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-Six: Life and Death

August 18th, 2010

Goals and Intentions Report

Prepared by Lieutenant Chloe Arnliefdottir, Intelligence Division

The Influence of Human Culture on Zentraedi

Much has been made of the contamination of culture that occurs when Humans and Zentraedi intermingle, by both sides of the war. However, the Zentraedi have largely stamped out even wild rumours of the effects, and Humans have had limited exposure to Zentraedi culture - or what passes for it - to date. Most of the contamination appears to be one-way at this time.

The first, most obvious, reaction that a Zentraedi exhibits to exposure to certain elements of Human culture is nausea. They are repulsed, physically, by music or displays of affection. It is believed by members of this staff that the cultural conditioning that Zentraedi undergo is so strongly rooted in their psyche as to constitute a complex. Their reaction is typical of a Human when exposed to issues that are similarly taboo. Toilet training, for example, is a complex built into every adult human, and one that causes similar reactions to Humans when it breaks down. To properly understand the reaction that Zentraedi have towards cultural contamination, one need merely imagine oneself caught in a public place, having freshly urinated in one's pants. As puerile as the image is, it generates precisely the sort of reaction in a Human as exposure to music does a Zentraedi.

The key difference is that a Zentraedi quickly learns that exposure to music, or displays of affection, are not at all unpleasant, nor socially unacceptable. There quickly follows a period of intense experimentation - a fact that has gotten some Zentraedi aboard our ship in a fair dollop of trouble. Luckily, most of the women involved were understanding and forgiving, and to date, no Zentraedi has drawn any more punishment than a strong left hook. Add to the mix, the civilian population's willingness to dress differently from one another - a fact equally unknown among Zentraedi, outside of caste and divisional uniform differences - and one starts to wonder if the Hippie movement has returned in force. Many Zentraedi also discover that it is possible for them to create music, and creative effort seems to capture their imagination more thoroughly than any other portion of Human culture. Their efforts in this area tend to be energetic, complex, daringly experimental, and atonal beyond comprehension.

This is the state of the Zentraedi culture aboard Macross at this time. However, it is still in a state of flux. A third cultural shift is expected shortly, but at this time, only a few ideas have been presented as to the path it will take. Staff psychologists believe that, in time, the Zentraedi will integrate fully with Humans, and only genetic testing will make it possible to tell the two species apart.


"Thank you for coming, Lieutenant Saotome."

Ranma nodded. "Not a problem, Doc. How can I help?"

"We've got a patient with a personal problem," said Doctor Wood. She brushed a lock of black hair back behind her ear. "I was hoping that perhaps you could help her out."

"Well, I ain't a shrink, Doc." Ranma shrugged. "I mean, if you can't handle it, what good will I do?"

"The patient is herself a soldier," said Wood. "And since you were responsible for putting her in the hospital--"

"Whoa." Ranma raised a hand. "You don't mean Milia, do you?"

"Yes, that is her name. Milia Fallyna. Zentraedi, age unknown but appears mid-twenties. 'Fallyna' is apparently her Clan name; she rates high enough to--"

"Don't really care." Ranma turned and started towards the door.

"Lieutenant Saotome!" Dr. Wood followed him angrily. "This patient has attempted to commit suicide four times since being brought in here."

"Let her."

"Not on my watch!" Wood reached down to her belt and thumbed the security override; the hospital doors slid shut, and locked. Ranma cursed, and turned to face her.

"Look, that crazy chick pulled a knife on me. Don't expect sympathy from me."

"She is a warrior."

"So?"

Dr. Wood stalked up to him. "Would you turn your back on a Human warrior who needed your help?"

"Yeah, if she was the one who killed my best friend."

"Major Focker was a soldier. He took a soldier's chance." Wood crossed her arms. "This woman is in pain. She needs a friend. She doesn't have any here; you're the closest thing she has."

"Not close enough by far."

"This isn't like you, Saotome. I've read your psych profile; a woman in pain normally brings you running to help."

"Ya might have missed this part, Doc: She killed my best friend. An' don't give me that crap about a soldier's chance. Milia fired into his cockpit, after his jet was already disabled an' spirallin' in. She didn't haveta do that. He was out of the fight."

Wood paused, then stepped out of his way. "Fine." She thumbed the override again, and the doors slid open. "Go, then. I guess I was deluding myself, thinking you could help."

Ranma paused, one foot already out the door to leave, and turned to face her. "Whaddaya mean?"

"Well, it's obvious that you're not up to this."

Ranma bristled.

Wood paused to select her next needle with care. "I guess there are just some challenges that you can't meet."

"Fine!" Ranma turned and started walking back into the hospital. "Where is she?"

Wood carefully kept the grin off her face. "Room seventeen."


She was in a lot better shape than last time he'd seen her.

The burns had healed with no scarring. Her eyebrows had been burned right off; they were growing back, but were still very fine. Her hair had been charred by his ki blast, and an orderly had cut it, styled it in something resembling normal. It was now just above shoulder length, held back with plastic barrettes that made her look half her age--

Except that her age is unknown, Ranma corrected himself. She might be only fifteen; Nabs' report said that they're re-cloned at twelve to force maturity.

How the hell did I let myself get suckered into this?

Her wrists were bandaged, and handcuffed to the bed. Ranma frowned at this, and glanced over at Dr. Wood.

"How does she eat?"

"Under supervision," responded Wood. "With a plastic spoon, plastic dishes. The first day, we were allowing her restroom access - she has a remarkable amount of body modesty, incidentally. Doesn't like even a female orderly to see her undressed."

"You said, the first day she got restroom access. What happened to make you change that?"

"She shattered the mirror and cut her wrists," said Wood. "We replaced the mirror with a steel one, and she peeled it right off the wall and had another go at it. Luckily, that time, we were able to get in before she did any real damage."

"So how is she--umm..." Ranma rubbed the back of his head. "Ya know...gettin' her restroom breaks now?"

"Bedpan."

"Oh."

"Could be worse," said Wood. "With some patients, we've had to resort to a diaper."

He got the feeling that he was being manipulated again, and changed the subject. "So what exactly do you expect me to do with her?"

"Convince her that there is life after defeat," said Wood. "She feels that, having lost for the first time in even she doesn't know how long, there's no point in continuing to live."

"Well, that's just stupid," muttered Ranma. "I mean, even I've lost more than a few times." He paused. "Mind you, I always came back for the win later on."

"Perhaps that's what she needs to hear."

Ranma snorted. "She'll just try ta kill me again."

"Then perhaps you might mention some of the other challenges that await her," said Wood. "Live aboard Macross has got to be new and alien for her."

"I doubt that," said Ranma. "First time I saw her was 'bout a month ago, and she seemed to have already adjusted to life here. I never suspected she was an alien."

"Just try talking to her," said Wood. "You never know. You might end up forgiving her."

Ranma glanced over at the Doctor. "You sure you read my psych profile?"

"Hm?"

"'Cause if you'd read it properly, you'd know that I've already forgiven her. I just don't see why I should care what she does next."

Before the Doctor could respond, Ranma thumbed the door control and walked into Milia's room.

She looked up listlessly as he entered. "Have you come to finish me off?"

"Naw." Ranma grabbed a chair, pulled it around so that the back was facing her, and sat on it. He crossed his arms across the back of the chair, and looked at her. "Why'd they give you those stupid barrettes, instead of hair pins or somethin' more...grown up?"

"With a hair pin, I could end my miserable existence." Her mouth twitched in a sardonic grin. "For some reason, the people in this building want me to suffer."

"Naw, they don't." Ranma shook his head. "That's not their way. They just don't want ya hurt. At all. For any reason."

"They deny me the ability to end my pain."

"Look, Milia." He leaned forward. "I understand wantin' to be the best. Okay? I've been the best for most of my life. But everyone loses some time, ya know? Ya just gotta take your lumps, and come back to win the second time."

"Three times you have defeated me, Saotome."

"Hm." Ranma tapped his lip with a finger. "Once when I took your Queaddlun-Rau apart. Once at the video game. Once in hand to hand. That sum it up?"

"There is no need to mock me." She said it in a dull monotone.

"I ain't mockin' ya. That's three totally different types of contests, right?"

"I assume that you have a point to make?"

"You've only been defeated once in any of those."

She looked away from him. "Your attempts to improve my humour are not working."

"That's because I suck at this sorta crap."

"How do your people cope with defeat?" She looked back at him. "Tell me how this insane society deals with the constant defeats that seem to plague it."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Every person that I have spoken with since arriving in this madhouse of a ship has suffered. Most have been ripped from their homes and transported across space by a misfold. They have returned to their home planet, to be told that they are not wanted. Max Jenius seemed to want...something...from me, but whatever it was, he was denied, twice. And it angered him, but he kept going. Defeat after defeat after defeat, constant disappointment...and yet you continue."

Ranma shrugged. "No choice. Life goes on, ya know?"

"Among the Zentraedi, life does not go on after a defeat. If death does not come to us on the battlefield, it often comes at one's own hand, or one's Commander. A person who suffers three losses in battle is usually slain before her weakness can spread." She looked away again. "I came here to kill you. To purge my defeat, so that it would not be held against me. And you defeated me twice more. By my people's laws, I should die."

"Ya know what the strength of our society is?"

She glanced back at him. "It has a strength?"

"Quite a few, actually," he chuckled. "But the biggest one is our diversity. We got people on this boat from all over our planet, with many different ways of lookin' at things. The society that I'm from--" He pointed at himself. "We don't take as well to losses as others. People have killed themselves for things that don't even really matter. Heck, in the past, I've heard of mass suicides among the samurai whose Lord was slain."

"Samurai?"

"The warriors of my society," he explained. "But not everyone on this ship is like that. In fact, most come from North America or Europe. In those parts of the world, a person can lose absolutely everything, and will still come back for more. They got a sayin' over there: 'When you're at the bottom, the only way left to go is up.'"

"A bizarre idea," she said.

"But they got a point," said Ranma. "When you've lost everythin', you don't have nothin' left to lose. So ya might as well try somethin' new."

She looked away again, and frowned. "So what you are telling me to do is to find a new path in life, since the old path is now lost to me?"

"That's a good way of lookin' at it."

"What would you suggest I do?"

"Heck, I dunno." He scratched his head. "What do you enjoy doin'?"

"I have only ever been a warrior," she admitted. "I know no other path."

"I didn't ask you what you can do," he said. "I asked you what you want to do."

She frowned again. "I do not know! How does one choose a path in your society?"

"Mostly by tryin' out a lot of stuff, and seein' what she likes."

"You are a warrior, but surely you know people who are not warriors." She smiled tightly. "What do they do?"

"Uh..." Ranma scratched his head again. "Actually, most of the people I know are soldiers, too. There's Feichung; she's a cook. And her neice Minmay; she's a singer. Who else...?" He grinned. "Nabiki. She's a soldier, but not an in-the-mud type like me. She's Intelligence."

"Tendo Nabiki?" Milia's grin widened, though there was still no mirth in it. "I know her well."

"Figures."

"I expect that you are charged with preventing me from harming myself." She raised her wrists, the handcuffs clanking against the bars of the hospital bed. "If you assist me in finding my new path, I shall promise not to attempt self-destruction."

"Ya hear that, Doc?" Ranma grinned. "There's another one for ya. Doc Wood. She's a psychologist."

"What does that mean?"

"Like a medic, except for the brain." Ranma tapped his temple. "Ya know...for those who don't think right."

"Among the Zentraedi, such individuals are recycled."

Ranma shuddered. "Glad I ain't a Zentraedi, then. Doc Wood was most worked up about my stress levels a few months ago."


"Captain, I've got a single blip coming in, looks like one of their destroyers." Shammy adjusted the gain on her instruments. "Yes. Definitely a destroyer, unescorted. No robot screen."

"What the hell?" Global stepped closer to the display. "What's he playing at?"

Kim turned towards the Captain, one hand on the headset at her ear. "Captain, we've got a broadcast message - in Basic - from the incoming destroyer."

"On speaker."

"--unarmed, and without any robots except one Recon type. I repeat, we request a cease-fire and parley. We are sending one vessel bearing our emissary. It is unarmed, and without any robots--"

Kim cut it off. "It's repeating constantly, Sir. All standard frequencies."

"'Cease-fire.'" He glanced down at Kim. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Sir."


The nearest equivelant that the Zentraedi had to underwear was apparently a body-sock, covering everything from the knees to the collarbone. Such were simply not available on Macross, and Milia had been making do with a T-shirt and boxers. But the dress that the nurses scrounged up for her - her bodysuit was a write-off - just wouldn't look right with such garments, and it fell to Dr. Wood to explain the more Human clothing.

She eventually emerged, blushing badly, wearing a light summer dress that left her arms and no small amount of leg bare. Her hair was still in the barrettes, though reinforced with hair pins. Overall, she looked like a high-school girl, on a day off.

Ranma looked her up and down. "Ya clean up pretty decent, Milia."

"I feel practically naked."

"In Human society, body modesty is somewhat more relaxed," said Dr. Wood. "Especially among members of the same gender."

"I understand this--I've witnessed it often enough--but I still do not feel entirely comfortable."

"What I find kinda bizarre is that ya look so...I dunno."

"Innocent?" supplied Wood.

"Yeah. When ya consider your background, that's just strange."

"Perhaps it would be best to ignore her background for now," said Dr. Wood. "Just treat her as any other girl on the street."

"A girl this cute will attract a lot of attention on the street."

Milia blinked. "'Cute?'"

"Attractive. Ya know...the sorta girl that most men would wanna look at."

Milia's eyes widened, and she turned back to the Doctor. "Is there nothing else that I might wear?"

"You'll have to get used to it, Milia, if you want to fit into this society." Dr. Wood smiled. "Don't worry. It's not a bad thing."

"Unless the guys get grabby," added Ranma, a look of disgust on his face. "If that happens, ya can smack 'em."

"If you'll excuse us, Milia, I need to talk with Lt. Saotome for a moment." Dr. Wood stepped out of the room, and Ranma jumped to his feet and followed her. Wood closed the door between them and Milia, and turned to Ranma.

"There was an additional reason I wanted you to help Milia."

"Knew it." But he didn't sound as bitter or as unhappy as she'd feared.

"Her entire world view has been...shattered. For the next five days or so, she is going to be in a state of flux. And you are the centre of that flux. You defeated her. And you dragged her back from the dead and forced her to live again. You could tell her to do anything, and she will."

"I guess that explains why I was able to talk her into a new life," muttered Ranma. "Wasn't any skill involved at all."

"Not a lot," said Wood, "but some. Over the next few days, though, she's going to need a chaperone. And unless I read your psych profile very wrong, you're noble enough not to take advantage of her."

"Take advantage of her how?"

Wood's eyebrows rose, and to Ranma's disgust, he found himself blushing.

"I'd never do nothin' like that!"

"I know. Like I said--" The comm terminal beeped, and she cursed under her breath and walked over to it. "Dr. Wood."

"Is Lt. Saotome with you?"

"Yes."

"Please have him report to Briefing C. Also, please send Milia Fallyna with him, if she is well enough to leave the hospital. And finally, please have Mr. Saotome report in female form."

"What the hell?" muttered Ranma.


The reason for the rather unconventional summons was immediately apparent when she entered the briefing room. At the head table, next to Captain Global, was a familiar face. Grayish skin, red hair, and somewhat bug-eyed, and a lot smaller than Ranma remembered him.

"Archivist Exedol." Ranma bowed towards the gnomish man. "A pleasure to see you again."

"More so than last time, I would wager." Exedol nodded back to her. Then turned to his companion. "Assault Leader Milia. Pleased to finally meet you."

"Minister Exedol." She saluted him, but he waved it off.

"No need for that. Save it for someone who demands it."

"As you wish."

Ranma took advantage of the brief exchange to look over the former Giant. He was rather puny, and the uniform he was wearing - a U. N. Spacy mess-dress of the smallest size - hung on him poorly. Considering the last time she'd seen a Micloned Zentraedi, she could well understand why they'd found him some clothing. The Zentraedi didn't seem to stock Miclone-scale garments.

But why the hell does he have to wear our uniform?

"Ladies." Ranma shot Global a glare, but he ignored it. "If you could find a seat?"

"Aye, Sir." Ranma led Milia over to the left-side table and found her a seat, then grabbed one for herself. This put them across from the three former Zentraedi spies, all of whom were staring at Milia in confusion and awe. She glanced around the room, spotted Nabiki in one corner, preparing some sort of recording equipment.

She snorted. Some things never change.

The doors opened again, and Max walked in and saluted. "Squadron Lieutenant Jenius, reporting as..." He trailed off, staring at Exedol.

"I see that I am remembered well," chuckled Exedol.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Please, take a seat."

He walked over to where Ranma and Milia were sitting. "Ladies."

Ranma rolled her eyes. Milia narrowed hers. Max ignored both of them, and pulled out a seat next to Milia.

"Commander Ichigyo reporting as ordered."

"Yo, Hikaru. They gave you your second pip?" Ranma flashed him a thumbs up. "Good job."

"Thanks, Ranma."

"Mr. Ichigyo has more than earned his promotion," said Global.

"If I may," said Exedol. "I do not remember this young man being present for the interrogation."

"He was the one that busted in an' rescued us," said Ranma. "The Valkyrie dressed like a Zentraedi."

"Ah." Exedol nodded. "Well, I believe we are missing two people still."

"I believe that I mentioned that Commander Hayase is Earthside, and Lt. Kakizaki is unfortunately no longer with us."

"Yes, and I am sorry, Commander Ichigyo, to hear of your loss."

"Thank you, Sir."

"But though the non-presence of Commander Hayase is most unfortunate, I was referring to your psychological warfare expert and the man with the energy expulsion techniques."

"Psychological warfare?" Global frowned. "I am not aware of any such."

"The woman who sings," said Exedol. He stood up and launched into a dreadfully bad rendition of Minmay's "Shao Pai Lon," right down to matching her pattern of dance. Which on anyone would look stupid, but on a four-foot-tall, gray-skinned Zentraedi, wearing U. N. Spacy mess-dress, looked grotesque.

"I think," said Ranma, "that he means Ling Minmay and Ling Kaifunn." She glanced back at Exedol. "Minister...don't give up your day job."

Chuckles ran throughout the Humans in the room. The various Zentraedi present merely looked befuddled.

"I'll have them paged," offered Nabiki.

"Excellent," said Global. "There may be a delay while they arrive. If anyone would like refreshments?"

Coffee, tea and fruit juice was offered around. Ranma noted that most of the Zentraedi seemed to favour the fruit juice. Exedol in particular was quite taken with orange juice. Only Warera seemed to prefer coffee.

For herself, Ranma chose tea, though she was disappointed that the only tea available was Orange Pekoe, a blend that she considered rough and nasty.

With beverages dispensed, Global turned back to Exedol. "Minister, you seem to be under the mistaken belief that Ling Kaifunn has some sort of energy attack. However, the 'attack' that you witnessed was not real, but the product of special effects."

"'Special effects?'"

"They were faked," offered Ranma.

"You see," continued Global, "No human actually possesses that sort of power."

Nabiki cleared her throat. "Actually, Captain, you are in the presence of one person with such power." She pointed across the room, at Ranma.

Exedol blinked. "Yes, that's right. You stated the first time that we met that you had defeated a Queaddlun-Rau with your bare hands."

Ranma shrugged, ignoring the fact that Milia was now gaping at her in disbelief. "Not somethin' I can do every day."

Global frowned. "Lieutenant, do you mean to tell me that you can make such attacks?"

"Didn't Misa tell ya?" Ranma shrugged again. "She saw me do it once."

"So have I," said Milia. "In fact, I was on the receiving end of it. It was not pleasant."

"And I have personally seen Lt. Saotome perform even more stunning feats," added Nabiki. "Including the creation of tornadoes and the ability to turn invisible."

"I gave up that trick," muttered Ranma. "It got me malletted. By you, Nabs."

"Don't call me that, or you'll get another."

"You also stated," said Exedol, "that there were perhaps a dozen people with your level of power."

"Ryouga, Herb, Saffron, Happousai, Cologne--assumin' that those last two are still alive." Ranma snorted. "Probably they are. Rouge. Hinako, but her hand-to-hand skills are kinda weak. Kumon. Pops." She frowned. "That's all I can remember right off the hop."

"Is it possible that this Ling Kaifunn is also among that number?"

"Naw." Ranma shook her head. "He's good, but not nearly on my level."

The doors parted again, and Minmay and Kaifunn walked in. Kaifunn looked around angrily.

"My time is very valuable," he said. "Why have you military buffoons decided to waste it?"

"Kaifunn, not now," said Minmay. She waved towards Ranma, then squealed, "Hikaru!" She ran over to him, gave him a hug.

Exedol recoiled at the display. "I do have reason to doubt I shall ever grow used to that."

Kaifunn glanced at him. "Who exactly are you?"

"Chief Archivist Exedol Folmo, Botoru Regiment, Zentraedi Mechanized Infantry." Exedol bowed towards him. "Pleased to meet you."

Kaifunn's eyes widened, until they were bugged out almost as much as the Minister's. "You--"

"Minister Exedol is here to negotiate a cease-fire," said Global.

"Oh." Kaifunn grabbed a chair and sat down next to Roli. "In that case, it's not a waste of time at all."

"Anythin' involvin' Kaifunn is a waste of time," muttered Ranma. This earned her a cuff from Minmay.

"Be nice!"


As she had half-expected, Misa had not been permitted to return to Macross. Instead, she found herself ordered to a sensory officer's position at the Grand Cannon.

Not precisely a billet for a Commander, she thought angrily. And my place is on my ship!

The architect of her discontent stepped into the compartment. Admiral Hayase walked down the rows of instruments and technicians, examining each as he passed. He paused at Misa's station, and dropped a hand on her shoulder.

"Settling in well? Getting the hang of the station?"

"Yes, Sir." She tapped a key, brought up a communication. "Macross has arranged a cease-fire, independant of your orders. One of the Zentraedi leaders is aboard the ship, discussing possible terms of peace."

"So I heard."

"If they can arrange peace, we may not have to fire the Grand Cannon."

"If it holds. However, according to the reports, the cease-fire is only with the Botoru Regiment. The remainder of the Zentraedi fleet might arrive at any time. In that event, we will certainly have to use the Cannon."

Misa looked down at her terminal.

Hayase straightened up. "I'll be at the core. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything." He turned and walked toward the hatch.

Misa stood, opened her mouth...then sat back down.

It's like he wants an excuse. Nothing I say is going to change his mind.


Exedol set the phone handset back on his cradle, and looked up to Global.

"It is as we feared. Bodolze has mobilized the Main Fleet and is coming to Earth."

"So he intends to destroy our planet."

"No, Captain. He intends to destroy this ship, as well as the ships of the Botoru Regiment."

"Your own people?" Ranma stood up. "Why?"

"We have become contaminated, and the only way to purge that contamination is to destroy its source, and all infected soldiers." Exedol turned back to Global. "If we can move Macross away from your planet, it may be that the Main Fleet will ignore it."

"And it may not," said Global. "Either way, we are sworn to protect our planet."

"I understand. I would do no less." Exedol hesitated. "There may be a way to defeat the Main Fleet. Commander Vwritlai expected that we would come under attack by our own forces, due to the cultural contamination. Therefore, he instructed me to inform you that he is willing to place the Botoru Regiment under your command."

Global nodded. "How many ships does the Botoru Battalion number?"

"We have twenty thousand ships," said Exedol. "However, the Fifth Battalion has chosen to absent itself from this battle, costing us five hundred ships. Of course, there is also the matter of the Quadrano forces present; they number only ten ships, with one Division of Queaddlun-Rau mecha." He turned to Ranma. "Commander Lap'Lamiz will assist us, but she is not willing to place herself under Miclone command. She will, however, release her armoured units to our control. They would be under the command of your highest-ranking female officer, which I would assume is you."

"Actually, Nabs outranks me," said Ranma quickly.

"'Nabs?'"

"Lieutenant Saotome refers to me," said Nabiki. "However, Lt. Saotome is our highest-ranking female pilot."

"Thanks," she muttered.

"But she is female only part of the time," said Milia.

"It will not matter to the Quadranos," said Exedol. "All that she is required to do is to lead them in battle."

"I ain't a Zentraedi," argued Ranma. "Ya think that they're gonna follow a Human?"

"They will," said Milia, "if you are a Quadrano."

"Kinda short to be a Quadrano, ain't I?"

"We have several Quaddlun-Rau with Miclone-scale cockpits."

"Wha--Whoa. Jet back!" Ranma glanced from Milia to Exedol. "I ain't checked out on no alien robots! I--"

"The Main Fleet will be five days in fold," said Exedol. "Assault Leader Milia is a qualified flight instructor, and can educate you in the use of the Quaddlun-Rau combat robot."

"An excellent suggestion," said Global. "But a field brevet seems in order. Lieutenant Saotome, you are hereby breveted to Commander, and ordered to report with Assault Leader Fallyna aboard the primary carrier of the Quadranos, there to take command of the--" He glanced over at Milia.

"The First Quadrano Armoured Infantry."

"The First Quadrano Armoured Infantry. Congratulations, Commander. You've got a Division."

Ranma sat back down, considering the situation. Then smacked her forehead into the table.

"This just ain't right."


"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Father." Misa nodded. "It seems that the cease-fire with the Botoru Regiment is holding, but Bodolze and the Main Fleet are coming to attack."

"Yes, I saw the report," said Hayase.

"I'd like to request a transfer back to Macross," she said. "My place is with my comrades."

Admiral Hayase frowned. "That ship is sailing into harm's way. The odds very strongly favour her destruction with all hands."

"But that is where I am needed," said Misa. "My comrades and I have fought side by side throughout this war."

Hayase shook his head. "No. I am sorry, but I can't send my own daughter to her death. It's too much to ask of me."

"Please, Sir. I am a soldier--"

"As am I," he snapped.

"Then transfer me back to my duty station!"

"I cannot!" He shook his head. "I might be a soldier, but I'm also a father. I'll toss you in the brig rather than send you to that flying death trap!"

She stiffened, then stepped back and saluted him. "As the Admiral pleases."

From his expression, it might as well have been a slap. She turned and walked away from him.

"Misa, please, try to understand--"

She glanced back at him.

"Coward."