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.

4. Chapter 4: The Question of Coexistence

Chapter Four

The Question of Coexistence

"Primitive as they are, the Invid have and will always have one advantage on us- single mindedness."

'When I say single mindedness, I don't just mean their overarching compulsion to unilaterally control The Flower of Life in the universe, or to destroy anyone or anything not Invid that has touched or been influenced by it. No, I also mean in the sense that they share a collective thought process- all Invid in essence being components of a single mind."

"While on an individual-to-individual basis, they are at a significant disadvantage to the dimmest or most novice Zentraedi for their loss of such critical warrior's traits as cunning and spontaneity in action, their fault of single mindedness also carries with it an inherit strength. Invid know each other's minds as it is their own. They trust one another without reservation, qualification, or exception."

"We- Zentraedi- on the other hand exist to battle to varying degrees with all around us- even ourselves. We approach every encounter with suspicion. We do not trust even our own kind. Males mistrust females, females mistrust males- of this, I am guilty too and have many suspicions about the males with whom we're to join forces. I am also certain that on both sides, male and female, that I am not the only warrior guilty of personal misgivings."

"We are Zentraedi, and we will overcome if only in functioning- even if the struggle is an internal one. The Invid have shown a strength that we do not possess though, and I find that disturbing. If we cannot trust one another, can we unite against a common enemy? -And if we cannot unite against the common enemy, can we realistically hope for victory?"

- Lieutenant 1st Grade Marosa

4th Platoon, 2nd Company, 93rd Quadranos

Deep Space

If "space" within the boundaries of a galaxy could be characterized as comparatively minute quantities of matter existing in a massive volume, then "space" outside of those boundaries would have to be defined as an insignificant, almost unnoteworthy quantity per the same volume. The latter thus applied to the region of space between the outer spiral arms of the Pril-E'Dam Galaxy.

The vast majority of mass residing in this desolate and expansive region that spanned thousands of light-years cubed fell into the categories of dust and gas too diffuse to accumulate into even a visible wisp of coalesced matter. Larger particles did exist here ranging in size from pebbles to asteroids that rivaled in size the largest mountains- all exiles from the formation of the Pril-E'Dam Galaxy and sentenced to roam as nomads for a virtual eternity until the rotation of the galaxy's arms again brought the hope of contact with another celestial body.

These were the random inhabitants of the void and their circumstances.

There were occupants of the great gulf between the spiral arms of the galaxy that were there by intelligent design and waited with a patience known only by artificial intelligence for a rendezvous of specific purpose.

A great giant of nickel and iron drifted like a feather on a light breeze through the emptiness. At a glance, or even under passing scrutiny the massive asteroid could have passed as no different from any that wandered the cosmos aimlessly. Only a number of excavated breeches of considerable size in the asteroid's natural form and countless others too small to be noticed from anything but the closest proximity to the giant hinted at the possibility that there was something more to this nomad than rock. Indeed, there was more to be discovered by the curious, but that could only be accessed by a sanctioned few.

Deep within the nearly impenetrable shell of metal ores, a mechanical organism slumbered- mostly.

A powerful artificial mind capable of flawlessly overseeing millions of functions for the facilitation of a single purpose was mostly dormant, monitoring and aware of only the basic activiities that pertained to its existence. The passage of time was monitored, years and decades counted with little more concern by the artificial mind than the passage of seconds was by mortal creatures. On a basic level, the same reduced consciousness listened to the cosmos with electronic ears for a specific call that would allow it to apply itself to the fullest potential of its purpose.

And then it had come.

A transmission had been filtered out of the noise of the universe which the idling artificial mind recognized and to which it was obligated to respond. The message was a simple request for identity, location, and preparedness to serve. Despite the mind's mostly dormant state, the reply to the transmission's sender was instantaneous and was followed on by messages between identical minds in locations at unfathomable distances to determine which was best to serve the needs of the caller.

Of the candidates within range to respond, it was decided collectively and quickly that the giant in the far corner of the Pril-E'Dam Galaxy was the best suited to fulfill its role.

And now the time was almost upon it.

"It" , with its limited capacity (by design) for self-awareness was a Robotech Automated Factory of the Trendok 145 Class and configuration. The semi-sentient portion of the great synthetic organism, the Hypercomp, was no different from any of its siblings trusted with the conduct of any of thousands of Factories. Only the organization of the Trendok 145's facilities was unique by the dictates of it's asteroid-body's size and shape. Its function, the support of Zentraedi and to a lesser extent Robotech Masters' forces was the same.

The massive portals excavated from the solid rock whose presence was the only outwardly visible characteristic that would distinguish a Robotech Factory from an asteroid of similar size gave way to expansive space docks capable of accommodating scores of cruisers simultaneously. Here the factory's maintenance and repair drones with the cooperative effort of other automated equipment and facilities serving the same function would methodically return even the most battle-damaged vessels to a near pristine state, even to the detail level of restoring standard informational signs and markings within the ship's interior spaces. Tirelessly and with unparalleled efficiency these workers of the greater machine would toil until every unit of a fleet was restored to prime operational condition.

The Trendok 145 Factory, any Robotech Automated Factory for that matter was more than a safe port for the refit of spacecraft. The spacedocks were, true to form following function, clustered about the true marvel of the automated factories- the manufacturing and storage hub.

Controlled by the Hypercomp, as were all the systems of the Factories, the Trendok 145 was a self-sufficient island of industry in a sea of nothing. All materials required to sustain the Zentraedi in their war-making existence from the unit patches and rank insignia of their uniforms to the spacecraft that ferried them as instruments of The Robotech Masters' influence from star system to star system originated from a facility like the Trendok 145.

Including the Zentraedi.

It was the Zentraedi warriors, genetically engineered by the Hypercomp and artificially gestated and kept in stasis by lots in the thousands that represented the most complex products of the Robotech Automated Factories. In a very real sense, these facilities could have been aptly described as the mothers of a people. Even in its most minimal operating capacity the Hypercomp watched over its slumbering "children" with the diligence of the most doting mother.

Clones- Zentraedi- were birthed into a slumber in which the fine details of skills, memory, and mind were cemented in anticipation of their Awakening. Many spent decades in the limbo of artificial hibernation before being roused for a life that was often much shorter and always far more violent. Others, less fortunate perhaps than even those who lived only a short conscious life to meet a brutal end, were gestated and remained in stasis until even the substantial knowledge and skill of The Robotech Masters in cheating death through science gave way to the inevitability of failure in biological systems. Clones deemed no longer viable by a timetable kept and a battery of relatively simple tests performed by subsystems of the Hypercomp in its uncompromising, methodical ways were terminated, disposed of, and returned to their base components to enter existence again as part of a new lot of clones.

Doting a mother as it was, Hypercomp was also necessarily stern.

Whether it mourned in some rudimentary way the loss of its children never given the opportunity to achieve their full potential, it was unclear. In the intimacy of creation the Hypercomp shared with its Zentraedi children, one could have been excused to imagine that even a machine felt some small sense of loss.

The Hypercomp could certainly have not shown less concern than The Robotech Masters.

Whether Awakened aboard a Factory, or transferred within a stasis tube to a similar storage facility aboard a warship of the fleet- the Factory was the common womb of the race.

As a mother, the Hypercomp and its systems of the Factory nurtured and sustained its children as well- even if hastening them at the same time to their ends. With no less diligence under Hypercomp's supervision the Factories produced the less complex though longer-lived weapons and machines that had carried Zentraedi into battle for generations. Not completely unlike their living counterparts, these machines too were stored in great warehouses awaiting issuance to and employment in the Zentraedi forces.

So was the purpose of the Robotech Automated Factories- to roam the universe never too distant from Zentraedi operations, standing in wait for the call to service.

And to this Trendok 145 Factory, the call had come.

Twice.

The hour of rendezvous was growing near and in the same methodical way that Hypercomp undertook all of its responsibilities. Step by step and mostly in ways that were unperceivable to the senses, the Factory underwent the processes required to prepare for a fleet's arrival. Internal systems checks and subsystems checks were executed at a dizzying pace to offset the unlikely possibility that some element of the massive facility might have fallen into dysfunction and require maintenance. When all technical aspects of preparedness had been accounted for, the final step in readying the Factory for its visitors commenced.

Light fixtures in thousands of kilometers of passageways and countless millions of cubic meters of compartments flickered to life and came quickly to full, glaring brilliance. Long devoid of sound, a great shriek howled collectively through the work and living spaces as atmosphere was tested for suitability and released into the vacuum of the compartments. It would take many hours for the life support systems to heat the great volume of air to a comfortable level, but there was time. Without the benefit of a conscious soul to hear it, the internal structure of the Trendok 145 groaned as atmospheric pressure came to bear on it once again sounding like the rousing noises of a beast waking from its slumber.

Silhak

Point Lieutenant Tuissant, 2nd Company, 93rd Quadranos understood with quiet humility that with the title of Quadrano- the female officer elite corps of warriors- came some modest benefits not enjoyed by other officers and certainly never bestowed upon the lesser warrior grades. Barracking for instance was organized by unit as with other warriors, but for Quadranos the unit size per berthing compartment was that of a platoon instead of an entire company. Granted, the barracks space was significantly smaller than what would be assigned to a company of standard infantry warriors or Gnerl pilots, but per occupant there was more space and therefore a sense of privacy was easier to achieve- a luxury of sorts.

It was likely to foster camaraderie at the platoon level, the optimal size for Quadrano unit operations, that the elite shock troopers were barracked this way and not for any reason of conscious preference. Whatever the motives, it was a small and rare consideration that Tuissant's units received aboard the 417th's flagship with the other officers of the 93rd Quadranos, and one she was sure her subordinates were mindful of.

In Point Lieutenant Tuissant's mind being "mindful" of the luxury of the barracking arrangements of the Quadranos took on meaning on several levels. More spacious per warrior than any other berthing conditions aboard Silhak with the obvious exception of General Bohen's quarters, the Quadrano barracks were also more proximal to the mid-ship "wing" hangars containing their unique Queadlunn-Rau combat suits than other mecha or Gnerl units were to their corresponding hangars. The unspoken implication seemed to be, in Tuissant's mind, that Quadranos were expected to be the quickest to act in any situation and as a result, the company commander made every attempt to see that her officers were prepared to do so.

Beside the proximity to their tools of action, the Quadrano barracks put the elite units closer to the command center of the ship than any other unit, and consequently made the Quadranos more likely to happen upon the upper echelons of command without warning. For this reason Tuissant also insisted on the most meticulous attention paid to details of personal and uniform appearance in her officers when outside of the barracks, and an equal level of care given to the keeping of a tidy living space within.

It was Tuissant's philosophy that energy invested in attention to any detail was beneficial, and never energy wasted.

Energy, by order of Commander Shohet on orders from General Bohen herself, was to be invested in a detail of another kind which was what brought Tuissant before her assembled company on their hangar deck. Amongst their Queadlunn-Rau suits, having been checked from crowning antenna-array to toe following the joined action with the males against the Invid the suits now stood idle but ready at a moment's notice in their stowing mounts four apiece to anchoring posts – the Quadranos of 2nd Company stood at attention.

"Stand at ease.", Tuissant said as she paced the deck before her officers as was her custom during impromptu briefings.

The postures of the Quadranos relaxed slightly as eyes remained fixed and ears attentive.

"I realize that we're all anxious to get off this ship once we've reached the Factory in order to stretch our legs a little- but we're warriors first. As warriors, we have no obligations or interests above Duty, and Duty has given us a tasking. General Bohen, while having come to an agreement of cooperation with the males, is uncertain about the discipline of the male warriors of the lower grades. As a result, and though there is no official order for segregation between the male forces and ourselves, Quadrano units will have the responsibility of maintaining order in those areas of the Factory proximal to the ships of our Fleet. As our warriors are, so too are the males to come and go as they please throughout the Factory facility- but we will monitor their activities carefully in our areas, and especially around the access points to the flagship. In short, do not be hostile, but be observant and make your presence known to them. As the refitting and repair of the Fleet progresses, General Bohen may relax these security provisions assuming that there are no incidents of significance- but for now, this is our burden."

"Commander Shohet asked for a unit to volunteer for the first sentry rotation, so I offered up 2nd Company. As a result, upon arrival when de-fold stations are sounded, we will prep and suit up. I'm sure you are all frustrated to some degree, but I assure you the Factory will still be there after and we will be there for some time."

"Are there any questions?"

Lieutenant Talstot of 2nd Platoon raised her hand without reservation. Point Lieutenant Tuissant was good to her word that the solicitation of questions was indeed a genuine solicitation.
"Talstot?"
"Liege, if we're enforcing agreeable coexistence in our docking areas, then what's being done to ensure it where our forces will definitely mingle with the males?"

Tuissant nodded her acknowledgement of a good question representing a legitimate concern, "All unit officers and sub-officers are accountable for the conduct of their warriors as well as themselves. It's reasonable to assume that the male commanders have expressed similar expectations to their subordinates. Hopefully the fear of having disembarkation privileges revoked on both sides will maintain self-discipline in all. We will see. Moreover, and this is solely my impression, the interaction of our two forces is a necessary risk. It is exceedingly likely that we will be joining battle again as one, so we must learn one another's character. As Quadranos, I expect nothing less from you than the personification of The Warrior's Code. Are there any other questions?"

When no additional questions were forthcoming, Tuissant made a quick turn on her heel that placed her facing her unit.

"Return to your duties then. Dismissed."

Leaving the hangar deck for a corridor other than the one Point Lieutenant Tuissant had exited to, Lt. Vala of 3rd Platoon was still hushed in her tone as she griped to Marosa who had followed her from the assembly.

"If this isn't the most pathetic demonstration of unnecessary force posturing, it has to be something new and lower.", Vala grumbled, careful not to be overheard by a handful of crew as they passed in the companionway, "I've been living for a cycle in a relaxation chamber for weeks, and dying for one since I heard we'd actually be putting in at a Factory."

Marosa was able to conceal her happiness that it was Vala voicing the frustration she too felt. While a warship was provided only the facilities required to sustain the crew and warriors aboard, Robotech Automated Factories (by warrior's lore and four visits Marosa had been personally a part of since her Awakening) were known to offer amenities that seemed to serve no function other than to provide additional comfort and rehabilitation to combat-worn warriors. Zentraedi could almost consider themselves as equals in importance in the eyes of The Robotech Masters to their vessels when put in at a Factory. Common spaces were sufficiently large as to rarely feel cramped despite the fact that a sizable portion of a fleet could occupy the facility at once with its crew and personnel disembarked. Facilities such as the fitness maintenance rooms were cleaner and accommodated the masses easily with space even provided for sport that was little more than thinly masked, small unit combat training. Even the ga'rhot from the nutrient dispensers in the mess rooms, and the quality of treatment in the infirmaries seemed superior.

And of course there were the relaxation chambers.

Not a piece of medical equipment found even on flagships but common to the infirmaries of Robotech Automated Factories, it was commonly understood that these muscular therapy chambers as they were properly known were intended to stimulate and rehabilitate muscle tissue mended by the infirmary's automated surgical equipment. No one knew who had been the first Zentraedi to slip into the snug, isolated darkness of one of these capsule-shaped chambers for the sole purpose of enjoying the pulsating waves of warmth and gentle pressure they applied to the entire body, but Marosa was quietly grateful for their vision and willingness to share knowledge of that decadence.

"I'm with you on that completely.", Marosa said with a groan, feeling a knot in her lower back that had refused to go away since the last combat action, "But we should look at it this way- better first rotation and get it over with than take a later rotation when the Factory is gorged with males and risk having our time off the ship cut short by added security."

"And males smell foul too."

Lieutenant Etmal, of Marosa's 4th Platoon, was a perfect example in her leader's mind of the fact that one could be both elite and off-center. This was not to say that Etmal was not a valued and trusted warrior in the platoon- quite the contrary. In a fight she was every bit as reliable and courageous as the rest, and more so than some. Etmal did have an affinity for conjuring the oddest thoughts at times though and voicing them without hesitation.

Case in point.

"What?", Vala asked, stopping in the corridor so abruptly that she nearly caused a two-stage collision with Marosa and Etmal.

"Males smell bad.", Etmal repeated without so much as blinking, then remembering that her own thoughts were not audible to others without the assistance of the tongue and vocal cords, added, "You should be glad that we'll have time to ease into that instead of getting thrown right into the mix with them."

Vala turned to look at Etmal for a moment before asking, "Etmal, have you ever been in the same room with a male?"

"Of course not, have you?", Etmal replied.

If the Invid had had the ability to ambush with conversation, it became clear to Marosa more than ever that Etmal would have never survived her first battle.

"Then how do you know that males smell bad?", Vala asked.

"I heard it from someone, who heard it from someone, who heard it from someone who has been close to a male.", Etmal said sounding victorious.

"Ah, right-.", Vala said, abandoning the futile argument and turning again to continue on her way, "Solid confirmation."

"Are you headed for the simulators?", Marosa asked as she continued to follow Vala.

"Yes, I'm falling behind for this rating period.", Vala said, "Join me?"

"I might.", Marosa said, "Better than fitness maintenance right now- I did something to my back somewhere-."

"What if the males get to the relaxation chambers before we do, and I mean a lot of them-. That smell would be locked in there with you-.", Etmal continued, the conversation still clearly being alive in her mind, "I don't know if I could handle that."

Marosa snapped over her shoulder, "You know, you're not exactly a breeze of fresh air either after you've been bottled up in a combat suit for fourteen hours, Etmal."

"But you never smell yourself.", Etmal countered, then continued, "-But males don't really use the relaxation chambers, so I'm guessing that there's not a great chance of that happening anyway."

"Let me guess-.", Vala speculated, "Someone, who knew someone, who-."

"Not the same warrior.", Etmal replied, "And how do you know it's not true?"

"She has a point, Vala.", Marosa observed.

"Don't encourage her, Marosa.", said Vala.

"It's probably because they eat their own dead- that makes sense if you think about it.", Etmal rambled on.

"What?", Marosa asked, it being her turn to be dumbfounded.

"Well, maybe not the whole body, but-. Look, I knew someone who-."

"I think thruster vapor has gotten into your breathing mix. The whole body, some of the body-. How about none of the body? Do you ever listen to yourself?", Marosa said earnestly, "You worry me sometimes, Etmal- seriously."

"-But that doesn't mean it isn't true!"

An adjoining corridor brought the officers to a halt as teams of deck crews shuttled salvaged parts and equipment from a hangar deck somewhere forward toward an unknown destination. Processing and stowing of salvaged material from Tammus 7 had been concluded, and now somewhat cancer-like the ship was devouring its own operational mecha and equipment for those components that were most often needed in times of heavy combat.

No questions were asked by any that saw the practice in execution. To not take full advantage of the opportunity to stockpile as many material reserves as possible before putting in to a Factory was wasteful at best. The Automated Factory would replace the ship's entire mecha complement regardless of their functional state, so in truth only mecha that were not disassembled and stashed away from the standard routine of survey droids were truly lost.

"You could join in on this detail, Etmal", Vala suggested, "They could use your energy."

"Physical labor or simulator time- let me think-.", Etmal said, mildly offended by the suggestion.

"Would you at least ease off on the mess room speculation then?", Vala pleaded.

"Sure-.", agreed Etmal, her appetite for spreading acquired hearsay apparently satiated- temporarily, "Kick me for sharing what I know though- that really fosters communication."

"I'll take the risk.", Vala said.

"It makes you wonder what the males say about us?", Marosa said to her two companions as a gap in the stream of spare parts opened to allow them to continue on their way.

Etmal's mind was quick to seize upon the possibilities, "Zor only knows. Some warriors believe anything they hear, you know- especially males."

Destroyer 741

"What do you mean, we're not being released on rotation?"

Hedra, his lieutenant's badge of rank still new and stiff on his duty tunic knew that with even the most obedient warriors that in the barracks reaction to the news would be bad. Koso, his sub-lieutenant's patch even newer than Hedra's lieutenant's, was not improving the situation by the tone of his question.

Nearly fifty warriors, far less than the barracks was intended to berth but far more than the row between the aisles of bunks where Hedra had assembled them could comfortably hold, waited with stifled indignation to hear the officer's response.

The fact that the barracks was for the foreseeable future no longer functionally theirs- the bunks and at least half the space of the other aisles occupied by salvaged mecha components and equipment that was now being joined by supplemental material being cannibalized before it would be lost to the Factory's uncompromising resupplying efforts- already had tensions in the reduced company running high.

But now this-.

Koso felt the frustration every bit as keenly as the other warriors and accepted this as a natural response- but now perceived in the brief pause the building of a rebuke from Hedra that by virtue of his new position he and not his lieutenant should have been voicing.

"I mean that the order has been passed down through Sub-Commander Ritzal and me to you from Commander Pach says that this ship is on a tight turn-around schedule and that the stowing of provisions and munitions into every conceivable space takes priority over rotation onto the Factory-.", Hedra said asserting conviction in his words that carried measurable weight, "-And that order will be obeyed without question."

The censure from Lieutenant Hedra had been worded to apply generally, but Koso felt its point drive deeper into him as he was certain Hedra had intended it to. To Koso's surprise however, Hedra did not strike twice with the heavy tools of discipline that some officers employed regularly and by right. Rather, the new lieutenant explained patiently-.

"I've voiced my concerns about this to Sub-Commander Ritzal who has assured me that if at all possible we will receive what time can be afforded to us on The Factory. Bear the burden and press on- it is in all of our better interests to see the work done quickly and increase the chances that we will be granted rotation. Carry on!"

The assembly began to evaporate quickly in order to return to the duties that were responsible for their eviction from the barracks and had them sleeping in the corridors outside. There was a sort of renewed energy about the movement and stowing of the cannibalized parts and equipment, fueled perceivably by anger that was being admirably channeled into the detail by the warriors at work. Koso, shamefaced beyond his ability to conceal fully, tried to withdraw into the dissolving crowd in hopes of resuming the tasks at hand without further embarrassing himself.

Hedra though was every bit as keen on snaring his sub-lieutenant in his retreat as Koso was in making it, and with their proximity to one another Hedra had the upper hand.

"A word, Sub-Lieutenant-.", Hedra said, pointing to the berthing area's alternate entrance that was going unused by the warriors involved in the stowing activity.

The smaller corridor off the rear of the barracks was deserted through the two passageway intersections that could be seen in either direction. Koso wasn't certain whether that would make what he knew had to be coming next more or less painful, but he knew he would find out the moment the barracks door slid shut.

"And so-?", Hedra asked as Koso turned to face him and stood rigidly to attention to face the reprimand that reflection that the short walk's time had allowed told him he was deserving of.

Better to get it over with.

"There's no excuse, Hedra.", Koso admitted stoically.

"There's no excuse, what?"

"What, what?"

"Say it again."

"Say what?"

"My name, say it again, Sub-Lieutenant."

Koso felt the point drive deeper and twist, "There's no excuse, Lieutenant Hedra."

"Now, one more time.", Hedra said again, standing in close enough that their noses nearly touched.

"Lieutenant Hedra.", Koso repeated.

Hedra stood back half a pace, easing the tension slightly.

"Now, do we have to discuss what that means?"

Koso had the distinct impression that he was being herded into an untenable position, but there was nowhere else to go.

"No, Lieutenant Hedra."

"Well, we're going to- and this will be the last time, Sub-Lieutenant.", Hedra in a tone equal parts level and harsh, "When it comes to matters of orders, and particularly in front of warriors our friendship is irrelevant. You are an extension of me as I am an extension of my superior and so on- all the way up. Your opinion is mine, and you do not voice any other or it makes me look weak-."

"-I understand, Hedra-."

Hedra snapped, his face flushing, "I'm not finished! Shut up!"

Koso for the first time felt the urge to retreat from his friend, but knew better and held his ground. Hedra had not resorted to physical blows, but it was not outside of the realm of possibilities, and Hedra was not above it.

A finger wagged in Koso's face instead.

"If the warriors in our platoon see any difference of opinion in adherence to Duty between us, that puts a crack in our command structure. If they start looking to you for affirmation of an order, that makes them think they have an option and widens that crack. Now, if they do that in battle- if they hesitate to follow an order- that is going to get us all killed sooner or later. You know that, and I shouldn't be reminding you of it! Now, are you prepared to do your job or do I have to pull that sub-lieutenant's patch off your shoulder and hand it to someone else?!"

Koso felt numb- a very disarming sensation to which he would have even preferred fear or rage. Perhaps it was the shame that Hedra was correct on all points, and that it was only the rapidly deflating currency of their friendship that likely still had him wearing his new badge of rank- and breathing.

"You'll have no more problems out of me, Lieutenant."

Hedra pointed to the door from which they had exited, "Then get back in there and get that detail on task with conviction."

"Yes, Leutenant."

Senses heightened by the confrontation, both warriors outside of the rear door to the barracks heard and snapped their attention to the slight noise of retreating footsteps that were not as discrete as the owner of the boots would have liked.

Both Hedra and Koso got only a brief glimpse of the figure as he turned the corner of an intersecting companionway and vanished toward the main corridor. The split-second's view showed the figure to be in full officer's uniform- uncommon attire in the berthing spaces of warriors where work was often manually intensive and promised to soil garments. Neither warrior recognized the officer from the view they had been presented, but he was not of the infantry element of the ship's complement- and as other officers and warriors from the ship's other divisions were at their own tasks- that only left the company of command personnel for the individual to be from.

"This makes me nervous, Gerrok.", Jerl admitted as The Chief worked to remove the grated vent cover in the top rear bulkhead of the quarters to which he and three other division heads were assigned, "I agree completely with the unsanctioned work we do regularly, of course- but you're saying that we're to disclose the details of that work to others? Isn't that- risky?"

Gerrok did not even look back over his shoulder as he worked the grate out of its fittings, careful not to mar the uniform grey paint of the wall in any way that would suggest that the ventilation system had been accessed. Jerl came to realize quickly that whatever Gerrok was going into the ductwork to retrieve was something precious and it was likely by the care he took to conceal the vent's dual purpose as a hiding place that the other occupants of the cabin were not even aware of its presence. Jerl chose to remain quiet from that moment on, knowing that a thorough chastising was already in his future from a natural master.

"I'm glad you approve, Jerl. I didn't ask.", Gerrok said as the grate finally came free in his hands and he tossed it casually to Jerl who for his own sake was sure to catch it, "And no, it's not risky. It's no different than salvaging or trading in parts- we just have to keep it low profile and between engineers. Everyone benefits. This is nothing new- The Exchange has been around since before you or I. Besides, who's going to report us?"

"I defer to your better judgment.", Jerl said simply, not having taken the beating he was expecting.

"-The smartest thing you've said in recent memory.", Gerrok said with approval as he removed a thick parcel from the vent, "Now be quiet and listen."

The bundle, wrapped in uniform tunic cloth and bound with a strip of the same came free of the vent whose full height and width it almost completely occupied. What was more was that the strip of fabric that bound the cloth enveloped package together was connected to a second bundle by a similar strand, and that second to a third, and the third to a fourth.

In turn, Gerrok handed each parcel down to Jerl who by the fourth was behind a stack over whose top he could no longer see. The revealing of the vent as a hiding place and of its contents did explain to Jerl how the officers' cabin which he had visited on numerous uncomfortable occasions had always seemed stuffy and stagnant of air.

"This-.", Gerrok said, patting the top of the stack of bundles at the level of Jerl's forehead, "- is the bulk of the knowledge I've accumulated in my time as an engineer. I'm trusting you more than most by showing you where I keep it."

Jerl glanced sideways at one of the empty bunks that was becoming an increasingly tempting place to lighten his burden, "I'm honored, Lord, really-."

"Don't flatter yourself, Jerl.", Gerrok said bluntly having read Jerl's implication, "My choices were slim at best. –And in the name of Zor put those down before you drop and scatter them."

With Gerrok's words, Jerl gratefully deposited the bundles on a bunk and stood back lest he draw more wrath for being in closer proximity to these objects of reverence than Gerrok who had compiled them.

The chief engineer carefully untied the crude but secure knot on the first parcel and unfolded the fabric wrapping to reveal a stack of non-conducting storage partitions. These thin sheets of synthetic material were normally used in the packaging of rifle energy clips and shaped charges that could be found in any ship's armory. Intended to prevent the generation of a static charge in explosives storage cases and to prevent the gradual draining of energy clips by coincidental contact within their cases, it had also been discovered by an unknown warrior at some point that the material was a good if not ideal size on which to jot notes or to create signs where the minimal variety of furnished writing materials did not suit the purpose.

For purposes of explanation, Gerrok thumbed through a small portion of the open bundle's contents and handed it to Jerl. The junior officer accepted the offering and found each partition to be headed with a simple notation of the improvised page's contents, numbered, and then filled to capacity with hand written notes and diagrams in Gerrok's recognizable, rigid script.

"You've catalogued all of this?", Jerl asked, amazed at the hours of work represented by the few pages he held in his hand.

"Catalogued from what I've learned, and copied at The Exchange from others as well.", Gerrok admitted with surprising modesty, "Take this as seriously as anything you do, Jerl. What you're holding is nothing less than life itself. Every ship, this ship is a little shell that holds in the air and carries everything we need to live. We take care of that shell. When you stumble across a cruiser full of the corpses of warriors that died because their air recyclers failed or because they didn't know to replace a simple part of their own fold system and starved before they could reach a Factory to reprovision-."

Gerrok paused, perhaps at catching himself at being dramatic in a way that was not normally his. Collecting himself, he continued.

"You're not completely dull, so I think you now understand the importance of The Exchange. You also realize now why it's in no Zentraedi's interest to see the business of The Exchange disrupted, and why we operate quietly at the same time. Too much rides on our shoulders, Jerl- and you're to be a part of that now."

Jerl returned the pages to Gerrok's hands and cautiously said, "Again, thank you for your trust in this."

Gerrok snorted, returning the sampling of knowledge to the stack from which it had come, "That trust is tentative-. You have to earn it now. Commit as much of this to memory as you can, and be familiar with the rest. We won't have unlimited time with The Exchange and you need to know where we have gaps in our knowledge and what knowledge we have to trade for it."

"I'll work hard to do so.", Jerl said earnestly, "The information is traded and not shared?"

"Bartered for is probably most accurate-.", Gerrok clarified, "Look, I don't know why it's that way, Jerl- it just is. You're starting to give me a headache."

"My apologies, Lord-.", Jerl said genuinely, "I'll do my best to learn- quietly."

"Good. I'd hate to have to put you out an airlock and start again with someone new- mostly that last part."

Jerl was quiet for a moment but his mind was at work clearly to Gerrok who felt the dread of the inane questions common to those joining into something unfamiliar to them. Surprisingly, when he did speak, Jerl broached a subject that Gerrok had not considered.

"Will the females be at The Exchange?"

Caught off guard, Gerrok stumbled clumsily over his words at first, "I- I'm not sure-. I've never been to an Exchange where the females were present- I'm not even certain that they're aware of it or participate-. We'll see. I suspect they have the same needs for information that we do, Jerl- they salvage the battlefield for parts, don't they?- They probably need to exchange technical knowledge too."

"That makes sense.", Jerl affirmed.

"Jerl-."

"Yes, Sub-Commander?"

"I didn't ask."

"Yes, Sub-Commander."

The nerve center of the ship stood mostly idle under the watch of a skeleton staff below Pach in his place within the command bubble. The staff and crew of junior officers and warrior grade personnel normally gathered around the numerous posts had all been moved to various other areas of the ship to participate in work details. This was not uncommon during time spent in spacefold transit as few of the numerous skills associated with the handling of a warship were required while in hyperspace. Helming and traditional navigation personnel were not required- the principles and methods of moving a vessel through the three dimensions of physical "real-space" not applying in hyperspace. The ship's "navigation" was under control of the spacefold system computers and only monitored at regular intervals by technicians who did little more than compare the fold execution outputs to the established design of the leap; which was to say a comparison of numbers as the actual algorithms involved in verifying such an undertaking as spacefold were far too complex to be solved in a meaningful way by a team of twenty in a reasonable time. "Navigation" was a check of faith.

Sensor stations stood dark, the "eyes" and "ears" of the ship normally responsible for pulling in all the details of the surrounding universe having been powered down. Only the thinnest sheath of real-space now enveloped the ship, providing nothing of value to see. Hyperspace, what lay beyond the boundaries of the ship's conformal fold bubble was an immense tapestry of absolute nothingness that would have been indecipherable to the ship's sensors could they have looked beyond the ship's own warp field.

Similarly fire control and air traffic control were dark for want of employment in either area. Officers normally tasked with supervising the collaborative efforts of any ot these areas of the ship's command and control were now charged with overseeing work details utilizing the otherwise idle hands of the sub-officer grades who would have also served on the command deck normally. The criticality of their irregular tasks had been carefully imparted upon them all by the senior officer staff and at the initiation of the work details had apparently taken hold.

Mere pretenses.

Pach's presence in the command bubble was something of a pretense as well. His being at the command post was as crucial at this moment for ship's operations as the proper functioning of the sensor systems- which was to say not at all. He had already made two complete circuits of the ship's major spaces across all of the decks- passing through different, lesser traveled areas on each round. The junior officers, crew, and warriors needed the reinforcement of their commander's interest in the absence of a logical explanation for some of the tasks they were conducting. This, as much as standing as a symbol in the command bubble now was Pach's duty of pretense.

The commander had felt the cumulative weight of quick glances by both officers and warriors as he had made rounds of the ship's decks. In some cases, where officers or warriors were new and inexperienced- his showing of rank in their midst had had the desired effect of focusing the energies of the crew on their tasks and keeping their minds from straying to the liberties of the Factory.

In many cases it had not.

Those warriors and officers who had been with the ship for some time and who knew that all of the vessel's needs could be attended to without a single warrior lifting a finger were no less responsive to the commander's appearance- but one could feel the difference in their level of enthusiasm toward their tasks. Of greater concern to Pach was the feeling that general suspicion ran stronger in these warriors- suspicion without a definite form. These amorphous suspicions were the most dangerous kind Pach knew because the natural tendency would be for warriors to latch on to the most plausible if not official explanation for their denial of liberty, even if it was unconfirmed. Then there were the warriors who would come to believe the outlandish- a smaller but potentially more volatile group whose implications Pach did not want to consider at that moment.

All around him, Pach could hear the questions being asked even if they were not being asked out loud. He would need to provide answers eventually before he reached the inevitable moment of practicality when liberty would have to be granted to the crew for lack of anything else to hold them aboard. The moment was not upon him yet, but it was on the horizon and the longer the time taken in reaching it, the more credible the explanation would have to be.

The door to the command bubble slid open- the mechanical action which usually went without notice seemed unusually loud in the absence of activity on the bridge. Pach also recognized at once that the churning of thoughts in his head had also heightened his senses. He wasn't sure if he'd started at the noise, but he was certain to have his composure back by the time the unannounced individual entered.

Pach recognized Dychi's form, distorted somewhat in reflection on the concave interior of the command bubble's acrylic fore-wall. The executive officer remained silent as he awaited his superior's acknowledgement- silent, but noticeably distracted.

"Problems?", Pach asked, only half turning to face his executive officer.

"Concerns, Lord.", Dychi replied, his voice carrying troubled undertones. At the time Pach had gone out to walk the decks, Dychi had requested leave from the command deck to do the same. While in hyperspace transit and with the bulk of the crew that was on watch engaged in "work details", the ramifications of leaving the ship under the supervision of a senior lieutenant on the command deck were minimal. From Pach's point of view, Dychi served the ship better as a second pair of eyes and ears to his own in walking the vessel than he did standing over the mostly automated functions of the command center. The executive officer's presence was not as commanding in stature or in authority as Pach's in the crew's eyes, but as an extension of the commander the sight of him would help keep all on task while Dychi at the same time was able to observe for his superior.

"What kind of concerns?"

"Disciplinary, Lord.", Dychi replied solemnly, "There's a level of unrestrained discontent amongst many of the lower grades that I find disquieting."

Pach mused mirthlessly, "An interesting choice of words. After all, it's our silence causing the discontent that you find disquieting. A necessary measure for the time being. We're not going to be able to retain the level of control that I would have liked, Dychi. As creative as we are with finding work to keep our warriors from coming into contact with Sylas's and the others', it won't last with any legitimacy. I think now that the best we can hope for is that our warriors will be so preoccupied with a shortened leave of liberty that contact will be minimal. It may simply come down to a matter of trusting that our warriors will not be swayed by the others in the squadron against us."

"Trusting in a warrior's good conscience and loyalty to this chain of command seems tenuous, Lord.", Dychi observed, "At best, it's a game of chance with each individual."

"As are many of the elements of command that we take for granted, Dychi.", Pach replied, "Perhaps Gymalt is correct, and I'm just over-thinking the situation. Wouldn't you say that's a possibility also? Perhaps we've positioned ourselves the best way possible and now we have nothing left to do but execute and wait to react-."

Dychi became noticeably uncomfortable at his commander's apparent solicitation for him to evaluate his reasoning.

Pach recognized this before Dychi felt compelled to answer and freed him of the obligation. There were areas of command that Dychi had to be proficient if not comfortable in, and there were those he did not have to be immediately. This was one of the latter.

"I'm speaking to myself, of course."

"Yes, Lord.", Dychi replied- relieved somewhat.

"What disciplinary problems were you witness to?"

"Nothing serious at this point- several warriors involved in commonplace fights. Standard disciplinary action was taken at the unit level- reduction in rations and additional work duties mostly.", Dychi reported, "However, I was approached with an unusual number of questions from junior officers in particular."

"Questions?"

"Not openly, Lord.", Dychi was quick to say, amending his statement, "I believe that the sub-officers and the warrior grades are sensing your caution, only they do not know what's your cause for caution. For lack of a more creative explanation and to maintain a line of solidarity with you, Lord, I have simply reinforced your reasoning that we need to make the absolute most of the short turn-around time in refit. To what extent the explanation was accepted, I cannot say."

In that moment, Dychi validated completely Pach's decision to send him out through the ship on his informal inspection of the work details. Even if he was not aware of it, Dychi had been shown the crew's general thinking- an element that Pach was not privileged to by virtue of his position and the stoic displays of respect and obedience it garnered from the lower ranks.

"This could work to our advantage-.", Pach thought aloud, "I have an additional duty for you."

"Yes, Lord?"

"You will go through watch reports and identify all disciplinary infractions of the nature you described. Warriors who are found in violation of regulations of conduct will be stripped of liberty privileges. Let the word trickle down through the chain of command that we've identified sufficient time during refit to grant liberty, but that disciplinary violations will not be tolerated aboard or off the ship. Said violations will incur revocation of liberty for the offender's unit. The warriors will now have an incentive to conduct the duties we have identified when we put in. Unit officers and sub-officers will also have an incentive to more closely monitor their warriors once they leave the ship. That may be sufficient to minimalize the interaction between our crew and the others."

"Perhaps.", Dychi agreed, "Clever, Lord."

"Only if it works.", Pach replied, not as convinced as his executive officer, "The security details you identified. Are your teams selected and their rotations scheduled?"

"Yes, Lord."

Pach could hear Gymalt's voice at the back of his mind whispering the familiar words of wisdom he often had. Pach recognized that the moment of prudent preparation had been reached and taken advantage of.

"We've done what we can, Dychi. We can now only be observant and react."

Artoc

An unexpected summons to the senior officer's briefing room on General Krymina's request was not an unheard of occurrence in Caldettas's experience. Furthermore, the summons could come and had come at any hour, disturbing on occasion both duties of the watch and rest periods off watch.

Sub-General Caldettas, as executive officer of the 7th Grand Army of the Te'Dak Tohl was never truly "off duty" by virtue of the sheer weight of his responsibilities, but at the sanctioned times he was content to indulge in "down time". He was aware in knowing this about himself that this was an area where he and General Krymina differed. More than any officer or warrior he had ever come across and gotten to know well enough to make the judgment, she was the most constantly engaged. Never did she exhibit a desire for "down time", nor did she ever show the need. Knowing Krymina's savvy in the politics of Zentraedi military leadership and knowing Krymina's ability to forge the façade that best suited her to display, Caldettas was aware that this almost manic persona could have been one mostly put on for effect.

Still, Caldettas thought otherwise.

There was something genuine in Krymina's relentless way of being that surpassed even a master's ability to project without an actual character foundation to support it. No, as much as any ship of the fleet or her army as a system with a single purpose, Krymina was a tireless machine.

As a result, from time to time there were those irregular calls to counsel- even during times of hyperspace travel as the Fleet had been in for nearly eight days now. Topics could be grand or finite, but on whatever subject they met, Caldettas was always aware of the relentless activity behind Krymina's eyes.

On this occasion it was a shock and gave Caldettas a moment of pause that upon passing the guard to enter the senior briefing room, besides himself Jekketh was the only face to be seen common to that chamber. Panic, like a reflex action, had begun to swell in Caldettas that perhaps he had misread his security in his place as executive officer to Krymina and that Jekketh was present to willingly assist in vacating the office he aspired to. The swell flattened however as Caldettas recognized the less commonly seen but still familiar face of Nunda- Krymina's scientific advisor. A scientist, not even a Zentraedi one had any legitimate business in participating in an assassination (though Caldettas was certain that the Tirolian, Darius, would have risen to the occasion of challenging the rule if the right target and opportunity arose) so his concern quickly subsided.

"Scientists", as the term applied to Zentraedi were somewhat different from those of the same title from alien races such as the Tirolians. Zentraedi had a rather narrow scope of application for science, all facilitating the prosecution of military campaigns. Application and depth of knowledge in any of the countless disciplines had the goal of combat efficiency in mind. As a result, Zentraedi "scientists" (more commonly and comfortably referred to as "technicians" of their field) were more knowledgeable in academic areas than their combatant counterparts, and more disciplined in the skills of unbiased observation and planned experimentation.

Zentraedi scientific technicians were commonly looked down upon by the warrior elements of the aggressive society, forcing them to form an odd sub-culture removed from the mainstream. Where warriors might not fully appreciate the scientists though, shrewd commanders learned to incorporate their recommendations into the aspects of operations to which they applied. The folly of not doing so could manifest itself in a commander exposing a force for too long to environments to which even the Zentraedi's superb adaptability was not geared to cope or to introduce mechanized forces into conditions outside of their operational parameters. In either case, or in not heading a scientific technician's suggestions on the way to take strategic advantage of an environment- commanders who were unappreciative of the scientist's skill sets could easily find their own effectiveness compromised.

General Krymina was not a commander of thoughtless action. Commander Nunda's advice was rarely the basis for her decisions, but always a consulted factor in planning operations. Despite this, it was puzzling to Caldettas why Nunda would be at an impromptu meeting of high-ranking officers in the 7th Grand Army- limited as it was to Krymina, Jekketh, and himself. To Caldettas's knowledge, there was no operational planning at work outside of the most conceptual phases.

Still, here was Nunda, and Jekketh, and he in Krymina's presence. Whatever had to be discussed, it clearly was of importance with a scientific aspect, and by the lack of a greater number of Krymina's staff and officers, it was clear that the topic was not for broad dissemination.

Krymina gave no indication of displeasure at Caldettas's arriving last to her summons, though Jekketh was content to only thinly mask his satisfaction at being quicker to answer the call.

"Pardon me, Liege-.", Caldettas said taking his seat which at least Jekketh had not tried to occupy, "I was away from the command center on a related task when your staff came looking for me."

"Understood.", Krymina said, "Proceed with your report, Nunda."

Nunda could be given to long-windedness, but more often than not he was mindful of Krymina's preference for brevity in reporting and adhered to it. He cleared his throat and began simply.

"With your indulgence, General Krymina, a short preface to my report as only you and I were present when you assigned me to take up the study. My report is on the initial result sets for an experiment on the onset of The Withering on a cross-section of Te'Dak Tohl Zentraedi."

Caldettas recognized a rare expression of shock on Jekketh's face as he was feeling it himself. The degenerative condition was understood in implication very well by all Te'Dak Tohl, regardless of whether they had personally witnessed its effects. Moreover it was a source of shame- rarely talked about and never, to Caldettas's knowledge, explored.

Jekketh, to Caldettas's gratitude, was the one to voice his revulsion with, "Experiment? What kind of experiment?"

"The kind I ordered.", Krymina said bluntly, ending indignant protest with a few words, "Go on, Nunda."

Nunda continued his report showing as little remorse in what he said as Jekketh might show in conduct of his duties, "We selected a cross-section of Te'Dak Tohl- warriors, sub-officers, and officer stock both male and female and with a sampling of the four broadest genetic source pools for the experiment. We also selected a smaller control group with the same criteria. The test group was then divided further and subjected to a measured reduction in rations. The reduction levels were set at twenty, forty, and sixty percent with a uniform level of activity and environment provided for all test and control subjects. This experiment was initiated seven days ago.

"The situation is grave.", Nunda continued coldly, "Unfortunately, this study was hastily devised, but we have attempted to cover as broad a cross-section of factors as possible-."

"You've covered this.", Krymina said impatiently.

Nunda read the warning sign clearly, "Yes, Liege. To be brief, of the test set, all subjects provided with rations at a sixty percent reduction began to manifest early symptoms of The Withering by the fiftieth hour of the experiment. By the eightieth hour, all were in severe stages of the condition. None survived beyond the one-hundred-twentieth hour. At the same point, those test subjects given a forty percent reduction in rations were demonstrating moderate ill effects, and those at a twenty percent reduction showing minor ones."

"At that point we further subdivided the groups, restoring the sub-groups to full rations to measure response and improvement of their condition if any. I can report that those returned to full rations have demonstrated slow but clear improvement."

"How many deaths?", Krymina asked. Oddly, this was a question rarely asked by Krymina, even following combat operations. Somehow, this gave the words a more ominous sound in Caldettas's mind.

"Of the set whose rations were the most greatly reduced- all. Sixty, to be specific.", Nunda answered, "I suspect there will be losses from the mid-range set soon if we continue the experiment to-."

"Continue it.", Krymina instructed coldly, "And establish additional sets to test for how quickly we can recover from extreme depravation- if recovery is possible."

Nunda nodded in compliance, "It will be done, Liege."

"Who were the subjects?", Jekketh asked. There was some concern to his voice, a fact that shocked Caldettas greatly. Jekketh was accustomed to sending Te'Dak Tohl warriors into battle against great odds, and on occasion accepting the consequences in losses. For him to show consideration for a relative handful was out of character as Caldettas understood Jekketh.

"Drawn from stasis, Lord-.', Nunda explained, sensing Jekketh's mild disapproval and treading carefully, "None were from operational units, or had ever partaken in operations."

"This was by my order.", Krymina explained, offsetting Jekketh's apparent reservations with his sense of duty to her and to the chain of command, "These Te'Dak Tohl are unfortunate casualties. Unfortunate, but necessary given the situation Darius has brought to our attention. Their loss will provide us with the insight into exactly how reliant we are on the Tirolians for our continued survival."

"I would say dependant is an appropriate description, General.", Caldettas observed frankly, "Assuming that all elements of what he said were true. Nunda, could you isolate and reproduce the protein Darius spoke of whose absence causes The Withering?"

Nunda shook his head, "No, Lord- sadly not. Our facilities aboard Artoc and those available to us aboard Robotech Factories are sufficient to conduct many kinds of testing- possibly even testing and analysis of The Withering if we were to alter certain sanctioned tests or learned to interpret the result elements of others in an irregular way-. But strictly speaking, no- we do not have the ability to address the problem ourselves without a large margin of error in our conclusions. Even if we could, manufacturing this protein for effective consumption is outside of our sphere of experience. We are quite reliant on the Tirolian being able to deliver upon his promises I'm afraid."

"Initially at least.", Krymina conceded, "However, what of the possibility of synthesizing the protein ourselves once the Tirolians isolate it and begin production of the supplement on our behalf?"

Caldettas shook his head, "Possible, but doubtful, Liege. The Robotech Factories are programmed to respond automatically to our needs within established guidelines. As Te'Dak Tohl, the guidelines for us are broader than for the norghil- but we still cannot specifically identify and request a quantity of an unsanctioned product. The Robotech Masters may have even built a failsafe into the manufacturing system to prevent it. We don't know as no one has ever tried to my knowledge."

"And synthesis of a complex protein is definitely beyond our scope within the Fleet, General Krymina.", Nunda said, "We just don't have the facilities, as Darius himself said."

Krymina said to her science advisor, "Thank you, Nunda- that will be all."

Given his cue to leave, Nunda did so quickly, "Yes, Liege."

When the science technician had departed and only the command officers remained, Krymina continued.

"Comments?"

Jekketh spoke first, but conveyed well what Caldettas was also thinking, "Even the preliminary results of this testing show us to be in an extremely disadvantageous tactical position, General Krymina. Barring the hope that the Tirolian can deliver the supplement to us, and assuming that every Te'Dak Tohl command was fully provisioned at the time the Robotech Masters decided to turn off that supplement in our food supply- as a race we would have, what?- perhaps two years on the outside before we all fell to The Withering? I am forced to agree with Nunda- distasteful as the situation may be, we are dependent on the Tirolian for any future beyond what our current provisions provide."

"I concur with Jekketh.", Caldettas said, the words feeling quite unfamiliar as he spoke them, "The Tirolian does have us at a disadvantage. You said yourself, General Krymina, that you trust in Darius's assistance as long as cooperation suits him. I agree, but I would also assert that at some point our common interests will diverge and at that point I see no reason to expect anything from Darius. This is a creature who has at best has turned his back on his own kind for revenge, and more accurately is participating in their genocide through neglect. We would be wise to make it our highest priority to take measures to ensure our own survival at the first and at every opportunity. I could not be more serious when I say that our survival likely depends on it."

"I am in agreement.", Jekketh said, the words coming from him sounding even more alien to Caldettas than his affirmation had sounded, "But how?"

"Those are means to be determined.", Krymina resolved, the conversation having reached its useful end, "First, we will deal with matters we can affect directly. We will be putting in to spacedock in just under two days-. We will gather information on Breetai and the aliens who now possess Zor's Battle Fortress, and we will refit and resupply. Intelligence on the aliens will allow us an estimate of how long we have to wrest our own continued existence from Darius. We must be patient, but ready to act. An opportunity will present itself."

"Rumor has it that we're going for Breetai-.", Lt. Hyra said without a word from Koso to prompt the remark.

"What?", Moyrt replied simply, puzzled.

Sensing her counterpart's distraction, Hyra stepped toward her opponent aggressively, faking a thrust with the "blade" end of her sparring replica of the khalon spear before withdrawing the thrust in favor of a twirling, upward swipe with the counterbalance butt that caught Moyrt in the gut hard enough to double him over. Hyra stepped through her attack, sweeping Moyrt's legs at the knee out from under him.

As the Serhot Ran officer flattened heavily on the sparring mat to cheers from Hyra's unit and groans of disappointment from his own, Hyra repeated-.

"Word has it that General Krymina is using the Tirolians to hunt down Breetai of the Norghil. But you won't be in on the fight-."

Hyra twirled the khalon in her right hand and tapped Moyrt on the forehead with the padded blade, "-Because you're dead."

"Oh-?", Moyrt grunted. Hyra more than any warrior he'd known was always coming up with underhanded ways of snatching victory from him in the sparring ring. He'd considered from time to time using his superior strength as leverage in such contests, ending them more favorably and less painfully for him. While the thought of simply pulverizing Hyra did have its appeal from time to time, the application of size and strength did in some ways deprive both contestants of the purpose for sparring- the acquisition of skill.

Yet-.

"-And where did you hear this?"

As Hyra stood over him, triumphant, Moyrt spun the shaft of his own sparring khalon to sweep Hyra's legs much as she had done to his.

A roar of amusement rose from Moyrt's unit while it was Hyra's whose turn it was to jeer.

"From others.", Hyra said, slightly winded from the fall, "And you're dead- remember?"

"I'm a quick healer.", Moyrt replied, "Do these others have names?"

"Sure they have names- but they might not want to give me the inside story from the command deck if I were to share them. I trust them, and you trust me, don't you?"

"Only when we're not sparring.", Moyrt confessed, "That would explain why Kevtok has increased our simulator time and worked in a lot more large unit engagements. –I thought Breetai was dead though?"

"Maybe he's a quick healer.", suggested Hyra, rolling onto her side to face Moyrt, head propped on her hand as he continued to lay flat, "What do you suppose she's after?"

"Couldn't say.", Moyrt said honestly, "General Krymina being General Krymina, she could be out for Breetai just to have bragging rights to being the one who bested him. –Aren't you the one with inside contacts?"

Hyra shrugged as much as her positioning would allow, "Just being conversational. It's not often you can carry on a conversation with the deceased."

"I said I was a quick healer.", Moyrt reminded her as Hyra began to lift herself off the mat., "-Not feeling dead in the least."

"No?", Hyra asked as the counterbalance butt of her spear came down soundly on the mat between Koso's legs and snugly against his groin eliciting a deep groan from both her and Moyrt's male warriors that was nearly as convincing as the grunt from Moyrt himself, "How about now?"

"No, not yet-."

Hyra had never known that pain, Moyrt realized, but she did know how to bring it.

"Wait- there it is…."

Pritan Cardun

"Lord, scout and forward guard elements have come out of fold and are securing a spherical perimeter of the Factory.", the communications officer of the flagship announced to General Alzyha who presided over all from the command bubble above.

"Acknowledged.", Alzyha said in reply, then instructed, "Pass the word to our fleet and to General Bohen's command. Order a standard de-fold posturing. Units will commence docking for refit upon securing from fold and in assigned order. General Bohen will instruct her army similarly."

"Yes, Lord.", obeyed the communications officer.

The practice of staggering unit-level spacefold operations to allow for an advanced scouting party to enter an area of operations was actually a precaution without recourse. At best, an advanced guard could only warn the main body of a fleet of dangers and assist the main force in their preparedness to meet the threat. Once initiated, a spacefold was both difficult and dangerous to alter or terminate prematurely. Beside the obvious perils of altering mid-execution the variables of countless complex and inter-related algorithms that could result in vessels attempting to emerge into the same three-dimensional area of space, there were other equally unpredictable possible outcomes. Lore told commanders of fleets who upon discovering that their intended destination area was untenable opted to terminate a fold outside of the design profile had on occasion found their forces scattered hopelessly across light-years of space. These stories, seldom confirmed but often heeded for the pragmatic lesson they taught, often involved Invid taking full advantage of a scattered fleet and decimating it savagely with a systematic hopping of a massive force from one isolated Zentraedi unit or ship to another.

True or not, Alzyha grasped the deeper wisdom of these warrior's parables: sometimes drastic change to a plan in execution was more harmful than meeting an unexpected threat head-on.

Or at least this was what Alzyha took away.

"Defold sequence commencing in one minute."

Alzyha looked to Sub-General Brenik and gave final direction with enough volume to be heard by all. It was clear that he wanted it understood that the instructions were from him:

"Brenik, upon defold advise our units that The Factory is programmed primarily for economy of space and resources, so it is reasonable to assume there will be units docked in proximity to the female forces. I want it understood clearly that the warriors of the 604th are expected to display flawless personal conduct. I will tolerate no disciplinary problems at so tenuous a juncture as this."

"Understood clearly, Lord.", Brenik replied, "Your orders will be heard clearly."

"Defold sequence commencing .", announced the fold operations officer.

Days of transit in and the strains on the ship to generate spacefold were drawing quickly to an end. Certainly there was a quiet but perceivable eagerness among the crew to re-enter the tangible universe and enjoy the rare pleasure of different uniform grey surroundings. The longing to reach a place of refuge seemed to transcend from the beings for whom desires were possible to the machine that carried them though.

Pritan Cardun seemed to show its readiness for its due time in a Factory's refit slip through the elevated hum of all of its systems that had been brought back on-line in anticipation of use. The flicker of displays, the chirp of process completion notifications to technicians, and the general commotion of the command deck could have been interpreted as the vessel's nervous twitches of eagerness- although interpretation of these coincidental occurrences in that way were likely only the projections of the ship's sentient masters.

Destroyer 741

"Fold system confirms profile execution completed.", announced the fold operations officer from his station on the command deck, "The ship is secure from hyperspace."

It had taken the officer charged with executing and monitoring the ship's fold system moments what the transition of the main viewscreen from molted shades of blue to star-dotted black had told Pach instantaneously- but there were procedures to be adhered to. Still, the checks and verification of processes involving nothing less than astounding feats of quantum physics and mechanics did not provide for Pach the solid assurance of seeing the stars yet again. Unfamiliar as their patterns might be, the starfield (while displayed in only two dimensions on the viewscreen) still had a sense of limitless depth to it- boundless space free to be navigated. It stood in stark contrast- polar opposite, really- to the claustrophobic sensation Pach always felt but was never able to articulate while in hyperspace.

"Sensor Control, perform a post-fold scan and verify our station-keeping with the squadron flag..", Sub-Commander Dychi ordered, methodically moving down the checklist set down for bringing a space cruiser back into normal operational mode, "Helm, set main drive for station-keeping and stand by."

"Engines answering station-keeping, Lord. Zero velocity, zero roll, pitch, and yaw."

"Command, Internal Systems Control- all sections reporting and showing constant atmospheric pressure. Pressure hull integrity confirmed nominal."

"Rig all compartments for standard operations.", Commander Pach ordered, issuing the command before Dychi had the opportunity to. To his surprise and mostly because of his reservations about potential hazards of putting in particular to his and Gymalt's commands, Pach felt a strong urge to be done with it.

"Communications, send a docking request to the Factory- let's get into the cue sequence."

"Yes, Lord."

Sub-Commander Dychi gazed onto the starfield captured within the frame of the viewscreen that was now growing cluttered with Zentraedi warships as they emerged from hyperspace. Pach sensed in his executive officer as he looked out on the building cruiser traffic the desire to ask for something that did not fit immediately into the duties at hand and therefore went unasked.

"You've never seen an Automated Factory, have you, Dychi?", Pach asked speculatively probing for the cause of the sub-commander's distraction.

"No, Lord- I have not. I've heard a great deal of course-."

Pach nodded his understanding. The question had been without point as Pach had known quite well that Dychi had been Awakened from the officer stock of a cargo ship and had been transferred to Destroyer 741 with the loss of the previous executive officer. Like all Zentraedi Dychi had come from a Factory facility, but had never actually seen one to give the concept tangible form.

His curiosity was to be expected or at least understood- after all, Pach recalled well his first opportunity to see a Factory.

"Sensor Control, is the Factory within visual range?"

"Yes, Lord."

"Let's see our host for the next several weeks then-. On screen."

The image on the viewscreen transitioned smoothly from a full-forward view to an image whose orientation to the ship was not as clear. It was the object that filled the center of the screen now that was of importance and not so much its position.

The Trendok 145 Robotech Automated Factory dwarfed the Zentraedi warships in the foreground of the live image giving the facility scale. Asteroids as large and larger than the one housing the complex manufacturing plant could be expected to be encountered from time to time in the journeys of a Zentraedi army- but it was the technological marvel within that could be expected to occupy much of the rock-ore body's interior that made the sight awe-inspiring. The face of the otherwise dark and featureless shape on the viewscreen began to distinguish itself with dots of light that were the doors of multiple spacedocks opening to receive the 604th and 417th Grand Armies.

"Humbling, isn't it?", Pach suggested to Dychi, speaking in fact what he had felt upon first seeing an Automated Factory almost a full lifetime ago, "To think that all that sustains you, every piece of equipment or material you've ever touched, and every warrior you have ever known came from something like that. One can begin to understand how The Masters have come to develop such a high opinion of themselves."

"Indeed.", agreed Dychi, spellbound in the way one could be when encountering an entity that could be argued to be equal parts machine and god.

What had occurred to Pach long since his first encounter with a Robotech Automated Factory and what he did not voice for the benefit of Dychi was the realization that these technological, manufacturing juggernauts- thousands in number by rumor- had at best kept a balance of power with the Invid in the war the Zentraedi had waged for generations on The Robotech Masters' behalf. When one contemplated (as Pach had) that it took industry on the scale represented by the Trendok 145 to even hold pace with feats of creation that the Invid accomplished naturally- it begged the question of where true power really resided and to whom final supremacy in the universe would likely fall ultimately.

These were Pach's private thoughts though- ones that Dychi needn't shoulder the burden of in a moment of joyous amazement.

"Command, Communications. The Factory has received our docking request and replied accordingly. We have been vectored for approach into the inner traffic pattern. Factory systems will assume control automatically at the pattern marker."

"Helm, engage main engines at ten percent power and lay in assigned course.", Pach ordered, "Take us in."

As quickly as the 604th Grand Army had materialized in the area of the Trendok 145 Factory, it began to disintegrate from its greater formation. Depending upon the priority assigned to each element of the fleet by General Alzyha's command, vessels fell out of station by unit or individually to converge upon the Factory for approach and docking maneuvers giving the Trendok 145 the appearance from a distance of a bee's nest with the swarm returning home.

Lost to the mass of approaching units (both male and female as the Trendok 145 was unaware of any reason to discriminate and therefore responded equally to their solicitations for service) was Destroyer 741 trailing at a prudent interval Action Commander Gymalt's Destroyer 1017. Either vessel could have easily achieved anonymity in the flow of mostly destroyers save their slight difference in dimensions and appearance from the standard Thuverl Salans as "Lot 500- Heavy" variants.

Known only to their commanders was that they kept each other under close watch for mutual protection from enemies in their own ranks. These complexities of being for both ships were unperceivable to those outside the 4234th Destroyer Squadron, the bulk of which by Gymalt's design would be segregated from his and Pach's vessels until well into the first cycle of docking rotations. To any other commander noticing the rare presence of a vessel variant in the Fleet's midst, consideration would have extended as far as the brief acknowledgment of an oddity and perhaps a moment's musing at how such a blemish to the uniformity of a Zentraedi army had been allowed to continue to exist. Most likely though, with their attention directed toward the needs of their own vessels, other commanders would not even notice.

As directed by the Trendok 145 and ordered by Commander Pach, Destroyer 741 drew nearer to the enormous facility at approach speed, breaking out from the mass formation of vessels eventually to become part of a smaller cluster that still included Gymalt's command. At a point in space identified only by its proximity to the Factory, a conversation began automatically between the Robotech Automated Factory and this particular destroyer as the same interaction occurred with the other vessels around it simultaneously. Destroyer 741 transferred control of its helm to the expertise of the Factory's Hypercomp artificial intelligence that would orchestrate the movements of all the inbound traffic effortlessly until all the vessels of the docking cycle were safely in their slips.

While piloting the ship into a harmonious procession that would climb in number into the hundreds bound for one of the facility's dozens of spacedocks, the Hypercomp queried Destroyer 741's various computer systems. Before the vessel was even in sight of the spacedock channel threshold through which it would pass, Hypercomp was aware of the ship's systemic damage and problems which it would address beginning the moment Destroyer 741 was secured and powered down in its slip. Thorough inspections of the ship's primary and pressure hulls, structure, and critical interior spaces would follow- conducted by the Factory's cadre of automated drones- much of the extent of repairs required were known and provisions to affect them being made before Destroyer 741 had even entered the channel.

Similarly, Hypercomp uploaded the wealth of data accumulated in the ship's sensor, navigational, and tactical logs. Along with the uploaded data from other ships, the information would be collated to form a detailed intelligence picture of the area in which the ships from which the data had come had operated. In some ways, the intelligence gathered in this manner by the Hypercomp of the Trendok 145 and the other Automated Factories was useless at the tactical command level- lacking the crucial quality of real-time relevance. At a strategic level however, in a war whose chapters had been written in decades and whose volumes in centuries- trends in Invid activity emerged and could be used to make predictions against which forces could be deployed.

It was irrelevant to the Hypercomp of the Trendok 145 and unknown to the command structures of the 604th and 417th Grand Armies that there were no longer any interested parties at the strategic level to consume the knowledge and make those decisions. The gathering, collating, and synthesizing process went on regardless.

A congregation of warriors had gathered inside of the inner doors of a hangar bay airlock once the ship had secured from hyperspace and had continued to grow steadily since. As mechanized infantry and their defold post being near to their mecha on the second hangar deck, Hedra, Koso, and Ulstik had been among the first to meet at the broad portal which had afforded them a superior view to those arriving later.

Normally secured, the outer and inner sets of sliding airlock doors now stood open with only the cold-plasma field membrane preventing the vacuum of space from voraciously consuming the atmosphere of the hangar bay and anything not fastened to the deck with a single explosive gulp. Though in violation of strict adherence to procedure, the deck officer had seen fit to overlook the opening of the hangar doors for the same reason that brought the multiplying group of warriors to it- a glimpse of sanctuary.

The first sight of the Trendok 145 Robotech Automated Factory was less than inspiring- appearing to all as little more than a void or a negative space against the luminous flecks of the starfield beyond. As Destroyer 741 drew nearer, the impressions of the unimaginative did not improve significantly- the void taking on the form of an asymmetric, irregular cone stood on its point. An uncommon shape for an asteroid body, it was still remarkable as little more than an asteroid until the ship drew nearer still and warriors were able to see with their own eyes warships similar to their own and others larger in size vanishing into lighted openings in the solid rock face that were too regular and proportioned to be naturally occurring. This was the first indication to the observer unaided by the ship's optical enhancement systems that there was something more to this monolithic body in space and which primed the curiosity to keep the onlookers in place.

The ports of light in turn became clear structures of fabricated metal form as the procession of warships was taken in one at a time bringing Destroyer 741 closer all the while. The square maw, one of at least half a dozen that the warriors at the hangar airlock doors had been given perspective to view, stood open in height and width with sufficient space to take two destroyers in end-to-end in either dimension. Still, the procession proceeded single-file at a deliberate rate and spacing of craft. Not a complaint was uttered among the warriors inside the airlock though as sheer awe at so great a structure had quelled the nervous impatience felt toward putting in and disembarking. For now, all were content to marvel.

"How could such a thing be made?", Warrior Ulstik asked, putting together the most words Koso had ever heard come from him. This was expected of newly Awakened warriors. Possession of vocabulary was a given with a warrior's first breath, but the compulsion to use it outside of a strictly functional sense was a behavior that had to develop at its own rate.

"The same way The Robotech Masters accomplish everything- by Zentraedi sweat and blood.", Lieutenant Hedra said, unafraid to show pride at the contributions made by his race's toil, "Maybe not this Factory, but the very first were built by Zentraedi before we assumed our purest form as warriors."

Ulstik was clearly perplexed by the thought that something so immense could come from the labor of beings so comparatively minute.

Koso, certain that he smelled the wiring within the junior warrior's head beginning to overheat, felt the need to clarify, "Hedra means they excavated the rock and probably had a part in some of the structural work. The Masters had a part too. Don't take anything Hedra has to say too seriously, Ulstik- he'll have you believing that he built this Factory if he can."

"Never!", Hedra protested, "Though perhaps ones much like me-. And you're treading close to fostering insubordination, Sub-Lieutenant."

Hedra's tone was far too jovial and the company was too preoccupied with watching the chip cross the Factory's channel threshold for Koso to respond with any degree of seriousness, "And you're treading close to fostering delusion, Hedra."

"You could be right!", Hedra conceded through his barking laugh.

The sight of open space was lost as the hangar airlock passed the channel threshold in the process of the ship's ingress. A wall of grey metal, the same tone as virtually every interior surface on a Zentraedi warship, now drifted by featureless with the exception of the barely visible seams where the metal panels were joined. Additionally and at regular intervals there were mounted powerful light fixtures that provided the intense, almost glaring illumination within the channel from all sides.

It was just below one of these fixtures that Koso saw an indicator that reminded him of the Factory's role in The Masters' grand scheme and that it had not been created solely as a monument to their own power. The unmistakable iris-hatch closure of a weapon barbette stood out clearly against the otherwise smooth metal wall of the channel. This being spotted, Koso quietly looked for and quickly found other such ports dispersed along the channel wall he was able to see. The warrior rightly reasoned them to be missile batteries intended to prevent an enemy's penetrating the Factory's physical perimeter. By "enemy", of course Koso meant "Invid"- and in that mode of thought the placement of missile batteries along the interior of the spacedock channels was a well-intended yet likely futile measure for defense.

From experience Koso knew well that if the Invid had it of their small minds to attack a target as valued as a Robotech Automated Factory, they would do it in numbers so great that only a force similar to the one now putting in for repairs would have any chance of defending the facility effectively. If the Invid, attacking hypothetically, made a thrust so successful as to breech the channel- then the defense of several score missile launchers was not going to do much more than slow them in assaulting the more sensitive areas beyond. The experience that allowed Koso to vividly imagine this scenario also allowed him to predict with certainty what would follow quickly thereafter. The Factory's defense drones, heavily armed as they were, were still nothing more than programmed robots and could never fight a defensive battle with the fury of a Zentraedi force.

The interior defense batteries were a nice gesture on the part of The Masters though.

As swiftly as it had been taken in, Destroyer 741 was surrendered from the channel passage into the vast chamber of the spacedock. The Robotech Masters were readily capable of designing and fabricating all of the facilities of a Robotech Automated Factory and incorporating them into an entirely artificial form- but the reason for excavating and using asteroids to house these facilities became apparent within the spacedocks. Even the smallest of these harbor niches was capable of berthing scores of even the largest Zentraedi warships and servicing their needs simultaneously while affording the physical shelter from attack provided by a shell of solid rock many kilometers thick.

While no installation or fortification was impervious to attack, with its vital areas nestled deep in the heart of an enormous, cosmic monolith as the Factories were, these ports in the void gave even the most ardent adversaries pause in contemplating an assault.

This spacedock of the Trendok 145 was of moderate size, clearly able to accommodate well over a hundred vessels at a time in the partial or full enclosure docking slips that lined the chamber's inner walls and protruded like spines from a single mooring pillar that spanned from the spacedock floor to its ceiling at the center. Like a gracious host, the Trendok 145 greeted each welcome guest as it entered the dock with the care and hospitality of automated tugs that would lead each warship in the fine dance that would see it secure into one of the rapidly filling slips. Working in unison with the ships' own maneuvering thrusters that were at this point still under Factory control, the tugs provided the additional measure of certainty to pilot the fleet quickly and uneventfully into port.

Destroyer 741 was received under the guidance of half a dozen tugs into a vacant slip alongside ten other destroyers of the mainstream configuration. The external mooring braces had scarcely kissed the vessel's skin and attached at the mooring points before the tugs that had so deftly and gingerly seen the ship into its slot alongside the enclosed port jetty departed unceremoniously to render the same assistance to another.

Power and life-support umbilicals were received mid-decks and amidships automatically as the jetty's gangways found their corresponding hatches.

Within the jetty, neatly assembled companies of automated drones began to file through the gangways and aboard warships as they completed their docking sequences. In each case, the stream of droids going aboard was matched if not surpassed by the quantity of Zentraedi warriors spilling off and into this gateway to the Trendok 145.

All except one.

Destroyer 741 did not surrender any of its complement or crew to the jetty that served two other vessels. The company of robots serving the Factory marched in a unified step through the four connecting gangways with their survey and repair tasks on their electronic minds without the vessel giving back a single warrior in trade.

If the warriors and crew of the two other vessels serviced by the jetty noticed in great number, there was no indication. The drones paid no mind of the anomaly, but rather moved on to work per their programmed nature.

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