Chapter 13

"Damn it," cursed Fielding under his breath, "I really wanted the patrol duty."
He looked out the viewport, seeing the massive, sprawling facilities of the Granada Moon Base, a cruiser hub for the EMF fleet. All ships either came here or went to Space Fortress Solomon. No USC armada could take either in their current state, but there was still that possibility that no one wanted to think about.
"At least the bleeding stopped," commented Fielding, touching the bandage above his eye, covering his gashed eyebrow.
Priss walked to Fielding after his junior officer handed him a data disk and some paperwork.
"Sir," started Priss, "Here is a full report on the repairs made to the ship here at Granada."
Fielding took the paperwork and the data disk copy. He scanned through the many papers, seeing things like "Engine Reactors-100" or "Ship Defense Power Grid-Online" and especially "Main Cannons-100 operational".
"Well," replied Fielding, closing the file, "appears we are ready for duty again."
"Seems that way, Sir," agreed Priss, going back to his work station on the other side of the bridge.
"Alright people," announced Fielding over the ship's intercom, "time to get the party started, we are heading out in 15 minutes."
Scattered "Yes, Sir"s were heard throughout the ship.
"That is one thing I like about my crew," thought Fielding, "they are always up for a fight."

"This is boring," commented Rush, watching a set of empty railroad tracks that had clearing on either side, with thick forest after that.
"Shut up," replied Rachel, appearing on his communication system, "It is scheduled to be here within the hour."
"What will?" said Rush, just trying to get under Rachel's skin.
"The transport train, you jackass," Rachel snapped.
"Whatever," replied Rush with a yawn, "wake me up when it is here, I'm tired."
"He is such a jerk," thought Rachel, ending the conversation as Rush kicked back in his pilot's seat.
Rachel pulled out her PDA she had attached to her belt.
"Might as well do something remotely entertaining," she commented, starting a game she had on it.

"E.T.A., X.O.," stated Brandt, watching Earth grow larger and larger in his viewport.
"At our current speed," replied his X.O., "we will arrive within 30 minutes."
"Good," said Brandt, "That means I will be able to take the transport to this base instead of flying it there and exposing it," he added, pointing to different points on his map.
"Your suit, along with the 1st Battalion is ready for deployment, Sir," informed the X.O., reading data off of his clipboard PDA.
Brandt stood up and headed for the airlock at the rear of the bridge.
"I will be in my quarters," informed Brandt, " you are in charge of the bridge, get me when we land."
"Yes, Sir," obeyed his X.O., "one more thing, Sir," he added, stopping Brandt short of the airlock.
"Yes, X.O.?" he questioned.
"I received a report about a EMF patrol, sector Gamma I do believe, was completely destroyed by an unknown force."
He had Brandt's full attention.
"How long ago was this?" questioned Brandt, a concerned look on his face.
"It says that it was less than an hour ago in the report, so about an hour, maybe more," replied the X.O., factoring in the amount of time it took to send it to the cruiser.
"You said Gamma sector, the one out by the Jupiter Resource facilities, correct?" Brandt pondered, seeing if his thoughts were correct.
"The one and only, Sir," replied his X.O.
"I want a full report on the incident, ASAP," commanded Brandt, as he turned around and headed for his cabin.

"Sir," informed LeGraud, "We are exiting Granada airspace and entering Side 3."
"Good," replied Fielding, "Stay on this heading unless I specify otherwise."
"Yes, Sir," obeyed LeGraud, sending the heading to Ensign Summers' computer.
"Priss," called Fielding, turning around in his chair, looking for him.
Priss walked over from his station to Fielding.
"Yes, Sir?" he questioned, looking at Fielding.
"Has anyone picked up or heard anything about that cruiser that escaped in our last battle?" asked Fielding, keeping his voice down.
"No, Sir," replied Priss in the same manner, "It seems to have disappeared from existence."
"No," stated Fielding, "I have a good idea on where it would be at."
He looked at the debris field by S3-CN0235, left from a previous war.
"There," informed Fielding, pointing to it on screen, "Ensign, set course for that debris field."
"Yes, Sir," replied Summers, confused about their new heading.
"Priss," commanded Fielding, "activate shields, charge and prime all weapons, all hands to combat status."
"Yes, Sir" obeyed Priss, "but what about pat-"
"Can it," interrupted Fielding, "They can handle things without us for a little longer."
Priss started activating all of the cruiser's weapons, all ready to fire at the push of their buttons.
"If it is who I think it is," thought Fielding, "I must be ready, I cannot let him have an advantage. He is the only one I know that could escape in one piece and disappear as he did."
The cruiser entered the debris field; some small pieces would bounce off of the hull of the ship, causing metallic thuds that startled everyone everytime it happened. Fielding only chuckled.
"If you think this is bad," commented Fielding, "wait until we find the debris that's bigger than this cruiser."
The bridge remained quiet, not wanting to find out first hand. Ensign Summers was doing an excellent job avoiding almost all the debris.
"Good job, Summers," stated Fielding, proud of his pilot, "keep up the good work."
"Thank you, Sir," she replied, concentrating on the debris ahead of the cruiser.

"Damn it!" cursed Rachel, losing her last life at her game on her PDA.
She put it away and saw nothing in front of her on her screen.
"Well," she commented, growing tired of being still," might as well run a check on Cydra."
She began keying in sequences, checking all the systems, making sure the suit was at 100 optimum efficiency.
"Rush is...different," thought Rachel as she did her tests, "We seem to have a lot in common. I can't really get to know him though will he is moping around. I understand it is hard to lose loved ones, I know firsthand, but I can't just tell him to get over it."
She bit her lower lip, pondering upon what she should do.
"I can't let him beat himself up over it either; I need his help right now. Our suits work together, mine is a melee-short range suit and his is a medium to long range suit, so we protect each other."
Rachel began another simulation on her computer, just to recheck everything, and to pass time.
"I kinda like him, but I don't know if he knows I do," she continued to think.
A man in a labcoat, wearing glasses, appeared on her communication system.
"Dr. Ciao!" exclaimed Rachel, seeing him for the first time in a month.
"Hello, Taka," he replied with a nod, "How are you?"
"I doing ok," Rachel explained, "Cydra is performing just how you designed it to."
"That is good to hear," replied Ciao, "and what about your new partner?"
"He can be an ass sometimes," Rachel stated, "but, he is a damn good pilot."
"From what you have told me in your recent messages, it seems that you have developed feelings for him, a crush, perhaps?" Ciao inquired.
"Don't be absurd," Rachel lied, defending herself.
"Ok, calm down," Ciao replied with a laugh, "that fiery temper of yours, that reminds me of your father."
Rachel remembered him, her heart sank.
"I miss him, Dr. Ciao," she stated, sadly, "no one will be able to ever replace him, but you are the next closest thing to a father to me."
"Glad to hear that," replied Ciao, remembering the time he spent raising her as her own. "I will talk to you later, don't want the EMF to home in on my signal."
"Goodbye, Doctor," she said, touching the screen.
"Goodbye, Taka," he replied, the transmission ended.
Rachel remained silent for a few minutes, looking out her viewport in her suit, watching a couple of birds fly by.

"Sir?" questioned a junior officer, knocking on Brandt's cabin door.
"Yes?" replied Brandt on the other side.
"We are entering the atmosphere now, we should be planetside within 10 minutes," informed the officer.
"Good," Brandt stated, "I will be ready by then, have my suit ready to go."
"Yes, Sir," replied the junior officer, walking down the hall to the bridge of the ship.
Brandt walked back to his communicator he had left on his nightstand.
"The coast is clear," Brandt spoke, Serege's face appeared on the communicator.
"Ok," replied Serege, "I have bad news."
"What?" questioned Brandt."
"A faction that calls themselves the UTSR, or the United Terrain Soviet Republic, is on their way to your universe to "acquire" the MS technology."
"And?" Brandt continued
"And, they are powerful, far too powerful for the EMF, or the USC, to take on alone. What I am asking of you might come as a shock, but, you must somehow get the EMF and the USC to join forces and form an alliance."
"No way in hell," replied Brandt, coldly, "Even if we were willing in the first place, they wouldn't agree after the genocide I committed under orders."
"I know it looks grim, but you must at least attempt it, Brandt, your universe's existence depends on it."
"I will try, but our leaders, either side, will not listen to reason," Brandt informed, "they are all stubborn and want to see the other side dead."
Brandt saw a female in the background as she entered the room that Serege was in.
"Fredrick, is that him? questioned the female.
"This is a pri-" Serege attempted to say.
She pushed Serege aside and looked at Brandt.
"Listen to me, you bastard," she yelled, "I don't care if you were going to be executed, that doesn't give you the right to kill innocent civilians."
"Serege, who is that?" questioned Brandt, insulted.
"No one," Serege said, shoving her out of view, "I will contact you later."
The communicator went dead.
"Time to go, I guess," thought Brandt, as he headed out his cabin, down the hall towards his suit.

An older man, in his early 60s, paced back and forth across the bridge of his ship. He was tall, standing nearly 7 feet and slightly larger than average build, he was intimidating. He had the markings of Captain on his uniform. His left arm was amputated from the socket down, his sleeve pinned up on his shoulder crowning on his uniform. His silvery-white hair was accented by his dark blue, penetrating eye, his left eye was covered by a black eye patch. He had seen action, his crew wasn't green either. His nametag on his uniform, across from his many medals, read "FIELDING". The uniform, well kept and cleaned, was of USC colors, dark purple with gold trim.
"Status," commanded Fielding in a loud, booming voice.
"All 7 cruisers have been destroyed in combat," informed the X.O., "We are at 100 effectiveness still."
"Keep us hidden, set a course for Side 4," Fielding said, sitting down in his chair.
"Sir," informed the Nav. officer, "I have something on long range scanners."
The image came up on screen, the ship on screen wasn't friendly.
"They found us," commented Fielding, "Combat status, all men to their stations," Fielding said, taking command.
"There is only one person that could have decimated my fleet," thought Fielding, "and then have the nerve to hunt me down. He will be sadly disappointed when he finds me, I will be ready for him. No one, not the EMF, and definitely not you, little brother, will stop me, I will bring the USC to its restored glory."