Disclaimer

Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me.

The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me.

I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me.


Wednesday's Child

Twenty-Four: The Razor's Edge

August 4th, 2010

Science and Technology Report

Prepared by Major Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division

The Space Augmentation Combat System

The Valkyrie was originally designed to operate in as many possible environments as could be forseen. This included ground combat, underwater combat, air superiority, and space combat. However, one unit by itself could not possibly excel in all environments. In fact, it soon became apparent that no one unit could operate in all environments and still meet minimum requirements for combat worthiness.

Therefore, the designers concentrated on two environments - air and ground - and allowed the other two to take a back seat, as it were, for design purposes. Nonetheless, the U. N. Spacy continued to insist that the Valkyrie be able to fulfill all roles with at least a certain amount of efficiency.

As a result, augmentation systems became available with the introduction of the VF-1J. Six firm points exist on the structure of the VF-1J, and an array of augmentation packages were designed to improve the Valkyrie's capabilities in alternate environments. This report will cover one in particular, the Space Augmentation Combat System.

Three shortcomings were realized in the Valkyrie's space combat capabilities. First, its lack of reaction mass is a severe limitation in space. During atmospheric operations, it can use air for reaction mass, but in space, it must rely on its internal bunkerage. Second, despite the increased payload of the J-type Valkyrie, it cannot carry sufficient missiles to carry out anti-shipping operations. Finally, its vernier thrusters do not provide sufficient angular momentum or co-ordination for proper zero-gee operations.

To correct the first fault, two large packages were added to the back of the Valkyrie. Each of these contains an additional fifteen hundred kilograms of reaction mass, as well as a vectored-thrust rocket nozzle, giving it greater acceleration in space. These two packages also contain additional missile launchers, allowing the Valkyrie to carry sixteen Coral Snake missiles, and carries BRCLOS targeting gear to guide eight at a time.

Two packages mounted one to each leg carry six hundred kilograms of reaction mass each, as well as containing vernier thrusters tied into a modular flight computer. This system, called Space Manoeuvering Attitude Reaction Thrusters (SMART) gives much greater angular momentum in zero-gee. Combined with the vectored-thrust nozzles, the SACS-equipped Valkyrie can change vector considerably more quickly.

Finally, to augment the Valkyrie's throw-weight, each arm receives a package with two missile bays, each capable of carrying a Jackhammer missile or two Diamondback missiles. What appear to be launch tubes at the leading edge of these packages are in fact additional chaff and flare launchers, bringing the total number of charges to thirty-two of each. The Jackhammer is to date the closest thing to an anti-shipping missile that the Valkyrie can carry, and with this package in place, the VF-1J can carry ten Jackhammers plus its sixteen Coral Snakes, in addition to its gun pod and laser armament.


"Skull Thirteen, LSO, say state."

Ranma clicked his mike open. "Skull Thirteen, ball, Victor Foxtrot One Juliet, seventeen hundred."

"Affirm, Skull Thirteen. Call your needles."

"My needles are right and high." The needles - actually a pair of lines on his right MFD - indicated his flight path relative to the optimum landing path for his trap.

"Needles are good. Ride the path."

Ranma checked the optical landing aid - called the meatball for reasons both ancient and obscure - and compared it to the automatic carrier landing system's readout, then adjusted his flight path.

"Slow."

He decreased throttle. This was the most nerve-wracking part of carrier aviation, either in atmosphere or out of it.

"Down."

His thumb flicked the trim control, pushing the nose of the fighter down a half-degree. He had to trust the Landing Signal Officer to bring his bird home.

"Left."

Another flick of the thumb. No matter how bad his angle seemed to be from the office, the LSO could see him better, and guide him in for a perfect trap.

As long as he trusted the LSO.

"Engage CLS."

Ranma gritted his teeth, and flipped the switch on the left control panel that brought the carrier landing system online. The computer took over, judging his speed and angle of attack, then switching the fighter to GERWALK.

"Wave off, wave off!"

Ranma switched off CLS, grabbed and yanked the F lever, and firewalled his throttle. He jerked back on the stick as hard as he dared, and the Valkyrie roared past the deck.

"Dammit, the computer ain't adjustin' for the heavier load!" He wished he could wipe his forehead, but his helmet was still sealed.

"Okay, Thirteen, calm down. Come about, match velocity, and we'll try it again."

He brought the fighter around, the controls feeling sluggish under his hand. Which made sense, since he was carrying several extra tonnes of gear.

"LSO, Thirteen. I think we need to disregard the needles and bring it in on the ball alone. Or maybe go for a tether."

"Let me know when you match velocity again, and we'll decide then."

"Roger." He tumbled the fighter, bringing it nose-on to the landing deck, and gave a short blast from his engines to bring the jet to relative rest.

"Thirteen, say state."

"Negative ball." He thumbed the trim controls again, shifting the jet downwards until he could see the light from the ball. "Okay. Thirteen, ball, seven hundred."

"Thirteen, LSO. You don't have enough gas to bolter again."

"I know." Ranma scowled. "We could try barricade, or a tether grab."

"Your call, Thirteen."

Ranma considered. Either solution would look bad on his copybook, but getting this bird on the deck took precedent. On the other hand, a successful trap would give Bell the numbers she needed to dial the CLS in to a fare-thee-well.

"Let's try the trap again."

"Okay, Thirteen. Give me plus five."

Takin' it cautious, ain't he? Ranma opened the throttles a crack, started the bird forward at five meters per second relative to the landing deck.

"Disregard needles. Call the ball."

"Ball is high and center."

"Confirm. Keep steady."

Ranma kept one eye on his velocity vector, another on the ball. He bit his lip as the light slid off the center point, vanishing below the lower marker. "Negative ball."

"Keep steady."

Oh, man, I hope this joker knows his shit.

"Speed up."

Ranma goosed the throttle a bit.

"Down."

He eased the trim controls, bringing the nose down.

"Call the ball."

"Thirteen, ball is high and center."

"Keep steady."

"Negative ball."

"Drop true."

Ranma yanked the G lever, and the ship reconfigured again to GERWALK. "Ball is high."

"Up."

Just a touch of the throttle trim. "Negative ball."

"Steady."

The Valkyrie crossed Prometheus' gravity deck, and started to sink.

"Up."

Another touch of the throttle. "Ball is high and sinking."

"Flare."

Ranma angled the nose down, and increased throttle. His back jets fired downwards, his leg jets matching them, and the GERWALK touched down, sliding out over half the gravity deck.


"Next time we use this package, I'll have the CLS dialled right in for you," promised Bell.

Ranma grunted. "Remember that once we bring SMART online, it'll change flight profile."

"You do your job, and I'll do mine," said Bell. "Wonder how long it took them to come up with that acronym?"

"Yeah." Ranma leaned back, and sipped his coffee.

"Now, as far as I can tell, all the exercise weapons performed as promised."

"The gun didn't," Ranma said with a scowl. "That's the third time I've had a malfunction with a GU-11 on that bird. Can't use it in fighter mode at all. Three different g-pods, as well. It ain't the guns, so it's gotta be the bird."

"I'll get on that," promised Bell. "The guns performed properly in GERWALK and Battroid mode, correct?"

"Yeah." Ranma nodded. "So I'd check the--" He broke off. "Sorry. Your job."

Bell chuckled. "You were going to say, check the fire control relays and the switching units?"

"Somethin' like that."

"We checked those last time your gun failed. This time, we're gonna disassemble the whole damn gun system, and check everything one piece at a time."

"That'll take a while."

"We'll try to have her back together in the next eight hours."

"Okay." Ranma sighed, and turned to his computer console. "I got a mess of reports to fill out on the test flight. So I won't keep you here any longer."

"Thank you, Sir." Bell saluted, and Ranma returned it absent-mindedly.


"This is the best chance for peace that we've had in a long while," argued Misa. "And I think it should be argued before the United Nations Council."

Global shook his head. "I don't think that the U. N. Council is in charge any more. Each dispatch I get from Command makes it more and more obvious that the entire Earth is falling back into a military dictatorship." He frowned. "Or oligarchy. The Admiralty seems to be running everything from Elmendorf."

"Then I should approach them," said Misa. "I might still have some influence over my father. I know he's not really the same man that you served under - time and command will change anyone - but I still think that he's got the best interests of Earth's people at heart."

"That is exactly why I don't trust him on this," said Global. "Any peaceful resolution of this conflict is going to end with Earth having to give up something, and the odds are good that the Zentraedi will want this ship. And that's assuming that we can make any kind of deal with them in the first place."

"But--"

"Plus, unless you've forgotten, if the Earth is now in the grasp of a military government, it would be your father, as the only full Admiral, who'll have his hands on the reins."

Misa shook her head. "Father is too devoted to the principals of the U. N. Forces to allow that to happen."

"Is he?" Global smirked. "'The only rights they have are the ones that they can take for themselves, or that we, their chosen representatives, choose to enshrine.' Sound familiar?"

"That--"

"Plus, he was completely willing to disregard the rights of those not in uniform. That combination strikes me as precisely the sort of attitude that would fit a military dictator." Global shook his head. "No, I don't think he can be trusted to negotiate in good faith."

"Even if he can't be trusted, it might be worth doing just to keep the Admiralty busy arguing," offered Misa. "If they're harmlessly diverted, they won't be doing something stupid and counter-productive. 'Jaw-jaw is better than war-war', even if the government has to be fooled into doing the jawing."

"Quoting Churchill would be more effective if my grandfather hadn't died in that war," observed Global. Then chuckled. "Of course, it was the Axis powers who stopped talking and started fighting."

"Yes, Sir. Including the Japanese." Misa smiled and pointed at herself. "Should we get Chief Engineer Lang up here too, so the Germans are represented as well?"

"Your proposed trip. Do you really think it will do any good?"

"Sir, I just don't know," she admitted. "But you know what will happen if I don't make the effort?"

"Yes. Nothing." Global considered, then reluctantly nodded. "All right. Talk to Lieutenant Grant, get your vectors plotted."


Ranma scowled. "Misa, you know damn well that when your dad gets you back under his thumb, he ain't gonna let you go."

"I am an adult, Ranma. I can choose where I want to go." Misa zipped her suitcase, and glanced around her quarters. "There's nothing he can really do to stop me."

"Well, actually, there is," pointed out Ranma. "You're a sworn officer of the U. N. Spacy. All he needs to do is to order you not to go."

"I'm assigned on a permanent basis to Captain Global."

"Orders can be changed," he said. "On top of that, I ain't so sure that he's gonna listen to you anyway."

"Someone has to try, and my word carries more impact than, say, Claudia's." She turned to face him. "I think that your problem lies in the fact that I'm leaving, not the mission."

"Of course," said Ranma. "Because I know that once you leave, you ain't gonna be allowed back. And this ship needs you."

"What about you?"

Ranma blinked. "Me?"

"Do you know, Ranma, that not once in the five months that we've been dating, have you told me that you loved me?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Not even once! Hell, we've been sleeping together for at least three months, and you've never said it. What am I to you?"

"You're my girlfriend."

"What a tame way to put it." She knew it sounded accusatory, but she couldn't help that. "Others have called us lovers. I've even heard one person refer to you as my fiance."

"I--"

"But no, just a girlfriend." She shook her head. "And when I'm about to leave, on a mission that you fear I won't return from, you argue that it would be bad for the ship! What about us?"

"Of course I'm worried about what this will do to us!" He stood up, started pacing. "Misa, you know I ain't so good at expressin' my feelings. Hell, it took me a year and a half to open up to Akane!"

"We've known each other ten years, Ranma. If you haven't managed to open up to me by now, I seriously doubt it's going to happen."

"Akane an' I were engaged within seconds of meetin' each other, Misa. We've only been together for half a year."

"Dammit, Ranma!" She balled her fists. "This so-called relationship has been staggering along, almost stagnant from the start. I still can't be sure where I stand with you. This has to change. I need a commitment!"

"I thought you woulda realized by now that you had it."

She felt the blood drain from her face. "You...you son of a bitch!"

"Huh?"

Almost of their own accord, her fingers found the clasp of the chain, and she pulled the Pallasite pendant from its place at her throat. It flew across the compartment, striking his chest and dropping to the decksole.

He stared at her, confusion warring with disbelief on his face.

She grabbed her suitcase and stormed out of the compartment. She was halfway down the corridor before the tears got past her control.


Max whistled. "Thing of beauty."

Hikaru glanced up. "Oh, they're finally fielding the Space Augmentation Combat System?"

"I wish," said Max. "No, that's still the prototype, undergoing evaluations. But damned if it isn't nice to see it ready to rock."

"VF-176...that's Hawkwing, Saotome's jet."

"Yeah. I saw the livery as we walked in."

Hikaru snorted. "I suppose it makes sense that he's getting to do the test-pilot thing, since he's in bed with the XO. Literally in bed."

"If you want to keep your teeth in your head, I'd advise against making such remarks within earshot of either of them," said Max. "But as it happens, the system's being pushed by Jackson, who went straight to the Skipper to choose Saotome for the test pilot."

"How'd you hear about all this?" Hikaru scratched his head. "I mean, I'm his CO, but all I heard was that he was being temporarily detached."

Max grinned. "We Snakes have been playing the Aggressor for him. All eighteen of us, and he can kill us all in a heartbeat."

"One hell of a package."

"One hell of a pilot, too." Max glanced sidelong at his friend and former CO. "He can do shit with a Valkyrie that makes my head hurt just looking at, and adding the SMART system just makes his manouevres that much more screwy."

"Well, that's good, I suppose, but how's his accuracy?" Hikaru frowned. "I'm sure that if he's jinking around that much, he's not going to be hitting much."

"He puts steel on target with each and every pull of the trigger," said Max. "Why are you so down on him?"

"Huh?"

"He went to bat for you for your promotion, your command, and he's been backing you to the hilt as CO of the Skull. But you've done nothing but call him down for at least the last two weeks."

"I'm not trying to belittle the guy," said Hikaru defensively. "I just don't think he's as good as everyone seems to think he is."

"You're right about that," said Max. Then waited a beat. "He's better than most people think he is. If anything, the Valkyrie's been slowing him down."

"Okay, I'll agree that he's a madman in combat," said Hikaru. "Way better than I'll ever be, or even you. And I have nothing personal against him."

"Then why the trash talk?"

"I dunno. Maybe it's jealousy," admitted Hikaru. "I mean, I was used to thinking of myself as the best pilot ever to strap on a pair of wings, and then along comes Saotome, and makes me look like a bumbling chump."

"Trust me, even I feel that way next to him," chuckled Max. "And on top of that, he's the single best martial artist that I've ever even heard of. Who wouldn't be jealous?"

"There's a shuttle prepping." Hikaru indicated it. "Is that your mission?"

"Yeah, my Alpha flight is escorting it." Max reached his jet, the Falconeur, and started his walk-around. "Considering how V. I. the VIP aboard is, I'm not surprised they want six jets for backup."

"Who is--Hey, that's Misa!"

Max paused, and glanced over at his friend. For once, he mused, I actually understand how two plus two can come to five.

"Yo, Hikaru."

"Yeah?"

"Trust me on this: If Ranma even suspects you're poaching on his turf, he is going to beat you into a thin red paste."

"I'm not--"

"Keep it that way." Max scowled. "If you coulda seen the expression on your clock right about now..."

"What?" Hikaru shook his head. "Look, Max, you got it just about as wrong as you can, okay? I mean, Misa an' I aren't really at loggerheads right now, but I'm not about to go off chasing her, okay? I ain't stupid."

"Besides that, you're still technically dating Minmay."

Hikaru snorted. "And while we're on the subject of poaching. All that Minmay seems to want to talk about recently is Saotome. 'Bout how cool he is, how nice he is, how he's helpin' her learn to fly...Shit. I could be teaching her to fly. But I hardly see her at all any more, between the schedules we're both keeping."

"Maybe you should discuss that with her." Max turned back to his walk-around. "Instead of talking to me about it, that is, or staring at other women with your tongue hanging out."

"I'm not--"

"Okay, forget I mentioned it." He waved it off, and bent down to check the underwing ordnance. "Do me a favour, and run down an Ordie, will you? I got a missile here with no tag."

"Okay, sure." Hikaru jogged off, and Max straightened up, and glanced back towards the shuttle.

Where's Saotome? You'd think he'd be seeing her off...and Misa looks like hell. He glanced back towards Hawkwing, and frowned.


What the hell is wrong with me?

Misa settled back into the acceleration couch, and dropped her face into her hands.

I knew going into this that he was a private person, that he doesn't easily show his feelings. I knew how devoted he is to those he cares for...why couldn't I see that? Why did I have to lash out like that?

"Ma'am, are you all right?"

She glanced up at the shuttle's cargomaster. "I'll live, Sergeant."

"Departure procedures, Ma'am. I need you to fasten your accel harness."

"Okay." She clipped the harness together, and the cargomaster double-checked it for her. Then straightened up and turned to leave.

"Sergeant, can I make a call from here?"

"Certainly, Ma'am." He turned back and activated the commo system. "Tied into the Macross phone network. Just dial as usual."

"Thank you, Sergeant." She hurriedly dialled his telephone number, and waited.

The phone rang four times, and then picked up.

"You've reached Saotome Ranma's phone, but I ain't in at the moment. At the sound of the tone, well...you know what to do."

The answering system beeped, and she opened her mouth to apologize...but couldn't say a thing.

I know I was in the wrong...why can't I say it? Why can't I tell him I'm sorry for hurting him?

She listlessly hung up the receiver, and turned to stare out the porthole.


"Gunsight Five, Snake Lead. I have bandits inbound, and we are engaging."

"Damn it," growled Global. "Nothing for three weeks, and then they choose now, of all times, to try something."

"Sir, the shuttle is well outside Cat's Eye or BARCAP range. In fact, I don't even think we can vector a Valkyrie that direction in time to make a difference."

"The Diamondbacks are second only to the Rogers for skill, Shammy." Global pulled his pipe from his pocket and jammed it between his teeth.

"Gunsight Five, Snake Lead. We count eighty Battle Pods and one Officer's Pod. Requesting assistance."

"Snake Lead, Gunsight Five. We'll see what we can send out." Shammy turned back to the Captain. "Sir, they're badly outnumbered, and Lt. Jenius wouldn't request backup unless he really thought he needed it."

"But you said it yourself, Shammy. No Valkyrie can make it to that fight in time."

"One can, Sir."

Global realized instantly which one she was referring to. He grinned. "And I can only think of one officer qualified to pilot that machine."


"Lieutenant Saotome, scramble orders. Proceed to the flight deck."

The announcement snapped Ranma out of his depressed funk. He was on his feet and running towards the lift before the bitch box cut off. He stabbed the lift controls, then the intercom.

"Saotome. I'm on my way to the flight deck. What gives?"

"We've got a horde of enemy Battle Pods chasing a VIP shuttle, and they're chewing up the Snakes. There's only one machine that can make a difference. I called Warrant Bell, and they're prepping Hawkwing for launch as we speak."

"Roger that, Gunsight Five. Call down there, and tell 'em I want the Diamondback Sixteen Plus package, and make sure my damned gun is plugged in this time."

"Will do, Lieutenant."

The lift came to a halt, and he tore across the flight deck to his ship, unzipping his uniform jacket as he went. He dropped the jacket into the somewhat surprised hands of a refuelling technician, and grabbed his flight suit from Bell.

"We're loading the last of the Diamondbacks now, Sir, and we found the problem with the gun."

"Yeah?"

"Details at eight. It'll work for you now."

"Good. Fuel state?"

"Six tonnes."

"I'll be bringing her back dry. In fact, I'd like a tanker."

"We'll get a buddy sent up."

Ranma leaped up to the cockpit. He could already hear the whining of the auxiliary power unit; someone had done half his pre-flight for him. In a scramble, he wasn't about to complain. The ordies finished with the weapons check, and ran clear of the jet. He started his left engine, ran it to quarter power to test, then started the right. The canopy came down, and he checked the fittings, then disengaged the wheel brakes as a deck tractor pulled up.

His nav computer beeped at him as he was going through the final weapon system configuration, giving him his co-ordinates and burn time. He overrode the defaults, reserving only five hundred kilos of fuel for the actual fight. This shaved two minutes off his flight time, and two minutes might save a lot of Diamondback lives.

Not to mention Misa's.

The jet shuddered as the tractor deposited it on the liftlock. Ranma waved the tractor off; he wasn't going to have time for a cat shot. He'd drawn three reprimands so far for ignoring deck protocol during a scramble, but he just didn't care. The liftlock sealed in front of him, and opened above and behind. Ranma didn't wait for it to begin elevating; he shifted the jet to GERWALK - no mean feat while it was still on its landing gear - rocketed straight up from the deck, and shifted back to Jet.

"Gunsight Five, Skull Thirteen. I am clear of Prometheus, and am starting my burn."

"Good hunting, Thirteen."

He hit the commit button, and was mashed back into the seat as the engines began generating thrust. A lot of thrust. Hawkwing surged forward at three gees of acceleration, burning over a hundred kilos of reaction mass per second. Forty-seven seconds after ignition, his speed was nearly fourteen hundred meters per second, and the engines cut out.

Six minutes ETA. I hope I get there in time.


Max gritted his teeth. Four Snakes has been shot down, and his wingman was damaged. His Flight had knocked down fifty enemy pods, but both he and Richardson were out of missiles, out of ammo for the guns, and while the lasers were working fine, they were now running out of reaction mass.

If they're sending help, it'd better get here soon.

His RWR pinged at him, but not the hostile sound of an enemy radar; this was the helpful chime of a Valkyrie-J's powerful radar suite.

"Snake Lead, this is Skull Thirteen."

"Oh, man, am I glad to see you," said Max.

"I bet. Power down your radar; I need freqs clear."

Max hastily shut down his radar. No need to order Richardson to do the same; his radar was among the damaged equipment on his jet.

"Thanks, Max. Now sit back and watch the fireworks. Contrails were spreading out from Hawkwing, Diamondback missiles from their speed, and they lanced into the Zentraedi robots. Detonations peppered the dense formation with fragments, tearing through the lightly armoured units like a knife through warm butter. Eleven Pods exploded from impact, and another five tumbled out of formation, bleeding air.

But Hawkwing wasn't letting up just yet. She continued to bore in, spitting Coral Snake missiles - How the hell can he carry all that? Max wondered idly. The Coral Snakes were less accurate and lower on speed, but Saotome managed to smack down another seven Pods. Then tumbled his Valkyrie, reconfiguring to Soldier, and tossed something towards Max.

"Catch!"

He caught it. A GU-11 gun pod clip. Max grinned wolfishly, ejected his empty clip, and rammed the fresh one home.

Ranma was burning to match velocity now, his gun pod firing burst after burst into the enemy Pods. Max joined in, working his way in from the other side of the formation. Apparently unnerved by the ferocity of the attack, the Zentraedi forces broke and ran.

But before running, the Officer's Pod launched six missiles.

Straight at the shuttle.

Max gaped at the missiles, then brought up the gun pod and hosed down the first. But they flashed across his engagement window too quickly to get the rest.

But Ranma was there. The increased speed and turn rate of the SMART system allowed him to match velocity with the missiles, and he pegged another one with his head laser. But even he could not shoot them all down before they reached their target.

Max's eyes widened, as Ranma put on more speed, then veered out into the path of the missiles. Hawkwing tumbled, bringing its arms up, and blocked the missiles with its own body.

The glare of the explosions highlighted Hawkwing for a moment, before the blasts shoved it away, tumbling into space.

"Saotome!" Max reconfigured to Jet mode and firewalled his throttles. He was dangerously low on reaction mass, but right at the moment, he didn't give a damn. He overtook Hawkwing, and grabbed it, stopping its tumble.

"Skull Thirteen, Snake Lead. You okay in there?"

"I'll live, Snake."

Max breathed a sigh of relief. "That new armour is right impressive, isn't it?"

Ranma chuckled. "I arranged for tanker support, there's a Valkyrie with a buddy store about ten minutes out. I'm assumin' that you're on fumes?"

"Pretty close."

"Can ya match velocity with the shuttle? That's the vector that the tanker is expectin'."

"Can do."


Her heart had stopped when she'd seen Hawkwing shield the shuttle from the missiles, but now that she saw Falconeur and Hawkwing lining up beside the shuttle, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank God he's all right!

Hawkwing lined up next to her porthole, and she saw his running lights flicker. Morse code. I'm probably the only person on this shuttle who can see the message.

MISA SORRY I HURT YOU

Tears welled in her eyes. Even if I'm too much of a coward to say it...even though I was the one in the wrong...

NEVER PROMISED THIS WOULD BE EASY

Too right, it isn't. Maybe we have a chance after all, though...if I can--

STILL WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND

No...

SHOULD STOP WHILE WE STILL CAN BE

Tears were running down her cheeks now, but she ignored them.

The best thing that ever happened to me, and I was too stupid, too stubborn, too full of pride to see it. I drove him away.

Hawkwing slid away from the port, resuming normal escort distance, and Misa turned away to look ahead. Towards her mission.

At least that she hadn't lost.