"What are your orders, Captain?" Commander Ortiz inquired. Aside from the sound of alerts chiming at various stations on the bridge, it was otherwise quiet on the command deck. Finally, Captain Wilder was beginning to show fatigue in his demeanor. Over and over, he's been able to block the Galaxy fleet's every aggressive move and minimize his own fleet's losses. This was one stacked game of chess that he was engaged in. However, there were only so many pieces on the board that he could use to defend and protect. His opponent's pieces seemed to find their way back on the board, pressing their attack even further into his defenses until the inevitable checkmate would rear its ugly head.
After deliberating for a few short moments, he preceded his words with a heavy sigh, "The fleet must defend itself from the group of Vajra headed this way." Another labored sigh exited his mouth before continuing, "The fighter groups at the front line are going to have to defend themselves without our support. Our capital ships are the highest priority and it looks like we will have to make some sacrifices to be able to successfully defend ourselves." Nobody on the bridge liked to hear his words. They knew that it was a very difficult decision to have to make, but it was necessary. Captain Wilder looked towards Jen. "Lieutenant, inform the squadron commanders of the situation." Jen stared at him with disbelief for a few moments before she nodded and turned back to her console to relay the macabre orders.
From the front lines, the news was quite chilling. To find out that you're completely surrounded and you have little chance of surviving is quite an unnerving sensation. The only thing left to do is to go out with a huge blaze of glory and hope that you can take as many of your opponents with you as you can before you buy the farm. It was Ozma's job once again to rally the troops. "Alright, maggots! Listen up! You heard the news. Let's not let it make us forget our mission out here. We've got some MDE bombs to deliver into the heart of the Galaxy fleet and I'd like to finish this last mission before I leave this plane of existence. Let's change up the game plan a bit, here; all units, Remember Sixteen!" Ozma's orders were quickly met with an ambitious affirmation by his pilots.
Back on the Quarter's bridge, Jen turned back to Captain Wilder to inform him of the completion of her task. "All squadrons have been notified, Captain." "Thank you," Wilder responded. However, he could see that Jen's eyes were glazing over before she turned back to her station. She knew that those brave pilots out there probably weren't going to make it back home after this was all over; especially Cal. Indeed, it was difficult for her to relay the orders to the squadron leaders and keep her voice from gaining emotional inflections. There was still much for her to have to do and the prospect of the destruction of her own ship had to be causing a lot of damage to her concentration.
By then, both groups of Vajra had completely emerged from hyperspace and were charging at their targets at top speed. The group at the rear of the Frontier fleet had begun to assume a very aggressive attack posture. "The fleet is now in its defensive position in anticipation for the Vajra attack, Captain!" Monica reported. Captain Wilder simply nodded and turned to Commander Ortiz. "Execute the attack pattern, Commander." Ortiz turned to Bobby and nodded. Without hesitation, Bobby leaned into his controls and the Macross Quarter began to charge towards the front of the defensive line. No doubt, Captain Wilder wanted his own ship to flex its power in order to inflict as much damage as possible to the incoming Vajra fleet. If they were probably going to be destroyed, it would be better to be on the offensive, than to be cowering behind the cover of the rest of the fleet's ships.
With its Macross Cannon fully charged, the Quarter emerged from its resting position with ambition and Bobby was ready to unload his deadly salvo onto the nearest group of Vajra. Just as the Quarter raised its Macross Cannon into firing position, Lam turned from her station and called out to her commanding officers. "Wait! Don't fire on the Vajra!" A hesitant silence fell over the bridge as they waited for an explanation for her outburst. "These Vajra are emitting the same fold wave pattern as Sheryl and Ranka!" Commander Ortiz didn't have much time to deliberate; their survival was on the line. "What does that mean? Be quick about it!" he ordered.
Lam didn't hesitate to try to explain it as best as she could, "It's almost as if... as if the Vajra are singing the same song! It's like they're trying to tell us that they're here to help us. Maybe they're under friendly control!" Commander Ortiz didn't like to make assumptions and he was quick to respond. "I'm sorry, but that just doesn't seem like a good reason to risk our own safety." He turned to Bobby to speak again, "Proceed with the attack."
Fortunately, Bobby stalled for a moment. It was enough time for Captain Wilder to interject. "Hold your fire! She may be right. These Vajra don't seem to be moving with the robotic-like behavior that we've seen from the Galaxy-controlled bugs. If it's one thing that I've had to learn to believe in, it's the miracle that is the power of Ranka's and Sheryl's songs." Commander Ortiz couldn't believe his ears. "Captain! If she's wrong, we will be destroyed!" Captain Wilder simply smiled and made himself comfortable in his chair. Ortiz was powerless to do anything else. It seemed that the rest of the bridge crew were in support of the Captain's decision and of Lam's opinion.
The front-most Vajra cruiser assumed a firing posture and super-dimensional energy began to gather in front of its beam cannon emitter array. A unanimous gasp sounded on the bridge of the Quarter as they watched what could be their demise unfold in the distance. However, while it was charging up for a blast, the cruiser turned its attitude towards the Galaxy fleet in the distance; away from the Frontier fleet. With a powerful burst of energy, the cruiser fired upon one of the Galaxy ships on the edge of their defensive line. The Galaxy cruiser suffered a critical hit from the blast, causing it to break into half before both pieces exploded.
The advance wave of Vajra drones entered the Frontier fleet's formation without firing a single shot upon the friendly forces contained within it. Countless groups of drones took up defensive positions around the ships, including the area near the Quarter where Pixie Team had once been defending their mothership. The rest of the drones continued on to the front lines of the battle, no doubt to assist the Frontier forces in their mission. Sighs of relief and brief fits of relaxed laughter came from most of the bridge crew as they realized that they were actually being reinforced by the most unlikely of allies.
Several pairs of eyes focused on both Captain Wilder and Lam, in order to gauge their reactions. Captain Wilder finally cut the tension with a laugh that started out quiet and increased in intensity until the whole bridge could hear it. The rest of the crew couldn't help but smile and laugh along; they could just as easily have been killed by that moment, but things worked out in their favor. Nervously laughing it off seemed like the best way to deal with the overcoming feeling of relief that they were now sensing. "Lam, I need an open channel to the fleet," he ordered. She nodded just as he stood up to speak to the soldiers who were still fighting for their survival.
"Attention, all ships!" a brief pause followed his initial words, "These Vajra have not come here to destroy us; rather, it appears that they have come to help us quickly put an end to this deadly conflict. They resonate the same songs that Ranka and Sheryl sing for us and it is those same songs that have guided us to victory in the past. Together, as allies once again, we will put down Galaxy's tyrannical ambitions and maintain the freedom that we have all fought so hard to achieve!" Indeed, the Captain's words served their purpose well by further motivating his soldiers to continue fighting hard until the job is done.
Near the heart of the Galaxy's fleet, enormous confusion began to muddle both factions. Galaxy's fighters and capital ships scurried about to defend themselves from the unexpected attack from both sides. For the assaulting Frontier forces, they were still stuck between a rock and a hard place. "How the hell are we supposed to tell the good bugs from the bad ones? Didn't Captain Wilder mention something about the good ones 'resonating' the songs?" Cal asked. Ozma already knew what had to be done. "Luca, can you integrate your fold-wave sensor data with the targeting system and broadcast it to our computers?" "I'm already working on it, Commander. By differentiating the ones who are resonating the song in the fold spectrum, I can use my sensor data to tag the friendly Vajra with our own IFF signature. I'll send the procedure out to all of the RVFs in the fleet so they can relay targeting data to the fighters nearest to them."
Once again, Luca's expertise in electronic warfare is coming in very handy. Several moments after his response to Ozma's question, the targeting systems on all of the fighters refreshed with the new data. An endless sea of hostile signatures quickly diluted in number and revealed the true strength of the Frontier fleet's opponent. "Ah, that's more like it!" Ozma said, "Now we can finish this mission and maybe even go home after all of this is over!" The prospect of returning home after being deployed into space for the last couple of months was something that all of the pilots could look forward to.
Although they were now benefiting from the assistance of the newly-emerged Vajra fleet, the pilots on the front lines still had a fight on their hands. Completely surrounded and saturated by enemy fire, friendly pilots were being shot down at regular intervals. "Wagner, we're on a tight time constraint here. Where the hell are those MDE bombs?" Ozma barked while engaged in a dogfight with another VF-27. "These guys aren't stupid. They won't let me near their ships and I can't break through their defenses. As much as I hate to admit it, I need some help!" Cal replied.
His request for help was well-founded; each time he approached the cluster of ships positioned near the flagship, he would get rebuffed by a vigilant defense squadron. Even good pilots know when they're in over their heads, and Cal was no exception. He managed to survive several failed attempts to penetrate the defensive formation, but his luck quickly ran out. A group of emboldened Galaxy fighters finally began to chase him around, hoping to nullify the threat that he was carrying on the hardpoints under his wings. A trail of chaff and flares marked his escape route in an attempt to free himself from his pursuers. However, even his countermeasures had a limited supply. After only a few moments of pursuit, Cal's display counted down his remaining countermeasures until they all reached a large red "0".
With a click of his tongue, he snapped his throttle 90 degrees to transform his VF into a battroid. Still careening through space at high speeds, he was forced to use his gunpod to destroy the incoming missiles. Unfortunately, it was not good enough to fix the root of the problem; the pursuing VF-27s. A single 27 managed to grab ahold of the evasive RVF-25 and keep him in place to allow his partner to finally get rid of the pest. Cal groaned in his cockpit as he fumbled with his controls in an attempt to free himself, but to no avail. The tag-team was a more than he could handle and he could only helplessly watch as the second attacker began to charge at him with his combat knife in hand.
The attacker didn't get a chance to even get close to Cal before he was perforated by gunpod fire. Almost simultaneously, Ozma's battroid passed by them and ran his own combat knife longways through the hull of the VF-27 that was holding Cal in place. The now-lifeless 27 no longer had an iron grip on Cal's RVF and he did not have to try very hard to wrest free. In front of him, Cal could see Alto's and Ozma's VF-25s attempting to break the defensive line that had long been standing in his way. A moment later, Klan's red Queadluun zoomed by to join the incursion being led by Alto and Ozma. "C'mon, chickling! You're getting too slow!" she taunted. Cal simply shook his head and smiled while he flipped his throttle control back to the right and transformed his RVF into a fighter once more.
From the perspective of the Quarter, the Galaxy fleet was under heavy attack from the combined forces of the Frontier and Vajra fleet. Without warning, two dimensional rifts opened up near the cluster of ships protecting the flagship. Cal had finally delivered his MDE bombs right on target. An entire side of the flagship's defensive line was immediately consumed by the tactical bombs, leaving the precious command ship wide open for attack. Captain Wilder calmly sat in his chair and mumbled under his breath with a satisfied smile, "Checkmate."
The bridge of the Galaxy fleet's flagship was guarded by a small group of VF-27's while they kept a lookout for any incoming enemy ships. Almost instantly, they were forced to dodge gunpod fire from Alto and Ozma and entered pursuit of the two pilots. In their zeal to protect their mothership, they did not even notice that it was a feint move designed to draw the defenses away from the ship. Only a few moments later, the flagship's bridge was met with a red Queadluun holding one of their own fighters' gunpods pointed directly at the crew inside.
"Galaxy fleet, this is your last chance at surrender; save yourselves and the lives of your soldiers, or you leave us no choice," Klan demanded over the hailing frequency. Energy coursed along the length of the gunpod as she waited for an answer; threatening to make good on her promise, should they choose to continue fighting. It only took a few moments before a response began to play over the comm lines. "Her Eminence, Grace O'Connor, commands that we are to destroy any and all opposition to her desires. Under no circumstances are we to surrender to the likes of you!"
In a final act of defiance, the fleet's flagship began to accelerate forward; its intentions unknown. Aghast at their response, Klan hesitated for a moment before she convinced herself that it was okay to fire upon the bridge of an otherwise-defenseless ship. Unfortunately, her hesitation gave away too much time and she was suddenly rocked by a collision with one of the VF-27s who had been chasing Alto and Ozma away from the bridge. Her gunpod discharged, but her aim was compromised by the collision and the charged blast found its way into a non-critical area of the flagship. Significant damage was done to the area, but it was not enough to cripple it.
After a few seconds of forward velocity, a hyperspace portal opened up in front of the flagship and it exited the battlefield before too much collateral damage was inflicted. The VF-27 that had attacked Klan quickly retreated to join its mothership in the hyperspace portal. As the opening snapped shut behind the fleeing battleship, Klan scoffed at their cowardice. "They chose to leave their compatriots here to die, in the interest of saving their own skins..." She was quickly rejoined by Alto and Ozma, who had taken care of their pursuers just moments before.
From outside of the fleet, the friendly Vajra cruisers unleashed a salvo of anti-ship beam cannon fire, completely decimating the remaining capital ships in the Galaxy's formation. Seemingly, all that was left was to mop up the remaining hostile ships and start looking for survivors. If only everything were as easy as that sounds... Almost immediately after the Galaxy flagship retreated into hyperspace, another defold reaction formed directly in front of the remaining Frontier battlegroup.
From it, emerged the severely damaged Galaxy flagship, charging towards the direct center of the Frontier fleet. It was distinctly avoiding contact with the capital ships in the formation, opting to simply penetrate the line of ships to get into its interior. This action could only mean one thing: that it was going to self-destruct and take as many lives with it as it could, using another large-scale MDE bomb. It seems that suicidal attacks are the norm for the members of Macross Galaxy military; they were ready to die for the will of their Queen, or so it seemed.
The fighting at the front lines seemed to stop, as if everyone was gasping at the sudden development. All eyes were on the fleet, awaiting a response in an attempt to defend themselves. "Is that what I think it is?" Ozma rhetorically asked. "Those Galaxy cowards really have no limit to the levels that they will sink to in order to indoctrinate the unwilling," Klan replied with yet another scoff. The rest of the pilots watched the events unfold in the distance, quietly hoping that something will stop the impending suicide attack that's obviously intended to destroy the rest of the Frontier fleet.
"Bobby!" Captain Wilder exclaimed. As if he knew what the Captain was thinking, he quickly responded, "We just fired the Macross Cannon! It hasn't finished recharging!" "Dammit!" Wilder said while gritting his teeth. "Is there anything we can do to stop them?" Commander Ortiz asked. Captain Wilder sat in his chair with his hands clasped together while he tried to think of something to do. None of the Zentraedi gunboats were positioned to fire upon the intruding carrier. The only thing the ships in the fleet could do was to scatter their formation in the hopes that they could clear the minimum safe distance before the bomb went off. Smoke billowed from the carrier in several areas, as the turret emplacements on all of the Frontier ships were pouring their munitions fire on it in an attempt to stop the carrier from moving forwards.
The bridge crew of the Quarter watched while the carrier slowly penetrated deeper into the fleet's formation, awaiting the inevitable detonation of the bomb most likely housed and armed within the carrier's hull. Captain Wilder still sat in his chair, unable to reveal an ace hiding up his sleeve. From his perspective, this was one loss that his fleet was going to have to endure. His face slowly began to disappear behind his clasped hands, indicating that he did not have any further orders to his fleet or his ship. The sound of panicked chatter from the crews of other ships continued to echo through the bridge; words that would surely become their last.
It appeared that the carrier had reached an optimal point at which to set off its payload when the impossible happened. From some unknown position in space, a huge blast of super-dimensional energy engulfed the carrier. The hull instantly melted away, exposing the many decks underneath its metallic skin. Within microseconds, the superstructure of the ship vaporized and its soft insides did not last long while contained within the enormous amounts of energy being channeled through it. Once the blast of energy completely passed through the carrier, its charred remains were left adrift in space. Electricity could be seen coursing across several decks before the hulk finally exploded from its reactors going critical. Fortunately, it was a standard explosion, not the creation of a dimensional rift, as was the expectation. The MDE bomb within its hull was most definitely pulverized in the explosion, ensuring the fleet that it was safe from destruction once again.
Just as every single soldier in the fleet violently exhaled in relief, a Quiltra-Quelamitz battleship finished emerging from the hyperspace portal it had been traveling through while it fired on the kamikaze carrier. Just as the bridge crew of the Quarter began to wonder who the mystery ship was, the fleet-wide comm line opened to quench their curiosity. "This is the Eksidos now entering local space. I am Commander Jormun Amai. Quarter, what is your status?" a voice inquired. Captain Wilder responded after he finished exhaling in relief, "Quarter here. It appears that your arrival could not have come at a better time! We thank you for your assistance, Eksidos." "Better late than never, Sir?" Jormun responded. Captain Wilder nodded, "You got that right. Join the party; we'll need all the help we can get to clean this mess up." Silence followed Wilder's request. "Begging your pardon, Sir, but we are just here to collect what belongs to us. We won't be here for long, unless you are in dire need of our assistance," Jormun disappointingly responded. Almost immediately, Wilder knew what they were here for. "No, Commander, we should be able to manage without your ship's presence."
On the front lines, the fight's intensity was beginning to wane. After hearing the exchange between the Eksidos and Quarter over the comm line, Cal could distinctly hear Klan mumbling over the radio. "Crap... That's my queue. I guess I'd better get going," she said with a hint of dejection in her voice. "Huh? That's your ship? What do they mean by 'collecting what belongs to them'?" Klan remained silent as she tried to come up with a way to put things without stirring up any more trouble for herself. "I can't talk about it. You're just going to have to use your imagination. You're a sharp one; you'll be able to figure it out." Her red Queadluun immediately stopped what it was doing and charged back to its mothership.
"Where are you going? You're going to leave as quickly as you came?" Cal demanded. His RVF began to follow her Queadluun, but Klan quickly shooed him off, "No! You can't follow me! I'm sorry, Cal..." "...but, sorry for what?" He asked. Klan's face didn't look all-too-happy before she cut off the communication line to Cal's RVF. He still followed her, hoping that she'd eventually answer his question. Ozma's image then appeared on his console in Klan's place. "Wagner! I don't remember dismissing you. You need to get back here and help us finish the mop-up!" he curtly ordered.
Only after a moment's hesitation, Cal stopped his forward progress by transforming to GERWALK and reverse-thrusting to a halt. "Acknowledged, Sir." He then changed to battroid form and appeared to "stand" in space as he watched Klan's red Queadluun gradually disappear into the field of debris that separated himself and the Frontier fleet in the background. Once he could no longer see Klan, Cal quickly flipped his RVF over while transforming to fighter mode and boosted back to rejoin his squadron. Obviously, his mind was partially distracted by things that had nothing to do with combat.
Klan didn't get very far when she was inevitably contacted by Jormun's scolding voice over the radio, "For your sake, I hope that prototype isn't very badly damaged." "Well, 'hello' to you too!" she responded, "For your information, this baby is still in pristine condition- well, aside from a few nicks and scratches here and there... Tell those nerds in the technician team that they're going to be slobbering all over the combat data that I've managed to collect while I'm out here. You can all thank me later!" Jormun was not at all amused by Klan's jokes. "You do realize the trouble you're in over this, right?" She didn't have a witty retort for his statement. She simply acknowledged and cut the communications line with her mothership. For some reason, she didn't feel like hurrying back to her ship anymore.
After such an enormous battle, the soldiers in the fleet welcomed the approaching peace. For several weeks, they had all been looking for something a little more exciting than simple patrols and the occasional skirmish with a handful of Vajra drones. Their prayers had been answered with a battle that could have easily cost them all their lives. The realization of this fact gives them new meaning to the phrase "Be careful what you wish for". Now, they had to look forward to dealing with the pain of losing so many good soldiers, and the gruesome task of cleaning up the mess that they had made in defense of their precious fleet.
...
Despite being millions of miles away from the battle, the tense mood that had overtaken many of the residents on Aimo began to fade. Brera continued to watch his sister sing; studying her every facial movement and physical gesture in an attempt to understand the nature of her emotions when she sings. However, her behavior was somewhat different than when she normally sings at her concerts or in a recording session. When she was about to finish singing, the conclusion suddenly hit him.
"Did it work?" he asked. Ranka exhaled in relief as she opened her eyes and turned to smile at him. "Yeah. How did you know?" "While listening to you sing, I felt the same way as back when we were fighting to save the Vajra from falling under Grace's control. You've been blessed with an amazing gift; to be able to influence the Vajra from afar like that." Ranka began to blush, but she had to point out a slight error in Brera's statement. Shaking her head, she continued to smile as she replied, "I didn't influence them, I asked them. The Vajra are aware of Grace's intentions. Just like us, they are against the enslavement of the sentient species of this galaxy. It's not just our people she intends to conquer; she intends to harness the Vajra as her weapons of war. This is something that they cannot allow to happen, for both their own sake and for the prosperity of all life in this galaxy."
Brera simply began to chuckle at Ranka's answer. She started to feel a little uncomfortable upon seeing his reaction. "What? Why is that funny?" Brera stopped laughing and answered, "It's not. It's just that you are starting to understand what it means to truly be 'alive'. A year ago, do you think that you would have believed it if someone told you that you would be this involved in shaping the future of this colony and its relations with an alien life form?" Ranka stopped smiling for a minute and looked downwards to think about Brera's hypothetical question. "Not in my wildest dreams. I was a naive schoolgirl, trapped in a bubble of my own insecurities. You're right; I have changed a lot." A wry grin crept across Brera's face. "Well... you're still rather naive, if you ask me." Ranka gasped and playfully pushed Brera. "Shut up!" she said with a laugh.
Both brother and sister shared a quick moment of playful bantering and returned to their previous postures, overlooking the sprawling city from the balcony. Ranka became silent once more and hummed a tune while she closed her eyes again. He watched her in silence and waited for her to finish. Once she opened her eyes again, he had another question to ask. "What did you say to them?" "I said 'thank you'!" she said, turning towards Brera once more. She wore the same wry grin as Brera did just moments before as she continued, "I may be 'naive', but at least I have good manners and know when to say 'please' and 'thank you', unlike you!"
Ranka's mockery didn't seem to bother Brera all that much. He simply smiled and scoffed in return while looking back out over the balcony. After a moment of silence, Ranka inched her way closer to her brother and leaned against him, resting her head on his arm. Even though he was hardly human physically, Ranka knew that somewhere in his mostly cybernetic body, beat the heart of her loving brother. She could still feel the warmth of his body, reminding her that no matter how artificial he was, his soul could not be altered or compromised by technology.
…
Jormun stood in the hangar of his ship with his arms crossed while he supervised the repairs to the damaged interior. All around him, there were various mecha and soldiers moving about in an effort to deploy the ship's complement of fighters to help secure the fleet's position. Although Jormun knew that his ship was not necessarily needed at the time, he felt that it would be a sign of good will towards Captain Wilder to offer his ship's assistance for at least a couple of hours. It didn't take too long before the real reason for his presence in the hangar finally arrived.
The red Queadluun finally descended from the deck elevator and began to walk towards its holding pen. Klan finally got a firsthand look at the gaping hole she had left during her hasty exit back on Aimo. The results of her brazen actions were beginning to grind away at her sense of guilt and the sight of Jormun standing nearby the repair crew was not very comforting. He made it very obvious of his disapproval by staring directly at her Queadluun while she maneuvered her power armor back into its maintenance cradle. In an attempt to slough off her guilty conscience, she simply sighed and rolled her eyes in reaction to Jormun's tense demeanor.
A team of technicians practically jumped onto the now-seated Queadluun. They had missed their precious prototype and couldn't wait to harvest the precious combat and flight data that had been recorded during Klan's little excursion. As they scurried about the riggings to attach data cables and other maintenance attachments, the hatch popped open to allow the pilot to exit the craft. Klan made sure she grabbed her cockpit decorations before she descended onto the hangar deck. The first thing she did when she turned around was look directly at Jormun to see what he would do. He still stood with his arms folded and a disconcerted look on his face.
To her surprise, he simply flicked his head towards the hangar exit to tell her to follow him and then turned around to walk away. This was definitely not the reaction she had been expecting from him. Even though she wanted to believe that what she had done was not such a big deal, she knew that in reality, there was probably a shitstorm heading her way. The technicians and hangar personnel seemed to make an effort to avoid talking to her or even looking at her; they had probably been instructed to do so by the ship's first officer.
Klan had lost sight of where Jormun went, but continued towards the hangar exit anyways. Upon passing through the doorway, she heard his voice from her left. "Klan." She stopped, almost saluting him out of that nagging feeling of guilt festering in the back of her mind. "Sir?" He looked at her with a hint of disappointment, but she could also see some hesitation on his part. Something was keeping him from jumping down her throat. "Hit the showers. When you're done, report to the Captain's office on the bridge. It would be wise to get up there quickly." Klan stood there for a moment in slight amazement. Part of her just wanted to get the ass-chewing out of the way as quickly as possible. She nodded and continued into the locker room to get cleaned up.
…
While activity buzzed all around him in the hangar, Cal took the time to look over his ship after disembarking from the cockpit. Several perforations marked the hull of his RVF from some hits he had taken while battling Galaxy's forces. However, he focused on the nosecone and underside of the fuselage, where a large chunk had been taken off by the ace VF-27 pilot who nearly killed him. Coupled with the projectile fire damage sustained at various places on his craft, it was easy for him to put things into perspective when it comes to how close he came to buying the farm.
Pilots can't help but project some of their love towards their vehicles. Not only are they the vessels they use to fight, but they also protect the pilot from harm. Cal began to feel a bit of a sense of gratitude towards his RVF. As he started to realize how much damage he had really taken, he smiled at the fact that his bird had continued to operate at peak performance levels during combat. It gives one the ability to appreciate the work that was put into developing and constructing such an amazing piece of machinery. Even though it was an inanimate object, Cal treated it like it was a partner.
"Oh, man," he said as he ran his hands over the hull of his RVF, "They really did a number on you, didn't they?" He grasped at the edge of one of the holes in the ship's armor, taking care not to cut himself on the jagged metal. "We'll get you fixed up real quick so you can look oh-so-perfect once more!" he confidently stated. However, he couldn't help but continue to stare at the chunk of metal missing from the underside of the fuselage. His mind replayed the cause of the damage to his ship. That VF-27 Gamma turned out to be more than he could handle and his pride as a pilot nearly cost him his life.
"It looks like I couldn't handle as much as you could," he said to the bird, referencing his loss of consciousness while performing those high-speed maneuvers. While the RVF was able to react to his every command and did not seem to lose any of its structural integrity, the ISC and EX-gear systems had met their limits and his own body was not able to handle the g-forces reaching his body. He knew that once he had lost voluntary control of his body, the RVF's computer had to assist him in regaining control of his bird. "Thanks for your help out there. I wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for you," he spoke to his ship once more.
Just as he said that, though, he remembered the other reason he was still alive: Klan had saved his life once more. She was always there to protect him when he really needed her, and it was this fact that had pushed his feelings for her over the edge the week before; to the point where he couldn't contain them within himself anymore. On the other side of the coin, he'd been there to protect her on a few occasions in their past. Perhaps this was all she needed to feel the same way about Cal that he does about her.
He had stopped moving for a moment and stared through the hull of his RVF as he pondered those facts. After a moment of introspection, he snapped back to reality and turned to walk out from underneath his bird. He only managed to take one step when he saw Jen standing next to the ladder that led to his cockpit. She wore a smile and kept her arms folded while she watched Cal performing his strange pilot rituals. "What?" he asked. A slight blush found its way onto his face because he was a little mortified that someone had been watching him intimately talking to his RVF.
Jen just shook her head, indicating that it was nothing. "I am just curious to learn about the many little nuances and superstitions that pilots possess," she said as she approached Cal's position underneath his bird. "What is it you guys do under here anyways?" She stopped as she noticed the enormous chunk of armor missing from underneath the fuselage. "Yup. That's what I'm doing down here. It is really amazing the punishment these things can take and keep on flying," Cal remarked. "Wow... It's a lot different when you see this kind of damage up close. It really makes me realize how different our jobs really are. I sit in the safety of the bridge at my station and you and all the other pilots out here are constantly being shot at. I really don't think I could handle it, to be honest."
Cal smiled at her remarks. She really did understand that it takes a certain kind of person- albeit, a slightly crazy person, to be an effective combat pilot. "You may feel safe onboard a capital ship, but you could just as easily be annihilated by a well-placed shot from another ship. It's just our job to make sure that there is as little of a chance of that happening as possible," he replied. Jen was then reminded of the reason she had come to the hangar.
"I saw you out there busting your ass to keep us safe, but... I know you had other reasons," Jen remarked. "What reasons are those?" Cal inquired. He wanted to know what she really was thinking, rather than open his mouth, guess, be wrong about it, and look like a fool. "I saw you looking at me on the bridge. You still care about me, don't you?" Cal knew he had been found out and for some reason, he couldn't keep himself from blushing a little bit. "You saw me, huh?" He approached her, put both of his hands on her shoulder, and kept her at arm's length. "Let me tell you something about us pilots. We may simply love flying and fighting, but we always need a little more than just that to push us even further. You once told me that you do what you do because you want to protect what's important to you. Your family, your friends, the colony... Well, we have the same desires. When I was out there defending the Quarter, I wasn't thinking about whether or not I was going to survive, I was thinking about who really needs my protection. ...and at that time, it was you!"
Jen was dumbfounded by his words. "But I thought that you weren't interested in me. That's why you didn't ever want to be around me." Cal could almost see her response coming from a mile away. Shaking his head, he responded, "You can be friends with someone and still want to protect them as if they were extremely important to you. Ever since we met on Aimo, I have cared about your well-being. I may seem detached at times, but that doesn't mean that I don't care for you. Sometimes, I just have things going on that require my attention, but you will always be on my mind in some way or another."
Jen couldn't fight the urge to give him a big hug and she quickly succumbed. "Well, thank you for all that you do. I'm glad you made it back home alive," she said as she embraced him in her arms. Cal returned the hug and pulled away after a moment, making sure it was just enough to qualify as a "friend hug". "You're very welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I could really use a shower," he said as he lifted his arm to pretend like he was smelling his body odor through his flightsuit. Being as mischievous as usual, Jen had to stop herself from making a slightly inappropriate comment concerning "Cal" and "a shower". "Cal!" she said to stop him from walking away. He turned slightly to look at her and she continued, "Let's do lunch today!" He thought about it for a second and nodded in response before he continued walking towards the locker rooms.
