A/N: Wow, it's been a busy last couple of weeks and I apologize for the delay in posting a new chapter here. I guess this is a good place to let you all know that this may become the case from time to time, from here on out. I started school a couple of weeks ago and I'm taking a 15-unit load. Plus, I started a new part-time job. That means that I have significantly less free time to work on my story here. As a matter of fact, I'm glad I have a 3-day weekend. I'll have plenty of time to catch up on all of the homework I've let pile up because of this. I'm pretty excited to be going back to school, after such a long hiatus on furthering my own education. That means that this story will take a back-burner role, behind school and work.

Don't fret, though! I will be gradually chipping away at the story and I don't plan on stopping until I finish it. Just as a warning, expect there to be quite a few more chapters after this. I kind of wondered if some readers would think that I was winding things down after that epic battle a couple of chapters ago. This is not the case, though. There's still the issue of what to do with Macross Galaxy. They are still quite a threat to our friends in the Frontier colony of Aimo, and to the rest of the sentient life in our galaxy. This is, after all, one of the major loose-ends they left open at the end of the Macross Frontier series, and I intend on tying it up one way, or another.

A couple of noteworthy-things to mention to you concerning this chapter... First, I sort-of changed my writing style midway through this chapter. At the behest of one of my friends, I started to structure the paragraphs a bit differently. I have begun to break up dialogue between characters by starting a new paragraph when someone else begins to speak. This should help you differentiate who is speaking a bit better than before. Plus, I am able to go into further detail on the emotions or actions of that character while I am going through the dialogue. It starts out a bit rocky at first, but I get better at it as I progressed through the chapters following this one. If it kinda bugs you, just give it some time. Once you start to read the next couple of chapters, it starts to smooth out. Second, I am trying to make a concerted effort to feature the original characters from the series much more than before. I had several scenes featuring them in previous chapters that I had to just leave out, because the story was not progressing fast enough for my tastes. While the main story does follow my O.C., I do want to keep the other characters in the loop as much as possible. Now, the story has gotten to the point where the other characters will be more involved in the main storyline. You'll start to see more branched storylines featuring the other characters from here on out. However, you'll see more from Cal than any other one character, since he is pretty much the main character of this story. You might have noticed that I already started this habit from the amount of time that I spent writing them in during the course of the battle. Hope you like the changes that are coming your way!

Okay, so before I delay you much more from your reading, I will remind you all that you can 'favorite' this story on your profile. If you do so, will e-mail you when I post a new chapter. That way, you don't have to keep coming back to check for updates. Enjoy! -(09/05/10)


Support craft continued to pick away at the twisted hulks and various charred pieces of wreckage littered all throughout the former battlefield. The ships in the Frontier fleet held positions in the middle of the sea of debris. Derelict flotsam routinely smashed against the solid hulls of the capital ships while the ships themselves served as bases of operation for all of the rescue crews working hard to find survivors of this enormous battle. Craft could be seen picking humanoid-shaped figures from the occasional wrecked fighter or ship from both Frontier and Galaxy fleets. Friendly Vajra drones and cruisers still littered the area, doing their part to keep the area secure until they decided that it was time to leave.

The Quarter's hangar was busily processing some of the wreckage that had already been reclaimed by the rescue crews and a large section of it had turned into a scrap pile. An occasional Work Destroid would pick out the best-preserved piece and bring it to a makeshift forge so it could be restored for use once more. Several industrial welders sprayed endless showers of sparks as they shaped and crafted the metal to their choosing. However, there were several empty spaces where Skull Squadron's VFs were stored when not in use. Their vacancy was indicative of the lost pilots in the squadron's roster.

Alto stood in front of two empty spaces, while his own VF was parked nearby in its storage space. Two of the pilots in his team didn't make it back home and he continued to replay the moment of their deaths in his mind over and over. It was as if he felt like punishing himself by reliving that horrible moment several times consecutively. MDE bombs are a fearsome and horrifying weapon of mass-destruction, effectively ensuring the deaths of anyone who happens to be caught nearby the detonation of one of the devices.

Just like before, the sight of death and suffering of others evoked an emotional response from Alto. Seeing the empty storage spaces and the realization of the loss of two of his pilots fueled the fire of his burning determination to protect the people who mean most to him. This wasn't the first time he had lost pilots who were under his command, though. Even though he didn't fly with them for very long, he still felt that Maruyama and Kakizaki didn't deserve to die several months ago. They weren't the best of pilots, but they were good people nonetheless.

He began to take notice of approaching footsteps, but didn't turn to see who was coming his way. Stopping just behind Alto, Ozma dispensed some of his invaluable advice to the up-and-coming team leader. "I know that posture. Don't punish yourself for their deaths; it leads to a long cycle of self-deprecation," he said as he firmly gripped Alto's shoulder. The young pilot slowly turned to his superior officer after quickly absorbing the words of wisdom. "It's hard not to. I'm reminded of the reason I chose to join SMS in the first place. It was to keep good people from coming under harm; to protect them." Ozma smirked as he responded, "You mean people like Ranka?"

Alto was slightly surprised at Ozma's answer. He quickly shed his stunned demeanor and agreed within himself that Ranka really was the original reason he had joined SMS the year before. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I just couldn't stand not being able to do anything to help people and I realized that by joining up, I could finally make a difference." "How do you feel about your accomplishments to date? Do you feel like you've really accomplished something in becoming a pilot?" "Of course I have!" Alto replied.

Ozma smiled and retorted with the coup de grace meant to defeat Alto's inner doubts, "Then you've made the right decision. All of the pilots who fly under you and in the other squadrons? They all joined up for the same reasons as you did. Whether they shot down one bogey or one thousand bogeys, they all made a difference by simply serving in the military. Remember their sacrifice and honor their commitment; don't waste your time beating yourself up over it."

Alto turned back to look at the empty storage spaces again and he nodded his head in agreement while he soaked in Ozma's words of wisdom. A question popped into his mind after just a moment, "What kind of losses did we suffer?" Ozma briefly sighed and answered the question. "I also lost one of my pilots out there today." Alto was actually surprised to hear the news, but he began to try to learn what it is that Ozma does to help cope with his losses. "Nene and Ensign Garrett both lost their birds, but they're going to be okay. One of Kanaria's pilots lost his bird too, but as for Kanaria herself... The Monster is probably totaled and she's on the medical frigate."

Alto was again surprised by the news. "Geez... We're not in very good shape right now, are we?" Ozma wanted to agree, but he was more of a glass-half-full kind of guy. "We'll be back to full strength soon enough. I think for the time being, we can manage to do our jobs while we're a little shorthanded, right?" "Yeah, I guess..." Ozma began to inch himself away, but he wanted to leave Alto with something to look forward to. "I need to get up to the command deck for an impromptu meeting, but come see me in my quarters later. I have been hiding some twelve-year-old scotch in my footlocker. I'll share a drink with you to honor their memory, okay?" Alto had never seen this kind of straightforwardness from Ozma. Perhaps it was a sign that he was finally accepting Alto as a respected pilot and he might even start to lighten up with him, when it comes to matters concerning Ranka. Alto smiled and nodded to confirm his interest to Ozma.

Disappearing as quickly as he came, Ozma had left in his wake just the right words to assuage Alto's lingering feelings of guilt. Like any good leader and role-model, he knows what to do and say to keep his chicklings walking on the right path. Alto has always realized how fortunate he is to have an effective squadron leader like Ozma. He continued to stare at the empty storage spaces and in his mind, thanked his pilots for their fine service and their ultimate sacrifice. An apprehensive smile crept across his face as he began to come to terms with his loss.

A hesitant Klan stopped outside of the door leading to the Captain's office on the command deck of the Eksidos. She quickly checked over her uniform to make sure that everything was in place, but stopped midway as her mind tried to remind her that she was worrying too much about her fate. She took a deep breath and put on her best look of determination, ready to take on whatever the Captain was going to throw at her. She stood straight up and gained a more confident posture before proceeding through the door.

To her surprise, Jormun was sitting in the Captain's chair in his office, busily tapping away at the terminal on the desk. She quickly began to resent seeing him in that chair; he seems to be everywhere she doesn't want him to be. "Where's the Captain?" she asked of Jormun. He quietly finished typing and put down the tablet from which he was reading. "We had to leave him behind to come and get you. He was staying in Laplamiz overnight after attending an officer's party in the city when you decided to take the prototype for a joyride. He wasn't all-too-happy when I had to contact him to notify him and he ordered me to take the ship into space to retrieve you."

The longer this conversation was going to continue in this direction, the worse it was sure to get. Klan quickly tried to change the mood a bit, "Captain Geraum must put a lot of trust in you; leaving his ship under your command while you take it off-world without him." Feeding Jormun's ego appeared to reap the desired results and he seemed to open up a bit, "I've served under him for several months now, but he's known me for most of my life. My family has had a strong military tradition and my uncle served with him for many years. Ever since I was a child, I have always wanted to follow in the family tradition."

Klan smiled, because she knew exactly how that felt. "The story of my life..." she said with a bit of a laugh. The two Zentrans had a bit of a connection, but Klan knew that she was only humoring him to lighten the mood a little bit. It didn't take very long before he finally remembered why they were having this meeting in the first place, though. He sighed and changed his demeanor back to something similar to when he was standing in the ship's hangar waiting for Klan to return with the Queadluun Rasa.

"Unfortunately, I wish we could be having this conversation under better circumstances. I'm sure you already know that you're in quite a bit of hot water already, and you've put me in a really difficult situation." Here it comes... Klan had been expecting a verdict ever since the Eksidos defolded into the battlefield. "Since the Captain isn't here to make a final decision, procedure dictates that I simply confine you to your quarters for now. We'll be returning to Aimo shortly and I'm sure he'll want to speak with you directly over this matter," Jormun declared.

He was noticeably weighted with some form of guilt over having to make such a decision. Klan could sense that something was causing him to act with such apprehension. She was expecting a complete ass-chewing, but instead, she's just getting sent to her room. Instead of continuing the conversation, she decided to quit while she was ahead. "Understood. Is there anything else?" "No, Commander. Dismissed." Just as he responded, two armed soldiers entered the room and stood to the side of the door, as if they were waiting for Klan to walk past.

She briefly glanced at them before looking back at Jormun. He didn't seem to want to make eye-contact with her. "Nothing personal, Commander. I just want to make sure you get to your quarters without taking any detours," he said as he picked up his tablet again and started to read the text displayed on its screen. Klan quietly scoffed and turned to walk out of the office. While the two guards began to follow her, she smirked while she thought to herself a bit. "Now, that's more like it." If it's one thing she hates, it's being treated with kid gloves.

The command staff of the Quarter casually chatted amongst themselves as they waited for the final member of their meeting to arrive. Surely, they all had a lot to talk about concerning the events of the past couple of hours. Captain Wilder quietly sat at his desk and looked on until the door opened and Ozma rushed in with some paperwork tucked under his arm. In his haste, he dropped a couple of pages and knelt down to pick them up. "Sorry to make you all wait. The aerospace traffic around the Quarter was packed and it took me awhile just to get back on the ship."

Captain Wilder smiled before he answered, "It's okay, Ozma. We've all had a lot on our plates, for obvious reasons. Please, have a seat." Everyone quickly stopped talking to each other and took a seat near the Captain's desk. He took a deep breath before officially beginning the meeting. "Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say that I am very happy that all of you are able to make this meeting. Needless to say, it could have easily been a different story, had it not been for this fleet's incredible performance under pressure. Let's not forget our Vajra friends out there, too."

Everyone nodded and verbally agreed with each other over his opening statements. Captain Wilder then turned towards Monica to begin speaking again, "Monica, I'd like to start things out with you. You were on duty at the time that we came under attack. I expressed disapproval over your decision to hastily fire the Macross Cannon without authorization. Now's a better time to elaborate as to why you chose to overstep your bounds." He was already putting Monica on the spot in front of the rest of the command staff and it appeared to be a very cruel thing to do. However, his intentions were merely to test her mettle and see how she does in explaining her decision-making process.

After nervously clearing her throat, Monica answered the question, "Well, we studied an abnormal radar reading that laid just outside of the fleet's extremities. After spending some time analyzing the situation, I realized where I had seen those readings before. When we began our assault on the Vajra homeworld many months ago, we discovered that the enormous image of Ranka was merely a facade; a hologram. It was the same readings as then, except the hologram was of an asteroid and it concealed an Altair-class carrier. I knew that this couldn't be a good thing, so I ordered the ship into firing position and to have the Macross Cannon charged and ready to fire once you made it to the bridge. However, it appeared that when they detected our hostile maneuver, they initiated the ambush that they had been planning. Once I saw that there was a hostile fleet defolding all around us, I decided to open fire while we had the chance. The preemptive strike kept the carrier from being able to launch its complement of fighters."

Everyone attentively listened to her words and Captain Wilder nodded his head while he processed the situation in his mind. "Tell me, what made you override the protocol? Not having authorization to fire didn't stop you from making such a huge decision," Wilder asked. Monica smiled as she answered, "I was taught that sometimes, you have to make decisions based on the information that's available to you. Sometimes, waiting for the chain of command to make a decision could be devastating. In this case, I saw the opportunity to strike first and I took it." She heavily sighed in relief. Wilder continued to nod and wore a slight smirk on his face; he remembered that conversation he had with her in the past.

"All I can say is that you'll be a definite shoo-in when you get to your round-table interviews at NUNS HQ," the Captain confidently stated. Again, everyone in the room agreed with his statement and a round congratulatory glances bounced off of Monica. She sheepishly blushed, but did her best to maintain a strong composure. Wilder had one more thing to add, however, "Just make sure that you don't get overconfident. You took a major risk out there, but it was the correct decision. Good job!"

The meeting quickly moved on to the next subject. "Well, despite our numerous losses, we've been fortunate enough to find many survivors from the wrecked ships and fighters. We've even pulled some Galaxy soldiers from their ships and are already interrogating them to see what kind of information they will divulge to us." Commander Choi had to interject, "Interrogate them? They're all drones. They won't be easily cracked." Wilder answered her concern before moving on, "They may be drones, but they also have a lot of implants in their bodies. Their minds are being partially controlled through those implants and that means that we can actually 'hack' their minds like a computer. The higher-ranked officers retain some of their autonomy, but that also means that they can be persuaded to talk through more traditional means. The details of the interrogations are to be kept classified, so I don't want to hear about any leaks, is that clear?" His command staff nodded in acknowledgment. "We should be getting the first reports from the interrogations very soon, but those results will be disseminated to you all on a need-to-know basis."

"Aside from the obvious task of keeping this area secure, rescuing personnel, and salvaging materials from the shipwrecks, we also need to compile a report to send to NUNS Command on Aimo. I already spoke with Fleet Admiral Perry and several of his immediate subordinates and they are greatly anticipating our report. It looks like they're ready to put and end to the Galaxy threat, no matter what it takes," the Captain continued. He turned his chair to the side and reclined a bit before moving on with the conversation, "I'd like to submit the report as soon as possible, so that's why I called this meeting so quickly after the battle's end. I trust you all brought your completed reports with you?"

Nobody seemed to fidget uncomfortably in their chairs; an indication that everyone had come prepared. "Good. I have to say that I appreciate the speed and efficiency with which you all have been working. If we keep this up, we'll be finished with this campaign more quickly than we had originally thought. Let me have those reports," he said as he waved his hand inward towards his desk, "Does anyone have any questions about anything?" Everyone began to place their reports on his desk.

Commander Ortiz probably asked the one question that was burning a hole in everyone's minds, "Sir, do we have any idea how the hell Leon Mishima managed to find himself amongst Galaxy forces? Wasn't he supposed to be incarcerated on Aimo, awaiting the trial for his crimes?" Captain Wilder had wondered the same thing before his conversations with NUNS command. He slightly lowered his head as he answered, "The answer to that question is classified." Everyone in the room felt a little let down that they wouldn't get an answer. However, the Captain wasn't done with his answer, "He was abducted from captivity shortly after we first landed on Aimo. He's been missing for the past few months, but the military has decided to cover up his absence. It seemed that we had some Galaxy operatives entrenched in some of our security forces. If the population were to find out about this, it wouldn't look good for the military. I think it goes without saying that this information does not leave this room, got it?" Another round of acknowledgments floated towards him.

Captain Wilder then stood up from his chair, confident that there were no more issues to tackle at the time. "If there's nothing else to discuss, let's get to work. Dismissed." The officers stood at attention and saluted before leaving the room, single-file. The last officer to leave was Ozma and he was stopped just as he reached the door. "Ozma," Wilder said, "Just another moment of your time." He turned around and allowed the door to close behind him so the two would be left in private for whatever it is the Captain had to say.

"I know you're under a lot of pressure right now. I understand that you lost some pilots out there today, and I'm sorry to hear about your losses. I wish I could say that we all share your pain, but you and I both know that it's much more significant for you," Captain Wilder said with a heavy heart. Being a former pilot and a squadron leader at one time in his career, he has experienced everything that Ozma has had to go through, in one form or another. "You realize that I am going to need you and your pilots more than ever at this point, right?"

Instead of keeping the conversation in such a depressing state, Ozma smiled and answered the Captain's concerns, "We're more determined than ever to fulfill our duties. I've already taken the liberty of including my temporary changes to the squadron's roster in my report. All I need from you is the patrol chart and we'll be filling in each shift, without fail. You will also note in my report that I have presented my choice for squadron XO. I already spoke with him and his commanding officer just before this meeting, so I know that he survived the battle."

This was good news for Captain Wilder. It appeared that the conversation that they had the day before was what Ozma needed to get his sense of ambition back on track. He smiled in satisfaction as he answered, "I'm glad to hear it. I know I can always depend on you to keep this ship and the fleet safe. Good luck out there!" Again, Ozma saluted out of respect, but Captain Wilder preferred a handshake and placed his hand out over the desk between the two officers. Ozma laughed as he returned the handshake and left the office.

Elsewhere in the fleet, the medical frigate suddenly found itself overburdened with incoming patients, due to the recent battle. However, the medical facilities had instituted a "first-come, first-serve" policy; at the same time, ranking the patients through the standard triage technique. The pre-staging areas were surprisingly organized and calm, though.

In one of the rooms, Kanaria laid in her bed while she waited for a doctor to come by and release her. She was accompanied by an otherwise cheery group of pilots: all three of the other members of her Rabbit Team. They all chatted about the battle, in an effort to shed a more positive light on the otherwise grim results of the battle. Just as they were starting to become impatient in waiting for a doctor, a familiar figure appeared from the other side of the privacy curtain.

"So, this is where you guys have been hiding..." Ozma said to the pilots. He wore a friendly smile, which masked his strong concern for Kanaria's well-being. Everyone, except Kanaria, got up to salute their squadron commander; she saluted while comfortably remaining in her bed. "How're you holding up?" he asked of her. She sighed as the smile slowly left her face. "Well, I guess I'm doing fine, but..." she trailed off. Already having quite a bit of a rapport with each other, Ozma could tell that she wanted to speak with him in private over something that's chewing away at her mind. He turned to the other pilots to ask them a favor, "Guys, can you wait outside? There's something that we need to talk about alone." They quickly agreed and bid their team leader a goodbye before leaving her bedside.

After cheerfully watching them leave, Ozma and Kanaria looked at each other with a greater sense of seriousness. Kanaria started the conversation before Ozma could even ask her to speak her mind, "Ozma, I've been doing a lot of serious thinking since I was brought here earlier. That feeling that I had when I truly thought I was going to die out there... I don't know if I ever want to experience that again."

It was easy for Ozma to see where this conversation was leading. A little bit of frustration found its way into Ozma's voice as he answered, "Well, Kanaria, we all know that things like this will happen at some point in our careers. We were aware of the risks when we joined up, so I'm kind of curious as to why this was so unexpected for you." He put his hand on the bed in a comforting gesture.

"I don't know what it was, but I was scared out of my mind. I don't think I had ever come so close to dying in combat before. There have been many times when I was in a real bad scrape and simply bit my lip as I charged through the experience, but this one was far more significant," she continued. Kanaria looked down at the covers over her legs and quickly tried to re-imagine the feeling she had out on the battlefield. She shook her head and turned back to Ozma to try and convey the description to him. "I can't- I just don't want to think about it too much right now." She reached over and put her hand on top of his, which was still on the bed next to her. "Ozma, I am beginning to wonder if I can continue serving as a pilot. If this is how I am going to handle near-death experiences, then I won't be able to function without remorse while in the heat of a firefight. I keep thinking about my husband and son and it hurts me so much to imagine how they'd take it if I were to suddenly be killed in combat. It's really a feeling that's tough to overcome."

Ozma tried to relate by imagining how Cathy and Ranka would react if he were to die, but he knew that they were strong enough to be able to move on in life without him. If anything, they'd be thankful for his sacrifice; in knowing that everything that he's done in his life has really amounted to so much. Somehow, though, he could feel an inkling of that fear; probably the same fear that Kanaria was trying to describe to him. "Look, I can only imagine whatever it is that you're going through and I'm not going to try to blow sunshine up your ass. You do what you do because you want to give the best possible future to your son. Nobody's going to fault you for putting your family's safety and security before everything else, but I want you to seriously consider what it is that you're proposing. Perhaps the fear will pass; but if it doesn't, there are alternatives to simply quitting. You may seriously undervalue your worth in this squadron, on this ship, in the NUNS, and as a member of our colony."

Ozma's kind words of appreciation were too much for Kanaria to not smile when she answered him. "I know, Ozma... I know. Thank you for coming to see me and listening to what I have to say with an open mind. Over the last few years, I've watched you turn into a textbook example of how a squadron leader should be." After seeing Ozma's reaction to her words, she decided to talk about other important matters. "What's the word on the Monster? Is it as bad as I thought?"

A sigh preceded Ozma's answer, "Initial reports were that it is unsalvageable. I'll get a more detailed breakdown of the situation probably when I get back to the ship."

Kanaria looked back down at the covers on the bed again. A slight hint of disappointment shrouded her demeanor. "Damn. It looks like we'll have to get our hands on another one and that means that there's going to be a lot of work that needs to be done to customize it to my liking. What about my pilots? If I am not going to be flying anytime soon, what's to become of them?"

"Oh, I'll find a way to keep them busy and out of trouble. I'm going to take them back with me when I leave here, so I guess you can say goodbye to them in a bit," Ozma said with a smirk. In reality, he really needed them back in ready to fly again as quickly as possible. It looks like his squadron is going to be even more short on pilots, upon finding out about Kanaria's concerns over her own life and future performance.

Ozma didn't know about Kanaria's upcoming medical status changes, though. "Well, I'll probably be back on the ship very soon. I'm just waiting for a doctor to release me, since they are probably very short on beds and need all the space they can get," she replied.

Following a slight laugh, Ozma remembered something that he thought that she should know. "Oh yeah, that reminds me. I hope you don't mind, but they commandeered the Quarter's infirmary to service some low-priority injuries. They have a couple of doctors keeping an eye on the patients there, so things should remain under control."

The situation, while grim, was still a little humorous to Kanaria as well. "Alright, but tell them if I find anything out of place in my office, there will be hell to pay!" she said while shaking her fist at Ozma. It was as if she was using him as a conduit to convey her charged words towards those doctors who were probably enjoying her workspace as they spoke.

Ozma got up from the chair he was sitting in to head back to his ship. There was still a lot of work to be done and while he was not able to get any sleep the night before, he hoped that there would be time to rest as soon as all of the loose ends were tied up. "Alright, well... I've got to get back and I'm taking your chicklings with me. I guess I'll see you on the Quarter soon enough, right?" Kanaria nodded. Ozma looked back into her eyes with concern on his face, "If you think of anything you need to talk about, don't hesitate to give me a ring. I'm always an earshot away; you know that."

He left her alone in peace. Finally, she can get back to thinking about things the way they are. Although she appreciated her pilots keeping her company and showing concern for her well-being by visiting, she much preferred to be alone with her thoughts. It was clear that this was going to be a life-changing decision and she needed to make sure all of her ducks were in a row before setting out in whatever direction it is that she decides to go.

Ozma made sure he wrangled in her pilots to make sure they got back to their ship without distraction. "Come on, guys. I need you back on the ship and she needs to be left alone for awhile." The chicklings followed their brood leader down the hall, but they still made plenty of "peeps" and "tweets" along the way.

"Commander, are we going to be able to get back out in the shit without our team leader? She's going to be out for at least a while, right?" one of the pilots asked. At least they were looking forward to getting back on duty and flying once again.

Ozma scoffed at their zeal. "Don't you guys worry. I'll have you out there mixing it up again real soon. I need as many of you to be combat-ready in the shortest time possible."

Although they would much prefer to be on duty alongside their respected and admired team leader, they were happy to be looking forward to continuing their service without much of an interruption in their availability. The chicklings continued to chatter with each other while they followed Ozma to the transport docking areas on the ship.

While riding the transport to the Quarter, Ozma became lost in his thoughts. He certainly has a lot of decisions to make in the near future; but for the time being, he will have to manage with what he has in order to do his job.

After several hours had passed, Captain Wilder was still in his office working on his console. Although when many soldiers join the military and have dreams of becoming the captain of their own ship, they seldom grasp the enormous amount of work that must be done in such an assignment. Positions of command may have a sleek, glossy veneer of prestige and glory, but the amount of responsibility the rank carries is rarely acknowledged at the beginnings of a soldier's career.

Lam's voice began to play through the intercom system, "Captain, you have a call from NUNS Command on a secure line. Should I put it through to your office?"

He acknowledged her question and waited for the computer to display the call on his monitor. A progress bar appeared on the screen to track the completion of the signal's decryption. Once the bar filled up all the way, the large screen on the wall displayed an initially-grainy video feed, with several blurry artifacts at various places. After a couple of seconds, the picture cleared up and Captain Wilder stood from his chair to salute Fleet Admiral Perry, whose image was now being displayed.

"It's good to see you again, Captain," Admiral Perry greeted with a salute. After waiting for Captain Wilder to sit back down again, he continued to speak, "We've already gone over the bulk of your report and we're fairly satisfied with what we found in there. However, we did have a couple of questions that we want to go over with you."

"Fire away, Admiral," Captain Wilder said with a smirk. He sat in his chair with a confident posture while he awaited the inevitable inquisition.

Fleet Admiral Perry looked to the side at his console to read some of his notes to Captain Wilder. "You mentioned in your report that the Vajra that entered the battle late had done so to help you. It is your speculation that they were influenced by the song of Ranka Lee and Sheryl Nome. You also mentioned that the Galaxy-controlled Vajra were not affected by their song. Do you have any hard evidence of the difference in their behavior?"

"Yes, Sir. Once we detected their song on the fold spectrum, we did not notice any difference in the Vajra attack patterns. All throughout this campaign, we've recovered Vajra corpses that contain various cybernetic implants. It's even been witnessed by some of my pilots that they are being implanted while in their larva stages. Usually, a single VF-27 unit infiltrates the nest and brings with it the equipment for the procedures. We noticed that only some of the nests exhibited extremely hostile behavior, while the rest were quite docile. It is our assumption that those docile nests had not yet been infiltrated and altered by Galaxy agents, therefore, we did not destroy them."

Admiral Perry nodded to Captain Wilder's explanation. "And what do you think of the Vajra who appeared to help you during the battle?"

"Well, those Vajra were resonating the same fold wavelengths that we detected from the songs of Sheryl and Ranka. The best way that we can describe it is that they were... *ahem* 'singing' the song, in order to tell us that they were here to help. I know they may seem like mindless drones, but I am actually beginning to see a benevolent intelligence in them. I think that if we can learn to communicate with them on a more significant level, they can become powerful allies," Wilder confidently stated.

"So, it appears that the implanted Vajra do not respond to song, is this correct?" Perry asked. Wilder silently nodded in agreement. Admiral Perry sighed as he quickly mulled over a couple of thoughts in his mind. "I hate to admit it, but you may be right about the necessity to open up further relations with the Vajra. There is probably an enormous amount of things that we can learn from them, especially when it comes to new technologies. I'll discuss that in more detail with the Defense Council, though."

Perry reached over to his console and hit a single button to forward his notes on his screen. "The other thing we need to discuss is the reappearance of Grace O'Connor. Now, 'reappearance' is a term we are loosely using, because it's been theorized by some of our science officers that she never was truly destroyed. They tell us that she probably has found a way to um... 'digitize' her consciousness, thereby granting her some form of immortality. Obviously, if this is true, it means several things. On a positive side, it represents a significant advance in both computer technology and metaphysical biology. It may be worth the effort to somehow obtain this knowledge for our own gain, but that's for the politicians to decide. On the negative side, it means that the Galaxy threat will be difficult to overcome. We must first discover the nature of her 'existence' and then formulate a way to neutralize her. As long as she exists in some form, she will remain a threat to us and to all sentient life in the galaxy."

Captain Wilder attentively listened to his superior's words, but he felt like it was a good time to interject. "Am I correct in assuming that you may desire to 'capture' her, instead of outright destroying her?"

Shaking his head, Perry responded, "The thought has crossed my mind, but I don't know if we can spare the manpower for it. It would definitely lead to more casualties than if we went in with the intention of destroying everything. It pains me to say this, but we must consider the entire Galaxy fleet as a dangerous entity. Therefore, we should operate with the intention of eliminating them completely. At least, that's my take on things. Ultimately, it's the President's decision, so it will depend on him and his advisory committee."

Captain Wilder was inclined to agree with Admiral Perry, but there was something in his mind that he couldn't shake. He looked downwards as he decided to add a little bit of his own flavor to the conversation, "I can't help but wonder if we're missing something here... We only know of Galaxy's current status based on their military actions. What about its people? The citizens might be innocent, either because they don't know of what's going on, or they're unable to speak out against it."

"Yeah, we are considering the possibilities there. I will explore all of our options once the interrogations have been completed and the reports are submitted to NUNS Command. I hope to have some answers by this time tomorrow," Admiral Perry said as he started to wrap up the conversation. "Captain, I'm sorry to hear about the fleet's losses, but you and your men performed admirably under the circumstances. I hope they all know how proud we are of everyone out there. We'll be sending some help your way real soon, so sit tight." Captain Wilder stood up from his chair to salute, but Perry added one more comment. "You did real good, Jeffrey. Real good..."

Admiral Perry's use of Captain Wilder's first name in that sentence really added another level of sincerity to his words. The Captain returned the Admiral's words with a proud smile, "Thank you, Sir." With that, the screen blanked out, terminating their connection, and returning the office to the calm and relaxed atmosphere it had been before their conversation. Now, all that was left was to wait for an answer from NUNS Command about the next step in the campaign.