Orbit Chapter 7

The rest of the day and night passed on Armor Seven, and Vanessa still wasn't sure what to make of what she and May had been through. They were given medical checks, pain relievers, and muscle relaxers for their minor injuries, and kept separately overnight for observation. While she slept, she dreamed of flying in the rear seat of a Valkyrie that rocketed through spinning fields of stars. The Moon loomed large, but never got any closer. Zentraedi ships flew past endlessly on every side, hulls peeling away, breaking apart, crew drifting out into the void, then collapsing back together again, over and over. Throughout the dream, she heard, but could not see, May crying in the pilot's seat, asking her plaintively if they could go home. When morning arrived, there was still no information about Reyes's condition, other than that he was alive. At the time of her discharge from Sick Bay, Vanessa received written orders.

At 1000 hours, you are to report to B Deck Conference Room in full dress uniform for formal disciplinary inquiry into your actions during the test flight emergency yesterday.

Commander Millard Johnson

Vanessa shook her head. Apparently she was not going to be forgiven for her disobedience. There had been no ambiguity to Johnson's instructions to hold position until the emergency was resolved. Every second mattered, so when she determined what needed to be done, there wasn't time to convince him first. Now she would be held to account. Her main hope was that she could deflect any similar action being considered against May.

Vanessa showered, changed into her uniform, and made her way to B Deck, conscious of the stares that followed her everywhere she went. No one spoke to her. She entered the conference room, and stopped, surprised. The small table she would be expected to testify at was present, as well as the one for the recording equipment. The longer table for the trio of examining senior officers was also ready, but the room held only one officer. Commander Johnson had his back to Vanessa, watching the huge, bright Moon that nearly filled the view through the observation port.

Vanessa stepped forward and saluted. "Reporting as ordered, sir."

"Lieutenant Commander Leeds," he acknowledged, but did not turn around.

She held the salute, confused. "Sir, I… where are the other officers? For the inquiry?"

Johnson turned halfway, his expression giving away nothing, and returned the salute. "At ease Commander." He waved her over to the observation port, and stared out at the Moon again. "There's not going to be an inquiry. I had a visit from the Admiral this morning. We had a frank exchange of views."

"I'm not sure I understand."

Johnson didn't explain. "So close, isn't it?" he said instead, nodding toward the Lunar surface.

Vanessa swallowed and decided to play along, following his gaze. "It's beautiful."

"Yes," he said, distantly. "I would have liked to fly there some time."

"Maybe you'll get the chance, after this assignment."

Johnson turned and met her eye. "No, Leeds, I don't think so. Not everyone is fortunate enough to receive prototype cybernetics from Doctor Lang himself."

"Sir?"

Vanessa's stomach dropped as Millard put his right boot on the nearest chair and tugged his pant leg up, revealing a replacement limb. It was well made, with modern materials and sturdy construction, but it was as different from her leg as a twentieth century fighter jet was from a veritech. It certainly explained the stiffness in his walk. He dropped the pant leg and set his foot down again.

"There's more, but I'm not going to put on the entire horror show for you."

Vanessa felt a pain in her chest, comprehending so much more about her lead instructor now. "I'm… I'm so sorry, sir. I had no idea."

"I don't resent you, Leeds… well, maybe a little. I would very much like to fly over the Moon." He smiled wryly. "The truth is, I greatly admire you, your drive, your skill, and your integrity. Lieutenant May, of course, is showing herself to be a great talent. It is to my regret that she was not identified and recruited into the aviator corps during the early stages of the war."

"Her work in Barrier Control was important. She might have saved the SDF-1 more than once," Vanessa ventured.

"Perhaps. Do you understand then, why I couldn't let your actions yesterday pass?"

"Sir, May and I were the only ones who could get to Reyes in time. That is a fact." She tried to be firm, not insubordinate.

"Do you know how I got these injuries?"

"No sir. It had to be recent. You flew with Skull Squadron all through the war."

Millard nodded, looking out the observation port at the pearlescent sphere again. "I was a rookie under Commander Fokker, during the dying days of the Global War. On the SDF-1, I watched the raw recruits go through the emergency training program after the Zentraedi attacked. Saw the kids die by the dozens, half-trained, with only a handful of flight hours under their belts before they were thrown into battle. Not too different from you and May. A few, like Hunter and Sterling, survived, and surpassed us all, rising above pilots with years more combat experience."

"I thought you got along well with the Admiral?" Vanessa asked, remembering the warm greeting at their arrival on Armor Seven.

Millard shrugged. "Admiral Hunter is a fine leader. We all had our doubts after Fokker bought the farm. Hunter was a hot pilot, who flew some high profile missions, but we didn't really think he had what it took to fill Fokker's shoes. We figured his getting command of the squadron had something to do with their closeness before the war, some kind of nepotism. But, the way he conducted himself during the Battle of Ontario… There were no doubts after that. Add the Sterlings in, and Skull Squadron was more elite, more a family, than ever. And then things changed."

"Do you mean after the SDF-1?" Vanessa asked somberly.

"That's where it started. We saw it as a failure. Skull Squadron didn't save the day."

"Commander, there were thousands of soldiers in that battle! Hundreds of Valkyries and destroids."

"But only one Skull Squadron. You know there's a mystique around the Jolly Rogers."

Vanessa had to concede that. She nodded.

"Then Miriya Sterling got transferred out to the flight training program, and Captain Hunter got promoted up to admiral," Millard went on. "By the time we reached the Southlands, there was some real question as to whether the old magic was gone forever."

"I understood that Skull Squadron did well down there. It was the military pressure combined with the amnesty offer that got the warlords to disarm."

Millard nodded. "We won. But at a cost. One of the guerilla units, a splinter of Khyron's original force, was using a Cyclops Theater Scout as a mobile command and control center. When we raided one of their camps, it took off from the valley where they had hidden it. The Squadron had its hands full with battlepods and powered armor activating from concealed positions, plus multiple missile emplacements. My wingmate, Lieutenant Erica Jensen, and I peeled off to chase it."

Millard laid his palm on the surface of the observation port.

"Commander Sterling told us to pursue it and shoot it down, but we had a better idea. We would blast our way inside; capture it and all the data on board. Gather enough intelligence to allow us to crush the insurgent group once and for all. Prove that Skull Squadron was still the best."

Vanessa could see where this was going. "Admiral Hunter tangled with one of those, once. It self-destructed, after the crew evacuated, and he barely survived."

It was in fact, the mission on which Bron, Rico, and Konda first encountered Earth culture, through the broadcasts they intercepted from the SDF-1.

"That's true. And if Hunter had been there, he probably would have told us how stupid we were being and gotten us back into formation. But he wasn't, and we thought we could do better. Commander Sterling may be the best pilot ever to fly, but he didn't have full confidence in his ability to command yet. When he tried to call us off, we ran right over him."

Millard turned to face Vanessa again. "After it self-destructed, we fell about a thousand feet, trapped inside the burning wreckage. I survived. Jensen didn't."

Vanessa shook her head. "Miriya never said anything about this."

"Don't take it personally. We don't like to talk much about the ones we lose. The point is, I went into a situation beyond my skill, taking with me a subordinate who trusted me. I did it because I thought I had something to prove. The price of that decision… was terrible."

Millard kept his face stoic throughout his story, but his voice broke over the final words. In spite of Millard's formality, Vanessa reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked away.

"You blame yourself, but you weren't disciplined, you were promoted to commander," she noted.

"The promotion was necessary for my new role. This is my penance. To endure my injuries, and never fly again. To train new pilots, instill them with my skill, and prevent them from repeating my reckless mistakes."

"I know there are similarities between our situations, but they weren't the same. I wasn't trying to prove anything out there. Reyes needed help."

Millard folded his arms. "You disobeyed orders, and you took May with you into a situation that neither of you was qualified to handle."

"You told me I had to accept responsibility as a leader. There was only a moment to act, and no one else was in a position to do anything. I made an assessment based on the skills that May and I possess, and determined a rescue was possible. Recklessness and proving something about the command program had nothing to do with it, sir. I will accept the consequences of my actions, but I will defend them, and May, who acted with the utmost skill, commitment, and resilience." There was a tremor that Vanessa couldn't keep out of her voice. Her body was still responding to the stress of the last twenty four hours. But she believed in every word.

Millard grunted. "The Admiral shares your assessment. I was going to ground you, and have you answer for your actions before a full panel of officers. I felt that it was necessary to prevent dangerous behaviors by younger pilots who would be tempted to overreach themselves, following your example. That won't happen now."

Vanessa's shoulders sank in relief. Millard raised a forefinger.

"However, the fact remains that neither you nor May has been medically cleared to fly again yet. We are also now down one Valkyrie trainer. VT-Seven-one-four has been declared a total loss. There will be no inquiry, but I still have the authority to carry out administrative punishment."

Millard squared his shoulders.

"Lieutenant Commander Leeds, you are hereby deprived of two weeks pay. You are restricted to quarters outside of meals and training for the remainder of your time on Armor Seven. You will use what free time you have to prepare an exhaustive report on your participation in the rescue of Lieutenant Reyes. The command candidates will then question you and analyze and critique in detail every aspect of your and May's decision-making and flying yesterday, from the announcement of the emergency to your landing on Armor Seven. Is that understood?"

Vanessa's face colored. Why couldn't she seem to avoid being placed at the center of attention? "Understood, sir."

"As your subordinate during the flight, Lieutenant May will not be subjected to the same administrative punishment, but will be expected to submit her own report and take part in the analysis. She should be back at your stateroom now." Millard's voice softened. "It would be wise to talk to her."

"Yes sir."

"Oh, and one last thing. There is a special gathering of Armor Seven aviators tonight at the aft Wardroom. 2100 hours. Your and May's attendance is expected."

May was lying on her bunk when Vanessa arrived. The young woman was facing the bulkhead, and didn't move when Vanessa came through the hatch. Vanessa didn't care that May hadn't stood up or saluted. She sat down on her own bunk, and thought for a moment about what to say.

"May?" she asked.

"Yeah?" May replied quietly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Confused," she answered after a moment.

"Me too." She studied her cybernetic hand, and ran her thumb across her fingertips, a habit she had developed when she couldn't meet someone's eyes. "I talked to Commander Johnson. You're not in trouble."

"That's good... Are you?"

"Yeah, but it's nothing serious. We'll both have to talk with the other trainees about what we did, though."

"I see." May still hadn't moved.

"You know, your flying out there was amazing. I'm just not sure it was fair of me to ask you to do it," Vanessa admitted.

May finally rolled over. Her face was wan. "I asked you to do something. How could I blame you for trying?"

"Thank you. But are you alright?"

May closed her eyes and thought about it. "I'm not really sure. I can't tell whether I'll go to pieces the next time I get in the cockpit, or whether I'm ready to move past doubting myself. I'd like to know that Reyes is going to be ok. It would help to know that all of that fear and effort meant something."

May opened her eyes again, and they were glistening. Vanessa got up and knelt by her, reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from her friend's eye.

"I also want to know how he is. But however it turns out, what you did meant something. It's what we do as soldiers, risking our lives for others. The willingness to do that matters. Be proud of how you flew, and why."

May smiled weakly. "Thanks. And thank you for leading me, helping me, and directing me. I could never have done it alone."

Vanessa smiled back. "I've always worked better as part of a team. I'm glad I had you as my pilot."

The aft wardroom was unusually crowded. Normally, crew visited at all hours, eating meals as their flight sorties permitted. Tonight, nearly the entire Armor Seven air group was crammed into the cafeteria space. Every table was filled elbow to elbow with pilots, flight officers, search and rescue operatives, and electronic warfare specialists from the ship's various squadrons, with extra folding chairs set beside the bulkheads.

Captain Petrovich was at the center of it all, fanning himself with his cap. He greeted Vanessa and May with a disturbingly wide smile.

"Ah, good, good, Lieutenant Commander, Lieutenant. Get yourselves drinks, we'll start in just a moment."

"Sir, what's all this about?" Vanessa asked, already feeling the heat of the overflowing space. May hugged her arms to her sides, looking uncomfortable.

"All in good time," Petrovich assured them, waving them over to the beverage bar.

Vanessa shrugged to May, and pulled out her ration card, but as she laid it flat on the counter, Petrovich blocked it with his own.

"Your ration card is no good, for the rest of your stay on Armor Seven," he said slowly. "We are capable of recognizing exceptional efforts. The same goes for you, Lieutenant May."

The enlisted crew handed Vanessa and May their drinks, and the hatch opened one more time, admitting the ship's executive officer, Commander Forrester. All eyes turned to the man, who drew himself up formally.

"I am authorized to inform the crew that Lieutenant Jose Reyes is suffering from contusions, a broken arm, and a severe concussion, but he is conscious and is expected to make a full recovery. The Captain hopes you all enjoy your evening. That is all."

The officer departed to cheers and applause. Vanessa clapped and grinned at May, who was cheering loudest of all. Everyone drained their glasses. When the gathered flyers quieted, Petrovich called them to order.

"There is a tradition, when U.N. Spacy aviators complete their training and receive their first assignment to an active squadron," he explained, for Vanessa and May's benefit. "That is the time that they are given a call sign by their squadron mates. A nickname that will follow them through their entire career. A name given to acknowledge their personality; a quirk or flaw… perhaps some amusing incident from their training."

Vanessa and May exchanged interested glances. After the difficulties they had fitting in when they arrived on Armor Seven, it felt like a special privilege to be asked to witness this tradition. They were surprised when Captain Petrovich beckoned them to join him in the center of the room.

"When Lieutenant Commander Leeds, Lieutenant May, and their fellow officers arrived among us," he said, "there was understandable skepticism. Things were said and actions were taken which I think most of us now regret. It is safe to say that these aviators' courage, skill, and dedication has now been proven beyond any doubt."

There were shouts of agreement at his words. Commander Kayano, the leader of 115 Squadron, stepped into view. "Leeds and May flew home with my squadron yesterday. They made the wildest, most dangerous first flight since Admiral Hunter took a Valkyrie trainer straight into the air battle on Launch Day. So I've made a request for them to be granted special status, which Captain Patrovich has approved. Although they will be on detached duty, so that they can continue their training, for as long as they are on Armor Seven, they will be listed as active with my unit."

The short, sharp featured woman turned to Vanessa and May. "Welcome to the Stormblades," she told them, to renewed cheering.

"Thank you," Vanessa said, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. May was relaxing, the good news about Reyes, and the acceptance of their peers bringing a smile back to her face.

"Which means," Kayano announced, "it's time for us all to pick their call signs. We'll start with Lieutenant May." There were more cheers and catcalls. Flyers began shouting out.

"Dizzy!"

"Growler!"

"Savior"

"Burnout!"

May's face colored more deeply at each suggestion, then Kayano grinned and raised her voice.

"Hazard!"

The Armor Seven officers roared their approval, and May, unable to speak, nodded and smiled shyly.

"Now, Commander Leeds," Kayano said, and Vanessa gulped.

"Cyclops!"

"Survivor!"

"Pirate!"

"Wonder Woman!"

"Radar!"

This went on for a moment, Vanessa blushing just as strongly as May had, until Captain Petrovich raised his hands for silence.

"These are all very good suggestions, but I would like to make my own proposal," he said. "You see, I am rather fond of double meanings. A few of you might be familiar with the instant drink, Tang? I believe I have heard one or two of my pilots mention it this last week?"

Vanessa's embarrassed smile fell from her face, and she heard murmurs among the crew. Petrovich's wide, lipless grin didn't waver.

"Of course, it is more than just a beverage drunk by astronauts. Tang is also a very old term, from metalworking. The 'tang' is the section of a sword or knife that extends from the bottom of the blade into the hilt. You see, the tang does not cut, but it is the part that allows a weapon to be swung with force, and to strike with precision. Without it, even a well made blade is unusable. So then, I suggest, 'Tang.'"

He turned to look back at Vanessa, his brown eyes moist. She found her own eye was stinging. She nodded.

"Tang," she agreed. Her voice was soft, but the room had become very quiet.

Then the aviators cheered back, "Tang! Tang! Tang!" May pumped her fist as she joined in.

"Excellent!" Petrovich shouted. He clapped once. "Then let us drink to the newest members of the Armor Seven air group."

A long line of enlisted crew entered from the food preparation area, carrying trays heavily laden with full cups, and spread out to serve the officers. A distinctive citrus aroma reached Vanessa. She shook her head and smiled crookedly as she took the offered cup of Tang.

"Commander Leeds, would you be so kind as to share a few words?" Petrovich prompted.

Vanessa looked out at the faces. Some of them had become familiar, but they were all different from the sullen, resentful faces that had looked back at her a few days ago.

"I'm actually not much for speeches," she began. Her voice felt weak to her at first, but it strengthened as she continued. "But I think you need to know how important your efforts are. For some of you, it may seem like you are unappreciated, and that all your hard work, risk, and sacrifice doesn't matter. But you're wrong. Our world is still changing, and your lives will change with it. Some of you will join the expeditionary force and seek a path for humanity among the stars. Some of you will join the Army of the Southern Cross, and defend our fragile home. There will be many new faces among our ranks soon, but you are both the past and future of the U.N. Spacy, and you have among you some of the best that the old world has to offer. Thank you for welcoming May and me as a part of your crew. I ask that you offer that same welcome to our fellow trainees, so that they can benefit from your knowledge and experience and forge that future together."

She raised her cup.

"To Armor Seven!"

Petrovich raised his cup. "To Hazard and Tang!"

"Hazard and Tang!" the crew replied wholeheartedly. Vanessa drank deeply with the rest of the crew, then swayed, feeling lightheaded. Petrovich had clearly authorized something extra in all the drinks. The crew broke up into loud conversations, and May leaned in close.

"For someone who says she doesn't like speeches, you give them really well," she said saucily. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were already taking on a pink tone. Vanessa rolled her eye.

"I don't like them. I'm just glad we're done with having to prove ourselves and trying to fit in."

"Look out, Hazard! Storm One has changed vectors and is coming around for another try. Break right and deploy countermeasures!"

"Aye, aye, Tang! Increasing thrust!"

Vanessa watched the monitor tensely, tracking the movements of May's veritech, while a group of their fellow trainees crowded close around her. The pilots of Stormblade Squadron clustered a few feet away at the next monitoring station. Vanessa had no time to look back over her shoulder, but could imagine Millard Johnson, Commander Koyana, and Captain Petrovich gathered a short distance behind them, trying to cover their own interest behind a facade of professional detachment. To Vanessa and May's surprise, Petrovich had insisted that the competition go forward at the end of the month.

"The crew are more eager than ever to test themselves against your unit. I am sure there is no question who it is they want to face."

And so, one of the Stormblades was now flying against May, and Vanessa was doing her best to help her friend triumph.

"Countermeasures deployed! Going to guardian!" May reported excitedly.

"No, Hazard, wait!" Vanessa warned her, but it was too late. May easily evaded the incoming missile volley, with the shift to guardian and the deployment of retro thrusters. She then prepared to turn the tables on her attacker, but the more experienced pilot had anticipated her move. Storm One had shifted to guardian and slowed right after launching missiles, then rolled in a zero-G somersault and passed right over May's cockpit. Dummy rounds from his gun pod burst in a rainbow array all over the newly painted yellow and black Valkyrie May flew, and she groaned in frustration.

"VF-One-one-three is destroyed. The operation is complete. All craft return to Armor Seven," the supervising officer announced, to cheers from the Stormblades officers and more subdued clapping from Vanessa and her teammates.

"Sorry," May said in Vanessa's headset.

"Don't worry about it," Vanessa told her. "You fought well. Come on back."

"Aye, Commander."

Vanessa put away her headset and joined the other senior officers.

"An impressive showing, even if she was defeated," Johnson noted.

"If only we could get her another hundred or so hours in the cockpit," Commander Koyana lamented. "Are you sure we can't keep her?" she asked Captain Petrovich.

"What can you do? High Command has their own plans… and their favorites."

After spending almost a month on Armor Seven, Vanessa felt like she knew Petrovich well enough to speak up.

"Sir, I thought you'd changed your mind about the Command Track program?"

"I changed my mind about you, and May, and your fellow officers. It doesn't mean I don't think the whole thing is wrong-headed."

"Command decided that the leading edge of the Pioneer Mission needed officers who were experienced fighting and working alongside the Zentraedi. That doesn't mean that there are no places for the crew of Armor Seven." Vanessa said. "I've seen the projections - hundreds of new warships, and many thousands of veritechs in the new fleet. Every trained officer is going to be needed."

"Perhaps," Petrovich said with a shrug. "We shall see in the coming year just how sound a policy it is, won't we? For what it's worth, you trainees would be welcome here."

"Thank you. I'd be glad to serve alongside any of you."

The room emptied, leaving Vanessa and Millard alone.

"You've worked more closely with us than anyone, sir. Do you still have misgivings?"

Millard watched May's progress on the monitor for a moment.

"I do. The kind of experience you need can't be gained in a few months. May's defeat out there proved it. It wasn't her talent or effort that was lacking."

"We were chosen for our experience."

"Your knowledge is incomplete."

"That can't be helped. There aren't enough qualified people. That's the whole point of the program. We didn't have enough trained people during the war either," Vanessa pointed out.

"We both watched pilots die in droves because they weren't prepared."

"And there could be another war at any time. We don't know enough about what the Masters are still capable of. We have to get out there," she said, gesturing at the stars. "We have to prevent another war if we can, or at least keep it from taking place on Earth again."

"If High Command is mistaken, you and your crew will be the first to suffer."

Vanesss nodded. "I know. I didn't ask for the responsibility, but I've accepted it."

Millard pursed his lips. "Then I wish you well. Go meet your pilot. No doubt she's taking her loss harder than she needs to."

Vanessa was very glad for the chance to finally sleep. The evening was supposed to be free, but she and May had talked for quite a long time while reviewing the combat footage, before returning to their bunks. Their shuttle back to the Factory Satellite would leave the next day. She was dead asleep and woke up disoriented when the com panel on the bulkhead buzzed demandingly. May rolled over and slurred a question that she couldn't understand. Vanessa fumbled in the dark and grabbed the handset.

"Hello? I mean, this is Lt. Commander Leeds." she corrected herself, trying to clear away her drowsiness.

"Hi, Vanessa!" a familiar voice said brightly.

Vanessa stared at the handset before responding. "Who is this?"

"It's me!" the woman answered, surprised not to be recognized. When Vanessa didn't respond, she made a sound of good-natured exasperation. "It's Minmei!"

"That's impossible," Vanessa assured her, even though it did sound like Minmei.

"Why are you being so silly?" Minmei demanded.

"How in the world could you get connected to me up here?"

"Oh! Well, I called the administrative office at New Malmstrom and explained who I was. They said that they couldn't authorize me to be connected to Armor Seven, but that they would connect me to the ground side communications uplink so I could ask them."

"Ok."

"And they said that they couldn't authorize it either but they would forward me to the Orbital Operations Center on the Factory Satellite, to see if they could help me."

"I see."

"So," Minmei went on cheerfully, "I talked to a very nice captain there who said she wasn't allowed to set up a direct connection to you, but she would link me to the comms officer on Armor Seven."

"And he put you right through, did he?"

"Well, not until he gave me an address where I could send him an autographed print of the new poster for 'A Far Away Shore.'"

"Ah."

"And here I am!"

Vanessa smiled tolerantly. She hadn't been able to talk to Bron directly for a week, and Minmei had breezed her way right in.

"So what's the occasion?" she asked.

"Well, I wanted to know how your training was going. Bron told me a little bit while we were at lunch the other day."

Bron had mentioned that Minmei had started to invite him, along with Rico and Konda, to lunch nearly every week, as well as some of her rehearsals, much to their surprise. They had been sure that the night at Club Minuet was a one time impulse on her part.

"It's going well," Vanessa said noncommittally. The incident with the Lightning was classified, like the veritech itself. "I'll be leaving for the Factory Satellite in the morning."

"That's fantastic! I'm sure you're going to do very well!"

Vanessa glanced at the blue glow of the chronometer. There were only a couple of hours left to sleep. "Minmei, I don't mean to be rude, but what is it you were calling about?"

"Oh, well, I had a question for you," Minmei explained, her flow of conversation finally broken. "You see, I'm coming up to the Factory Satellite in three weeks and-"

"You're what?" Vanessa cried out in disbelief, and May murmured an unintelligible protest.

"Coming to the Factory Satellite!" Minmei repeated. "I'll be starting my 'Orbit' tour, and I was hoping you would be back there by then. I had an idea that could be a lot of fun. How about a photo shoot?"

Vanessa rubbed at her temple, trying to decide if she was really awake. "A photo shoot. On the Factory Satellite."

"Yes! Remember that recruiting drive on the SDF-1, after the Miss Macross Pageant? It'll be an homage to that one, to inspire people to enlist for the Pioneer Mission."

"And you want me to…"

"Be in the photo shoot!"

"Minmei, I can't do that!" Vanessa exclaimed, reflexively cringing at the idea.

"Why not?" Minmei pouted.

"First, I'm in the most stressful and demanding training program of my career," Vanessa said, feeling a little exasperated herself, "I don't have time."

"Well that's no problem. The UEG gave me its full backing, and said I can use whoever I want! I'll take care of everything."

Vanessa frowned. "Second, I'm not a performer or a model. I'm not the right person."

"Oh, you'll do fine, Vanessa!" Minmei assured her easily. "You're very pretty, and you're famous. You're a perfect person to represent the armed forces. We'll make sure you look great!"

It took Vanessa a moment to reply. "But… I'm injured."

"You are? I'm so sorry! You should have said something! Will you be ok? Was it a training accident?"

"No, no, I mean… from before." It was difficult for her to say. Vanessa had largely made peace with her injuries, and the acceptance of Bron and her friends had been a huge help. She was under no illusions about how fortunate she was in receiving her cybernetics. But this was a different situation.

"Oh! Well lots of people are injured, Vanessa. Why should they be left out of projects like this? Don't you think it would mean something to soldiers and civilians who have had similar experiences to see you this way?"

Vanessa gripped the handset tighter. Her sense of duty was pulling at her again. She had never been as deeply focused as Lisa in that regard, but Minmei was right, wasn't she?

"Minmei," she said, still feeling confused, "why are you asking me to do this?"

"Because you would do well, and you're my friend! It'll be so much fun!"

Vanessa paused. Were they friends, after one night spent together at Club Minuet, and a handful of other brief encounters? Certainly Minmei had proven herself a good friend to Bron and the others, and had been sincere toward Vanessa. Then she asked a question she would probably have kept to herself if she weren't so drowsy. "You don't have very many friends, do you?"

"Whaaat? I'm famous! People love me!" Minmei sounded shocked and hurt. Vanessa pushed her fingers through her hair, realizing how awful that question must have sounded.

"I'm sorry Minmei, that's not really what I mean. Of course they do. What I mean is, your life hasn't let you have very many close friendships since you became a celebrity, right?"

"Oh." Minmei was quiet as she thought it over. "I guess that might be true. There were… reasons that it was hard to find time to be with my family or make friends," she said guardedly.

"But that's changed?"

"Yes!"

It was going to be complicated to do what Minmei was asking, both because of her training and because she expected Lisa and Rick would both be on the Factory Satellite soon. But Vanessa's thoughts returned to how important Minmei was to Bron, Rico, and Konda, and to many others. She thought of how kind Minmei had been towards her, and how hard Minmei seemed to be working to include more people in her life and to change it for the better.

"Ok, I'll do it."

"Oh, thank you Vanessa! I promise you'll love it! I'll see you in a few weeks. Bye!"

"Bye." She replaced the handset.

"Who-was-at?" May slurred sleepily.

"Sleep, May. You wouldn't believe me."

Next time... Interlude III: Epistolary Romance...