ÒEverytime I think of you, I always catch my breath. And IÕm still standing here, and youÕre miles away, and I wonder why you left.Ó - ÒMissing YouÓ by John Waite

By special permission, Kyle managed to find himself on the flight deck of what used to be Daedalus 1. Now, the proverbial arm of the SDF-1 was stretched over the churning Pacific, as though begging for alms.
The battle fortress itself had sank deeper into the Pacific over the past week, the blue waters feverishly licking against the SDF-1Õs torso. Experts had repeated assurances to Admiral Gloval that the SDF-1 was not at any more risk of sinking; its massive weight only compressed the plyable ocean floor, causing the SDF-1 to settle. Kyle heard that Gloval was using the sinking SDF-1 as a trump card, an excuse to lift off from its ocean perch and find home on dry land.
Much had occurred over the past week as well besides a ship succombing to aquatic quicksand. To the shock of the inhabitants of SDF-1, most people on Earth were led to believe that Macross Island was the casualty of an experiment gone awry. The result: All of the citizens on Macross Island were killed, and the SDF-1 lost, in a failed fold experiment.
Perhaps more incredibly, knowledge of the Zentradi was limited to highly placed government officials, and the rest of the world never knew it was essentially involved in an interstellar war.
Needless to say, Earth was having a difficult time absorbing the news. While the media railed against the Unified Earth Government for covering up the truth (even though officials adamantly insisted that was what they believed had happened), the press and the public were clawing for any bit of news and information about EarthÕs new malicious alien hunters. Perhaps that was why most states and cities banned the SDF-1 from docking in their ports.
Kyle leaned against the scarred hull of the ship, waiting patiently as a blurred dot on the horizon casually flew toward Daedalus 1, the plane that carried the negotiator contingent of the United Nations, and more precisely, Maria de Suanika, or Newmann or whoever she was now. The thought darkened his mood again, even though he vowed to not bring up her marriage until much later, giving her time to grieve for her parents. Kyle stayed back from the rest of the group, a collection of high ranking SDF-1 personnel, including a rather cold, professional-as-iron, Commander Lisa Hayes.
Kyle never met her in person before this day, but there was nothing about her demenor or her looks that surprised him. She was everything the calculating, commanding voice over Veritech comm channels led him to believe. Pretty, in the way that a young girl wearing drab clothes every Sunday at church looks. But Commander Hayes was void of emotion, her stance rigid and her lips thin and tight despite her soft cheeks. Kyle couldnÕt blame her though. She sent pilots to their deaths almost every day in space, commanding squadrons to tackle maneuvers that were about as close to suicide as lighting a stick of dynomite in the cockpit would be. Many pilots still held her responsible for both the Saturn engagement, where some fighters were obliterated or severly damaged just trying to negotiate the asteroid rings, and for the Mars Base ambush. Hayes had to be rescued by another pilot, Vermillion Squadron hot shot Rick Hunter, after she refused to retreat.
Kyle pushed off the metal wall and shuffled beside Hayes.
ÒCommander, may I bother you a moment?Ó he said, keeping his voice low and tentative.
ÒAirman Denver, what is it?Ó she said, her eyes locking onto him. Her attention caught him off guard and nervous for a moment.
ÒMaÕam, I was wondering how you want me to approach Ms. Newmann,Ó he said.
ÒYou mean, missis, right?Ó Hayes began, studying Kyle for a moment with a question of confusion.
ÒYes maÕam. IÕm sorry.Ó
Some of the others, including an attractive black lady who seemed for than a little amused at KyleÕs attempts at talking to Lisa Hayes, began to stir uncomfortably at the duoÕs exchange.
ÒI just wanted to know if I had permission to approach her first.Ó
ÒNo, sir. You will only acknowledge her once we introduce you to the group,Ó Hayes said curtly.
ÒMaÕam, no disrespect. But she probably thinks IÕm dead, so IÕm guessing Mrs. Newmann will react to my presence.Ó
Hayes now fully turned to face Kyle, causing the Airman to sink back into the shoulder of another person.
ÒWhat do you suggest then, Airman Denver?Ó
ÒIf I may, Commander Hayes,Ó the black girl interrupted, her face a portrait of humor. ÒYou canÕt blame the boy for being worried. Men arenÕt responsible for a womenÕs emotional reaction, now are they Commander?Ó
Hayes looked away a moment toward the horizon, the tension flowing out of her like steam.
ÒNo. No, I suppose youÕre right Claudia,Ó she said, turning to Kyle. ÒYou just do what you think is the most appropriate, and makes the Robotech Defence Force look respectable in every way.Ó
ÒYes maÕam. You donÕt have to worry about me,Ó Kyle stammered and retreated to the back of the group, more than happy to be out of HayesÕ range of fire.
Two VeritechÕs roared past SDF-1Õs upturned pillars, their escorting job finished as a Protoculture-rigged Ospry angled toward Daedalus. The wings upturned, and its prop jets allowed the plane to hover than nest gently on the scarred face of Daedalus 1. Immediately, a crew of Robotech personnel swarmed the plane, latching it to the ship and running a portable staircase to the airhatch. In minutes, the doors opened and a gaggle of United Nations staffers emerged from the Ospry.
Kyle paused as Commander Hayes and other Robotech personnel moved towards the oncoming group. Suddenly, Kyle felt a hand brush against his lower back, and gentle pressure prodding him forward. He turned, somewhat surprised to see the lady named Claudia winking at him.
ÒCome on, fly boy. You have someone special to see,Ó she whispered.
Commander Hayes spearheaded the meeting of the group. From KyleÕs vantage, behind others from SDFÕs command crew, he couldnÕt spy Maria. He tried. Two men, both smiling diplomatically, politely, flanking either side of Hayes and shaking hands. And one other person, blocked from his view by Commander Hayes.
Kyle peered around her shoulders and saw .... her. He thought. Maria de Suanika.
It was her.
Two years may have changed some of the more specific features of Maria: Her hair was cropped short, tight against her scalp and trimmed neatly underneath a dark blue felt beret with the symbol of the United Earth Government embroided on its face; her face was somewhat narrower, thinner, as though she lost much of that youthful lushness; and perhaps she had grown a fraction taller.
What hadnÕt changed, and perhaps would never, were those eyes. The intensity of her dark globes, the ones that have always uneased him when they speared into his eyes Ñ Kyle would never forget those. MariaÕs eyes were the still the same, and Kyle skipped a breath just staring at them, the light of the sun reflected a two pinpoints of stars against the midnight backdrop of her irises. Maria was completely focused on Commander Hayes, professional and diplomatic as the two exchanged greetings and well wishing.
Then, as the group began to move toward the hull of the SDF-1, MariaÕs eyes spied Kyle. And she stopped. It was as though the atmosphere around the ship suddenly went electric. MariaÕs eyes clouded, her lips opened, and what color had flushed her cheeks earlier peeled away. It was as if Maria was gazing upon a ghost.
ÒHello, Maria,Ó was all Kyle managed to say. But it was enough to draw the attention of the rest of the group.
ÒKyle, I....Ó she began, slowly and broken, her voice teetering on emotion. ÒI thought you were dead.Ó
ÒMrs. Newmann, Airman Kyle Denmark made a special request to be here this afternoon,Ó Claudia started, approaching the duo. The sound of her new last name sent a chill through Kyle.
ÒI understand he was a friend of yours. We thought it would be good for you to see a familiar face, especially one who you believed perished,Ó Claudia said.
Maria blinked, and forced herself to look to Claudia with a mixture of amazement and vieled emotions. She was struggling to keep composure, Kyle could tell. But he wanted her to burst out, to break down. He wanted her rushing to his arms, folding him in kisses. Swearing that theyÕd be together again.
Foolish thoughts are those that come from the heart, Kyle heard echoed in his head.
Maria straightened, her face fanning into a professional, polite smile. KyleÕs heart deepened in a growing anger that threatened to lash out. But he held firm. Maria was being professional.
ÒKyle. IÕm very pleased to see you again,Ó she said. ÒWeÕre pleased to hear that in fact the citizens of Macross Island are also infact survivors. Our government believed differently.Ó
ÒYou mean lied,Ó Kyle said coldly.
ÒAirman, you will apologize for that remark,Ó Lisa Hayes said sharply after a moment of stunned silence.
ÒI am sorry, Mrs. Newmann. But my presence here is unfortunately not all about a reunion,Ó Kyle said. He was fitting into the diplomatic mold perfectly. He just had to darken his heart.
Maria accompanied Kyle into a private meeting room near the bridge of the SDF-1. Their travel up to the deck was filled with shielded glances at each other, an uncomfortable silence as Lisa Hayes narrated a history of events faced by the SDF-1 and its crew for the past two years.
Kyle found himself softening to her again every time he glanced at her face. Her beauty. Memories buyoed to the surface, her legs around his waist as passion overtook them in bed, her lips on his neck, dancing at an discoteque. So much history etched in the concrete slabs of his memory for their six-month affair. They were all he had to reflect on in the deep pitch of space. They were what gave him a bud of hope for the future if and when he returned to earth.
Dreams were now dashed. But Kyle Denver felt guilty for acting like some infatuous teenage fool. Why should he have ever expected Maria to wait for him, especially after two years. And especially since everyone on Earth thought the residents of Macross Island were long gone. Including her parents. Already, Kyle was struggling to come up with words to say, enacting a speech in his mind, the best way to soften the news of her parentÕs death.
Kyle and Maria were escorted separately from the group into a small snack room decked out in a plain kitchen table, stove, sink and a small coffee maker. Maria closed the door behind she and Kyle, letting her eyes soften somewhat as they laid on him. Kyle was struck with both an overpowering sense of heartache, and a cold surge of stage fright. He had no idea how he would tell Maria about her parents.
She never gave him the opportunity.
ÒYouÕre not here to just see me, are you?Ó she asked tenatatively.
Kyle shook his head, still trying to sum up the words.
ÒItÕs about my parents.Ó It was a statement. Nothing more. Maria moved to a chair, her hands tensing on the plastic back. But her eyes remained unmoving on Kyle.
ÒIÕm sorry. I wanted to tell you personally,Ó Kyle said. ÒThey died a few months ago. There was an accident during a reconfiguration exercise.Ó
ÒWhat happened?Ó Maria said. Kyle met her gaze, examining MariaÕs features for signs of something. She belied little emotion other than the features of one who is stuffing pain deep into those recesses that get brushed under the rug of memories. She certainly didnÕt seem like one about to break down over the news. The months of diplomatic training have paid off with a solid poker face, Kyle thought.
Kyle recounted how their apartment building collapsed suddenly just a few months ago, how it was a tragic accident unrelated to the SDFÕs battles. Through it all, Kyle felt his face flush, his skin buzz, knowing his words seemed so shallow, so diplomatic that is bordered on sickening.
She looked away finally, her eyes glazing over only slightly, her lips pursing.
ÒI grew very close to them, Maria. Your folks were wonderful people, always positive, uplifting. I spent Christmas with them, and was often over at their place for dinner,Ó Kyle said. Maria continued to look away, gazing at the blank walls beyond him.
Kyle pulled a disk from a pocket on his flight jacket sleeve, a small digital disk. He handed it to Maria wordlessly who looked upon the disk with a pained expression.
ÒThatÕs a collection of home movies I made during our holiday together. ThereÕs some messages for you on it; they promised me that I would give it to you if something happened to them.Ó
ÒAnd here it is,Ó Maria said, a hint of her Spanish accent falling through.
They remained facing each other in silence until Kyle finally moved to her, his hand brushing her shoulder. Maria recoiled, scooting toward the door while straightening out her gray suit jacket.
ÒThank you, Kyle, for being there for my mom and dad,Ó Maria said, her voice noticably cracking under the well of emotions. Kyle wanted to embrace her, wanted to let her break down on him. But this Maria ÑÊMaria Newmann Ñ seemed to want no such comfort.
She opened the door and left without another word, leaving Kyle in the kind of silence that screams with all the words left unsaid.