Chapter 2

The Veritech VF-1X screamed into the evening sky, blasting a pathway through stratospheric clouds. It was the RDF's newest Variable prototype, though at first glance it was difficult to tell what was so special about the fighter. Its body was similar to that of a standard VF-1. Like the others, it was able to transform between a swing-wing jet aircraft, a tall Battloid robot, and a hulking, inverse-legged tank known as Guardian mode. The VF-1X carried the same four head-mounted lasers that the junior officers' fighters, or "Jays," used as standard equipment. Externally, it seemed that the only discerning feature about the VF-1X was its dull black paint job and slightly longer tailfins.

But the big brass had instructed all test pilots that the VF-1X carried technology that could prove instrumental, if the SDF-3 ever made its slated voyage to the Zentraedi homeworld. Pilots were to guard the prototype with their lives, and to keep any knowledge of its existence completely classified.

Rick Hunter unstrapped his respirator, letting it hang at one side of his helmet. He kept a wary eye on his head-up display; there was reason enough in his mind to doubt the new VF-1X. A few moments after speaking with Lisa, Rick's communication system had completely failed. It was no real cause for alarm; every other system on the Veritech was functioning perfectly. But flying a relatively untested craft this close to nightfall, especially without communications, was enough to make Rick squirm in his cockpit.

The barren, rocky wasteland far below him was marked with long shadows. On the horizon at nine o'clock low, the auburn sun was beginning to set. Its dimming glow painted the skyline with shades of red that seemed to blend with the earthy colors of the ground.

Everything looks different from here, thought Rick. Beautiful, exciting. It's not every day you have to look down at a sunset. Funny how everyday things can change with a look from a different perspective. I wish Lisa could see this.

Lisashe's probably worried sick about me. I should be radioing with a check-in by now. But that's not gonna happen any time soon...I wish I could tell her I'm all right.

He shook his head, and looked down at his cockpit's instrument panel. A snapshot of Lisa was taped at the corner. She was standing in Macross City's central park. A water fountain was spraying a conical pattern behind her.

He loved her smile in this picture. It wasn't often that she smiled; who could blame her during times like these. But when she and Rick were together, he always did his very best to ease the sadness and pressure surrounding her. He could feel it, in a way, and it was contagious if he wasn't careful. But Rick was quickly becoming an expert at getting smiles from Lisa.

She deserves to smile, he thought.

A patchy forest area appeared on the horizon. Rick watched the treeline grow in size as he approached, and thought back to pre-war Earth. Once, in the very spot he was flying, the plant life was so thick that it was difficult to find a safe landing spot for Guardians. Now, the land was flattened, burned out, and cratered with deep blast holes. But somehow, this patch of forest, perhaps a half-mile squared, was able to survive.

A bright flash caught his eye from between the trees. It was the bulky, rectangular shape of a TC-1 supply aircraft. These relatively small, quick-moving craft were introduced as the Malcontent Uprising began. They were invaluable for carrying weapons and equipment across the wastelands, at a pace that could nearly keep up with the Veritech fighters that provided their air support.

Rick scanned the surrounding area with his eyes, but there was no sign of any Veritech wreckage. And from what he could make out, the downed TC-1 was in very good shape for surviving a crash.

Unless, of course, it had landed on its own.

That's it! Rick thought. Central Command reported that a TC-1 was stolen from Monument City a few days ago! This has gotta be the same plane! There's no other forest area like this for miles.

He contemplated the situation for a moment, and against his better judgement, descended to investigate the craft.

The VF-1X transformed into Guardian mode. The long twin thrusters that ran along the jet's fuselage swung downward, and altered their shape to form inversely bent legs. A pair of rectangular arms extended from under the Veritech and robotic hands slid open. The transformation gave the VF-1X the appearance of a walking tank. Rick brought it down vertically, landing beside the downed transporter.

From the cockpit, he spotted a young couple lying in a grassy clearing. They were barely visible, eclipsed by the shadow of the transport craft. But the Guardian's powerful thrusters had given them fair warning of Rick's approach. They quickly jumped to their feet, and raised their hands in immediate surrender.

Rick switched on the Guardian's loudspeaker. "Step into the light!" he called out, in a tone more annoyed than authoritative.

The couple obeyed quickly, and ran out of the dark shadow. A young man and woman, no older than mid twenties, were dressed in ragged civilian clothing. The young lady held her arms high in the air. Her companion also motioned for surrender, but wrapped one of his arms around her waist.

Rick rolled his eyes. How'd they get their hands on a transporter like this? he groaned. He checked the sidearm pistol strapped to his leg; it was loaded. The cockpit opened, and Rick climbed out.

"Please, sir! Don't hurt us! We're sorry!" The young lady cried.

"Stay where you are," said Rick calmly. He met eyes with the fearful man. "What are you doing here, and why are you standing next to a stolen TC-1?"

The young man was tall, broad-shouldered, and generally much bigger than Rick. He quickly hushed his girlfriend. Even in whispers, Rick could make out a powerful growl in his voice.

I think I'll keep my distance, Rick laughed to himself.

"We're sorry," said the man. "It was all my fault. I'm a cargo pilot by trade. Sarah and I lost everything to the War. We were discouraged, and, well"

The woman sighed, and interjected. "I wanted to see the trees again, sir."

Rick shook his head, and rubbed his eyes in frustration. More and more, the new-Earth people were showing disturbing signs. They were unable to cope with the dead wasteland that had become of their world. Evidence was present all around them of a race, their own race, on the verge of extinction. All the people longed for a sense of regularity in their lives. And a growing number of them were making desperate strives to achieve it, no matter what the cost.

Even if he disapproved, Rick could relate to them.

"You've committed a serious offense," said Rick. "I'm calling for backup, and we're taking you back to base for questioning."

The man nodded solemnly. "Do what you have to, sir."

Rick reached down to his belt, but found that his communicator was missing. Must've fallen into the cockpit, he thought.

He turned his back, but pointed a finger at the shaking couple who stood distant from him. "Stay where you are," he called over his shoulder.

But Rick was not halfway to his Guardian, when he heard fast-approaching footsteps. He slowly turned back in frustration. But he never made it all the way around; a powerful fist connected hard with the side of his skull.

Stumbling back, Rick focused his blurring vision, and saw the tall young man standing over him. His face was alive with rage, and he stood poised in a wide battle stance. From his belt, he was struggling to unsheathe a Zentraedi combat knife.

Rick vaulted forward, bashing his attacker in the stomach. The two fell against the ground and each struggled to pin the other down.

The Zentraedi won. He leaned back, and head-butted Rick, breaking the glass of his visor. Rick shouted and fell back, and the Zentraedi gripped his powerful hand around Rick's neck.

"You micronians are dumber than you think!" he sneered, squeezing Rick's windpipe with great zeal.

Rick twisted his body over, and the Zentraedi screamed in pain. Rick jumped up and grabbed the attacker's arm, forcing it behind his back, and pistol-whipped the Zentraedi in the back of the head. The blow had no effect.

The Zentraedi broke free of the hold, and gripped Rick's head tightly on the temple and at the base of his chin. Rick reacted instantly. He braced both arms against the side of his head, and strained with all his might as the Zentraedi tried to break his neck.

The clap of a high-powered gunshot made Rick freeze in panic. But he felt no pain; to his surprise, the Zentraedi loosened his hold. Rick tore free and rolled away, drawing his gun and pointing it as he turned to face his foe.

The Zentraedi was slumped forward, dead, and bleeding from the mouth.

Rick heard a terrible scream. He quickly turned his aim to the cargo plane. The female Zentraedi was on her knees, shaking and crying desperately. A Robotech assault rifle was on the ground before her.

Panic filled Rick's mind. Whatwhat do I do?

He left the dead soldier where he was, and slowly approached the female Zentraedi. His heart pounded wildly, but he kept as brave a face as he could muster in the midst of his terror.

"Don'tdon't move," he called. His voice cracked tensely.

The young alien wailed in agony, shaking and scratching at her hair.

"Wait, calm down," said Rick. "Just calm downeverything's gonna be all right. There's still a chance"

The Zentraedi let forth a piercing shriek. She crawled quickly on her hands and knees, reaching for the Robotech rifle. Rick's heart skipped. He ran toward her at full-sprint. I'm not gonna make it! he thought, and cocked his pistol as he ran.

She reached the weapon while Rick was still a few meters away. Rick raised his sidearm and prepared to fire. But the Zentraedi woman left the gun in her lap. She looked up, quivering and crying, and met Rick's eyes.

She cocked the rifle, and took her own life.