Chapter V

            I didn't remember eating or drinking anything that night, only the fact that my stomach was content and my eyes were bleary.  I sat in the dark, my room lit only by a single candle, full of worry for Jiminez, as her injuries were extensive and hard to treat.  I desperately did not want to write another letter to a grieving parent.  Of course, that probably wasn't necessary at this point, considering the extent of the global casualties at the start of The Line, but the reduced potential of a necessity is a necessity all the same.  I recalled Lisa's sermon about the sanctity of life, but that still didn't make me happy.  All I could recall was the dread of losing a pilot and the knot in my stomach when it came to writing useless platitudes to console a family filled with grief beyond the capacity to think logically.  How did I manage to write Ben Dixon's family?  I thought back, remembering that it took me several sleepless nights and zombified days to achieve the perfect communiqué.

            Dear Mr and Mrs. Dixon,

            I am writing this letter to you to communicate the true circumstances surrounding the loss of your son, Benjamin Franklin Dixon, in combat with the Zentraedi forces, commanded by Khyron, over the city of Toronto last month.

            We had received word that the civilians aboard the SDF-1 would receive sanctuary in Toronto, due to the consent of their government, even though that hope was short-lived.  Ben, another squadron member named Maximillian Sterling, and I all went into town to celebrate the good fortunes of the civilians and, also, my recent promotion to squadron leader of the Skull Squadron.  We were in the middle of eating our dinners when the Klaxons went off on the intercom.  Ben, Max, and I all ran towards our planes, and we became airborne.  The dogfight became very intense, but Ben kept his head and flew well, downing three enemy fighters.  The SDF-1 was testing an experimental barrier field to protect against Zentraedi lasers, and the field took a pounding as we fought the enemy aircraft.  Eventually, the order came through to evacuate the area, as the field was chain-reacting.  Unfortunately, Ben's engines failed him as we attempted to escape the onslaught of expanding energy.

            I write these words to you with a heavy heart, knowing that a good pilot and friend is lost to me, and more importantly to you, but also with pride, as it has been a distinct privilege to have known your son, to fly with him, and to be his commanding officer.  I know that none of these words are going to eliminate your grief concerning his death, but I hope you find comfort in knowing that his life and his service made an active difference in the lives of the citizens of Macross City, and the people of Earth.  May God grant you peace and comfort in this time of grief.

Sincerely,

            Et cetera, et cetera.  I copied that format for each of my pilots lost on the Line, but, happily for me, I didn't have to write them too often.  Still, the stress was starting to get to me.  Nobody ever likes to lose a subordinate, and nobody likes to lose a friend.  What hit me the hardest was that, instead of Jiminez, it could have been Lisa that was almost killed.  I cursed the rebels, Maistroff, and the necessity of war.  Not that it was a productive endeavor; my cursing would have no immediate military effect.
            All of the mecha I'd brought in to Barton was well-worn, some were severely damaged, and, absent the officer's mechs, none were in true fighting shape.  Three months of continuous fighting had taken its toll on the fighters we loved and depended on.  I'd kept up a good show of morale for the troops, for Lisa, for Max and Miriya, but I think they all knew how close it had been, as well.

            "Hey, you alright?"

            I looked up, and saw the shining star in my sky, the only woman I would fight to the death to protect, and, even after dying, I'd find the strength to get back up and still kill the s.o.b. who was trying to harm her.

            "Yes, I'm okay, I'm just tired."

            "You can't fool everyone, Rick.  I know that look."

            "Okay, okay, so I'm worried that we'll lose another pilot.  Geez, why does it have to be this way?"

            "You're too hard on yourself," she said, soothingly.  "Alicia was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she didn't react fast enough.  Things happen in combat, remember?"

            "Ah, like the time you put a full barrage of reflex warheads into my VT."

            "You remembered," she grinned.

            "I'd always wanted to try a hot spring, and you gave me that chance," I commented.

            "And you told me that it was your fault for being there, and that it wasn't my fault for firing when I did.  Why are the rules any different now?"

            "I'm just afraid of being only a butcher of my own men.  I'm afraid that anything we do won't matter much, that we'll fail."

            "Look into my eyes, Rick."

            I stared into her eyes and lost myself in their warm, rich, full depths.  Green satin enveloped my soul as I looked, and her beauty drowned my sorrows.  I felt my tension slip away, falling to the ground in defeat as her hands moved to my shoulders.  Her grip tightened ever so slightly around my shoulders, stabilizing my body. 

"No matter how this war goes, win or lose, and no matter how badly our forces are mauled, as long as I live, as long as my heart beats and my brain functions, I will never leave your side," she said.  "Your love changed me, Rick.  I was ice-cold for many years, lost in a world of chaos and depression, after losing Karl.  I pushed everyone away and resigned myself to death.  But then you swooped down like an angel from the Martian sky and saved me from my self-imposed tomb.  I had almost given up on humanity, thinking that no one cared if I lived or died, and that I would not be missed.  Granted that you were acting on orders, but you saved me, and saw within me enough life left to be worthy of saving.  You wouldn't let me give up then, and I will not let you give up now.  Even if it's only you, me, Max and Miriya, we will stop this war, and we will stop the plague from scourging the earth."

I smiled and said, "Thank you, Lisa, I never knew how deeply you felt like that."

"Here's proof," she smiled, leaning forward.

Our lips met tenderly, but with a kinetic energy that surprised me.  Our arms tangled furiously as we tried to get comfortable.  We exploded in a torrent of kissing, embraces, and pillow talk as we comforted each other's fears.  It was heaven, pure and simple.  How a gentle touch and a kind word could change all the evil and demonic power in my soul, I'll never know.  Then again, I'm a pilot, not a poet.  That's a poet's job to figure out.  My job was to defend the poet and his right to write.  But I decided to be creative that night, and, though I'm no Shakespeare or Robert Frost, I gave it my heart and soul.  "'War-weary am I with the world,

But in your company, I am again childlike with curiosity,

And alive as though electrocuted.

Die though I might, if death does come

In your presence,

I wish it could be slow and long,

So that I can gaze into your eyes

Till the darkness comes,

And the gold disappears from my memories.'"

Lisa's eyes flew wide open in surprise.  "I never knew you wrote poetry, Rick."

"In general, I don't.  But I used it as a way to more fully express myself.  Mere words, though, cannot truly express my truest emotions.

'The perfection of what happens during our shared times

Is best left for ballads and songs,

Yet the simplest truth remains

That I am yours till the day my breath stills,

And from the day when the eternal doors of life

Welcome you back to me.'"

"How, then, will you express them," she asked, half nervously and half teasingly.

We locked eyes.  I knew in my heart that there was no going back.  We'd crossed the final barrier between us, the fear of intimacy, and we were safely on the other side.  She drew in her breath sharply and awaited my next move.  I kissed her cheek, softly, tenderly, and with great passion.  I started working toward her neck, nibbling ever so slightly as I progressed.  I felt her heartbeat increase as I touched and caressed her body, and felt the passion rising with every second.  Then, without missing a beat, the candle went out, and our passions reached a fever pitch, not abating until much later that night.

AN: Well, it's a quiet spot, which is welcome, but it won't last long.  Stress relief never does, does it?  And our heroes are always on call 24/7, aren't they?  Let's see what awaits them in the next installment. J