A/N: Finally finished Chapter 33 last night, but it really took me quite awhile to write the whole thing. I'm starting to feel a little fatigued at writing so much, but I hope to get over it quickly. Fortunately, I have the next chapter plotted out in an outline form, so I hope that it will help me finish it sooner. I usually write my chapters with nothing but the thoughts in my head and perhaps that's why I struggled to finish 33... I couldn't decide on what to write.
Again, I encourage you all to PM me or send me an e-mail if you have any specific comments to make regarding each chapter I release. I appreciate all of the input you can give me, so don't think that you'd be annoying me or anything like that.
Enjoy! -(07/12/10)
"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Ozma asked as he entered Captain Wilder's office. The door closed behind him and he took a seat in front of Wilder's desk, after a brief salute. The Captain was busily tapping away at the keyboard in front of his computer console and he decided to finish what he was working on before speaking to Ozma. After he was done with his work, Wilder folded his hands on the desk in front of him in an ominous gesture. Ozma could tell that he was going to have to take this conversation quite seriously.
"It's been confirmed. Your executive officer has finally flown the coop and is taking her own brood," Captain Wilder announced. The obscure avian reference was a familiar language to a pilot like Ozma. Wilder still has not forgotten his days as a pilot, which makes the relationship between himself and Ozma quite a bit easier to maintain. "Have you selected a replacement for her yet?" Wilder asked. Ozma was a bit confused at the question, since he had just heard the news only a few seconds prior to being asked. "What?" Captain Wilder tapped one of his fingers onto the backside of his other hand, which indicated his mounting impatience.
"Let me guess. You didn't have a backup plan for this?" Captain Wilder asked. Ozma could see where this conversation was going. He had to quickly admit to himself that he has been a bit lax when it comes to making plans for the future. "I've done a little bit of research into the personnel files, but I haven't found a suitable match yet." Ozma had to tell a bit of a fib to keep Captain Wilder's impatience at bay. The Captain sighed and leaned back in his chair. He kept his hands folded on his stomach as the chair reclined backwards under the force of his weight. "So, that means that you're short one pilot in one of your forward attack teams, and you don't have an executive officer in your squadron."
"Yes, Sir. It appears so," Ozma said with hesitation. It was going to take some skillful dialogue to keep from getting into any kind of trouble over his lack of foresight. He had to act quickly so he would not be stuck on the defensive for the duration of the conversation with his superior officer. "I need your opinion, though. I have already ordained Lieutenant Rora as the new leader of Pixie Team, but if I bring in a new XO, I won't have an opening for a team leader. Should I bump someone out of their position to make room?" Captain Wilder intercepted the escape attempt before it was too late. "You know that I expect you to do whatever it takes. I don't think I have to answer that question for you." Ozma knew that he was not going to get out of this without a bit of an ass-chewing.
Captain Wilder sighed and recomposed himself to assuage some of the frustration building up inside of him. "Ozma... We've known each other for several years now, and I haven't had much of an issue with your work habits. Now, though, I've been concerned that you're starting to let things slip through the cracks." He leaned forward and glared at Ozma to continue his slight lecture. "Because I have respect for you as a pilot and squadron leader, I don't feel the necessity to come down on you very hard over this. However, you have to understand that NUNS command has my nuts in a vice over the lack of preparation that led to the unnecessary destruction and loss of life during our first encounter with the Vajra near Coral-5. Also, I feel personally responsible for the lives of all of the soldiers in this fleet. As the saying goes, 'shit rolls downhill'. I won't tolerate lack of preparation that may lead to more unnecessary loss of life."
He then reclined in his chair once again as he finished his monologue. "Get on it. I need you to report your progress on the matter to me by the end of the day, got it?" In the many years that he's known Captain Wilder, Ozma has rarely seen this kind of intensity from the usually-calm Captain. It seems that this campaign is really starting to bring out a side of the Captain that has never been necessary, up until now. Ozma forgets that his superior officer must sometimes put the friendship aside so that he can do his job; Ozma has to do it to his subordinates once in awhile too. "Understood, Sir," he said as he got up to salute.
Instead of saluting back, Captain Wilder stood up from his chair and put his hand out for a shake. Ozma immediately recognized this gesture as a sign of respect for their friendship. Captain Wilder definitely wanted him to know that, despite the necessity to circumvent their friendship in this case, he still holds their relationship in high regards. Ozma reached down and returned the handshake with a firm grip. The two pilots, one current and one former, donned warm smiles and looked each other straight in the eyes. It was understood that there was no intention of any harm towards their relationship, despite having to put it aside to get the job done. Ozma left Captain Wilder's office a bit mortified from getting chewed-out, but he knew that as long as he completed his duties and followed his orders, he would find a friend in the good Captain.
…
A large group of Zentraedi soldiers gathered in one of the meeting rooms on their ship. There was a dull roar of chatter amongst them as they waited for the meeting to begin. Right on time, the officers entered the room from the rear entrance. One of the soldiers, who had been keeping watch for them near the rear entrance stood at attention and barked out at the other soldiers in the room, "Officers on deck!" The chatter immediately froze and the sound of many soldiers simultaneously standing up and at attention boomed through the room.
With Klan standing behind him, Jormun stood front-and-center and quickly scanned over the personnel in the room. "At ease!" he ordered. Everyone quickly returned to their seats and began to wonder who the Meltran standing behind their ship's first officer was. Several of the soldiers looked at each other inquisitively, as if they were telepathically asking each other about her. Jormun waited for a moment while everyone got comfortable in their seats again.
"Alright, guys... I've called you all in here to introduce you to your new squadron commander." He stepped aside and pointed to Klan with his outstretched palm. "This is Commander Klan Klang and she will be leading Charon Squadron from here on out," he said while he quickly peered at the new rank insignia on her uniform. The room was briefly filled with murmurs and whispers. Several pairs of Zentrans leaned in towards each other to hear what words were being covertly passed between them.
Jormun continued with his introduction, "She is a highly-skilled and experienced pilot who has spent her career flying for the civilian military provider, SMS, and has been partially responsible for its success as the NUNS's newest elite fighter squadron." The pilots in the room nodded in agreement upon hearing Klan's credentials. She remained motionless and kept an indifferent look on her face while Jormun finished his introduction of her. "She comes highly recommended by her superiors and by the Office of the Joint Chiefs. Charon Squadron, salute your new commanding officer!" he said while he turned towards Klan and saluted. The rest of the personnel followed in kind and that booming sound of an entire squadron simultaneously standing at attention made a brief comeback.
Klan saluted her new squadron and turned to Jormun to salute him back as well. After shaking hands with her, he stepped aside and let her take over the meeting. "It's good to finally see you all. The good Commander here has told me a lot about you; mostly good, and some bad. However, he has warned me that you all are a fairly rowdy bunch." She began to walk around the room, passing between seated soldiers and scanning them over for an introductory impression. "I think you should know that I've always run a tight ship and I have a low tolerance for games. This squadron has been described as 'one of the best', and I intend to stick by that definition and improve on it, if possible."
As she continued to walk through the room, a couple of Zentrans were whispering to each other and both seemed to be chuckling at something they said to each other, while trying to appear attentive to her monologue. Klan could see the exchange out of the corner of her eye, but continued speaking anyway, "Our goal as a Zentraedi elite fighter squadron is to show those miclones that we Zentrans can fight on a higher level than they can!" Most of the pilots in the room grunted in agreement. However, the same pair of pilots continued their conversation, despite anything Klan had to say. She casually strolled just past the pair of pilots and stopped for a moment. They were silent while she was nearby and turned their attention back to her just as she started to speak again. "Unfortunately, we won't be able to achieve that kind of success without some discipline."
Klan turned around towards the pair of pilots and only wore a look of seriousness on her face. Her old self would have simply torn into them for talking to each other while she was speaking to the squadron, but this version of Klan was a little more... stoic. "Since our two friends here feel it necessary to carry on their own little conversation while I am speaking; which, I think you all would agree, is quite disrespectful to me, the squadron gets to share their punishment." Klan wryly grinned as she walked away from the two mortified pilots. "Have any of you ever had to clean the head... while in your skivvies?" she asked to her squadron. Tongues clicked and jeers followed as the squadron turned their frustration towards the two individuals who had been talking the whole time. The pair of pilots desperately used their notebooks to try and deflect as many of the wadded-up balls of paper being thrown at them as they could.
Klan stopped at the front of the room and looked towards the idle projection screen on the wall. She was actually looking past it, though... Unbeknownst to her squadron, she wore a smile of satisfaction while she listened to the pilots taking out their anger on the two Zentrans who got them all into trouble. In her mind, she revisited the memory of how she had gotten Cal to clean the bathrooms while wearing only his boxers and an undershirt. Those were good times, but they were definitely not as enjoyable as the last few days she spent in the fleet. Following her reconciliations with Cal and the realization that she could finally move on and return to her old self again, it was like she had been freed from the bondage of emotional weight brought on by the events of the preceding several months. If it wasn't for her sister, but most importantly, the efforts of one extremely stubborn miclone RVF pilot, she wouldn't be standing in front of her own squadron as their commander. She quickly renewed her wishes for the safety of the crew of the Quarter while she was away. Her fist balled up and she smirked as she began to think about how she was going to show up that cocky RVF pilot with her new Queadluun, if and when she returned.
…
Despite the bustling activity in the hangar, Ozma's office remained relatively quiet. Most of the raucous noise from the outside was filtered out, by design. However, anyone standing just outside of one of the windows could be heard if they spoke loudly enough. Every time a pilot or technician passed by and hollered at someone across the hangar from them, Ozma would look up from his desk to identify the source of the muffled voices. Normally, these kinds of interruptions would hamper the progress of one's current duties, but he had no issues since he was accustomed to such a work environment.
Ozma was just beginning to sink into another personnel file, when he heard a crew member shouting to another off in the distance. He looked up to see the crew member dash off back to where the VFs were being stored and maintained, but just before he dipped his head again, a pair of pilots walked by with indifferent looks on their faces. Several feet separated them from each other, and not a word was said between them. Ozma's sharp eyes noticed the signs of fighting imprinted on their faces, even though the scars were now barely noticeable. They hadn't done a terrible amount of damage to each other, but it was enough to catch Ozma's eye.
Nene watched her two chickling pilots head towards their birds while she was on her way to the micloning tanks. Before she could make the turn, she heard Ozma calling out to her from his office door. When Nene neared a more personal conversation distance, Ozma did a single nod in the direction of Cal and Will and made known his curiosity. "What's with their faces?" "What? Oh... that... It's nothing. Just a little problem that needed to be taken care of. Everything is hunky-dory now, though," Nene answered with a nervous smile. She knew that Ozma had already expressed his disapproval over the previous episodes of 'Pixie Team Drama Theater' and she had no room to wiggle, since she was all set to take over as the team leader soon. Ozma decided to address this situation after he delivered slightly-more-important news first.
"Hmm... Well, I just wanted to mention to you that your sister has found her new home and her transfer and promotion is now written in stone. That means that you'll be taking over as Pixie Team's leader." Ozma announced. Nene gasped at the news, both of her sister's promotion and of her own; even though she was not advancing in rank. Ozma continued, "Before I give my congratulations to you, I just want to make sure that we're not going to be having any re-occurrences of past events, if you know what I mean..." Nene didn't answer, she just looked over to where Will and Cal were standing and performed a single nod, like Ozma had just done earlier.
They were standing near Will's VF, each with a hand straight up above their heads in the all-too-familiar exercise pilots engage in when they are practicing aerobatic maneuvers in their minds. Will followed Cal's hand movements, as if there was a short flying lesson being taught at that very moment. Every few seconds, Will would have to backtrack his path to mimic Cal's; but after a minute or so, he completed the routine and engaged in an inaudible conversation with Cal. The two pilots seemed just as amicable towards each other as they always have been in the past, and the sight of their apparent harmony was relieving to Ozma. After they exchanged words of encouragement between each other, they bumped fists and headed towards their VFs to prepare for their impending launch.
Ozma smirked and looked back at Nene, who had an aura of extreme confidence about her now. "Nene, how many times must I tell you that beating the sense into your pilots is not always the best way to get the job done?" he joked. Nene played along with his joke and revealed her hand from her side, which she then had balled into a fist. "Aww..." she whined as she unclenched her hand and returned it to her side. Ozma added a little seriousness to his demeanor. "Congratulations, Nene. Pixie Team will undoubtedly continue to shine under your guidance." "Thank you, Sir," Nene said, and saluted her commanding officer.
…
On the Eksidos, the officers' mess was teeming with activity. The room resembled a fine dining restaurant, reserved only for the upper crust of society. It seemed like they really took good care of their officers on the ship; rewarding their hard work with some of the best perks available within the NUNS. Despite the abundance of officers partaking of their meals at the time, Klan sat alone at her table. It was easy to tell that her mind was very preoccupied by something. Two or three minutes would pass in between each of her bites, indicating that eating was not the highest priority for her at the time.
Today's Queadluun testing went off without a hitch. The new prototype performed flawlessly, even though the technicians would not allow Klan to treat it so roughly this time. They were almost afraid to let her have the controls, for fear of what she might do to push its performance too hard. The meeting with her new squadron also went well. Klan was confident that she had already asserted herself as the new leader of her rowdy band of roughnecks. Her recent experience in handling certain free-spirited individuals has come in handy, even though she had decided on a different punishment than was previously discussed for them. Some simple PT was just the right touch; enough to let her pilots know that she was not going to allow any discord to fester. They seemed to be a bit pudgy around their midsections anyways...
The only thing that could possibly be worrying her is the state of the fleet, still encircling the system in search of any signs of Galaxy's location. Her dream from the night before could very well be a premonition of things to come, but it could also just be as meaningless as all of the rest of the dreams that one experiences throughout their lifetime. Still, Klan just had to carefully analyze the meaning of her nocturnal vision. Most dreams are manifestations of either one's deepest desires, or one's deepest fears... maybe even both at the same time.
Then, there was the issue of Michael's appearance in her dream. Could he possibly be trying to reach her from the "other side", or was he just a creation of her own mind? Regardless of the answer, she was faced with a revealing question. All of her adult life, she had hesitated to tell Michael how she felt about him. In the end, it turned out that they had both waited too long to say what needed to be said. It seems that her subconscious is now preoccupied with the possibility that the fleet may be in danger and she'll never get the chance to set things straight with Cal. She has obviously come to appreciate all that he's done for her and everything that he is to her, but that doesn't mean that she'll feel the same way about him that he does for her. You can really care about someone without having to be by their side as more than just a friend, but it's not as significant as when you share a bond with someone whom you truly love and they return that emotion in kind.
"Do you mind if I join you?" a voice sounded and rattled Klan back to reality. She looked at Jormun, who was holding his food tray, and thought about his question for just one second. "Knock yourself out," she casually stated. Jormun took a seat and unfurled his napkin before placing it on his lap. While he began to add a couple of condiments to his meal, he initiated conversational small-talk to alleviate any tension that Klan may still have reserved for him.
"So, what do you think of the new prototype?" Klan did not turn her face towards him, only her eyes. The gesture indicated that she was still not happy with him over something he did several years ago. However, given the position that she was in; how Jormun has made an effort to give her a huge career opportunity and asked nothing in return, she had to at least try to not give him a cold shoulder. "It was everything I had expected it to be," she said as she finally turned her head towards him and continued, "You guys have done a pretty good job in listening to other pilots and using their advice as input on the design features. Your diligence has produced one hell of a fighter."
Jormun was glad that Klan quickly changed her demeanor and actually complimented his hard work, although the compliment was not quite deserved. "No, the design team is who deserves your applause. I am just the one responsible for staffing the team and serving a supporting role to the project." She had to appreciate that he was quick to redirect her kind words away from himself in a gesture of modesty. That certainly is something that is different in him than from the Jormun she knew from a few years ago. She nodded in response and took a bite of her food.
He was still a bit curious about the test results. Even though he was spectating the entire time, he wanted to get her firsthand opinion, rather than rely on a bunch of numbers that spat out onto the computer monitors on the bridge. "Did they implement a satisfactory fix to the aiming problem you pointed out a couple of days ago?" Klan had just finished her bite and answered, "Mm-hmm. It's actually quite ingenious... they programmed the computer to use reference points on the arms to generate a virtual line on my display. Wherever I move the arms, the display projects the lines off into the distance, gives me range information, and actually curves the line based on my current speed and direction of movement. It's way better than physically projecting a light beam through space. Doing so might actually give away my position or tell someone where I am aiming."
Jormun smiled at her response. "Good! I'm glad they got that fixed so fast for you. I can't tell you how valuable your input has been so far already. I'm really glad you were available for this assignment." Klan was finding it a bit difficult to accept his kind words, but she managed to squeeze out a positive response. "Well, thanks for bringing me in for this project. I can already tell that I'm going to thoroughly enjoy this assignment." He looked down at his food as he prepared a bite and started to chuckle and slightly shake his head.
"What? What's so funny?" Klan asked. Jormun stopped laughing and answered, "You're starting to make me regret not calling you back all those years ago..." It was tough to tell if he was trying to put their past behind them, or if he was actually making a pass at her. Klan didn't want to wait around to find out and quickly changed the subject. "Anyway... What's the next phase of testing ahead of us?" Jormun gathered himself back up and returned to a more professional demeanor. "We'll be taking the ship into orbit and begin the space-based testing tomorrow," he replied.
The news was pleasing to Klan, but there was something more that she was wanting to hear. "I have a request to ask of you, if you don't mind," she said. Jormun was receptive of her impending question, "Sure. What can I help you with?" "Would it be possible to allow me to return to the deployed fleet very soon? …Just for a day or maybe even a few hours?" Jormun's face showed disappointment. "Sorry, but I can't allow you to go back. Not only is their current location a classified matter, we don't have the time to stall the project to fill that request. I wish I could help you, but it's completely out of my control. I don't even think the Captain could approve such a request."
The answer was quite disappointing, but knowing Klan, that wouldn't be where she stops. Having connections throughout the NUNS chain of command can come in handy sometimes. Cathy would definitely be a good place to start... heck, even Klan's mother might be able to help, seeing as how she had spent her career as an NUNS officer. "Oh, I see..." she said with a hint of dejection in her voice, "Oh, well. There's a lot of work to be done! If you'll excuse me..." she said as she picked up her now-empty tray and left. Jormun had a feeling that she was up to no good, but he couldn't be sure since he still did not yet know her that well.
…
Dinner was being served in the Quarter's mess hall as well, and the room was packed with off-duty crew looking to stuff their faces before beginning their shifts, or winding down their day in preparation for sleep. The rest of the crew was hard at work on active duty. Pixie Team was one of the lucky groups of crew who was on the list of people getting ready to end their day and catch some rest. First things first, though... Will and Nene walked together from the mess line towards the table that Cal had been saving for them. As they approached him, they noticed he was not really eating, but concentrating on something in front of him. A small, paperback book laid open beside him and he periodically would look over to read it for a moment and then turn his attention back to what was on the table directly in front of him.
"What the heck are you doing?" Will asked as he sat down at the table. He noticed that Cal was fooling with a garbled-up wad of colored paper. Before answering, Cal sighed in frustration, tossed the wad of paper towards Will, and threw himself backwards into his chair. "Origami is bullshit!" he said. Will looked over to the book that Cal had open and he realized that it was instructions on how to create an origami figurine. Cal grabbed his dinner tray and began to shovel food into his mouth before it got any colder.
Will and Nene looked at each other with puzzled looks on their faces. "Why are you trying to learn origami?" Nene asked. Cal stopped shoveling food in his mouth and put up his index finger to tell Nene to wait a minute so he could finish chewing. Several moments passed and he grimaced as he swallowed more than his throat could probably handle. A couple of quick pounding thrusts to his chest and he exhaled in satisfaction, having worked the food all the way down his esophagus. "I happened to see Lieutenant Saotome making one of these things and I was immediately captivated by it. He gave me this book to help me learn how to do it. However, some knuckle-dragging monkey must have written this thing because I can't figure out the diagrams in some cases!"
Will smiled, rather than laugh, at Cal's frustration. "So... you run into something you can't do well, and all you can do is criticize it and get mad at it, huh?" Cal glared at Will in anger for basically hitting the nail on the head. Out of protest, he shoved his food out of the way and grabbed the book again. Taking another sheet of paper from the back of the book, he flipped back to the diagrams he was previously working on and got back to work.
Nene was still a little curious. "Wait, Alto always makes paper airplanes. I wonder why he'd be compelled to take up origami? I guess it's just a fancier way to make paper airplanes..." Cal answered while still working on his attempt. "Yeah, he said he just got a little bored with plain paper planes and wanted to broaden his horizons a bit. His figurines looked awesome and I thought 'I can do that too!' He showed me a few basics and then gave me his book because he had to get ready for his sortie."
They watched Cal struggle with the paper for a bit before Nene began to speak again. "Um, I have to tell you guys that we need to fill our vacant spot in Pixie Team now. I know that Ozma is busy finding a new executive officer, but I figure I'd take the initiative and find someone myself so he doesn't have to do it. Are you guys okay with that?" A couple of grunts from the two male members of the team was all she could hear. After hesitating at their responses, she continued, "Uh, okay... I was thinking about inviting that pilot we flew with yesterday. He did a pretty good job of keeping himself alive and actually got a few kills while he was out there with us. The one we had today was pretty green; he'd never be able to keep up with us."
Cal began to growl at his newest origami effort and eventually crumbled it up and threw it across the room in frustration. He sighed and responded to Nene as he reached into the book for yet another piece of paper, "That sounds good, actually. I could use someone in the team to give me an ego boost every day, kind of like how he did after we sanitized that group of Vajra yesterday." Will and Nene clicked their tongues and shook their heads at Cal's response. He smirked at their reactions; he was just saying that to get under their skin.
"Well, in that case, maybe he isn't the best choice. We can't have your head ballooning too big inside of that helmet of yours while you're flying," Will said. Cal just kept on smiling while he focused his attention on the figurine he was working on. "You got anyone better in mind?" he asked. "Good question," Nene said. After deliberating for a moment, Will and Nene realized that they'd have to make some sacrifices in order to get their team back to full strength as quickly as possible. They nodded at each other and Nene finalized the decision, "Okay, fine... It's settled, then. I'll let Ozma know so he can get the ball rolling."
"Ha! Finally!" Cal exclaimed, as if he was responding to Nene's statement. Instead, he held his masterpiece above his head with both hands and began to emit a high-pitched note from his mouth. It was as if he was mimicking a heavenly choir with his falsetto voice. He slowly lowered his hands, making it seem like his figurine was descending from the heavens. Once his hands rested on the table, he held a version of the quintessential origami crane; the usual first-time creation of anyone learning the art of folding paper. "What do you think about that?" he rhetorically asked.
Will performed a golf-clap in response. "Good for you... Now try something that's not for beginners." Cal's smile quickly evaporated from his face and he glared into Will's eyes, like he was trying to stare him into submission. Without even looking at it, he grabbed the book at his side, ripped another sheet of paper from the back, and turned to the next exercise. Will seemed to enjoy pushing Cal's buttons a bit. It was nice to get to turn the tables on him, for a change. He reclined in his chair and continued to eat his meal, entertained by the sideshow being performed for him right at his own table. Even Nene got quiet and smiled while she spectated.
A couple of minutes on the next exercise, and Cal had already screwed it up. " Grrr!" he growled while he forcefully crumbled the paper into the smallest wad his strength would allow. Another sheet popped out of the book and Will continued to smile as he watched. "I wonder if they serve popcorn from the galley..." he casually said. "I'll go find out," Nene said before she got up from her chair to talk to one of the cooks. Cal ignored their heckling and continued to focus all of his mental might and manual dexterity on his figurine. It seemed like there was a steady stream of steam coming out from his ears.
…
A small handful of technicians were wrapping up their work in the quarantined area of the Eksidos's hangar. Following a strong yawn, one of them spoke up to the others as he looked at his watch, "Goddamn, it's getting late. Let's get out of here, guys. We have a lot to do in the morning." The other workers agreed and started to put their equipment away. Looking around him to see if everyone was accounted for, one of the technicians noticed Klan sitting at one of the tables. She had a computer terminal in front of her, but she was sound asleep on the keyboard.
He quietly approached her to wake her, but he remembered hearing some stories about her explosive temper. "Maybe I should just let her sleep..." he thought to himself as he backed away. He grabbed a labcoat that was hanging on the wall and draped it over her back to serve as a blanket. After carefully placing it on her, he tiptoed away and rejoined his co-workers at the door. They shut off all of the lights in the room, but left the desk lamp on near Klan so she could see when she finally awoke. Once the doors shut behind them, Klan opened her eyes. She wasn't sleeping... she was waiting.
…
The lights on the bridge were set to low levels, just the way Monica preferred it while she was on duty as the bridge commander. Third shift always passed by quietly, with a minimal amount of chatter. It seemed that the crew assigned to this shift was still rather unfamiliar with each other, but hopefully they'd begin to gain a sense of comfort after some more time working together.
Monica kept a close eye on her console when she noticed the radar operator was fidgeting in his chair. The operator would occasionally look back towards Monica and then return his gaze to the radar output. Curious about the operator's erratic behavior, she got up from her chair and approached the radar station from behind. To keep the bridge's atmosphere quiet, she leaned down and gently spoke to the radar operator.
"What's the matter, Lieutenant?" Monica asked. "I don't know, Ma'am. There's this bizarre reading coming from this quadrant at a range of about a thousand kilometers. It's relative position to us has remained unchanged for the last few minutes," he said as he pointed out a blurry return on the projection. Monica stared at it for a moment before answering him. "It could be a malfunction. Did you run a diagnostic test on the system?" "No, Ma'am. I'll start it right now." He began to punch in his commands onto the keyboard console in front of him. Monica knew that it would take a couple of minutes to run, so she went back to her chair to wait.
Silence filled the air once again while the radar operator ran the diagnostic on his systems. After a couple of minutes, he turned around to look at Monica once again. She joined him at the radar station so he could give her the result of the tests. "Everything checks out fine, Ma'am. The anomaly is still holding a steady position and distance from us." Monica glared at the radar projection for another moment, using all of her expertise to come up with an answer. "I've seen this somewhere..." she thought to herself. "Show me the fold wave spectrum readout of the area," she ordered.
The operator switched the output on the projection and it showed the flow of fold waves throughout the fleet. As was expected, all of the ships were reflecting fold waves from other sources around it, and were also emanating their own fold waves, which were caused by their engines operating at nominal levels. Even the surrounding planetoids were reflecting the waves being tossed about by the fleet. However, the anomalous blob seemed to be refracting the waves, rather than either reflecting them or letting them pass straight through. A curious reading, indeed...
"Show me the EM spectrum readout." The projection changed colors again to display the electromagnetic waves that passed through the fleet. As the distance from the fleet increased, the fidelity of the projection decreased until it was nothing but a blur. The asteroids were inhibiting the sensors from seeing too far beyond the perimeter of the fleet. "Zoom in on the anomaly," Monica ordered. The operator punched in his commands and gave the result a good, hard look. "Ma'am, it's as if the EM waves are reflecting off of the anomaly... like it was solid metal. Look, it's the same return that we'd get from any one of our non-stealthed ships," he said as he zoomed back out to show part of the fleet. Monica nodded and stood back up to look out of the bridge and into space towards the position of the anomalous reading.
"Can you give me an optical zoom of that area?" "Yes, Ma'am." A new window opened up on the bridge's main screen to show ordinary asteroids. There was one rather large asteroid amongst the usual ones, but it was moving faster than its diminutive neighbors. It was a speed relative to the fleet's and Monica began to think about what all of these signs meant. "I know I've seen these radar readouts before somewhere... I can't recall exactly what it was, but I know that it was associated with heavy combat in my memory," she thought to herself. She had to make a decision before much more time passed.
She stood up and began to give orders to her bridge crew. "Put the ship on general alert until we've found out what is going on. If the shit hits the fan, be ready to issue a combat alert," she said as she returned to her seat. "Page the Captain and begin charging the Macross Cannon. Helmsman, turn the ship 32 degrees to starboard and pitch up 12 degrees," she ordered. "Roger that!" She punched several keys on her console at the Captain's chair to confirm her calculations. The ship subsystems controller turned around to speak to Monica, "But we don't have authorization to fire!" "I know that, Lieutenant. That's why the Captain has been paged. Once he gets here, he can make the decision. At least then, we will be ready to fire if he orders us to do so." The controller nodded and turned back towards his console to continue monitoring and administrating the ship's systems operations.
As if it was reacting to the Quarter's reposturing and the charging of its Macross Cannon, the anomaly began to emit a faint fold wave of its own. The radar operator turned to Monica once again, "Ma'am, there is now a fold wave emanating from the anomaly!" Monica stood up and looked at the communications officer. "Display the wave's spectrum analysis on the main monitor!" The output was also vaguely familiar to Monica, as if she had seen it somewhere before very recently. Suddenly, she remembered seeing that same pattern playing repeatedly from Lam's monitors when she was working with Luca on the fold wave recording that Cal had sent to the ship while he was on patrol near Coral-5.
Within seconds, the radar station began to sound several alarms and warning chirps. "Multiple defold reactions have been detected all around us! There are a lot of large, cruiser-sized signatures mixed in with countless fighter-sized signatures," the radar operator reported as the projection showed the location of the hundreds of defolds about to take place. "What?" Monica reacted. The distant space was now peppered with portals leading to super-dimension space before Vajra cruisers and drones began to emerge from them.
Monica whipped her eyes to the side a bit towards the source of the anomalous readings and gritted her teeth. It seemed to be taunting her, knowing full well that she could not figure out what it was. "Helmsman?" she asked. "The ship is in firing position and the Macross Cannon is fully-charged, Ma'am!" Monica thought about the right decision for a split second before she blurted out her next command. "Fire the Macross Cannon!" she yelled. The helmsman hesitated for a moment, "We don't have the authority to fire!" Monica began to storm towards the helmsman. "We are under attack, Lieutenant! Does the concept of 'shoot first and ask questions later' not mean anything to you? It's either us or them!" The helmsman changed his demeanor and looked forward out of the ship with a newfound determination. "Fire the Macross Cannon!" Monica ordered once again. This time, the helmsman pulled the trigger on his controls without any hesitation.
