Dandelions: Chapter 3 of 9

"SHOWERS! HOT showers! Thank you, God, I believe in you again!"

"Hmm, soap that isn't sweat-scented."

"Water water everywhere. I love you, water..."

"Definitely an improvement."

"Improvement? IMPROVEMENT?? My god, Zinnert, how you understate."

"Been a while, huh, Gerald?"

"Stop smiling. Fuck you, Altman."

"Nope, that's Sherry's job. You can stop throwin' the soap at me, Kevin."

"The Invid are barbarians! They don't believe in showers! Shit, what do they do, wallow in that green shit all day? How can they stand it?"

"I love you water, hydrogen hydroxide baby. You're my fave."

"You definitely haven't gotten laid recently. Well, yeah, recent conditions..."

"Nope, just going orgasmic over cleanliness. Burblelblrubble blruubelble."

"Get your face out of the shower head, O'Shea. God, you're weird."

"Took you this long to find that out? I thought it was obvious before. I've worked at it. I haven't anything to lose, what with being a faggot already."

"What???"

"Just stating something already mentioned, Matt. And you're one too."

"Frederick?? Have you--"

"Just stating an established fact, I think. Lieutenant. The weirdnesss, not the other. I'll be in here until the crack of doom, if you don't mind. Send a bar of soap in every so often."

"Sorry, Fred, no can do. We've got a war going on."

"Yes, master. Any time, master."

"Burbleburbleburble burble."

oooooooooooooooooooo

Drip, drip, drip, drip.

"Look at this, man. What's a Sealy Posturepedic?"

"Whatever it is--" a bounce onto the plastic-wrapped package, "Ohhh-- this is to die for."

"And electric lamps. Where's those VCR machines Sherry's been talkin' about?"

"Over in the Hardware section. It's not going to go anywhere, Gwen. Besides, whenever the guys get out, I won't care if they spontaneously disappear."

"Oh, to be clean again..."

"Yeah, and look at what I found."

"What? Oh, god, Sherry. Flourescent pink dye? Are you gonna..."

"YES." A happy squeak of rapture.

"Christ, Sherry, the Invid will see you from ten miles off!"

"Don't swear, Miranda."

"Ah-ha, little Miss Toiletmouth telling me? And it's thirty-four years old! Do you have any idea what it's going to be like now?"

"Extra concentrated?"

"Well, it's her hair. Besides, we can all laugh at her later."

"Mandy, you're cruel."

"But honest." Giggle.

"Not going to be the only color."

"Uh-oh, what is it, you crazy wench?"

"Wench yourself, Miranda."

"Well, what is it?"

"Blue."

"Oh, no no no no no..."

"Why don't we hit a clothing store, girls?"

"You go ahead, Gwen, I'll stay right here. This is my mattress."

"Yeah. And these are our clothes, and the guys' clothes, dryin' on some cord we found. And those are our Cyclones..."

"Sarcasm isn't you, Gwen."

"Wake up, Mandy, I think the guys are done."

"I wasn't sleeping anyway."

oooooooooooooooooooo

"Look at what we found."

"Yes! Mattresses that aren't cut off in the middle. Where?"

"Ooof--over in that one department store. The JCPenney's. Those were the demonstration mattresses, stupid."

"Excuuuse me."

"We found the storage area. Not too roachy, all things considered."

"Now where did El Lieutenante say we were shackin' up?"

"Bottom floor. In the one store, next to the video and LD store. I think Sherry's turning Suncoast Pictures into our TV room. I saw her with the pallet, leaving the store same time we were. Huge-ass TV. What the hell is she intending on watching on it?"

"Knowing Sherry, I don't think I want to know. This is a woman who has Scouts for breakfast and then decides to curl up with a Stephen King novel. Speaking of which, that Waldenbooks up on the upper level..."

"Miranda went in there at nine. Hasn't come out since. Zinnert's thinkin' of organizing a search party."

"Aw, let her have her fun. You know, she used to be an English doctoral candidate."

"Anyway--really? Not bad. Where?"

"Some university out east. In Pennsylvania. Yeah?"

"Is there gonna be something where we girls can sleep and you guys can sleep elsewhere? Ain't gonna let any of you guys see my underthingies... "

"Oh yeah, but Kevin's got a free pass, doesn't he?"

"SHUT UP."

"Hmmm, I wonder what you were doing in that Victoria's Secret place."

"I am not listenin' to this." Aggrieved bootfalls faded.

"Hmm, you seem to have pissed her off over to the showers."

"Well, it's not like she's going to get into his pants anyway, no matter what she thinks. Have you ever seen O'Shea without Matt?" There was a thoughtful pause.

"Nope. And Ulm always insists on being the first to see to him when he gets banged up. Definitely queer, those two."

"Yeah. Help me get these damn mattresses downstairs. We still need to get three more."

oooooooooooooooooooo

A week later

Things had become more organized. Two stores, one on either side of a discarded video store, had become host to the respective male and female halves of the Elms. The racks and other paraphenelia that had formerly inhabited them had been moved out into the main corridor, and in some cases, were now being worn by the resistance. Considering the vast glut of still-usable products inside the old shopping center, it was decided that some of it would be used for barter with other resistance factions and towns in order to get food, ammunition and protoculture. The lighting and security systems had at last been found somewhere in the bowels of the place, and light, for the first time in three decades, illuminated their segment of the territory.

A population of cats had been found to be haunting the distant corners of the building, which most likely accounted for the lack of rodent damage to the goods. At first, Amanda assumed that they had been escapees from a pet store within the confines, but search had uncovered nothing of the sort. After Ulm had gently pointed out the fate of any animals caged and abandoned here, Amanda was just as glad there were not. The felines had apparently come from outside, looking for prey. They were wild, but Amanda had covertly seen Gerald and even Dennis set out food for them. She added her contributions as well.

They had become the most comfortably-equipped they had been since the war had

started/re-started, and in some cases for the first time in their lives. Dennis seriously considered going on a barter trip to either nearby Danville or Terre Haute, two towns that had managed to survive the Robotech Wars somewhat intact and which were reputed to have caches of protoculture and ammunition. Miranda offered to go along. Amanda was privately unhappy at the thought of temporarily losing one of her closest confidantes, but made no mention. Kevin, though, seemed affected by it as well, if only exhibiting it by redoubling his snatch-and-infuriate attacks on the elder Altman.

Shiroikiku at last managed to hook up power and a video and laser player to an enormous television she had pilfered. She'd gathered together a stock of old movies she judged were "absolutively must-sees, got me?" and was planning to subject her teammates to an entire day of it--at least.

Ulm gave his blessing. This set off another conflict between him and Zinnert. Zinnert pointed out it was not millitarily correct. Ulm pointed out what the team had been through in the past month had not been millitarily correct. Zinnert said that it left them open to the Invid. Ulm said the Invid would find them when they were good and ready at any rate. Zinnert said they had better things to which to dedicate their energy. Ulm scowled and agreed, and then pointed out that Zinnert and Miranda were to leave very shortly, the others had some sick team-mates to find again, the Elms had been through some very trying times recently, and Shiroikiku's improvisational film-fest might recover their battered morale. All of those things were quite energetic. Death and fighting could always wait.

Zinnert threw one last salvo regarding his ten years of experience in the REF and the Sentinel War and how the Admirals Hunter would have never allowed something so anti-regulations to be done. Ulm's soft hazel eyes went agate and he pointed out that if Zinnert hadn't noticed, this wasn't exactly the REF anymore, regulations had died about two years ago regarding the Invid War, and furthermore Ulm would very much like to meet the Hunters and discuss their cinematic tastes with them.

It was in fact the first time the two co-leaders had actually come to something like blows in Mandy's memory. As she watched the exchange, she raised her eyes and suddenly encountered Kevin's ironic blue stare. He rolled his eyes to the heaven and left the two to patch things up.

The filmfest went through.

oooooooooooooooooooo

"Check me out!" Miranda declared, strutting into the room. Gerald looked up and whistled raucously.

"Looking hot, babe! Arrooo." She smacked him. She actually was quite striking in a dark purple sweater (Bergner's) stirrup pants (the Gap), and a blazing collection of brass beads studding her redone cornrows. The heavy military field boots rather detracted from the rest.

"Where'd you get the couch, lumphead?"

"Penney's. Carrying it down the elevator was a bitch. But here it is."

"So I see. Where's--Oh, there's Amanda." He nodded and smiled at the newcomer, the past few months having eroded some of the distrust and reserve. She answered it. "Nice civvies. They look good."

"Thank you. I hoped they would." She looked down at loose khaki slacks, thick wool socks and beige suede boots. On top she had a spring-green sweater over a coral blouse and quite a lot of costume jewelry. Malcolm had also contributed a trim and french braid . "Guess we're dressing up for it."

"And why not? It is a party of some kind."

Miranda snorted lustily. "Plus I was really gettin' to hate those damned coveralls. Whichever Reefer designed them went into the Gunny Sack school of fashion, I swear."

"Yeah, I'll agree, 'Randa. Only good thing about 'em is that you can rip 'em on for an attack. Don't mind telling you what things vomit olive does for me." Gerald rolled his eyes.

"Well, yeah, does make you look washed out."

"I don't believe this," Mandy grumped. "The muscles of the Elms, and he's worried about color coordination?"

"Twerp, just because I have muscles doesn't mean I don't have a fashion sense." He yanked at his sweater haughtily. Not much could be found to fit him even here, but dilligent effort had turned up a few things.

"Shuddup, Gerald."

"YEEEEEEEHAAAWWWW!" Gerald ducked as a screaming red, green and black blur dove out of nowhere and ricocheted off the couch.

"Kevin, you twinky son of a bitch!" Gerald roared. The two women, astonished, poked their heads up and got a impression of a body imploded into several of the beanbags also accquired for the day. Indistinct, mocking barking sounds could be heard emitting from the locale. Gerald settled back into his couch, steaming. Mandy had to bite down on an eruption of giggles.

In a huff of offended dignity, the Elms equipment manager turned back to Amanda. "See you finally got the stitches out."

She nodded, touched her face. "Yeah."

He examined her face a little more closely. "Hmm, not a bad job of healing at all. No puckering. Main problem with the big one is that it's a distinct straight trench in your cheek and they all tend to be a bit on the white side." One big finger traced a two-and-a-half inch healed slash in her cheek.

'It's not gonna go away, is it?"

Gerald shook his head. "I think you're stuck with it, unless you can get some fancy REF cosmetic surgery." Her shoulders sagged. "I've got plenty of my own to prove it. But hey, yours was a neat mess. It healed neatly. Gives you character, and you're still pretty even with it. Malcolm did a terrific job in the circumstances."

Kevin examined it too, ignoring Gerald's suspicious movement away from him. "He's right. Accept it, okay?"

She reluctantly complied.

"YOU look like Christmas," Miranda snorted.

The younger man grinned and bowed, showing off his red-shirted, green-jacketed finery to full advantage. "I try hard."

"What's with that stupid green bandanna around your head?"

"I'm going Japanese. Sherry explained it all to me. I'm gonna be the Cyclone Samurai. She started yammering something about Planet Ten and then I decided to get the hell out of there."

"Yep sounds like her. How Malcolm stands her is beyond me. I take this goes in with your Zen fetish?"

"Yup, and my kendo fetish, and my rice fetish. Nothing like whacking the crap out of each other with bamboo and then sitting down to dinner."

Gerald snorted, sinking into the couch.

"How Matt puts up with you is beyond me."

"He's a masochist. A very tolerant one."

"I've gotta be with your stealing other people's well-deserved food, like a certain lunch yesterday." O'Shea grinned ingenously at Miranda's glare.

Amanda, smiling at the verbal feud, perked up. "Hey guys, I can hear the others coming."

"About time, too," Kevin said. "Let's go see what this stuff is all about."

oooooooooooooooooooo

"That...Wow."

"Yeah, cool, ain't it?" Shiroikiku said proudly. "My favorite."

"Uh, what's the deal with the little gray bunny turning into...uhm..."

"Oh. Well, makes a cute ship, no?"

"But I mean, the mass conservation..."

"Hey, it's anime."

"Uh, well, the girl is a bit of a, um, babe I guess... Wouldn't want to be the guy, though. She seems pretty pissed about something."

oooooooooooooooooooo

"Okay, now explain why the guy turns into a girl when he..."

"It's a curse. See."

"Now it's cold water. He, uh, whatever, turns back when she gets hot

water."

"Yep."

"So what if she gets into lukewarm water? She become a hemaphrodite?"

"Better yet, what if he, er, she gets pregnant?"

"Oh, for Kwannon's sake, dincha ever hear of suspension of disbelief?"

oooooooooooooooooooo

"Why is this funny?"

"Hee hee. I don't know. It just is."

"Pleased to meet you, Bruce."

"You too, Bruce."

"Ex-parrot, anyone?"

"Not at all a well cat, to come back from the trip and find a dead cat would be so--anticlimatic."

"Yes, yes."

"Oh, god, don't get me started," strained giggles, "on the huge," titter "soiled," tee hee, "BUDGIES!" Apoleptic laughter.

"He's going to piss his pants, he is."

oooooooooooooooooooo

"Those blonde and brunettes between 16 and 19 and a half can spank me anytime."

"Pervert."

"Oh, yuck, I'm not going to sit next to you."

"Hey, you come here."

"No."

oooooooooooooooooooo

"Hmm, anyone know about the flight speed of an African versus a European

Cyclone?"

"Nope. Coconuts were good."

"Could it carry a coconut?"

"Help, I'm being repressed! Maybe we ought to start yelling that next fight."

"Yep."

"Any idea on whether the Regis was a hamster and the Regent smelt of elderberries?"

oooooooooooooooooooo

"You seem like a decent fellow, I'd hate to kill you??"

"Sure. Zentraedi turned out to be okay, didn't they? Even the Robotech Masters people, even though you can never really tell what gender they are."

"I resemble that statement."

"You would. You're not a clone."

"They'd resent it."

"Shut up. I'm watching the fight. You keeled my father, prepare to die."

"S'all right. I like those shrieking eels."

"What's with all this political analysis anyway? We're guerrillas, not Marxists."

"Shut UP! I'm watching the fight! That's an order!"

"Ooo, testy, Lieutenant."

"You betcha, Rutherford."

oooooooooooooooooooo

"Aux armes, citoyens--"

"Oh, that. I think it follows with something like the enemy hiding in the underbrush and snorting and grunting or something."

"How would you know that, Kevin?"

"I speak pretty good French. Sort of like the literal translation."

"Will you shut up??? This is a classic we're watching!"

oooooooooooooooooooo

Some time later brought on some fascinated observation.

"Wow, is he doing what I think he's doing?"

"I think he's doing what you think he's doing."

"Aww, Gerald's crying."

Sniffle. "Shut up, Malcolm, or I'll kick your teeth in." More sentimental noises came from the mass on the couch. "It's so damned sad. Rick's still in love with the girl, but he can't let her husband get caught and so now he's..." Sniff. "God, I loved this movie. We used to play all the old ones at home all the time. Nothing like an old black-and-white."

"Bogey, that was the dude. Knew you'd like it."

oooooooooooooooooooo

They staggered out in the late night into the mall corridor, much later.

"That...that was really bad for my mind." Miranda blinked glazed eyes at the

tiles.

"Yeah, great, wasn't it?" Sherry said cheerfully.

"Uh, Kevin's still in there. I think he's trying to replay the British comedy tapes." Malcolm nudged his lover in her shoulder.

"Really? Ah, let him. Which ones?"

"I think the one with the penguin."

"Let him."

"What, you mean you want him ever weirder than already?"

"Weird is good. I like him weird. I like everyone weird. If we were all weird, the Invid could never figure us out."

"It's two a.m. If he wants to be exhausted for hunting detail tomorrow, that's his business. I'm going to bed." Gerald stomped past them to the

men's side.

"Has Dennis been on security watch all this time?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's been sulking. Gave him something to do besides whine about our unprofessionalism."

"Oh, well," Miranda yawned. "Hey, Gwen, let's go to bed."

Rutherford, bedecked in a black sweater that showed off her cleavage and heightened her flaming hair, sighed and followed them into the curtained entrance of the women's half.

oooooooooooooooooooo

"Uh, Kev, you want that button." Matthew yawned deeply and covered his mouth.

O'Shea's eyes widened. "So that's the play button. Thanks."

One month later, late April 2045

And these are the days when our work has come asunder

And these are the days when we look for something other

--U2, "Lemon"

First Lieutenant Matthew Ulm looked down at the message on the transported glass cafe table, the all too-familiar sour taste of fear in his throat. He sighed.

Second Lieutenant Dennis Zinnert regarded him steadily over the surface. "Let me guess."

Ulm nodded. "Invid got a town near Danville. Only reason we know it is that the resistance came in and found the place stripped of all human life. More, three other towns nearby had the same thing happen to them. One anti-Invid town was levelled. The rest in the area are running to the military, hoping they're going to protect them. Only thing it's doing is making it easier for the Invid to find resistance."

"Guilty party is either that damn great big stilt hive thirty miles east of Hannibal or that dome near Lafayette. Invid takeovers have been in a pretty rough radius from those spots."

Ulm nodded and took in another breath. "I take it you knew Major Catharine Howell."

Dennis nodded. "She was one of the Icarus team that managed to suvive the LaGrange Massacre. I got the new Cyclones from her. Good leader."

"She was killed two weeks ago." Dennis dropped his sassafras tea, the liquid sloshing out of the mug onto the surface of the table.

"God. What..."

Matthew sighed. "Looks like her group was caught by the Invid. Her Legioss was dismembered and crushed. What was left wasn't...recognizable."

Dennis went white. "You know what that means."

"Oh yes. I heard about the Viper's Nest as well as you. Somebody important in the enemy ranks really didn't like Major Howell. At least the rest were only just killed. Howell was tortured."

Dennis rubbed his forehead.

"At least we've managed to keep low since Quincy was wiped. Nobody seems to know we're still around. We haven't seen any major action or attacks since then. Once we begin anti-Invid operations again, that's going to change."

"You're right, though, Dennis. We can't hide forever. The old Niemoller saying."

"'And then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out.'" Zinnert quoted. "We need to get back up to strength, though. Even with our seven former invalids and a couple new guys we're only a little over half our old manpower. I've seen them practicing though, getting back their skills. God, I wish we had a combat simulator."

"Sorry, us hicks lack a few necessities." Dennis scowled. Matthew's bearded face grinned. "So damn much fun making fun of you it hurts sometimes."

"I can imagine," Dennis drawled, annoyed.

Matt sobered. "Because there's not much left on the planet that's fun anymore."

A muffled rumble increased in volume over their heads. Both officers startled, then shrugged. The rumble became a boom, a screech and a sudden silence, broken by shouts and swearing.

"Must be Pierson's turn at Cyclone training." Dennis sighed. "Not the most gifted mecha pilot under the sun, for certain. Good markswoman though." Matthew nodded. "That lover of yours seems to have done a fair job of that at least."

"She's only had the ability to try the conversion process for a couple weeks. This," Ulm tapped the missive, covertly handed to him on a supply trip to neutral Rantoul by a contact, "is the first news we've gotten since you returned. A comset would've been nice."

"On my list."

"Do it. Yesterday, if you can. We need one."

Dennis nodded.

The engines on the upper level roared again, with similar cacophonic results. Ulm winced.

"I don't know about you, but that noise is beginning to give me a migraine. Let's get outside."

Dennis rose from his seat. "Best idea I've heard yet."

"Doubt the Invid have found any reason to go around here recently. Good reason to go fishing anyway."

Dennis made a face, as he wandered toward the garage exit. "Radioactive fish. Nice."

"No, crater's clean, so's the fish. Toximetered it. It's edible, and a damn good excuse for goofing off. I do wonder about Invid activity. No such animal here in this area. Don't know if that's a good or bad sign for us."

"Let's not get ridiculous. No Flowers," Dennis snorted. "No resistance activity. No detectable Protoculture activity. No population to enslave. Let's get the hell outside."

oooooooooooooooooooo

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii......

vhki-kiv!hki vthgu ee-iiiiiiiiii ki!ki!chqu' iiiiiiiiiiii kvth iwqu-hkiiiiiiiiiiiiii....vhki-kiv!h...

The litany trilled through her mind as the Iigiai and Torab to either side of her bounced response to response to response, a constant survey of the Earthen terrain they went over, quick as sound. It could be described as language only by the most extreme definition. It conveyed primitive impressions and decisions from one to the other neurons of the Hive, and as for the rest, it did not even touch the ears. Only the Malorosm and above were capable of the full range of expression. The rest did not need it. The Hive was one, and knew all a neuron knew.

Or had been, Oryo'i thought to herself, for once certain there was no secret observer of her thoughts. In the background of her mind, the high, monotone trill of the iigaari continued, countered by the slightly deeper protoconcepts of the gurab'pa. Of the entire seven Iigiai and four Torab, only she was able to observe as well as be part of the Hivesong.

Below her lay flyspecks of human dwellings, which she passed over in a instant. She knew the town already: she had been part of the division that had monitored the redirection of the humans within to a opredti farm. Shkud, for once, had been pleased with the results.

Two lunar cycles, she thought. She had been working that long to renew her image in Shkud's eyes, trying to escape this benighted, filthy world and its even more benighted, filthy populace with its occasional injections of T'sentrati and Tiresian foulness. From the time she had dropped from the Orbital Hive to the planetary surface and her new station, she had hated every nanosecond.

Ah, hate. Now that was an interesting if unpleasant feeling. Perhaps if she got the chance she ought to discuss it with her cohorts Miragai and Iagur, the other Solugi in her hive. They did not seem to be seeking her company, however. Perhaps Shkud had given them directions on her demotion via the Brain.

Clouds swirled around the dark-gray and vermillion Gamun, and for the slightest time her front viewport was sheathed in opaque white. It then dropped away as Oryo'i and her command burst out of it, trailing wisps behind them.

Far below, the land unscrolled. She scanned over it visually, noting the raw new green tint to the foliage that had erupted over the past half-lunar cycle. In the distance, to her right, a small round lake lay, reflecting the sun like a silvery optic.

Her pale brows suddenly crimped. What was that? Deferentially, she allowed the alien hail to her to enter her mind.

Hail, she murmured.

Greetings, Solugi Oryo'i. It wasn't Shkud, for certain. She ignored the thought and concentrated on her visitor. It was smooth and controlled as metal; that alone told her it wasn't her superior.

And to you, Kulagi Asaav. What do you wish?

To speak with you.

Oryo'i was surprised. A Kulagi ordinarily did not show an interest in a Solugi not under his or her command. For what, my lady?

I wish to tell you that not all of my brethren agree with Shkud's verdict. You made a mistake but it was a mistake with good intentions as regarding the Hive. Furthermore, my brother tends to...be presumptuous. I see devolving or demoting a subordinate with your particular talents to be unecessarily wasteful.

I was demoted, Lady Asaav. With good reason, your pardon.

Perhaps. Perhaps not. I wish to negotiate your return to your former

station.

Oryo'i was so surprised by this sudden proposal that the Gamun rocked a bit, prompting a brief change in the Hivesong around her. What? Your pardon.

This has gone on long enough. You have learned a lesson, if lesson it was, Solugi. The appropiate thing now is to resume your status. However, if I do negotiate your return to the Orbital Hives, I wish an exchange.

Yes?

You will, of course, deem it appropiate to do something that I want. I will see about your transfer as soon as I can. Please consider. Farewell.

The connection was broken, leaving Oryo'i to return to her hive bemused.

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.....

oooooooooooooooooooo

"Oh, shit, Invid! Stop everything!" Fred's voice boomed out of the newly functioning intercom, nearly scaring them out of their wits. Amanda screamed to a stop, leaving a smoking trail of rubber down the mall tiles. Gerald ran over and helped her switch the protoculture radiation off. They crouched down for several minutes of deathly quiet eternity, Gerald swearing in something that wasn't English. Back where Mandy's run had started, Kevin was down on the ground, his eyes closed in tension.

Finally, Fred said, "They passed overhead. It's all right, Gwen says. The bugs were in high-altitude and apparently on their way somewhere else. Too far away to detect anything." Gerald sagged in relief and got back up.

"God, I hate it when that happens." He rummaged around in the thigh pocket of his coveralls, his off-color hair glinting in the muggy light coming through the skylights. "Hope I didn't break it."

Amanda got for the briefest second a glimpse of something gold. "What the heck was that you were saying?"

"Good ol' Zentraedi, Zentran dialect. What it was you don't want to know. Learned it from someone I knew. Real bathroom mouth, but a great guy."

Kevin shakily got up. "Almost messed my pants when Fred started yelling like that. Worse than when Mandy tries to change modes."

Mandy gave him a raspberry, and the tension was broken.

oooooooooooooooooooo

And you don't know if it's fear or desire

Danger the drug that takes you higher

--U2, "So Cruel"

Kevin wandered back towards the showers, intent on cleaning up and getting ready for dinner. Trying to teach Amanda how to change modes was an exhausting job, and having that patrol pass overhead had not helped his mental stamina. Amanda seemed to think the Cyclone was out to eat her when the process started. She always forgot to stand up, which made for a pretty mess when the thing got snagged in between modes--not to mention all the bruises she accumulated.

Weariness aside, he kept an eye out, and his posture distinctly evolved a slink. Maybe he would be lucky.

He wasn't.

"Oh, hello, Kevin," Gwen said casually. There was the ever so slight suggestion of a purr to her voice. It reminded Kevin of the local cats when they had something to eat. "Nice to see you."

"Hi Gwen." He continued past her, looking for the shower door. He twitched when he felt the pressure of her hand on his shoulder. It seemed to burn all the way to the skin.

"Scary bit, wasn't it, hon?" she whispered.

"Uh...Yeah," he managed, trying not to let his breathing go too fast. He wanted out. Last time, she'd gotten far with him, way too far. How he'd managed to get out before--He wasn't supposed to be like that, he wasn't... But the sweat was already beginning to trickle down his back. So was her hand.

He whirled to push her away and actually found her up against him, which was triggering an entirely alarming and compelling set of instincts in his flesh.

"D--don't y-you k-know when to leave...me...alone?" He gulped, losing the fight with his breath and his rampaging heart. His will was beginning to go too.

"Why, Kevin?" The huge amber eyes gazed into the blue. "You can't really be gay, can you?" Her lips, five inches from his, parted and moved upward.

He stared at them, maddened. With a surge, he shoved her violently away and rear-first onto the floor, and dashed into the shower room. His body slammed against the other side, barricading it.

Gwen panted on the floor, wiping sweaty red hair out of her face, miserable. So much for trying, she thought. But the way he'd reacted, Gwen had seen before, usually in more successful and pleasurable scenarios.

"Maybe he's bi or something," she muttered. "Why hasn't he told his boyfriend yet, if he wants me gone?"

Limping, she got up, deciding that her infatuation aside it might be good to leave off. As she knew intimately well, jilted lovers in positions of power were a Bad Thing to cross. One of these days Kevin would spill the beans, and she'd be an ex-Elm pretty damn quick. No matter her shooting skills.

Her fist slammed down on her thigh. But she had been so danged close! Tears of frustration beaded in her eyes as she left.

Back behind the door, Kevin crouched on the floor, one shaking hand before his own.

oooooooooooooooooooo

The next day, Mandy wearily unhelmeted. It had been a long day. First, she had drawn PK detail and had to help Malcolm take care of breakfast for the increasing population of the mall, then she had spent another two hours doing target practice with a UV-light practice H-90, then after some of the newcomers were done, had spent a few more hours roaring up and down the mall corridors, trying to learn how to cleanly switch modes on her Forager. Nonetheless, her soul was singing with triumph.

I did it! I DID it!

She remembered what it'd been like; how at long last she'd not panicked and managed to stand just as the Cyclone suddenly rocketed upward toward the ceiling and as the front farings had whipped up and connected with her CVR chest plating. She had almost wet her pants when she felt the shift in weight as the wheels and seat had locked into position on her back almost instantaneously. Before Amanda had hit the ground, she had gone from riding a motorcycle to wearing one.

The sensation was like being painlessly eaten alive by a metal origami--origami something-or-other, anyway. She couldn't decide which of Shiroikiku's collection suited.

Gerald had made her do it several more times after that. And she had. Successfully. Within an hour she was doing some low-grade hovering and flying within the center court of the mall. He had sucked on his lip, shook his shaggy head, and smiled a bit bemusedly.

"I don't believe it, but you seem to've gotten the knack. Guess it all decided to fall in place at once."

She laughed in delight, hovering ten feet above his head.

"Come down now and get out of that thing. You might attract the Invid if you go for much longer."

I have got to tell Matthew about this! She half-ran down to the women's room, disarmoring and unzipping the suit to reveal her sweat-soaked coveralls on the way.

Shiroikiku had just gotten off security duty and was lounging on her bed, wading through the pages of a Glenn Cook paperback. She looked up as Amanda entered; the contrast between her scalding blue-and-pink hairdye and the dead black of the spread she had found was a thing to behold.

"Sherry, where's Matt? I've just managed to shift modes. I need to tell him I wasn't a total loss."

Sherry grinned and gave her a thumbs up. "We'll make a good little soldier out of you one of these days. I think he's out fishing at the hole in the ground."

"The crater? Okay. You think it's safe enough to go after him?" She began shuffling through a chest of drawers for her clothing.

"Should be if he went down there, the Invid scare yesterday regardless. His intuition's pretty good on this sort of thing, no matter what El Anallo thinks." She winked. "Be back by dogfood time."

Mandy was already out of her dirty coverall and into a clean one, and was transferring various precious objects to the numerous pockets on it. "Gotcha. I want to actually get outside." Sherry grinned and watched her.

"I know. It's gorgeous." Amanda groaned in a-don't-remind-me tone and was out the doorway. Sherry noticed in passing how even the filthy coverall was folded neatly and placed on a chair, and the millitary neatness of Mandy's green-and-yellow bedspread. She found it amusing. During her short tenure with the Robotech Expeditionary Force Jupiter Group, Sherry had been continually upbraided for living conditions that had looked at best like something a Karbarran might have liked--that is, if the Karbarran had acted as bestial as he had looked. At worst, Shiroikiku Doi's quarters were nothing short of catastrophic.

A couple of minutes later, Malcolm poked his head inside. "Hey babe." She batted her eyes coyly at him. "Didn't I see Hell's Daffodil just run for the hills?"

"Yep. She went to see the Lieutenant." Malcolm sucked in a breath.

"Uh-oh."

"What?"

"O'Shea went after him too." Sherry sucked on her lips as the implications became clear.

"Oopsie. You think they might be doing a little tete-a-tete?" Malcolm shrugged.

"Maybe, maybe not. She might be in for a shock, though."

"Well, it's not like it's not anything unlike what she knows we've been doing." She winked and wriggled against the covers provocatively. Malcolm wolf-whistled, then tutted.

"No no no, Dinner's cooking, no distracting the chef."

"Damn!"

"Maybe tonight."

"Certainly hope they're not up to anything. She's not that openminded."

oooooooooooooooooooo

Mandy wheeled her Cyclone through the phantasmagoria of spring vegetation mixed with building shells, a huge grin on her face as she sniffed the air. She tilted her head as she heard birdsong and recognized it. Dolza's devastation and the wars nonwithstanding, the common robin seemed indestructible.

Her smile faded and she touched the scar on her cheek and felt the wobbliness in one ankle. So had her home, her baby sister, her father. The feeling had been in the town of her birth that if they were inoffensive enough, the Invid would ignore them. Although the Invid had arrived for the first time when she was eight, for most of her life they had been distant monsters, the stuff of bedtime nightmares. It had all changed that horrible day last November. Now the fact that this time last year they had begun to tear up the garden to prepare for planting was as dead as her former life.

She sighed and looked up, green eyes blinking, The cerulean sky of afternoon, still beautiful, was now poignantly sad.

Up ahead was Ulm's favorite fishing spot, and through the newly leaved shrubbery of the margin she could see the metallic glint of water. She hadn't thought a body of water that new could contain life, but Ulm said it was surprising what waterfowl brought in on their feet, especially over thirty-four years.

She could also hear soft voices. She was upon them before she realized who they were. At that same time, her CVR boot smacked against a hidden piece of rubble.

The conversers whirled or sat up, eyes wide, then relaxed.

"Hey, there," Matthew said. "Come join the party."

"I was going to ask that," she said sheepishly. She made her way through the last glassy ruins and into the clearing. "Is it safe?"

"Er, what do you--" Matthew began, then began to chuckle as the pink tint washed up her cheeks. "No, nothing of the sort is going on, I assure you."

Kevin, lying on the ruins of a wall, looked up, smiled and waved.

Matthew was seated Indian-fashion next to a young maple, attention on his fishing rod, and he was in a prime position to see the young woman walk into their spot.

And that was what she was, he realized with a bit of surprise. Looking at the stride, the posture, the gaze, and the face, it was obvious she'd matured over the past few months. He had found a frightened girl. Perhaps he'd only found the last dying shreds of a child that had been torn apart by the massacre and that had run, mortally wounded. Or perhaps her experience with the Elms had altered her, but she had crossed that breath-thin, indefinable line that had separated child from adult.

Now, he thought, I've got to see that the young woman can make it through this war.

Out loud, he said, "Have a seat."

"Sure." She propped her mecha and sat down on the wall, looking out over the

lake.

"Sun," Kevin sighed. "God, I missed it. I need a tan. I'm so pale I look damn near dead." Mandy nodded.

"I just get more freckles. It's disgusting."

"It's cute," Matthew said.

"No it isn't." Matthew rolled his eyes and grinned, his russet hair standing up in spikes thanks to the breeze, except for the bald spot on top.

"Hey, you know what?" Mandy suddenly said. "I finally changed modes without splattering myself all over the Bergner's storefront. That's what I came out here for, actually. I thought you guys needed to know the time wasn't wasted on me."

"I'll get the champagne."

"Matt, you yourself said that after three decades it was going to taste like cat--"

"Figuratively, Kev. Congraulations, Mandy. If you keep up, you'll probably in the front line with the rest in August. Whether that's a reward is up to debate."

"Maybe sooner. I've got the bit on flying."

"Quick. But as Kevin will tell you and as you probably found out at Quincy, practice isn't exactly like the real thing. You have room for error in practice, but in battle one decision can mean the difference between being alive and being a corpse. Believe it or not, I've got an interest in keeping you and the others alive."

"Yeah. I know, Matt. Thanks." She sat a while, braiding the hair out of her face, feeling the breeze from over the lake lift the rest into a sunny mess. For all that it had been conceived in horror, fire, and disaster, it was a somber, peacefully quiet place, and with two people she trusted the feeling was amplified. A thought hit her. "Matthew--uh, Lieutenant Ulm?"

"Hmm?"

"Why--why do you run the Elms ah, well, why don't you--"

"Turn the place into a little Gestapo gang the way all good millitary outposts should be?" he asked wryly. She was embarassed, but he looked thoughtful and after a second said, "You know, that's a very good question. Why do I?...

"I suppose a lot of it has to do with my experiences in the Southern Cross, to be frank." He tried to smooth down his hair with little success. "That army was so hierarchical, and so corrupt, it virtually had the seeds of its own destruction in it. I was a Valk flier, and I saw far too much of the crap that went down there. Between Leonard needlessly sacrificing troops to satisfy his hate for aliens, the personal agendas each segment of the army had out for other segments, the bureaucracy, and the total inflexibility of the command structure--well, small wonder there wasn't anything left after the Masters. We couldn't have thrown spitballs against the Invid to save our lives." He sighed. "The only leader in the lot worth anything was Emerson. If he'd survived, who knows?..."

"Dennis said something like this can't work."

"Dennis is full of it," Kevin snapped.

"Easy, she's asking a legit question. And never mind Lieutenant Zinnert, he simply comes from a different school of belief and thought than I do. In his own mind, he thinks he's doing things correctly.

"But the bit about the running things... Actually, it can and had worked. The German Bundeswehr--the People's Army--of the late twentieth century granted quite a lot of personal initative to soldiers in an effort to avoid the kind of mistakes made with the Nazis earlier. And they did it effectively. So it isn't impossible to do. And that's why I'm still here. I suppose I could've rejoined the REF and the Icarus mission, but I see too much of exactly the same thing there, and all the weaknesses they have. I think our way has a better chance against the occupying forces."

Matthew often made references that her limited education had not prepared her for, but she knew full well her limits and managed to get the gist.

"So it can work, you mean?"

"That's what I said. I personally believe that if you respect the intelligence of your suobordinates--they can help you in ways a hierarchical command structure won't let its soldiers help. Plus, they'll respect you the more for it. And frankly, none of you are stupid."

"Speak for youself," she sighed. "I feel stupid, most of the time."

"You ain't," Kevin murmured, his heavy field boots hanging over the end of the wall. "Trust me on that. Just because you never got past the sixth grade's got nothing to do with not having any brains to work with. And you've got lots. Heck, you could ask Miranda and she'd probably be glad to teach you."

"You know," Ulm said, "that sounds like a pretty good idea...." He slowly reeled the line back in and prepared for another cast.

Mandy looked down the wall towards Kevin's end. Her forehead crimped. "Kevin, are you all right?"

"Wha--? Sure I am. Why do you ask?"

Amanda was visually getting a different story. Something was drastically changed with his attitude. He did not at all look or act well, and the usual irrepressible demeanor was gone.

"Look, are you sure? You look awful. How much sleep did you get last night, and were you buried and dug up somewhere in there?"

"Mandy, I'm fine."

Amanda sighed, reached over, and patted what portion of his head she could reach. "I'm just worried about you, Kevin. You don't look so good. Besides, it's been half a year and I've never seen you like this before." Kevin shrugged as much as he could lying down.

"It's personal problems, Mandy," Ulm quietly told her. "Nothing that can't be taken care of on his own. He's just going through a rough spot."

"Ah," Mandy said quietly. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Kevin said.

"Can I ask what?" He shook his head. The light shattered off the lakewater and glistened off his black hair.

"It's kind of private. The only person that really needs to know is Matthew."

"Oh--" she started, putting two and two together. "I can leave--"

"Oh, sit down. You're not interrupting anything that can't be later resumed. Besides, we like you."

Mandy sighed in relief. For a long while, nothing was said, as the sun slipped towards their backs and the light gradually grew yellower. She inspected the newly sprouting plants by her armored feet .

"Heyyy, look at that."

Kevin's head popped up. "Look at what?"

"Oh, just the first dandelions I've seen this year. You don't need to get up. I just kind of like them."

Kevin's head had dropped back down but he rotated it towards the direction she was facing. "Huh, you're right. There's a few little yellow flowers there."

"Dad always used to say they were weeds. But I liked them anyway." Her voice grew dreamy. "They looked so pretty on spring mornings, and when they went white I always liked blowing them around as a little kid."

Ulm made a grunt. "Who didn't?" He concentrated on his line. A couple of ducks whirred overhead, quacking noisily.

"My elementary school had a bunch of old books, printed in the '80s or '90s, and I read how dandelion roots could go down twenty feet and grow in the darndest places. You could try and rip them up, but they'd always grow back, and then they'd spread all over the place and never be completely wiped out." She smoothed down her hair, looking over the lake whose creation had killed thousands of living beings. She continued. "It probably sounds really goofy, but I always kind of thought that they were kind of like the people here, on this planet. It sounds completely conceited. We almost did get wiped out, after all."

There was no immediate answer from the two men, then Ulm said slowly, "No, I don't think so, hon. I've seen some amazing things happen in my life, and your metaphor seems to fit.

"Although I don't know about this time around."

"Er, what time is it?" Kevin mumbled all of a sudden.

Matthew looked down at his watch and snorted. "1720. I think we need to get back. Damn, no bites today."

Three weeks later, May 2045

"Hunting detail again," Matthew sighed, examining his lures. "I hate it," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Kevin groaned.

"Welllll, it does say on the chart we're next up. Guess Zinnert doens't trust the lake fish all that much."

"True. And, of course, he's right when he notes that in the next couple of weeks we're beginning operations again. It's just gotten too hairy recently for us to keep low any longer."

Kevin sighed, and keeled over on his bed, with its arrangement of almost unreally clashing sheets and spread. He stuck the pillow over his head.

"Any more news?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"The radius of attacked towns is growing. Too fast. They managed to free the people of Paducah at last, but the Shenandoah Boyz, the Sluggers, and the James Gang took pretty heavy losses. We've gotten back up to better than the strength we were before Quincy, so we're going to have to take up some of the slack the other gangs left and keep hitting at the enemy for them until they recover. God forbid that the Invid start thinking we're not going to scream if they decide to march in... And to do that, we need enough venison jerky, pemmican, and other rations to get out onto the field with." Ulm paused. "I truly wish to God I knew why of all times, the Invid are deciding to start in on us now. In a perverse way, I'm hoping it's because they got scared from us, but with those hives orbiting? Yeah, right."

Kevin had removed the pillow, and he was staring up at the ceiling. "I've no idea. Doesn't at all seem like the usual M.O. And I've been wondering about it for years. The fact that only now they're starting in on the prior occupation stuff makes it only the more bizarre."

Matthew slumped over on his chair. "And here I thought you'd have some bright ideas." He looked down at his flies, then shoved them back into his tackle box, then shut and pushed it underneath his drum-tight dark-blue bed.

"Nope. Afraid not. I'm as in the dark as you, mon freur."

Kevin rolled over and picked up one of the miscellaneous items he'd collected on his bedside drawers, then began idly toying with it. He stared down at the gleaming red and white stripes of the die-cast Valkyrie as he began to shift it through to Gerwalk mode. Once done, he set it back on the table, where the lamplight glinted off the five-inch high model, and stared at it for a long while.

"You got that in the toy store last week, didn't you?"

Kevin roused himself, then nodded. "As I told you sixteen hundred times earlier. This is a first-generation model, right?"

Matthew stared down at the ground, then nodded. "Yeah...it was. It was." He sighed heavily.

"That was the commemorative model made to celebrate the SDF-1's launch. I remember begging my mother and bawling my eyes out because she wouldn't buy that same toy for me. I especially remember it because two days later I saw on the news the launch--and the Zentraedi arriving." He paused then for a very long time, as he watched the agile hands of the younger man reconfigure it back into the shape of a foot-high red-and-white robot. "So much water under the bridge since then...and now I see you of all people messing with it. That's what started me thinking..."

"Lieutenant?" Kevin asked quietly. Matthew startled; Kevin very rarely used his title. The scout's blue eyes were gray with worry as he looked over. Matthew smiled, and gently punched him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Kevin, just the recollections of a middle-aged going on old fart going here."

He rose to his feet. "We've got to get our equipment together. D'you know of anyone free we can bring for some extra firepower?"

Kevin grinned hugely, as he rose, setting the model back to its old home. "Well, let's see, according to the list, there's... What about our favorite mascot?"

"Mandy again?"

"Hey, the girl can shoot, and she's more or less free duty-wise that slot. Thank heaven we've got some more people to share the work. I can think of less suitable people--if you know what I mean." The grin dribbled away and his voice dropped. "Speaking of which, I think the interest has dropped off."

"Good."

"Well, let's go outside and get some food and pop the question."

oooooooooooooooooooo

"Yes! I get to go with you two?"

Matthew smiled. "Oh course."

Mandy certainly didn't seem annoyed by the prospect. Kevin smiled and dug into his serving of fish and ramen noodles as he watched the other two talk in the day's unofficial mess area. Due to the glorious weather outside, they were seated near one entrance on the benches there, with the doors flung wide to the outside and letting in the fresh air. One of the local cats stalked nearby and past them. While not tolerating human contact, the animals had pulled something of a truce with the Elms, what with all the food for free.

Somebody'd also brought their new/thirty-five year-old stereo player into the entranceway, and something from a classic CD, The Downward Spiral, was vibrating the glass. It had to be Shiroikiku's choice--only she played music like that at that sort of volume. He could catch her psychedelic hair out of the corner of one eye and her loud hoot as she shared a joke with Gerald. Yep, something about "--baka didn't even get through her thick skull the pig was actually a guy. Imagine what her reaction's gonna be like later..." Gerald was laughing uproariously. She'd apparently managed to convert him to her personal anime cult of three.

Several of the other Elms that were not on duty were also there, enjoying the breeze and eating lunch. One of them was Gwen. She studiously ignored him and the Lieutenant.

Hmmm, he thought. Very interesting. She's kept clear of me recently. I think maybe that veiled remark Matt dropped her a couple weeks ago told her to ease off. He said she turned dead white and right after that kept away.

He sighed. He could feel another emotion contrasting a little with the generalized sensation of relief. He prodded at it.

Regret? Uh-oh...

The terrible feeling was that what she'd almost accomplished with him had done things to him that still...burned.

No. I can't be like that. No... Biting his lip, he turned his attention back on the others.

"...Well, you know the situation with us and why we need it, so we need to get a lot of meat fairly soon so we can start operations by the appointed time. We've already taken a lot of time to get back on our feet, Mandy. Maybe too much, I'll grant Dennis that. Your arrival was only the beginning of the current situation. Once we start making hits again...we will no longer have the luxuries we've had here before. So it's now or never."

Mandy tucked up her knees and looked thoughtful. "How long will this take?"

"No more than three days. Everything on fusion, and we'll be using conventional weapons to hunt with. Of course, we're going to be taking along the H-90s and a full payload for the Cyclones--that recent Invid flyover may mean we might get surprises both here and where we'll be. If not Invid, maybe Inorganics."

"...Yike."

"Yep. Believe it or not, you're one of the more competent markspersons, so we're going to make you useful. I don't know when you're going to be fully functional on the Forager yet, so this is your chance to shine."

Mandy nodded and yanked on a braid. "Gotcha, Matthew. We're going tomorrow?

Ulm nodded.

"Zinnert's in command then. The rest will be able to hold down the fort for a lousy couple days."

Amanda finished off the last scraps of her food, then said slowly, "Lieutenant--what if we do get 'surprises'?"

Kevin shrugged and answered for him. "Not very likely. How much attention do you think a couple or three humans running on fusion is going to draw?"

She looked thoughtful. "Putting it logically, as Miranda likes to say when she grills me on my readings on philosophy, not a whole lot. But you've got to understand," she said, looking from one to the other earnestly, "I know firsthand that logic said the Invid wouldn't take interest in a lousy little neutral town either." She looked down. "Well, you both know logic lied, or I wouldn't be here."

"I know, hon. But it's not that likely. Start packing your goodies--we're probably going to leave at 0600 tomorow."

And I sure hope logic stays truthful this time, Kevin thought. Because everything else logical is going down in flames.