Second Chances
Authors Note: My thanks to Cyclone for being such a kick-ass beta/idea sounding board for this chapter. I don't know where I would have been with it without his help so thanks mate.
Chapter Ten
SDF-1
A Few Hours Later
A single glass of traditional Russian vodka sat, the ice slowly melting, on Captain Henry Gloval's desk, the man himself gazing upon it but not really seeing it. All around him, his quarters were dark, the only sources of illumination a desk light and a single bedside lamp, creating a room filled with deep, all pervasive shadows.
It suited his distinctly melancholy mood.
As he sat there, face half in light and half in dark, his mind mulled over what had been revealed to him in the previously hidden part of the ship a few hours ago, trying desperately to understand and come truly to terms with it. Which was harder than it sounded.
Strangely, it wasn't the fact that he'd been faced with a nineteen year old civilian with the memories, experiences, and knowledge of an apparent future version of said young adult that was causing so much mental distress. It wasn't even the fact that Rick Hunter wasn't alone in having his future self's memories; that Lisa, Dr. Lang and some other teenager named Max Sterling also had them that bothered him. While long thought to be a scientific impossibility, he could deal with the fact that they'd time travelled, even if it was in such a bizarre and unique way. One thing he'd learned over the last decade had been never to dismiss anything as impossible; robotechnology had a way of proving you wrong if you weren't careful.
No, it was the vision of the future they'd presented that was causing him so much distress.
To say it was horrific would have been an understatement; "apocalyptic" more readily suited it. To learn of the Rain of Death and its staggering death toll was enough to make him want to scream, to rage at the aliens who would be responsible for such an unthinkable horror… a horror that would happen again unless they could somehow prevent it. It had quickly made him realise just how much responsibility was resting on not just his own shoulders as the SDF-1's master, but on the shoulders of the time travellers, time travellers for whom the Rain of Death wasn't just a horrific possibility but an extremely painful memory. And it was just the first in a series of horrific things that would happen to their race over the next three and a half decades. Thirty five years that, at the end of it, would ultimately see humanity – kicking and screaming the whole way – join the dinosaurs in extinction, their existence snuffed out by a mysterious but highly advanced cybernetic species called the Haydonites.
And the cause of so much suffering, so much pain and death for generations of people both human and alien, was here aboard this ship, sent away by its creator, Zor, who'd grown tired of all the war and suffering the protoculture matrix brought as various races and factions sought to control it – and the zero point energy generation and virtual particle manipulation abilities it allowed, abilities which formed the basis of the science that had so revolutionised life on Earth and brought true peace to the planet for the first time in human history, the science they knew as robotechnology.
He almost found himself wishing they'd never told him… almost. As painful and horrible as that future sounded, him knowing about it, knowing some of the events to come which led to humanity's end, had been important. Only by knowing about that apocalyptic future could he hope to help them change it, and help them he would, with every bit of strength and determination he had.
"Just how to go about doing it?" he mused aloud as he picked up the glass of vodka and took a quick swig of the clear liquid. It wasn't going to be easy, that was for sure. And apparently, events have already changed from the first time around, he thought. Apparently, last time we ended up emerging from hyperspace further in the system, near Pluto. Not all the way out here at the very edge of our sun's domain. Of course, the fact that some things apparently can't be changed, no matter how much we want to, is going to make things even more difficult.
He thought back to that part of their discussion...
"If you knew this was going to happen, why didn't you insist I abort the space fold? You started to, then you backed down," Gloval asked, a confused expression on his face as he didn't understand why Lisa had backed down on the issue of the space fold if she'd known this was going to happen.
"Because it was something that needed to happen," Lisa explained. "One thing we were told before we got… well… sent back was that some events cannot be changed. Are fated to happen, though it's obvious now that the exact outcomes can be changed. For example, we couldn't stop this ship firing the reflex cannon at Breetai's forces; the battle for Macross Island was always going to happen. A battle that had to end with the hyperspace fold. If it hadn't…"
"…the outcome could have been far worse," Rick finished for her. "The force of battlepods that attacked Macross Island were the Zentraedi idea of a recon in force. Eventually they would have withdrawn, but only long enough for more landing ships to bring down additional forces."
"Bozhe moi," Gloval breathed. Their forces on Macross Island had been stretched to the limit just repelling the first attack; to learn that had just been the Zentraedi's idea of a recon force? He shuddered to think how they would have challenged let alone repelled whatever the giants considered a full scale assault force. He saw now why Lisa hadn't stopped him, why the space fold had to take place. It had been the only way to prevent this ship, and especially the protoculture matrix, from falling into the aliens' giant hands.
"The protoculture matrix," he breathed as he shook off the memory.
That one alien device that they'd shown him was definitely the key to all of this. Maybe we need to destroy it and show that it has been destroyed, he thought. After all, no matrix means there is no reason to continue attacking us. Yes, losing this protoculture fuel would be a setback for our spacefaring ambitions, but I'm sure, unlike those who've been dependent on it for eons, we'd soon come up with something that would let us power a hyperspace fold system. Yes, destroying the matrix might be our best course of action.
He made a mental note to have a word with Lisa and Dr. Lang about it the morning – and possibly young Mr Hunter as well – to see what they thought about it, whether it would work or if they had to figure out some other solution to the rather large conundrum facing them.
Decision made, he quickly downed the last of his vodka before standing up and switching off the desk light. It was time to get ready for bed as, whatever else happened, whatever Lisa and the others said, he was sure tomorrow was going to be a big day.
Refugee Holding Area
A Few Minutes Later
Lynn Minmei was lost in thought as she sat, a blanket draped over her shoulders, in the waiting area of the cargo hold that had been hurriedly converted into temporary housing for the Macross City refugees. Since she'd been brought aboard in the back seat of that transforming fighter – she couldn't remember what it was called off the top of her head – she'd been doing a lot of thinking and reflecting on the events that had led her here. There had been little else to do, as while some magazines and books had appeared over the last day – brought from the ship's recreational facilities by the crew – she didn't really feel like reading right now.
With nothing else to do other than worry about her aunt, uncle, and the younger of her two cousins in the island-turned-asteroid's emergency shelters, she'd gone over the events of the last few days again and again in her head. And she could only come to the same conclusion that she'd come to during the orbital bombardment, that she'd been a fool to return to the city after the evacuation order was issued. The fact that she'd nearly died – would have died if those two hunky young guys hadn't stuck their necks out to save her – only reinforced it.
Am I bad person? she thought, not for the first time over the last day. She couldn't help but think that she was, going back for her diary – or rather the letter hidden inside it – when the whole island had been under attack. She hadn't even considered the danger at the time, nor the worry her suddenly running off would inflict upon her aunt and uncle. Looking at her actions in hindsight, she realised that they'd been more than foolish; they'd been selfish and inconsiderate, the actions of a child and not the young woman she was supposed to be becoming.
She couldn't help but feel ashamed of herself. Ashamed and determined to do something about it, though she didn't yet know what that something was going to be.
"Is there a Miss Lynn here?" an authoritative male voice called, jolting her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see a man in an RDF uniform scanning the aisles, a computer tablet held in one hand.
"Yes, that's me," she called out, raising a hand so he'd see her more easily among the throng of refugees. The officer's eyes immediately locked onto her and within a few seconds he was standing in front of her.
"Miss Lynn would you mind coming with me, please?" he said.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, hoping she wasn't in trouble for her actions during the attack, as she would have thought the SDF-1's crew would have more pressing issues to deal with than her stupidity.
"No, ma'am, there's nothing wrong," the officer replied with a reassuring smile. "But I need to ask you to come with me."
"All right," she agreed, slightly suspicious about where this was going but willing to trust at least for now. She stood up slowly, carefully holding the blanket so it wouldn't slip off her shoulders, as the converted cargo bay wasn't exactly the warmest of places, especially since she was still wearing the clothes she'd been wearing before the attack began. Clothes which were more suited to the tropical heat and humidity of a South Pacific island, not the cargo hold of a giant spaceship.
"This way, please," the officer said with a smile before beginning to lead her through the throng. Minmei followed carefully, making sure to keep the officer in sight as she'd already learned it was quite easy to get lost in the sea of humanity filling the different parts of the bay.
After a few moments, they came to one of the assembled walls of cargo containers that divided the bay up into distinct areas. The officer leading her through a gate set up between two areas, nodding at another soldier manning a checkpoint as he did so, Minmei eyed him warily before continuing to follow the first man.
They had come into a larger area of the bay, an area that had been set up as a makeshift city, made of a mixture of opened cargo containers, metal sheeting, and canvas from the shelters' emergency supplies. Families huddled together near makeshift sleeping quarters, many looking shell-shocked at their current circumstances. It was understandable, as in a mere forty-eight hours, they'd gone from being the denizens of the newest and possibly most technologically advanced city on Earth to refugees stranded in the dark depths of space. The homes and lives that they'd known currently imprisoned in the icy asteroid that Macross had become.
Minmei continued to follow the RDF officer as he led her down the main street of the makeshift camp. Eventually, they turned off the street and came upon one of the tent/cargo pod structures serving as temporary housing. Three people were sitting on metal chairs around a small heating unit, keeping warm in the somewhat chilly bay, three very familiar people one of whom – the smallest – had just noticed her.
"Minmei, Minmei!" Jason screamed in delight, the four-year-old leaping to his feet and racing towards her as fast as his little legs could carry him. Behind him, she could see Aunt Lena and Uncle Max getting to their feet as well, their own faces lighting up in a combination of joy and relief at seeing her alive and apparently unhurt.
"Oh, Jason," Minmei said, her voice choking slightly with emotion as she squatted down and caught the little boy, pulling him into a desperate hug and feeling her eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. She'd been so worried about him, knowing the mischief and situations Jason regularly got himself into, that she was relieved beyond words that he was safe.
I really need to start setting a better example for him, she thought, knowing she was little different from Jason in running into dangerous situations without thought of the risks. While the concept that something could be dangerous or life threatening was an alien one to a four-year-old, it wasn't to her. She was fifteen and should know better. As she released Jason, she silently vowed to herself to do better, to act more responsible, like an older sister – which she knew was kind of how Jason viewed her as he'd only been a few months old when she'd first come to Macross Island – should.
Getting back to her feet, she cautiously approached Uncle Max and Aunt Lena, knowing they were likely very mad at her for running off like that. She mentally braced herself for a scolding that was all too deserved.
It never came.
Instead, with a cry of pure relief, Aunt Lena pulled her into her arms. "Oh, Minmei, we were so worried about you," she heard Aunt Lena say as she felt Uncle Max's arms wrap around her from behind. A second later, she felt a much smaller pair of arms wrap around her legs as Jason joined the group hug.
The tears came. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Minmei sobbed into her aunt's dress. "I shouldn't have done that. I should have listened to you."
"It doesn't matter now," Lena replied kindly. "Yes, you were foolish, but that doesn't matter now. All that matters is you're alive, and you're safe."
Minmei nodded slightly but continued to sob into her aunt's chest, all the fear, anguish, and guilt she'd felt over the last forty-eight hours refusing to stay buried anymore. The other members of her family seemed to all sense it and just continued to hold her, letting her cry out her own reaction to the events that had overtaken all of them.
Standing nearby, Marine Second Lieutenant Steven Warrick smiled at the joyous and tearful reunion. Another family successfully reunited, he thought as he made a note on his tablet confirming the successful reunification of the Lynns. Since he had been assigned to this detail, he'd seen similar scenes from dozens of families separated in the chaos of the alien attack on Macross Island.
It never failed to give him a warm feeling inside, a feeling that he'd accomplished something truly meaningful, giving at least some of the shocked and traumatised survivors of Macross Island some of their hope back. And in so doing, giving himself and the rest of the crew some hope as well, hope that they all needed.
Still smiling, he turned and walked away. He had other families to reunite.
Observation Deck Four
That Same Time
Roy Fokker slipped with an easy grace, one that belied his height and size, onto one of the handful of observation decks dotted around the perimeter of the SDF-1. Most of the observation decks were used as part of the crew facilities as mess halls and rest areas where the crew could enjoy meals and drinks – regretfully, non-alcoholic – while gazing out upon space. But not this one; this deck – located aft of the bridge superstructure, looking out over the ship's engines and aft dorsal weapons – was little more than a small lounge, one quiet and out of the way of the hustle and bustle that the other decks usually were.
Thus, it was a good place to collect one's thoughts, something he really needed to do after everything he'd heard – everything they'd been told – today.
He blinked in surprise when he noticed that he wasn't alone in seeking out this place to think. A solitary male figure was already present. He was standing by the viewports, gazing out upon the sea of stars, seemingly lost in thought, a very familiar male figure dressed in civilian clothing though his body posture – somewhat amusingly – made it look as close to a military uniform as civilian clothes could. A figure who seemed completely unaware of his presence.
A faint smirk appeared on his face at the sudden opportunity to get a little bit of payback on his little brother for yet another in a series of mind screws presented itself. Like a predator stalking its prey, he cautiously approached the seemingly still oblivious Rick. He was about to launch into a tackle that would knock the much smaller man over for a perfect tickle attack when Rick spoke.
"Don't even think about it, Roy," he said.
"Damn, how did you know it was me, little brother?" Roy asked, inwardly cursing up a storm at being denied a chance for a little payback.
Rick turned to him with a faint smirk. "I noticed you come in," he said. "After all you told me years ago 'a pilot must always be aware of his environment'."
"Of all the things I've told you over the years, you would have to remember that one, wouldn't ya?" Roy answered with a sigh. Rick merely smiled back, a smile tinged with a strange, melancholy air, before turning to look back out the viewport. Roy frowned worriedly; something was clearly bothering Rick, as it wasn't like him to be this quiet. Every instinct in him said something was bothering Rick, and bothering him a lot.
"What's the matter, Rick?" he asked softly, the protective older brother in him coming to the fore.
"Nothing."
"Don't give me that, kiddo. You may have been an admiral thirty-five years from now, but I can tell something's bothering you," Roy said firmly. "So what is it? Are you worried about the Zentraedi finding us before we finish salvaging what we can from the asteroid that used to be Macross Island?"
"They won't find us for a while," Rick replied confidently; at the certainty in his voice, Roy gave him a look inviting an explanation. "Following a ship through hyperspace is hard enough at the best of times; space folding in a gravity well just makes it even harder, given your entry and exit vectors get scrambled," Rick explained. "So there is little danger right now of them showing up."
"Oh. So what's bothering you then?"
Rick sighed softly, turning to look back out at space just in time to see a flight of Valkyries shoot past. The sight of them brought a slight, wistful smile to his face, as they reminded him of a simpler time in his life. A time when he didn't have so much responsibility resting on his currently not so broad shoulders. A time when his only concerns were surviving his next mission and keeping as many of his squadron mates alive as possible while sending the Zentraedi packing with combat boot printed backsides.
A time that had somewhat come again, as they were, once more, at war with the Zentraedi.
This war could so easily end the same way it had the first time around, with the deaths of billions and the virtual annihilation of Earth's industrial infrastructure, both of which he would like to preserve as much as possible, as not only would it make opposing the Haydonites a heck of a lot easier, but he wasn't sure he could stand seeing the Rain of Death happen again – especially if it occurred on the same apocalyptic scale as the last time. The question was how could he – how could they – do it? For the first time it was really dawning on him just what he'd agreed to do, the tremendous burden that he'd taken on when he'd met the angel version of Roy in that white void after the SDF-3's destruction.
"Can I – can we – really do this?" he asked softly.
"Do what?" Roy asked.
"Prevent the Rain of Death, or at the very least reduce the severity of the bombardment so more infrastructure and more importantly more innocents are spared."
"I don't know, Rick," Roy admitted softly, putting a hand on his adoptive younger sibling's shoulder and turning the smaller man to face him. He couldn't help but be a little shocked by what he saw in Rick's eyes, a weariness that was both deep and profound. Gone was the confident, commanding persona of Admiral Hunter, replaced with that of just a man who had seen far more death and destruction than anyone should ever have to see. Sympathy stirred within him as for the first time, he really began to see and understand the immense burden of knowledge and experience that Rick was carrying. How can he bear it? I don't know if I would be able to if I knew even half of what he knows about the future, especially a future so nightmarish, he thought. Still best try to cheer him up.
"But we do have an advantage that we didn't have last time," he added trying to reassure him. "You, Lisa, and the others. You know what the Zentraedi can do; you know their tactics and the capabilities of their craft. That's a big advantage there, bro."
Rick acknowledged that with a nod. "But is it enough?" he asked rhetorically, before sighing softly again. "I suppose it will have to be, though I do know one thing, Roy."
"And that is?"
"That the Zentraedi are far, far too powerful a force for us to take head on. We can win individual battles, especially given the Zentraedi have orders, direct from the Robotech Masters themselves, to recover this ship – and the protoculture matrix – intact. But the war itself cannot be won… not if we fight it like any other war in our history, which is what we did for the most part the last time around. We need to use different tactics this time."
"What kind of tactics?"
"I haven't entirely worked that out yet," Rick admitted, "though we do need to exploit what is both the Zentraedi's greatest strength and their greatest weakness. The Zentraedi are engineered for war; it is what they were literally created for and what they excel at, but as a result, they have no real culture of their own. No art, no music, nothing like that. They don't even know the joy of flying just for the sheer love of it. The only thing they know is how to do is fight."
"Sheesh, that sounds like a very…depressing existence to me."
"It is. The Zentraedi exist, but they don't live, not really, as they have no understanding that there is so much more to life than war. On a subconscious level, they know this."
"So how do we use that against them?"
"Carefully," Rick replied. "We need to slowly start exposing them to our culture as it will resonate very strongly with them. But we have to be careful about it, as if we undermine the fleet that's here too quickly, then Dolza will learn about it and show up with one of the Imperial Fleets or all of them – then the Rain of Death would begin all over again."
"Who's Dolza?" Roy asked, inwardly shivering at the mention of the Rain of Death. Even just hearing about it made him want to rage at the Zentraedi in the original timeline who were responsible for the genocide of more than three-quarters of the human race. He could only imagine how horrible it had been for Rick, Lisa, and the others who'd actually been there, actually seen the reflex beams scorching the surface of the Earth until it was almost completely cleansed of life. He could definitely understand why Rick would be determined to prevent that unspeakable horror from befalling their people – again.
"Dolza is the Supreme Commander of the entire Zentraedi Armada; he answers to no one other than the Robotech Masters themselves, and even that's a reluctant obedience. Dolza likes to style himself as an emperor, and from what I know of him, he wants the matrix on this ship for himself, so he can break the chains of slavery that bind the Zentraedi to the Tirolians, especially the Masters, and build their own empire."
"Does everyone want that thing?"
"Just about."
"Maybe we should destroy the thing then."
Rick shook his head. "That wouldn't be a good idea, Roy," he answered. "Doing that would only guarantee our extinction at the hands of the Robotech Masters. They'd bomb us into oblivion in retribution."
"So we're basically stuck between a rock and a hard place?"
"Pretty much."
"Crap."
"My thoughts exactly, Roy."
Roy sighed softly and turned to look out the viewport, fully understanding why Rick had been brooding so much when he came in. Rick joined him, both brothers gazing out upon the stars but not really seeing them. Both lost in the thoughts of the hand that fate had dealt them.
And just how they were going to survive it.
