Chapter 8

Steam rose from the glazed, cobalt blue ceramic cup and gently brushed Vanessa's face. She reached out with both hands and accepted the tea cup from her tactical officer, Duy Liem, holding it close to her chest and inhaling the strong floral aroma of the green tea. His quarters were quiet and orderly, a welcome refuge from the chaos and commotion of the last twenty-four hours.

"Thank you, Commander."

"You are welcome, Captain," Liem said with calm warmth. "Please, enjoy."

Vanessa looked down from her subordinate's soft features and gently swirled the contents of the cup. The liquid had taken on a lovely light green and iridescent yellow color. She took a careful sip of the hot beverage, and savored the complexity of the flavors, astringent, and yet possessing a deep sweetness. Vanessa breathed a pleased sigh. She had participated in other tea ceremonies, and had always found the experience to be special, but she could never seem to shake the anxiety that she would commit some kind of faux pas and unintentionally give offense to her host. The less ritualized Vietnamese tea ceremony that Liem shared with her actually made her feel relaxed. "The tea is very good."

"It is suitable. I would like to offer you jasmine or lotus tea, but the northern and central highlands of my home never recovered after the Rain of Death."

"It's hard to find proper tea anywhere these days, especially this far from Earth. Did you learn to brew tea from someone in your family?"

A small, wistful smile appeared on Liem's face. "No. My grandparents prepared tea, but I was uninterested as a youth. People my age thought tea was for the elderly and the refined. A missed opportunity." He took a sip of his own tea. "I made a point of learning the ceremony later. For purely selfish reasons, I might add."

"Oh?"

Mischief entered his brown eyes. "It gives me a reason to talk privately with people. I've found most of my crewmates won't refuse an invitation."

"You're one of my senior officers. You could always ask to talk to me."

"I could. But I think there is something to be said for a more peaceful atmosphere. You'll forgive me for observing that your thoughts have seemedâ disordered, since we debriefed our guests."

Vanessa wondered if she should feel manipulated. She drank from her cup again. The tea was very good. She shrugged.

"That may be true. We've been starved for information for years, searching wreckage and ruins for scraps of information, making inferences from what the Zentraedi could tell us about masters they had never met face to face, let alone the civilians of their society. And now hundreds of Tiresians have dropped into our laps, weapons blazing. Are they prisoners, asylum-seekers, critical intelligence assets, or potential allies? No one, from my officers, to Admiral Mbande and her staff, to the enlisted crew, seem to be able to agree."

"And what do you think they are?"

Vanessa inhaled deeply from the steam still rolling off of her cup, holding it in her lungs, thinking and then released her breath in a rush. "People."

"I'm not sure the REF headquarters staff would consider that a useful answer," Liem observed wryly.

"I think Admiral Hayes might understand what I mean. They need our help. And they could help us. They could become friends."

"You'd let them off the hook? They attacked us. They killed nine veritech pilots and four crew on the Piraeus." His tone was curious, not accusatory.

"Let them off the hook? No. I regret every loss, including the Zentraedi who died in that foolish attack. I'd expect the Tiresians to make amends," Vanessa said firmly. She thought about the stories the members of the delegation had shared during the hours long debriefing sessions. "But I can also sympathize with them. None of them were prepared for the extreme circumstances they were pushed into when the Empire collapsed. Ryche was a freighter captain, with no military background and no experience managing the needs of a ship full of starving and desperate refugees. Astoria used to be a jeweler, and discovered a talent for repairing and maintaining electronics so that their ship didn't fail around them. Divall, a historian, was terrified that his next work would be placed on the unapproved list, and that he'd be sent off for reindoctrination, like so many of his colleagues. Now he's a repository for what is left of their history and culture, and yet he doesn't even know how much of that history is real. Glana managed an automated manufacturing plant, and ended up having to run salvage and recovery operations to secure enough energy and parts to keep that ship moving and all of the passengers alive. Saris worked at an elder care facility, and is now responsible for the food distribution and health for all of those adults and scores of children, many of them orphans."

Vanessa finished her tea and stared into the dark swirl of leaves at the bottom of the cup. "They folded into this system on the last of their power reserves, and found the planet despoiled and the orbitals destroyed. And then they saw our fleet tender, full of supplies that could save them, right in front of them. I suppose I can't blame them for doing what they thought was necessary to save all of those lives, not if what they said about all the times they've been attacked, chased, abused, and exploited is true."

"Very forgiving of you," Liem said, his tone again neutral.

"Admiral Gloval once told us 'we must learn to forgive our enemies. Not out of weakness, but because we are a strong and willing nation.' Are the refugees so different from the Zentraedi who followed Dolza? Their entire lives were orchestrated by a pack of megalomaniacs. Would you really expect them to handle the crisis gracefully? Many of the survivors of the Rain of Death handled their situations no better."

"Hmm." Liem took up the tea pot and refilled her cup. "You didn't say anything about the bureaucrat."

"Kruz?" Vanessa felt like she'd bitten into a lemon at the mention of the insufferable man. She took a hasty sip, and scorched her tongue. "Ugh. A petty tyrant who thinks he's important because he served the Masters more directly. He assessed and oversaw the systematic plundering of planets to fill the coffers of the Masters, so that the citizens could in turn receive their rations of Protoculture."

"It seems like the standard of living wasn't so bad."

"That standard of living was built on murder and conquest. The Tiresians might not have experienced physical deprivation before the collapse, but they still had no say over their leadership and development. Comfortable slavery is still slavery."

"So you place the ultimate responsibility for all that has happened with the Masters."

"Of course," she answered without hesitation.

"Will that not make negotiating with them... awkward?"

Once again, doubt arose in Vanessa's thoughts. "I'm sure those negotiations will happen well above my level. My job is to make sure the REF actually finds them."

Liem nodded. "That is, indeed, our mission. Thank you, for sharing your thoughts. We face so many unknowns, that I find any clarity my commanding officers can provide to be a great comfort."

"Certainly," Vanessa said, forcing a smile, and blew on her tea before drinking more of it. But I'm not sure I have any clarity at all, she thought to herself. I want to hold the Masters accountable, don't I? Can I accept it, if we absolve them of responsibility for their crimes, in return for securing peace and safety for Earth?

{Thank you for accompanying me today, Saris,} Vanessa said, speaking loudly over the clamor of the busy launch bay. {My executive officer is working with Glana on plans to disarm your ship and decommission the fighters and battlepods, but she told me you were the best person to make sure that the supplies and assistance we are sending over will meet the physical needs of your crew and the refugees.}

{Not at all. We are short of everything, Your help is most welcome.}

The ageless woman was dressed in her conservative headcovering and gown, but her posture revealed her excitement. Vanessa regarded the waiting transport shuttle, and turned to Colonel Kravshera.

"Is your security detail ready, Colonel?"

"Yes, Captain, we can board at any time."

Vanessa swept her gaze over the assembled Marine troopers. There were two full squads, armored and loaded down with firepower, carrying everything short of crew-served heavy weapons.

"Your troops' loadout isn't very... discreet."

Kaden smiled rakishly. "I've never been accused of subtlety. Besides, if there are hundreds of Zentraedi on the ship, the passengers should be used to dangerous armed individuals roaming the corridors."

"True enough. It's just that we're still at a delicate stage with the refugees."

Kaden lifted his chin with an air of easy dismissiveness. "It's my job to make sure you stay safe, especially aboard a ship full of desperate strangers who were shooting at us only forty-eight hours ago. If you wanted a lighter touch, you could have asked me to choose one of my subordinates to head the security detail."

"I chose you because-" Vanessa paused and swallowed. "Because I trust you."

Kaden's jaw dropped, and then he broke into a grin. He gave a sardonic half bow, arm swept before him. "I assure you, Captain, that my Marines will win over our former adversaries through their innate charm, grace, and good humor. Isn't that right, Master Sergeant?" he asked the jowly veteran Marine at the head of the security team.

"A well-trained, well-led Marine will triumph in any situation, Captain!" the NCO told Vanessa with a humorless scowl. She shook her head and smiled in spite of herself.

"Thank you, Sergeant. I am much reassured."

{The ship is in better condition than I expected,} Vanessa observed as the gaggle of Marines and officers followed Saris through a well lit corridor that led from the medical section to the large lift that would carry them to the lower decks, where the passengers maintained their makeshift quarters.

{Appearances can be deceiving,} Glana said. {These ships are built to last. The hull and interior are sound, but the systemsâ Ryche and Astoria could explain the technical matters better, but put simply, with power reserves so low, and spare parts so hard to come by, many of the automated systems have failed one by one. We have to do our own maintenance, and improvised our own methods of recycling food, water, and waste.}

She gestured to the bare metal bulkheads of the corridor, which were a frankly revolting shade of pale green, and to the deck, which was a slightly less unsettling teal color under the ethereal blue lighting.

{Everything looks clean and organized because whenever we're traveling, most of the passengers have little else to do if they don't have technical skills. The rule is that you have to do some kind of job to receive your food ration. We can't have the ship looking like a wreck, or the people sitting idle, or we could have a complete breakdown of order.} She pointed up at the conduit overhanging their heads, a narrow strip parallel to the deck that was covered in a mosaic of black and gold panels. {But if you pried away some of those panels, you'd see the patchwork repairs that Astoria has been doing to keep the life support running.}

Vanessa nodded, impressed. She was well aware of the challenges of keeping good order aboard a military ship on a long deployment, let alone a civilian one packed with refugees. The crew of the SDF-1 had dealt with plenty of headaches caring for the needs of the Macross city survivors, and they had the advantage of much larger reserves of supplies, not to mention the presence of Minmei to keep up morale.

{Astoria and Ryche don't seem to get along very well.}

{They can't stand each other. Astoria all but led a mutiny a few months after the refugee shuttle she was traveling in was brought aboard. There were a lot of people who weren't satisfied with Ryche's choice of destinations and his handling of the passengers, and she actually got enough of the crew on her side to present him an ultimatum. Ryche may not be an ideal leader, but he's a good man. Instead of fighting, he and Astoria worked out the leadership structure we've been under for the last eight years. Destinations, long term planning, and distribution of work and supplies are handled by the council made up of Ryche, Astoria, Divall, Kruz, Glana, and myself. Ryche navigates the ship and has complete authority during an emergency. The arrangement works well enough, but Ryche still resents Astoria, and she doesn't trust him.}

Vanessa shook her head. And I thought I had command challenges.

They reached the entrance to the lift tube, a round chamber big enough to accommodate the entire party, and Kaden ordered a halt. As with every stop in their visit to the ship, he insisted on inspecting the area before allowing his captain to proceed. Vanessa turned her attention back to Saris and gave her a calculating look.

{I'd like to know what you haven't told me about what you found in the Omha system.}

Caught off guard, Saris blanched and jerked her head around to face Vanessa.

{What we haven't told you? How do you-?}

{All of your people are being evasive. I want to know why. We thought the Omha were a major threat in this sector. They killed over a hundred million people in this system alone. I need to know what really happened to them, and what danger we might be in.}

Saris pursed her lips. {We don't like to talk about it. Sort of an unspoken agreement we all made. It's too disturbing, even compared to the things we've seen since The Collapse.}

{Saris, my crew are on a vitally important mission, and we don't have the luxury of simply folding away from any threat we encounter. I really do need to know more.}

Kaden reappeared at the hatch and waved them all through. As they took their places on the roomy, featureless lift platform, Saris sighed.

{I'm not sure how to describe it,} she began, as the lift quietly descended, passing by smooth, almost organic looking interior bulkheads. {There were wrecked ships and space stations. A lot of them. Almost all from the Empire, except for a handful of Zentraedi ones. We couldn't tell if they were all from the same side, whether it was a proper battle or a massacre. Ryche said some of the damage matched typical beam weapons that he's familiar with. But most of the damageâ} she trailed off, then met Vanessa's eye, and she looked afraid. {Ripping, rending, tearing. Like an animal had shredded its way through the hull and wormed its way inside. So much violence. Far more than was needed to disable or destroy those ships.}

{Did your people find any wreckage from the mecha that did it?}

{Pieces, maybe. Something that looked like part of a metal claw. A claw bigger than a man's arm.}

Vanessa glanced at Kaden. {Does any of this sound familiar, Colonel?}

He shrugged. {It could potentially be any number of species the Zentraedi subjugated over the long history of the empire, most of which would now be extinct. But, no, not familiar to me. It'd be better if we had a physical sample to examine.}

Saris shook her head. {We weren't about to bring something like that aboard, or to risk boarding the hulks. But supplies were already low, and we still hoped to avoid leaving empty-handed. So we decided to send a shuttle down to the planet.}. Saris paused, closing her eyes and bowing her head as she touched two fingers to her forehead, her expression a grimace. The lift stopped, and Kaden led his faithful marines through the hatch.

{What did you find?} Vanessa prompted quietly. Saris reluctantly opened her eyes and raised her head.

{We all watched the transmission from the landing partyâ you understand, don't you, that none of us who have traveled aboard the Shalazar are strangers to death anymore? To bloodshed and atrocities? We've seen worlds burned, bombed, plundered, and stripped of life by famine or infection.}. Vanessa nodded, and Saris continued. {Everyone was dead, the surface devastated. We saw not one intact building, not one living person. But it was different. It was not done by bombs, or Reflex weapons, or viruses. It was personal. Physical. It was the savagery we had seen in orbit repeated on a planetary scale. And the planet was ruined too, but not by normal weapons. There were these great open shafts that had been bored into the surface - more than a dozen of them, each over a kilometer across and who knows how deep. Each one vomiting out blinding clouds of dust particles along with poisonous fumes from the planet's core. The whole biosphere was in a state of collapse, and the landmasses were shifting under the stress of almost constant earthquakes.}

Saris blew out a deep breath, as if trying to expel her memories with it. {We didn't even try to land. We recalled the shuttle and folded away to another system as soon as it docked.}

{Do you have any idea who did it?} Vanessa asked.

{No. Other places, we've seen desperation, barbarity and callous murder, but on Omha, we saw a savagery I've never encountered before. Hatred of a kind I can't imagine. Whoever did it is still out there, and I don't know if their actions were against the people of Omha specifically, or if they intend to bring that same brutality to every planet they visit.}

Vanessa said nothing. The admiral would need to be updated. Omha had been assessed as a major threat. Now it seemed, there was a far greater one lurking out there in the darkness between the stars. Kaden reappeared at the hatch.

{I'm satisfied. We may continue, Captain.}

{The first passenger bay is to the right,} Saris said, leading the way.

There was nothing particularly surprising about how the refugees were living. After ten years, they had done everything they could to be as well ordered and efficient as possible. Living quarters were built under hanging canopies or inside disassembled cargo containers with a drab, repeated hexagonal motif. There were great stacks of these that went all the way up the echoing cargo bay to the ceiling, where they were secured to overhead racks, so that even the vertical space was not wasted. Thousands of people were packed into the hold, but everything was kept scrupulously clean and well lit. Twice, Vanessa's party passed small teams of passengers wheeling along waste receptacles, visiting each enclosure and hunting for every last scrap of litter. Elsewhere, groups of children of all ages, supervised by teachers, were undergoing education at a small cluster of round monitors, battered, but still serviceable. Further along, about a hundred passengers were queuing up at a secondary bay door, overseen by a pair of uniformed crewmen.

{We eat in shifts, and food distribution is done in a neighboring bay,} Saris explained, {It's an extra layer of security against theft. Three years ago, food ran especially short, before we salvaged a hydroponic module from a derelict orbital platform. There was a riot that yearâ we took steps to make sure that was never repeated.}

Despite all of the organization, the activity and effort, the cleanliness, and security, Vanessa couldn't help but notice that everyone was tired, a weariness that went far deeper than physical fatigue. The passengers watched the progress of Vanessa and the Marines with a listless apathy, as if even the presence of armed intruders could not stir them. The children watched her with interest, not at all afraid of the strangers and their weapons, but readily snapped their attention back to their lessons at a sharp word from their instructor. There were far fewer youngsters than she would have expected.

These people are tired of surviving. Vanessa thought. Maybe they were tired even before their empire fell. Can we offer them a future that will allow them to truly live and thrive again? As she mused on these matters, the group completed its circuit of the bay and returned to the doors.

{We can discuss the specifics of what aid we can provide after the tour, but I can already see a number of ways the task force can provide assistance that will improve health and quality of life,} Vanessa said as the hatch shut behind them.

{Thank you,} Saris said, looking hopeful. {This will make such a difference to us. It's been an especially difficult year.}

{The Zentraedi are on this level too, yes?} Vanessa asked.

Saris hesitated, clearly caught off guard. {That's right. They have their own quarters, in a different bay, closer to the mecha.}

{I'd like to visit them now.}

Saris licked her lips, looking uncomfortable. {I'm not sure that's a good idea. They aren't prepared for your arrival.}

{I suppose there might be security issues with entering a hold full of Zentraedi who we just defeated in battle. If you're worried about such things, Captain,} Kaden offered noncommittally.

{I am not.}

{I could send word ahead while I show you the food services bay,} Saris suggested reluctantly.

Vanessa folded her arms. {No. I have serious misgivings about the Tiresians' treatment of the Zentraedi, and I want to see the conditions they're living under. Immediately.}

Something fleeting passed across Saris's expression, and then she composed herself again. {Very well. I see I have little choice. This way.}

As she turned her back, Kaden favored Vanessa with an approving smile.

Vanessa's party soon reached the bay the Zentraedi occupied, to find the heavy hatch flanked by two unarmed guards. Vanessa recognized them immediately as Zentraedi. They were just as gaunt as the Tiresians, and wore the form-fitting slate gray jumpsuits used by many of the regular crew as a daily duty uniform, but the woman on the left had the clay colored skin tone found only among Zentraedi clone soldiers. They were also both taller and more broad shouldered than any of the Tiresians, and had greater muscle mass, in spite of their limited diet. The black emblem of the Zentraedi Armada, an image like a stylized musical note, was crudely screen-printed onto the faded yellow armbands they both wore. They observed the approach of Kaden's armed detachment warily, until Kaden himself stepped up to the head of his troops, and they caught sight of him. Their expressions changed immediately, first in shock. Then both guards snapped to attention and saluted, thumping fist to chest.

{Hail Dolza!} they shouted together.

Next to Vanessa, Saris jerked to a stop. {They don't react like that when we visit,} she whispered. Vanessa moved up closer to her subordinate, and caught sight of his face. What emotions did she see in his expression? Sadness, pride, discomfort, even guilt? Maybe all of them. Kaden slowly returned the salute, precisely and correctly, though lacking the same enthusiasm and vigor.

{Hail Dolza, my friends,} he said, without his usual careless charm. He motioned for his own soldiers to stand down. {I am not your commander. Why do you greet me so?}

{We recognize you, my Lord,} the woman replied. She was shorter than Kaden and her companion, and the long coil of bright red hair that wrapped around her shoulder stood out starkly against her skin, which was the color of dark clay. She had high cheekbones and a long neck. She looked at Kaden with eyes the color of rubies. {You are of the Kravshera line. I am junior sub-officer Atalal. This is my subordinate, Trooper Pogh,} she added, gesturing to the other guard, a big, square-jawed, dark-haired man that looked identical to scores of other Zentraedi soldiers Vanessa had met. {We are at your command!}

{I greet you, Atalal. But you have heard that Supreme Commander Dolza is dead? That the Grand Fleet is gone, and the Empire is broken?} Kaden asked cautiously.

Atalal nodded gravely. {We have heard of these things, though we have met no one who could confirm the destruction of the Grand Fleet. That is why we were surprised to see you. If I may, are you here to take command of us? We grow weary of taking the orders of civilians.}. She made a face, perhaps emboldened by Kaden's appearance, despite the presence of one of the Shalazar's leaders.

{I have no intention of taking command at this time,} Kaden said carefully. {That is not my mission. But perhaps you could assist me?}

{Of course, my Lord!}

Kaden winced. {I hold the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in the United Earth Forces. You may address me as 'Colonel,' or 'sir.'}

{As you wish, my- sir.} Her confusion was plain.

{Thank you. Now, my Captain wishes to conduct an inspection of your quarters and confirm that your living conditions are adequate.}

{Your.. Captain?} Atalal turned her bewildered gaze to Vanessa. {A micronian?}

{Our world is much changed, is it not?} Kaden said sympathetically. {I promise I will explain more later. With your permission, Captain?}

Vanessa nodded. {Of course.} Kaden would be a great help in standing down the Shalazar's Zentraedi contingent. Then they could be processed like any of the other Zentraedi they had encountered, and sent back to Earth for education and job placement or induction into the United Earth Forces. {May we proceed, Atalal?}

{Um, I, wellâ} The woman's eyes darted from Vanessa, to Kaden, and then, curiously, to Saris. Vanessa thought she caught Saris give Atalal a subtle nod, but couldn't be sure. {Yes ma'am! At once! Pogh!}

Pogh punched in the code to open the hatch, and Atalal led Kaden and his Marines into the bay. Immediately upon entering, Vanessa stopped short, realizing that her expectations of what she would find were far from reality.

{You're all micronized!}

Not one giant was to be seen. Vanessa expected the bay to be packed tight with Zentraedi, but it was surprisingly sparse, perhaps a few hundred Zentraedi, and the compartment was dominated by the towering, gangly forms of battlepods, and further away, the bottle-nosed shapes of Gnerl tri-thrusters, the lean, predatory fighter craft arranged on transport rails. But there was a great deal of empty space, and Vanessa realized that had to be a result of the scores of mecha that Commander Reyes's squadrons had shot down.

{The Micronians would not let us board the Shalazar at our proper size,} Atalal said, her distaste plain in her tone.

{We had no choice,} Saris explained. {When we encountered Atalal's patrol squadron, they had lost more than half their number, and combined with the remnants of Pogh's squadron. Their life support was already failing. They were too many for our ship to accommodate, and we couldn't do anything for their ships. Micronization was the only way. We brought them and their mecha aboard. Our technicians modified the mecha to be piloted by two or three person crews of micronized Zentraedi. We traded living space, maintenance, and food for their protection.}

{Not everyone accepted your bargain. After consolidating all the available supplies, some of my crewmates chose to stay on the most space worthy frigate, and make their own way.} Atalal's tone made it clear that she wondered if those Zentraedi might have made the better choice.

{You would have died!} Saris blurted out, sounding almost angry. {I've lost count of how many derelict Zentraedi ships we've encountered. I don't want to encounter another! At least you're alive!}

{Are we? Sometimes I wonder,} Atalal replied bitterly. She turned a troubled glance toward Kaden and Vanessa. {Now we are defeated and without purpose.}

Saris opened her mouth, and then seemed to bite off the retort she wanted to make. {You could have killed us,} she said quietly, {or taken what little we had and abandoned us to die. But you didn't. And now you have been spared, as you spared us. There's still hope.}

{You use that word to mean something different than the Zentraedi do,} Atalal grumbled. {I must announce you now.}. She stepped over to the hatch controls and activated the bay's intercom. {Zentraedi warriors! We are being visited by the officers who defeated us! One of the Kravshera line is among them. Prepare yourselves, and assemble!}

A murmur spread through the camp, and Vanessa heard junior officers echoing Atalal's orders. With military efficiency that was undiminished, the Zentraedi left their shelters, straightened their uniforms, and formed into small marching units that made their way to the bay doors. While they approached, Vanessa got a better look at the quarters they had built for themselves. It looked like they had scavenged materials from the pilots' compartments of their mecha, a practical choice, since the war machines no longer needed to accommodate giant operators. She was interested in seeing the inside of the shelters, but so far, the conditions weren't so much different than the Tiresians. All was clean, well lit, and efficient, but also grim and cheerless. As the Zentraedi troopers assembled, she saw they wore an eclectic mix of jumpsuits and work clothes that had probably come from a dozen different worlds and starships, utilitarian in design and yet also possessing a few elegant touches as well - embellished, colorful trim, high, sharp collars, shiny, metallic belts, or sashes that shimmered silkenly. Their garb reminded Vanessa of the way her old Zentraedi friend, Arie, had personalized her work outfits during her scavenging days, before she moved to designing new fashion wear for giants. Without exception, they wore the yellow armbands that identified them as Zentraedi, and Vanessa wondered if they were marked out that way to designate their role as soldiers, or to keep them segregated from the ship's Tiresian crew and passengers.

The troops assembled in formation, and Vanessa further noted that while the vast majority of them lined up strictly gender segregated blocks, as they would have through nearly the entire history of the Armada, here and there the men and women were intermixed in small groups. She looked over at Saris, and caught the woman watching her. Saris quickly turned her attention away from Vanessa, and bit her lip nervously. The last stragglers arrived, and Atalal nodded to the visitors.

"It might be best if you explained the situation, Colonel," Vanessa told Kaden.

"Yes, Captain," he agreed, and faced the ranked warriors, who regarded him with a mixture of caution, curiosity and respect. {Zentraedi warriors! I am Kaden Kravshera, formerly commander of the 403rd Battalion, and now an officer in the United Earth Forces who defeated me. It has been ten years since I witnessed the Death of Supreme Commander Dolza.}

Kaden's tone was grave, and his presence powerful. Vanessa watched the reactions of the other Zentraedi, and saw that he held their rapt attention. While Kaden continued to speak, she turned to the master sergeant. "You're with me, Sergeant," she said quietly. "I'd like to begin my inspection while everyone is occupied."

The sergeant glanced over at Kravshera. "Given our situation, is that wise, Captain?"

"I believe now is the best time."

"Yes, ma'am." He signaled to one of his corporals, and the three of them discreetly turned down one of the avenues formed by the shelters and the immense, hoof-like feet of the battlepods. Vanessa wasn't sure what she was looking for, but something seemed off to her, especially given Saris's suddenly shifty behavior. Everything appeared normal. The shelters were simple, but adequate, with walls built from large access panels scavenged from the interiors of battlepods that had been combined with pieces from disassembled cargo containers. Cushioning material from the battllepod pilots' seats served well for insulation material, as well as to pad makeshift chairs and couches. The interiors were as clean as the streets, and all was arranged with proper military discipline. She even found a partitioned area where the Zentraedi had improvised weight lifting equipment out of pieces taken from the innards of several broken down battlepods at the edge of the bay. Personal possessions were few, but little less than she had seen among the Tiresians. Turning a corner, she approached a neat stack of metal crates and found them to be code-locked. Their contents were clearly marked - spare clothing and hygiene items mainly.

"With your permission, we'll arrange for all of these crates to be inspected and make sure there are no caches of contraband weapons or explosives, ma'am," the sergeant told her. "We can do it at the same time all of the mecha are being registered for dismantlement."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Vanessa said, keeping her eyes on her surroundings.

{Captain! Captain!} Saris called out, running toward them from the far end of the street, her colorful gown fluttering and threatening to tangle her legs, while her gold chain belt jangled loudly. The Marines readied their weapons, but kept them pointed at the deck, and Vanessa waved for them to stand down. Saris stopped as she reached the group and bent, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. None of the Tiresians were in particularly fit condition, after so many years of short rations and limited activity.

{Yes Saris?}

{You- you shouldn't be here!} the woman panted.

{Why?}

{Because- because the Zentraedi haven't granted you permission. You should have asked. You should respect their privacy.}

Vanessa frowned. {Normally, I might agree. But in this case, I feel I must.} She turned from the woman, and carefully scanned the street again. {You're hiding something from me. There's something-} She broke off. There was something. An object was laying in the street. Saris followed her gaze and made a small sound of alarm, uselessly reaching out a hand, but the sergeant interposed his considerable bulk between her and his captain. Vanessa strode across the deck, bent down, and picked up an object like nothing she had seen since she left Earth.

A round white face. Black stitching for mouth and nose. Small, synthetic rubber tabs for eyes. Strips of bright green fabric served as hair. A loose gray body, constructed of material cut from a work jumpsuit. The emblem of the Zentraedi fleet was carefully painted on the chest. Loose packing foam provided the stuffing. Vanessa held the doll up where Saris could see it.

{What is this?}

Saris didn't answer, her face ashen. An infant's cry broke the silence of the deserted street.

Next chapter... a most demanding superior, the conqueror, and General Quarters...