There was tension in the background as we did our daily routine. Even as we did maintenance on the VHT-1 Spartas hovertanks and did inventory on our supplies and equipment, the last space offensive was still in memory. I had heard from Lieutenant Jack Emerson that Sergeant Bakovic plead guilty; he would serve thirty days in the stockade and then be transferred to another unit after his sentence is finished. We did not know when the final assault will take place, or if the enemy will counterattack.
There was still time for other things besides the military. I had made a date with Melissa Sharp to take a tour bus to a Berber town in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. The base offered discounted tickets to your buses and other events in the area. The bus ride to the town took a few hours along a four-lane highway, with trees to either side. The town itself had souvenir shops and cafes and other businesses. Street vendors peddled their wares to tourists who were dressed in various types of outfits.
As I sat in a sidewalk café with Melissa, sipping on a Coke, the war above and on the ground seemed distant. Indeed, for a while we could pretend that there was no war.
But not for long.
After returning to base, I saw that the men's BOQ was open. The building looked much the same as it did before it blew up; the one big difference was that the pain was brand new and the windows were spotless.
"We get to sleep on real beds again," said Lieutenant Michael Meyers.
"And to think I was gonna invite you to sleep over at the women's BOQ," Melissa said to me.
We approached the entrance to the BOQ.
"Only male officers allowed here unless you have official business, madam," said this freckle-faced private.
"I will see you tomorrow," Melissa said to me.
I went inside, and there was a miniature party going on in the lounge, with men dressed either in casual clothes or MARPAT camouflage talking to one another. On a table were a bag of Lay's potato chips, two one-liter bottles of Coca-cola, and some plastic cups. Music was playing from a stereo system, and a Sony color television was on, its sound muted.
"Better not let this party get too wild," said one of the men, holding a plastic cup, "or I'd have to throw you in the stockade." I recognized him as an officer with the base's military police.
"Don't worry," said Jack. "We won't get too wild. Maybe as wild as Mardi Gras, but not too wild."
Mike led me to my room. It looked the same as my old room here, with a bed and a dresser and a lamp. I could look out the window to the pavilion in the center of the BOQ. At least I can have my own room, instead of sleeping in a Quonset hut with fifty other guys. I put my duffel bag on the carpeted floor and I lay on the bed.
"Don't get too comfortable," said Mike. "There's still a party going on."
And so I went down to the party. We were all talking about what men do and say.
"Here's to sleeping in a real room again," said Lieutenant Isamu Shirogane, holding up a plastic cup.
"Cheers," we said.
The party continued for the rest of the day, with us either sitting in the lounge, or playing pool or foosball in the den, or even doing barbecues at the central pavilion. At the end, it was time to sleep.
I had my share of partying back when I lived in Jamaica, but this is the first time I remember having a party just to celebrate having a roof over our heads. I slept on my bed, the mattress springs supporting me.
The next morning, Jack woke me up.
"We have orders to mobilize," he said. "Get dressed."
And so we went to the parade grade and all assembled in formation, with Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera, Major Yoon, and Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon facing us.
"All right, Micronians," said Kravshera. "I know it is still early, and most of you haven't had breakfast. Just this morning, I have received orders that our battalion is to be deployed overseas in North America, near Monument City. An enemy ship crashed nearby and we are to be part of the perimeter team. The Air Force's 8th Transport Wing is preparing to transport us and other units there. Everyone prepare for immediate deployment. We will depart as soon as everyone is ready"
And so we did. We all made sure that our hovertanks, equipment, ammunition, and supplies were packed, with Master Sergeant Cabon supervising the enlistees. We also made sure that our duffel bags were packed with uniforms and other essentials. The hovertanks were loaded onto trailers, and our supplies, ammunition, and equipment were loaded onto other trucks.
"I wonder what the delay is," I said, sitting in the back of a truck. "We're mostly done."
"All of the sergeants have to double check the work," said Mike. "And we have to wait on Military Airlift Command to get us across the ocean."
And so we did. I heard the truck's engine start, and felt its motion along the street.
"They were fast," said Jack.
"Thank Master Sergeant Cabon and the other sergeants for pushing the enlistees," said Mike.
The ride took about an hour; I knew that the trucks would go through the road tunnel linking Spain and Morocco. We finally got off at this air base in Spain. The trucks were parked on the concrete taxiways. There were some hangars where aircraft was stored, as well as a control tower. Also parked on the taxiway were a U.N. Air Force C-130 Hercules and an Air Force Liewneuatzs cargo shuttle, which was much bigger than the Hercules and was used to transport mecha. Above us, there were only a few clouds in the sky. I noted there were over hundreds of airmen running around doing errands.
We immediately boarded the Hercules; I strapped myself in. I glanced at Colonel Kravshera and Major Yoon.
"We'll have breakfast bars on the plane," said Yoon.
The rear entrance to the plane was closed and secured.
"Okay people," I heard the Air Force pilot say over the intercom. "Make sure you are all strapped in. We are preparing for imminent departure."
About an hour later, we departed; I felt the plane rumble along the runway and then felt the rumbling stop as the plane lifted into the air.
I unwrapped the breakfast bar, which was basically a granola bar.
"We'll get more food once we get to the camp site," said Jack.
Oooooooo
A few hours later, the Air Force pilot told us to strap ourselves in again, as we were about to land. I felt the plane touch down about half an hour after he made his announcement. The Lockheed C-130 Hercules taxied for a bit before stopping.
"Welcome to Monument City," said the pilot.
The rear hatch was opened, and we all stepped out with our duffel bags in tow. The weather was sure different; I could feel it was much cooler than it was in Morocco or Spain. The sky above was concealed in a layer of gray clouds. Around me, I saw what I would expect at a U.N. air base- hangars, a control tower, and other buildings. There was a lot of aircraft parked on the taxiways, including the Liewneuatzs cargo shuttle that transported our VHT-1 Spartas hovertanks. Another plane landed on the runway.
"All right, people," said the colonel. "Let's get ourselves ready for transport to the camp site."
It took less than an hour for the hovertanks, supplies, and equipment to be loaded onto the trailers. After everytjhing was loaded, we boarded the trucks and rode to the camp site.
A few minutes later, we all got out.
The centerpiece of the campsite was this huge spaceship sitting on the ground. It was big, much bigger than a sports stadium. It looked as if it could fit the entire population of Jamaica. Already, various types of mecha form a perimeter around the ship. Tents and Quonset huts were set up for the troops, who were drawn from the Army, Air Force, Spacy, and Space Marines. Many of the troops had already taken posts, and others were just arriving in trucks.
As soon we got off, we- or rather junior enlistees under the supervision of Master Sergeant Cabon- started unloading the hovertanks, equipment, and supplies in our battalion. After that, we had to take inventory of everything, in which I had to help. It was tedious, but less so than standing around.
"So when do we get to eat?" asks a private in our battalion.
An Army sergeant informed us where we would sleep. Once again, we would sleep in a Quonset hut.
"At least you will get a chance to sleep in a hut," I said to this lady officer in our battalion; I knew her as Lieutenant Tran.
I placed my duffel bag next to the cot inside the Quonset hut that was reserved for junior male officers in our unit; it looked just like any Quonset hut.
"Don't get too comfortable," said Major Yoon. "We're not here on vacation."
And so we were busy that first hour or so, organizing watches and creating duty schedules.
"It's chow time, people," said Jack.
And so we ate inside another Quonset hut that served as the officers' field mess. Hundreds of officers in MARPAT camouflage were inside, sitting on benches or getting food from the cooks. Pasta with marinara sauce was served. It was cheap and filling, the kind of meal one would eat out on the field- if one were lucky.
"A lot of people will be asking for liberty passes," said Mike.
"Yeah," I said. "Monument City has a lot more to offer than the middle of that desert." I can still remember that mission- the heat, the dryness, and the revelation about the enemy.
"We'll get the afternoon off," said Jack. "Major Yoon told us our squadron has the graveyard shift."
"Jack, it's you," I hard a female voice say.
I looked and saw this young lady with short blond hair. The two silver bars on her collar indicated that she was a first lieutenant like Jack.
"Dana," said Jack, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I knew you would come."
"I'm assigned near Monument City," said Dana. "And then there was this huge spaceship that crashed near there- which my squadron and I shot down."
I looked at her. "You shot down this ship?"
"Yes," she said. "I assume you know Jack."
I introduced myself. "I am third in line of command for his squadron," I said.
"First Lieutenant Dana Sterling of the 15th ATAC squadron. I knew Jack since before joining the Army."
"You did?"
"Yeah, after my parents were deployed on the Pioneer mission, I was sent to live with General Emerson- that's Jack's dad."
"That's right," said Jack. "And we have stories to tell."
"What kind of stories?" asked Mike. "Lieutenant Michael Meyers, Jack's second in command. You can call me Mike, anytime."
"I will remember that, Lieutenant Meyers," replied Dana.
"Nina," said Jack. I looked and saw Lieutenant Nina Washington, carrying a plastic cup and dressed in MARPAT camouflage.
Nina put the cup down on the table and placed her arms around Jack's waist. "How are you doing, ground pounder?"
"Who is your lady friend, Jack?" asked Dana.
"Are you jealous?" asked Nina.
"Oh, it's nothing like that," said Jack. "Dana is almost like a sister to me. It would be incestuous for me to …you know."
"I am Lieutenant Nina Washington, Thunderbolt pilot and a flight leader," said Nina.
Dana introduced herself. "My parents were pilots. They're veterans of the first Robotech War."
"I wonder why you never followed in their footsteps," said Nina.
"Flying never interested me."
"My daddy was a pilot in the First Robotech War and the Global Civil War before that," said Nina. "He's now the Air Force's Chief of Staff. So your parents were military. It must have been interesting, girl, having to move from base to base."
As Nina spoke with Dana Sterling, Shelby Porter sat down next to me.
"Mind if I sit next to you?" she asked.
I looked at her; she had put a tray with a plate, a cup, and food and drink on the table. "Uh, no," I replied. "Go right ahead."
"How have you been doing?" she asked.
"They rebuilt the men's BOQ. I got to sleep there for one night before we were deployed here. And you."
"At least I got to fly my Thunderbolt all the way here. We did have to wait until our equipment and supplies were brought in. So you are from Jamaica, right?"
"Right."
"Tell me all about Jamaica. It must be a wonderful place."
I told her about Jamaica. My family was relatively well off due to being in the tourist industry. "But there are many people who eke a living scratching dirt or catching fish," I said. "If you want a high paying waiter job, you have to be well-connected like my dad and brother."
"That's terrible."
I began thinking of home. I remembered that the island imported a lot of food from overseas due to the wealth that came in from tourism. "Maybe if we had factories like Japan." I continued eating my meal.
"After we return from here, maybe we can go out," said Shelby. "There's a great restaurant a mile from the air base I'm stationed at."
"I don't know," I said. I was thinking of Melissa Sharp back on the base. She was a great lady, but to just give my full heart to her at this stage? Should I not at least date other women in case things do not work out?
That evening, I spoke with Mike just outside our temporary quarters.
"Have you told Melissa how you feel about her?" he asked.
"I like her," I said. "And it would be great if she and I could be in a relationship. But to love her now? I don't want to love someone completely only to find out we can only be friends."
Oooooooo
So much was on my mind during breakfast- wondering if I should go all in with Melissa, the residual stress from combat.
"Finish your breakfast," Colonel Kravshera said to me. "We have been summoned to Southern Cross Headquarters in Monument City."
"We're all going, sir?" I asked.
"Just you, me, Cabon, Emerson, and Avital. Put on your Class "A's"".
And so I did. It was always important to bring all uniforms with me to a camp site. A green Toyota Avalon staff car awaited us. I got in along with Jack, Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital, and Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon. An Army corporal was behind the wheel.
The car moved along a highway flanked by pine trees. The scenery seemed so peaceful, especially after the alien ship disappeared from view.
"Great place," said Jack. "Dad used to take us- me, Dana, and this other kid named Bowie- out camping.
The car spoon reached a checkpoint, which had several booths. A roof bearing the name "Monument City" was located on top. Monument City was considered to be United Nations soil, so there were checkpoints for people entering from Canada. We were quickly waved in, as we were in a military vehicle.
We were on this elevated highway. I could see all sorts of buildings. After a few minutes, we took an exit to the Citadel.
The Citadel was a complex of buildings in Monument City, all owned by the United Earth Forces. The headquarters for the United Earth Forces was inside the tallest building in the complex. The Citadel also contained headquarters for other units like the Military District of Monument City, the Space Marine Barracks, the Headquarters of the Robotech Defense Forces Command, the Headquarters of the First Spacy Fleet, and the Headquarters of the Southern Cross Army, the field army that supports the Robotech Defense Forces Command.
The car entered through the main gate, with a Space Marine MP waving us in. I could see people in different types of uniforms walking along the sidewalk. We passed an Army transport truck going in the opposite direction.
"Here we are, sirs," said the corporal.
Southern Cross Army Headquarters was located in this huge concrete building. A concrete path led from the street to the front entrance. We went through the glass doors of the front entrance. On the other side of the front entrance, the main lobby had some chairs, a wooden table, and a reception desk staffed by sergeants and corporals.
"Follow me," said the colonel.
So we did. We walked along the corridors, with several enlistees briefly stopping, and the colonel waving them ahead. We then entered this room. There were no tables or chairs inside. Curtains adorned a window with a view of the UEF Headquarters.
Then some people in Class "A" uniforms entered the room. We all stood at attention. I recognized one of them- a big bald man who towered over us; he was United Earth Forces Supreme Commander Anatole Leonard. A slimmer, shorter dark-haired man and this black man accompanied him. The black man was a command sergeant major, and the other man was Lieutenant General Rolf Emerson.
"General Emerson, if you will," said Leonard.
"Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital," said the general, "due to your conspicuous bravery, it is my honor to award you with the Titanium Medal of Valor."
Sergeant Avital walked up and received a medal from General Emerson. "I am honored, sir," she said.
Leonard looked at a piece a paper. "I understand the bravery in action was getting out of your battloid to save the life of an officer," he said.
"It was him, sir," she said, pointing at me.
Supreme Commander Leonard looked at me. "Try not to get wounded," he said.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
"I have other business to attend to now. As you were."
"How would you all like to have dinner before going back to camp?" asked General Emerson.
Oooooooo
Dinner was what the Army called lunch. We all sat at this pizza place located in the Citadel's food court. We all ordered pizza and breadsticks. I myself had a Hawaiian style pizza, which had pineapple chunks and ham. I also ordered Coke to wash it down. I would not get to eat like this at the officers' field mess, and I did not know how long I would be deployed at the camp site. Such deployments can last months, from what I had heard.
"I should thank you for this good food, sir," said Master Sergeant Cabon.
"It is a nice treat for a warrior," said Colonel Kravshera. He looked to me. "Perhaps you should put yourself in danger so we can get this treatment."
"I will consider it," I said.
"At least we got that enemy mothership down," said Jack. "That is definitely something."
"Maybe," said the general. "It is definitely a blow for the enemy."
"Well, Dad, we really should recall the fleet and have them smash the enemy."
"I am not too sure about that," said General Emerson. "There are other threats besides the enemy in orbit. The galaxy has become a more dangerous place since the end of the last Robotech War."
"Indeed," said Kravshera. "The Zentraedi kept the peace. But with their numbers severely reduced, others are trying to fill in the power vacuum."
"Still, those enemy ships can be taken down," said Jack. "Dana and her team did it."
"They managed to exploit a weakness," said the general. "And I doubt we can rely on that same weakness over and over again. We won't be able to defeat them using frontal assaults. And that is what worries me."
"How so?" asked Sergeant Avital.
"Supreme Commander Leonard spent the formative years of his military career poking out the Zentraedi insurgency in South America about fifteen years ago, back when Southern Cross was only a division. I served with him in that theater. Basically, scouts would find where the enemy is, and then Leonard and his regiment would go in full force to crush them. We were effective. But this time it is different. We can not crush the enemy the way we crushed the renegade Zentraedi."
"So how do we defeat them?" I asked.
"We'll have to outmaneuver them," said the general. "Try to trap them. I've done that with the renegade Zentraedi a couple of times back then."
And so we finished our meal.
"I have business to attend to," said General Emerson. "Back to your posts."
"Yes, sir," we all replied.
We rode in the Toyota Avalon back to the base camp.
"Talking about the renegade Zentraedi reminded me of my early years in the Army," said Cabon. "I was a corporal then, and I drove those old veritech battle tanks. I could still remember having to stay in camp for months. It was mostly boring, but there were a few exciting times. Too bad not everyone I knew survived the excitement."
We soon returned to the camp site. I noticed that there was even more bustling activity than usual.
A corporal ran to the car. "Sir, there is something going on," he said to Colonel Kravshera. "Everyone is to take battle stations."
"All right, Micronians!" yelled Kravshera. "Suit up and prepare for battle!"
And so we did.