1530, Tuesday. I headed down the corridor toward my sector. The echoing steps of my march was met by another sound. It was the sound of a melody I heard before.

"Lonely is the man who listens to Minmei," Sergeant Dante told me once. "She was their the Earth's greatest weapon, not the SDF-1."

Zentraedi fell to their feet on account of one song. It's amazing how distracted you can become to music.

The piano player was undoubtedly Private Grant, as I've heard him so many times before battles. The ivories cried in a soft moan and yelled louder as I approached their lair. Some days it was Debussy or Chopin. On his saddest days it was always Minmei.

That's how I always knew there was a battle ahead. Private Grant played her songs like a drummer played in the ancient wars before bloodshed. It was the reveille that woke the alien Forces above.

His door was open, as it usually was.

"Hey Bowie," I waved slightly.

He stopped momentarily. "Hey Louie."