CHAPTER 4
Rick stood quietly beside the examining table, as he had done many times before. Whenever Michael Joons was wounded in action,Rick always felt obligated to stay with him. They had been through some terrible times together. And lately, Joons wasn't taking very good care of himself.
He lay quietly on the table, but very alert. His armor was removed from his chest and arms. Bandages were taped to various places on his body. But his breathing seemed normal, and his eyes were clear as they watched Doctor Emil Lang enter the room.
The doctor's tall, imposing appearance, his dark eyes, and his heavy accent were off-putting to most. Rick could tell that Joons didn't care much for Doctor Lang.
"All right, Lieutenant Joons," Lang said sternly. "I have the results of your scans."
Joons pulled himself up. He struggled a little, but was able to sit on his own. "How do I look?" he asked.
Doctor Lang shook his head. "No damage to internal organs, no broken bones, no internal bleeding." He set a stack of papers down beside Joons. "Even your bruises are healing."
"I...guess it wasn't as bad as I thought."
"I want to show you this as well," said the doctor. He handed Joons another piece of paper. "I studied the armor you were wearing, and the bullets we removed from your body. You were hit with armor-piercing rounds."
Joons looked closely at the page. He took a deep breath. Rick looked over his shoulder and winced.
"Two rounds entered the chest armor, starting here and passing through your mid-section. Both of the rounds exited through your back, right here."
Doctor Lang tapped the paper with a pen. "You should have suffered broken ribs, collapsed lungs and a shattered spine. To risk sounding macabre, I'm amazed that you even survived."
Joons blinked his eyes. "I guess...Zentraedi can take a lot of punishment."
"Not that kind of punishment," said Lang. "Zentraedi are men, just like humans."
Rick leaned against Joons' table. "So...what does it mean?" he asked. "It was a miracle?"
"Not quite, Commander. But to a scientist, it might as well be."
Lang rubbed his dark eyes, and glanced at the clock as he spoke. "For months now, I've been studying a large group of Zentraedi men and women. It seems that the cloning process was customizable, which means that some Zentraedi soldiers might not be equally endowed with their fighting abilities. They could have been pre-assigned a set of abilities pertaining to their military tasks."
Joons rubbed at the bandages on his chest. "I...don't think I follow, Doctor."
"All right, take Miriya Sterling for example. She's been a pilot since her days in the Zentraedi fleet. Her piloting skills are so well tuned, I'm willing to bet she was bred to be a pilot."
"I see," said Rick. "But we don't know what Joons was...or...was supposed to be."
"Right," said Lang, with a nod. "Miriya Sterling doesn't have this amazing survival ability that Joons' body exhibits. You may have been designed as a foot soldier. A front-line combatant."
"Long story short," said Joons dryly. "Will I be okay?"
Doctor Lang grinned proudly. "You'll be just fine, young man. I doubt a freight train could slow you down. But keep in touch with this department. If you feel unwell for any reason, contact the physicians."
They said their goodbyes to Lang and watched him leave. Joons sighed heavily as the door shut.
"I hate when he talks about me like that. It freaks me out."
"Don't let him bother you," said Rick. "He gets a little carried away sometimes."
"He's picking at me like I'm some kind of experiment. Every time I come here to get patched up, he starts running his mouth about my cloning like I'm not even in the room."
Rick found it hard to respond. "Yeah...I know," he said.
"It's like he discovered some rare new specimen and he can't wait to show his friends." Joons laughed shakily. "I feel like I'm one step away from the pickle jar."
Rick tried to laugh with him. "Come on, man."
Joons pulled one of the gauze straps off of his chest. A dark bruise lay underneath. "Look at this," he said. "They're putting band-aids on bullet wounds. They can't figure me out..."
He rubbed his face with his hands and took a deep breath. "They don't even know what I am. It scares me to death sometimes."
Rick patted his hand on Joons' shoulder and smiled. "What's more to know?" he asked. "You're Skull Two."
Joons shut his eyes and nodded solemnly.
Rick hopped off the table and looked at the clock. "I think I missed Lisa's ceremony," he laughed. "She's gonna kill me."
"I'm sorry," said Joons quietly.
The silence was uncomfortable. Rick thought he might change the subject to something more pleasant.
"Oh, hey! Weren't you supposed to go out with Minmei tonight?"
Joons shook his head. "She canceled. Photo shoot or something. Maybe next week, she says." He looked behind the table at his shattered chest armor. "Did those girls make it out all right?"
Rick had to think about the question. "Oh! The girls. Yeah, they got taken away in a TC-1." He paused for a short moment. "All except for one. She ran off... they went looking but they couldn't find her."
"Mmm." Joons tightened his eyes. "I hope she's all right."
"You probably saved her life," said Rick.
He nodded in return. "I guess...whatever's left of it."
Lisa tried to catch her breath. She looked down at her formal dress whites; they were still missing the RDF Admiral's medal.
A small group of powerful figures sat before her at a council table. Mayor Saul waited impatiently with his arms folded. Admiral Reave looked as imposing as ever. And between them, dressed in an officer's uniform ornamented with Zentraedi battle armor, was the seven-foot-tall Admiral Breetai.
Behind Lisa, a host RDF officers watched from the rows of seats. It was a packed house for this ceremony.
Breetai was a solemn and powerful presence, but to Lisa he was a friend. He watched the conference room door, which remained closed. He waswaiting for Commander Hunter.
Lisa noticed a curt glance from Mayor Saul. "We...can begin," she whispered shyly. Her voice carried around the spacious room.
"Yes, why don't we?" said the mayor quickly. "We're all very busy people..."
Reave turned a cold stare upon him. "Surely we can afford Miss Hayes the time for a formal ceremony. Don't forget that she saved your entire city."
Breetai looked down at Lisa. His eyes seemed to show concern. "Are you...expecting anyone else, Commander?"
"No..." Lisa tried to keep her voice from shaking. "No...I think we can go on with the ceremony.
He nodded solemnly, stood up, and filled the hall with his deep and powerful voice.
"Then let it be known that we are honored to be present on such a celebrated occasion. On this day, Commander Lisa Hayes has been unanimously recommended by the United Global Defense... to the position of Admiral."
Breetai's every word shook the walls. He spoke as though the entire world was gathered together to watch Lisa. But all she really needed was Rick Hunter.
Her apartment was lit with a host of candles when she arrived, candles that she had lit herself. They were half-burned now, dripping long strands of wax into the plates around them. Their warm, flickering light danced gently on her walls and ceiling.
Lisa shut her door and slid the deadbolt locked. She set her purse on the coffee table beside her sofa. And once she slid off her muddy shoes, she began blowing out each of the candles. On the mantle above her television, and the small bookcase, and the kitchen counter. She went across the apartment in silence and snuffed out each of the flames, until a dark haze began to linger about. And the only candles left were at the dinner table.
They were long and thin, with tiny flames that struggled to fight off the darkness. Lisa had set a table for two with her best china and glasses of fine crystal. An ice bucket held a bottle of wine. Lisa left the two candles burning, as she began to clear off the table.
She carefully stacked the plates in her kitchen cabinets. Silverware went in the drawers, and the crystal was wrapped up in newspaper before it returned to a dusty box.
A dim glow came from beyond her open bedroom door. She wondered why she had lit candles in her room; remembered how giddy she felt when she lit them on a whim. And how she had laughed and blushed when she found out that the candles were scented.
She frowned and shook her head. Carrying the bottle with her, she rushed to put them out.
But as she rounded the corner to her bedroom, a tiny squeak made her heart stop. She nearly stepped on a mouse in the hallway. It scurried around her legs in the dark, bumping into the walls in search of a way out.
Lisa screamed and jumped. She lost her balance; threw her hands in the air. The floor met her back as she fell hard. And the bottle of wine crashed against the headboard of her bed, spilling its contents and pieces of glass.
She scrambled to her feet and pressed against the wall. The mouse had escaped. She regained her composure, took a deep breath, and stepped defiantly into the bedroom.
Glass was littered across the hardwood floor, and her bed sheets were soaked with a blood-red stain. Her dresser, and even the lamp at her bedside, would be impossible to reach. And the scented candles were still lit.
Lisa took off her uniform and folded it as well as she could in the dark. She left the rest of her clothes in a pile on the floor, and went back into the kitchen. A cold draft blew across her body, from that window in the corner that she could never get to shut. She tensed her muscles and refused to shiver.
Leaning over the dinner table, she blew out the pair of candles. Her breath faltered as she did. The apartment slid into the midnight darkness.
She curled up on the couch, tucking her bare legs into the cushions. The scent of the last two candles began to find her. She closed her eyes, drew her hands into fists, and sobbed until she fell asleep.
Joons looked up at the apartment complex where Lisa lived. Rick was at his side; he shot Joons a worried glance.
"Nice place," Joons nodded.
"Not nice enough for an Admiral," said Rick, with a long, discouraged look at the place. "I think I'll stay for a while. You need a ride home?"
Joons shook his head. "I'll walk. I need some time to think. Thank you, sir."
They parted ways, and Rick quietly stepped into the apartment complex.
He stopped at her door; the first door on the left. Maybe I shouldn't...I mean...what would I say? What am I going to tell her? And I've gotta wake her up to say it!
But he gathered up his courage and opened the door, using the key Lisa had given her. He stepped quickly inside, shutting the door behind him. He could barely see his way around. But the streetlamp outside was bringing some light in through the window. It was enough to make out most of the apartment, and to see the burned-out candles that filled it.
His heart sank terribly. She had something planned for us.
He needed to think. There was no way he could wake her now. He decided he would sit down and gather his thoughts, write her an apology note, and try to sneak back out before he woke her up. That's all I need, he mused. On top of it all, to scare her to death by poking around in her apartment...
But when he looked over the sofa, he found Lisa. Almost naked, half-buried in the cushions, and shivering as she slept.
His heart sank even deeper. He quickly stepped away.
Tiny pieces of glass crushed under Rick's boots as he crept into her bedroom. He found the broken neck of a wine bottle lying beside her dresser. His mind raced with terrible images of what might have transpired that night.
All because I couldn't be there, he thought.
He opened her closet and pulled out every blanket he could find. Trying not to step on the glass, he managed to make it back to the sofa where Lisa lay.
For a brief moment, it was all he could do to just watch her sleep. He was shocked at seeing her like this. Lisa was strong and self-sufficient, she was mature and had a quiet sense of pride. She was never fragile, naked and helpless, as Rick saw her now.
He turned his eyes away. What an idiot I am, he scolded himself. I've just put her through the worst night of her life, and all I can think about...is how beautiful she is.
One by one, he lay the blankets over her, and gently tucked her in. Lisa turned over in her sleep and drew the covers close to her. Her shivering slowly went away.
Rick knelt beside her. He wished he could take her hand, begin his explaining, talk all through the night if he had to. But it was too late. Lisa Hayes had been let down again.
"Mmhh... Rick..."
He quickly looked up. She was dreaming; her beautiful green eyes were still closed.
"...Rick...where are you..." she moaned.
His hand brushed away her long hair, and he touched her cheek. "I'm right here, Lisa," he whispered.
She yawned and slowly stretched her legs. "...oh...okay."
He chuckled under his breath, and wrapped her up tighter in the blankets. She cuddled them warmly, and he couldn't help but smile. When she seemed to get cozy and she finally settled down, Rick thought it would be best to leave.
But before he could get up, Lisa began to moan again. "mhh...Rick..."
"Yes?" he said softly.
"...where'd you go..."
He breathed a little laugh. "I'm still here."
"...oh...don't go?"
"I won't. I'll stay right here."
"...mmkay..."
Rick covered his smiling face. He sat on the hardwood floor, and tried to find a comfortable spot against the sofa. There didn't seem to be one.
"...Rick..."
"Yeah, Lisa?" he whispered.
"...just...making sure..."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm still here," he said again.
"...okay...kiss me?"
Rick was startled. Did...she mean it? Should I really -- what if I wake her? I can't just...I mean, she's not even...
Lisa stirred under the sheets. "...mmhh...please?"
He couldn't resist. He carefully leaned over her, and tenderly kissed her lips. Lisa's breathing rose in a quiet little gasp, and she uttered the most beautiful sigh he'd ever heard.
He smiled, dumbstruck, and kissed her on the cheek for good measure. But she seemed to pout a frown "...nuh-uh...just one," she whispered.
Rick rubbed his face in disbelief. Good grief, he thought, and sat back against the sofa to sleep.
The city of New Macross was alive. More alive than it had ever been in 1999.
It had a busy, successful downtown area where businesses thrived. It was a crowded, but very pleasant, place to live, with all the latest luxuries in every apartment complex. It had a wonderful nightlife atmosphere. It was, by any account, the perfect place to live. Just as it always had been.
From a distance, it would look as though the Earth had changed around New Macross.
Sixty percent of the planet was a scorched, barren desert. Much of the fresh waters had either dried up or become poisoned. Great mountain ranges were now flattened heaps of dusty rock. In some regions, entire continents were without vegitation or water.
Evidence of cataclysm was everywhere. The ruins of Zentraedi battle cruisers were half-buried in the sand and rocks. Skeletons of long-dead soldiers littered the fields. In these lands, there were immense stretches of wasteland between inhabited cities.
New Macross was one of the few cities that survived in the middle of a great wasteand. And it was all thanks to Robotechnology. The RDF had based its biggest operation, the SDF-3, in New Macross. The plan was to create an expeditionary starship -- a new Super Dimension Fortress. Fueled by protoculture, it would travel to the Zetraedi homeworld and convince the alien leaders to make peace.
But the RDF was amid a crisis -- it had run out of protoculture.
Michael Joons walked through the streets. It was a busy night in New Macross. The lights and sounds of downtown made him depressed.
Don't these people realize what it costs to make all this? he thought. They're sucking up all the protoculture.
He was right. New Macross was a double-edged sword. In order to keep the people of Earth hopeful, it had decided to rebuild Macross City into greatness. But after many failed attempts, the RDF resorted to using its only Protoculture Matrix to build -- and sustain -- the city.
So as New Macross grew bigger, the RDF grew weaker. All of its Robotech projects were grinding to a halt. And the SDF-3 was hidden, half-completed, somewhere in the desert without a Matrix to power it.
Joons watched as a young family -- a husband, wife, and baby boy -- went excitedly into a movie theater. The computer-animated movie Trucks was advertised on the marquee. And all down the street leading to the City Center, restaurants and clubs were alive with business.
We can't live like this forever, Joons thought. We're ignoring what's important. The humans and the Zentraedi...they hate each other! And New Macross is burning our protoculture on worthless things! Sooner or later...someone will have to make a sacrifice.
His eyes followed the street, until it ended at the City Center. Between the skyscrapers stood the mighty SDF-1. The original Super Dimension Fortress. It was planted in the ground, like a skyscraper itself, to forever remind the people of what they once endured.
Joons shook his head with disgust. It's so sick, he thought. It's there to remind them...but they're still forgetting. They don't even want to remember anymore.
He shook his head, watching the SDF-1 stand still in the middle of the city. It was covered with bright flood-lights, bathing the Fortress in a soft glow despite the dark night. Ironically, the very power that came form these lights was helping to deplete the RDF's energy.
Joons gave a sigh. Someone will have to make a sacrifice…