PART II
Going was easier said than done. The jungle didn't have any paths to speak of, and Sharin would have been hopelessly lost had not Boris managed to keep his inertial compass. Even so, it was slow, hard going-- often they'd come to a gorge or river and have to back track. Later that afternoon, they came to a crashed battlepod. The skeletal remains of the pilot lay at its feet. Sharin paused, looking at the insignia.
"One of Breetai's soldiers-- he was fighting for you." She said, and became quiet. Boris waited, and then spoke.
"Why did you fight with Dolza?" He said, "Ouch! Dammed vine!"
"I didn't have much of a choice." She said, "I was attached to Grand Fleet with my unit…why did Breetai fight for you?"
"Because he was contaminated by micronian culture." Sharin gave a small smile,
"And if Dolza had offered him a chance to return, rather than death, what do you think would have happened." She paused, "As I said, I had little choice…just like Breetai."
"So why aren't you launching raids on us?"
"Because now…" Sharin stopped, and thought. The silence lengthened and Boris almost opened his mouth, when she started talking again. "…now we have a choice." She said. "I'm in charge-- and those who follow me do because they trust me-- it's not as if I could have them court-martialed. I don't know if we should continue a war that was launched by the robotech masters."
"The robotech masters?" Boris was interested-- the majority of the zentraedi had never even seen them on a viewscreen, to say nothing of in person. "You know about them?"
"Yes-- and no, I never saw them either-- only the very high command, Breetai, Dolza, and a few others have directly communicated with them." She kept walking, ducking under a low branch. "But…"
"But?"
"Nothing."
But what did they ever do for you? A voice spoke in her head.
In the open, twenty miles would be a hard three hour run, or a more leasurely walk over the course of a day. In the jungle, it was much worse. By the end of the first day, they were less than ten miles from the crash site, and both were scratched, sore, and exhausted.
"Can we risk a fire?" Boris wondered. Sharin looked over at him.
"Not in the open." She said. "We need to find some shelter." She looked up at the threatening clouds (rain had never been a problem in space.) "Soon, I think." She said, as the first drops began to fall.
Within minutes the rain was sleeting down so hard they could barely see ten feet…and that was the reason that they didn't see the river, swollen to a torrent by the rain. The brushes on the bank helped hide it. Sharin came to the edge, looked down at the swirling mass, and desperately backpedaled only to feel her feet go out from under her.
Boris heard a shocked scream from the bank, and turned to see his charge go vanishing over the side, followed by a splash. The pilot ran over, to see Sharin being swept down stream, struggling to stay on top of the churning waters.
In the water, Sharin was flailing about-- she'd never swam before…in fact she'd never even been in water over her head! That was for infantry soldiers, not commanders. She had cause to regret that lack as she went under the water then made it to the surface, than was sucked back under. Her uniform jacket was turning into a sodden weight, dragging her down. She managed to free herself from it, but she couldn't do anything about her boots or pants, and started to go down again. She opened her mouth to shout for help, got a mouthful of muddy water, and went back down. Her vision started to gray out.
What a stupid way to die. She thought, with vague irritation, and than didn't think again.
Boris dove in, ignoring every rule of rescue-- most of which assumed that there was someone else to help you, so you didn't need to make any boneheaded move like leap into rushing water. Fortunately, Boris had been the champion member of his high school swim team…before his high school and everyone else around it had been turned into plasma. He hit the water, feeling the cold start to leach through his flight suit, and wondered how much worse it must be for Sharin, clad in clothes that were not waterproof. Where was she… he saw her hand, limp, marking the spot where she was floating along. Grabbing it, he started angling himself towards the bank, not trying to fight the current directly. When he grabbed a branch that seemed strong enough to hold him, his arm nearly was ripped from its socket, and Sharin's dead weight almost pulled him loose. He managed to fight it, and pulled himself up onto the bank, pulling her up. There was no time to rest. He flipped, Sharin over on her stomach and compressed her lungs, leading to a spray of water from her pale lips, as her lungs disgorged the water she'd swallowed in her last desperate attempt to breath. He flipped her back over and knelt over Sharin, putting his lips to hers, as he filled her lungs with air.
First time kissing a zentraedi… he thought with some humor. Then, Sharin started to gasp and cough, breathing on her own even if she was still unconscious. Boris looked around, and picked Sharin up. They needed shelter, and Sharin would go into hypothermia if she were left out…
***
"Well, that was anticlamatic." Sharin said, looking at the viewscreen of the dead world.
"Quite." Tzarna said. Sara Comofficer looked up from her communications bank.
"Confirmed-- Dolza's forces have boarded the battlefortress. All Micronians' have been killed and we've recovered the matrix!" Sharin smiled, looking up as the beaten remnants of Breetai's fleet fled, all order gone, pursued by the grand fleet.
"Now, we can." Tzarna was bent over a table, and turned about to face Sharin. Sharin gasped and staggered back at the carrion stench. "go back to killing for the Masters." Maggots writhed in her empty eye sockets. The monitors changed view to vast plains on the planet before, full of micronian bodies, with crows feeding off of them. The first Micronian that Sharin had met, Gary Chan, lay face up, a crow busily pulling one eyeball, out, before fighting with two others over who got the tidbit. His mouth moved.
"And we died for the masters…"
"Just like I died for them." Her first commander walked over, her rotted flesh falling away to reveal cheekbones and part of her jaw. Dolza was staring down at them from the view screen, beetles and maggots running through his rotted flesh and ragged robe.
"We all die for the masters." He said. "That is the zentraedi way. We kill, then we die. Don't you know that? I thought you were a good zentraedi." The others were somehow in the command bubble, advancing on Sharin.
"If you can't kill, you have to die…because that's what the masters order." Tzarna said, before her jaw fell off. Sara's slimy hands grabbed Sharin by the arm.
"Because we are only what the Masters made us. We don't make our own decisions…we are theirs and we kill and we die for them. It's easy." Sharin screamed and wrenched free, staggering to the exit lock and hammering the code. The door opened just as the others came towards her, chanting obedience to the masters in an unholy hymn. Then she fell out and was on a plain, full of Micronian bodies…moving bodies. A sea of corruption grabbed her and started pulling her down.
"You killed us." A young girl said, her face one massive blister from a heat wave.
"You killed us." A woman said, holding her broken child.
"All you are is the master's creation." A man said, grabbing her with his one remaining arm. "You can't be anything else…so come on down and join us."
"You killed us, and now you'll die-- here or somewhere else…it's the masters plan!" A man said, before he reached inside his ribs to scratch at a particuarly annoying nest of maggots.
"No! We're not…Let me go!" Sharin screamed, struggling, bodies and parts of bodies flew in all directions, but suddenly she was micronized, and they were pulling her down.
"Not what?" A kindly matron said as she pushed Sharin's head down under the bodies. "Not Zentraedi? Kill and die for the Masters…that's what the Zentraedi are dear… if you're not that, and you're not micronian… you're nothing. Here. Let me help you." Sharin's last screams were muffled as more and more corruption rose up…and pulled her down into the warm depths.
"Ah!" Sharin gasped as she opened her eyes. It was dark, the darkness only partially broken by a flickering fire, and she looked up into a shadowed cavern. A few moments later, and she realized that it was the cockpit of a fighter pod, canted on its side. The open canopy had provided entrance. Sharin wondered where the pilot was-- he obviously had not returned.
A silvery thermal blanket covered her, and her outer clothes were drying by the fire. Boris was by it as well. Hearing her, he looked over.
"Back with the living, Commander?" Sharon shuddered at the image that conjured. "Your underclothes…" He shrugged, "Well, I figured you might want to keep them on."
"Why?" Sharon said. Truthfully, they were only slightly damp-- unlike the outer clothes, undergarments were also designed to be worn with flight suits and spacearmor, so they were of a different fabric that shed water. Still… "Or is that some micronian thing?"
"Well… undressing a woman isn't…" Boris looked for the word, "proper."
"And if she was dying?"
"Oh, then It's ok." Sharin shook her head. Micronians! The fire had warmed the interior of the pod, and the thermal blanket was actually a bit too warm now. Sharin put it to the side, and walked over to the fire.
Boris gulped as the zentraedi walked over towards him. Boris liked women. He really did…and this was a definite women. Female zentraedi didn't wear bra's-- they had tanktop style garment that did the same job, but it was struggling in this case. The rest of her wasn't bad at all either.
Two things kept Boris from saying one of his trademark pick up lines. First of all, the fact that he was assigned to guard this leader of a group of non-aligned zentraedi…and if she decided to go to war because of his bad pickup attempt… well he was Russian, and Gloval was Russian, which meant he had a very good idea of just how horribly he'd pay for that.
Secondly… Boris had been prey to more than a few nightmares-- probably nobody on earth hadn't been…and that looked like the aftermath of a nightmare that had woken her up. She was looked at the fire intently, her face shadowed and closed in the flickering light.
"What's the problem with the fire?" he asked, jokingly. She replied, in a serious voice.
"It's the first time I've seen a fire used for this-- the last time I saw a fire close up was…"
"After the bombardment?"
"No. That was via monitor-- the last time I saw one this close was off V'ran."
"V'ran?"
"It was a small mining colony-- I had been ordered to evacuate it, and my fleet did so….but the Invid were there, in number…so many…" Her voice trailed off, then returned. "They hit us just as we had loaded the colonists and equipment. My ships couldn't retreat, couldn't maneuver…we held off the first two waves, but then we had to re-arm the mecha units…" She closed her eyes in memory, "And then they hit us with a wave that was twice the size of the first two combined. We lost the destroyers in the first attack…" She didn't say anything else after that for a time.
"What happened?" Boris asked.
"I ordered one of the surviving destroyers evacuated, and then I triggered a detonation sequence in the reflex engines-- like what your SDF-1 did to Dolza, on a smaller scale. We all swarmed aboard the other ships and freighters, and the Invid decided to destroy the warship first."
"How'd you survive?"
"I didn't expect too-- but Tzarna --the Zentran female that I was talking to on the tarmac--, she came aboard in her armor and rescued me, got me off just before it went up." She smiled, a bittersweet expression, "It was that showing that got me posted to Dolza in time for this battle…" her voice grew soft, "My old flagship… I'd spent my entire life on it…more than twenty micronian years." Boris blinked at that-- she didn't look older than tw-oh, the accelerated growth thing. "I remember the fire…the smell as it died around me. When we got back, it was sent to recycling, and I got the new ship."
"Did you lose many people?" Boris asked.
"Oh, yes…we lost nearly the entire flight group, except for the elite units…crew…some of the freighters…all honored in the name of the masters…all replaced and forgotten the next day, of course." She said, Boris heard bitterness…and even…fear? In her voice.
"So, Lieutenant, what do you do when you change, what do you call it… jobs?" She asked.
"Find another one." Boris said,
"And if your job is your life?" Boris didn't say anything.
"I-" She looked at him. "If Breetai is right, if all that is said is true, than what are we? Toys', weapons? All the deaths of zentraedi, from the first to the last, were useless-- all the medals and honors just methods to keep us happy." She said, "But if that's the case, what are we now? Do we become what you want? Become your image, instead of the Master's?" Boris was surprised, that he could read her so easily…but then.
This is the first zentraedi that you've really talked to-- beyond "die scumtraedi!" And they don't have civilian life-- so you don't' need to worry about social settings or interactions… She was a fleet commander, and he had no doubt that in a fight, or military base she was kick ass…but in some very real respects, your average teenager had her beaten in the interpersonal department. Add that to their lack of peacetime skills, and he could see her problem. Somehow Boris didn't see her happily entering into private life for the rewarding field of "do you want fries with that, sir."
"And I have to take care of my people…they are my people, even if nobody else cares for them." She said softly, almost to herself.
"What about your micronians?" Boris said, "don't they get a choice?" Before she could say anything else he continued, "And I've heard about that, work with us or be exiled-- but you've stripped every city for miles around-- that's not much of a choice, is it? And I bet you wouldn't let the workers or engineers go even to starve."
"You might be right." She said, equably. "We need that factory-- we need micronians to tell us how to build and maintain machinery for ourselves.. and I don't know if I can trust you and the UEG. If we gave up everything, and asked for your protection, would you? Would you protect us from the purifiers, or would the fact that they are micronian cause you to hold your hand."
"I've dealt with bandits…"
"Yes, but what about bandits who only attack zentraedi?" She asked Boris shook his head.
"I don't know…what about you?"
"I don't know…" She repeated his words. "I know that we need to change…but I don't know how, or when, or even if I have the right to make other's changes for them."
"You haven't said this…"
"To anyone else? No." Sharin said, "Tzarna would lock me up for my own good." She closed her eyes, "And she might be attacking the RDF right now-- we need to get to a communicator to get in touch with her."
"there might be a radio at the village, but it might not reach."
"Don't' worry about that-- but it needs to be done quickly." She looked over to him, "Because it's obvious that someone wants to start a conflict, and I don't want to give them the satisfaction."
"Who?" Boris said, He had some ideas, but wondered what Sharin thought.
"Not purely zentraedi-- but not necessarily RDF, either." She said. "There was only one veritech, and several zentraedi fighters-- so it could be anything from a deep conspiracy, to a few disgruntled individuals."
"I'd bank on deep conspiracy." Boris said. "less painful if you guess wrong."
"Yes." The fire was beginning to burn low. Boris hadn't been able to find enough dry wood to keep it going, and in any case, a fire was a risk. He reached back and grabbed the thermal blanket. "We'll have to snuggle-"
"Snuggle?"
"Ah, er… keep together-- the thermal blanket will keep us warm." The chamber was still warm, but it was cooling off rapidly. Sharin let Boris drape the blanket across the two of them. Reaction from her close call was hitting her, as she felt her eyes start to get heavy. She'd have to apologize to Korva she thought-- ground ops were very difficult.
Boris reclined back with Sharin on his side. He wasn't worried-- in fact it was better that she sleep, rather than try to stay up. He'd thought about maintaining watch, but he was pretty damned tired too. Now all- he gulped. Sharin was lying against him, and she was very squishable…in fact it was..
Down boy! He kicked himself mentally, and concentrated on putting the face of his forth grade teacher, the one who had forever traumatized him at the school play, instead of seeing the real, and relaxed face of Sharin.
Around twenty years old… He thought-- about his age in years…but Sharin had never been a kid, never ran, or toddled, or said a first word to her mom. She'd been decanted, not born, and had probably faced her first Invid a few days later.
And now… there was no Zentraedi armada or empire, or anything else. Boris realized what he'd missed about the zentraedi he'd fought, and what he saw in Sharin. There was fear. They were literally having to give up everything-- everything they'd ever believed, and they were afraid. Some of them were like Sharin, and didn't let it rule them, but they were all afraid. Boris abruptly wondered about all the zentraedi on the fleet-- maybe they were there not simply to defend earth, but to defend earth without having to be anything other than Zentraedi-- or at least without having to change any more than they had already.
Boris leaned back, and as the fire dimmed and the thunder grumbled, fell asleep.
When Boris woke up, the sun had broken through the sky and sunlight filled the pod's interior. He looked around, and saw Sharin, in her pants and uniform shirt, perched on a equipment panel, eating a ration bar. She tossed one to him.
"You were tired, so I let you sleep." She said.
"We should have gotten an early start." He replied. She shook her head.
"Every time a commander tries to get tired troops in action so he can 'get more done' less gets done." She shrugged, "We need to move quickly, and that won't happen if we're staggering over our own steps." Boris grinned. That was an admiral speaking-- and one he'd like to have had as a superior.
"Voice of experience?"
"Yes." Sharin replied. Boris bit into the ration bar and grimaced.
"What do they do to this stuff?" he asked. Sharin looked surprised.
"It was fairly good, actually. Better than standard zentraedi rations."
"And you still eat them?" He asked.
"Well, yes-- my crew eats them. Why should I do any different?" Boris grinned,
"Privileges of rank?" Sharin looked at him, with a combination of annoyance and resignation.
"My privileges are to lead them to victory, not to eat better than they do." She shrugged, "We'd better get started."
"Yeah…"
The day went faster than the one before had-- they were more rested, and the rain had beaten down some of the underbrush-- although it had also left many streams impassible.
"I think… there's a road up here." Boris said, "In fact I-" he cut off, and Sharin also froze, as Boris unsnapped his pistol and put a finger to his lips, before moving ahead. The sound they'd heard had been a gunshot, no mistaking that.
There was a truck on the road, with a body half in and half out of the drivers compartment, messily dead. Several ragged individuals stood around three other people, pointing guns at them.
"Where are the guns!"
"We don't have any guns-- none at all!" A woman said, trying to hide her child behind her. The untidy individual speaking to her backhanded her to the ground, where she lay, stunned, as her crying child shook her.
"Mama! Mama!" The first man raised his gun to the child, as the third individual, an older man, tried to convince him to stop.
"Please! You can take the truck, if only-"
"We don't want the truck!"
"Good, you don't get it." Boris said, his pistol raised and covering all of them. "Drop those guns, and start walking." He said. The men looked at him, smiling.
"Maybe you should drop your gun…" One said. "Because we are not the only ones here…" Boris tensed, and then there was a thump, as another individual fell out of the underbrush, and rolled out, dead, his head laying at an unnatural angle. Sharin walked out after him, gun in her hands, eyes deadly.
"My companion is human…and merciful." She said, "I am Zentraedi…and not merciful. You have five seconds to drop your weapons, strip your clothes off, and leave, or I kill you. Five…Four…" Guns hit the ground, followed by clothes. Soon, four naked men were trudging off down the road.
"We should kill them." Sharin said.
"No…" Boris said. "Unless they have a gang?" He looked over to the older man."
"No, Senor, they are just a group of ex soldiers-- I've never seen them with anything more than they left here…" Boris looked satisfied, although Sharin kept her gun on them until they vanished. Boris and the man moved the corpse of the driver back into the truck's cargo compartment, while Sharin helped the woman up.
"Oh thank you, You are an angel!" She said. Sharin frowned.
"No…. I'm not." Was all she said. When they'd gotten the truck sorted out, Boris and Sharin sat in the drivers compartment with the three-- the woman and child sat in the back seats of the compartment.
Boris watched Sharin as they drove the last ten miles into the village. There was no sign of worry on her face.
"Aren't you…bugged?"
"Why? Oh, him?" She said. "He wasn't watching his back, and I broke his neck-- we all receive that training, even if we never expect to use it."
"You killed him."
"Yes. I needed his weapon." She paused, "anything else would have been tactically foolish. Should I have done something else?" She said, looking at him.
"I…no."
The village was based around a crashed re-entry pod, the large structure serving as a town hall, shelter and warehouse all in one. A watch tower surmounted in, and some crudely welded Regult autocannon provided a rough, but effective, defensive battery. Sharin was unimpressed.
"useful against marauders-- but a single squad of soldiers could neutralize it." Boris had to agree, but felt cheered.
"That's a good thing-- in means there haven't been any squads of soldiers around her recently." Sharin nodded, then abruptly brightened up.
"Boris, if that unit still has and intact cockpit, I can get in touch with Tzarna!"
"Hang on, it's probably been pretty trashed."
"Trust me, telemetry beacons are very hard to hurt, and they don't have much day to day use for a scavenger."
"First lets talk to the locals." Boris said.
A delegation of villagers was walking towards them. Boris saw a priest and two older men, with several other younger men flanking them, armed with hunting rifles and a single submachine gun. The priest looked at them both.
"I thank you for saving our fellows…but I am surprised." He said, turning to Sharin. "Those who wear the insignia of the zentraedi are seldom friendly." Sharin was still wearing her shirt, and she nodded back.
"I'm from Asia." Sharin said, "And I was on my way to discuss…peace with the RDF before we were shot down."
"Ah… I see." Boris broke in.
"But those who shot us down might still be looking for us, so could we trouble you for a ride?" The priest shook his head, regretfully.
"The truck is the only vehicle we have…and is vital-- we could radio…" He looked at them, "But I think you might not wish that…stay here tonight, and we will see what we can do." Boris nodded, and then pointed to the pod.
"Can we see the control room-- there might be a way to contact some friends."
"Certainly, my son…and then you and your companion shall eat with us." Sharin and Boris needed no more permission and quickly scrambled up to the cockpit of the pod.
"Where is it…" Sharin muttered, than pointed to a box nearly as big as Boris. "There!" She said.
"Great…what do we do with it?"
"Open it!" She said, working on the latches. An hour later, with the aid of a crowbar, they finally had it open.
"normally, the pilot triggers it…but it could also be triggered by micronians." She said. "The re-entry pods are an old design-- it's said that when they were first designed, the robotech masters sent their own personnel along to oversee affairs." She looked and unlocked a case, which revealed a keyboard, "Thus, they needed micronian sized keypads." Sharin looked at it, quickly punched in a code, and while the lights on the box lit up, turned to Boris.
"I'm going to send a very short message-- I don't want to run the risk of being intercepted."
"But you can't use line of site-- you'll have to."
"Standard procedure of any zentraedi force is to release relay sats… and I'll bet there are a number sill up there-- they're very hard to find… in fact, we never even bothered to recover them after a battle…" A light flicked on, "Ah! There's one now…" Sharin quickly typed in a message, speaking as she typed.
"Tzarna-- Am alive. Intercepted by unknown force, not, repeat not, RDF. Take no hostile action. Will communicate with you later. Do not initiate communication. Sharin."
"Short." Boris said.
"But it says everything that needs to be said, and doesn't give overly much information away in case anyone was able to eavesdrop"
"Could they?"
"Difficult-- the cipher key I used was one Sara had come up with after we grounded… but not entirely impossible." She looked at Boris, "But there's an element of risk to everything." She grabbed the crowbar, "Now we can insure that there's no leak from this unit." as she smashed the console and the delicate circuitry within.
Later that night, they all ate with the villagers. Sharin was looking at her bean and rice meal dubiously, but finally conquered her fears and started eating. Suddenly, she got a beatific look on her face and happily devoured it. The priest looked at her and smiled, before turning to Boris.
"I wish some of my more… stern friends had lived to see this-- instead of being damned by the world, being saved by the world." Boris laughed,
"Well, she's quite the zentraedi." He said,
"But troubled." The priest, Michael said. "I could see that…"
"how?"
"My young friend-- I am nearly sixty…and zentraedi have little experience in being as devious as humanity."
"Yeah…well, she doesn't really know where she's going…" Boris said, uncertain of how much to say. "You do one thing all your life, and it's kinda hard to change." The priest nodded.
"Well, you be certain to stay near her." He said, "The younger generation laughs, but you were meant to be near her, perhaps for a very important reason…"
"Ah yeah… about that-- I was wondering, could I loot you for some clothes?"
"clothes?"
"Yeah, I don't think having 'shoot me, I'm a zentraedi officer' clothes is a good idea…something that would work more to blend it."
"Ah! Yes, of course…and we also have found some transport for you…although he's a bit unusual." The priest finished his meal, and Boris looked at him.
"He's Unusual?"
The next morning, Sharin and Boris were ready to leave. The priest and the village elders had given him a map which would take them to another village about forty miles away, by back routes and hopefully avoid anyone until they made their destination-- and better yet, the village had a dirt airstrip-- which Boris intended to make use of. The village women had quickly made a clothing collection for Sharin, and she was standing, looking more than a little uncomfortable in a white blouse with a colorful abstract pattern done on the sleeves, complementing her bluejeans and a multicolored sarape.
"Excellent!" Boris said, "Nobody would mistake you for a zentraedi commander now!" She glared at him.
"Including myself." Sharin said, looking at the clothes. "The women said there are other clothes in the pack."
"Good…we'll need them." He said. "And here's our robotech transport." Sharin stared. It was a four footed animal, that stared back at her with disdain. Boris smiled, "Behold…'El Burro!' We'll leave him at the village and they'll pick him up later." Sharin frowned.
"Can we trust that…thing?"
"Trust me, totally reliable." He said, "Better than a veritech, and it doesn't run on protoculture." He waved at the village, and than without losing any time, they started off. Boris would have liked to spend more time, but in truth they needed to get moving-- perhaps he should have called for a pick up, but the specter of what a black veritech could do to the village kept him from trying.
***
"Zor, cursed, thing…will you…move!?" Sharin pulled on the burro's reigns, and the beast glared at her, letting out a tremendous bray. Boris looked back in amusement.
"Sharin, you have to convince it to come with you… anyway, just one more ridge and we're into better territory-- they weren't kidding when they said this was a back route!" He looked at the ridge once more.
"Don't you turn your back on me you-" He turned back around.
"Sharin, you might want to get out of his-"
"What?" Sharin had turned around to see what he was saying when El Burro let fly with pinpoint accuracy, scoring a direct hit on her Gluteus Maximus, sending her sprawling.
"Sharin, are you ok!?" Boris asked, leaping down. She groaned.
"Yes… but I'm in some pain… If I trade them a battle pod, can I please kill that disgusting beast?" Boris laughed.
"It's not disgusting…. You just have to get to know it… Here fellow." He said, and it came walking towards him. "My family bred horses…and you just have to deal with burro's like small, smart, stubborn horses." The piece of hard candy he'd held for it was licked up immediately. "Oh, and bribe them, definitely bribe them."
"Hmph." Sharin muttered. Boris looked at her.
"That probably hurt a bit-- how about if you ride him, and I'll lead him." Sharin looked at the animal, in great disdain, then got on its back. El Burro flicked an ear, but with another bribe of hard candy, submitted.
As usual, forty miles stretched out longer than it would have on a road, and neither Sharin nor Boris were used to the new (well, old) method of measuring distance by how long it took to walk there. Sharin, it had to be mentioned, was also not used to walking so far with a pack-- something else command officers left for ground grunts.
Boris set a punishing pace, and Sharin, not wishing to dishonor the zentraedi, kept up with him-- and in any case, like most zentraedi, she was in very good condition. By the end of the first day, she ached. Her entire body ached. She had figured that riding would be easier…but she'd never ridden an animal before-- she'd never seen an animal before. She was convinced that El Burro took delight in making things worse than they had to be, although it didn't try to kick Boris.
"Errr…." She said as she sat before the fire. They were in a small canyon that shielded the fire from most eyes, so they could risk it. She hunched over-- every part of her was sore, her arms, legs, feet… she glared at El Burro, unconcernedly grazing a few feet away. Boris looked at her, and moved behind her.
"Here-- hang on." He said, and Sharin felt his hands on her shoulders, as he started to firmly massage them. Sharin was about to ask what he was doing, when she felt the pain and tension begin to leach out of them. She sighed in contentment.
"Do zentraedi massage?" He asked,
"No…"
"What did you do when you weren't fighting?"
"prepared to fight some more." Sharin said. "We had…games, but they were really training drills."
"What about medicine? You had to have it for injured."
"Not really-- if you were too badly injured to heal on your own, you died-- unless you were an officer or an ace, in which case you could be healed…poorly." She paused, "One of the Micronians living with us is a doctor-- if he had been on scene, Breetai would never need his eyeplate."
"Nice people…" Boris said.
"Do you waste worry on a missile?"
"Well I want it to work…"
"Same principle." She finished, as he kept massaging her shoulders. Boris decided to ask the question.
"Sharin…you don't look like most female zentraedi…they're tall and well…you're…"
"Short?"
and curvy Boris didn't say.
"Yes."
"I was a clone prototype. The Masters had the idea of create a smaller, faster zentraedi to better use mecha. Better reflexes would make up for our smaller size."
"And?"
"A failure. My reflexes are no more than average, and worse than the average elite pilot." She leaned back, "I am weaker and shorter than any of my compatriots-- my clone sisters were terminated, the line ended."
"But what about you?"
"I was already decanted-- my first commander did try to have me terminated, but I survived, and discovered a talent for predicting Invid strategies." She gave a very rare smile, and Boris was amazed at how it changed her face, "In fact, I became very, very good at it…which eventually led to my transfer from mecha to ship operations…and command."
"Wow… sounds like you had some close calls."
"Close calls?"
"Er…almost died several times."
"Yes." She said. "Boris…what about you-- how did you end up in a veritech?"
"My whole family's been military, one way or another, and I joined up at 17 just before the SDF-1 got hit." He shrugged. "I spent the rest of the war in a submersible carrier-- when Dolza hit us, we were a thousand feet under the pacific ocean…most of my family was away from the major impact zones, so they survived…mostly." He transferred his attentions to her lower back, attacked the knotted muscles there, "After that, well, there may be peace in a while, but my life's been pretty busy."
"There won't be peace-- not if the Robotech Master's come."
"You think they will?" He asked her, remembering to file this information away for debriefing.
"If they can-- the Invid wish us dead…because we stand in the way of killing the masters. But the Masters will be destroyed utterly if the Invid get to them, and their only hope now lies here. They may not be able to-- they were also suffering protoculture depletion."
"Comforting thought…" He said. "And what would you do if there was real peace-- if we found out that nobody else could get here, and the RDF and zentraedi came to peace?" She was silent for so long that Boris was afraid he'd offended her, but then.
"I… I'm not certain." She paused. "I can fight-- in battle I can direct a fleet, I can see what the best course to victory is…but… I'm blind when people talk about peace." She turned around and looked at him. "My settlement, thousands of warriors, ships, mecha… micronians building and helping us learn how to build…but always in terms of maintaining our forces. But if the day comes when we don't need those forces… I don't know. What would you do?"
"Find a family, get a job as an airline pilot, maybe go back to school." Boris shrugged, "In our civilization, the military isn't even the biggest thing-- although obviously that changes during a war." Sharin didn't say anything, and Boris fell quiet as she looked at the fire. He was coming to know that look-- she was thinking about something that didn't have a solution-- at least not an apparent one.
"We'd better get to sleep… at least now we have our own blankets." He said, smiling. Sharin didn't react, still deep in thought, as Boris got the blankets.
"Peace is declared!" The shouts echoed through the ship.
"Of course, there will be some changes." The Robotech masters said, looking down from the screens. "Everybody can't be Miriya or Breetai, after all!" Sharin was in a line, behind a private, in front of an admiral. Part of her wondered what the problem was, why the line.
"Well, Here's the end to war!" A captain said as he walked up to a bioroid and gave it his insignia. The Bioroid blew his head off, his body tumbling into an abyss.
"Next!" The private walked forward. Then it was her turn.
"Congratulations on the peace, Commander, and best of luck in your next endevour!" The bioroid said, before lowering its gun drum at her head.
Sharin's eyes snapped open. The night was deep, the fire only embers. In the distance, something gave a mournful howl. El Burro was asleep on his feet, and Boris also was asleep. She looked around, and rose to her feet, padding silently over to the lip of the small depression. There was no hint of light on the horizon…
"What's wrong?" Boris said behind her. Sharin looked back. She hadn't heard him rise.
"Nothing."
"Bull." He said with a certain amount of ruthless cheerfulness. "You've had a nightmare-- second one since I've met you, which is impressive, because you've only slept three times."
"It was… about what might happen after peace…" She said, reluctantly.
"And it scares you."
"Yes." Sharin said.
"It doesn't have to be that way." Boris said. "Everything I told you I might do, you could as well-- heck, in some respects you're better off than me!" Sharin looked dubious, and Boris moved ahead. "You are twenty years old physically, but you have more experience than any human your age! Running a company, or a school, isn't much different than running a military unit!" Sharin looked at him soberly.
"But only if you have the opportunity." She said, "Many humans proclaim that we are…programmed for war."
"Bull." He said again. "Grow up knowing nothing but fighting and you'll be a fighter-- that's common sense, not genetics." He looked at her. "How many people back home do you talk about with this?"
"Few. Many don't like to talk about it…and right now, for a commander to admit having no idea what to do…is a danger." She said.
"A danger?"
"Yes-- I have the official right to lead….but that right was conferred by Dolza and the Robotech Masters…"
"And…"
"and in reality, it is only tradition and trust that binds my officers and soldiers to me…and our allied forces." Sharin said, and gestured at the land around them. "Do you think these tiny bands started that way? They did not, but if every soldier decides he has the best idea…then the only way to gather a force is to convince them, one by one, and keep them convinced."
"I know-- it can get pretty bad, no way to predict what they're going to do." Sharin rounded on him.
"It is your best fortune! What do you think would happen if all the zentraedi of the grand fleet who survived were joined together in to one force? You and Breetai combined would be hard pressed."
"And you're afraid of that." He said.
"That…or of them following me to disaster because they trust me." Sharin said. "But I can't speak of it to them… I dare not. Even my closest allies, Korva, Tzarna…they don't understand the knife edge we stand on." She looked at him, with a stern expression that didn't mask her miserable loneliness.
"Sharin…" Boris said, "come here…there's something micronians do at times like this."
"You're not suggesting a…kiss." Boris laughed,
"No…something else." He took her by her shoulders and pulled her into his chest, dropping his hands to her back. Sharin didn't resist.
"Now put your arms around my back." He said. She did and he felt her…felt her actually trembling.
Sharin was frozen. What was she doing? She could feel the micronians body, his heat, his scent…she'd never been this close to a male before, and she'd rather have embraced an Invid. Except… she didn't feel like that. In fact… Sharin leaned her head against his chest.
"What is this supposed to accomplish?" She asked.
"Mama always said a hug was the best way to let you know the universes greatest lesson…that you don't have to be alone." Boris said softly. "Sharin, I don't know your people…but I think the one thing you have to learn, is that you don't have to be alone…you can let other people in." He pushed her back looking down into her eyes. "The masters made this society, always military, always alone, always giving orders or taking orders…and that's not how people were meant to live." He paused, "They were meant to live together, as friends, family…generation to generation." Sharin dropped her eyes, unable to meet his.
"But my responsibilities." She said, Suddenly, Boris took her by the chin and gently forced her to look into his eyes.
"Is that the voice of the Robotech Masters I hear? I've never heard trust used in relation to them…" He stopped searching for words, then continued, "Sharin… there comes a point when you have to trust… or you can't go forward. Trust your friends, trust your enemies even…but if you don't, you'll be stuck, forever." He smiled, "Like a hug-- you have to let somebody close enough to hurt you before they can help you."
"And this always works?" Sharin said.
"Not always, and once you let someone in…they can hurt you a lot worse." Boris said, "But it's worth it." There was no doubt in his voice, none at all. Sharin said nothing, then looking up.
"I need…to think about this."
"I bet you do…it's a lot to think about." He replied, and gently unlinked his arms from around her. Sharin didn't do the same for along moment, and then started, almost jumping back.
"Thank you Boris…" She said, and then, uncomfortably. "We'd better get back to sleep," Boris nodded.
"That'd be a good idea." He said, walking to his blanket. Sharin did the same and curled up in her blanket. Part of the night she thought about finding some way for her people to make their way in a world without war…but as she fell asleep, she found herself thinking about how it had felt to be in Boris's arms…how she had, for the first time she could remember, not felt alone.
The next morning there was little conversation. Boris didn't say much, and if he noticed Sharin staring at him, he didn't react to it. This time, Sharin walked, possibly to avoid El Burro dumping her like he had yesterday. The Burro flicked an ear in victory.
"I think…" Boris said, than heard the roaring sound of a jet.
"Oh Hell! Let's go-"
"No!" Sharin snapped, the expectation of obedience in her voice. "We'll never get to cover-- all we would do is make them wonder why we're running!" Boris looked up as a black veritech rose over the two and converted to gerwalk. For a moment he stared his death in the face, then the veritech waved at them, waggled its wings, and transformed back to fighter, leaving.
"Oh God!" He said, "Don't do that again to me any time soon."
"He must have thought we were micronians." Sharin said.
"Well, by tonight we should be at the village." Boris said, "If we get a move on."
"Oh yes." Sharin said, starting out. The region they were in was easier going, and they started moving quickly-- Boris felt like he was going to grow eyes in the back of his head, but the veritech didn't return, nor did the hordes of zentraedi his mind kept conjuring up. Sharin seemed perfectly fine with it-- as worried as she was about her place in the universe, there was nothing to be done about enemy mecha, so she didn't worry about it.
Finally, they came over the last hill and saw a village-- well a town compared to the last one, with a single dirt strip, a main street, and people…lots of people (well at least 800), with lanterns and the sounds of a band. Boris grinned.
"Looks like we stumbled into a party-- we're not going to get out before tomorrow."
"Why not?"
"A festival-- everyone will be enjoying themselves… which isn't a bad idea."
End Part II.