No Suprises

a Superdimensional Fortress Macross songfic based on

the song No Suprises by Radiohead. :)

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( a heart that's full up like a landfill. )

( a job that slowly kills you. )

( bruises that won't heal. )

( you look so tired n' happy. )

( bring down the government. )

( they don't, they don't speak for us. )

Terror and fear are closely the same thing. Both signal one to stop in midaction and reconsider his or her next moves. Both chill the spine, chill the heart, chill the mind and leaves you to be dumbfounded. Overcoming both the terror and fear of an atmosphere unknown takes time. Time to think and deny. But as they were both founded underneath one another fear had a rather steep disadvantage to be forgotten and braved. Each pilot needed that disadvantage to hold on to dear life midst a fury of rounding shots inches from the searing heat of the hull of their Veritech. For if you let that deffect crawl onto you, you surely won't forget, and you would see how the dogfights fought would have you as the victor. The winner.

Both Human and Zentraedi troops labored through that blood-smothered battle. Faint com sounds would hang in static over a wingman's speakers, commenting on a lost man, and as the others hung their heads in a silent prayer they would continue to live for not only themselves, but for each and evey soldier, lives taken and kept. Shots of missiles would fly pass a mecha so fast in the spacious vacuum of space that the cries of the dying wouldn't be heard in the blossoming explosions around a cluster of enemy Zentraedi Battlepods.

There were several pods that lost all life in the heat of battle, knowing their end was soon, and as the magnificent metaled fists of the Robotech Defense Force Battloids drew back and hurled forward as if it were part of the living being inside, the alien pilots cut their breath short in a last array of plasma shots as the steel-plated digits thrusted into their hull of armor plating, crippling it it until it bursted in a satifying painting of fire and light.

Many of the enemy pods accelerated to safety, out of range of some of Earth's ace pilots and rounded about to pick out some of the soft ones. They were caught in action, and were aimed by more than one Veritech and were slugged down by the armor-piercing capabilities. New tanks of ammo were being switched through the heavy storm of fire, the gattling cannon using the bullets at an amazing rate as the large anthropomorphic hands of many VTs transerred new packs of rounds from integral reserve modules found beneath the thigh.

( i'll take the quiet life. a handshake. some carbon monoxide. )

( no alarms and no suprises, no alarms and no suprises. )

( silent. silent. )

( this is my final fit. my final bellyache. )

( no alarms and no suprises. no alarms and no suprises. )

( no alarms and no suprises please. )

Reloading took not but a minute or so, but in the middle of a shower, it seemed forever to start fresh. Pods would take fancy them, like one Veritech was doing so, and the empty fighter had to abondon his post as the deck exploded from the attack. Hitting his mecha's foot thrusters, he dodged their aim in the nick of time, yet still empty, hand-tohand combat was the only choice. All around the spotted canvas of space were Veritechs in similiar close-hand fighting.

They were quick, as one pilot found out, the skrawny leg of one pod found itself shoving into the gut of the VT, sending is flying backwards. Backburners were hit to recoil and rethink what just happened as the dazed pilot rolled to the side from another attack. Another fussilade took the Veritech down once more, and as it rose back up, reloading was done.

Airspeed wasn't necessary in the airlessness of space. Pilots thought it as atmospheric flying though, training done on Earth, not in the endless vacuum even the smallest child knew was to be silent and deadly. Through Robotechnology though, each Veritech was able to do so through the black matter... it took up mouthfuls of energy... though, each Veritech had a rather large supply of just that in ther reaction drives so they flew like that. Darting like midsummer fireflies through the air, mimicking battlepods following after, Earth's Veritechs knew how it was to be done.

The Battlepods seemed to decrease in numbers... the Zentraedi flagship ceased dispension of the rest of the armada as it recalled its last ships back home for later retaliation. There was a call over the com net in the rejoicing Veritechs, an order by Captain, to return back to the ship and await further instructions. It was another victory, yet another loss. One by one, the last of the dispatched Veritech teams soared in the airless enviroment to land safely back inside the monsterous bohemoth of a ship, the SuperDimensional Fortress 1, and back home to loving friends and family in the heart of the floating battleship: Macross.

( such a pretty house. such a pretty garden. )

( no alarms and no suprises. no alarms and no suprises. )

( no alarms and no suprises please. )

The battles today were won. The war tomorrow is yet, just a dream.