Robotech: Pyrrhic Wardance
- A Sentinels-MOSPEADA Serial
Chapter Three: Mission Preparations
By SithKnight-Galen
SK-G: Yes, here I am with another disclaimer and series of babblings by me, the great muse of this long-winded epic in the making. First, let me say I do not own Robotech or any of its affiliates. Although, I would not mind having my name on the copyright patents for the Cyclone, they are not mine. They belong to Carl Macek and all those moneybags in secret locations around the world. Ahh well.
Second point, please people, how will I know if this is even worth the effort, the blood (just look at the nubs that were once fingers), the tears (like when I lost the fourth chapter pre-write or the original character list was eaten by my hard drive), the time, and effort (Just ask my friends). Therefore, I call upon you, loyal readers of fan-fiction everywhere, please post your reviews, comments, and flames. Besides, right now we can use all the heat we can get where I am at. Ice and sleet are not your friends. They lie, they aren't..
Now, on with the Story! **Enter Macross Saga Opening Theme**
*********
Ryan Darmouth was not a person who personally enjoyed waiting until the last minute make sure that everything was ready to go at Zero hour. He had learned from hard experience that one could never have enough preparations when planning a critical operation like the one that he had slated for his people the day before. He had pretty much made his selections as far as his people and resources were concerned almost as soon as he was given the numbers he had to play with, but he wasn't so sure that he could say the same thing for his naval counterparts. He knew that the Diamondbacks were a top-flight unit, as least based upon their reputation, but he had never recalled actually working with them directly. He knew that they had a history as extensive as the Skull, Ghost, and Wolf Pack Squadrons, but that was talk in his mind. At least until he had seen them in action. Marc and Tony both said that transport crew were one of the best, though, so that was one less thing that he had to worry too much about.
He continued on his way, lost in thought as he went over munitions, logistics, and personnel checks. He was still curious as to whether or not the brainiacs over at R&D had cooked up some micronized version of the infamous "Vindicator Cloaking Devices" that were being installed on some of the Veritech Fighters. He remembered how they had tried it once before, with the 38th ATAC being the testbed unit for it, and that had far less than desirable results, from the after-action reports that he had viewed, and the wreckage of most of the command platoon that he helped to dig out and identify from Renauld. He really hoped that the labrats had made some significant improvements since that time.
'Well, the Cykes are all being looked over now, the team has already gotten the head's up……all the personal gear is being loaded onto the transports within the next two or three hours, and everyone one doesn't have to worry about going over final check outs on the new systems that we are supposed to be carrying in for the next couple hours. Mission objectives seem simple enough, but why do I have a feeling that this kind of thing is never as simple as Command likes to make it sound. Crap, I am just worrying myself into an early grave. I know that the team is ready, I just need to find something to distract me for a bit, I guess.'
Makes a left turn in the corridor in the Armored Company's territory, nodding to the few officers and enlisted men that he passes, giving out the obligatory salutes as needed, his mind now on a new destination. His naturally quick pace soon has him in the general common recreation area of the ship, and he enters the Gymnasium. Ryan quickly and efficiently changes into a workout outfit consisting of a black sleeveless bodysuit and weighted gloves and fighting boots. He then goes to the min dance studios/dojos and enters his favorite one. He is surprised to see that he is not alone, but a knowing smile covers his shock very quickly.
"I figured you would be here sooner or later."
"Oh, am I that predictable, Doctor?"
"That depends, Major, " Doctor Abraham Zhao responded quietly with more than a hint of wry humor even as he finished another Tai-chi kata. "I have noticed that this seems to be your retreat anytime we have to get prepped for a particularly hairy mission. Although my being here now is purely coincidental, I assure you."
"Humph, I bet it is, Abe. You or Marc or Tony always seem to pop yourselves into my practice sessions. Not that I am that surprised from you three, though. So what is on your mind?" Darmouth falls into one of his own warm-up katas of more rapid kicks, punches, spins and weaves. "And just how much am I going to like this?,' he added to himself. They were always doing this, as if they were afraid to leave him alone or something before missions, especially after what happened on that last operation for REF Intelligence in the EBSIS. Although that had happened over five years ago, and Ryan himself had come to terms with his loss, the three musketeers couldn't seem to, or didn't think that he could. At least Corps did look out for the Corps.
"Well, actually I was kind of looking for a sparring partner, truth be known. I know that you are one of the few people aboard that can give me a run for my money, and well, this mission has me a bit …..disturbed for some reason," Abe quipped, laughing slightly sheepishly as he went over to one of the two black duffle bags against the far wall.
"Well, then obviously you do know me after all, Doctor Zhao. So, oh masterful one, which treatment will you be administering to me today, good old fisticuffs, blunt stick beat-downs or we get funky and play with the practice CADS?"
Ryan catches the Bokken tossed his way with a smirk, debates about whether to don his full protective gear, and then discards the idea as he tightens up the laces to his gloves and his bandana. He then watches the field surgeon walk onto the mats in the center of the three walled room, donning forearm protective pads and wielding a practice sword of his own. The other man made a few practice cuts with his blade, each one timed and measured perfectly. While Darmouth was no slouch in the various arts of warfare, he honestly felt that he had to constantly strive to push himself beyond himself when dealing with the quiet and seemingly un-assuming medico. Testing the weight of the blade first with his left hand, then switching to his off-hand and finding it to his satisfaction, the military specialist steps forward onto the mat himself.
"Ready, old cantankerous one?"
"Hai, Grasshopper."
With that, the slender, albeit quick Asian man moves quickly forward, and almost before Darmouth can react, goes into a series of very fast, fluid and aggressive strikes. Fortunately, for the moment at least, they were also fairly readable and blockable. Darmouth blocked the initial barrage, and then launched a counter-attack of his own, stepping up the tempo just a beat. Zhao then tried for a close in attack, and surprised Darmouth by doing a quick knee-kick push away combination on him that pushed Ryan back a few steps, but not before he was able to connect with the doctor's arm.
'Heh. Too easy…he must be slipping in his .' "Uhhnnn!"
Ryan's mental congratulations were short lived as Zhao spun down and out with his right leg, sweeping Darmouth's legs out from under him before could react to the change in tactics. Ryan's breath was knocked out of him as he thumped to the ground in spite of the matting. The saracen man blinked back the stars and then went wide-eyed as he rolled his head away from the follow up strike that yanked off his bandana. Spinning his own leg up and around, he gave the other man a good mule kick to the gut as he picked himself back up, rolling away to gain some breathing room.
"I see you are finally getting back into that combined arms fighting I hammer into you."
"Well, I was under the impression that this was a honorable match, Abe-san."
"You mean before a crowd, you know I have to put on a good show."
Darmouth then realized what Zhao meant when he caught movement from the side of the room, and realized belatedly that they fourth wall was actually open aired to allow viewing down to the pool and aerobic rooms below and that they had indeed picked up a bit of a crowd. Well, if a show was what they wanted, it seemed that they had to please. Then he saw HER. What the hell was she doing here? Ryan was so distracted that he almost missed the first two strikes Abe threw his way before he re-gained his composure and focus on the fight at hand, but not before he took a pair of solid strikes to his ribs that he knew were going to leave marks.
'Focus, don't even worry about HER right now!'
Gritting his teeth as he was slowly being backed up, the Military Specialist decided to start fighting back before he lost this match completely. Switching to one of his old forms from his childhood Fencing School, he flipped the Bokken around and bounced onto the balls of his feet, switching his profile into something smaller as he swatted aside the asian man's blade. He then followed up with a series of 10-2 strikes to push his opponent back. Zhao, caught momentarily flatfooted, did not see the
lightning quick sidekick come up to connect with his chin until he was already reeling backwards from it, and Darmouth's blade was already striking at his now exposed throat. Out of desperation, Abe brought his blade inside and under Ryan's outstretched arms and thrust his own blade across his friend's chest to where both blades made contact with their targets at the same point. Both men paused for a moment, and looked at the placement of the stopped blades, and then their own bodies. With nothing better to do, they both began to chuckle as some of the people in the assembled audience began to clap and give out low calls of amazement.
"So,..umm, do we call this one a draw, Major?"
"That sounds like a plan, Doc." Ryan quipped with a smile, even though his eyes were on something else entirely.
Abe glanced past the milling crowd to see what had caused his CO that kind of distraction in the middle of a match, and his eyes focused down on the pool below, and the slender woman with the fiery red hair getting out of the pool, and his own countenance darkened noticeably as he glanced back over to Ryan.
'Aww, man, not her…I thought he was over her…' the doctor thought, recognizing the signs and hoping he could head off that storm before it broke. Perhaps it was time to steer the boss away from that particular sore point."Want to go at it again, Ryan? Practice with the CADs, perhaps?"
"Umm, I don't think I can right now…Umm, something's come up..," Ryan remarked absently as he was already moving towards the pool area. He moved thru the crowd, tossing the practice sword behind him and leaping down the overhanging walkway to the pool area below.
Abe turned and watch and saw that the woman had seen Ryan as well, and after scowling for a moment, seemed to reset a mask onto her lovely face and was now hurrying off to the women's changing area. So much for distracting their fearless leader. Marc and Tony were going to have his hide when they found out about this. Sighing, he collected the practice weapons and the bags. Why did it always have to be about a woman? At least she wouldn't be on the mission, so Ryan could focus on that instead of his past mistakes. Hopefully.
**********
While Ryan really was not expecting to run into her, he figured that it was going to happen eventually, actually, since he had followed her career for the last few months from a distance, he still wasn't prepared for it. Ever since the fall-out, they had been avoiding each other like the plague, and he thought that was the status quo as she had wanted it. That was what she claimed, even though he wanted the chance to make it right. His old man had warned him about getting involved with a military woman with her kind of background, especially during wartime, but he was always one that had to learn these kinds of lessons the hard way. He only wished that there was some way that he could make right the unforgivable wrong that she perceived that had done to her. Call him hopeless, but Ryan felt that, if given the chance, he could still correct his past errors and get things back to good. However, he realized, it was going to be hard to do if she was going to keep running from him and never returning his communiqués. Even now it took him a good minute and a half to catch up to her, and oddly he was already out of breath despite the short sprint.
"Angelina!" He called into the Women's locker room as he spun around while trying to catch his breath.
"What do you want, Ryan?," a controlled, yet slightly angry voice came from behind and to the right of him, making Darmouth jump slightly, then wince at his own nervousness. He turned to the voice and took in the sight of Angelina Spencer. She still looked the same as he remembered her to be, even though he did notice what looked like a bruise on the base of her collarbone and some shadows under her eyes. That was when he noticed her eyes again. They were no longer the soft brownish-green hue he fondly recalled staring into on so many occasions, but were hardened ambers attempting to bore thru him.
"I..I wanted to talk, to apologize for what happened, Angie."
"So you chased me into a women's changing room to apologize. Wasn't flooding my answering machine and the cards and other stuff enough? I thought that you agreed to leave me alone? Don't you understand, I said it was over!" Angelina's glare turned a few shades colder and more bitter.
"Yeah, you said it was over without even giving me a chance to explain, or even try to prove that it wasn't me. After all, who was the one who said that I did that, your fath…"
Spencer exploded, moving up to within inches of contrite army officer.
"Do not bring my father into this! This is about you and me, not him!"
"Wrong, dead wrong, Angie," Ryan bit back coldly, his own temper beginning to come to the surface. You know he had every reason to hate me from word go and you and me both know that he would do anything and everything in his power to make me the bad guy."
"Bull, and we both know it Ryan. You were going to let him die just to save your own pride. And then there was us. And even now you are trying to punish me. But that is the past and dead now. Let it stay there, Ryan. Just go away, please."
The naval officer crossed her arms, but stood her ground. She had gone a bit red between dealing with this confrontation that she was dreading since she found out that Darmouth had been posted on THIS ship and the heat of the room. Thoughts of the past also has surfaced in spite of her best efforts, and she really didn't want to be reminded of them now when she was trying to get focused on the mission ahead. At least the biggest mistake of her life wouldn't be along for the ride. Ryan was attached to Operations Command after all, and they rarely sent their officers into the field.
Darmouth's eyes narrowed to slits momentarily as he felt a rush of impotent hostility wash over him. He pushed it down to the pit of his stomach with savage determination. He wanted to have this out, he needed to have this out, but once more, he felt as if he had backed himself into the proverbial corner with this woman. However, he had already committed to this course of action, and if this mission did go afoul, then this may be the last time to find out what he had done so wrong, how he had screwed up the best thing in his life so badly.
"And why do you want me to go away? Will that make it easier for you to forget me, or what we were together? You were the best thing to happen to me, and your leaving did more damage than any Invid plasma bolt ever could. Why can't you just be straight up with me here? You claim that I was never wanting to hear your side of things, well here I am now …….Tell me, why do you hate me so much?"
" I tried to tell you, and you didn't listen then, so why should I believe that you could change even now?," Angie shot back lowly, her voice perfectly controlled, but a hint of the deep hurt she felt still dripping past her barriers. "You are still acting like you can change the world and control me and everything around you. Don't you get it, when I said I wanted out, I meant it then, and I do now. There is nothing else to talk about, now get out!"
At this point those light brown orbs were beginning to go green alright, but that was kind of dangerous considering the tears were not ones of joy. Of rage or grief, Ryan wasn't exactly sure, but he had a good feeling it was mixture of both. The tears brimming in her eyes and that scowl on her face was too much for him, and he did the only thing his mind was allowing him to do, retreat. He wanted to sweep her into his arms, he wanted to beg for her forgiveness for any wrong-doings he had done, he wanted to walk into a squadron of Invid Pincers not caring about the results, but the one thing he didn't want, to cause her yet more pain, seemed to be the only thing that he was capable of.
"Fine….I'll go, " the decorated officer said in a low, humble voice that only hinted at his own pain. "But this is not over yet, for either of us. I will prove to you that I love you, and will never hurt you…and even if you don't love me anymore, that I will always be there for you."
'Unless of course we all get pasted on Optera…NO!!…Even the entire Invid horde cannot keep me from you!'
He turned and walked out with slumped shoulders and a hung head. At the door, he paused and turned, noticing that she was still watching him, her glasses now on and her face not quite as hard as when they were in each other's faces. She looked like she was broken down more than anything and it took everything in Darmouth's power not to sweep her into his arms, to protect her from herself at this point.
"Just remember this, though, I am only leaving this for now because you ask me to, but you do mean everything to me, and I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes."
He then walked out, leaving those words echoing along the now deserted shower area. Angelina stared at the door for a few moments, blinked away the tears and gathering her things. She tried to push Ryan to the back of her mind, but it wasn't much use. He had ruined her mood with just his presence, and while she loved him dearly, part of her right now wanted nothing more than for him to walk out an airlock without a vac-suit. She had a mission to plan for, and didn't need him back in her life complicating matters. She walked into the showers and jumped under the tension releasing waterfall.
'Why now, and why him……does he even care what he is doing to me by even trying to be around me… I know that he is trying to be sincere in his own way, but how do I know that he is not playing on my heartstrings yet again…could even afford to let him get close enough to hurt me again? Do I want him to get that close again? Why can't I get him out of my system, even after all the grief that we caused each other? Curse him, why can't he just go away and leave alone?'
Spencer then left the shower, feeling physically better after her aquatic workout and cool-off, but still roiling emotionally. She got dressed into her normal REF issue shipboard wear, the under flightsuit, and then headed back to the pilot's area and the hangers, slinging her workout bag over her shoulder. She smiled to a few fellow pilots when she had to, and saluted primly to the few senior officers that she had passed by, but kept to herself for the most part. She got to the amidships main shaft hangers, and entered them like she owned the place. She was hoping that her fighter was repaired, but feared that it would probably never fly again after the belly-flopping and near gutting it took on the planet below. Hopefully, losing her wingman, getting busted up in that awful crash, and running for her life from Invid for almost three hours before being picked up by the destroid unit that, ironically, she was supposed to be flying cover for, were really all worth it. That was not exactly an experience that she wanted to repeat anytime this lifetime.
The fire maned woman walked straight over to her fighter, and walked slowly around it, petting it lovingly in the process. Surprisingly, her boat was going to be able to touch the sky again, even after the extensive pounding that it had taken. There were a series of plasma-induced pockmarks running from just behind the nosecone all the way to just aft of the pilot's compartment. As she inspected that damage closer, Angie realized just how lucky she was. She looked thru the hole that one of the said plasma blasts had created just under her canopy., and realized just how lucky she truly was. In her mind's eye, she could see that the trajectories of at least four of the blasts should have come through the cockpit and her body. The one she was looking at should have decapitated her by itself. She poked her hand thru it cautiously, as if she would be bitten by something on the other side. Whistling lowly to herself just loud enough for the techs who were working on her Veritech to take a notice. Angie herself did not really acknowledge them, being so absorbed in her mecha's condition. She was at the aft of her ship, examining the extensive repair work that had already been done on the legs/thrusters and Beta connecting joints when the senior officers to her fighter wing entered.
"Well, well would you look at that….the final days must really be upon us, because I see that the dead truly do walk amongst us once more," quipped Craig Martin as he dabbed his youthful face one more time with the towel draped over his shoulders.
At that Captain Derringer smiled knowingly at his XO, the third VT pilot with them suddenly giving the two senior officers a bemused look as his brown-blond eyebrow raised up.
"What's up chief?" Lieutenant j.g . Johnny Whetstone asked with just a bit of trepidation in his voice. He may not have been a member of the Diamondbacks, a recent replacement from Colonel Wolfe's infamous Wolfpack when they folded back to Earth space, but he did recognize when someone was about get some bad news, and that look in both of his commander's eyes seemed to confirm it. "What are you two planning?"
"Well," began Brandon, still looking at the Alpha pilot and her ragged looking craft. "We were trying to figure out who to fill the last slot on the flight roster, and well, you need a new Alpha-mate since you seemed to have just burned through your third one. And it seems that Lieutenant Spencer there lost her Beta-wingmate, so guess who's getting assigned to each other for this mission?"
"You are joking, aren't you? She's an "Ice Queen", sir."
"I think that it's a great choice, Cap. Besides, Sci-fi, you need someone with her temperament to keep you in line, and she needs someone like you to keep her from making too many stupid risks. Besides, we need someone other than Merlin to play Mouse for all the Invid planetside."
"I know you guys think that this is a good idea," Johnny whined. "But why her, she hates men, she's condescending, she has even worse luck with wingmen than I do, and she considers me to be a threat to her Ace Status. Are you two trying to get me Killed!?!?"
Martin smirked as Brandon replied. The junior officer did bring up good points, but he was overlooking the fact that above all else, Spencer was a professional, and she did know how to follow orders.
"If I were trying to get you killed, I would have assigned you to the ground forces or partnered you up with Ishitaga. I am sure that you both would love to be attached at the hip again, Ensign."
Johnny blanched at that suggestion.
"I didn't think so. Besides, as long as you guys stick to your training, and don't let egos get in the way of completing the mission, we should all make it back in one piece. Besides, orders are orders, all VT teams are going in paired up, even your fearless leaders."
Whetstone grumbled something under his breath as they walked further into the hangers.
'Why do I always get stuck with the crazy ones, then blamed for it whenever they seem to get themselves killed….and then I get assigned to the looniest of the bunch to boot…Well maybe not that loony, but she doesn't exactly raise my confidence levels either…oh well, orders are orders, and with those cloaking devices, we might be able to survive this, and then I can get a real wingmate…..even if this one does have one of the highest kill counts in the wing…'
"Oh man, you guys won't believe this!"
The trio stopped and turned to Lindsey Niequiest, normally considered the more level headed of the Niequiest duo, flushed, with a slightly wild-eyed look, and her braided hair slightly akimbo as she took the few seconds of silence to catch her breath. It was then that Brandon caught onto the fact that she was still wearing her aerobic outfit.
'Okay, what just happened ..NOW?' The Squadron Commander felt his stomach suddenly drop a few inches.
"What's up? We just got upgraded from snoop and scout to hunter-killer status?"
"No wait, the Hunters and the rest of the Sentinels are back, aren't they?," shot out Craig with a slightly boyish smile.
Narrowing her eyes momentarily, the flight leader quieted both men with a look alone. Derringer merely waited patiently, quietly amused at the fact the other two could be cowed so easily.
"The 19th just got put on alert! I thought that we were shipping out with them. What's the big deal. I was up in the gym for the big flare up between Angelina and some army officer, and just after that excitement, some MPs came in, and rounded up quite a few of the cycle-jocks and herded them off, too. So cap, what's the word, I thought we weren't supposed to leave for another two days?"
"We aren't."
"So what's going on? Why did they quarantine off our Army contingent?," Whetstone asked somewhat incredulously.
"Good question, and I bet that trio of monkey-suits can tell us, from their purposeful gait." Martin said, inclining his head towards the approaching suits with GMP shoulder badges."
"Oh, I bet this is gonna be good," Whetstone muttered just loud enough for the other pilots to hear. He then got real quiet and played the part of your typical good soldier as the Global Military Police Officers came forward, the senior-most, a Master Sergeant from his lapel insignia, saluting Derringer and the other assembled officers."
"Captain Brandon Derringer."
"Yes?"
"These are for you and the other members of your Tactical Fighter Squadron. New mission orders," the Senior Noncom said in a very flat voice that was typical of career soldiers in his line of work. He then handed over a sealed packet of papers with more than a little force as he smacked it into Derringer's outstretched hand. The other two MPs simply watch with that casual alertness that made most people, including the two junior officers, more than a bit guilty and uneasy.
'Oh, I have a feeling that this is not going to bode very well,' Brandon mused after watching the MPs pivot and then exit out of the fighter bay. He then noticed that the normal amount of noise that was common to the fighter repair and storage bays had dropped off noticeably in time it took for the suits to arrive and give him this new special delivery. 'Oh well, better get this over with.' Looking around once as the other Diamondbacks crowded about to see what this new present was about. Derringer's eyes went over the fourteen pages of forms twice before he looked up and at his squadron mates, his sky blue eyes now steeled over.
"Get the squadron assembled, Commander. Ensign, Go find my wife and tell her she might get down to our ready room, and get her people assembled, too. We have just been given the "green light" and we are go in 12 hours and 48 minutes and counting."
"See, I told you it was big news," Lindsay remarked to Martin as she headed towards her quarters.
"Yeah, it was big news alright, but why couldn't have been GOOD news for once," Martin quipped back as the quartet separated to carry out their new orders, the XO making a beeline for the currently calm and sufficiently distracted Lieutenant Spencer who was now discussing something with the chief mechanic and Ensign Maschomismo.
"Great, there goes another good night of sleep. At least I can pack my pillow for the long flight," groused Johnny as he walked away and towards the shuttle section. "By the way, I claim the purple couch!," he half turned and yelled from across the fighter bay. 'I ain't giving up my shut-eye for ANY slug!'
Brandon watched the others with a reflective eye as they separated to carry out their orders. Now that things had suddenly been bumped by almost a day and a half, Derringer got an odd feeling of a clock ticking away just behind his back, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end for a few minutes. 'Get a grip, old man! We've done dozens of missions like this, this one will be a pie job as well.' As he walked back to his office, however, he could not shale the feeling that this mission was going to be decidingly different, and that they all may not come back from this one.
**********
And thus ends the next installment of the Pyrrhic WarDance chronicles. I hope that everyone is enjoying the mind trip so far. Red Shinto, thank you for your comments, and for the record, I am to please. Well until next time, same time zone, same web site. Manyana.