A/N: School's been keeping me pretty busy. Unfortunately, I've found another game to take up some of my free time. Dungeon Defenders is everything I'd hoped it would be, since I've been eagerly waiting for it to come out for a couple of months. I'm not gonna go into any details, but check it out. It's available on all platforms, including iOS! I'm pretty much past the "honeymoon phase" now, so I'll be using more of my free time to write.
I got to watch the 2nd Frontier movie this weekend WITH subtitles. Again, the wait was well worth it. I liked the movie overall, but the ending was a little "meh". One thing that jumped out at me was that there were things in the movie that I've actually written into this very story! I was a little miffed about it, but as they say, "great minds think alike". All throughout this wait, I was hoping that the movie wouldn't turn out to have too many similarities to my story, both already-written material and material that I have planned for the future. I think my planned ending is still in no danger of being too similar to the movie's ending. Again, if you see something in this story that was in the movie, it probably will be coincidental. I didn't see anything in the movie that I really wanted to use in this story, so just take my word for it there. ;)
Anyway, this chapter went a little long, but that just means more material for you to read. I finished the first draft of Chapter 50 last night and hope to start working on 51 sometime this week. Until next update...! -(10/30/11)
During the early morning period where the night sky begins to turn from charcoal black to deep violet, only the most ambitious of citizens are out of their homes and already working to accomplish their goals for the day. But even they rely on someone else to prepare their choice of breakfast for them, since they seem to be too busy to do it themselves. Part of the morning commute frequently involves a visit to the local coffee brewery or doughnut shop to fill up on caffeine and pastries before another hard day of work.
One particular shop, strategically located near a busy intersection, readied for the early morning commuter rush. Although there was not yet a lot of vehicle traffic nor pedestrian traffic, the lights were on inside of the kitchen area behind the front counter. The "open" sign was not yet illuminated and the customer lobby lighting was also off.
Despite this fact, a luxury sedan casually pulled into the empty customer parking lot and quickly occupied one of the handful of spaces adjacent to the building. After a moment, a lone figure emerged from the driver's side, wearing a heavy coat, a hat, and a loose scarf. Instead of proceeding to the shop door around the corner, the character chose to remain in the poorly-lit lot, pulling his coat sleeve back to check the time on his watch. He slowly walked over to the building's wall near his car and reached into his pocket. He clutched a pack of cigarettes in his hand after drawing it out from the coat's pocket, a lighter wedged between two of his fingers. It took several shakes of the package before a lone cigarette fell into his other hand. "Tch... dammit..." he mumbled under his breath. He sighed, crumbled up the empty wrapper, and chucked it at the nearby dumpster with an overhand throw. Without even looking to see if his throw hit its mark, he lit up the cigarette, cupping his hand over the flame to keep the cold breeze from blowing it out. The initial inhalation seemed to be purposely drawn out over the course of a few seconds, before he finally exhaled and leaned against the wall in a relaxed pose. He checked the time once more.
Suddenly, the shrill ringing sound of a phone coincided with the watch turning to 5:00 AM. The shadowy figure lifted his hand to his mouth to take another drag of the cigarette between his fingers. He exhaled and put his hand back down at his side, the smoke quickly dissipating into the air in front of him. He allowed the phone to continue ringing for a few seconds, before it abruptly stopped.
"Go ahead..." His voice seemed unnatural; there was an echo-like, monotonous tone to it. However, his lips weren't even moving and both of his hands were at his sides.
"What is your situation?" another similar, monotonic voice replied, "Her Eminence requests a progress report."
"My team has met each milestone set out in the plan. As of right now, we're on schedule."
"I need you to accelerate that schedule," came the curt reply, "Her Eminence is concerned that our location might be compromised before Her preparations are complete. The encounter in the Kihnes Asteroid Belt has been deemed a major setback to the overall plan. Their fleet was supposed to have been wiped out, but a large percentage still remains. Now, they are spreading out to search for our position with great zeal."
"Understood. We'll do our best to step up the pace."
"Remember, that your job is to help make sure that they don't find us before we're ready; do whatever it takes. If you succeed, She will keep Her promise of granting you eternal life, freed from the bonds of your mortal shell."
Several moments of silence passed by. It seemed that he was taking in the thought of such a grand offer. "What of the songstresses, Code Fairy-9 and Code Q-1?"
"They are of no use to us. If the opportunity arises, dispose of them. They both pose a significant threat to us. However, do not lose sight of the main objective."
"Roger that. Unfortunately, I think it's best we end this transmission before it gets eavesdropped. Their counter-intelligence units are extremely competent."
"Don't fail Her." The response was short and straightforward.
The silhouette slowly emerged from the alleyway, stopping just at the edge of the light shining through the window from his left. The customer lobby lights were now on, and the "Open" sign cast its digital hues out onto the street. Only part of his clothes and the tips of his shoes became illuminated, still hiding his identity in the darkness. The smoldering cigarette suddenly fell to the ground; its appearance featured a pair of gold stripes around the filter paper. It was no match for the underside of his shoe, as he ground it into the pavement with a quick, pivoting movement centered on his toes. Two figures, who had been standing nearby, approached him from his right side; their feet stopping right next to his.
"What did they say?" one of the two other men asked.
"We need to pick up the pace." His voice now sounded normal, not so monotonic this time.
"Oh... Did you tell them about the little setback we just had?"
"No, and they don't need to know. Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it myself." There was an obvious hint of annoyance in his voice.
"What next, then?"
"First, we're gonna get some breakfast..." came the reply. It seemed as though he was referring to the doughnut shop right next to them. "...Then, I need to get another pack of cigarettes."
"Why do you smoke those things? They can't be good for your body."
"Once we're done here, we're not gonna need these bodies anymore. I might as well indulge in a little bit of reckless hedonism while I can."
"Good point."
Their feet quickly moved out of view, leaving the smashed cigarette butt on the pavement; the distinct gold-stripe pattern on the wrapping paper was still visible. The entrance bell on the door to the nearby doughnut shop chimed, signaling their entrance.
…
Right about the same time on the outskirts of the city, Ozma emerged from his bedroom, dressed in uniform. A backpack hung from his shoulder by one strap as he quietly tiptoed down the hall towards the stairs. Even though he was taking care to remain quiet at this early hour of the morning, he stopped at the top of the stairs to think to himself for a brief moment. He pulled his sleeve away from his wrist to check the time on his watch and quickly put his arm back down to his side. After another moment of reflection, he turned his head back to look at the door to his guest bedroom, soon turning the rest of his body in line with his view.
The door to the guest room was shut. Ozma approached it and raised his fist up to give it a good knock, but he stopped himself short of making contact with the door. Holding this pose for a moment, he soon changed his mind before he made his presence known. He put his hand down and went back towards the stairs, shaking his head in apparent disappointment.
Downstairs, he took a brief moment to admire the clean and organized state of his living room. He then turned the lights off and noticed a light shining under the door leading to his garage and his beloved Lancia Delta. As he briefly wondered whether or not he'd remembered to turn off the light the night before, he heard something metallic clanging on the hard pavement on the other side of the door. Suddenly, his worst fears quickly ran through his mind and he made a dash for the garage.
As the door flew open, an exasperated Ozma hung from the knob, having stumbled down the two steps leading to ground-level in the garage. His car appeared to be untouched and unharmed and he quickly regained his composure.
Cal suddenly appeared from behind the car, rolling into view using the mechanic's creeper upon which he was sitting. The wheels made a slight squeaking noise and he stopped himself with his feet. "Hey, Ozma!" he greeted. His hands had several dark stains on them and there were a couple of spots of grease on his face, probably from when he accidentally touched it with dirty hands. He held an opened oil can in between his legs on the creeper.
Following a sigh of relief, Ozma walked around to the other side of the car to see what Cal was doing. "You gave me a good scare, there. I thought someone was trying to get their hands on my car." He stopped a few feet away when he saw that his scooter's motor housing was dismantled. "What are you doing?"
"I've been putting a lot of miles on this baby. I figured she was overdue for a re-lubing." Cal used his feet to roll himself and the creeper back next to the scooter. "I took it to have its tires replaced, too," he said as he started to pour the lubricant from the can and into a funnel seated in the engine, "Looks like you've had it sitting in storage for quite some time. She just needs a little bit of work and she'll look like new again." He wiggled the inverted can to shake the last few drops out, before removing the funnel and screwing the cap back onto the engine block.
Ozma smiled at the fact that Cal was so eager to take care of the scooter. "I thought you were still asleep, since your door was closed. I almost knocked to wake you up. Don't you have an early-morning meeting with Cathy?"
"Yeah, but I wanted to get this done. I couldn't sleep anyways. There's so much on my mind right now..." Something clicked in his head and he turned his head to look back at Ozma. "How come you didn't knock on my door earlier?"
"Well... I was kind of hoping that you would get yourself back on track on your own. You'd been sleeping in so much lately and I didn't want you to miss your appointment." Ozma smirked and looked away. "Then I realized the possibility that you might have Klan in there with you..." he said with a slight laugh, "That would have been pretty awkward."
Cal didn't really laugh, though. He simply raised one eyebrow, as if he was trying to figure out why something so asinine would come out of Ozma's mouth. "I wouldn't do something like that in your house. I kinda consider it to be disrespectful. Besides, I haven't seen her since she left the picnic yesterday afternoon." He turned back to finish putting the cowl back over the engine on the scooter.
"That's okay, Cal; I don't mind, really. Mi casa es su casa...!"
Cal sighed upon hearing Ozma's response. "Well, we'll see, I guess... Somehow, I doubt we'll be seeing much of each other for the time being. Looks like I'm going to be very busy until we ship off and I'm sure she will be too."
"Are you guys gonna be okay with that?"
The engine cover snapped back into place with a loud "click". Cal reached down to pick up a soiled rag and wiped his hands as he stood up from the creeper, turning back towards Ozma. A confident smile appeared on his face. "Honestly, I'm happy with the fact that we're in complete understanding of each other. We'll find time to spend together eventually... Until then, we both understand that we lead separate lives and that some things are more important right now."
Ozma stared blankly at Cal following the response, as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"...but yeah, I do miss her already..." Cal concluded with a laugh.
"There you go." Ozma smirked to himself as he reached over to the wall and punched the button to the garage door opener. He then opened the driver's side door and tossed his backpack into the backseat. He put his arm on top of the car and rested his chin there for a moment; a pensive look appeared on his face. "Cal," he said, waiting for a response.
"Hm?"
"When we get back from our mission, you can keep the scooter."
"Oh, that's okay, Ozma, I -"
"Just -" Ozma interjected, lifting his hand to hush Cal from responding, "I'm not going to need it and you've shown that you are willing to take care of it." He chuckled to himself before he continued, "It was my primary mode of transportation when I first joined the Frontier fleet, but then I never used it after I bought my baby, here." He gently stroked the glossy surface of his car's body. "I was going to let Ranka have it when she turned 16, but now that she's a big celebrity, she won't be needing it, either."
Cal had a slightly surprised look on his face as he scanned the scooter with his eyes. He hadn't really thought about the fact that it almost belonged to a famous singer. Then he realized that he'd already met her and had conversations with her. It wasn't that big of a deal, all of a sudden. "Well, thanks, Ozma!" he replied with a smile.
Ozma left his car door open and walked over to one of the closed cabinets lining the garage wall. "As a matter of fact, I had bought a new helmet for her to use," he said as he rummaged through the items inside of the cabinet, "Obviously, that scooter is built to seat two people. I figure, since you and Klan are going to be hanging out, whenever that may be, it would be nice to get to drive her around." He laughed to his own remarks as he pulled out a cardboard box with graphic markings of a safety helmet printed on the sides. "It's kind of hard to impress women when you can't drive them to your date together."
Cal accepted the box, briefly looking at the pictures on its sides before looking back up at Ozma. He was surprised at another sudden display of generosity from his commanding officer.
"When she's in her miclone form, Klan is fairly close to Ranka's size. This helmet should fit her just fine." Ozma turned his head and nodded in the direction of the cabinet from which he had just retrieved the box. "There are several accessories for the scooter in there. There's even an attachable mount for the extra helmet, so you can carry it around with you when you two are not riding together." He had made his way back to the driver's side of his car as he spoke, stopping just before he sat down inside.
"Gee, I don't know how to thank you for all of this..."
"Then don't," Ozma said with a smirk on his face. He already understood what Cal was wanting to say and didn't want to let things get too mushy. "Listen, I gotta get going. I'll see you later."
Cal took notice of Ozma in full uniform, inquiring about the occasion, "Are you reporting for duty already?"
"Yep! While you guys have a couple of days left off-duty, we've got things to take care of. I've got a meeting with the Captain and the rest of the command staff on the Quarter this morning."
Suddenly, the thought of a meeting reminded Cal of his pending rendezvous with Cathy at her office. He placed the box containing the new helmet on the counter, next to his own helmet and goggles. "Oh yeah... I'd better go get ready, too..." Just as he said that, his phone chimed with an incoming text message. He quickly reached over to grab his phone off of the tabletop with a anticipation.
Ozma had a feeling of the nature of the text message, judging by Cal's reaction. "That her?"
Instead of replying, Cal just smiled and nodded as he looked at the screen. He quickly began typing on the screen to reply to the text, before placing it into his pocket and heading to the door leading into the house.
Ozma laughed to himself as he finally sat into the driver's seat of his car. The engine quickly turned over and hummed with mechanical precision underneath the hood. He poked his head out of the window to say one more thing, "Good luck out there, today."
"You too, Sir," Cal responded as he stopped next to the door. He reached up to the garage door opener button on the wall, waiting for Ozma to move his car out onto the driveway. As the Lancia Delta began to back out, Cal casually saluted Ozma with two of his fingers, receiving a similar gesture in return. The garage door quickly sealed the cold winter air outside once more.
…
The Zentraedi starport outside of Laplamiz was just getting its first kiss of sunlight as the Coral star began to peek over the side of the nearby mountain. The Eksidos, firmly cradled in one of the dry-docks on the base, was blanketed with scaffolding. Dozens of Zentraedi workers toiled away on the hull of the capital ship, but the nature of the overall project was difficult to determine at a glance.
On the side of the ship, one of the hangar doors remained wide-open, exposing the rows of craft inside. A large ramp connected the hangar deck with that of the dry-dock. A small stream of incoming and outgoing Zentraedi personnel took up a small portion of the ramp, while heavy machinery and craft moved back and forth on the rest of the ramp. Several human-piloted Work Destroids were busy loading supplies into the ship's hangar.
Among the personnel moving off of the ship, Klan paid little attention to those around her. Her focus was set on the phone in her hands; she appeared to be reading something displayed on its screen. She only needed her peripheral vision to make sure she didn't bump into anyone else in front of or beside her. Just as she finished typing a message, she felt a familiar presence next to her.
"Hey, Commander!" Jormun, the ship's first officer and her former upper-classman, casually strolled next to her, as if he'd been there the all along. His uniform still showed prominent creases on it. No doubt, his appearance was very important to him at all times. "Texting at this time in the morning?"
Klan managed to resist the urge to sigh out of annoyance. Although Jormun was being a bit nosy, she still managed to turn to him and flash a smile, "Yes. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason... Just my miserable attempt at making small-talk," he replied with a nervous laugh. He paused for a moment as he noticed that she was actually smiling. "You've been in a good mood all night. You're walking with an extra bounce in your step, too. What's the occasion?"
There was no way that Klan was going to spill the beans to this guy. A vague, but amicable response should be all he needs. She looked up at the early morning sky as she responded, "Let's just say that things have been going my way lately. It's a good time to be alive...!"
"Wow!" Jormun replied with a laugh, "That response is totally unlike you..."
At this point, she had not yet realized that her disposition had literally changed overnight. It didn't take long for her to figure out what the cause was, though. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... just deal with it."
An uncomfortable silence filled the air between them after they both chuckled to each other. The sound of the nearby soldiers' footsteps was only accompanied by the distant mechanical sounds of the destroids moving up and down the ramp.
Klan suddenly yawned out loud, breaking the relative silence after it was only a few seconds old. "I'm so tired... I can't wait to get home and crawl into bed. These late-night, last-minute meetings aren't going to be a regular thing, are they?"
"I wish I could tell you 'no', but I'd be lying." Jormun took note of the faint rings under Klan's green eyes. "Yeah, you definitely need some rest, there," he said with a nervous laugh once more, "Go home, get some sleep, and I'll see you later tonight at the next meeting." He casually waved as he increased his walking speed down the ramp. Klan simply smiled in response, but it caused Jormun to slow down again, upon seeing her reaction. "I like your new look, by the way!" His voice was partially drowned out by a passing Destroid.
Another uncomfortable silence hung in the air, but just for a brief moment this time. Klan had no idea what he was talking about and slowed her walking pace.
Jormun quickly followed up his compliment to alleviate any possible misunderstandings, "The smile." He pointed his finger at her face from his position a few feet away.
"Oh," Klan replied, sighing in relief a moment afterwards.
Jormun put on a confident smile, seeing that she now understood what he meant. "You should smile more often, Klan. It looks great on you." He quickly turned around and walked at an increased rate again, leaving Klan behind to mull over his compliment.
She began to wonder if he was hitting on her, or if he was just genuinely complimenting her. Regardless, she had to deal with the fact that someone was noticing that something was different about her. For the longest time, she's been regarded by others as an ice-queen. Perhaps this "smiling" business was a good thing; it couldn't hurt to try it out, at least.
…
"Thanks for coming on such short notice," Cathy said to Cal as she turned to look at him. They both stood in an elevator in full uniform, patiently waiting for the cab to come to a halt at the desired floor. She caught him in the middle of a yawn and smirked. "Did you not get enough sleep?"
Cal briefly felt embarrassed about his yawn. "Honestly, no. I just had a lot on my mind, that's all."
"Understandable," she replied with a friendly smile, "I hate to have to throw you into such a predicament, but we're running short on time and I need to take advantage of this opportunity." She sighed as she thought about what to say next, turning her gaze towards the polished metal doors in front of them. "I understand that you have a testing schedule to deal with at Bell-Casse. I'm sorry to have to have to put you back to work before the rest of your squadron mates. You will still have to report for duty on the Quarter in a couple of days. I'm sure you wanted to get a few things done before then, huh?" She then put a wry grin on her face and looked at Cal out of the corner of her eyes, "...and I'm sure you want to spend some time with Klan before you both head back out to space, right?"
Cal couldn't help but smirk at her last question; there was no hiding the truth from her. "That would be nice, yes." He grew silent as he briefly replayed in his mind the conversation between the two of them the previous day at the paintball park...
Cathy and Cal sat opposite from each other at one of the tables in the pavilion, while the rest of the picnic attendees paid attention to Captain Wilder and Commander Ortiz off in the distance. Nobody else was sitting near them. Satisfied with the conditions of their meeting, Cathy finally began her conversation.
"I need to talk to you about this," Cathy asked with a notable tone of curtness in her voice. She deftly used her finger to spin her tablet around on the table and pushed it towards Cal, who was noticeably apprehensive.
It only took a mere moment before Cal recognized himself in a video playing on the tablet's screen. He seemed to be starring in a candid video taken at the political rally the day be before the picnic. From the video's shakiness, it appeared to have been shot by someone's cell-phone camera from in the crowds. Even though the tablet's volume setting was low, the dialogue was clearly audible, revealing every word from his confrontation with the crowd and the media reporter. He slouched his posture out of embarrassment; judging from Cathy's tone of voice, he may be in a bit of trouble. "Oh, uhhmmm..." he stammered.
"My office has been getting hit with calls from various inquirers, asking for information about you and confirming whether or not you are, in fact, active in the service." Cathy looked like she was quite annoyed with the situation. Surely, she was a very busy woman and the last thing she needed was to have to handle so many incoming phone calls.
Cal felt his butt sliding forward in his seat; he must have been subconsciously trying to hide himself under the table.
"Lieutenant, you have to watch what you say and do in the public eye. When you're off-duty, you're free to do as you please, but be aware that if you misstep somewhere, people will only use that example as a broad brush with which to paint the rest of the NUNS. We can't really handle bad publicity at this point in the conflict with the Galaxy fleet. The people are becoming war-weary again and we can't afford to lose their support." She finished her brief monologue and took a deep breath. What needed to be said was now said. She quickly began to take note of Cal's deteriorating condition. "Don't worry," she said, suddenly putting an amicable smile on her face, "You're not in trouble. As a matter of fact, I see a bit of an opportunity here."
"Oh." Cal slowly sat back up in his chair and folded his hands in front of him. Still, though, he wasn't sure of where Cathy might be going with this. "I'm afraid I'm not quite following you. What did you have in mind?"
While he continued watching himself in the video playing on the tablet, Cathy answered his question. "Remember how we were talking about politics at Ozma's house just yesterday?" She waited for him to nod, despite still having his gaze directed towards the tablet. "Well, this video showed up on the colony internet last night and it's been getting a lot of views and reposts on various social networking sites." She paused until Cal looked back at her, "I think your video is becoming something of a viral nature. People seem to want to know a little more about you, including the media." A big smile had crept across her face at this point.
This was certainly unexpected news for Cal. He started to wear a confused look. "Wait, what? What did you tell them?"
"Of course, I didn't give them any of your contact information. As per proper protocol, civilians must go through the Joint Chiefs office to directly contact members of the military. I suspect what they're trying to do is to dig up as much information as they can about you... They'll especially be looking for any dirt to dig up. That way, they can use that information to discredit you as a public figure."
"But I'm not a public figure!" Cal interjected with a frown.
Cathy casually tapped on her tablet with her finger, pointing directly at his image displayed on the screen. She wore a smug smile, as if she didn't need to verbally answer his retort.
Following a heavy sigh, Cal calmly adjusted his posture in his chair. "I see your point." He paused for a moment before asking the next question, "What should I do?" He now seemed eager to hear Cathy's proposal.
"I want you to make a few public appearances at political functions in the next week before you ship out to space again. Mingle with the political pundits and maybe the occasional politician and see what happens."
"Um, what's the point of that? What good can I do?"
"I'll be honest with you; I think you have a good sense of what's wrong and what's right and you're not afraid to correct someone if you think they're wrong about something. Sometimes, your lack of tact can be a good thing. It helps you to get straight to the point. If it's one thing I can't stand about politicians, it's that they're always afraid of saying something that will upset some of their voter base and put their re-election chances in jeopardy. You have the uncanny ability of getting under peoples' skin. Ask questions, debate, get answers... Challenge these people and see what makes them tick. You may be able to uncover a whole lot more about these people if you are successful."
For obvious reasons, Cal now wore a huge grin. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, feeling good about himself after hearing Cathy's compliments. "Well, that sounds pretty nice... but I'm still not sure of what the pointof all of this is."
"Well basically, the media has done such a grand job of establishing a dogmatic view of the colony's political situation for their viewers and followers. They cherry-pick what stories they want to show their audience, and leave out any dissenting opinions. If anyone speaks up and tries to challenge their point of view, they go to great lengths to demonize that person or group, so as to discredit them and render their voices impotent in any kind of debate over the issues."
Suddenly, the stakes just got higher for Cal. "I don't know if I'd appreciate people snooping around into my past. I mean, I wasn't the perfect little boy. The fact that I didn't really have a family while growing up is not something I like to wear as a badge for everyone to see."
"There's nothing wrong with that, Cal. Lots of people in this colony grew up without a family. You could be seen as someone who's overcome adversity to become a successful, contributing member of society. What I see is your spotless military service record. You've turned yourself from a misfit teenager into a valued NUNS pilot. That's got to count for something!" She gestured with her hands, as if she was placing Cal into some kind of imaginary picture frame.
"What about Klan?" he asked, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb in her direction, "I don't want her to get involved in this. Can you promise me that she can be kept immune to their scrutiny?"
Cathy softly laughed at his request, "Cal, you know I can't promise something like that..." She noticed that he was now wearing a stern look on his face. His arms were still folded, but his body language indicated his disapproval of her answer. Seeing this, she sighed and calmly placed her palms down flat on the table in front of her. "Alright, I can handle that."
He quickly replaced his previously cheerful demeanor after hearing her answer. "Great. Lay it on me, then. What do I need to do?"
Now wearing a satisfied and anxious smile, Cathy began to outline her initial plan to him. "Well, the first thing I need you to do is to come to my office in the morning..." She noticed that his eyes had momentarily glazed over, for some reason. "Cal, are you listening? Cal?"
Suddenly, he found himself back in the elevator, having lost himself in his memory for a few moments.
"Cal!" Cathy shouted, gently bumping him with her forearm.
He shook his head and looked back at her. "Sorry, I just got to thinking there for a sec. You were saying?"
She cautiously glared at him for a moment before she continued, "I'm going to set you up with a tablet of your own. This way, I can directly communicate with you if needed. Since nobody will know that it's yours, it enables you to use the internet without fear of being monitored. Go ahead and use it to do any research, planning, and preparation you might need."
The elevator reached its destination and the doors opened, accompanied by an electronic chime. When they passed over the threshold, Cal immediately took note of the towering view from the nearby window. Morning sunlight filled the foyer, giving the area a very lively atmosphere. He trailed behind Cathy by a few feet, feeling somewhat out-of-place in the room.
She bid a "good morning" to the worker at the front desk near a locked door before sliding her ID card through the slot and entering a short PIN number on the keypad. The device beeped with a positive tone and the light turned from red to green. A faint mechanical "click" could be heard from the door jamb at the same time. She opened the door for him and bid for him to enter ahead of her.
"What is this place?" Cal asked as he looked around in wonder. They quickly passed by a section of cubicles, each of which served as a temporary home for various personnel.
"Can't really tell you any specifics," Cathy replied with a slight laugh in her voice. She made sure to walk at a hasty pace, so as to get to their ultimate destination as soon as possible. "We're just on this floor because I wanted to use one of their meeting rooms." She turned her head towards him a bit to acknowledge that he was paying attention and not looking off into the cubicles. "What we need to do is get you briefed on what you can and can't say, when it comes to issues regarding the NUNS. I'm just making sure you don't inadvertently discuss things of a sensitive matter while you're out there doing your thing." She smiled with a hint of jocularity in her expression.
"Aw, no faith?" Cal sarcastically asked.
"Sorry, Cal. I did say that you can really get off the cuff sometimes. I'm just taking extra steps to ensure that you and I both don't get into trouble."
As they rounded the corner of the cubicle maze, they came upon a series of large doors situated in the hall, all facing each other. Before proceeding through one of the doors, Cathy checked her tablet to make sure that she was at the correct meeting room. She opened the door and looked back at him, "In you go!"
…
Will trudged his way down the elevated path, while several full-sized Zentraedi passed him nearby. From his point of view on the miclone walkway, only their shoulders and heads could be seen above the railing, but their heavy footsteps could be felt in their entirety through the hard floor below him. He stared at the ground with his hands in his coat pockets, seemingly lost in thought when he thought he heard his name being called.
"Hi, Will!"
For some reason, he wanted to pretend that he was just hearing things.
"Will!" This time, the voice was almost booming to him.
He stopped his forward pace and looked up to see Klan staring at him from the other side of the bannister. Slightly surprised by her sudden appearance, he managed to utter a response. "Oh. Hi. I thought I was hearing things at first." He looked away from her while he was in the middle of his sentence, choosing not to continue making eye-contact.
She was still in her uniform and was using one of her arms to hold her duffel bag behind one shoulder. Since they were just around the corner from her apartment, she had a pretty good idea what he was doing in the neighborhood. "Did you just leave our place?"
He only nodded in response; a look of slight despair was fairly evident on his face.
Klan traded her smile for a more serious demeanor. "Well, what's the matter? You don't look so good." She quickly put that smile back on her face before he could even answer. "Don't worry, you guys will see each other again real soon, right? You already miss her, is that it?"
Will began to rock his torso back and forth to keep himself warm. "No, it's not that," he sighed. Looking back up at her, he decided to ask something of a cryptic question, "Why is it that women always try to make relationships more complicated than they have to be?"
Taken aback by his question, she didn't really know how to answer. "Um, what?"
"Oh. Uh, nevermind," he quickly withdrew his inquiry. He probably figured that she'd be the last person to go to for relationship advice. After all, it took her all of that time to admit her feelings for Cal, but he wasn't going to point that out to her right now. "Listen, I need to get going," he said as he started to inch his way back in the same direction he had been traveling earlier, "I'll see you later, Klan."
She gave an apprehensive wave as he turned away, but stood there for a moment to watch him leave. She put on a pensive look and grunted to herself before finishing her trip home.
Inside of the apartment, Nene was quietly perched on the couch while she watched television. She looked over at the door as soon as she heard the latch turning. "Hey," she greeted as she saw her sister come in.
"Hey," Klan responded, immediately dropping her bag on the floor. She strolled over to the kitchen to search for some food. "I, uh... I came across Will out there just before I got here," she said, pointing over her shoulder towards some unknown direction outside; presumably in the general direction from whence she had come. "Did you guys get into an argument or something?"
Nene turned back towards the television. She smiled and laughed to herself. "No."
Klan had already finished pouring herself a glass of juice and took a sip while she waited for Nene to elaborate. There was no follow-up. "Nene," she called out.
Her sister turned around, wearing the most peculiar expression on her face, "What?"
"I know that look," Klan said, narrowing her eyes and frowning a bit, "What are you up to?"
"Nothing."
"Bullshit. You only make that face when you've done something dastardly. You used to do it all of the time when we were kids and you'd try to get me into trouble with Mom."
Nene laughed at Klan's response, but she gave her sister a little bit of an answer, "Sometimes, you have to give things a little 'push' in the right direction. When men get into relationships with women, they will quickly get complacent with the current state of things. Sometimes you have to give them a little incentive to keep things moving." She paused for a moment, smiling at the situation. "You, of all people, should know all about that, what with everything you've put Cal through in the last several months. You can consider it a labor of love, right?"
Klan simply stood still in the kitchen with the cup still in her hands. She could only blink in response.
With a casual shrug, Nene turned back around to pay attention to the television set again, "Then again, I could just be rambling about nonsense, as usual..."
Aside from the sounds coming from the television, a momentary silence fell over the room. Klan downed the rest of her drink and firmly set the cup onto the kitchen counter, breaking the relative silence with that sound. "Whatever." She began to walk towards her room, unwilling to argue about it for the time being. "I'm going to sleep. Try to keep it down to a dull roar, okay?" She could only hear a faint grunt in response before slamming the door shut behind her.
…
With the midday sun now high above, a familiar greyish RVF-25 with prominent white stripes on its wings and tail emerged from the thick layer of clouds below. While rapidly climbing altitude, it circled the column of a cumulonimbus cloud formation. It frequently changed direction at random times, darting in and out of the clouds, gaining and losing altitude, and sometimes changing its vector by up to 180 degrees within mere moments.
Suddenly, it took on a more steady flight path, cruising in between two cumulonimbus columns at a relatively calm rate. Inside of the cockpit, Cal seemed to be mesmerized by the cloud formations and the way the sun's bright light was reflecting off of the collections of water vapor contained in them. Above his canopy, the distinctive radome of his RVF-25 was missing. Judging by his erratic flight patterns, perhaps the radome was intentionally removed to reduce drag on the craft while in an atmosphere. Aside from the gentle hum of the RVF's engines, the cockpit was serene and silent. Cal took the time to admire the beauty of the cloud formations for as long as he could.
To his dismay, his radio crackled in his ear, "Okay, Cal. I think I've got enough data on the new EX-gear to work with for now. Go ahead and come on back home."
...And just when he was starting to enjoy the scenery. Below him was only white. The system of clouds stretched on for as far as his eyes could see. He clicked his tongue and violently thrust his throttle forward, pulled back on his flightstick, and lightly tapped his left rudder pedal. The resulting maneuver guided his bird up to the top of the cumulonimbus cloud formation, flipped his bird over into an inverted dive, and sent it straight in at the middle. Cal wore a wicked smile as he looked straight up from his cockpit to see the clouds passing by only a few dozen meters away. Immediately after entering the cloud, the visibility dropped to zero and only the electronic glow of his HUD guided him back to his destination.
"Cal! What are you doing?"
He still chose not to answer. From below the layer of clouds, it was anyone's guess as to his intentions. Only the roar of his engines could be heard coming from somewhere in the thick, white soup suspended in the atmosphere.
With little warning, his RVF burst through the clouds in its battroid form, letting gravity do all of the work of his descent. Wisps of cloud initially streamed behind the craft, until they quickly dissipated into the air again. The engines spun down to an idle speed, just enough to power the avionics and robotic actuators that controlled the battroid's limbs and posture. However, the sound of the wind beating against its hull was nearly deafening from an external perspective.
The battroid's posture resembled that of a skydiver; its arms fanned out to the sides and its body held a downward pitch. With a slight adjustment, the arms tilted, sending the rest of the body into a tight spin. Surely, this kind of maneuver would send an inexperienced pilot into a state of complete vertigo. However, after several moments of sustained rapid rotation, the battroid kicked its legs in such a way that sent it tumbling forward a couple of times. It seemed to effortlessly regain complete attitude control, once again in the previous skydiver's pose.
Far below, the enormous Island-1 mainland carrier of the Frontier emigration fleet remained moored in the ocean, far offshore from the city. Cal's RVF headed straight for the now-artificial island, slowly shrinking out of view as he increased his distance from the layer of clouds above. If he was going to leave his beloved sky, he might as well enjoy the trip back home.
Inside of the hangar lunch room at Bell-Casse, Kaiel quietly sat at one of the tables reading from a digital tablet he held in his hand. He seemed to revel in the peace and repose, calmly sipping on a hot cup of coffee set in his other hand. His posture resembled that of a gentlemanly scholar, sitting sideways away from the table while propping his elbow up on the table and folding one of his legs over the other.
"What are you reading?" came a voice from the doorway.
Kaiel didn't have to look up to recognize who it was. He kept his eyes fixated on the tablet's screen as he answered, "This month's issue of Macross Frontier Ace. They did a fascinating article on General Galaxy's 'Guld Works'. I can't stop reading it."
Cal, wearing a jumpsuit over his flight gear, worked his way over to Kaiel's table. "You've got the new MFA? Let me see..." he said as he sat down next to the Zentraedi pilot, "I forgot to renew my subscription when I got back from deployment. As a matter of fact, I've missed quite a few issues... I think the last one I read was the one that came out just before our final descent operation onto the planet."
Macross Frontier Ace is a popular publication amongst both civilian and military pilots. Even engineers and tech-heads alike enjoy reading the articles, since they frequently showcase airplane, spacecraft, and other related mechanical specimens in great detail. The magazine focuses its scope on the dealings of the colony, but devotes a small portion of its layout to matters regarding the parts of the galaxy controlled by the New U.N.
"I think I've read this article six times now," Kaiel bragged, "When I was growing up, I always wanted to work at the Guld Works, General Galaxy's advanced projects development program. Guld Bowman has been something of an inspiration to me. My goal is to finish school, learn to design my own space fighters, and test-pilot them, just like he did!" He grew silent for a moment and slightly frowned, "It's too bad he died before I was born. I would give anything to be able to travel back in time and meet him."
"Oh, that's right! You're here as part of the work-training program at your school, huh? How many years do you have left?"
"Just two more to go! Then, I can start working on maybe getting my name published in this magazine some day!" Before Cal could respond, he began to flip the magazine's digital pages on his tablet by flicking his finger across the touchscreen. "That reminds me, I was looking for your name in the pilot rankings earlier, but I got distracted. Let's see if the columnists think you're as good as you say you are!"
The magazine boasts ranked lists of the fleet's best pilots, based on various criteria established by the writers and civilian experts. Each issue also contains a feature story on pilots of interest, which often makes those pilots into semi-celebrities in the eyes of the MFA subscribers.
Cal almost laughed, but then he felt a momentary sensation of uneasiness. His confidence in his piloting abilities couldn't take a hit if he didn't see himself on the "best pilot" rankings. He watched the tablet's screen from the side as Kaiel turned the pages to the correct number, according to the table of contents.
"Ah, here we go..."
They both began to scroll through the list, but Cal couldn't quite make out the words from his sideways perspective. He chose to wait out the anticipation from his seat instead.
"Hmm... I don't see you on this 'Top 100' list," Kaiel declared. He flipped to another page and started reading again. "Let's see if you're in one of the other lists." It didn't take him long to respond while placing his finger at a particular spot on the tablet's screen, "There you are! You're in the 'Up and Comers' list, right here." He turned the tablet slightly to the side so Cal could read, while keeping his finger firmly plotted on the screen.
Cal lightly brushed Kaiel's hand away from the screen and turned it towards himself so he could read. He seemed to smile with at least some satisfaction. Seeing his name in print in this kind of magazine was quite an accomplishment, despite the fact that he probably wasn't yet regarded as "seasoned" enough to make the "Top 100" list. At least he could consider it something of a goal, for now.
"Well, well, well...!" Kaiel exclaimed, letting his huge paw of a hand fall onto Cal's back, "I guess all of those stories you've told me are true! You're gonna have to show me some of those skills sometime."
Cal let out a brief cough from being hit on the back so hard. "Oh, I don't know. We're kind of working on different projects, aren't we? I don't think there's anything I can show you that you don't already know, I'm sure." He seemed rather sheepish, for some strange reason.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Cal?" came another voice from the doorway. They both turned to see David approaching them with an insulated bag in his hand. Most likely, it was carrying his lunch. "All these years I've known you, you've never been one to back down from a challenge like that." He sat down and placed his bag on the table before turning his head to Cal. "You've been acting strange all day. What's going on?"
Cal noticed Kaiel nodding in agreement. He had secretly hoped that the recent "changes" in his personal life would not affect his behavior, but it was glaringly obvious to at least two of his co-workers. This whole "being in love" situation was unavoidably a package deal. It would probably be best to just go ahead and play the part. "Boys," Cal said with a wry grin while putting his arms around their shoulders, "when you both finally mature and grow a pair, you might get to experience this thing called 'love', if you're lucky enough."
They both frowned ever-so-slightly at his coarse comment, but quickly put smiles back on their faces. Not only did they know he was just kidding with them, but the subject material at hand easily caught their attention.
"Wait a minute," David replied, "What do you mean? Did you meet someone?"
"You could say that..." Cal wore a look of nonchalance, as if it was nothing new to him.
Rather than take a shot at Cal, David did the right thing. "Really? That's great news, Cal! I'm glad to hear it!" Of course, in the back of his mind was the thought of Cal's fiancee, Marie, and how it's probably been tough on the guy to deal with her passing. "Tell us. What's she like?"
Although he was proud to tell them that he had found someone, he was a little apprehensive to talk about Klan to these guys. It was still a very new feeling to him. "Well, uh... she's a pilot."
They waited for him to continue, but interjected after a couple of moments of silence, "That's it?"
Cal softly laughed and continued, "Um, she's a Meltran."
Kaiel found this to be quite fascinating, since he's Zentraedi. "Wow! I had no idea you were into that sort of thing!" he said as he playfully nudged with his elbow, "Is she pretty?"
"Impossibly," came the reply. Prompt and succinct, Cal had no problems admitting that to these guys. He seemed to sigh to himself and become lost in his thoughts.
Such a reaction elicited an even stronger sense of curiosity from the other pilot. "I must see this for myself. Pictures. Now," came the demand.
Cal didn't hesitate to pull his phone out and scroll through the photographs he had saved on it. Unfortunately, he hadn't taken the time to transfer the memory from his old phone to his new one. He grunted as he realized this fact and saw that the picture folder on his phone was completely empty. Just as he was about to tell them the bad news, he noticed that a message was waiting to be read. "Hang on," he said as he went to retrieve the message.
The sender was Nene and it had an attachment. "Hey, Cal! I went through all of my pictures from yesterday and felt compelled to send this one to you. Hope it helps you get through the day with a smile!"
Already, Nene's message brought a smile to Cal's face. She's has always had a way of making the people around her feel better and Cal was no exception. He opened the attachment to find that she had sent a copy of the photo with him holding Klan in his arms as they approached the pavilion of the paintball park the day before. He began to revel in the memory, briefly reliving that seemingly-triumphant moment once more.
"That her?" Kaiel asked. He had leaned all the way over to get a look at the phone, slightly irritating Cal.
"Uhh... yeah."
"Wait a minute. Isn't she that same girl that came here to see you the other day?"
"Yes."
"Cal!" Kaiel exclaimed with a huge smile on his face, "I had no idea you were into little girls. Isn't she too young for you?"
He rolled his eyes, having anticipated this question since the subject came up in the first place. "She's twenty years old, guys. It's not what it looks like."
"Yeah," David chimed in, "It just looks like you're into the cute, petite, short, girls that look like they're still in grade-school, that's what it looks like. Just admit it: you've got a bit of a lolita-complex!" He and Kaiel laughed at Cal, who was no longer smiling.
"Oh, screw you guys! That's just how she looks when she's micloned. She has a little genetic disorder, that's all. I wish I had a picture of her in her Meltran form so I could see the looks of insane jealousy form on your faces."
"But you don't; so, we're going to give you a hard time about it until you prove otherwise."
"Alright..." Cal said, now stepping up to the challenge. He stood up from his seat to leave the room so he wouldn't have to deal with their chiding anymore, "I'll bring her here with me one of these days, so you can see her with your own two eyes. Bring an extra pair of pants, because you're gonna need to change into them after you see her."
As David and Kaiel began to laugh at Cal's threats, another worker poked their head from the hangar area and into the lunchroom, "Kaiel! Hop in the tank, we need you out here!"
Kaiel sat still in his chair in anticipation for the reasoning. He kind of knew what it was about, but he wanted to hear a verbal confirmation.
"It's here!" the technician squealed with a satisfied grin on his face.
Kaiel let out a gleeful yelp like an excited puppy, and trotted out of the room.
Confused, Cal turned to David, who was placing his lunch sack into the fridge for cold storage.
"Come on. I'll show you," he said as he rushed past Cal towards the doorway.
Outside of the hangar, several technicians gathered around a large flatbed delivery truck. On it
rested a single heavy-duty crate, some 60 feet in length, and about 15 feet in height. One of the company's Work Destroids stood by next to the truck, ready to unload the cargo.
David stood next to Cal as they looked over the box with their eyes, "Kaiel gets to test out a new type of gunpod with his specially-modified Queadluun."
"Really? Wait, 'specially-modified'?" Cal asked.
"Yeah, we replaced the old three-digit manipulators with five-digits and re-fitted its controls to accommodate them. Seems that there's a new model Queadluun coming out with various changes and this is one of them. The NUNS wants Queadluuns to be able to use gunpods more effectively and are interested in arming them with one of these new-type guns."
Once again, Cal had to stop himself from talking about things that he was not allowed to discuss. He would have loved to tell them that he's already seen the 'new model' in action. He fought to bite his tongue, however, and succeeded. "Oh, cool!" he said, feigning ignorance on the matter. "What's so new about it?"
"Oh, you're going to have to find that out on your own. In a few days, we're going to send you up against him to see just how effective it is."
From behind, they could hear the pounding of heavy footsteps. Kaiel quickly emerged from the hangar in his Zentran form, fitting some work gloves onto his hands. A couple of miclone technicians were running alongside him to keep up with his gigantic strides. "Okay, I'm ready..." He walked to one side of the huge crate and waited for the miclone-operated Work Destroid to move into position on the other side. Together, they hoisted the crate off of the flatbed and began to walk it through the opened hangar doors. All of the miclone workers moved out of the way and slowly trailed behind, following the cargo inside.
Just as he finished helping to place the crate into its predesignated spot, Kaiel turned his head to find Cal in the small crowd gathered nearby. "So, Cal... I was just telling these guys about your new girlfriend." He had a very mischievous smile on his face, "Why don't you show them all that picture? I'm sure everyone wants to know all about her."
Cal could sense at least a dozen pairs of eyes now fixating their gaze upon him. He narrowed his eyes at Kaiel, expressing his disapproval of the situation. "Enjoy it while you can, jerk," he fumed as he took his phone out again, "You're going to be eating a lot of humble pie very soon." Several of the nearby technicians began to gather around him to see what Kaiel was referring to. Judging from Kaiel's and David's reaction, the rest of the day was going to be quite difficult for him.
…
Exasperated after a hard day's work, Cal entered Ozma's house through the door from the garage. Even though it was getting dark outside and the weather was windy and cold, the interior of the house was well-lit and warm. The hot air felt good against his face, since he had just been riding a scooter, exposed to the cold climate.
Ozma had comfortably planted himself on his couch and was watching television. The nearby fireplace was alive with bright flames, giving the entire scene an irresistible allure. Upon hearing Cal enter, he turned his head to greet him. "Hey. How'd it go?"
"Good and bad, I guess," Cal casually answered as he strolled into the living room to sit down. He dropped his duffel bag next to one of the chairs, took off his coat, and leaned forward to remove his shoes, "You?"
"Got a lot done today. Can't tell you what, though," Ozma replied with a laugh.
"Same here."
"Well, that's okay," Ozma replied, "Cathy filled me in on this little thing she has you doing for her."
"Oh? Alright, then." Suddenly, Cal felt a little less important, since Ozma seemed to be privy to that which he had previously thought was a classified matter. He reclined back into the chair, exhaling in relief.
"Looks like she has something of a plan for you." Ozma looked back at the television set and flipped the channel, "Let's hope it works out." Cal only grunted in response; he seemed to be too tired to talk about that right now. However, Ozma decided to change the subject a bit, "How's Klan? Did you get to see her?"
"No, she's been busy. We traded a couple of texts, but not much more interaction than that." Cal sighed. He suddenly felt a bit empty upon being reminded of her.
"You're both going to be very busy, I'm sure. Don't worry, you guys will find time for each other. Cathy and I have to deal with it a lot, but we get by. I mean, heck... we're getting married soon." He turned back to Cal and smiled, "If we can deal with it, so can you guys."
Cal smiled back after hearing Ozma's encouraging words. One day without seeing Klan down, many more were sure to come.
Ozma turned up the volume on television set, which was playing a news program. The weather forecast was being broadcast at that moment. "Looks like we're due for a little snow!" he said, in reference to the report.
The meteorologist on the screen seemed excited to give the news, "I'm happy to say that we should expect to wake up in the morning to find a little bit of snow in our yards! We probably won't see much more than an inch, but I'm glad to be able to report our first snowfall on this new planet!"
"I don't know..." Cal stated in reference to the weather report, "I was up there doing some testing today and I couldn't see the end of this incoming weather system. There were lots of cumulonimbus clouds."
Ozma glared at him in disbelief. "How would you know anything about weather? We've all spent our entire lives living in an artificial ecosystem, where the weather was controlled. Let's just say that planetary meteorology was not the most popular of subjects in our schools while we were still out there traveling through space."
"Good point. I wonder if these weather reports are even going to be very accurate, considering we know next to nothing about this planet's weather patterns."
Cal began to consider the moment. Outside, it was cold and windy and there would soon be some trace snowfall on the ground. However, inside of the house, he had comfortable surroundings. The heat from the nearby fireplace somehow felt about 100 times more enjoyable than before he had heard the news of the impending snowfall. The only thing missing was a warm body with whom to spend the cold night.
