Chapter Nine: Our Man Reevan, Part One
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That night, a large object entered the atmosphere of Sweetwater. It timed its planetfall perfectly, arriving in between radar sweeps and landing out in the middle of the desert region. It was huge, but since it was so far from any settlements or bases, nobody even knew it was there. Hatches opened on the sides of the craft, and from one, a lone man walked out from it. He surveyed the dark landscape, and said:

"Good Lord! It's bloody chilly out here! What the hell was I thinking!?" He quickly hurried back inside. Shortly afterwards, several humanoid objects came out of the hatches. Once they were all deployed, the large craft returned to the sky…

The next day, Tommy and John were sitting through yet another mission briefing courtesy of Commander Ironsides.

"Gentlemen, our radar systems picked up a large dropship-sized craft exiting the atmosphere late last night. It was so high up by the time we caught it that we can only extrapolate the general area it landed in. The origin of liftoff seems to be somewhere in the southern desert. Exactly where is what you're going to determine. The entire squadron will patrol this area and search for signs of a recent landing. If you spot anything, report on it immediately. Also, your new VF-11 fighters will be equipped with medium-range high-maneuverability missiles for this mission. They should be useful if a fight breaks out. Questions? All right. You take off in three hours. Dismissed."

Meanwhile, back in the desert…

The man was obviously a Zentraedi…well, a partial Zentraedi, anyway. No full Zentraedi spoke with his thick British accent. He was holding a portable communications unit in his right hand, and making wild gestures with his free hand.

"Sir, I mean no disrespect, but…are you honestly telling me these blokes are the best you could send me?! I'm a warrior, not some bloody babysitter!"

"Just concentrate on your duties, Reevan. Take that Glaug of yours and kick the living hell out of those U.N. Spacy idiots!" The transmission was cut.

"I should kick the living hell out of you…stupid git…and it's a Neo Glaug…!" grumbled Reevan under his breath. He had a habit of complaining about things. Indeed, perhaps the only reason he was tolerated at all was his excellence as a pilot. Reevan put away the communicator and turned to face his men. Actually, it would be more accurate to say men and machines. A line of various types of variable fighters, all in Soldier mode, stood alongside several Zentraedi in tactical life support suits. Most of the fighters were VF-4 Lightning III fighters, but some were old VF-1X-Pluses and there were even a few VF-11B Thunderbolts in the group. All of them were in the same black-and-steel gray coloring scheme. Reevan looked them over with a deliberately haughty look.

"…Well, well, well. This is quite possibly the single most sorry group I have seen in my life! Look at you people! My God…! You look like a bunch of bloody schoolchildren!" Another of Reevan's less-than-enjoyable qualities was the fact that his voice rose in pitch when he got angry or excited. Most of the Zentraedi were already cringing at this point. "You! Stand up straight, you silly sod! I will not have slouches in my group! And you in that Thunderbolt! You're behind the line! Scoot up, for God's sake!"

"God, he doesn't have to be so darn prissy!" whispered one of the Zentraedi to the one to his right.

Reevan immediately looked up. "Who said that? I said, who said that!?" He marched up to the very Zentraedi who made the comment. "What did you call me?!"

The kid sweatdropped. "N-nothing, sir…!"

"Oh, pull the other one! I heard you loud and clear! As punishment, you will do 50 pushups. Go! NOW!"

"Uh…yes, sir!"

"UP! DOWN! UP! DOWN…!"

Back at the base, Blue Flight had just taken off.

"Okay, everybody," said John. "We've got the southeastern zone. Keep your radars on max scan, and look everywhere you can. We've got to find out if we've got any unwanted visitors."

"Roger that."

"Understood."

"Check."

The Thunderbolts flew towards the southeast, into the desert regions…

Meanwhile, Reevan's group of ragtags was finally moving out. Reevan's customized Neo Glaug was standing out in front of a force of Renegade armors, old Regult battle pods, and variable fighters.

"All right, I want the VF units to spread out and set up a defensive line for us. The ground units will scan for that base. When we've determined its location, we'll plan an attack. Then…we'll fry those bloody idiots!"

"Yes, sir…" came the whiny response from the whole group.

"What was that…!?"

"YES, SIR!!!!!!!"

"Very good, men."

It took a couple of hours, but eventually Blue Flight found what they were looking for.

"Hey, John! Check out your left side! There's a really big burn mark on the deck!"

"…Got it. Control, this is Blue 1. We've found a burnt area of ground that looks a lot like the marks left by retro-thrusters. I think we've found the landing site."

"Roger that. We will inform Red and Green Flights to rendezvous with you. In the meantime, look for any signs that might indicate the ship deployed troops."

"Understood. All right, ladies, let's hit the dirt and look around." They all converted to GERWALK mode and landed. They spent the next few minutes checking out the surrounding area.

"This is Blue 4," said Tommy. "I've got some tracks here…and they don't look like locals!"

"Excellent, Tommy! What's the deal?"

"They're boot prints…which means that that ship must've offloaded some Zentraedi. And I think I see the tracks of powered armors and variable fighters, too…again, none of ours."

"Which way are they headed?"

"…Northwest."

"Got it. Control, Blue 1 here. Tracks of ground units spotted, heading northwest. Right towards the base…"

"Understood, setting our scanners to pick up anything approaching from that direction. Do not leave your current positions until Red and Green Flights reach you."

"Will do. Blue 1 to Green Leader, what's your ETA?"

"About 10 minutes, give or take."

"Roger that. Blue 1 to Red Leader, what about you guys?"

"We'll be there in about 15 min-whoa! We've been bounced by hostile aircraft! They've all got Hammerhead markings. We're outnumbered here! Need assistance!"

"John, we'd better go help out! Green Flight's on the opposite side of us!"

"Yeah, you're right. Control, Blue 1 here. Red Flight has been attacked by an unknown flight of aircraft and is requesting assistance. Do we have permission to help out?"

"…Affirmative. Go and help them!"

"You've got it. C'mon, people! Let's hit it!!"

Upon reaching Red Flight, they found their comrades being swarmed by nine VF-4 Lightning III variable fighters.

"Let's hit them with the high-maneuvers," said John. "That ought to thin their ranks a bit!"

All four Blue aircraft fired their pairs of medium-range high-maneuverability missiles into the enemy swarm. The missiles hunted their targets ruthlessly, but not perfectly. Three of the nine managed to decoy their pursuers with flares. The other six were destroyed. Neither of Tommy's missiles hit.

"Okay, we've dropped some of them! Let's get the stragglers!" They dove into the fray.

"I'm on him!" said Tommy. He got a lock with his short-range missiles, and fired a short volley. To his dismay, the Lightning managed to get away by dropping flares. Knowing that his Thunderbolt had superior performance to the Lightning III, Tommy forced it into a turn by firing a couple rounds from the gun pod at the Lightning's tail section. As the Lightning broke left, he easily got inside his opponent's turning circle. He was in perfect position to make the guns kill.

"I always did prefer my fish filleted." He fired, but as he did, two laser bolts whizzed by his cockpit, startling him and throwing off his shot. He only managed to damage the Lightning he was chasing before losing his target.

"Whoa! What in the hell…damn it! I've got a Lightning on my tail!"

"Relax, buddy. He's mine!" said John. John's Thunderbolt rolled in behind Tommy's pursuer. "When I tell you, break left hard."

"Roger that," said a very nervous Tommy.

"C'mon, baby…lock on…lock on…there! Tommy, now!!" Tommy turned hard left as John unleashed a barrage of missiles at his target. The Lightning stood no chance; it was vaporized.

"Scratch one! Tommy, your six is officially sanitized. Let's get the rest of these suckers!"

"Right!"

Tommy eventually found the Lightning that had evaded him by the trail of smoke it was belching.

"You are not getting away from me this time!" Tommy closed in, then transformed to GERWALK mode and fired several bursts, all of which missed. "Damn it!"

The damaged Lightning suddenly matched Tommy's GERWALK configuration, spinning around and pointing right at him.

"Oh, no!" It fired several blasts from its large-bore laser cannons. Tommy barely got out of the way in time. He changed back to Fighter mode and turned away from the Lightning. As he did, he fired his rearward-facing laser cannon at the Lightning. To his surprise, he scored a hit on the leg of the Lightning, knocking the variable fighter off-balance in the air. Tommy pressed his advantage and came back around, almost making the full circle before his opponent managed to get back into Fighter mode. Tommy pulled himself into another gun attack setup, and then let the Lightning have it. Bullets tore into the aircraft's body, tearing it to shreds.

"I got him!" cried Tommy.

"Kill confirmed!" said John. "Nice job!"

"Thanks, but what about the other one?" A sudden explosion to Tommy's right answered his question.

"This is Red 1. The final aircraft is neutralized. Thanks for your assistance, Blues."

"That's what squadron mates are for," replied John. "I'd suggest we meet up with Green Flight and find those ground units…and there could still be air threats around here."

"I concur," said Red 1. "Let's hurry on."

Tommy sighed. "And God have mercy on us…"