Converge Chapter 6

Breetai eased Straza and Vanessa's crippled battlepod into the cargo compartment of his accompanying shuttle, a Zentraedi craft with the proportions of a plump goldfish. The shuttle had emerged from where it had been hidden, on the far side of the destroyed cruiser's hulk. It was well escorted by eight Glaug battlepods piloted by elite officers from Breetai's senior staff. The inhuman legs, forward-sloped armor, dorsal cannon, and slab-sided, dual-stacked weapon mounts in the arms gave them the appearance of some murderous hybrid of a shark and a bipedal land crab.

To Vanessa's great relief, Straza began reviving while the cargo compartment was repressurizing. By the time the pressure was equalized, Straza had her helmet off and was roughly wrapping a bandage thicker than a heavy towel around her head injury.

"Straza, we need to get you medical attention! You could have a serious concussion!"

She did not seem to be going into shock. She was somewhat pale, but so was Vanessa, after their battle. Her motions were steady, and her eyes were focusing properly, but the amount of blood matting Straza's cascading wave of purple hair alarmed Vanessa.

"No, Commander. This mission is far too important. I will be alright." She kept her tone respectful, but there was a stubborn set to Straza's jaw, and the hard glint in her jade eyes spoke to her opposition to the idea of being sidelined.

"But we've made it," Vanessa told her. "There's no need for you to push yourself any harder."

"Please, Commander. I need to be here for this. You're right about how much is at stake. I need to have my voice heard."

Vanessa frowned, remembering Straza's words before they took off from the Sal-Dezir. The conference she was about to have with Breetai might decide the fate of Manhattan and York, and so much more besides. It was a discussion that had to happen, but did she have the right to take it all on herself alone? How often had Breetai ever consulted discharged Zentraedi, either in Earth society, or among those who enlisted in the Earth forces? It had been more than two years since Breetai last left the flagship.

"You're right, Straza. Just, please be careful about your injury. Can you give me a hand out of here?"

"Of course."

Vanessa could see the gratitude in Straza's eyes, before the woman lifted her back to the bandolier's pouch and climbed out of the battlepod. There was a micronian scaled catwalk that had been retrofitted to the bulkhead at chest level, connecting to the shuttle's interior airlock, and Straza deposited her there. Vanessa wrapped both her hands around the railing, grateful for the support.

From the catwalk, she could finally see the damage done to their battlepod, and winced. The blue and white machine was blackened and blistered across half of its surface. The main hull canted at an angle where it rested in the center of the bay, its left leg sprawled crookedly behind it, the other reduced to a stump close to where it joined the main body. Unknown fluids, dark and viscous, dripped from the severed ends of wires, ruined motive components, and torn artificial musculature, forming an evil looking pool that was slowly spreading across the green deck plates. Vanessa swallowed and looked away. How short a time it had been, since she had climbed from May's Valkyrie trainer, just as badly battered.

Breetai was unsealing his armor, pushing aside the torso panels, and climbing to the deck, which shook under his feet. The commander of the Allied Zentraedi Fleet was a true colossus, and the simple gray flight suit, black harness, and gold visored helmet he was clad in only emphasized his great size. He was reputed to be the tallest Zentraedi alive, with the passing of Supreme Commander Dolza, and even Straza, her physique enhanced by the bulk of her combat armor, had to look up to meet the eye of her former leader. He removed his helmet, tucking it under one arm.

"My Lord Breetai!" Straza exclaimed, and saluted in Zentraedi fashion, clenched fist over left breast.

"Commander Pentiet." Breetai returned the salute, and inclined his head. "It is well that you were not seriously injured. Do you require medical attention?" His voice carried a strength, a power and authority like no one else Vanessa had ever heard before. It was like the rumble of an approaching summer storm. It was the voice of a god of war.

Vanessa held her tongue as Straza shook her head, visibly suppressing a pained grimace, and answered. "I am fully functional, my lord."

Breetai grunted, "Good," and placed his helmet back inside his powered armor suit. "Time is short, but there is another who should be present for this meeting."

"Here, my lord!" A little man had appeared, out of breath, close by Vanessa on the catwalk. "Forgive my tardiness. It is some distance from the shuttle's cockpit for someone of my, er, reduced stature."

Vanessa had met Breetai's trusted advisor, Minister Exedore, many times since the first cease-fire between the SDF-1 and Breetai's fleet. Indeed, for a time, he had become almost as close a confidant to Admiral Gloval. Exedore was not free with his feelings, but Vanessa guessed that he harbored his own grief at the death of Admiral Gloval. Since the destruction of the SDF-1, he had spent more time at his lord's side and on the Factory Satellite, with only occasional visits to New Malmstrom air base, but he remained micronized, and continued to wear a UN Spacy uniform. The uniform was a gray several tones lighter than the gray of his skin, with gold piping. Its blue collar contrasted sharply with his strikingly red hair. His shoulders were crooked, and he had slightly bulging eyes of mismatched size, above a strong, sharp nose and bony chin. Vanessa thought he looked like a wise hermit from one of the stories she had enjoyed growing up. She knew him to be a man of deep loyalties, and firmly held convictions, pragmatic, and yet thoughtful, loving knowledge, and ready to share it for the benefit of others. A good companion for Breetai, the consummate warrior and leader.

"Thank you, Exedore," Breetai said. He turned and fixed his gaze on Vanessa, who stood to attention and saluted. Breetai returned the salute gravely. "Now, Commander Leeds, you arranged this mysterious meeting. The responsibility is yours. What is the meaning of this attack on my forces?"

Vanessa nodded. The situation was too serious for her to find any time to be nervous under his questioning. "I accept full responsibility, Admiral Breetai," she said in Zentraedi, then continued in English. "On the way to this rendezvous, we were intercepted by three hostile Valkyries operating under false IFF codes." She swallowed. "They intended to kill me and the Lieutenant. They opened fire when we attempted to evade them. When we could not escape, I ordered Lieutenant Pentiet to defend us. She shot down two of them, and you saved us from the last."

"I see," Breetai growled, his expression thunderous.

"You say they used false IFF codes," Exedore spoke up next to Vanessa. "Do you have any idea as to the true identity of these attackers?"

"I cannot verify who they were," Vanessa answered. "They had factory issued veritechs with outdated Robotech Defense Force ID's. Unless they had an unknown support craft, they originated from the Factory Satellite. I suspect them to be agents of York, or at the least sympathetic to York, and bent on preventing the Zentraedi fleet from interfering in the Manhattan Crisis."

"And yet I have announced no intention to intervene in Manhattan," Breetai noted. "It is you, Commander Leeds, who requested a meeting regarding 'urgent matters on Earth.'"

Vanessa's lips compressed into a thin line. She understood what he was saying. Her actions had further escalated the situation. But she did not flinch.

"The situation has reached a breaking point, sir. You are certainly aware that York's leaders have issued an ultimatum, and announced their intention to invade Manhattan tomorrow."

"I am."

"And are you aware that Captain Gotta is readying a strike against York's forces?"

Breetai's scowl deepened, if that was possible. "You are certain of this?"

"His preparations are unmistakable. The Sal-Dezir is on the highest level of alert, all mecha prepped for launch at a moment's notice, and running continuous training drills for atmospheric combat and combat against Earth mecha. His staff have been soliciting intelligence on targets within York's territory. The crew is openly speculating about when they expect the order to attack to be given, and the ship's officers have made no effort to curb the talk."

"And you may recall, my lord, the rumors coming from the Sal-Dezir that prompted my suggestion that the training unit be moved there in the first place," Exedore added.

Breetai looked deeply troubled. "It appears that I must visit the Sal-Dezir personally. If your charges are true, then I will replace him with a more trustworthy officer." He turned to Straza. "Commander Pentiet, will you accompany me to confront Captain Gotta, and take over his command, should it become necessary?"

Then Straza truly paled, but she lifted her chin, and answered, "I cannot, my lord."

"No?" Breetai seemed caught between indignation and astonishment.

"For two reasons. First, I am no longer an officer in the Zentraedi fleet. I am a lieutenant in the Robotech Expeditionary Force. Lieutenant Commander Leeds is my superior officer."

Breetai made a dismissive gesture. "You are Zentraedi. I know that you left us because you thought your prospects were poor, but now your loyalty and talent will be properly rewarded."

Straza shook her head slowly. "No. The Masters created me. Indoctrinated me. Used me. But I have sworn only one oath of service. To support and defend the Earth and its people, be they Terran or Zentraedi. And there is a second reason. Rather than remove Captain Gotta, we urge you to preempt his plans. It is time that the fleet should take action to defend our own. It is time to defend Manhattan."

Breetai's face was graven in stone. "That is an impossibility. Our interference is not wanted. Admiral Hayes has informed us as much."

Exedore nodded in agreement. "We have been warned that our involvement would incite great hostility against the fleet. I also understand that the Zentraedi on Earth may face similar repercussions should we act rashly."

Straza folded her arms. "The great Breetai fears to go into battle?"

Vanessa gulped at the expression that passed over the admiral's face, but he kept his temper in check. "I fear nothing. But I am a leader as well as a warrior. It is my responsibility to preserve the fleet."

"I am surprised at you both," Exedore told Vanessa and Straza. "Could you not face punishment for coming to us like this, for urging us to act against the UEG's policies?"

"We could," Vanessa agreed with a nod. "And if there are consequences, we will accept them, even as we defend our actions as necessary. I pledged to resign if the UEG fails to protect Manhattan, but I can't wait until it is too late to do anything, and neither should you. You talk of preserving the Zentraedi fleet and the tens of thousands who crew it, but what about preserving and safeguarding the millions more Zentraedi on Earth? They're already suffering. And York will invade. We can't be paralyzed into inaction because we fear how people will react. We know York intends to commit terrible crimes against the people of Manhattan."

"What concern is that of mine?" Breetai demanded. "The Zentraedi who left the fleet made their choice. Most of them have become micronians. Let Earth look after its own."

Vanessa drew back in surprise. This did not sound like the man who had declared a cease-fire and sent Exedore to the SDF-1, who had stretched out his hand to Admiral Gloval.

"Is that what you really believe? Then why did you order the cease-fire in the first place, when Dolza gave you a direct order to destroy the SDF-1? Why did you fight against your leader, and defend the Earth? I cannot believe it was just desperation."

Breetai scoffed and folded his arms. "What right do you have to ask me such a question, Survivor? You, who fought alongside my own flagship that day!"

"My lord," Exedore interrupted, his voice flat and toneless. "I have always served you faithfully, and advised you to the best of my ability. Never have I questioned your decisions or goals. Today, I would hear your answer."

Breetai looked disconcerted. He paused before speaking. "The Zentraedi on Earth… they are no longer mine to command. I endorsed the integration plan, at General Maistroff's urging, and now those on Earth must find their own way. I lead the last fleet of the Zentraedi. The fleet must come first. It is to the ships' crews that I am responsible. If Earth is attacked, I will gladly go into battle to defend it. But I will not risk the fleet over a war between feuding Earth states."

Straza took a step forward. "Risking the fleet is precisely what you must do. My lord, the fleet is dying. You know it is! How long does it have left?"

Breetai did not answer. But Exedore did. "Greater than ninety percent of the remaining capital ships will be inoperative within five years, unless they receive an extensive refit."

"Exedore!" Breetai called out in disbelief.

"We must deal in truths here, my lord," Exedore replied unflinchingly.

"There will be no refits," Vanessa said. "I've been part of the REF planning conferences. The Zentraedi ships are seen as inefficient compared to the new ship classes being designed, and as a liability for the mission to negotiate with the Masters. And there are many officers and politicians who will be happy to see the Zentreadi disarmed as the new fleet is built."

Breetai clenched his jaw, pain written across his features.

"Why will you not see the reality of what our people face?" Straza asked. "Why can you not let go?"

"Because," Breetai said heavily, "I brought our people to ruin. Billions of Zentraedi dead, because I bowed to the wishes of my soldiers, and defied Dolza. Because I heeded Admiral Gloval's words of peace and Minmei's songs."

"You regret doing so?"

"I can't. But… our honor, our pride and glory are fading away. I must hold on to what is left, hold to the memory of what the Zentraedi were, be the keeper of that legacy."

Straza frowned, and Vanessa knew that the woman disagreed. She had renounced what the Zentraedi had stood for when they served the Masters.

"Then maybe you are not too different from Captain Gotta after all, sir," Vanessa said sympathetically. "I believe he also knows the old Zentraedi way of life is disappearing, and was broken by the realization. I think he intends to die, on his own terms. He spoke to me of the dignity of death. He plans to oppose York, but only as an ending."

"Many might choose such an end, my lord, rather than to go on, as a people diminished," Exedore said.

"That's not good enough!" Straza cried in a loud, clear voice, slamming her armored fist backwards against the already dented hull of the Regult unit, her amethyst hair sweeping behind her. The pod's forward sensor lens cracked and shattered, ruby shards sparkling as they fell to the deck. Her jade eyes were bright, and a drop of blood had left a stark line down her freckled cheek. It was Exedore who had spoken, but it was Breetai who Straza directed her glare at.

Breetai stoically raised an eyebrow at the outburst. Vanessa had seen hints before of Straza's anger, resentment and bitterness. The rage at what she and her sisters had been created to be, and her shame at the atrocities she had taken part in. Vanessa had a dozen lines of argument prepared for Breetai, but couldn't remember any of them now. She just listened.

"What is the pride of the Zentraedi?" Straza demanded fiercely. "What is this honor and glory you speak of? Should we be proud of being efficient killers? Is there glory in being as expendable as a shell fired from a cannon? Where shall I find the honor in wreaking death and devastation to serve the ambitions of craven technocrats who I have never even seen, to build an empire I have no part in?"

Breetai's cheek twitched at her words, but Straza was not finished.

"We are war criminals, given a reprieve. We are victims, awakened from a nightmare, to find it was all real. We have a penance to serve, and a future to build. And you!" Straza pointed a forefinger at Breetai. "You abandoned us!"

There were tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, tears that she would never allow herself to actually shed.

"What true leadership have you shown us since the Rain of Death? Did you think only the Zentraedi on Earth felt confused and alone? I waited for years for you to give us direction, hope, and a new purpose, and you failed us!"

Straza's breathing came heavy after all that she had let loose. Her hands were balled fists inside armored gauntlets, and there was a sheen of sweat on her face. "What say you, oh 'mighty' Breetai?" she finally asked. They stared at one another as she caught her breath and straightened.

"It may be…" Breetai answered, his voice hollow with regret, "that you are right."

"My lord!" Exedore called out, his eyes wide, his voice uncharacteristically emotional.

"Exedore, old friend. Could you not have shown me the truth before today?"

"Forgive me, but I- my role is to serve and support you, not-" the diminutive man for once struggled with his words.

"You are too sentimental, my friend. And so, it would seem, am I." He turned his attention back to Straza. "What would you have me do? I have given up the right to command any of you who have gone to Earth."

Straza regarded him coolly now. "It is true. We have other leaders, who have risen because they were needed." At that, Vanessa thought of Bron, Rico, Konda, the members of the Monument city council, and others. "But you still have an obligation to us. The fleet is at an ending, but our life on Earth is still beginning. Lead the fleet into battle, one more time. For good. To defend, rather than conquer."

"There are many who will not welcome such an action," Breetai said. "The UEG will demand the fleet be decommissioned if we do this."

Vanessa had been thinking about that for a long time, and spoke up. "If you can accept that, instead of fighting it, you'll gain an advantage."

"What do you mean?" Breetai asked.

"Like it or not, admit it or not, until the new ship classes are built, the UEG is depending on the Zentraedi to protect Earth. Armor Seven and the three destroyers are not enough to defend the Solar System."

"So you are suggesting?"

"Launch an operation to relieve Manhattan, but at the same time, make an announcement that you are unilaterally disbanding the fleet afterwards. Instead of having to fight to keep it going, you'll force the UEG and United Earth Forces to scramble to negotiate an orderly process to decommission and disarm the ships, demobilize the crews, and keep the Factory Satellite running. You'll be able to dictate terms about settling the crews, reenlistment in the Earth forces for those who want it, and power sharing on the Factory Satellite. Probably even highly placed positions in the government or REF for you and Exedore."

"This seems to me a sound strategy, my lord," Exedore said at Breetai's questioning glance. "The details can be worked out later. As to the matter of Manhattan, our strength is far superior to York's. I would advise, to avoid accusations of excessive force and brutality, we commit a fairly small force to the defense of Manhattan."

"Indeed," Breetai agreed, rubbing his chin. "One of our warships is already at a heightened state of readiness, prepared for just such a mission. Commander Leeds, Lieutenant Pentiet, I have no authority over you, so I ask you, will you return to the Sal-Dezir and work with Captain Gotta to prepare our counter strike? One rogue warship would sow chaos, but with my blessing, and your presence, York could be stopped."

Vanessa nodded. "We will. And we'll coordinate with our own forces, if that becomes necessary."

"Our Regult is no longer capable of making such a journey," Straza reminded him.

"You can take this shuttle, and you will be given a strong escort. Exedore will travel with you, to advise you and keep contact with me. Does this course of action suit you, Lieutenant Pentiet?"

Straza nodded. "It is… a beginning."

Breetai left abruptly, saying he needed to start an investigation into why three Valkyries with false ID's attacked one of his battlepods, before the UN Spacy started its own investigation into why a Zentraedi craft destroyed three of their mecha. Vanessa declined Exedore's invitation to join him in the forward section of the shuttle. She would welcome the opportunity to speak with him later, but right now she felt exhausted, battered, and filthy. She also did not want to leave Straza behind. Well used now to being around Zentraedi giants, she stood aside and covered her ears while Straza unbuckled her body armor and tiredly discarded each section, letting them hit the dark green deck with an unholy clatter. Straza slid to the deck herself, wearing only her mauve undersuit, and leaned against the bulkhead. By an unspoken agreement, Straza laid her hand on the deck, forming a ladder with her open fingers, and Vanessa wearily climbed up to Straza's thigh, then sat down with her legs outstretched and her back supported by the woman's lean stomach. Straza's breathing jostled Vanessa somewhat, but it was at least a soft and warm place to rest. Her head was throbbing, and her hip and shoulder ached terribly from the strain she had put on them holding on to the instrument panel of the battlepod. She sighed and shut her eye.

Giant metal fingers grope for Vanessa.Blue-white fire washes across the Valkyries, and then they are gone. Depleted uranium rounds and burning orange energy beams are deflected inches from the battlepod. The last missile arcs in on its terminal course. Glowing spots in Vanessa's vision. Pain. Cold, sharp-edged metal pins her body. Oxygen bleeds away into the vacuum like a dying gasp. Straza is unconscious, the droplets of blood drifting inside her helmet like glistening rubies bigger than ripe apples. The Valkyrie, identical to hundreds of others she has seen, hoists its gun pod and aims. The weapon's muzzle is big enough to swallow her. Behind it, stenciled in white, the letters UN SPACY are clearly visible. The battloid's head bursts in a cloud of blue plasma, its torso glowing white, and its metal shoulders slouch from the heat of it. A few cinders and molten fragments from inside the burned out pilot's compartment scatter into the darkness and fade like a departing soul.

Vanessa's eye flew back open, and she covered her mouth. She took a deep breath through her nose, trying to calm herself. She now had new memories to add to the storehouse of horrors shut away in her mind. Bron, Lisa, May, and Doctor Grant were all far away, and she might be going right back into battle soon. She needed to deal with this. She hesitated. Was it fair to ask Straza? She knew today's combat had affected her. But maybe they could support each other.

"Straza?" she finally asked, working up her courage.

"Yes, Commander?"

Vanessa craned her neck. Straza's eyes were shut, but she opened them to meet Vanessa's gaze.

"Would it be ok if we talked about what happened earlier?"

"Do you feel I spoke out of turn to Lord Breetai?"

"No! I'm glad you shared those things with him," Vanessa quickly clarified. "He's been isolated on his flagship for too long. It was important that he heard you. Bron and the others revere him too much, I think, to say the whole truth to him. Thank you!"

Then Vanessa frowned, preparing herself to talk about what was really on her mind. "I mean, can we talk about the battle?"

Straza did not answer right away. When she spoke, her voice was neutral. "There is nothing to talk about. We encountered the enemy, and defeated them."

They intend to killus. Vanessa felt a stab of pain in her chest.

"They wore our uniform. They took the same oath we did. Flew our mecha."

"All true," Straza agreed. "But it's not the first time I have been forced to fight against my own."

Dolza's Global Assault.

"It must have been horrible."

Straza pursed her lips before answering. "It was. When the fighting started, I couldn't believe it. I thought it was a mistake. Even after the Rain of Death, I didn't really think the Grand Fleet would turn its guns on us next. I wasn't able to accept it, wasn't able to order my division to attack, until the beam that destroyed our mothership went over my head and tore it apart in a single strike. Then, the - the loyalists? - came on us in waves. I lost… tens of thousands. Nearly everyone I knew died."

Vanessa nodded sadly, having heard some of Straza's story before. But the pain of it was clearly raw again. Then Straza looked down at her, questioningly.

"Commander, the pilots of the Valkyries I shot down today? Were they the traitors, or are we?"

Vanessa was conflicted. She had no doubt about the evil York intended, and yet she and Straza had stretched, perhaps even stepped across, the boundaries of their authority. She needed these questions, to bring some order to the feelings of fear, betrayal, and anger that swirled within her.

"They meant to stop our mission. They flew under false identification, with the intention of covertly attacking and murdering us. There is no way I can believe they acted with the best interests of Earth or the UN Spacy in their hearts."

Straza continued to look down at Vanessa with an expression of disquiet.

"Are you sure? What if they didn't really know all of the details of the situation?"

Vanessa opened her mouth to answer, then stopped. Straza continued.

"I can't say I really understood what was happening when Lord Breetai ordered us into battle against the Grand Fleet. Not until much later. The Zentraedi I fought against… they knew even less."

Vanessa gingerly touched her bruised left temple, and looked back to Straza, answering slowly. "Maybe those pilots knew exactly what they were doing. Maybe they even participated in some of York's atrocities. Maybe they knew nothing. Or maybe they were told they needed to intercept a rogue battlepod planning a terrorist attack, like hundreds of Valkyrie pilots have since the war ended. Maybe they were loyal all along. We might find out eventually, and have to live with that knowledge. And we will, because today, York must be opposed."

"Maybe we will be imprisoned after this is over," Straza suggested.

"We might. We could be killed in battle before that happens. We can accept those risks, yes?"

Straza nodded. "For the right cause. It's why I joined the REF. Searching for that cause."

"Me too. I'm proud to have met you, Straza."

"And I, you. But soon, we'll be back with Captain Gotta. We should talk about what we are going to say to him, and plan for when we descend to Earth."

"Might have been easier if you had just let Admiral Breetai promote you in his place," Vanessa joked. But her expression quickly became serious again. Bron, I'll be with you soon.

Is this really happening? Bron wondered. Could it really have worked? He tried to keep his expression neutral as he regarded the five critically important officials and officers looking back at him from the multi-screen display. Only Mary Brennan was physically with him, just out of camera view in the small third floor office of City Hall, but he knew that in the seating area in the next room, President Abhram, Director Carstein, and Commander Ztren's executive officer were all anxiously awaiting the outcome of the teleconference.

The face of Milena Torres, Speaker of the UEG Assembly, occupied the centermost and largest monitor, as she coordinated the military response between the service branches. A woman of warm complexion and aquiline features, the Speaker's measured voice and stern, dark-eyed gaze commanded instant respect. Wearing dark green formal attire, her authority was in no way diminished by the presence of so many uniformed and decorated officers. Bron again felt like the odd member of the group.

"General Leonard, what is the status of the ground forces response?" Torres asked. "How soon can you have units within reach of Manhattan?"

The bald, thickly built man scowled out of the lower right monitor.

"We wouldn't be so out of position if you had allowed me to mobilize earlier."

Torres was unapologetic. "You know that was politically impossible before the Assembly's vote today. How long?"

"If the Spartas hover tanks were ready for deployment, less than twenty-four hours. But with destroids, even if I leave behind most of my logistical support units, the destroids will still have to be moved by rail to the terminal at Sunny Point in the Carolinas, then put aboard ocean transport, well-escorted, mind you, for shipment to the crisis area. Three days for the first destroid battalion to deploy, and more than a week if you want to put my full brigade in-theatre."

Bron couldn't help speaking up, even though Vanessa had warned him of Leonard's distrust of the Zentraedi.

"Excuse me, General, but if you don't have any air transport, what about using Zentraedi dropships? They can carry destroids as easily as battlepods."

Leonard appeared to bite off his immediate reply, and made the effort to answer Bron civilly.

"We've already decommissioned or demolished all the dropships within UEG controlled territory, Inspector General."

"And requesting transport from the Allied Fleet is obviously out of the question," Torres said with a nod, as if she had already expected everything Leonard had to report. "Move your forces. I'm not counting on them as the primary deterrent against York, but they will prove useful for keeping the peace, later. Colonel Edwards, what about the air assets?"

Colonel T.R. Edwards, who had been listening from the screen above Leonard's, commanded the 15th Tactical Air Force Wing. Bron remembered that he had gained a bit of notoriety as the man who reported Colonel Streight's conspiracy to General Maistroff, and set into motion the operation that foiled the coup the previous spring. He was a man of strong presence and forbidding demeanor, having somehow survived the destruction of the massive Grand Cannon complex at Alaska Base during the Rain of Death. Survived, but not unscathed. A square jaw and bright shock of blond hair stood out against the dark metallic plate covering the disfigured right half of his face. Some called him 'The Little Breetai,' but never to his face, not after seeing the cold calculation in his single blue eye.

"I won't be able to put the whole wing into position over the No-Fly Zone. The Persephone can't carry any additional veritechs, and even if my Valkyries don't need a runway, they're going to need rearming and maintenance. There are no friendly facilities that can support them within nine hundred kilometers of Manhattan. Between flight time, resupply, and resting my pilots, I can only keep one squadron at a time over Manhattan right now. Send in the UN Army Engineers, and enough destroids for ground security, and you can have my Ghosts operating out of a forward base in a week."

"What about Skull Squadron?" Bron asked, frustrated to hear the same answer again. "Surely they're not going to be held back just because they're from the UN Spacy?"

Admiral Hayes shook her head on the upper left monitor.

"This crisis couldn't have come at a worse time. We're spread thin everywhere. The Skull and its supporting squadrons are still overseeing the disarmament of the warlords in the Southlands. If they're pulled out now, it'll threaten the peace agreement and ruin the UEG's credibility."

"But there are hundreds of veritechs in orbit," Bron said. "There's a whole fighter wing just on Armor Seven, right?"

"They'd have the same problem as Colonel Edwards's Ghosts, only worse," Lisa explained. "Once they're in Earth's atmosphere, they'll need boosters and vertical launch cradles to reach orbit again and return to Armor Seven or the Factory Satellite."

"In a year, York wouldn't dare defy us," Leonard growled. "We'll have double the ground units, the new hover tanks, and multiple battlegroups in the space forces. But how much of a threat can F-16's, Centaurs, and conventional infantry and artillery be to even a handful of Valkyries and destroids?"

"Precisely," Torres agreed. "Captain Kekoa, can the Persephone's battlegroup enforce the No-Fly Zone and hold the line until relief arrives?"

The captain answered from the screen below Lisa's. A man of Pacific island ancestry, and still physically fit, well into his forties, he was not as bellicose as his colleague from the UN Army.

"We'll safeguard Manhattan's independence to the best of our ability, but nothing is certain in battle, Madame Speaker. York's leaders would not have taken things this far if they did not think that they had the advantage. You know they'll lose considerable face if they don't follow through on their ultimatum."

"Manhattan isn't going to give in to York's demands, Captain, not once we announce the No-Fly Zone and you land your destroids on Rockaway Peninsula," Bron assured him.

"You'll have a squadron from the 15th Wing by morning, additional destroids within three days, and heavier support in a week, Captain," Torres said. "Is the situation in orbit still stable, Admiral Hayes?"

Lisa nodded, though she looked uncomfortable. "I have one of my best officers with the Allied Zentraedi Fleet right now. She's visiting Admiral Breetai, and I expect to have her report in a few hours."

"Don't you think some of your officers might be a little too cozy with the Zentraedi, Admiral?" Leonard asked with a smirk. Bron felt his face redden.

Lisa glared back. "Lieutenant Commander Leeds is an officer whose judgement and service is beyond doubt, General. Truth be told, I think that better cooperation with the Zentraedi Fleet could only help us in resolving this conflict. There are tens of thousands of Zentraedi in Manhattan, after all."

"I disagree," Colonel Edwards joined in coolly. "The Zentraedi are an unpredictable element. The more players involved, the more opportunities for something to go wrong."

Torres stepped in and closed the discussion. "I don't completely agree with your reasoning, Colonel, but for now, things will look better to the independent factions if the Zentraedi troops stay in orbit and keep to themselves. Inspector General, is the contingency still in place?"

Bron nodded. "If York's forces breach Manhattan's defenses, the evacuation boats will be launched under cover of smoke, and make for the Persephone's battlegroup."

"And draw considerable attention from the attackers, if they do," Torres said. "Let us all pray that our strong show of resolve will cause York to back down. One week, Captain Kekoa. Then we'll have enough military strength in position that York's ambitions on the east coast will be completely dashed."

"My flyers and the Marines will be ready, Madame Speaker."

"Good. I'll expect regular reports from all of you. Inspector General, I would like to speak to you for a moment longer. Thank you, everyone."

With respectful nods, each officer disconnected, and their screens dissolved back to the heraldry of their service branches, leaving Bron with only the Speaker of the UEG Assembly.

The Speaker regarded Bron silently for a moment, a bland smile on her face. Bron swallowed nervously, and his eyes briefly went to Mary, who was sitting very still. Mary lifted her chin in acknowledgement, but he saw that she was pale.

"That was a very inspiring interview you gave this afternoon, Inspector Nantes," Torres began, startling Bron. "And Aria Stockton is a gifted reporter. I found her footage of the children, and that Zentraedi mother - Madni, was it?- particularly moving. I'll confess I almost cried."

"They're-" Bron cleared his throat and tried again. "They're good people, who deserve our protection."

"Of course they do," Torres agreed. "Your official report made that clear to me. I was working very hard with Mister Bromco to secure the votes we needed to establish the No-Fly Zone."

"Bromco… you mean Konda?"

"Yes. I think we were making good progress. Of course, the show you put on this afternoon sidestepped all of that. The last time I saw politicians change their tune so quickly was after Streight's coup fell apart." Torres's smile broadened, but there were teeth behind it.

"I had to help them," Bron said.

"You were helping them, Inspector, as part of my team. Now… do you understand what you've done?"

"Well, I-"

"You have done further damage to this government's standing globally. The shift in public opinion has made the UEG's previous position look cowardly and ineffectual. Which, perhaps it was," Torres admitted, waving off Bron's protest. "But you know very well it reflected real public sentiment. Now the representatives who were forced to change their votes are angry and embarrassed. They'll be looking for someone to blame for the fact we're having to cobble together an eleventh hour rescue. It's not unlikely I'll be facing a vote for my own removal soon."

"I'm sorry," Bron said. He did regret the difficult position he had put Milena Torres in. He was grateful for the chance she had given him, but he wasn't prepared to say that what he had done was a mistake.

"There are consequences to every action, Inspector. I genuinely admire what you've accomplished in one year, but I am the Speaker of the Assembly, and the Assembly represents the people of our United Earth. I can't have officials I appointed going around me. I expect this crisis to be resolved before the end of the month. After that, your services as Inspector General and Special Representative for the Ministry of Zentraedi Affairs will no longer be required. The same goes for your liaison as well."

Bron's eyes again darted to the side, where Mary remained silent and still.

"Miss Brennan had nothing to do with this! I sent her away to consult with the city administration while I did the interview."

"Her job is to be your handler and make sure you act within the policies and protocols of the UEG when interacting with the press! If she can't do that, she can't continue with the Ministry. Mister Dosel is also under scrutiny for inflammatory statements he has made on the record."

Rico too? Bron reeled. "Please, Madame Speaker, I'm the one who's responsible! Don't punish them."

"It's not about punishment, Inspector. It's about accountability. There is nothing further to discuss right now. Get some sleep tonight. The No-Fly Zone will be established at six AM tomorrow, well before the deadline for York's ultimatum. Keep me updated regularly about what's happening in Manhattan. This will all be over soon."

The screens went black, and Bron turned in his seat, his face ashen.

"I'm- I'm sorry, Mary! I never meant to get you and Rico into trouble!"

Mary approached and knelt in front of Bron's chair, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking into his eyes with a serious expression.

"I've told you before. When it comes to politics, everything has a cost. Saving the people in this city is worth it."

"But you and Rico, your job…"

Mary gently let her arms drop to her sides, and gave him a lopsided smile.

"Bron, I love the three of you, but the truth is, I hate my job at the Ministry. You never needed 'handlers'. It's offensive, treating you like you're spies, or children. You're leaders, who deserve proper staff, resources, and support. Don't worry about Rico and me. We'd already been talking over what we're going to do next, what with us informing the Director about our relationship. We'll be ok. And don't imagine for a moment that you're going to go back to being a private citizen so easily either."

"Really?" Bron asked, feeling a little bit encouraged.

"Really," Mary said, giving him a quick hug and standing. "Focus on the present, for now. It's not over yet. I know the kind of thugs and gangsters running York. Captain Kekoa is right, that lot wouldn't stick their necks out if they didn't have a plan for in case the UEG finally grew a backbone. Take a moment and pull yourself together. President Abhram and the others are still waiting out there."

"Right. Thank you, Mary."

"You're welcome, Inspector General," she replied, her trademark cat-like grin back in place, and left the room.

Bron wiped sweat from his brow. I hope Torres is right, and this will all be over soon. I'm so glad you're still safe, in orbit, Vee.

Next week… Interlude V: Persephone's Wake…