Second Chances V1 Continued

by God's servant

This is a continuation of the original Second Chances by AndrewJamesWilliams. Please read his excellent work before reading my continuation. The first chapter represents Chapter 25 of the story or 27 of the published chapters (One chapter was split and another was an Omake). If you haven't already read (or re-read if it's been a long time) his story, you might get confused.

1. Chapter 1

Second Chances: V1 Continued

This is a continuation of Second Chances by AndrewJamesWilliams. Please be sure that you have read his first version of this story before reading my continuation.

In any reviews, please remember that this is my first published attempt at fanfiction, and I probably suck. If Andrew ever decides that he wants to use what I've written to continue his story, I will remove sections as he covers that material in his own. This is an attempt at a continuation since he has not published anything on this story in more than two years. His reboot had a good start, but I liked too many elements from the first one to see it die.

Disclaimer:

I do not own any characters, vehicles, or settings for Robotech. The only exceptions are Zardel, Kurda, Natrixa, and Alura as they are original characters. I also am not doing this for money and will make none from this. Please don't sue. Also, I have contacted Andrew concerning posting this continuation of his story, but I have not heard back in multiple weeks. I have to assume that his silence means that he is not against this being published. If I find that I am mistaken, we will cross that bridge at that time.

Chapter 25

Captain Ramirez's Meeting with the United Earth Government

The sterile conference chamber at Alaska Base loomed as an embodiment of Earth's fragile unity. Harsh overhead lights glinted off polished steel walls, and the massive UEG insignia behind the central podium reminded Captain Ramirez of the immense stakes tied to his report.

As he adjusted his uniform, Ramirez's gaze swept over the twelve members of the United Earth Government Security Council seated around the circular table. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to suspicion, their focus unyielding.

"Captain Ramirez," began Admiral Donald Hayes, his voice sharp and measured, "we've convened to hear your report regarding the SDF-1's status, the Zentraedi threat, and most notably, the acquisition of Zor's factory satellite. What you share here may determine the course of Earth's future."

Ramirez nodded. "Admiral Hayes, Madam Secretary, members of the Council, I appreciate this opportunity to provide an update. I'll begin with the SDF-1 itself. Following our acquisition of Zor's factory satellite, the SDF-1 has undergone complete repairs. Every system, from propulsion to weaponry, has been restored to full operational status, thanks to the advanced capabilities of the satellite. It has also been modified to be double its previous size. It is now approximately 2400 meters long and has had its weapons and armor upgraded to the best that the station's stored plans have at this time."

A murmur spread across the room. Secretary-General Yurika Matsuda leaned forward, her expression a mix of astonishment and calculation. "You're saying the SDF-1 is now fully operational and better than before? And this factory satellite... explain its significance."

Ramirez allowed a small, confident smile. "The factory satellite is one of Zor's greatest technological marvels, a fully automated production facility capable of manufacturing advanced weapons, vehicles, and even entire starships. Its databanks hold blueprints for Zentraedi and Tirolian technology, including weaponry that surpasses anything that the Robotech masters currently have access to. With it, Earth can not only defend itself but begin leveling the playing field against the Zentraedi. You saw what the Artemis is capable of when that Zentraedi Frigate that attacked us."

General Leonard's scowl deepened. "You're suggesting that Earth should depend on alien technology. That's risky, Captain. What guarantees do we have that this satellite can't be turned against us?"

"General," Ramirez replied evenly, "the satellite has already been thoroughly examined by the SDF-1's engineers and scientists, including Dr. Emil Lang. Its systems have been reprogrammed to respond exclusively to human control. Moreover, Captain Gloval has taken precautions to safeguard it from any external interference. It is now a resource we can leverage for Earth's defense and beyond."

Admiral Hayes steepled his fingers. "And the Zentraedi? How does the possession of this satellite alter their strategy?"

Ramirez's expression hardened. "The Zentraedi are already aware of our possession of the satellite, though I'm confident that they did not expect something like this. Zor's satellite is superior to even what the Robotech Masters possess as it was designed by the very founder of Robotechnology. Their attempts to capture it have been unsuccessful, thanks to the SDF-1's restored capabilities and the advanced weaponry we've begun manufacturing. That said, their numbers remain a significant concern. While the factory satellite grants us a strategic edge, it also paints a larger target on Earth."

Secretary Matsuda tapped her fingers on the table, her voice soft yet incisive. "Captain Ramirez, this Council needs to know what you believe the factory satellite means for Earth's long-term survival."

Ramirez stood a little straighter. "Madam Secretary, with the factory satellite, humanity now has the ability to produce weapons and vehicles at a scale and sophistication previously unimaginable. It is theorized that it can produce a fleet numbering in the hundreds -perhaps even a thousand ships in roughly one month. The Artemis was built in twelve hours. It's a chance to move beyond relying on salvaged alien tech or outdated terrestrial systems. However, it's also a challenge. To survive, we must use this advantage wisely—creating a fleet that can not only repel the Zentraedi but also defend Earth from the Robotech Masters when they come to look for the SDF-1."

The room fell into a contemplative silence. Finally, Admiral Hayes broke it. "And what of Captain Gloval? What are his plans for the SDF-1 now that it's fully operational?"

"Captain Gloval has chosen to remain with the factory satellite for the time being, overseeing its security and ensuring the continued production of critical resources. I returned to Earth to report directly to this Council and to request unified support for integrating this satellite into Earth's defense strategy. Also, I am here to request approximately 500 individuals to crew the next couple of ships that the factory will produce. The SDF-1 has become more than just a ship—it's humanity's best chance to secure its future."

General Leonard's scowl did not waver, but there was a glint of reluctant approval in his eyes. Secretary Matsuda folded her hands. "Captain Ramirez, the significance of this development cannot be overstated. This Council will deliberate your requests, but I can assure you that the factory satellite will become a cornerstone of our strategy moving forward. For now, ensure the SDF-1 and its contingent remain secure."

Ramirez saluted. "Understood, Madam Secretary."

As Ramirez exited the chamber, a mixture of relief and tension settled over him. The SDF-1 and Zor's factory satellite had given Earth a fighting chance—but it was a fragile chance. For humanity to thrive, the UEG would need to set aside internal divisions and truly embrace the unprecedented opportunities now within its grasp.

Breetai's flagship a few hours earlier

The dimly lit chamber hummed with energy as Exedore stood at the central control console, his hands delicately manipulating the controls of the micronization chamber. The large device loomed like a sentinel, its imposing presence a reminder of the Zentraedi's mastery of biotechnology.

Konda, Rico, and Braun stood to one side, their expressions betraying a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Behind them, the chosen security detail—Miriya Parina and four others—waited in disciplined silence.

Miriya kept her face neutral, concealing her true allegiance. Her time aboard the SDF-3 had taught her to master her emotions, even under the scrutiny of someone as perceptive as Exedore.

"As you are all aware," Exedore began, "this mission is of paramount importance. The three of you—Konda, Rico, and Braun—have been selected for your analytical capabilities and adaptability. Your task is to infiltrate the Micronian ranks and observe their culture closely. The security detail will ensure your safety and assist where necessary."

He adjusted his glasses and continued, "To aid your efforts, I have consulted what I believe to be a comprehensive docudrama of Micronian life. It is a production titledBattlestar Galactica."

Miriya suppressed the urge to groan. She had realized days ago that Exedore's so-called docudrama was nothing more than fiction from the Micronian entertainment archives. Still, revealing this would only jeopardize her position, so she remained silent.

Exedore gestured toward a series of garments hanging on nearby racks. "These uniforms are modeled after what I observed in the docudrama. They will help you blend seamlessly into the Micronian environment."

Miriya glanced at the clothing and nearly faltered. The "uniforms" were an eclectic mix of leather jackets, distressed pants, and flight suits, all designed with an unmistakably theatrical flair. She caught sight of a particularly flamboyant piece—a long trench coat lined with faux fur—and wondered how anyone could take them seriously.

Braun picked up a sleeveless leather vest and frowned. "Micronians wear this in battle?"

Exedore nodded solemnly. "According to the docudrama, such attire symbolizes authority and resilience."

Miriya coughed lightly to hide her smirk. "It is… fitting for the mission," she said diplomatically, hoping to move things along.

The micronization chambers aboard Breetai's flagship

As the first spy, Konda, stepped into the chamber, the room grew quiet. The faint hum of the machinery intensified, and a beam of pale light enveloped him. Moments later, the towering Zentraedi warrior was reduced to the size of a Micronian.

He stepped out, adjusting to his new height with a mix of fascination and unease. "This is… strange," he muttered, flexing his fingers.

Rico and Braun followed suit, each experiencing the disorienting sensation of suddenly being small. Finally, it was the turn of the security detail.

Miriya stepped into the chamber confidently. She had undergone the process before and knew what to expect. As the beam washed over her, she focused on the mission ahead—getting back to Max and ensuring the success of the spies' cultural assimilation.

When the process was complete, Exedore handed them each a small device. "These communicators are designed to blend in with Micronian technology. Use them sparingly. Your primary directive is observation, not interference."

A couple hours later

The newly micronized team stood before Exedore in their mismatched attire, a sight that would have been comical under other circumstances. The security detail members—Zardel, Kurda, Natrixa, and Alura—each wore their assigned roles with pride, even if their clothing choices clashed terribly.

Exedore stepped back, surveying the group. "Remember, your mission is critical. Learn their culture, their strengths, and their weaknesses. Report back with everything you observe."

Miriya nodded, her mind already racing ahead. She had to ensure the spies were exposed to humanity's best qualities while preventing them from discovering her true loyalty. This mission was her chance to subtly guide them toward understanding what had inspired her own transformation.

"Dismissed," Exedore said. "Prepare for deployment."

As the team filed out, Miriya couldn't help but think about what lay ahead. Somewhere out there – she hoped, Max was waiting for her. She just had to find the right moment to reunite with him—without jeopardizing the mission.

Mid-Earth Orbit

Two hour later

A Zentraedi cruiser emerged from hyperspace near Earth's orbit, immediately drawing the attention of the planet's orbital defense network. The cruiser's aggressive maneuvers and simulated attack patterns served as a deliberate distraction, engaging the defense satellites and Earth's military forces.

Meanwhile, the Cyclops-class reconnaissance ship—a robust vessel measuring approximately 58 meters in width and 85 meters in length, with a mass exceeding 2,000 metric tons—approached Earth under the cover of advanced electronic countermeasures (ECM).

Its design, optimized for stealth and reconnaissance, allowed it to slip past the engaged defenses unnoticed.

The Cyclops descended through the atmosphere, its ECM systems masking its entry trajectory. Given the potential devastation caused by the Macross Island incident—including a mega-tsunami in the South Pacific—the team had to carefully select a viable insertion point.

While Anchorage, Alaska, might have been affected by the global climatic disturbances resulting from these events, much of the city remained structurally intact, albeit with potential disruptions. Therefore, the decision was made to proceed with the original plan to land near Anchorage, considering its proximity to Alaska Base and the Artemis.

The Cyclops touched down in a secluded area within the dense forests near Anchorage. Miriya Parinaand her team, now micronized and clad in attire inspired by Exedore's interpretation of Micronian culture, disembarked swiftly. After the spies and their escort disembarked, the Cyclops Recon pod departed to return to the Zentraedi cruiser.

"We must reach Alaska Base before the Artemis departs," Miriya instructed, her tone decisive. "Maintain a low profile and avoid unnecessary interactions."

The team navigated through the forest, utilizing their reconnaissance training to evade detection. Upon reaching the outskirts of Anchorage, they observed the city's state post-Macross incident. While there were signs of environmental impact—such as altered weather patterns and possible infrastructure strain—the urban area remained largely functional. Streets were alive with activity—construction crews repaired damaged infrastructure, while locals hurried about their business amidst makeshift markets and supply depots.

Konda, Rico, Braun,and their five protectors clad in theirBattlestar Galactica-inspired outfits, drew more than a few raised eyebrows as they entered the edge of town. Their mismatched attire, which might have passed for a strange costume party elsewhere, stood out even in the chaos of Anchorage.

Braun adjusted his leather vest, tugging at the seams. "This is supposed to make me blend in?" he muttered, eyeing a passerby in a rugged parka and snow boots. "They're all dressed for the cold. I'm freezing."

"You're freezing?" Rico shot back, shivering in his sleeveless jumpsuit. "I feel like a Micronian popsicle."

Konda, ever the pragmatist, glanced at Miriya. "Commander, are you certain these garments are… appropriate? The locals seem confused."

Miriya's expression remained stoic, though inwardly, she found their plight amusing. "Exedore's information was… incomplete. You'll find Micronian attire varies greatly depending on the environment and social context."

"Context?" Rico blinked. "How are we supposed to figure that out?"

"You observe." Miriya gestured subtly toward a nearby shop where several civilians were browsing racks of clothing. "And adapt."

A few minutes later

Drawn by their curiosity and the promise of warmth, the team wandered into a second-hand clothing store, its sign reading "Sally's Thrift Haven." Miriya led the way, her calculated demeanor lending an air of authority.

The shopkeeper, a kindly older woman with a sharp eye for oddities, greeted them with a smile. "Well, aren't you folks a sight for sore eyes! Been to some sort of cosplay event, have you?"

Braun frowned. "Cosplay?"

Rico elbowed him, whispering, "I think it's a Micronian greeting."

Miriya intervened smoothly. "We've been traveling and need attire more suited to this climate. Can you assist us?"

Sally chuckled. "Of course, honey. Just let me know what you're looking for."

The group fanned out, each Zentraedi awkwardly navigating racks of sweaters, jeans, and jackets. Rico pulled a fur-lined parka from a hanger and studied it like it was alien technology. "This doesn't have any armaments," he muttered.

"It's clothing," Konda replied. "It's not supposed to."

Nearby, Braun tried on a knit hat that barely fit over his micronized head. "Why do Micronians wear this? It's constricting."

"It's for warmth," Miriya said with a faint smirk, tossing him a larger beanie.

Rico approached the counter with an eclectic mix of clothes: a bright red flannel shirt, cargo pants two sizes too large, and fuzzy slippers shaped like polar bears. "Do these symbolize authority and resilience?"

Sally blinked, then burst out laughing. "Oh, sweetie, they symbolize comfort! But if you're looking to blend in, I'd stick with something a little more practical."

Fifteen minutes later, the team exited the shop with bags of clothes and slightly bruised egos. Each of them now sported outfits that, while not perfectly coordinated, at least fit the climate and didn't draw as much attention. Miriya had opted for a fitted coat and boots, her practiced Micronian aesthetic helping her blend seamlessly.

Braun, however, still clutched the polar bear slippers, his fascination with them undiminished. "I don't understand why you call this a primitive culture. Their technology may be lacking, but their innovations in comfort are remarkable."

Konda adjusted his new scarf and nodded. "Perhaps there is more to these Micronians than we thought."

Rico squinted at a passing food truck advertising hot dogs. "What do you think a 'hot dog' is? Is it… an actual dog?"

"Why don't you try one and find out?" Miriya suggested, unable to hide the mischievous glint in her eye.

Elmendorf Air Force Base

Two hours later

As the team made their way toward transportation options, they began to talk among themselves about the Micronians. Their initial disdain was giving way to a reluctant curiosity.

"They have strange rituals," Rico admitted. "But they seem… happy."

Konda nodded. "And they work together, even in hardship. That's not something we're used to seeing."

Miriya allowed herself a small, private smile. The seeds of understanding had been planted, and she knew the journey ahead would water them. But for now, they had a mission to complete—and a transport to catch.

Alaska Base

Five hours later

Captain Ramirez stood on the command bridge of theArtemis, watching as the crew completed preparations for departure. The ship was docked at Alaska Base, its sleek hull a testament to the advanced engineering of the factory satellite. Outside, a light snowfall blanketed the surrounding tarmac, creating an almost serene contrast to the ship's urgent mission. By now, everyone who would be going to the factory satellite had arrived. "Time to brief everyone."

Ramirez descended to one of the cargo bays, converted into a temporary staging area. Rows of soldiers and technical specialists were already assembling, their chatter echoing against the bulkheads. These men and women, handpicked for their experience and adaptability, were the future of humanity's fleet.

The captain raised a hand, and silence fell. "Ladies and gentlemen, you've been chosen for this mission because you represent the best Earth has to offer. The factory satellite we're returning to is unlike anything we've ever seen—a facility that could change the course of this war."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "Your roles won't just be to crew the ships we build there. You'll be learning from alien technology, adapting to new challenges, and, above all, ensuring that Earth has a fighting chance against the Zentraedi."

A murmur of acknowledgment swept through the group, and Ramirez gave a curt nod. "Boarding begins in thirty minutes. Dismissed."

With time before departure, Ramirez made his way to the base's command center to oversee the final logistics. The cold Alaskan air bit at him as he crossed the base's open tarmac, the snow crunching under his boots. Despite the weather, the base was alive with activity—transport vehicles shuttling supplies, engineers performing last-minute checks on theArtemis, and soldiers preparing for their journey.

Inside the command center, Lieutenant Commander Hayashi awaited him with an updated report. "Captain, all personnel have been cleared for boarding. Supplies are at 95% loaded, and we'll be ready for departure within the hour."

"Good," Ramirez replied, scanning the report. "Make sure the final checks are completed by the time the last person boards."

"Yes, sir."

Returning to theArtemis, Ramirez paused at one of the observation windows overlooking the base. Snow-covered mountains loomed in the distance, their silent majesty a stark contrast to the chaos of war. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the weight of the mission—the delicate balance of hope and danger that came with the factory satellite.

A few minutes earlier

The bustle of Alaska Base was a whirlwind of activity, a chaotic blend of Micronian efficiency and improvisation. For the Zentraedi spies and their security detail, it was both fascinating and nerve-wracking.

Miriya Parina led the group through the base's corridors, their newly acquired Micronian clothing helping them blend into the throngs of soldiers and specialists preparing to board theArtemis. Despite their mismatched attire, the team's disciplined demeanor attracted little attention.

"Remember," Miriya whispered to Rico, Konda, and Braun, "our goal is to observe and adapt. Speak only when necessary and follow my lead."

Rico adjusted his coat, still struggling to understand why Micronians layered their clothing. "This mission would be simpler if we were in uniform. These garments feel… inefficient."

Konda shot him a look. "You'd prefer to stand out like a beacon? We're supposed to blend in."

Miriya silenced them with a glance. "Focus. The less we draw attention, the better."

The group approached the boarding area, where soldiers were being directed into theArtemisthrough a series of loading ramps. The Zentraedi spies marveled at the sheer scale of the operation—equipment being hauled aboard, personnel being processed, and the hum of the ship's systems preparing for launch.

A logistics officer waved them over. "You're the late arrivals from the Anchorage detachment, right?"

"Yes," Miriya said smoothly, stepping forward. "We were delayed by transport issues, but we're here now."

The officer nodded, barely looking up from his clipboard. "You're in Section C, Deck 3. Get moving; we're on a tight schedule."

As they filed past, Braun leaned toward Rico. "Why didn't he question us?"

"Micronians are disorganized," Rico replied, though he sounded more uncertain than convinced.

On the bridge of the Artemis

Stepping onto theArtemis, the Zentraedi spies and their security detail were struck by the ship's interior. The corridors were clean and brightly lit, a mix of human and Zentraedi design elements evident in the sleek yet utilitarian layout.

"This is impressive," Konda admitted, running a hand along the wall. "I didn't expect Micronians to achieve this level of engineering."

Miriya suppressed a smile.If only you knew where this ship was built,she thought.

The team followed the directions to their assigned quarters. The room was small but functional, with bunks stacked neatly against the walls and lockers for personal effects.

Braun flopped onto a bunk and frowned. "This bed is… softer than I expected. Is this another of their comforts?"

"Micronians prioritize comfort in their living arrangements," Miriya said. "It's one of the reasons their culture is so resilient."

The ship's intercom crackled to life, Captain Ramirez's voice echoing through the corridors. "All personnel, prepare for departure. We are scheduled to leave within the hour. Secure all equipment and report to your assigned stations."

Miriya glanced at the spies. "This is it. Keep your eyes and ears open. We'll observe how they operate during the journey."

As they explored the ship, the Zentraedi spies found themselves drawn to various areas:

Rico was fascinated by the mess hall, where soldiers chatted casually over meals.

Konda lingered in the engineering section, marveling at the fusion of human and Zentraedi technology.

Braun, ever curious, struck up a conversation with a young technician about the ship's weapon systems, though Miriya had to intervene before he asked too many probing questions.

Five minutes later

A voice over the comms broke his reverie. "Captain Ramirez, final boarding is complete. All personnel accounted for."

"Understood," he replied, turning toward the bridge. "Prepare for launch."

Elsewhere aboard the Artemis

In a quiet corner of the ship, Miriya took a moment to gather her thoughts. The mission was proceeding smoothly, but she knew the real challenge lay ahead. Her loyalty to humanity had to remain hidden for now, but she couldn't ignore the seeds of doubt she saw growing in her team.

For the spies, this journey was meant to be an observation mission. For Miriya, it was something more—a chance to show them the humanity she had come to value, to nudge them toward understanding the world she now called home.

The intercom buzzed again. "Final boarding is complete. All systems green. Prepare for takeoff."

Miriya straightened, her expression unreadable. TheArtemiswas about to depart, and with it, the Zentraedi team's journey into the heart of Micronian culture would truly begin.

TheArtemisshuddered slightly as it initiated the fold operation. Miriya stood near one of the observation windows in the common area, her gaze fixed on the swirling vortex of light outside. The ship hummed with energy, its systems seamlessly adapting to the stress of folding through space.

Around her, the other members of the Zentraedi security detail—Zardel, Kurda, Natrixa, and Alura—sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Zardel, the eldest of the group and a veteran of countless battles, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. His sharp eyes scanned the room, observing the Micronians with an analytical detachment.

"These Micronians are... peculiar," he muttered to himself. "Their efficiency is commendable, but they lack the discipline of true warriors."

He glanced at Miriya, who seemed at ease among the humans.How does she do it?he wondered.She moves among them as if she belongs here.

Kurda, ever the skeptic, tapped his fingers against the armrest of her seat. The ship's hum reminded her of Zentraedi vessels, but the atmosphere was entirely different.

"They are too relaxed," she whispered to Natrixa, who sat beside her. "How can they fight if they spend so much time laughing and eating?"

Natrixa shrugged. "Perhaps that's their strength. They fight to protect this... comfort."

Kurda frowned, unwilling to concede the point but unable to dismiss the thought.

Natrixa, the youngest and most inquisitive of the group, was captivated by the fold process itself. She had claimed a seat near a small console, where a Micronian technician worked to monitor the ship's systems.

"How does it work?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.

The technician glanced at her, surprised by her interest. "The fold? It's complex—reflex technology, derived from alien sources. We've adapted it for our use."

Natrixa nodded thoughtfully, her mind racing.They've managed to use Zentraedi technology in ways we never imagined.

Alura, always the most diplomatic of the group, sat quietly but observed everything. She noticed the camaraderie among the crew, the subtle gestures of respect and familiarity that spoke of bonds forged over time.

"These Micronians value each other," she mused. "Perhaps that is why they are so resilient."

Her gaze shifted to Miriya, who stood apart but exuded a quiet confidence.Perhaps that is what she sees in them.

Miriya, aware of her team's thoughts even in silence, remained focused on the mission. The fold to the Flame Nebula wouldn't take long, but it was enough time for the seeds of doubt and curiosity to grow within her team.

She turned from the window and addressed them. "Remember, we are here to observe and protect. These humans are not our enemies—they are our allies in this fight against the Zentraedi fleet."

The group exchanged uncertain glances but nodded in unison. For now, they would follow her lead, even if their understanding of humanity was still incomplete.

Flame Nebula

A few hours later

TheArtemisemerged from its fold space journey smoothly, the swirling lights of hyperspace giving way to the stark brilliance of the Flame Nebula. The factory satellite loomed ahead—a massive, glowing construct of alien origin, its intricate architecture dwarfing even the largest of human vessels.

Inside theArtemis, the 500 soldiers and specialists prepared to disembark. The ship's hangar bay was alive with activity as officers directed the passengers into orderly lines. Miriya and her team blended into the crowd, their demeanor calm but alert.

"Welcome to the factory satellite," came the voice of Captain Ramirez over the ship's intercom. "You are about to step into one of humanity's most significant assets. Follow all instructions from your assigned officers. Good luck."

The soldiers filed down the gangways into the satellite's vast reception area, where rows of chairs faced a raised platform. At the platform's center stood Commander Lisa Hayes, her uniform crisp and her presence commanding.

Lisa waited for the crowd to settle before stepping up to the podium. Her voice, steady and authoritative, carried easily across the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, "welcome to the factory satellite. What you see around you is a testament to the incredible ingenuity of our allies and the resilience of humanity. This facility is more than a factory—it's a beacon of hope in our fight against the Zentraedi."

She paused, scanning the crowd. "Your mission here is critical. You will train, adapt, and prepare to operate the ships and technologies that this satellite will produce. The knowledge you gain and the skills you develop will shape the future of Earth's defense."

As Lisa spoke, her gaze passed over the crowd, lingering momentarily on a familiar face—Miriya Parino. Though dressed inconspicuously, Miriya's stature and confidence set her apart. Lisa's eyes narrowed slightly, but she continued without missing a beat.

"You have my utmost confidence," Lisa concluded. "Now, report to your assigned officers for further instructions. Dismissed."

As the crowd began to disperse, Lisa stepped down from the podium and approached one of her aides. "Lieutenant," she said quietly, "see to it that Miriya Parina is informed I'd like to meet with her privately. Discreetly."

The lieutenant nodded, his expression betraying no surprise. "Understood, ma'am."

Lisa watched as the soldiers and specialists filtered out of the room, her mind already turning to the conversation she would soon have with the Zentraedi ace.How did you manage to get here, Miriya?she wondered.And which Miriya are you? The one I know, or the one loyal to the Zentraedi?