years ago by Khyron and his remaining rebel Zentraedi, the Robotech
Defense Forces flew regular patrols South
Don't think 'South' needs to capitalized
of the base, usually
escorting a lumbering Cats
Cat's (I think)
trouble anymore. The back of the Zentraedi forces had broken with
their suicide attack on the venerable SDF-1 and its sister ship, the
SDF-2. Still, the patrols continued, more out of habit than
necessity.
Heh. Why do i have a suspicion that's about to go back to necessity?
Jeff shivered as a cool breeze pushed its way through the open
window, caressing his exposed skin. Wearing only his pajama bottoms,
he tried to ignore the cool breeze
I'd change the 'cool breeze' term since you used it in the previous
sentence and it seemsa bit redundant. Also you use 'cold' in the next
sentence, which adds to the feeling to me.
and tell himself he wasn't as young
as he used to be, back when the cold didn't bother him so much.
At forty-six, he was one of the oldest active members of the
RDF. Former ace-pilot in the Global Civil War, former Veritech test
pilot, former RDF Academy instructor, and finally a squadron
commander, he was considered too old to fly.
Not like the good old days of the RDF when Gloval and company were
desperate enough to take any warm body that could fly a veritech in the
hopes of holding off the Zentraedi long enough to get to Earth. :)
still out fly most of the young pups they sent up to test him in mock
dogfights. No, they wanted pilots who followed orders better.
Ah. Well now that makes better sense.
equation. There were times he could close his eyes and still see the
faces of those who fell in battles famous and obscure, warriors
remembered only by their comrades and family. Many who died went
unrecovered, robbing their family and friends of even the most basic
of dignities: a decent burial. Yes, there were times he felt his age.
nice passage about lost comrades
Robotech Masters. The few that remained, like Jeffrey Stuart, tried
to bridge the gap between the RDF of old and the developing Army of
the Southern Cross with their modern, more efficient mecha and
weapons.
Yes, but their designs were downright ugly.
Academy but just good enough to qualify under the relaxed RDF
standards? Or were they some veterans serving out their last days
till
I'd recommend spelling it out as 'until' It just seems to lax to abbreviate
it that way.
retirement? That would be novel, he thought. Few veterans flew
anymore. Like him, they were all considered too old.
The sound of Veritech engines spooling up to full power
accompanied twin cones of brilliant protoculture fueled exhaust as the
tiny craft rolled a short distance and seemed to leap into the air,
quickly followed by its companion.
nice imagery
the Barony of York, a particularly nasty little xenophobic fiefdom
that lived on their hatred for everything Zentraedi.
They'll get along find with Gen. Leonard then :)
There were
plenty of Zentraedi around to hate. Most had chosen to be micronized
in order to mix with the indigenous population. The Yorkies, however,
were masters at rooting them out, hunting them down, and dispatching
them with all speed.
They did the same with Mets fans was well, but that was okay since every
hated New Yorkers. :)
His hand slid lower over her bare skin and she responded by
molding herself to his backside. One of her slim hands slid down
across his hard stomach, paused a moment, then ventured lower.
"Small as ever," she sighed.
"Come back to bed," she whispered. "I'm cold."
Cold? He knew better. Many times he'd watched her from a
distance, standing naked in the snow at the Winter solstice to 'sing
back the sun.'
Someone should have told her it comes back on its own. Would have saved her
a lot of time and suffering. :)
grown too old and infirm to do the job. So it fell to his only child
to annually stand before the Great Spirit and through the strong magic
of her song to convince him to return the sun to the Lakota lands.
Jeff smiled again and thought of how if he was the Great Spirit and
saw something like his wife standing naked in the snow, he'd return
anything she asked for.
Heh. Cute.
dress uniform reported to RDF Command. He carried his paperwork in a
folder tucked safely under his arm. Despite the modernization of the
RDF, they still demanded their paperwork, neatly typed, signed and in
triplicate.
Bueracracies will outlast us all.
"Come in, Jeff," the General said in a business-like voice.
There was no hint of their long friendship in his greeting.
I wouldn't say that since he addressed him by first name instead of rank.
General Emerson turned to look at Jeff. His eyes were puffy
>from the lack of sleep, his tunic uncharacteristically undone, dangled
as he moved. He was obviously under some stress. "And how long do
you think that would last?"
"Indefinitely, it
if
This wasn't at all what Jeff expected. All he was supposed to
do was deliver his retirement papers, sign a few other forms, and bid
the General goodbye. Nobody said anything about a briefing. There
was something afoot.
I'll say. Wouldn't be much of a story otherwise.
"Very good," General Emerson said before picking up a folder
with 'SECRET' stamped across its cover. "Now take a look at this."
He tossed the folder onto his desk where Jeff could reach. "This
morning there was a rather nasty mutiny among the squadrons. Several
officers were killed and the entire base declared itself part of the
alliance. The CAS now has a viable military force to be reckoned
with."
That's bad.
"How did it happen?" Jeff asked while thumbing through the
folder.
"Intelligence isn't sure. The only bits we can piece together
point to the Southern Cross being involved but their
they're
square mile than anywhere else, Arabia is a wasteland, and Asia is
only a spark away from the Manchurians are only a theft or two away
>from Robotechnology.
You lost me there at the end of the sentence.
"Yes, and done it extremely well. That's why I can't let you
go just yet." Emerson moved around his desk and plopped into his
aging office chair before issuing the 'magic words'. "I've got one
more assignment for you."
"Dig us a really big latrine, then you can go."
"What about the ASC? Can't they help somewhere?"
"They probably could but General Leonard refuses to move until
he's ready and
ready, and
So that was it. Leonard could see where the world was going
but chooses
'chose' would be better there, I think.
to do nothing until it would be most advantageous for him
personally. Jeff hated opportunists almost as much as politicians and
he hated politicians only slightly more than traitors.
"All I have to do is form one more squadron, train them up,
'train them up'? I think just 'train them' would suffice
"Yeah, that's it. I won't ask any more from you. I know you
deserve to get out of this in one piece. You at least have somewhere
to go." Emerson forced a smile. "Some of us don't even have that."
"You have Max and Miriya's daughter to raise."
Emerson snorted. "I also have Claudia Grant's nephew, Bowie. I'm
going to try to keep them out of the military."
WAHHAHAHAHA!
"Think you can?" Jeff started working out how much space two kids
would take in their retirement home. The kids would be safe out on
the reservation, far away from wars and fighting.
Emerson shook his head. "I doubt it. Leonard has already
started making inquiries. My wife says she's seen GMP people hanging
around the neighborhood. They know were
where
manhandling a tall female RDF officer in handcuffs. One look at her
confirmed why the restraints. She was easily six feet tall, her blue
hair pulled back in a makeshift ponytail, and built like a natural
fighter. Her uniform looked like it had been slept in. Her face bore
a couple of bruises as if she'd recently been in a fight.
First recruit.
A second, more sedate pair, consisting of a mousy-looking
little blonde female and her burly escort followed at a respectable
distance. The blonde awkwardly pushed her oversized glasses back onto
the bridge of her nose, her handcuffs making such a simple act
difficult, and looked around like a prisoner on her way to the
gallows.
And the second.
assignment," the sergeant said while unlocking the handcuffs of the
tall, blue-haired female. The way she glared at him made it clear she
was looking for any excuse to rip his head off.
"You've got to be kidding," Jeff growled through clenched
teeth. "I don't take prisoners."
Heh
"Argentine Quadrant. The 42nd Squadron."
"Near the Zentraedi Control Zone. Yes, I've heard of that.
Wasn't the 42nd teamed with Skull Squadron for awhile?"
Ona Parino's expression became a bit embarrassed.
Oh?
"The squadron was disbanded two months ago. I think you and I
both know the reason why. It had something to do with an officer
loosing
losing
Jeff eyed the still vibrating young lady.
'vibrating'? That evokes all kinds of naughty images. 'vibrant' perhaps?
"Do you snore?" Ona asked the diminutive Cindy.
"No. Do you talk in your sleep?"
"No."
"Fine. I now pronounce you roommates,"
Heh. Cute
He finished the first bottle and reached for another. He got
the feeling he'd better enjoy this moment of solitude. It was
probably going to be the last one he got for some time.
YOu got that right.
Very nice work. The prose was good and the story flowed beautifully.
Hopefully will get to the second chapter before too long. Been too long
since I'd read a Robotech fic.
D.B. Sommer