A/N: Has it really been almost four weeks since my last posting? Well, it's been pretty hectic, to say the least. I'm currently in the middle of Chapter 39, but school and work keep getting in the way. Things should calm down a bit after this week, so I hope to get a lot of writing done this weekend.

I've actually been doing a bit of a retrospective on my writing these past few months and I am starting to get to the point where when I read my earlier work, I consider it to be substandard. The whole debacle with the tense inconsistency early on still makes me facepalm. I want to fix it, but I just don't have the time to do that and work on continuing the story at a barely-decent pace. However, I am glad I decided to undertake this project. I realized that I have improved my writing skills several-fold and it's really coming in handy in school right now. I am currently taking an English composition class and my teacher has marveled at some of my work already. Several of my other classes have required short-answer and essay answers to test questions and my writing experience has given me the ability to present a well-structured, verbose, and thorough answer in each case. Believe it or not, I actually hated writing, but I always knew I was good at it. I remember when I was in the 7th grade, I failed the writing portion of what was called the "TAAS" test (I live in Texas), and had to take remedial writing throughout the 8th grade. Flash forward to my senior year in high school and I wrote my senior English term paper in two hours. It was a 6-page report with which I had done about 5 hours of research, and I got a 98 on it. Ever since then, I've known that I have a lot of potential as a writer, but I just simply hated it. I did this story because I had a story of my own to tell and to try and tie up some of the loose ends that left me begging for more at the end of the MacF series. I'm glad I did it, even though it's taken up so much of my free time. I can quickly admit that this story has gotten much longer than I had originally planned, but I am still very happy with the overall result. There's still plenty more to go before I can finally lean back in my chair, put my hands behind my head, and say "It's done."

Now we have the MacF movie 1 coming out on DVD/BD in Japan on October 7th. I would expect a few days to pass before the first fansubs start to show up on the internet. I'm dying to see what kind of story they wrote to retell the series. Perhaps seeing the movie will give me a little more drive to complete my story at a faster pace. I've already forged one upcoming scene for my story here, based on some of the clips of the movie that I've seen.

Alright, enough of my incessant babbling. I'll let you all get to reading Chapter 35, here. Get ready for a massive change of scenery! You'll see what I mean when you get done reading this chapter. -(09/28/10)


Ozma continued to pound away at his keyboard, despite fighting a serious bout of fatigue from lack of sleep and the stresses of the recent combat in which he had taken part. He strained to focus his sight on the computer terminal on his desk and frequently squinted or rubbed his eyes to soothe the discomfort of his exhaustion. Fortunately, his final order of business arrived right on time.

The door to his office opened and Cal walked in wearing his flightsuit and carrying his helmet under his arm. "You wanted to see me about my assignment, Sir?" he asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice. Obviously, he was completely in the dark about what he was going to be doing since every pilot in his team was either no longer serving on the ship or was out of commission for at least a little while.

Ozma quickly finished his work and got up to respond to Cal's inquiry. "I'm sure you're wondering what kind of work I'm going to have you do. As the only currently active member of your team, it goes without saying that your range of duties would be strictly limited if I was to send you out on your own." Ozma stopped talking to look out the window of his office and into the hangar. The activity out there was still buzzing and it served as a reminder as to the somewhat-crippled status of his squadron.

"Um, Sir?" Cal unintentionally hurried his squadron commander to spill the beans. By the time he realized that he was being slightly curt, it was too late to stop himself from saying anything.

Fortunately, Ozma didn't think negatively of Cal's zeal to get back on duty. He turned around and continued with his answer, "I'm sure you've heard about the squadron's losses by now. We also have several pilots who are unable to serve, including your teammates on Pixie Team. Right now, I need you to fill a much larger role than you are used to."

"I'm ready for whatever it is, Sir."

Following a quick smile, Ozma finished his request. "I need you to keep an eye on Rabbit Team until Kanaria gets back on duty. You'll be serving as the interim team leader for now, so here's your assignment for today," he said as he handed Cal a tablet containing the orders for Rabbit Team.

Even though Cal might have suspected this to be the reason that Ozma had summoned him, he was still a bit surprised and even felt his ego inflating a bit. He gladly accepted the tablet from Ozma and saluted, "You can count on me, Sir!"

A quick salute in return and Ozma dismissed Cal. Surely, he had nothing but sleep on his mind, now that he had tied up all of the necessary loose ends for now. After he watched Cal leave the office and head towards his RVF in the hangar, Ozma quickly gathered up a few of his personal belongings from the office and headed towards the living areas of the ship.

While the bridge crew busily toiled at their stations nearby, Captain Wilder stood next to his chair and looked out of the side of the bridge. He kept his hands folded behind his back as he seemed to be counting the number of stars that dotted the black tapestry of space. Breaking his concentration, Lam announced an incoming message.

"Captain, you have a message coming in from the Eksidos," she reported.

Captain Wilder turned around to acknowledge her. "Put it up on the main monitor, please." A moment passed before Jormun's image appeared on-screen.

Several Zentraedi soldiers worked behind him on the bridge while he reported to the Fleet Captain. "Captain Wilder, I am sorry to inform you that we must be returning to Aimo now. As soon as the last of my support craft check in at the hangar, we'll be entering fold space."

Wilder smiled at the professionalism that Jormun uses when speaking to a superior officer. "Your help is greatly appreciated, Commander. I do have one thing to ask of you before you go. I have a message for you to deliver to your captain when you return. Its contents are for his eyes only, so if you can just do me that favor, I'd be very grateful," he said as he punched a couple of keys on his console to transmit the message.

Jormun looked to the side of the screen towards the terminal at his side; its chime informed him of the successful receipt of the message. "I would be honored to do you that favor, Sir. Please, let me know if there's anything else we can do to help."

Captain Wilder shook his head in response. "You saved our asses out here. You and your crew have done more than enough of a favor to us. Please send our regards to your captain and to the rest of your soldiers." Wilder paused for a moment, nearly turning away to cut the communications line. "Oh, and Commander?" Jormun perked up to listen to Wilder again. "Your formality is impeccable. Although I can appreciate and respect your approach in communicating with other officers, you can always take a more casual demeanor with me. You'll find that it's much easier to forge more personal relationships with your peers if you speak with them on a more nonchalant basis."

Jormun was a little surprised at Captain Wilder's suggestion, but it was unbecoming of him to refer to his superiors in such a lackadaisical way. "Thank you, Captain. I might try that sometime," he said. In his mind, he knew that he was just giving lip service, but he had to maintain a respectful composure while responding to the request of a superior officer. With a quick salute, Jormun cut the comm line and prepared to order his ship to leave the area.

A small group of fighters led by an RVF-25 casually passed between two capital ships in the fleet's formation. Cal generally remained quiet while his wingmates carried on with their usual chatter. It either appears that they're taking advantage of the fact that Kanaria is not there to keep them in line, or she simply allows them to chatter with each other while on duty.

Just as the group began to approach the Eksidos's position, the Quiltra-Quelamitz class capital ship accelerated forward and folded into hyperspace. Cal was somewhat shocked at their abrupt departure, but he was more upset over the fact that the ship carried away one person who held significant importance in his life. She had come and gone that quickly, and didn't even bother to try and contact him over the last few hours since the battle had ended. The whole situation developed into a bit of an annoyance to Cal.

The pilots of Rabbit Team continued with their inane chatter. "Oh no... There goes the Eksidos! Whatever will we do?" one pilot sarcastically remarked. "Bah, nuts to them. Those Zentrans just want to sit around and do nothing on Aimo while we're out here doing all of the dirty work," another pilot replied. "Hey, it just leaves us with more action. We don't need 'em!" the third pilot said.

All of a sudden, the incessant babbling became more than Cal could handle. After hearing their slightly-disrespectful words about the Eksidos and its crew, Cal gritted his teeth and grimaced while he tried not to blow up over the entire situation. "Don't you guys ever shut up?" he finally barked.

The talking suddenly stopped and all three pilots turned their mischief towards Cal. "Whoa! He finally speaks out! What, you didn't like us bad-mouthing the Eksidos?" Cal didn't answer their question, he simply waited for them to say something else to piss him off. "Wait, wait, wait... Isn't that the ship that Commander Klang transferred to? Oh, that's what it is, isn't it, Lieutenant? I heard from the rumor mill that you have a thing for her. So, is it true? What's up with you two? We saw you flying alongside her during the battle. You can tell us, we won't gossip about it. We promise!"

Before answering, Cal had to fight off the urge to vehemently deny the truth. He knew that it would give away more than he wanted to make known. "Based on your ability to not shut the hell up, I wouldn't trust you guys with even the most insignificant secrets. Besides, you guys know how much she and I constantly butt heads with each other. What would make you think that such a preposterous rumor could really be true?"

"Hey, we know that your roommate and Lieutenant Rora are an item. It's not so far-fetched of a concept... We're pretty sure that you both have a thing for Meltrans. All you have to do is just say it!" one pilot answered. Another one had to throw in his two cents, "I don't know, Wagner... if I had the chance, I'd be all over Commander Klang in a heartbeat. She's kind of cute in her miclone form, but when she's in her Meltran form, she can do anything she wants to me!" All three of the pilots clamored with each other in agreement, laughing at their own comments on the subject at hand.

However, Cal didn't like what was being said and almost felt a sense of possession when it came to talking about Klan like that. "Put a sock in it, pilot!" he exclaimed. Immediately, he knew that it was a huge tell and the pilots of Rabbit Team immediately took advantage of his reaction.

"Ah! See? He does have a thing for her! You see how he gets jealous when we talk about her?" one of the pilots declared. The other two pilots confidently nodded in agreement. "Don't get so pissed off, Wagner. I only said that just to see how you'd react. I think we got our answer, even if you didn't want to tell us!" A couple of chuckles could be heard on the comm line after that sentence.

Cal had to deal with a patchwork of emotion in that very instant. He was already a bit pissed that Klan didn't bother to contact him before the ship left, then the embarrassment of their inquisition over his feelings for her, and now his jealousy-fueled anger over their comments about her. He finally managed to put away his uncontrollable urge to react over their words and took a deep breath to calm himself down. "You guys have no idea what the hell you're talking about. I just respect her, that's all. She's one of the best pilots in the fleet and she was my commanding officer before she transferred. I just don't like it when people talk about her, or any other Zentraedi soldier, like that. We Humans may be somewhat different than they are, but they deserve our respect and admiration for all that they do. She's saved my life on several occasions and I owe her a debt of gratitude for it."

Silence fell over the cockpit for a couple of moments before one of the pilots finally spoke again, "Whatever you say, Lieutenant. You can't hide the truth forever, you know..."

Cal acknowledged within himself of the accuracy of the pilot's statement. There will come a time when all truths will be revealed to everyone. However, he chose to focus his concentration on what could possibly be going through Klan's mind. After such a glorious reunion, she abruptly left him on the battlefield. Her mothership remained in the fleet for several hours after the battle was over, but she never made any effort to contact him. He couldn't help but feel a little angry and frustrated over such a hasty departure and the lack of any kind of follow-up from her.

After having caught a few hours' worth of sleep, Ozma was accompanied by an officer from another ship as he gave a bit of a tour of the Quarter's hangar area. "...and of course, this is the pilot's and hangar crew's locker room," he said. The air was warm and humid from the showers running on the other side of the wall next to where they stood. The locker room buzzed with activity, since an entire shift of soldiers had just finished their duties. Several pilots and crew were dressing for their upcoming on-duty shift, while the rest were cleaning up for their off-duty time. Cal and the pilots of Rabbit Team were among those who were getting cleaned up after completing their shift.

Ozma observed his crew scampering around in the locker room for a few moments before he let forth a sharp whistle. "Alright, everyone! Listen up!" He waited for a moment for everyone to stop what they were doing and to pay attention to him while he made an announcement. The showers in the next room turned off and a handful of pilots appeared in the doorway, with their towels wrapped around their waists. "I want to introduce you to someone. This is Lieutenant Commander Les Thompson and he will be our new squadron XO. He has served with distinction in the NUNS as a member of the elite Diamond Force unit, and he came highly recommended by his squadron leader, Commander Machida. Salute!" he barked.

Everyone in the room stood at attention and saluted their new squadron second-in-command. Commander Thompson returned the salute and happily greeted his new crew. However, Ozma wasn't quite done with his set of errands. He noticed Cal standing to his left, almost ready to leave the locker room. Cal had already finished changing into his uniform and he had his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Wagner!" Ozma barked.

Cal stood at attention again, "Yessir?"

Ozma casually walked over and started to dust something off of Cal's shoulders. "Your rank insignia seems to be losing its sheen and is unbecoming of a pilot of your rank," Ozma said as he unfastened the insignias and removed them. He then put them in his pocket and then pulled out a small box from the same pocket. "Fortunately, I have a new set for you right here," Ozma continued. He opened the box and pulled out the new insignias and showed them to Cal before reaching over to put them on his uniform.

To Cal's surprise, the insignia was that of a first lieutenant. He realized what Ozma was getting at and began to beam with excitement.

"Wagner, you have consistently shown your aptitude and skill as a top-echelon pilot and leader both in and out of combat. Your contributions and potential have been duly noted on several occasions by your superiors. You have demonstrated your ability to make good decisions in combat, and to be able to keep your cool under extreme pressure. Because you already exhibit the qualities of this rank, I have decided that there is no need for you to have to test for your promotion. Therefore, I hereby bestow upon you the rank of First Lieutenant. Congratulations!" Ozma finished speaking just as he finished fastening the rank insignias onto Cal's uniform. He then stood back and saluted Cal.

Cal was ecstatic as he returned the salute. Even Commander Thompson showed respect by saluting as well. Cal quickly noticed this and turned to salute the new squadron XO once more. The pilots and crew in the locker room began to whoop and whistle for Cal, while several of them approached him to give him congratulatory pats on the back. Cal was all smiles while he received adulation from his squadron mates. Before he finally left, Ozma reached outwards to shake hands with Cal. It was quite a sign of respect and Cal quickly grabbed Ozma's hand and shook it. "Thank you very much, Sir!" he said with gratitude in his voice.

"We'll get you your very own team as soon as there is an opening, but for now, you can work on keeping Rabbit Team out of trouble for Kanaria," Ozma said with a smile.

After Ozma finally left the locker room, the trio of pilots in Rabbit Team approached Cal and began to jostle him around in a playful manner. "Ha ha! I guess we don't have much of a choice but to show you the respect that you deserve now, huh?" one pilot jokingly said. "You're having dinner with us tonight. We'll show you how Rabbit Team unwinds after a hard day's work!" another pilot remarked.

It seemed that Cal didn't have a choice, but a bit of a celebratory meal did sound like a hell of a time. He quickly agreed to their proposal, "I'll be there!"

Aimo's afternoon sun bathed the Zentraedi starport with an orange-hue and the Eksidos once again rested in its moorings on the shore. A handful of welding crews worked to repair several dents and holes in the ship's hull that had been caused by collisions with debris floating around the battlefield out in the Coral system.

Finally reunited with his ship, Captain Geraum sat at his desk while he worked to catch up on his duties. The chime on his office door alerted him to someone's presence on the outside. "Come!" he beckoned. Seeing that his visitor was whom he had expected it to be, he casually invited her inside. "Ah, good. You're here. Have a seat, Commander."

Klan made sure that she put on her best form of presentation while she was there. If she was going to be handed down some form of punishment, she was going to accept it with dignity and poise. As she sat down in the seat in front of his desk, the Captain got up and walked over to a small table on the side of the room.

"Would you like some tea?" he casually asked as he began to pour a cup from the pot that was sitting on a warmer.

Klan noticed that he already had a cup on his desk and it was still steaming. It looked like she didn't have any choice, since he appeared to be already pouring her a cup. "Um, sure...!" she responded.

He handed her the cup of piping hot tea and walked around to his side of the desk to sit back down again. He pushed a plate of pastries towards her, "Danish?" She simply smiled and took one of the sweet delectables off of the dish. However, after she took a bite, he retracted his hands and rested his chin on them with his fingers intertwined. He seemed to be putting a lot of thought into what he was about to say.

This behavior was a bit alarming to Klan and she began to think about what was about to come out of his mouth. "What is he buttering me up for?" she thought to herself.

"Let me tell you a little story, Commander... Many years ago at the academy, there was a little incident involving a tightly-knit group of pilots. They were performing routine training maneuvers based off a single Northampton-class cruiser a few light years from the Solar System, when they came under attack by a small fleet of uncultured Zentraedi. In order to save the ship and its crew, the captain ordered a space fold to retreat to the safety of the Earth's defense frontier. Unfortunately, a couple of the pilots were left behind because they could not make it back to the ship in time." Captain Geraum reclined in his chair as he recalled the events of the past. "Two of the pilots who had made it back in time pleaded with the captain to let them return and rescue their friends. Unfortunately, the captain had to assume that the abandoned pilots were a lost cause. It was a prudent decision and he was choosing the correct course of action. However, this was not to the pilots' liking. They somehow believed that their friends were still alive and that it would be worth risking their lives for in order to rescue them. Sometime in the night, those two pilots snuck into the hangar and stole their fighters. They then looted four prototype fold boosters from the storage areas and blasted their way out of the hangar before folding back to the last known positions of their friends."

At this point, Klan understood why he was telling her this story. She could only guess as to the point that he was going to make, though.

"When those two pilots re-entered the area in which they had left their friends, they began to search for any signs of their position. Miraculously, they made contact with the lost pilots, who had been hiding inside of one of the sub-planetary bodies nearby. Unfortunately, their presence was then detected by the uncultured Zentraedi fleet and they came under heavy fire while they frantically fought for theirs and their friends' survival. Somehow, they made it to their friends' positions, attached the two extra fold boosters to their fighters, and successfully folded out of the system and back to the fleet."

Klan smiled while Captain Geraum leaned forward over his desk and towards her and asked a question, "Do you have any idea who those two reckless pilots who saved their friends were?" Klan shook her head before he answered his own question. "I was one of those pilots and the other... was your mother."

Klan nearly reeled in shock at the answer. She couldn't help but laugh a little bit in disbelief, "What?"

The Captain nodded as he continued, "I was in the academy with your mother so many years ago and we felt compelled to save our friends from certain death. Needless to say, we were scared to death when we returned to the fleet. We were certain that we'd be kicked from the academy and brought under indictment for theft and destruction of government property. However, we were called into a meeting behind closed doors to discuss our fate. Our superiors were definitely more than upset with us, but they also made note of our heroism, excellent performance under pressure, and flawless execution of our plan. We were let off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist, and the matters of the case were classified beyond our level of clearance." He cupped one hand over the side of his mouth, as if he was telling a secret. "The funny thing is that we didn't even have a plan. We just did what we thought was right!"

Klan smiled and tried not to laugh. "It sounds like your superiors were more than willing to cover up the mess that you made. What is it that makes them want to do so?"

Captain Geraum reclined in his chair once more. "Well, it's what we call the 'pilot's prerogative'. Every once in awhile, pilots come along who just seem to have a sixth sense about things. Even though their superiors disagree with them, they are stubborn enough to listen to their instincts and do what they know is the right thing. I'll just say it... Sometimes, you just have to let pilots fly to their hearts' content. Those pilots will always get the job done, no matter what the circumstances. With them, the ends always seem to justify the means. Your mother and I were not the first people to do what we did, and we certainly aren't the last." A smile crept across his face as he glared straight at Klan.

"What does that mean?" Klan asked.

Captain Geraum slightly turned to look at his computer monitor. "I got a communique from your former ship's commander, Captain Wilder. In it, he and your old squadron leader, Commander Lee, invoked this very 'pilot's prerogative' in pleading for a little bit of lenience with your punishment. They make the claim that your actions ended up saving countless lives of pilots and soldiers in the fleet. They also said that your combat performance was 'unbelievable'... you single-handedly scored innumerable kills while behind the controls of the Rasa."

Klan tried so very hard not to let those words get to her ego, but it was too much for her to handle. She started to puff out a bit with pride.

"The technicians are still analyzing the combat data you collected and I can most-closely describe their current state-of-being as 'euphoric'. I've been told that the project can progress forward by several steps because of the information that you've made available to the team. Even they asked that I go easy on you so that they can keep you as their test pilot," the Captain said with a laugh.

Klan smiled, but she still didn't want to fully believe that she was going to be off the hook. "Well, I can't help but wonder what your final decision will be, though."

He stared at her for a moment before he chuckled. "You are your mother's daughter..." he said as he got up from his chair to stare out of the window that faced the ship's bridge. "You're probably wondering why I haven't mentioned anything about knowing your mother up to this point, huh?" Klan nodded, even though he was turned away from her. He quickly answered his question again, "I have to admit... I had a bit of a crush on your mother when we were in the academy. I had never met such a strong and independent woman and I knew she was going to go far in her career. She was a damn good pilot and I couldn't help but feel attracted to her. Unfortunately for me, she was already in love with an upperclassman at the academy. After our graduation, we both signed up to join the Frontier fleet, which was about ready to depart from Earth on its mission. We tried to remain in contact following our graduation, but life seemed to get in the way and we slowly drifted apart. Before we stopped communicating with each other, she had told me that she had a baby girl... I'm guessing that it was you she was talking about."

Klan smiled at the feeling of nostalgia emanating from Captain Geraum. Even though it was a little strange hearing about events that transpired before and around the time of her own birth, it was refreshing to hear a story about her mother's past from another angle.

"When I first met you last week, I felt as if I had seen you somewhere before. I didn't make the immediate connection, but eventually, I realized that you were Marjel's daughter. You have no idea how much you remind me of her and quite frankly, it brings back good memories of my youth. Once I realized who you were, I felt compelled to contact your mother and check in to see how she's doing."

"What did she say to that?" Klan asked.

"Well, she seems to be very happy. I'm surprised she has already retired, but I guess she just enjoys the family life. The way she was going back then, I had no idea that she'd end up settling down like that. Regardless, she still managed to serve a productive and successful term in the NUNS and I'm happy for her. I spoke to her earlier today and I have to admit, we did have a good laugh with each other when I told her what you had done."

Klan suddenly felt shocked and embarrassed upon finding out that her own mother now knew of what had happened in the last 24 hours. This conversation might have to end quickly before she finds out more than she really wants to know. "So, what's to become of me, Captain?"

He smirked at her apparent masochism; her desire was to just take her punishment and get it over with. "I don't have any problem writing off this incident as a case of 'pilot's prerogative'. However, I don't appreciate you blasting holes in my ship's hull. You're going to be spending time with the repair crew until the damage to my ship is completely repaired. Any questions?"

Klan shook her head. "No, Sir."

"Alright... report to the hangar and get to work," he said as he stood up to salute.

Klan saluted in return and left the office thinking about what had just transpired. She could have easily put her career in serious jeopardy, but she has to feel fortunate that it wasn't the case. Although she seems to have come out of it without any serious repercussions, she has a bit of a task to complete as punishment. The embarrassment of having to be seen doing manual labor with the repair crews might get a few laughs from the project's technicians and from her own pilots. She continued down the corridor with a wry grin on her face, "It was totally worth it, though..." she thought to herself.

After spending the last day together on the Zentraedi medical frigate, Will and Nene finally returned to the familiarity of their own ship. While walking down one of the corridors in the ship together, their conversation was interrupted by raucous noise coming from the direction of the mess hall. Compelled to investigate, they looked into the mess hall to find that a large group of pilots and crew gathered around Cal, who was standing on to of one of the tables with a shot glass in his hand.

With a slightly-slurred voice, he spoke to everyone in the room. "Okay, everyone... shut up for a sec. Shh! Shush!" he barked. It took a few moments for the rest of the crew to stop talking. Once he was sure he had their attention he boldly declared what he wanted to say. "I just want to shay that I think it would be a good idea if we had a bit of a moment of shilence for all of those brave sholdiers who lost their lives out there last night. May they rest in peace for eternity." He raised his newly-filled shot glass above his head. "We won't forget your sacrifice. This drink is for you!"

The rest of the room grunted in agreement as they each took a shot of their drinks. A perfect silence fell over the room for a moment while they all paid their respects to their fallen comrades.

After waiting for a bit, Cal broke the silence once more. "Alright! My damn glass is empty again. Someone help me out here!" he said as he put his shot glass out like a beggar asking for loose change. More grunts and yells filled the room and someone poured another shot for Cal. Once more, raucous laughter and chatter filled the room.

Upon seeing this unorthodox display of debauchery, Will and Nene rushed into the room to find out what the fuss was all about. Will raised his voice to be heard above the noise. "Hey! What the hell is going on in here? Why was I not invited to this little shindig?"

Cal heard the voice of his roommate and a look of surprise fell over his face. "Hey! Look who it is! You guys got back just in time to help us shelebrate!" he said as he turned away to tap his shot glass against another pilot's glass.

Will's question still had not yet been answered. "Celebrate what? Cal! Over here!" he yelled.

Another crew member answered Will's question before Cal turned back towards him. "He just got promoted and we're breaking in his new rank with some good ol' whiskey."

Cal responded to the crew member's answer by showing off his new rank insignia on his uniform and playfully growling at Will and Nene. A permanent smile had adhered itself to his face, no matter what he did or said.

"Well, alright! Congratulations, Cal!" Will said. He and Nene were ecstatic when they heard the news, but they were a little concerned about the drinking that was, most likely, unauthorized. "Where did you guys get some whiskey?" he asked the crew member.

"I don't know who brought it, but I'm sure that they had been hiding it and saving it for a special occasion," the crew member replied.

Nene grabbed Will's arm and pulled him in closer so she could speak into his ear. "You know that they're gonna bring a shitstorm of trouble down on themselves if Ozma or one of the other commanders sees this. We need to get Cal out of here and break up this little party before someone really gets hurt."

Just as Will nodded in agreement, Cal lost his balance and fell off of the table, straight onto the floor. "Oh shit!" While he tumbled to one side, the table fell the other direction. He was left lying on the ground with his legs propped up on the table's side and holding his head from smashing it on the deck. While he grimaced in pain, he continued to laugh at his own stupidity. Most of the crew members laughed at his misfortune, but only Will and Nene seemed to be concerned enough to not find it very funny.

Nene jumped into the middle of the group and began to shove everyone away from Cal. "Alright, that's it! Break it up, you guys! This party is now officially over!" Everyone started to groan and continued to dawdle, hoping that she'd change her mind. She knelt down to help Will pick Cal up off of the ground and over his shoulder. Seeing that nobody had started to leave, she turned back towards the crew members and snapped at them. "Now! That's an order!"

Seeing that she meant business, the crew members began to scatter, leaving the mess hall in a bit of a state of disorganization. Nene stood up with Will to help him carry Cal on his shoulder and they left the mess hall as quickly as they could. Cal remained motionless and his arms and legs hung down like he was a rag doll. He kept on muttering gibberish while his body dealt with his drunkenness and enormous headache from falling to the ground. Somehow through all of it, he still held onto his shot glass.

Once in their quarters, Will managed to toss Cal onto the bottom bunk without hitting his head on the shelving again. He grabbed a small flashlight and checked Cal's pupil dilation for any signs of a concussion. Fortunately, there was no immediate evidence of any damage and Will took off Cal's shoes to lift his legs up to the bed. While he waited for Nene to return to the quarters, he fixed his gaze on the new rank insignia on Cal's uniform and began to wonder when it would be his turn to get promoted.

The door opened and Nene entered the quarters with a cold pack and a small packet in her hands. Will got a glass of water from the bathroom and opened the packet to reveal its contents. He picked up Cal's head and inserted a pair of pills before putting the glass of water up to his mouth. Cal seemed to resist, not fully aware of what was going on. "Eat these, Cal. One's for the headache, and the other is to help your body metabolize the alcohol so you'll sober up real fast."

Cal processed the words for a moment before he finally accepted the pills into his mouth and drank the water from the cup. "Wait... what? What the hell happened? Why does it feel like my skull is being split open by a jackhammer?"

Will and Nene looked at each other and laughed. She then took the cold pack and broke the seal between the two chemical compartments to start the endothermic reaction inside of the packet. She sat down and placed the cold pack onto Cal's head and answered his question. "Those guys really got you smashed. How many drinks did you have?"

Cal thought about his answer for a minute, but his memory was quite fuzzy. "I... I don't know. I can barely remember anything." He fell silent for a moment before he put his palms onto his forehead and spoke again, "God, I can't believe I let them talk me into drinking. I guess you guys got there just in time to keep me from getting caught, huh? I guess I owe you both one."

They both laughed again at his brutal honesty. "Let's just say we're even now. You saved us both out there on the battlefield, we saved your ass from getting chewed out here on the ship. Fair trade? I thought so too!" Nene jokingly replied. Cal kept his eyes closed while he smiled in response to her joke. The only thing that he wanted to do at that moment was to finally get some rest so he'll be ready to perform his duties the next day.

A few hours later on the Quarter's bridge, Captain Wilder sat in his chair while he worked at the console to his side. His crew worked diligently to coordinate all of the ship's activities, both inside and outside of the hull. Almost as if he expected it, the Captain casually looked up towards the radar station just as several warning chimes began to sound.

"Defold reactions forming outside of the fleet!" Monica exclaimed.

She turned to see a stoic Captain Wilder remain motionless in his chair. "Don't worry about it. The fleet is getting reinforced. As for us, well..." he said as he turned his gaze towards the main monitor in front of him.

Many defold reactions had formed outside of the fleet's extremities and a mixture of Zentraedi and Human capital ships emerged from the portals. Among them was an enormous Nupetiet-Vergnitzs battleship, spanning over four kilometers from bow to stern.

Like clockwork, the Quarter received an incoming transmission from the battleship that had just recently entered the area. Without hesitation, Lam put the transmission up on the main screen for Captain Wilder to be able to interact with the individual on the other side.

"This is Rear Admiral Toral Raozj to Fleet Captain Wilder. We stand ready to relieve you of your station, Quarter."

Mena quickly turned to Lam at her side, "Did he say 'Relieve'?"

The Rear Admiral continued with his introductory statements. "Captain Wilder, you are hereby permitted to relinquish your title of Fleet Captain. I'll take command of the fleet from here," he said with a friendly demeanor.

Captain Wilder got up from his chair to salute his new superior officer. "'Rear Admiral', huh? No longer a Fleet Commander, Sir?"

Admiral Raozj shook his head in response. "No, as part of the process to assimilate my fleet into the colony's forces, I was given a comparable rank in your hierarchy." Following his answer, he shifted his posture a bit before speaking again. "I am sending you new orders from NUNS command, Captain. On behalf of my men, I wish you luck on your new assignment!"

Everyone on the bridge began to look at each other with confusion written on their faces. Captain Wilder quickly scanned over the orders from the Admiral and turned to his crew on the bridge.

"Jen, recall all of our fighters and inform me when the hangar is secure and all personnel are accounted for. Mena and Bobby, when you are ready for a fold maneuver, let me know. We're going home, everyone!" he gladly declared.

Everyone suddenly smiled and looked at each other with excitement. "Yes, Sir!" they all chimed in as they turned towards their stations to complete their duties with zeal.

Within several minutes, the Macross Quarter majestically exited the fleet's formation and entered into hyperspace. The portal shut behind them and motes of super-dimensional energy floated away from the brief singularity left behind in its wake. The fleet was now back at its former strength, and was left in the capable hands of the NUNS's newest rear admiral.