Miriya woke up to the phone ringing. Blasted Micronian inventions… "Sterling residence," She groaned as clearly as she could, with the transmitter identifier she had been assigned.

What she considered incomprehensible was apparently only a mere garble to an untrained Micronian. "Uh, hi, miss? This is Joe's Bar. We've got a Dana Sterling here. She says she can't hail a ride and told us to call you as her emergency contact…"

There was a muffled noise in the background. "...and I'll tell you when I've had enough to drink! And another thing–!"

Miriya sat bolt upright. "What's her status?" She asked as if still wearing her Queadluun-Rau armor.

"Uh… she's alright, she's just… being belligerent." There was a muffled crash. "...Alright she's beaten up a few customers. They started it, to be fair. But would you mind picking her up before someone calls the cops?"

"I'm on my way. ETA twenty minutes. Sterling residence out." Miriya jumped out of bed and grabbed her jacket. She always slept with her clothes ready for action. She quickly hailed an automatic cab.

Twenty minutes later, Miriya pushed open the bar door. Dana Sterling, the former hovertank pilot from another timeline, was slumped at the bar, wearing her old 15th Tactical uniform. Several men and women, patrons of the bar, Miriya assumed, stood about with bruises. Broken furniture lay on the floor. One man was being tended to by his friends. The bartender stood behind the bar with a very stiff posture.

At the sight of the Zentraedi soldier with a family resemblance, a few of the barflies quickly escaped past her. Miriya strode through the mess. She kicked aside a chair. As Miriya approached the bar, a bottle fell out of Dana's grip to the floor. "Dana?" She asked.

"Holy cats, nothing could get that bottle out of her hand!" The bartender muttered.

"Mph…mom?" The young woman mumbled. Her eyes cracked open. She sat up suddenly, and she slurred, "I mean– Miriya?" Her motion jostled her, nearly knocking her over.

Miriya caught her with the reflexes of a Zentraedi warrior. She sighed, "You've consumed too much alcohol again."

"Depends on your definition!"

Miriya rolled her eyes and hauled the young woman to her feet. The blonde smelled of liquor, and there was a light smell of vomit. Miriya dusted her off in disgust, "Why did you bring your uniform?"

Dana lifted her head and fingered one of the shoulder pads of her suit, "It's the only outfit I won't get stains on. There's already a bunch there, so," She belched, and let her head fall. "I don't mind it getting dirty."

"Well, this will never pass muster even in a male Zentraedi barracks. Come along, soldier," She pulled Dana along, then stopped, and turned to the bartender. "Will there be any trouble? If you must, send the bill to our phone address."

"Hey, thanks, miss," the owner said, sheepishly. "Don't tell anyone this, but I was hoping someone would get rid of those fellas." He tilted his head at the floor, "...Mind you, I was hoping it would be with fewer chairs. And I didn't expect it from a girl who weighs ninety pounds dripping wet!"

"Hey, I weigh a bit more than that!" Dana drawled out with a whine.

A Micronian idiom, Miriya suspected. "If there is nothing else, sir, I will remove her from the premises."

"I'll pretend I didn't see you folks. You alright to get home?"

Miriya nodded, "Of course. If she can handle them while intoxicated, I can deal with them unimpaired."

The bartender smirked, "Heh. I suppose so! I guess she takes after her mother, eh?"

Miriya blinked, "Of course." She lifted Dana into a one-person carry without any effort.

The owner blinked back, noting Miriya's strength. Then realization dawned, "Oh, I'm sorry! You're one of them," He pointed upwards. He glanced at Dana, "Well, tell your daughter we said goodnight, will you?"

Miriya thanked him and went outside. Only after the door had shut did she realize the implications of the bartender's words. She glanced at Dana, "You are an interesting asset, soldier. It confirms my hypothesis. Certain personality quirks you inherited from us are universal, regardless of our place of origin."

"I am my parent's children!" Dana practically squeaked. The bottle had made its way back to her hand and it was swishing about.

"Oh, you're conscious."

"Semi-conscious!" Dana tittered.

It was a short way to the car, but a long way dragging an overgrown infant hereabouts known as a drunkard. Miriya glanced at the hovertank officer. Dana's blonde hair was streaked with sweat. Her uniform didn't fit any contemporary fashion, even among the Micronians. It was a mixture of Zentraedi ingenuity and human style. Dana struggled in her grip. "Lemme down." Miriya did so. Dana straightened up, then slumped a bit.

"When did you expect to be home? I thought you would have returned from the base an hour ago," Miriya grunted.

Dana looked at her. There was a sad expression. Then it was gone. She chuckled. "You sound like Marie." She laughed. She stumbled toward the edge of the parking lot.

The bar was settled on a hillside, overlooking New Macross City. This time of night the urban terrain looked dazzling. The buildings stretched out to the hills in the distance, lit up for the evening, with the SDF-1 settled in the middle. On the right, Miriya could see the ocean. She had to admit that even a settlement built with the most minimal of space-war tactics was a bit more visually enticing than a Zentraedi one.

"She was one of your colleagues, was she not?" Miyira asked.

Dana took a swig of her liquor. "Yep! Well, rival for a while." She grinned, then trailed off. "I wonder where she is, now."

"Given the limitations of the bombardment, she is likely better off than she was in your timeline."

"Maybe it got her to work that stick out of her butt!" Dana laughed. She bent over and puked. Miriya jogged over, but Dana waved her off. "She was always grumpy." Dana sighed, "She's probably some cute kid over in New York."

Miriya reached out and grabbed her arm, "Of course, Dana." She felt a pang of sadness but forced it down.

As they walked back to the cab, Dana gestured around with the bottle and kept rambling. "All this used to be gone, you know? A few hundred million people survived because they were lucky. Bad guys didn't have the chance to finish their bombardment before the Grand Cannon fired…"

Dana, late at night, would often go off on such tangents. And always they would come back to her parents. The Zentraedi warrior shifted the weight of her charge, or her guardian, whichever day it was. She cursed her older alternate self. A warrior does not abandon her charges. And if I ever get my hands on that Max… Well, the version of Max here was an idiot. The other was stupid. Miriya grabbed the bottle dangling from Dana's hands and took a swig. Though trained to consider such possibilities, multiple timelines and the possibility of multiple selves drove her mad.

"...New York kinda survived, surprisingly, so did a bunch of other cities. Lots of the offshore ships, like the submersible carriers and all that. Earth's population was back down to what it was before 1900. How about that?" Dana chuckled. She hadn't noticed the bottle returned to her hands.

Miriya frowned. "It is an interesting point to discuss. However, it is all over now, Dana."

"Ah, let me keep talking. I used to do this before your old bosses showed up!" Dana laughed. "Gah, people called me a ditz. It's your fault, you know?"

"What is?" Miriya grunted, helping Dana over a particular pothole.

"For leaving me," Dana answered.

"Huh?" Miriya stopped and looked at her. But Dana's eyes were half-closed.

Miriya sighed, then dragged the ground pounder back to the parking lot. They reached the car, and Miriya hauled the woman inside. "Do we have any snacks?" Dana mumbled.

Miriya already had something, and Gatorade, just in case. The Veritech pilot ate the granola bar with gusto, chugged the Gatorade, and belched. "Can we have the AC on? Heh, like the AGACs… I get it…"

"Alright, soldier, that's enough…"

Dana looked at her. She gave that sad expression she always gave. "What? Did I stumble on another moment of your mother's?" Miriya asked bluntly.

Dana shrugged. "Any other mom would say 'dear', she'd say 'soldier'." She chuckled, then sniffled a bit.

The cab pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. It was a short route but gave a nice view of the city lights. They reflected off the bay. "It's funny seeing all this," Dana said. "I always wondered what Earth would've been like without the Zentraedi Holocaust. What the SDF-4 and five would've been like." She smiled a little, "I wonder if we could've beat the Masters or the Invid easy if it hadn't happened… all those resources… and the people! Of course…"

Miriya thought for a long moment. "Time is a river. As Zentraedi, we are used to the possibilities even a single second can pose. We must control the battle." Miriya paused to take the bottle out of Dana's hands. Nearly empty now. "Though things we have earned may be taken from us, we must be proactive as much as we are reactive. We must swim and adapt to overcome this river of ours."

Dana looked at her. Then at her feet. "I kinda hated you sometimes, mom."

Miyira looked at her, "Dana, I'm–"

Dana didn't seem to know where she was. "You left us all alone to go fight the bastards who showed up here anyway, but then you got stranded out there. Or so they say. Fighting the Invid. Then finally they came here and I had to go and meet you and you…" She trailed off.

Miriya grimaced. "Dana…"

"The one I've got here is nice. But sadder. Maybe cuz she doesn't have Dad, but is that for the better? Is it my fault?" Dana looked at the bottle and swirled its contents. She looked at the bay through the base of it. "Did I just do this? Dump a bunch of stuff in there? I suppose in a war there's always change."

"Yes. You said Ben Dixon died in an accident, not in direct combat. If I had not been the one responsible, perhaps Captain Sterling and I–"

"Eh. Who knows?" Dana suddenly got a mischievous look. "You know, I hear your little meet-cute back in 2011 wasn't very pleasant either. You threw a knife at him!"

"Sounds like me."

"Yeah, and some people said he took advantage of you because of our little 'rituals'," She made those curious Micronian air quotes, "But the version of you in this timeline, Mom, she punched him! I think that did more than that knife ever did."

"If you are suggesting that I would ever–"

"Ah, why am I telling you this, I–" Dana blinked, "Can't see straight. Mom, why?"

"Because you were drinking."

"I won't go out again, Mom, I promise." Dana hiccuped, then tilted her head and leaned against Miriya's shoulder, "You know, she likes him here too. He does too, but he doesn't want to admit it."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The same quirks that drew him to her still exist here. You should hear them fighting like an old married couple!"

"Like an old married couple?!" Miriya demanded indignantly. She had no idea what that meant but it sounded offensive. "Max Sterling refuses to acknowledge the realities of the situation!"

"Aw, you sound like dad!" Dana tittered.

Miriya blinked in shock. "I do?"

"Dad always– hic! – told me that you were all confused, and it was just love or something. That you wouldn't acknowledge the realities. You two are more alike than you think. The one here just can't get over Ben."

"Oh look. We are here!" Miriya observed, desperate to dive out of the conversation.

Miriya got out of the car, paid the automatic driver, and dragged Dana inside. Bowie was thankfully at a friend's house. He didn't have to see his guardian from the future in such a state. Miriya helped Dana out of her uniform. The fabric was more Zentraedi than Terran, built for combat. The softer fabrics of Dana's t-shirt and pajama pants were so much more human.

Dana finally gained enough sense to be roused again. Miriya helped her into bed and pulled the blankets over her. The woman quirked an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

Miriya blinked, "Making sure you are comfortable."

Dana opened one eye. "Hey… you know… dad was always the one who did this."

"Then it appears I was very negligent in another life," Miriya said softly.

Miriya Parina Sterling, you are in for a fierce beating. Perhaps a duel to the death. She suspected even her version of Max would agree. Miriya straightened up and looked at the girl only a little younger than herself. No matter what timeline you are in, we will share a connection.