupply, and am in need of fresh warriors-."

"-But?", Gymalt asked, inviting Pach to speak freely.

"But-.", Pach replied, "But-. But I think you already know what concerns me."

Gymalt set his cup down on the table with a precise, intentional motion and shuttled it aside as though its presence between he and Pach was an obstacle to conversation.

"Sylas."

"Yes, Lord- Sylas.", Pach affirmed.

A grim expression crept across Gymalt's face for a moment- but vanished just as quickly, "I think that you, Pach, may spend more time thinking about what Sylas is doing than Sylas."

"If it was only Sylas and not Sylas and the others-."

The grim expression returned to Gymalt's face, touched now with a hint of humor, "Your mind is busier than I suspected. –It's no wonder that you look worn."

Pach found himself tapping the base of his cup against the tabletop and in suddenly recognizing the fidget put a quick end to it by pushing his cup away as well.

"Lord, I would think about it less if I had some indication that you were thinking about it more."

"And so you add me to the heap of your concerns as well? You're thinking yourself into exhaustion, Pach."

"Pardon me for learning a lesson you've worked so hard to teach over these many years, Lord-.", Pach said, "-But I was only trying to be prepared."

Gymalt was quiet and thoughtful for a moment before asking, "Prepared for what exactly? Sylas has shown no signs of giving his plot against me- against us- material form. What are you preparing to counter exactly?"

Pach replied before the absurdity of his answer became clear to him, "Everything. –Yes, I suppose I'm trying to plan for everything."

There were undertones of disappointment in Gymalt's words though no scorn as he said, "If it were only a matter of trading blow for blow, I would mark you and Sylas as evenly matched, Pach. Figuring the odds isn't that simple though as the fact is that where you clearly outclass Sylas- where you have always been superior to him- is your resilience and resourcefulness. You are quicker on your feet, Pach- yet you're using it to Sylas's advantage."

"So, you suggest that I do nothing?", Pach asked.

"Of course not.", Gymalt clarified, "I am saying that I have every confidence that you've taken every practical step to be prepared for what Sylas might do. It's time to set it down- be mindful of it, but set it down and return to the duties of running your ship. If you obsess on this, you will grind yourself down and will in fact be less prepared if a threat should come. You've trusted me before, Pach, and I urge you to take my word on this also. Set it down."

Pach nodded, "I understand, Lord- but it is difficult. I can feel that things are in motion-."

"But don't know how to counter them.", Gymalt said, completing the thought accurately, "Perhaps you should consider that springing a trap is not the same as stepping into one. And what else would you do? Shall you in your ship and I in mine go to action stations and preemptively open fire on Sylas and the others? That would be clear justification for Sylas to obliterate us- and if not he and the others, the chances of the rest of the Fleet stopping for a formal inquiry before destroying us is slim. No. Sylas may have the advantage of knowing what he is planning, if anything at all, but we only serve his underlying purpose if we try to actively seize the initiative. It comes down to a single word, Pach- wait."

Pach shook his head but with sincere resignation said obediently, "Yes, Lord."

With that, Gymalt took the serving carafe of y'hoyt and emptied the last of the beverage into Pach's cup. Artificial as it was, he appeared to the action commander to be in need of the energy.

"I was saving this bit of good news for you, Pach- something the others could not know yet."

Making the conscious effort to set aside thoughts of Sylas and his conspirators as he had told Gymalt he would, Pach replied, "What bit would that be, Lord?"

"Our efforts in defending the support groups during battle did not go unnoticed it would seem.", Gymalt told his subordinate as they both paused to drink, "Our squadron is receiving preferred docking and refit order- following priority units naturally. We should make the first cycle putting in, and it is my responsibility to decide within the squadron who gets first service. You can imagine, I have dedicated some thought to this."

Some of the tension that had been knotting Pach's shoulders left and the commander was almost certain he heard his elbows strike the armrests of his chair as his muscles relaxed.

"Thanks be to Fate."

A puzzled look came over Gymalt's face and he asked sternly, "Who said you made the cut?"

Pach's shoulders knotted again, but within a moment he found himself laughing deeply at Gymalt's dry display of humor.

Gymalt joined him in laughing quickly, assuring Pach that his reading of and response was correct and appropriate.

Noticing the time, Gymalt motioned with his cup to the ship's chronometer, "You should think about returning to your ship, Pach. Departure orders cannot be long in coming. And besides, leaving Dychi and Gerrok unsupervised for too long could be detrimental to your executive officer's health."

"I've mentioned that debacle then?", Pach asked realizing that Destroyer 741 would be wanting its commander soon if not already- and likely for the reasons Gymalt intimated.

"I know Gerrok."

Tirol

The last vessels of the 7th Grand Army of the Te'Dak Tohl were now leaving orbit of Tirol. Like predators abandoning the carcass of prey too large to consume entirely to the appetites of scavengers, so left these participants of the successfully executed operation by the servants against the shell of a symbol of The Masters' rule.

Even in the "success" of the operation though there was an air of discontent. Victory without contest was victory without achievement or glory and added nothing to the morale of a force expectant of an epic clash.

As the fleet was rejoined, standing off well beyond the reach of Tirol's gravity, the perceivable mood of the army was anything but satiation with the bounty of "the kill". Destroyers ran aimless picket circuits like agitated hunters pacing for want of prey, bleeding the energy built for combat with the slow release of routine.

The spirit of the 7th Grand Army may have been roused and the intensity demonstrated in the most common practices of standard operation exaggerated, but discipline did prevail in the flawless execution of routine activity. Keeping station in cruising formation, the fleet traveled without destination in concentric rings whose placement and composition spoke of their function and importance in the army.

At the center of the fleet, both figuratively and literally, was Artoc.

Artoc, of the Nupetiet-Vernitz class was of the largest warship type provided for the Zentraedi by The Robotech Masters but was at the same time something of a paradox. Exceeding the next largest class of vessel in the fleet in displacement by over 30%, the Nupetiet-Vernitz class functioned exclusively as the operational command platform for Zentraedi flag officers of prominent position or significant function. Equal in impressiveness to its size was its great complement of battle-ready warriors, mecha, and fighters as well as the vessel's staggering armament and unrivaled firepower. Rare to be seen in solitary army-level fleets as the Nupetiet-Vernitz class was, an opponent encountering this massive vessel that resembled in an appropriately brutal way a battering ram with its blunt bow and thick, linear hull would be correct in accepting their first impression that this was a warship to be feared.

The Nupetiet-Vernitz class- the Artoc being no exception- wielded unsurpassed destructive capabilities bristling with its batteries of energy weapons and missile launchers, and its legions of elite warriors- but at the same time it was a paradox. Artoc like the others in its class had the potential to inflict great devastation on any enemy it might engage in planetary or ship-to-ship operations, but Artoc's function was command and as the most critical asset in a fleet was rigorously guarded and rarely in a position to effectively participate in battle.

In essence, the predator with the largest and sharpest teeth rarely used them.

Sub-General Caldettas, from his position as the 7th Grand Army's executive officer and consequently his seat to the right of Krymina's chair at the head of the table suspected that the quiet undertones of interpersonal tension between the senior officers present was a principle reason that such gatherings were infrequent. This suspicion coincided with Caldettas's knowledge from observation in the periphery that the tensions between many of the officers was a direct result of careful crafting by General Krymina herself.

Gifted and well experienced in all the formal and an equal number of unconventional disciplines related to command of a Zentraedi army, Caldettas was forced concede that Krymina's skills in engineering benefits for herself and for her command from the flaws of her direct subordinates exceeded by far his own. Always having been something of an enigma, what Caldettas could never understand about his superior was her perception of him and his useful function to her. Certainly he was valuable as an administrative functionary- seeing to the details of carrying out Krymina's orders. There was also no doubt that Krymina was more likely to confide in and seek the opinion of her executive officer than any other officer in her command. Still, impenetrable as Krymina was these were not fail-proof indicators of Caldettas's status and indispensability with his commander. To Caldettas's knowledge Krymina had never and was not encouraging competition for the executive officer's billet with any of the other high-ranking officers of the 7th Grand Army- but this condition could easily change. She also had not, again to the best of his knowledge, manufactured a cause for friction between Caldettas and her other lieutenants- though with some no additional assistance was required.

Caldettas suspected that it was the fact that he was comfortable in the position of second in command to the 7th Grand Army that allowed him to escape the political grappling Krymina silently encouraged in the others. She recognized in him satisfaction with being little more than a knowledgeable advisor and an extension of herself.

Or, it was also possible Caldettas conceded that Krymina's mind worked these issues on a higher plain than his own and that he was simply unaware of the future she intended for him.

If this was the case, Sub-General Caldettas invested little energy in worry or even thought on the matter. Fate had a plan for every warrior, and whether Krymina had a plan for Caldettas as well, the sub-general was confident that he would come to find himself exactly where Fate would have him.

Confidence in Fate and General Krymina's apparent contentment with his performance as her executive officer aside, Sub-General Caldettas did not enjoy the high opinion of every officer at the senior officer's briefing table. Sub-General Jekketh, the hulking brute of an officer and Krymina's senior ground commander made a point of always sitting opposite Caldettas if for no other reason than to be able to look him in the eye when boldly countering the executive officer on matters strategic, tactical, or operational as the whim took him- and take him it did frequently in front of Krymina.

Of any of the other sub-generals that made up Krymina's senior staff who might entertain the idea that they would serve her better as executive officer, Caldettas was confident that Jekketh entertained the thought most often. Caldettas was unconcerned though and unconcerned for three reasons equally. Jekketh, craving proximity to Krymina as he did to bask in her approval (a vanity Caldettas had seen Krymina exploit on numerous occasions to benefit her own ends) was no less taken with the stimulations of field command. He could no more be satisfied with watching every battle of every campaign unfold before him on a tactical display than he could be with a transfer to a logistics command.

Secondly- and this factor Caldettas knew tied into the first- Krymina was better served by Jekketh's inexhaustible, almost manic energy in the function he now performed as senior ground commander. This fire was fueled easily and expertly by Krymina when stoking was necessary, and at no risk or expense to her position.

Finally, there was the judgment of character that Caldettas had never actually discussed with Krymina as it pertained to Jekketh, but that he felt they would agree upon. Jekketh's personality was such that the wanting of a higher position was greater than the pleasures that would be had in having it. In Caldettas's place, Jekketh would no longer be able to lay personal claim to achievements in battle and would be deprived of that praise that always caused him to visibly swell. In the vacuum Caldettas suspected (and suspected that Krymina suspected) that his unfulfilled yearnings might turn to ambition- and that ambition would only have one direction in which to look.

Krymina enjoyed having Caldettas as a buffer, but Caldettas was also aware that she ever chose to replace him as her executive officer that Jekketh would likely be the tool. And as it applied to both officers, perhaps this was her intent as well.

Sub-General Jekketh was a brute, but he was far from unintelligent or imperceptive. These attributes and the unanticipated presence of Tirolians at the senior officer's briefing table explained the shift in Jekketh's contemptuous focus away from Caldettas- for now at least.

It was a rare occurrence in the extreme for aliens of any kind- even Tirolians- to interact with the command nexus of a Zentraedi army, and a Te'Dak Tohl army particularly. Caldettas had never seen a Tirolian in the flesh before, nor had any of the other officers at the table for that matter. Their appearance was not that dissimilar from that of a Zentraedi, save the elements of physical size and attire- but Caldettas had known to expect this. The physical appearance of Robotech Masters and consequently of Tirolians was by no means a secret.

What Caldettas had not been prepared for and what he could not account for given the pitiful stature and obvious frail health of the two creatures before him was the air of equality with and perhaps a hint of superiority over the Te'Dak Tohl officers present that the Tirolians exuded. To be precise, it was the shorter, plumper Tirolian who projected a sense of self-importance greater than what such a small vessel should hope to contain. Strutting about the head of the table he showed no hesitation in meeting and matching the glares cast at him. The other, the taller personification of age and fragility made no more impression and had little more presence than a shadow- but the plumper one….

As the two aliens spoke guardedly with one another in low voices on the tabletop, Caldettas found himself nurturing the hope that their importance would be found to be minimal and that they could be disposed of. The wisdom of intentionally segregating the Zentraedi from the Tirolian population was taking on a greater clarity though.

Sub-Generals accustomed to commanding thousands with the impunity of agents of a deity rose to rigid attention with the rustle of uniforms and stiffening limbs as General Krymina entered the briefing room and took her seat without comment or ceremony.

If the attention of all the Zentraedi officers, nearly sixty in total between Krymina's command staff and her senior lieutenants, was on the general she inversely seemed to hardly notice them. Instead her gaze fell down upon the Tirolians atop the briefing table. To facilitate the ability of all to hear though, Krymina reached over both Tirolians to the electronics panel built into the table and activated the microphone that normally served the ship's intercom system but was presently tied into the briefing room's closed circuit internal speakers.

"You may begin.", Krymina said to the Tirolians, but specifically to the one whose displays of personality in his short time before the Te'Dak Tohl officers had already garnered distaste from Caldettas.

Caldettas watched as the plump Tirolian made his way across the tabletop to where he could stand and speak comfortably into the microphone. Oddly, to the executive officer's way of thinking, the plump one's gaunt companion did not join him- but rather seemed to shrink away from the brazen one with a hint of disapproval about him. It was a curious sight to the sub-general who after only a moment could tell by the frail alien's body language that he was comfortable neither at his companion's side nor any closer to Krymina, the nearest Zentraedi. It was a condition, standing alone, that almost evoked sympathy in Caldettas- almost.

"I am Darius-."

The briefing room's speakers gave additional power to the aged alien's surprisingly strong speaking voice, lending it a touch more authority than Caldettas was immediately comfortable with given his initial and solidifying impression of the creature before him.

"I am a member of the Tirolian Council of the Elders and senior advocate representing the genetic sciences. I hold certification of mastery in both genetics and bio-mechanical engineering from the Tirolian Academy of Sciences and have spent the majority of my life serving The Robotech Masters in these disciplines. My last duties in the service of The Masters was in the area of genetic design and manufacture of clone bodies for the upper castes. These responsibilities included a role in the consciousness transfer process that migrated Masters into their new bodies."

"It is essential that you know these details of my past so you can more easily accept the information General Krymina has brought me here to impart concisely on you."

Caldettas could feel the Tirolian choosing his next words carefully and was shocked, perhaps as visibly as the others around him whose faces he could see through his peripheral vision, as Darius delivered them.

"The Robotech Masters have elected to reward the service of the warrior caste of Zentraedi for fighting their war with the Invid, and the Te'Dak Tohl caste's efforts to keep the warrior caste subjugated by abandoning you in favor of self-preservation. This desertion will likely lead to a collapse and eventual extinction of the warrior caste within the next five to six decades perhaps- but certainly the extinction of the Te'Dak Tohl within five to ten years."

Darius paused to allow his words to sink in with his incredulous and borderline hostile audience, and was told that they were by the rise of a general murmur between the officers with the conclusion of his initial statement of facts. General Krymina tolerated the exchange for a few moments before bringing it to an end with a simple motion of her hand that also prompted Darius to continue.

"For you to understand why The Robotech Masters have chosen this drastic course of action I must first refute some common knowledge that you hold as truths. As I explain the circumstances of these lies that have been carefully crafted and told to you, you will understand why The Masters chose to do this. I do not yet have complete answers to all of the questions the truth will raise, but I can tell you enough for you to better understand your position."

"First- the central lie, the one whose truth necessitates all the subsequent lies told to you by The Robotech Masters, and why they have decided to terminate your run as a manufactured commodity. It was told to you that Zor, before his death, collected all of his research materials and related developing technologies concerning Robotechnology, placed them aboard his secretly constructed space fortress, and dispatched it to an unknown destination in the universe. It was told to you that all speculation as to the whereabouts of the battle fortress were simply that- speculation- and unfounded in fact. This was a lie.."

"The truth is that immediately following Zor's launching of the battle fortress, The Robotech Masters entrusted the task of its recovery to Supreme General Breetai of the warrior caste. This mission was classified and compartmentalized even within the highest levels of the Zentraedi command, those not needing to know the true nature of Breetai's sudden departure from the Invid war were told that he was being sent to establish a new front."

"It followed that the Te'Dak Tohl, as enforcers over the warrior caste, were told that Supreme General Breetai, his grand army, and a measurable portion of the Imperial Fleet under the command of and to include Supreme Commander Dolza were destroyed in action with the Invid. You were also told that this information was being withheld from the remaining ranks of the warrior caste to offset damage to morale and possible panic. These too are lies."

"The truth is far more disturbing as it challenges the control of The Robotech Masters over the warrior caste. The truth is that Breetai was able to locate Zor's battle fortress, but for reasons that are unclear did not achieve its capture. Instead, he allied himself with the aliens into whose hands it had fallen and for that reason Supreme Commander Dolza was ordered by The Robotech Masters directly to destroy Breetai and the alien race. The result of the action was the losses to The Imperial Fleet and of Dolza with Breetai and the aliens prevailing."

"The Robotech Masters did not dare allow the truth to be revealed to the remaining Zentraedi of the warrior caste, lest stubborn loyalties to Supreme General Breetai create a schism in the remaining forces still engaged with the Invid. The Te'Dak Tohl were not employed to put down Breetai's limited insurrection for obvious reasons- that Te'Dak Tohl might recognize the greater importance of Zor's battle fortress and not return it to the hands of The Masters."

"The truth is that The Robotech Masters are dying, and they are aware that they are dying. Generations of cloning, for as advanced as our sciences on Tirol are, have led to an inevitable deterioration in the genetic quality of the clones produced for The Masters. They recognized that they could not afford even the possibility that even their trusted Te'Dak Tohl might turn on them at their moment of greatest need, and were therefore compelled to assemble all that remained of their own army to capture Zor's ship themselves. This was some five years ago, and accounts for the minimal resistance you experienced in your capture of Tiresia and the state of Tirol overall. The Tirolian people have been abandoned as you have been."

"Now, with General Krymina's permission, I will attempt to answer what questions you may have."

The monumental volume of questions on the minds of the officers at the briefing table precluded the immediate ability to ask any of them. For Caldettas's part, the details and the scope of The Robotech Masters' deception upon he and his kind was still churning about his brain. He was not displeased with himself that he did not voice the first question, but Caldettas found himself mildly irritated that it was Jekketh who did.

"For an individual who claims to lack the complete facts, you know a great deal, Tirolian-.", Jekketh said, applying an excessive attempt to intimidate with his tone of voice that Caldettas recognized as uniquely Jekketh, "And you came upon this limited knowledge, how?"

Darius, to his credit in Caldettas's mind, was unfazed by the giant officer who leaned across the table at him and towered above the comparatively tiny alien. He may have come across as insolent and overly self-important, but Caldettas ceded reluctantly that this Tirolian did possess courage.

"Perhaps I used too many large words in the middle, Zentraedi, so I will repeat myself. I was tasked as part of my last duties to The Masters with the process of consciousness transfer. In that process, in ways that I haven't the time to explain to you, it was possible to extract and interpret elements of the subjects' thoughts and memories."

Jekketh was clearly irritated, bordering on the fringes of incensed, that his efforts to assert himself over a creature a fraction of his size so easily rolled off the Tirolian- and furthermore that Darius had so effortlessly come away superior. Caldettas could have enjoyed this spectacle all day, except for the fact that he had questions too and feared that the Tirolian did not understand fully the peril he was putting himself in by besting Jekketh in the verbal duel. Only Krymina's presence and the fact that the Tirolians were there by her wishes had saved the Tirolian bantering with Jekketh- of this, Caldettas was sure.

"So you know the location of Zor's battle fortress?", Jekketh asked, the boil of anger sounding clearly in his booming voice.

"I assume it is still in the possession of Breetai and the aliens.", Darius said simply and unapologetically, "But specifically, no- I do not."

"Then you know at least the planet of origin of these aliens, so we might begin a search there should General Krymina choose?"

"No, I do not.", Darius answered, staring up at the sub-general with no more concern than if he had been watching passing clouds.

Jekketh's right hand balled into a fist and raised dramatically over the Tirolian who did not flinch.

"So, in fact you've reached the end of your usefulness and we'd lose nothing by me killing you where you stand?"

Darius said calmly from within the shadow of the threatening fist, "I have not indeed reached the end of my usefulness, and you demonstrate a great deal of foolish bravery when you consider that I could kill you in the act of dying, or simply by choosing to do nothing at all. All of you."

Jekketh's fist seemed to strain against the air, or rather was the focal point of the internal struggle within the sub-general between the compulsion to strike and the better judgment of hesitation. Caldettas's opinion and liking of the Tirolian, Darius, had not increased significantly and on a base level he too would have enjoyed watching a single blow from Jekketh crush the life out of him. Still, there was some enjoyment found by the executive officer in the fact that Darius showed no signs of cowering before Jekketh's actionable threats. Perhaps there was a grain of admiration for that insolent bravery too, even if only a grain.

Less impulsive than his counterpart though and recognizing something in Darius's words that gave substance to his threats, Caldettas found himself preparing to intervene on the diminutive alien's behalf to preserve his life- if only temporarily. There was no need though, as Krymina's own hand moved between Darius and a crushing death, and with the slightest grazing of the back of her hand to Jekketh's fist commanded its lowering.

"You were built flawed.", Darius explained. As the Tirolian continued, Caldettas was reassured that his impression had been correct mostly through the fact that the alien had not even broken a sweat, blinked, or broken eye contact with the immense sub-general. If he was gambling at deception, it was a well practiced one and he showed great proficiency.

"The Robotech Masters are many things, but careless in matters of their own security is not one of them.", Darius prefaced, "The warrior caste of Zentraedi, the norghil as you choose to call them, were created to be the iron fist of conquest. You, the Te'Dak Tohl were designed and manufactured as the surgical instrument used to keep the fist strong and pure in purpose. In that design however was put the mechanism for maintaining control of you and for offsetting the possibility of exactly what you are attempting now. Genetically you are identical in every respect to the norghil you hold yourselves so superior to, except for one -. I will not bore unacquainted minds with a long lesson in the biomechanics of neurology, but every Te'Dak Tohl Zentraedi has been engineered and manufactured with the inability to produce the myelin protein required to sustain nerve function. Your food supply provides the protein to you, whereas it simply is passed through the system of the norghil without adverse effect. Without it, you experience The Withering, and you die. All that is required for The Robotech Masters to put a swift end to you, is to instruct the automated factories on which you depend for resupply to no longer provide these protein fatty acids. And I can assure you, that if they have not done this already, your blanket termination will be initiated soon."

"Unless-.", Darius stipulated with a pause specifically intended for emphasis, "I, and my colleague, Philisto, were to manufacture the required supplement for you."

"-Out of your gracious generosity, no doubt.", Jekketh snorted abrasively.

True to form so far, Darius returned in full broadside, "Not at all, Zentraedi- I don't take you to be a fool. I have no more love for you than you for me- but the next strongest emotion binds us. We both hate The Masters. You for your reasons, and me for mine. If you believe I am trying to deceive you about anything I have said up to this point, about my ability to deliver on what I have offered you, or my intention to see the fire of The Robotech Masters go out forever in the universe- then you should kill me now."

Darius's arms raised as though to embrace the fate he was taunting. Offered for a moment to Jekketh first, the scientist then made a slow turn to extend the invitation to every officer with whom he could make eye contact. When violent death did not take him, Darius lowered his arms and turned to face Krymina directly.

General Krymina was unimpressed by the display, or at the very least made no show of it.

"There are still many gaps that must be filled to make your offers actionable, Tirolian.", she said as a matter of fact, "We haven't facilities aboard our vessels to manufacture anything, let alone complex medical supplies. If we did, and were in a position to move immediately against The Robotech Masters, your information gives us no tangible location to seek either they or the alien race in possession of Zor's Battle Fortress that you speak of."

"But-.", Darius countered, "-The required facilities are available to you, and can provide all of these things through me."

General Krymina carried on the conversation with Darius as though she and he were the only two present, venturing the only guess that made any sense.

"You mean an automated factory."

Darius nodded approvingly the way an instructor might acknowledge the correct answer of a student to a complex and irregular academic question. The display, not overtly patronizing- but making no attempt to not come across in that way either- was nonetheless not lost on Krymina who bore the indignity without reaction. The Tirolian's tendency to annoy was tolerable given the benefits he seemed increasingly capable of providing. Jabs and insults would be catalogued and accounts would be settled at a later date.

"Yes indeed, General.", Darius affirmed, "A Robotech Automated Factory will provide me with facilities to more than adequately synthesize the myelin supplement in the quantity you require, and will also provide us with detailed intelligence on the whereabouts of Breetai. He being found, we will also find Zor's Battle Fortress, and you will hopefully find yourself in a tactically advantageous position to meet The Masters when they arrive."

"You are making the assumption that they have not already reached this alien world.", Jekketh pointed out, showing the level of comfort he felt in speaking on tactical matters in which he was well-versed by the ease of his comments, "You said yourself that The Masters abandoned Tirol five years ago- they could very well be in possession of the battle fortress already. They may have even destroyed it if their attempt to reclaim it did not promise a favorable outcome. That would not be unheard of from The Robotech Masters."

"I agree completely.", Darius conceded, "It is entirely possible that The Masters have reclaimed the battle fortress- it is even possible that they elected to destroy it, though given its value in furthering their existence and expanding their control in the universe I find that somewhat less likely. In either case, we will not know until we locate a factory and until I can access those Network-linked databases reserved for only The Masters."

"Which you can do also through information obtained through your involvement in the consciousness transference duties you performed?", Krymina surmised.

"Correct again, General.", Darius said, "Granted, this will be my first attempt to access those compartmentalized systems, but there is every reason to suspect I can do so successfully."

Jekketh directed his next comment to Krymina, marginalizing with clear satisfaction if only for a moment Darius in the discussion.

"If the Tirolian should fail, we should still be able to use The Network to locate Breetai and his alien allies. We do have that capacity."

Darius reasserted himself, happily countering his adversary's statement, "I would not rely heavily on any information that you can access through normal channels concerning Breetai or the location of The Robotech Masters, General Krymina. For reasons that I have already explained, I would forward the educated opinion that your sources of information have been intentionally corrupted. The Robotech Masters were in a greatly weakened condition when they departed, both physically and materially. They could not afford a confrontation with either you or norghil forces on anything but their own terms, and for that reason I believe they would take every advantage available to them. I am also hoping that this weakened condition and the probability that they would have to confront Breetai- a resourceful and formidable foe- has prompted them to first seek an automated factory themselves. There, they could mass forces and rebuild their own strength before undertaking the recovery of the battle fortress. –Of course, this is pure speculation. Until I can access the databases, I have no way of knowing."

General Krymina meshed her fingers in a display of thought on the table before her- thought and something else that Caldettas perceived in its brief flicker, but that he was sure no one else saw. She was silent for several moments, commanding silence from the other officers at the table as well.

Finally though, in a tone that spoke of well-thought calculation, she said-.

"Then we've reached the limits of what we can accomplish here. Caldettas-."

"Yes, Liege?", Caldettas replied faithfully.

"Locate the nearest automated factory and make fleet preparations for a hyperspace-fold. We will first see to normalizing our genetic condition as Darius has prescribed and then further pursue the other matters raised here."

"Yes, Liege.", Caldettas complied, "Preparations will begin immediately."

Krymina looked as though she was about to dismiss the company of the other officers when she added unexpectedly, "Caldettas-. A modification to my instructions-. Locate an automated factory that is removed from the major operational areas any Zentraedi forces- norghil or Te'Dak Tohl- are likely to be engaged in. I would prefer precluding the possibility of interference or interaction with other forces while we get a clear idea of the next logical step."

"Understood, General.", Caldettas said.

"Then you are all dismissed to return to your commands and posts."

As the officers filed out of the briefing room a guard entered through a gap in the stream carrying a small case that had been modified into a crude transport for the two Tirolian scientists who had found themselves ridiculously out of scale with their new home aboard Artoc. Krymina was inwardly certain that Darius at least found great satisfaction in being shuttled from place to place by Zentraedi-borne transport, but there was no escaping this. Old and sickly as the two scientists were, Krymina favored bearing the thought of Daruis's false sense of subjugating one of her kind to the possibility that either Tirolian might succumb to their frailties in the simple act of walking from one point of the massive flagship to another.

As the box was placed on the tabletop for the two Tirolians to board, Krymina asked with something near to hospitable interest, "Will you require anything else in the way of accommodations?"

Having seen and spent a short time in a modified equipment case whose compartments roughly equated small rooms and that would serve as he and Philisto's home for the foreseeable future, Darius replied, "Thank you for your concern, General- we're making do. Understandably, your facilities are not geared toward our use, but we're making do. I could bed down on a wooden plank and consider myself living in luxury so long as we're working toward the same goal."

"And your companion?", Krymina asked. Speaking to Philisto directly had proven to be a largely unreciprocated investment of energy- the only exchange she and the gaunt scientist having had been a simple exchange of salutations upon their arrival on her flagship.

Darius glanced scornfully at the scarecrow, shell of a man whose company and confidence alone he was likely to share the rest of his days.

"Him? He was miserable at home in Tiresia, and he's miserable now. You've succeeded in creating a smooth, lateral transition for him. We'll concern ourselves with material comforts later. Work will preoccupy us until then."

"We'll speak again later.", Krymina said, and in lieu of concluding the conversation with false pleasantries motioned to the guard to convey her "guests" to their quarters.

Caldettas remained as he had remained during the exit of the other officers and throughout the exchange between his superior and the Tirolians- seated silently in his place. Krymina waited until after the briefing room door had slid shut sealing her and her executive officer off from curious ears before she swiveled her chair to face Caldettas's.

"Your thoughts?"

"Do you mean, can they be trusted?", Caldettas clarified.

"Of course not.", Krymina said sounding mildly annoyed, "We both know they can't be trusted. Not to any great extent anyway, and certainly not without constant supervision. No, I mean overall- this state of affairs."

Caldettas was thoughtful, but quick to reply, "It tastes of elements of truth. I would put nothing he said past The Robotech Masters- not if they felt their hold on power and their very survival were at stake. It's plausible."

"Tastes of truth-.", Krymina repeated, not mockingly but appearing to grasp in the words some deeper truth, "Tastes strongly enough of truth to hide a hint of poison I suspect. If I were not certain that Darius's hatred of The Robotech Masters far outweighed his contempt for us, he and his companion would have left this ship through an airlock already. I have faith that he wants to see an end to The Masters- but little else."

"Your opinion is the governing one, Liege.", Caldettas said unnecessarily, "Every partnership, the most amicable and the most acrimonious alike, has a useful longevity before its end. The question is how long do we preserve the partnership?"

Krymina's hands folded in thought in her lap, "Conflict with The Robotech Masters was inevitable, Caldettas. We went to Tirol primed for it. The Robotech Masters as hostages and figureheads to order our will was a spoil too enticing to not reach for-. To think though that we could remove them from the equation altogether and command with our own voice-. That is a prize worth struggle."

"Then it sounds as though you've chosen the path- in principle at least.", Caldettas said.

"In principle.", Krymina agreed, "The particulars- the duration of that course will depend greatly on how treacherous we find our Tirolian malcontents to be."

Caldettas was quick to suggest, "At the least we should allow them to provide and to prove the supplement for The Withering. After that, it may be a question of to what degree do we want their help? At some point it is reasonable to assume that we will become familiar enough with Zor's research to be able to implement it into viable application without their assistance."

"Possibly.", Krymina agreed, "Assuming we can capture Zor's Battle Fortress intact. That is another assumption."

Caldettas was hesitant in what had to be said next remembering the reaction he'd caught glimpse of when Darius had skirted the topic, but said it regardless.

"Breetai will be a formidable opponent as the Tirolian said, Liege. I do not share his optimism in there being a great chance of The Robotech Masters having the strength or experience to outfight a force under Breetai's command- not without Te'Dak Tohl. The best we could hope if The Masters do reach or have reached the alien world first is that the battle is sufficient to cripple or weaken Breetai-."

"Breetai is norghil.", Krymina said dismissively. What Caldettas had feared had come to pass- the flicker he'd seen in Krymina was back, only prominently now. It was contempt. Not the same breed of barely-contained, single-minded, insatiably hateful contempt that burned from behind Darius's eyes with The Robotech Masters as its object. No, this was the contempt of a warrior capable of epic deeds but relegated to anonymous obscurity and forever in the shadow of an inferior without the means of achieving that state of preeminence.

Caldettas had not been present in The Forum to hear Krymina warn Darius truthfully that he did not know her vanities- but Caldettas knew them well. Existing in the shadows, and in particular in the shadow of the norghil was a state of being that afforded Krymina no relief. All warriors had their flaw, Krymina being no exception, and despite her masterful governance of it and of herself, pride was hers.

"I do not fear norghil.", Krymina continued after a moment, perhaps having felt the flare of pride that Caldettas had seen her grapple with from time to time, "If anything I fear the outcome of a confrontation between Breetai and The Masters, and only because neither would allow the other to have final control of the battle fortress. There is also the random element of the Invid. They too might be attracted to such a struggle. The truth, Caldettas, is that our greatest opponent is time. We are late entering the fray and every passing moment sees us losing more ground to time. Norghil, Masters, or Invid- we can fight any to victory-. The question is what will we gain in that victory? The who of the conflict is immaterial- they are simply a mechanism at work. It is time that threatens to steal our prize, and once stolen there's no retrieving it."

Destroyer 741

Commander Pach and Sub-Commander Dychi stood with quiet interest near to the navigation plotting station as the ship's navigator and Gerrok extracted numbers and figures from the initial hyperspace fold plot to plug into calculations more familiar to the chief engineer. Irregular as the two senior officers' presence was on the command deck itself, the normal processes of running the ship continued about them smoothly as Pach would have expected. The presence of the senior and executive officer was clearly generating mild curiosity among the posted crew, but Pach's own curiosity concerning his vessel's ability to make the journey dictated by General Alzyha's command and just passed down to individual units took precedence over any minor disturbance that he might cause among his subordinates.

Faster-than-light travel, or more accurately space-folding, was something of a misnomer because at no time was the ship moving faster than the speed of light- or in truth moving at all. Simple in concept as taking two distant points in the galaxy and warping the space between them to essentially "step" or "jump" from one point to the other- the execution was far more complex. Factors that applied to conventional propulsion and navigation such as distance were joined by those of equal or greater importance and of greater ambiguity such as the gravitational influence of stars, black holes, and known fields of black matter that created patches of varying gravitational density in what was commonly considered and sloppily referred to as the "void" of space. These factors more than any other determined whether a ship could jump directly from point to point, or require multiple jumps like crossing a stream over a path of stepping stones.

The ship's navigator would determine the safest path, whereas Gerrok would assess the ship's ability to travel it. Normally conference of the two officers was not required, but in Destroyer 741's diminished performance condition a balance and compromise would have to be reached between the two. The question that remained was whether circumstances allowed the two the latitude to reach a compromise.

This was what Pach and Dychi waited anxiously but stoically to hear.

"We should make it."

It seemed to Dychi that after waiting so long for an answer from the engineer that the answer should have somehow been more profound. It was relieving, no doubt, and as Dychi was learning about Gerrok in matters of engineering and ship's capabilities, "should" always translated into "definitely". Still, not that he required it, the executive officer felt a little more explanation accompanying Gerrok's verdict would have been comforting.

Possibly there had been something in Pach's expression that had said the same thing to Gerrok because he added briefly, "The distance is just under a kiloparsec, and there's little incidental mass between us and the rallying point with the factory. The ship can handle that, and even battle stress on the other side if it should come to that."

Pach raised a hand simply in warning, "Don't challenge Fate to produce the unlikely, Gerrok- it just may."

Gerrok snorted indignantly, "The real change would be for things to go our way and well for once."

"I thought it just had.", Dychi said with no particular point but to fish for a reaction.

"-When we're moored in a refit slip-.", Gerrok replied guardedly, "Then I'll breathe easier."

Pach pored over the station displays before him that were cluttered with numbers that meant little to him beyond recognizing their significance. Though outwardly his expression had not changed remarkably, he too was of the optimistic sentiment of his executive officer- though he also retained the jaded realism of the engineer.

"One episode of peril at a time, please.", Pach said, smothering what had the promise of being another impressive verbal melee between Gerrok and Dychi, "Navigator, refine your fold design and confirm with The Chief its within our capabilities. Let's leave nothing to chance that we can manage. We'll take what Fate has planned for us as it comes."

Despite their massive dimensions and potential to afford a relaxed use of interior space, Zentraedi warships had been designed with rigorous attention given to the most efficient and economical use of space as a priority. As it applied to these mass-produced vessels, "efficient" and "economical" addressed battle effectiveness and issues of overall endurance. The initial equation in each class of vessel that balanced space requirements and weight associated with armament, propulsion, and power supply having been solved- the remaining space in the ship was divided according to the ship's function.

Landing ships, the great freighters of warrior cargo and their machines devoted great space to mecha hangars and to the stores required to support both the fighting machines and their pilots. Re-Entry Transports, critical in ferrying units from the fleet to any ground operation devoured space in their own cavernous hangars, but this usage was an accepted necessity.

Supply and support ships, similar in configuration to their landing ship counterparts dedicated the largest share of their internal space to the secure stowage of all material required to make a Zentraedi army function to include great bays of stasis tube clusters containing slumbering warriors who would replace battle losses in much the same way that the mecha stored in compartments and on decks all around replaced their kind. Every compartment, every unit of measurable volume in each class of vessel was accounted for in purpose and employed accordingly.

Whether it was the lumbering hulk of a support ship, the fortress-like juggernaut of a powerful command vessel, or the agile, multifunctional form of a Thuverl Salan Lot 500- Heavy like Destroyer 741, the warships of any Zentraedi fleet shared another trait. Without failing, the space afforded to the officers, crew, and warriors aboard for comfortable living was among the last design considerations.

Barracks clusters were wedged and squeezed into areas not otherwise occupied by ship's systems and machinery, weapons magazines, or general storage. The most planning involved in these living spaces that were little more than rows of bunks and storage lockers standing floor to ceiling four high may have been the assignment of units to their particular berthing areas depending on function. Gnerl and mecha pilots were barracked in spaces most proximal to the hangars housing their machines, whereas crew tasked with ship-handling duties were berthed close to their duty station.

It was possible for warriors to go their entire lives (short spans as they sometimes were) without entering a part of the ship not related to their duties, and to not interact with warriors of varying billets. Every barracks cluster had its own nutrient dispensary and mess, as well as a fitness maintenance facility to serve the needs of the barracks-dwellers. This functional segregation may or may not have been intended by The Masters' design, but the unspoken message that the Zentraedi was a secondary concern to the efficient operation of his vessel was clear.

Still, if the ship's layout was a reflection on The Masters' will to deter strong bonds outside of a warrior's unit or functional area, then the attempt was as flawed as the creatures attempting it. Zentraedi vessels provided few distractions for those calling them home during the sometimes long periods between brutal contacts with the Invid. Exercise for the sheer purpose of maintaining physical fitness could only hold a warrior's attention for so long, and even the most realistic of training scenarios lost their beneficial edge with repetition to become monotony in another form.

Try as they did to exorcise it from the lives of the Zentraedi, The Robotech Masters for their proficiency in genetic engineering could not engineer out of their creations the simple need for social interaction if only on a rudimentary level.

Hedra had never acknowledged the need for social interaction on a cognitive level. Had he considered it (which he had not) then the linguistic framework that fit his existence as a warrior so well would have proven insufficient to articulate his social needs as an individual- or perhaps the concepts would have been so foreign to the warriors around him as to have him shunned for the reason of some perceived defect.

Speaking intelligently on the social needs of Zentraedi nature was a moot point as Hedra was a warrior- and by self-definition, warriors did.

Exercising for the sheer purpose of maintaining physical fitness could only hold a warrior's attention for so long- but if there was an additional incentive; fitness took on an entirely new purpose. Hedra had found that purpose, for himself at least.

Chok Nant Eht- "The Warrior's Regiment"- was a full-body exercise that worked both specific muscles of the body as well as entire muscle groups with movements intended to mimic Chet'ahl- "warrior weapon", or the Zentraedi discipline of hand-to-hand combat. In cultures where "art" was defined in notion, Chet'ahl would have been classified as a martial art instructing the use of spear, kruvok, blunt weapon, and every part of the warrior's body as a weapon to its greatest lethal potential. Basic knowledge of Chet'ahl was implanted into furnished skill sets of every Zentraedi warrior, though practice and sparring brought proficiency and refinement of variations.

Chok Nant Eht mimicked Chet'ahl, but was primarily a strength and flexibility building regiment. Lacking the space to provide for enough exercise machines to strengthen the various muscle groups of the body and to adequately service an acceptable percentage of a ship's crew and warrior complement, fitness maintenance facilities achieved the strength-building portion of Chok Nant Eht using rigor platforms. A belt, pad-like shoulder braces, and wrist and ankle cuffs provided a warrior with isometric resistance within the platform's field at any of thirty levels.

Hedra was not the strongest warrior in his barracks cluster, not by any means. He had never managed to complete a cycle of the Chok Nant Eht at a resistance level above 26. Even now, the new acquisition to his squad, Ulstik, was proving himself in possession of greater brute strength by exercising at level 25 with apparent ease on the platform one row up and three position over from Hedra.

What Hedra was consistently capable of, and it being a feat that few warriors on the ship could match, was being able to complete two cycles of the lengthy regiment at level 23. Strength was admirable, as was endurance. Both combined were rare qualities that garnered favorable notoriety.

Of course, Ulstik was demonstrating that he had the potential to eclipse Hedra in this area- but Hedra knew Ulstik to be a novice warrior and still somewhat wet from the tube, if not naturally dull. Fate could see it that Ulstik's accomplishments in the Chok Nant Eht might soon come to an end and be quickly forgotten.

"Lieutenant Hedra-.", a familiar voice said from to the right of Hedra's exercise platform as he forged strongly into the midpoint of his second cycle, "We all know that questioning Fate's designs is pointless- but some designs strain faith more than others."

Hedra glanced over between exercise motions that mimicked jabbing and sweeping punches in slow motion to find Chaum studying him with equal parts mild interest and disbelief. The other warrior, a seasoned veteran of at least as many battles as Hedra and who appeared to be held together by an outer casing of scar tissue, had been a peer in rank as sub-lieutenant until Hedra's unexpected succession to platoon leader.

"That's right, Sub-Lieutenant.", Hedra said, intentionally exaggerating an aura of superiority about him, "The lesser ranks don't always see the wisdom in Fate's choices- but that's why it selects officers like me to guide you."

Great belly laughs rumbled up through Chaum's trunk, rippling the accumulation of scars on his neck and about his crooked mouth as they escaped.

"How do both you and your ego fit into your mecha?"

Hedra transitioned in his exercise regiment from punches into elbow strikes, continuing the conversation as he did so, "I'll have a Glaug Combat Pod now- I will have more room."

"Not nearly enough, I think.", Chaum countered, "-But, you did make Koso your prime sub-lieutenant-. The strain of making a good decision didn't hurt too much, did it?"

"It's a pain you'll never have to endure, Sub-Lieutenant.", Hedra replied, gladly taking the opportunity to grind his promotion into Chaum once again, "Koso is a capable warrior- very dedicated. I will need him to reconstitute the platoon."

"Reconstitute?", Chaum repeated as though his brain was unwilling to accept the word his ears had heard, "I had heard that you and Koso were the platoon right now."

Hedra replied unaffected, "No, we have three warriors to speak of- including that beast-."

Chaum followed the direction of Hedra's gaze to fix his eyes on Ulstik whose immense form was barely contained by his exercise platform. Chaum raised his right hand that lacked the two smallest fingers to his chin in a thoughtful gesture as he studied the unblemished novice with a veteran's eyes.

"Big, indeed-. Can he fight?"

"As well as any warrior soggy from the tube.", Hedra replied, "He's so big though- I actually saw Invid plasma bolts think better of it and go around him."

Chaum grunted, "You've been drinking hydraulic fluid, haven't you?"

"Not lately.", Hedra said, "That one was one that Koso drew from the pen on Tammus 7-. I expect that when he has the inventory of an entire automated factory to draw from, his selections should be no less impressive."

"If you haven't used up all your favors with Fate, Lieutenant."

Having been purposeful in striking up conversation, Chaum found he was at as good a point of transition as he could hope for and continued accordingly.

"You could provide your subordinates with some officer's insight-."

"On which of my many topics of expertise?", Hedra asked. He had suspected something more in Chaum's appearance during his exercise routine than the sub-lieutenant's need to fire off a few salvos in his new superior's direction. Hedra did not suspect malice or deceit, but he would have been shocked had Chaum not been seeking more than idle conversation.

"General information.", Chaum said.

"Commander Pach is good about passing that on when he deems it appropriate. What makes you think I know something you don't?"

Chaum replied with the ease of familiarity, "Because you enjoy talking, you hunger for rumor and intrigue, and warriors of a kind cluster."

"So we do.", admitted Hedra, "And what rumors are we whispering between us?"

"Word around the nutrient dispenser has it that we'll be putting in at a Robotech Factory.", Chaum said.

"I have heard that.", Hedra concurred. The lieutenant realized as he replied that he had intimated that an automated factory was in their future during the exchange on Koso. Not that secrecy had been any kind of an issue, but Hedra to his chagrin realized that "compartmentalization" was a skill he might have to brush up on.

"And on that factory, we will likely encounter the females?"

Hedra shrugged as much as the shoulder braces of his exercise platform would allow. He was into the bending and twisting routine that worked the abdominal and back muscle groups now, and knew conversation was going to be difficult for the duration.

"As we appear to have joined ranks with the females, I suppose that's a reasonable assumption.", Hedra surmised, "You're not afraid of them, are you Chaum?"

Chaum scoffed at the question, sounding just a little indignant, "Of course not-. I just thought I should know so I could prepare my warriors- those who have never seen or interacted with females before."

"Excellent thinking.", Hedra said approvingly, "Precisely what makes you a good sub-lieutenant. I should have Koso do the same."

"Ah-.", Chaum replied with a glint in his eye, "Handing off responsibilities to your sub-lieutenant- that's what makes you a good officer."

Hedra found himself laughing, having walked squarely into Chaum's sights to become the target of a joke.

"-Speaking of whom.", Chaum said, changing the direction of the conversation again, "Your sub-lieutenant has been sparring hard this morning. You'd better go and rein him in a little before he drops dead, or kills someone-."

Koso's elbow connected explosively with Wildoc's jaw to the sound of breaking teeth, fragments of which spewed from the warrior's mouth in a frothy mix of saliva and blue-green blood.

Sparring in the martial art of Chet'ahl did not promise permanent injury to the combatants- precautions such as hands bound in fabric to dull blows and the wearing of boots strictly prohibited were observed for safety- but sparring did make warriors prone to it. Pain is a strict training master, as it was commonly muttered around sparring rings by observers and by participants alike was not a statement devoid of truth. Injuries, though not often severe, were common as could be expected in the practice of a combat form such as Chet'ahl.

Derived originally without the knowledge of the Zentraedi warriors who now practiced it from a fusion of two forms of Tirolian martial arts, the basic doctrine and forms of the fighting style had been refined and passed along down the generations of warriors to become the method of hand-to-hand combat now in play in one of Destroyer 741's sparring rings. Powerful blows to the head and body, joint immobilization and shattering, manipulation of an opponent's physical strength and movement, and throws intended to render an adversary defenseless for the kill were the basis for the regimented and improvised moves of Chet'ahl. Strength and power did not a superior fighter make, but when blows were landed it often helped to determine the length of a fight.

Koso had stood in defense of the ring he had dominated for five sparring bouts with the understanding that he suffered from a significant size disadvantage to Wildoc who had entered for the pride of his barracks and his platoon. Not the largest warrior aboard, Wildoc was nonetheless noticeably larger than Koso at a glance, and for his size was rumored to be both remarkably fast and agile- the other determining factors in Chet'ahl mastery.

It was not Wildoc's first blow, a thunderous jab to Koso's face whose impact he felt race through his spine, down his left leg, and transfer through his foot into the sparring mat that made Koso consider the possibility that the ring might soon be Wildoc's to defend. It wasn't the rapid series of a dozen or more blows that followed to his center body before he could get his leaden arms up in his own defense either. It was when Wildoc snatched and rotated Koso's right arm and shoulder into an outstretched and locked position before savaging his ribcage with his knee that Koso knew his streak of dominance might be coming to a close.

Between the slickness of blood and sweat of both warriors and jarring of Koso's body from each blow of Wildoc's knee, Koso found himself able to free himself from Wildoc's arresting grip at just the time he was certain that at least one rib had been cracked. Fired by pain, Koso's slight edge in speed over the larger Wildoc allowed him to retreat to the very edge of the ring's boundaries just out of the reach of Wildoc who pursued him with single-minded viciousness.

Koso had had no plan for taking the offensive, his governing thoughts being to not come under a second barrage of fists and knees. The possibility of being driven out of the ring's bounds, an occurrence that garnered immediate defeat in a sparring match, did not even occur to Koso until his heel was at the line.

Then it had come and at a moment when Koso was able to recognize it and exploit it. Wildoc, perhaps trying to drive him out of the ring and not actually land a jab to Koso's head went too high and overextended himself. Koso felt a reflexive surge of the muscles in his legs that propelled him forward, and under Wildoc's left arm. A combination left and right jab just below the sternum sent the air out of Wildoc's lungs like the blast of a decompressing airlock, and Koso's left knee to the same region doubled him over to bring his head within striking range of Koso's unpadded elbow.

Wildoc could afford missing teeth.

Nutrient paste from the ship's dispensers was soft, and missing teeth could in time when the memory of witnessing parties had faded be explained with falsified pride as injuries received in some desperate battle with the enemy.

Wildoc would decide later how he wanted to deal with his loss of teeth no doubt- creative explanation or admission. As his unconscious form was dragged by the heels out of the ring, it was not of immediate concern to him or to Koso who felt some pangs of guilt for the extreme discomfort his opponent would wake to. This was of course through the throbbing waves of aching pain from his right ribs.

Heavy and unresponsive as his arms had become, Koso managed to raise his fists before his face once again in a display of challenge.

"Who's next?"

"Not you!"

The voice from behind was accompanied by the grasp of strong hands at Koso's shoulders that pulled him swiftly off balance and out of the ring to the jeers of onlookers who had been engrossed by Koso's stunning performance to that point. Koso flailed and fought for a moment before recognizing that it had been Hedra who had achieved for him disqualification through leaving the bounds of the ring.

"Hedra!- What are you doing?!", Koso sputtered as his arms took several swipes at the air and his legs fought to get beneath him again.

Hedra, already having Koso off balance, tossed him easily though not maliciously to the deck. The simple jolt had the desired effect and Koso was securely out of "fight mode".

"I'm trying to save the pleasure of killing you for some slimy Invid somewhere.", Hedra replied calmly, "Save a little fight for battle, will you?"

Slow to his feet again from the pain emanating from his cracked ribs, Koso did manage to stand again before replying, "I have plenty of fight left for the Invid, Hedra, I'm fine-."

Hedra laughed, not even attempting to mask his disagreement, "You have plenty of fight in you, but you're not fine, and what's more is that you know it."

Another sparring match had already begun in the ring that Koso had just been the dominant occupant of, and little attention was paid as the recently victorious warrior tenderly collected undershirt and duty tunic from a heap on the floor nearby on the way to the fitness facility's lavatory. Hedra, in no less need of the wash facility, followed more to further the conversation with Koso than for matters of hygiene.

The lavatory, besides doorless toilet stalls whose short partitions were good for little more than preventing occupants from bumping elbows, sinks, and several drinking scuttlebutts had half a dozen cleansing stations to serve the needs of warriors. Composed of three archways per station, the cleansing units had streamlined the showering process into an efficient, assembly-line service designed to move individuals through quickly.

"You're not fine-.", Hedra continued as he, like Koso, stripped himself of his clothing and joined the line for the nearest cleansing station, "You've seen what's happening to you happen to other warriors- you just won't admit it."

"And what's happening, from your position of great wisdom, Hedra?", Koso asked dryly without even bothering to glance back at his new platoon commander.

"You're holding onto the battle.", Hedra said, unperturbed at having to speak into his subordinate's back. Rank or no rank, this was still Koso, and so long as no warriors in his command were watching, Hedra could take minor insubordination without his ego bruising.

"Am I now?", Koso asked, stepping under the first archway as the line moved quickly through. Jets of warm water and a cleaning solution strong enough to sting if left on the skin too long or burn on getting into an open wound or the eyes sprayed the warrior down from multiple angles. Sweat, blood, oils and loose dirt were washed away with a turn in the streams.

"Yes, or did you have some grudge I didn't know about against Wildoc?", Hadra replied as he succeeded Koso under the first arch, Koso having moved to the rinse arch that like its detergent counterpart reclaimed its fluids through vacuum drainage slits for filtration and re-use.

"Sparring carries the risk of injury.", Koso pointed out, dismissing Wildoc's unnecessary loss of teeth, "I'm going to need ribs mended."

The third arch under which Koso stood blasted him with warm air while bathing his skin in a brief but intense UV exposure. Warriors knew instinctively to close their eyes during this final process in which any residual bacteria on their skin was killed. The intense burst otherwise had little more significant side-effects than the UV levels intentionally emitted by the ship's interior illumination fixtures.

"Hey-.", Hedra said seizing Koso firmly by the shoulder and turning him as he emerged from the cleansing station, "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Koso. It starts with a warrior holding onto the battles he's fought and they start to work at him from inside. Then, because he can't fight a memory, he decides he's going to fight everyone around him. After a while, his unit gets fed up with him and one day on the battlefield he looks around to find he's all alone- or worse. Is that what you want?"

Koso shrugged off Hedra's hand and retrieved his uniform to put it on, "I can watch myself on the battlefield as well as you, Hedra."

Hedra dressed as rapidly as Koso so his subordinate could not slip the conversation as easily, "But you're my first sub-lieutenant now- your own hide isn't your only concern now."

"So it gets back to a matter of what best serves you?"

"What best serves the unit.", Hedra corrected, "Or was my first command decision as a lieutenant in making you my sub-lieutenant a mistake? Tell me, Koso, because you can perform those duties well- but I can't see you through them like you're fresh from the tube-."

Koso became aware that other eyes were watching and that other ears were listening. Whether Hedra was conscious of these things, he could not be sure, but Hedra was demonstrating great leniency in enforcing discipline between the ranks. Despite his urge to remain combative, Koso tucked his anger away for a more appropriate occasion for its release.

"I will perform my duties, Lieutenant."

Hedra shook his friend by the shoulder, this time in a display of approval and laughed, "Good! I need you to help me continue to look good. Point Lieutenant Hedra has an admirable, solid sound to it, doesn't it?"

Koso's ribs began to throb more insistently making a trip to the infirmary that much more desirable before his next scheduled watch.

"What do you mean help?- I'm the only reason you look good."

Hedra laughed again, "Let's get you to the med-techs, I think someone knocked something loose in your head."

Contrary to what an outsider looking in on the Zentraedi martial-social structure might have been led to believe at a glance, there was actually a great measure equality in lives and benefits of the officer and warrior classes.

On all but the two largest classes of command vessels that routinely carried the flag of the army it led did any Zentraedi but the senior officer enjoy a private berthing accommodation. Senior staff, command personnel, crew and warriors alike were berthed in multi-bunk barracks whose number of inhabitants was determined by factors of rank and position. The bunk an executive officer slept in was no more spacious or comfortable than that provided for a new warrior- only the number of other individuals with whom he had to share a space was different.

Similarly, the ga'rhat nutrient paste from the dispensers in the senior officer's mess was no better than that eaten by the crew and warrior complement, nor did the y'hoyt beverages come in additional flavors or with more of the stimulants that encouraged its consumption in great quantities. No special considerations were made for the aesthetics of presentation, or stewards provided to the officers for service. Officers dined as did the warrior grades in a manner that was designed to deliver nutrients to the organic component of The Robotech Masters' war machine in the most efficient way.

Sanctioned distractions for officers such as the ship's fitness maintenance facilities were provided in segregation from the warrior ranks, but were otherwise the same. Mecha and fighter simulators served all alike, but were of little practical use to senior officers and staff.

There was indeed great equality aboard Zentraedi vessels, Destroyer 741 being no different- except that the daily stresses on officers were greater. Tension and fatigue built in warriors most during battle when survival was the driving issue. There were also stresses of combat inactivity, but constant drilling and training helped to keep the edge off of that for those whose role it was to close with and engage the enemy.

In many ways, the stresses of the officers were never relieved- only took different forms. Preparing a command for battle. Maintaining a command's battle readiness even in long periods of inactivity. Commanding a unit effectively in battle, and then reconstituting a command to begin the cycle of stresses again.

As an added measure of equality also, officers were required if informally to provide their own preferred distractions when Masters' sanctioned and provided ones failed to ease the strain.

Commander Pach had his preferred distraction that had served him well for some time. Like all officers and warriors in his command, Pach practiced the Chok Nant Eht regularly and had even known to be seen maintaining proficiency in Chet'ahl, but when his substantial duties allowed and the option presented itself he preferred to spend his time in contemplation of a stone fragment that barely filled the palm of his hand.

Reclined on his bunk with the stone fragment balanced on his chest as he had so many times before, Pach could lose himself for hours in the pondering of it. The "stone" itself was not remarkable- no different really than one a warrior might step on in the charge on a battlefield. This stone however had been the clear object of detailed and dedicated tooling by an alien of adequate intelligence and sophistication to do such a thing.

Roughly rectangular in shape with chipped and damaged edges, the carved face of the stone was undamaged- almost pristine in its incomprehensible depictions. Creatures whose squat, six-legged, tentacle-limbed forms reached for a symbol of interlocking rings at the center of the relief image over rows and columns of neatly spaced glyphs perplexed the commander to no end.

The species depicted, if the creatures were a representation of the species at all- Pach did not know. The meaning and message of the glyphs, if it was indeed writing and not ornamentation were indecipherable. Pach only knew now about the object what he'd come to assume within minutes of Gymalt giving it to him many years before- that it had importance to someone at some point. It had been a thing of significance, warranting the working of details into the stone so fine as to be barely visible to the Zentraedi eye.

That meaning was lost now, and as the artifact had come into and had been passed through Zentraedi hands was likely lost forever.

This did not prevent Pach from engaging in the frivolous mental exercise of speculation though. He suspected that the artifact had once been a part of something larger- partial images about the edges supported this. On occasion Pach had found it maddening to think that had he just been allowed to see the artifact in its place within a greater whole that its purpose and meaning would become clear. This was not going to happen though and in the moments of reason that followed, he realized that the understanding of the object would ruin its true value to him- a source of thoughts that had nothing to do with tactics, logistics, command, Invid, or The Robotech Masters.

The mystery solved, the artifact would no longer be an avenue for escape.

The door buzzer growled its low, grating tone jarring Pach from his sanctuary of thought and depositing him again squarely into the responsibilities of Duty.

The commander tucked the stone under the far top corner of his bunk's cushion mat, its normal place of safe-keeping. The concealment of the artifact was not so much an act to guard it from the discovery of others, but an act more to preserve something that was Pach's and Pach's alone.

"Enter."

The door to the commanding officer's quarters slid open, the posted guard having stood aside to allow Sub-Commander Dychi admittance. Pach raised himself to lean against the wall at the head of the bunk as he greeted his executive officer with an informal nod.

Dychi, apparently having been lost in thought, started at the possibility that his intrusion had interrupted an infrequent moment of the commander's down time.

"Pardon me, Lord- if I'm disturbing you-."

Pach shook his head, swinging his legs out over the edge of his bunk to sit upright, "No, I should be on the command deck with the fold coming up. You have something that requires my attention?"

Dychi cleared his throat, returning to the business of running the ship, "Yes, Lord- several details to report. First, the navigator and Sub-Commander Gerrok have refined and completed their final space-fold calculations and foresee no difficulty in making the jump with the rest of the Fleet."

"Fate favors us today.", Pach commented. The fact that Gerrok had not shown up at his door in an agitated (more so than usual) state had told the commanding officer some time ago that the fold was within the ship's ability after the final details had been figured into the calculations. Still, there was a comfort of solidity in receiving word "officially".

"Action Commander Gymalt's command has also contacted us with mooring order for putting in at the automated factory-.", Dychi continued, unaware that a conversation on the matter had already been had aboard Destroyer 1017, "We will have priority within the squadron following Action Commander Gymalt's ship- should refitting berths be scant."

"Twice in a day, Dychi- we must have done something right by Fate."

"And finally, the last salvaging party has returned from the surface of Tammus 7.", Dychi said with a note of optimism, "The recovered material is in the process of being inventoried and stowed, but in speaking to the supervising point lieutenant I believe we fared well."

"I'm sure the field was thick with potential for salvage.", Pach said grimly.

"Salvaging" operations and parties were always in Pach's mind more appropriately described as scavenging operations following a battle when time and area conditions allowed. Even the most horrific episodes of combat left a practical wealth of commodities for the warrior frugal enough to recognize the potential in the carnage and wise enough to seize it.

Unlike operation of mecha and equipment, or the applicable knowledge of individual and unit combat tactics, the practice of salvaging usable equipment and equipment components from the battlefield was not a knowledge set provided by The Robotech Masters. Who amongst the Zentraedi had first had the idea to return to the site of a battle after its conclusion to recover whatever might be required to support the ongoing operation of the greater unit was unknown. Perhaps many had come upon the idea at the same time.

Whatever the origin of the practice, it having been established it only seemed appropriate to those engaged in it, and not in stark conflict with the presumed wishes of The Robotech Masters. This was to say that while the practice was not provided to the Zentraedi like instinct, no clear effort had been made to deter it.

Almost to the contrary, there were hints that the practice of salvaging was facilitated and even rewarded by The Robotech Masters for warriors resourceful enough to participate in it. The mecha provided for the Zentraedi by The Masters for instance- in its technical complexity, all were still composed of modular parts that even the dimmest warrior could be taught to replace if damaged. Like the practice of salvaging, this knowledge had not been provided but acquired and passed down over time and the generations. Warriors who excelled in the skills of repair, even without formal provision of the knowledge by implant, had been known to restore mecha and other field equipment that at a glance would be deemed inoperable to a working state with only salvaged parts and the minimal tools provided to the Zentraedi.

Often these skills were a matter of survival when a unit was separated from the limitless resupply of an automated factory, but it was also a matter of pride. Returning a Regult damaged beyond the ability to move under its own power to a state of renewed combat effectiveness was almost as much an indicator of a small unit or warrior's worthiness as the ability to meet the enemy head-on and prevail.

Still, pride in endeavors outside of the realm of combat was not so clearly endorsed by The Robotech Masters- pride being a luxury they saved the greater share of for themselves. For this reason, the practice of salvaging and proliferation of the knowledge of what was done with the salvaged was carried out quietly and without official sanction or recognition in the high levels of command.

Dychi, per his normal, obedient nature had not uttered a syllable in questioning Pach's order to send out salvaging parties when it had become clear that time would allow the discretionary operation before the Fleet folded. As Alzyha's army was to rendezvous with an automated factory, the practice could have been argued to be pointless as the great, space-going supply depot would provide among other things a complete restocking of the ship's mecha and fighter complement with new machines. This was a standard practice whenever a warship put in, but experience made the wise commander wary.

Resources abandoned were resources squandered, and squander could exact a heavy toll if Fate chose to disrupt the execution of "standard practice".

"Any noteworthy communications activity from or involving Sylas's command?", Pach asked, getting to his feet in preparation to relocate to the command bubble that was down a corridor and around a corner no more than thirty long strides away.

"No, Lord.", Dychi replied, stipulating, "Barring undetected use of laser lamp there has still been no monitored communications outside of the routine- and no air traffic of any kind between Destroyer 818 and any of the other commands of the squadron."

"I see.", Pach said clearly disquieted at the lack of any suspicious activity, "Then perhaps Fate has seen to work in our favor again and Sylas has abandoned any plots as you suggested, Dychi. It is possible that I've read the situation incorrectly."

It was Dychi's turn to look disquieted now. Officers in the process of training-up were seldom disturbed by anything so much as discovering their superior/mentors to be as prone to flaw as any other warrior.

"Or perhaps not-.", Dychi asserted, "I will admit that I spent some time trying to think of how I would develop and execute a plot if I were Sylas-."

"You, Dychi?-.", Pach asked, genuinely shocked, "I never took you for such a- scoundrel."

Dychi defended himself, "No, Lord- I'm not so inclined. Commander Sylas is quite intelligent I've seen from the brief interactions I've had with him. We would have to assume that he would suspect he was being monitored. If I were in his place, I would wait until the method of communication lent itself to discretion- face-to-face for instance, aboard the automated factory or aboard a conspirator's vessel in port when the comings and goings of personnel is more likely to go unnoticed."

Pach folded his arms thoughtfully over his chest, nodding his agreement with his executive officer's reasoning, "That follows. I am going to have to watch you, Dychi- you're quite treacherous when you put your mind to it."

"No need, Lord- I haven't any treacherous intent for you.", Dychi replied, "Gerrok on the other hand-."

"We need types like The Chief too, Dychi.", Pach reminded his subordinate suspecting his statement was roughly half an attempt at humor.

"Of course, Lord.", Dychi said in submission to authority, "Though in matters of the ship's security, Lord, I would suggest heightened measures be put into place while we're undergoing refit and taking on provisions and supplies."

"Such as?", Pach asked. The commander had already given the matter a great deal of thought but was curious to hear Dychi's suggestions. Also, there was an immeasurable benefit to allowing a developing officer feel his contributions to command details were valuable.

"Strict monitoring of personnel disembarking and boarding the ship both in number and identification through all access points, Lord. This will reduce the chances of Sylas being able to influence ship's operations, or worse-."

"Indeed.", Pach agreed, "You have been thinking about this. Anything else?"

"Yes, Lord.", Dychi continued, "We should post sentries both in the factory's material distribution storage areas that will be providing supplies and munitions to the ship, and along the automated conveyer systems' access points. Attempts at sabotage could occur there, though I think attempting to secure the automatic supply system any higher is pointless- a saboteur could as likely damage his own vessel as ours by trying to plant a bomb in provisions or munitions at a level higher than the area nodes."

Pach nodded his approval, "I concur. Consult Ritzal on unit level officers to supervise and report on this, and assist in picking the warriors for the detail yourself. I would like the plan and its details in place by the time we put in."

"Yes, Lord.", Dychi obeyed.

"And now-.", Pach said, ushering Dychi toward the door of his modest quarters, "-For the small matter of getting there."

"Sub-Commander Ritzal hates us-.", speculated Warrior 2nd Grade Rauk as he lifted from the hip junction a Regult leg with Ulstik who carried from the heavier end of the limb joined to the large mechanical foot. "-That's the reason we get every detail involving carcasses."

Ulstik, probably capable of carrying the entire disembodied mechanical limb without assistance in Sub-Lieutenant Koso's estimation, bore his burden without comment to Rauk's remark.

Koso could feel the weight of Hedra's expectation that he would counter Rauk's shot at morale as the new lieutenant supervised the work from nearby.

"Sub-Commander Ritzal doesn't hate us, Rauk.", Koso explained, "He hates you."

There were grunts and brief snorts of amusements from other warriors involved in the sorting and stowing of "salvaged" material that had come aboard Destroyer 741 much in the same way as the wounded and those who had died in transport the day before. Koso saw no point in mentioning the flaw in Rauk's complaint- namely that Rauk had not participated in the disposal detail the previous day. It was enough to keep the attitude of the detail positive and productivity nominal.

As Koso assisted a warrior from another unit whose name he did not know with the scorched but otherwise undamaged frontal assembly of a Regult's outer hull, he was sympathetic with Rauk's gripe. Adherence to Duty promised a warrior nothing but hardship and pain- but this was accepted as the warrior's existence and its selfless pursuit was a path that led, with Fate's favor, to glory. What was inexplicable and what Koso could never dwell on long without feeling a deep-seated resentment for The Robotech Masters was the fact that everything in a warrior's life seemed to involve struggle and discomfort.

The detail in which Koso was now involved was an example of this. With the speed and volume in which an automated factory could manufacture complete mecha, functional and ready for use, there was no reason why the Zentraedi could not be provided with replacement components in whose absence a unit's readiness could easily wither to the loss of functional equipment. Instead, like so many things, the Zentraedi had been forced to provide for themselves- taking from the battlefield what they needed to support combat effectiveness on the next battlefield. Even the process of removing usable components from a damaged mecha, or recognizing for that matter what could be reused was knowledge that came from the trial and error of generations.

Perhaps, Koso found himself thinking, Sub-Commander Ritzal didn't hate his warriors, but there were times and indications that suggested The Robotech Masters did.

Koso and the nameless warrior nestled the hull assembly they carried into the neatly arranged row of identical parts that was forming on the deck from the efforts of warriors working to unload three transports. The sub-lieutenant grimaced slightly as the effort of bending to set the piece down rewarded him with a dull ache from his recently cracked and repaired ribs. The medical procedure of mending a fractured or broken bone, a standard one conducted routinely, was another example in Koso's mind of potential versus realized benefit to warriors through the knowledge and technology of The Robotech Masters. His ribs had been repaired quickly- fused solid and stronger than they had been before- but the residual pain lingered. He was made functional again, and The Masters' needs satisfied, there were no other considerations given.

This was a warrior's life though.

Almost as quickly as the transports were being unloaded, a second detail of warriors was busily at work reducing larger components to their more basic parts. While some disassembled components, others verified the functionality of parts by inserting tester probes into the appropriate ports. Once parts were deemed viable, they were loaded into general purpose storage crates and shuttled away by heavy load sleds for stowing.

Normally, parts and components would be transported to the areas of the ship where they would be proximal to the mecha systems in which they were used. Creative adaptation of unused space to include crates that were either locked down or spot-welded with laser torch to the decks of hangars and mecha storage spaces was standard practice in stowing, but not today. The expectation of putting in to an automated factory changed stowing considerations of salvaged parts.

Repair droids, the specialized-function but otherwise mindless minions of the automated factories would roam the decks soon after the ship moored- surveying the functional areas for damage and debris. Salvaged parts, despite the considerable effort involved in gathering, transporting, and sorting them would be perceived by a factory's droids as "debris" and cleared from the ship without consent or appeal.

To preserve stock in scavenged material and to defend the product of their efforts, warriors had discovered that parts and components stowed in barracks, fitness, and mess areas went unaffected by the repair droids' survey. Apparently, as a jaded warrior might expect, the living spaces provided for the Zentraedi were not considered "functional areas" of the ship and were low on the list of priorities for attention during refit and repair cycles. For this reason, warriors would be sleeping on their bunk mats in the corridors and companionways until the ship's stay in the automated factory was at an end- pieces of mecha that might eventually save their lives on the battlefield enjoying their bunks and sharing the mess tables with meals and drink.

"Squadron Command has transmitted synchronization mark-.", the navigator announced from his post on the command deck, "Forty-five seconds to fold."

"Fold system indicates nominal function.", the hyperspace fold operations supervisor announced after an additional review of his monitors, "Fold design is locked in- power level rising."

"Thirty seconds.", the navigator counted down, relaying the directions of the squadron navigator aboard Gymalt's command.

From the command bubble, seated in his chair, Pach was able to perceive the build to the hyperspace fold-jump if not physically feel it. Destroyer 741 hummed as the main reactor powered up to provide the enormous surge of energy that was required to bend the fabric of space. The ship seemed to strain like a swift beast awaiting a release to sprint as the air grew charged with the tingle of static energy.

"Fifteen seconds."

"Secure main propulsion to stand-by.", Sub-Commander Dychi ordered, carrying out one of his few responsibilities for the operation.

"Main engines secured to stand-by."

The main viewscreen, now dedicated in its entirety to a forward view showed the brilliant and rapidly successive blue flash of other vessels in the Fleet ahead of the 4234th Destroyer Squadron in the order of departure vanishing into hyperspace.

"Ten seconds."

Commander Pach took a final moment to enjoy the view of space in its soothing desolation and limitless depth. He would not see the star-dotted blackness again until the ship reached its destination in an entirely different portion of the galaxy. Tammus 7 had long since fallen away, and for the brutality and carnage that had occurred there, Pach was just as content to let it go without another glimpse.

"Five seconds. Initiating fold sequence."

"Four."

"Three"

"Two."

"One."

"Execute.", Pach ordered.

The starfield vanished into a blue dissolve of churning, amorphous patterns of varying hues. To those outside of the hull-conformal warp field, Destroyer 741 appeared to vanish like a lightning strike in the void.

Within the bubble in hyperspace, save a slight and quickly passing nauseous sensation that often accompanied a fold for many, the physical world and its laws remained unchanged.

"Fold systems showing design execution according to fold profile.", announced the navigator.

The ship was underway.

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