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From: Starrngr@aol.com
Full-name: Starrngr
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Date: Tue, 4 Sep 2001 04:44:51 EDT
Subject: [FIC][Robotech+AC]Tales of the Wanderer 2-11
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Not to argue with Elsa, but, Like Gryphon over at EPU, I've been malleted
quite firmly by my personal muse. The result? In the last 45 days I think
I've produced as many chapters of TotW 2 as I did in the first half of the
year! YIPES!
Anyway, here for your commentary is TotW 2-11: Wedding Bell Blues:
--
Starrngr -- Ranger HQ
HTTP://home.talkcity.com/TheSanitarium/Da_Muck/
"You wear a Hawaiian shirt and bring your music on a RUN? No wonder they
call you Howling Mad..." -- Doc' (As Rabid).
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<HTML><FONT FACE=arial,helvetica><FONT SIZE=3 FAMILY="SANSSERIF" FACE="Arial Rounded MT Bold" LANG="0">Not to argue with Elsa, but, Like Gryphon over at EPU, I've been malleted
<BR>quite firmly by my personal muse. The result? In the last 45 days I think
<BR>I've produced as many chapters of TotW 2 as I did in the first half of the
<BR>year! YIPES!
<BR>
<BR>Anyway, here for your commentary is TotW 2-11: Wedding Bell Blues:
<BR>
<BR></FONT><FONT COLOR="#000000" SIZE=2 FACE="MS Sans Serif" LANG="0">--
<BR>Starrngr -- Ranger HQ
<BR>HTTP://home.talkcity.com/TheSanitarium/Da_Muck/
<BR>
<BR>"You wear a Hawaiian shirt and bring your music on a RUN? No wonder they
<BR>call you Howling Mad..." -- Doc' (As Rabid).</FONT></HTML>
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Even though these things give you about as much legal coverage
as a G-string on a stripper, I am going to include it anyways.
Most of the characters in this story are the property of Harmony
Gold, and a whole lot of other companies who's names escape me at the
moment, and are used without their permission. However, since this
is a not for profit undertaking, I dont think its neccecary to worry
about it. At any rate, I'm so broke suing would be a waste of time.
The few original charecters in here are mine, so please ask before
using them in a fic of your own.
Comments and Criticisms welcome: E-Mail Starrngr@aol.com.
Flames will be promptly filed in file 13 and ignored. Previous
parts of this story can be found at: Ranger HQ:=20
HTTP://home.talkcity.com/TheSanitarium/Da_Muck/Libr/wndr/
AND at Sofaspud's Couch HTTP://www.sofaspud.org/
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Tales of the Wanderer: Book 2 - Wandering Aces Chapter 11: Wedding
Bell Blues.
The SDF-1 was once again a hive of activity; this time, though,
they were making love, not war. The impending nuptials of Max=20
Sterling and Miriya Padrino were on the forefront of most people's
minds. The few that weren't concentrated on defending the ship, as=20
always. Still, they rationalized that they were helping the wedding
preparations in their own way, by ensuring that 'unruly gatecrashers'
did not disturb the wedding, as they put it, often with a smile.
Muck was one of the latter... with the air groups' two top=20
pilots temporarily out of action; With Max as groom and Rick as Best
Man, Muck was running the air wing for the time being. He hadn't
been drafted for the job either, he'd volunteered, noting that he'd
been so rested and recuperated he had a raging case of cabin fever!
He'd also taken advantage of the chaos caused by the wedding to move
up his flight physical and flight re-quals; citing the need for=20
pilots who would not be involved in the wedding in some way.
All of this explained why he was now over on the Daedalus,
about to launch with a scratch team of twelve for Bar-Cap, while=20
everyone else was placing the final touches on the 'big do'. The big
D, as the squadrons assigned to it called it, was finally fully=20
operational again after the damage caused by the Zentraedi's
counterattack up the arm following a Daedalus maneuver, much to the
relief of the pilots stationed on Prometheus - the resultant=20
overcrowding had been a pain.
Muck looked around at his scratch team and sighed. Half of his
pilots were so green that this was their first sortie, and he'd been
hard pressed to find any seasoned pilots to pair them with. Eleven
thumbs-up met his visual query, and he sighed again before getting
taxi clearance.
He switched a side screen to a video feed and watched the 'honor
guard' assemble on Prometheus... that meant the bride and groom would
be arriving soon. However, the handler started waving him forward
onto the catapult, so he killed the feed, and wished the couple luck
as he taxied forward into 'the box'.
* * * * * * * * *
Bar-Cap on the SDF-1 could best be described as hours of numb
backsides punctuated by minutes of sheer terror. As his team=20
approached their patrol area, Muck hoped for the former, rather than
the latter. Especially with half of his pilots so damn green, that's
why he got on the radio one last time. "Ok people, listen up. On my
call, break by pairs and take up your patrol stations. You greenies
stay with your wingman no matter what... If any of you take off on=20
your own, you'd better hope the Zentraedi get you, because I will=20
give you such an ass chewing there won't be anything left to attach
your legs too when you get back! Hammer flight, Standby to break
by pairs and take station... Ready, Break!" Six pairs of fighters
spread out and twelve pairs of eyes scanned sensor screens and the=20
darkness ahead. Muck had the greenest of the green for his wingman,
and his next two most experienced pilots were at each end of the=20
spread; Muck hoped this would mean that no one was too far from=20
mutual support, if his memory was right, the bad guys were coming...
the only question was when.
He'd placed the feed from the SDF-1's early warning radar on the
center screen; and had just flipped from a close-up of his flight
to check spacing to the 'god's eye' view for the umpteenth time when
the first blips started to paint the edge. Two sweeps later that=20
sector was a single lurid green splotch, just as CIC popped up on a=20
side screen... "Hammer flight, CIC. Raid warning..."
"I see them, Sandy. Request permission for engagement plan=20
Jericho."
"Wait one..." It didn't take long, though. "Engagement
plan Jericho approved. We're scrambling everyone, hold line is=20
Indigo."
"Hammer lead copies Jericho to Indigo, out." Muck flipped
to the squadron channel. "Ok you apes, time to earn your pay. =20
Engagement plan Jericho. One salvo per fall-back, re-enforcement's
will be waiting at Indigo." Five half bored and six rather excited
rogers echoed back. The enemy was close enough now for the VT's=20
on-board radar to start tracking them, and Muck designated targets;
passing four to each pair of fighters. Muck watched the range close
until the targets were in sure kill range before giving the command
to open fire.
Twenty-four missiles screamed from the twelve fighters and found
their targets, but the VT's hadn't hung around to watch. As soon as
the missiles were away, they'd turned 180 and fell back under=20
after-burner to the middle bar-cap line, Mauve. The Zentraedi
pushed forward in pursuit of the flight, only to loose another two=20
dozen pods as the fighters of Hammer flight turned and launched
again.
The enemy had blood in its eyes now as it tore after the once
again retreating fighters, only to run into a solid wall of missile
launches as it reached the inner Bar Cap area Indigo. This time,
however, the fighters did not fall back; the fighters of Hammer=20
flight, re-enforced by the inner patrol squadron and the pilots from
the wedding surged forward into the killing ground.
In that swirling melee unit cohesion broke down, individual
wings and pilots turned and fired and lived and died. Muck had just
hosed down a pod with GU-11 fire, only to have an explosion behind
him announced the loss of his wingman. The enemy pod settled in=20
behind him, clinging doggedly through break and jink, closing in for
the kill. Just before the pod opened fire, Muck went to Guardian
mode and full deceleration, placing him behind the pod, just in time
to see its fundament belch flame. The pod, still intact, drifted
off otherwise lifeless as a blue-trimmed D model trainer flashed
past.
"That wasn't a kill, Max..." Muck growled.
"Nope, but he's still out of the fight," came the reply. "It's
time to put actions to words and stop the bloodshed. By the way,=20
thanks for the coffee pot."
"It's just a loner, Max. Fabrication has been so backlogged
they can't make yours till next week. Use mine till then." Even as
he was talking with Max, the probe brain he shared space with was=20
analyzing the results of Max's attack pass and displaying the target
point as well as the firing points to hit it from in one corner of=20
Muck's vision. A quick pass showed that it worked as advertised,
and Muck too started disabling pods with a vengeance. Yet, for every
pod destroyed or disabled, two more moved in from the rear of the=20
formation to take it's place. Slowly the defensive sphere formed
by the fighters contracted, drawing closer to the SDF-1, with the=20
massive Zentraedi battle-wagons moving in behind.
Then, much more suddenly than the attack began, it was over,
the battle-wagons recalling their mecha and falling back from the=20
SDF-1. For Muck, it was even more sudden and disorienting...
He'd found Rick in the chaos and formed up as his wingman. The two
of them were up to their eyeballs in pods one moment, locked in a=20
deadly dance of dodge and disable, then the next, or so it seemed,
space around them was empty. "Do we pursue, Boss?" he asked.
"Negative. We need to get re-organized first. Squadron=20
Leaders, Skull one. Get your flights back together and lets see=20
where we stand."
"Roger that, One. Hammer flight, Hammer lead. Check in."
By the time the SDF-1's defenders got everything re-organized,
it was clear that the enemy had broken off action, not just fallen
back to re-group. Hammer flight had been lucky... only Muck's=20
wingman had been lost. Every group had losses, but they were less
than Rick had originally feared. Hammer flight was low on ammo and
fuel, so they were recovered first, a relatively fresh squadron
replacing them on patrol.
* * * * * * * * *
Rick was relaxing in his cabin when Muck finally arrived to=20
bring him up to speed on the air group's affairs while Rick had been
busy with the wedding; not that Rick had any doubts about Muck's
judgement, but so that Rick was aware of the present state of ongoing
activities. Occasional sounds of cooking and general marital bliss
drifted through the wall from the Sterling's new quarters next door;
clearly the sound-proofing hadn't been installed yet.
Muck had just moved from general squadron updates to the status
of his ongoing development of the capitol ship strike plan when he=20
was interrupted by the beeping of a smoke detector. A concerned
check revealed that the detector in question was next door in the=20
Sterling's quarters. From the overheard conversation, it became
apparent that Miriya had accidentally added some cooking oil to the
coffeepot... was that wrong? A thumping noise distracted Rick from
the rest of the conversation... it seems that Muck was thumping
his head on the coffee table.
"What gives? You'd think it was the end of the world, Muck."
"I'm the one who gave them that coffee-pot, boss."
Rick smiled at that. Muck's coffee snobbery had made him the=20
butt of more than one joke in the ready room, but this was a touch
of over-reaction. "You'd think it was your miracle machine the way
you're carrying on."
"It is... or was, anyway. Fabrication couldn't make a duplicate
for the wedding in time because of all the other work going on...
so I lent Max mine until they could catch up." The pained look on=20
Muck's face as he finished the explanation was the final straw as=20
Rick broke down into hysterics at that.
* * * * * * * * *
The next three days were quiet; which was something of a mixed
blessing. The mechanics were able to make headway in replacing
the air group's physical losses... pilot losses were another matter.
And over those three days the feeling of waiting for the other shoe
to drop grew. By the time it did, in a way no one had expected,
tensions were wire tight.
Muck was one of the few unconcerned... about enemy intentions,
anyway. At the moment, he was up to his eyeballs in his own work.
He'd finally gotten approval to implement the capitol ship program
he'd been working on since his arrival in this fica; at the moment
he was down supervising a training simulation for those assigned
to the project. There had been some grumbling at first, because
the pilots he'd wanted were now quite senior in the air group=20
hierarchy. All had been flying combat since the SDF had arrived
at Pluto by mistake; the eleven chosen also had the most combat=20
experience in close proximity to capitol ships as well. The only=20
people exempted from his search were the squadron commanders;
in more than one case they'd been upset at loosing their best pilots
until it had been explained that this program would be in addition
to the pilot's normal flight duties.
Muck's ad-hoc attack squadron had unanimously dubbed him crazy
when he'd first briefed them on the project; that had changed to=20
crazy like a fox after the first few sims. The progress made had=20
been swift as well; these hardy survivors only needing to have it=20
explained what they did wrong once. Not to say that they always
performed correctly in the next sim, but it certainly was obvious
that they were aware of areas they needed to concentrate on. For=20
most everyone, that was electronic warfare... something they'd=20
normally had to deal with on the receiving end, not the delivery
end. Still, if Muck could just get one more week of training his=20
team, he was certain they'd be more than up to their task.
Muck had settled on attack groups of 3. One plane would make
the attack run on the engines, that being the most vulnerable
target. The other two would concentrate on fighter suppression
and electronic warfare, respectively. In addition, each pilot would
fly a Super VT, with a weapon load-out that would allow it to perform
all three roles, allowing a triad to take out as many as three ships.
That was the theory, anyway; he figured he'd be lucky to get one ship
per strike at the moment.
Any further practice (or authorial exposition) was cut short
by the all hands klaxon, calling the pilots to battle stations.
* * * * * * * * *
Muck wasn't surprised to find that he was the last person to=20
arrive at Skull squadron's ready room. However, it became apparent
that he had time to pull on his flight suit and survival gear,=20
because the squadron was not about to launch. Instead, the various
TV screens at the front of the room showed a single Zentraedi
warship, almost dead ahead of the SDF-1. As he finished dressing
for flight, a swarm of mecha came up behind the warship and flashed
on past, towards the SDF-1, only to be annihilated by friendly
fire from the approaching warship. Muck nodded to himself, a gesture
noted by both Rick and Max, who then wondered just what was about
to happen next. Both were certain that whatever it was, Muck knew...
but they couldn't ask with the other pilots of Skull present.
The ready room phone rang, and Rick picked it up. He listened
for a long few moments before he acknowledged the message, then=20
turned back to his assembled pilots. "Ok, we have orders. =20
Apparently, the approaching ship is requesting peace talks and wishes
to send over an emissary. We're going to provide an Honor guard to=20
escort him in... and to be ready in case this is some sort of trick.
Man your planes, but rules of engagement bravo-four are in effect.
Absolutely no weapon fire unless you're attacked first. Understood?"
The pilots of Skull grumbled a little, but relayed their=20
understanding as they got to their feet and filed out of the room to
man their planes. Last out was Muck, again, who stopped for a moment
to phone some last second instructions down to his plane captain.
This made it easy for the two leaders of Skull to corner him.
"Ok, what gives. You look like you've been expecting this,"
Rick observed.
"I don't think you want to know..." Muck hedged.
"Yes, we do," Max replied. "Miriya is going to be out there
with us... I need to know she'll be ok."
Muck read the expression in Max's eyes. "Ok. They really are
sending over an emissary. However, shortly after this meeting,
all hell is going to break loose." Max and Rick exchanged looks,
but the time pressures kept them from pressing further. As the three
pilots headed down to the hanger deck, Rick had one last question.
"Ok, so what's with the armament change?"
"Command's worried it's a Trojan Horse, right?" Rick would have
given Muck a piercing stare, was he not used to this by now. =20
Instead, he let Muck continue. "So, I'm gonna fly a Wild Weasel
load. Its el-int(1) pod and jamming gear should put that worry to=20
rest."
Max gave Rick a 'you asked' look, as the three pilots hurried
across the hanger deck to their fighters. The ordies were still=20
scrambling to change the armament on Muck's VT as they mounted up,=20
making him the last plane to be lifted to the flight deck. Still,
the long fight had paid its own dividends of a very real sort; Muck's
plane was loaded and on-deck before the rest of Skull had finished
launching. With the addition of Miriya as a pilot, some had grumbled
about who was 'lucky 13'... however the general consensus was that
whoever it was, it was someone ELSE.
"Combat Diamond, people." Rick snapped over the radio. "Let's
look professional. Muck, you're in the middle."
Skull's experience as a unit showed as the planes quickly moved
into a parade formation without comment; and held station on each=20
other with a precision that the Blue Angels of years past would have
envied; even with the addition of Miriya to the roster. The=20
formation turned gracefully and came to a halt midway off the flank
of the warship which had come promising peace; as if on cue, a single
pod launched from one of the ship's massive bays and flew a=20
non-evasive course for the formation. As promised, the pod had been
striped of all offensive weapons; in fact it only carried a single
secondary channel radio, one which could be easily jammed by Muck's
ECM equipment.
Muck didn't even have to make an 'official' report. As he=20
looked up from the secondary displays, all three comm windows were
open, showing CIC, the Bridge, and Rick. A single thumbs up was all
that was required with the others signing off before he said=20
anything; almost immediately Vanessa came over the audio channel
shared with the pod, instructing it to join up with Skull for escort
to the SDF-1. Skull squadron turned smartly as the pod formed up on
Muck's wing, escorting the pod back to the SDF-1.
Muck was caught as much off guard as anyone else when Sammy came
on the com-net just after the escort flight cleared the inner-most
defense perimeter. "Skull one-three, Skull will escort the emissary
the rest of the way in. You're signal is RTB, Buster."
"Skull one-three is RTB, Buster." Muck replied, his VT smoothly
arcing up and out of the formation before piling on burners and=20
heading for the Prometheus' landing pattern.
"Roger, Skull one-three," Sammy noted before snapping off the=20
com-channel. At the front of the formation, Rick raised a mental
eyebrow at all of this, but didn't worry to much. While Muck might
have been best placed to catch any tom-foolery the Pod might pull,
Max and Miriya were at the back of the formation, right behind the=20
pod. Rick figured that even without a warning from Muck, at best the
pod might get a single shot off before Miriya disabled it.
* * * * * * * * *
There was an MP waiting with a Jeep as Muck taxied his VT off=20
the elevator / airlock and into the Prometheus hanger deck, along
with a tow cart and his plane captain. Muck cut the engines and was
out of the cockpit as soon as it was open enough. As soon as he hit
the deck, the MP saluted even as Jake Grafton, Muck's plane captain,
handed him the sign-in board.
"Captain Thunders, sir," the MP explained as soon as Muck=20
returned the salute, "I'm Lt. Roberts. The captain wants you to be=20
part of the emissary's escort, Sir. If you'll come with me?"
"In my flight suit?" observed a startled Muck.
"I took the liberty of stopping by your quarters on the way=20
here, Sir. I have a dress uniform in the back; you can change while
I drive, Sir." This earned said Lt. a strange look, but Muck hopped
into the Jeep and had started peeling out of his flight suit even=20
before Roberts pulled out, tires squealing.
The jeep was equipped with flashing lights and siren, and Lt.=20
Roberts made use of them as the jeep roared down various lightly
traveled passageways. "Just what am I supposed to do, Lieutenant?"
Muck shouted over the wind noise and siren as he slipped on the high
collared turtleneck that went under the uniform tunic.
"Sir, Captain Gloval wants you to be the emissary's personal
escort and watcher, so to speak. He said you'd be best to catch=20
anything unusual, sir."
Muck snorted. "How did Maistroff take the news?"
"I think he almost had a stroke, sir..."
"I think I like you already, Lieutenant. Even if you are an=20
MP."
"Thank you, sir... I think," replied Roberts as the jeep pulled
into one of the main landing bays and pulled to a stop. The Pod was
already in, with the mecha of Skull squadron in battleoid mode at=20
port arms, forming a corridor through which the emissary's pod had=20
clearly just passed. The pod knelt and opened, revealing the giant
warrior inside, as Lt. Roberts wheeled the jeep around and left. The
fifty-foot warrior unfolded himself from the cramped confines of the
pod, and glowered at the mecha around him before a small reedy voice
spoke up from inside the pod. The warrior jerked as if shocked
by a live wire, and rumbled an apology in his alien language as he=20
turned back to the pod and lifted a rather small person by human=20
standards out and set him gently on the deck. Muck had been to far
away to hear the initial exchange, but he hurried over to greet his
charge. He'd gotten close enough to hear Minister Exedore's comments
about frail bodies and the impressiveness of full size Zentraedi
warriors when the PA crackled to life, calling everyone to attention.
A convoy of limousines, complete with bumper flags for the RDF
and the UEDC pulled up, between Muck and Exedore; Muck took his cue
and walked around to open the door of the lead Limousine, revealing
Col. Maistroff. He was rewarded with a poisonous glare, but=20
Maistroff said nothing, instead walking towards the emissary;
forcing Muck to fall in one step behind and to the right, as befitted
a junior officer, as other officers exited the limousines un-noticed
behind them.
Col. Maistroff closed to within two paces of Exedore before
stopping and coming to attention, capping it off with a sharp salute.
"Colonel Maistroff, Robotech Defense Force. Captain Gloval sends
his respects and welcomes you aboard the SDF-1."
Exedore nodded gravely before replying, switching to English
as he did. "Thank you. I am Exedore, Minister of Affairs." He=20
turned to Muck. "And who is this?"
Muck stuck out his hand. "Captain Thunders, USAF. I'll be your
escort while aboard, Minister."
Exedore eyed the proffered hand warily, giving Maistroff
a chance to step back in. "This is how we greet friends, Minister,"
Maistroff provided, and Exedore accepted the handshake. "If you'll
come with us, Captain Thunders will get you some more comfortable
clothes and take you to the captain." Exedore nodded at this, and=20
started to follow the pair of uniformed officers to the waiting
transport. An intermittent earthquake erupted behind them, and the
trio turned to see Exedore's pilot had started to follow as well.
"With all due respect, Minister," Muck noted, "Could you ask=20
your pilot to wait here on the hanger deck?"
Exedore looked at the small scale of most of the hatches on the
hanger deck and nodded in comprehension, before raising his voice
to address his pilot in Zentraedi. Maistroff took advantage of the
distraction to wave a couple of aides over and pass some instructions
as well. The trio climbed into the limousine, and the convoy pulled
out, leaving the two aides behind.
"Something to EAT? You have GOT to be kidding me!" the first
aide protested.
"The colonel may do a lot of things, but he doesn't kid. I'll
call rationing, you round up a couple of flatbeds," replied the=20
second...
* * * * * * * * *
As the convoy headed deeper into the SDF-1, Exedore took=20
advantage of the relative privacy of the Limousine to try and clear
up some of his growing confusion. "Excuse me, but I was under the=20
impression that, like us, your vessel only has one commanding
officer."
"That's right, sir," Muck replied, as Maistroff remained silent
and observed.
"Yet you were described by the same rank title," Exedore=20
continued.
"That's because I come from a different branch of the military,
that uses different rank designations, Minister. My rank is actually
more equivalent to a First Lieutenant aboard ship," Muck replied
with a twinkle in his eyes. "It confuses a lot of civilians as=20
well." Exedore nodded at this, staring out the window as the convoy
entered the hold containing Macross City. Muck took advantage
of that to change the topic. "If you'll look outside, Minister,
you can see Macross City. In fact, at the moment we're moving=20
through the central shopping district."
"Ah, yes," Exedore noted, drawing on the mass of information
gleaned from the various transmissions from the escaped=20
battle-fortress. "This is where you use something called Money to=20
requisition goods and services." Beside Exedore, Maistroff looked
to be containing a giggle behind his poker face, but the=20
expressionless expression held... barely.
Muck winked at Maistroff before taking back up the narrative.
"That's about as good a description as I've ever heard, Minister.
It's a little more complicated in practice, though." Exedore nodded,
and turned his attention back out the window. After a couple of=20
moments, he stiffened as if shot, snapping his gaze back into the=20
car; shuddering and breaking out into a cold sweat as he did. Muck
and Maistroff both snapped their heads around to look, catching
sight of the Miss Velvet billboard as Exedore finally got his next
words out.
"And that picture captain?" Exedore's tone of voice sounded
rather queasy. "Could you explain that for me."
Muck looked to Maistroff, but the answering glare told him; 'You
brought it up, You deal with it.' Sighing, Muck tried to explain.
"Now THAT is a complicated subject, Minister. I've been trying to=20
understand it for 18 years now, and I still don't know that much."
"Ah," noted Exedore, deciding that there could only be one=20
reason one couldn't learn everything about a topic. "I see. A=20
military secret of some form, I take it?"
Muck wasn't certain if Maistroff was about to tear his head off,
or burst from laughing at the way Muck was on the spot. "Um, Right,
Minister. Classified. Whatever you say sir," Muck agreed, as the=20
convoy raced towards the main conference room...
Continued in TotW 2-12: The Heavy End...
---------
(1) El-Int. Electronic Intelligence: Gathering information
about the radio, radar, and other electronic emmissions of an enemy.
--part2_7e.1a458eb4.28c5ee83_boundary--
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