Subject: [FFML] [Battletech/Robotech/Foundation trilogy] Robotech: Foundation Prologue A
From: arun prabhu
Date: 11/3/2002, 7:22 PM
To: ffml@anifics.com


I have already sent his file to the ffml once, but
just incase you do not remember it, here it is again.
^_^

SMARTALECK PRODUCTIONS

Robotech: Foundation

<A Robotech/Battletech/Foundation Trilogy by Isaac
Asimov Fusion/x-over set in an Alternate Universe.>

Prologue 1 <Revision V *shudder*>

Disclaimers:

Robotech is the property of Harmony Gold limited and
I'm only borrowing their characters and Universe for
the purposes of this story. This story is being
written with the express permission of the people at
Harmony Gold. So... :p

Foundation Trilogy was created by his Almightiness,
the one and only Isaac Asimov himself. This work is
but a tribute to him and the wonderful works of
science fiction that he brought into our lives.

Battletech is owned by FASA. Again, this is but a
tribute and no harm is intended by this fan fiction.

Warning:

Some dates will be changed for the purposes of this
story. And you won't recognize most of the characters,
even the ones you know. Heck, if you're planning on
seeing Rick or Roy Fokker duke it out with the
warriors of Draconis Combine, leave. This is a fusion
first and a crossover second.

Author's notes:

I got the core of this idea [The _SDF-1_ traveling to
the future part] from a guy called AllWhacked on the
Delphi forums. I would like to thank him for coming up
with this wonderful idea.

C&C are welcome. Hope you enjoy the story...

***********************************************************************

For centuries, the Robotech Empire had been in
shambles. Caught between its mortal enemies, the Invid
and the Disciples of Zor on one side, and a shortage
of Protoculture, its main energy source on the other,
the Empire fought a losing battle.

Disillusioned with the state of affairs within the
Empire and the way it continually abused his
discoveries, Zor Derelda, the founder of
Robotechnology, decided to take matters into his own
hands. He hatched a plan: Steal the last store of
fertile seeds of the Flower of Life, the progenitor of
Protoculture, from the Empire and fold to parts
unknown.

His goals were noble: peace and prosperity for all.
However, peace never comes without a price and the
price must always be paid with blood...


Command Tower _Macross_
Macross Class Border Fleet BattleFortress
0.57 Light seconds from Epsilon Androni III
February --, 1999 1238 Local time

The battle had been raging for five hours now and
slowly, the tide was turning in favor of the Invid,
much to Zor's consternation.

He was not yet fully prepared to seek refuge on Earth.

"Launch Bay #2 reports that a contingent of Invid
Iigaa units have broken through the airlock. They're
being engaged as we speak. Zulewesi Urseman reports
that he and his men will be able to drive them back."

Zor Derelda nodded once at the technician.

"Acknowledged," he said. *This is taking too long. We
have to leave now, or the Flowers will fall into the
hands of the Invid,* he thought as the situation
became increasingly hopeless. He raised the Zentraedi
commander Breetai on his VID-COM.

"Breetai?"

"Yes, Zor?"

"Tactical situation?" he asked, gruffly, abandoning
his manners for the time being. There would be time
enough for that when the battle was over.

"Zor, this is a losing proposition. There's almost no
hope of us getting out of this situation alive," the
thirty-foot Zentraedi warrior reported.

Zor glanced at the VID-COM screen and nodded.

"Tell me something I don't know, Breetai."

The thirty-foot tall giant Zentraedi warrior nodded
curtly.

"You have to escape, Zor. Your survival is paramount
to the survival of the empire," he said.

Zor sighed.

"I know... I just... Very well, we will begin
evacuation procedures immediately... Send an escort to
pick the crew up and transport them to your ship."

"Zor?"

"There is no time to explain. I shall reveal all when
this battle is over." Zor intended to do nothing of
the sort, but it would keep Breetai from voicing his
objections for the time being.

Breetai nodded.

"As you..."

Zor never got to hear the end of the sentence as a
invisible pulse of laser hit the VID-COM and destroyed
it.

Startled by the explosion, Zor brought his arm up to
protect his eyes from the flying debris as his
reflexes took over. When the rain of polymer and metal
stopped, he turned around to see an Iigaa floating
directly behind his hover-platform.

Time slowed to a crawl. Zor vaguely heard someone
screaming 'Get down!' in the Tirolian tongue. He
jumped to the side, but it was already too late. An
over zealous guard, in his rush to neutralize the
Iigaa, did not pay attention to the fact that Zor was
directly in his line of sight and fired. Zor could
only watch horror-stricken as two self-contained
spheres of plasma raced towards him. One missed him,
ionizing the air it flew through, and exploded against
the hover platform. The other too, like the first,
missed the target completely and hit very close to the
weapons command console, which stood behind Zor,
incinerating everything within a radius of four feet.

Zor felt the searing heat as the spheres passed him
and managed to breathe a little prayer of thanks to
the Gods before the blast hit. The concussion wave
threw him into the air, carrying him, pushing him
around with its buffeting winds. Metal fragments,
ejected into the air at high velocities by the
exploding console and hover-platform hit him all over
his body, perforating his exposed back, cauterizing a
small part of the wounds as they tunneled their way
in.

Zor's mind blacked out in agony as the burning spikes
of pain hit him. His mouth opened on its own accord to
scream, but the blast had knocked the air out of him
and he found himself unable to make a sound.

Then, almost as soon as it had started, it was over.
The Iigaa fell, leaking a growing puddle of green
ichor through its sensitive optical unit, where a
third, more accurately aimed shot from the T'luaza
Milldiem 281 Model assault rifle[1] struck home. It
collapsed onto the floor just as Zor reached the apex
of his flight, regained his senses and begun his
journey down.

Time sped up to its normal pace once again, and Zor
blinked, stray locks of hair flickering in the gentle,
unfelt wind as he fell. He tried to blink, and the
lights in the room seemed to dim and brighten
alternately. A spike of pain shot through his body and
he involuntarily closed his mouth. He hit the cold
metal floor with a dull thud and thin crimson jets of
blood fountained out of his mouth, scattering little
droplets of blood all over.

"Zor!" one of the technicians, the bravest of the lot,
cried as he ran forward to help the fatally wounded
scientist.

Zor turned his head slightly from his prone position
on the cold metal floor to look at the man and smiled
through the haze of pain, just before a convulsion
wracked through his body. There were gasps all around
as crimson fluid begun to pool in large amounts around
the scientist's body.

The technician took Zor's head in his hands and
cradled the scientist in his lap, smoothing the burnt,
blood matted mane of dark blue hair.

"Hrreerrr..." Zor hissed, opening his mouth to speak,
but failing to do so. Blood, mixed with saliva, flowed
in copious amounts from his mouth, making speech
impossible.

"Shh!" the technician said, the others finally
crowding around them, trying to staunch the flow of
blood from Zor's innumerable wounds. "Hold on, Zor!
You'll survive this... You got to!"

Zor shook his head, slowly. He knew that he was done
for. He was certain that not even the miracles in
medicine his discovery had spawned through the
centuries could save him from the terrible wounds
inflicted upon his person. With great difficulty, he
held up his right hand, spread his fingers out and
closed them in a prearranged signal.

The medics arrived just then, pushing past the crowd
and relieving the people who were staunching the flow
of blood.

The technician rose, leaving Zor under the care of the
medics and his colleagues. Zor's eyes followed him
pleadingly, begging him to do his bidding. There was
no time to waste, Zor realized as the medics attended
to his wounds; he could feel the light in the room
dimming steadily - a sure sign of approaching death
-even as he tilted his head.

Finally, the technician looked down on his mentor and
nodded.

"It will be done," he whispered and moved over to the
command console.

In spite of all his pain, Zor smiled blissfully before
closing his eyes forever.

"Rakhal," the technician said. "Order the evacuation."

Rakhal, a young blue-haired man stood up, blood
smeared all over his hands, face and uniform. He
looked at Zor's body for a very long second as the
medics tried to get his heart beating again. He
clenched his fists, looked at the technician and
nodded.

"As you wish, Fenegor," Rakhal said.

"I'll inform Breetai of Zor's death," the technician,
Fenegor, said and moved to the command console.

He tapped a sequence of buttons and Breetai's face
appeared on the console screen.

"Master Fenegor?" the Zentraedi said, confusedly. He
was accustomed to speaking with Zor directly; not his
protege.

"Zor's dead," Fenegor said, mechanically. "I entrust
you with returning his body and escorting the
survivors in this fortress to the home world."

Breetai nodded in shock.

"Good," Fenegor said and closed the link without
further adieu. It was rude, he knew, but he did not
dare waste precious time with civilities. "Iv'ha?"

"Yes, Master Fenegor," the sentient AI in the ship
enquired.

"Initiate plan Alpha-Niner-Tango-Zulu-Mark."

"As you wish."

The fold siren begun to sound throughout the ship and
Fenegor closed his eyes. *It's finally done. An era
has ended and a new one has begun.*

There was a whoosh and a rumble as the bridge
separated from the rest of the ship. Huge
gravitational forces created by the sudden
acceleration experienced during the separation pushed
blood away from his brain and into his extremities,
and Fenegor knew no more.

***********************************************************************

Macross Island,
Pacific Ocean, Earth,
December 19, 1999 1513 Local time

It was a bright and sunny day. The sky was filled with
ivory-white, alluringly dancing clouds, and the air
was saturated with the soft, sweet fragrance of wild
flowers. It was a pleasant day and Macross could have
been a veritable paradise but for the three hundred
commandos in full battle-gear and camouflages, hiding
expertly all over the island.

Colonel Peter Blundell, one of those commandos, looked
through his range finder and cursed under his breath.
Capturing the Chinese research facility wasn't going
to be a walk in the park.

"Williams?" he whispered, clucking with his tongue to
grab Williams attention.

Williams looked at him and signalled his reply,
acknowledging his commander.

The Colonel responded with a set of gestures of his
own, ordering Williams to take point on a nearby ridge
with Jason.

Williams nodded and through a set of complex signals,
communicated the order to Jason. Jason, for his part,
tilted his head once in a nod and quickly joined
Williams.

"Expecting company, Colonel?" Jason asked, silently.

The Colonel nodded and placed a finger on Jason's
lips, silencing him. There would be no talking on the
field. Jason, being an experienced man should know it
better than anyone.

*This mission is getting on his nerves too!* the
Colonel thought silently.

Jason nodded and the Colonel made a set of hand
gestures. The last Chinese patrol had been too close
for comfort and he did not want to be surprised like
that again. Williams and Jason were going to provide
the early warning.

Jason nodded, curtly and replied with his own set of
hand signals, all the while smiling cockily.

The Colonel smirked and expertly spit a mouthful of
tobacco juice on the ground by Jason's feet. *Cocky
bastard!*

He made another set of gestures, telling them to tarry
no longer and haul their asses to the ridge.

The two SEALs grinned at him in reply and saluted.

"Yes, sir!" they whispered merrily, grinning from ear
to ear and begun crawling towards the ridge, a hundred
yards from the rest of the squad.

The Colonel looked at their disappearing forms, his
eyebrows creasing slightly. He knew that he had
essentially asked them to sacrifice their lives in the
event of a surprise attack and even though they
accepted their duty without complaint, he still felt
like shit for asking them to do so.

*Damn Chinese and their damned patrols,* he thought
bitterly, looking at the aerial reconnaissance photos,
recalling the intel he had been provided during the
debriefing and replaying the assault in his mind.

The CIA and the MI6 had through months of painstaking
work - work, which cost the lives of six officers in
the field - pieced together a puzzle that struck
terror into the hearts of the people at high command.
The Chinese were, on a small island in the pacific,
close to building a super-weapon that could make the
run of the mill Thermo-Nuclear weapon look like a
fire-cracker in comparison.

That small island, a little detective work later,
turned out to be Macross.

Hastily, the think-tanks in the Pentagon gathered as
much intel about the island and the Chinese force
based on it through bribes, torture, fly-bys and NSA's
intelligence gathering satellites. Now, two months
after the start of the nightmare, a plan to retake or
destroy the installation in the island had been
formulated: Capture and secure the facility and
research for themselves; or destroy it.

If the decision had been left up to him, the Colonel
would have ordered repeated nuclear bombardment of the
island, until he was sure that everything on it had
been vaporized into nothingness. In his honest
opinion, the world had more than its fair share of
weapons of mass destruction and did not need another
new, super-powerful one.

Unfortunately, it was not his decision to make and the
people in high command did not see things his way. The
American economic juggernaut was straining to keep up
with the enormous demands made on it by ten years of
continuous war and could succumb any day. They had to
win the war and win it soon, if they wanted the
economy to get back on track and the easiest way
achieve that would be to get their hands on the
doomsday weapon before the Russians and their Chinese
alliance could.

There were dozens of special forces units - from SEALs
to the SAS and everything in between - on the island
and at a prearranged signal, reinforcements of regular
troops numbering over three thousand would parachute
down from C-130s circling at a strategic distance from
the island.

The Colonel shook his head ruefully and focused his
attention on his range finder once more, scouring the
area thoroughly for Chinese patrols. He could not have
refocused his attention at a better time because if he
had been any later, three Chinese Red Army regulars
would have sneaked up behind Williams and Jason, and
made short work of them.

"Drake #3, three skunks are approaching you from six
o'clock," he whispered urgently into his mike. *How
did they get there?*

There was a brief pause filled with static.

"Roger that, Drake #5. Can you fry them?"

"Affirmative, Drake #3."

The Colonel clucked lightly with his tongue, drawing
the attention of his men. He pointed out Privates
Morgan and Cromwell and ordered them to 'fry' the
skunks.

The duo nodded and repeated the command, making sure
that they got it right and the Colonel replied in the
affirmative. They aimed their suppressed MP-5s,
released the safeties, set the trigger group to
'Frieden'[1], and sprayed a one and a half second
burst of automatic fire at the three skunks.

A sound, remarkably similar to the noise made when a
car door is rapidly opened and shut, echoed across the
ridge for the duration of the engagement and then, all
was peaceful once more. The Chinese soldiers, for
their part, convulsed for a few seconds as the hail of
bullets rained down on them before ceasing movement
altogether.

Their job done, the Privates reactivated the safeties
and nodded at the Colonel.

The Colonel tilted his head in acknowledgment and
pointed out Privates Ducasse, Marlowe and Morgan,
ordering them to dispose of the bodies with hand
signals. The Colonel and Private Cromwell would
provide the necessary cover. Cromwell moved into
position beside the Colonel while he communicated with
Ducasse about where they should hide the bodies. The
Colonel was so engrossed in the discussion that he did
not notice the tiny speaker inserted into his ear come
to life.

"Drake #5?" Williams repeated again, when he got no
reply the first time.

The Colonel took a deep breath to calm himself. He was
normally easygoing and gave his men a great deal of
leeway, but was prone to losing his temper when his
men interrupted him on the field. A second could mean
the difference between life and death in a battle.

"Yes, Drake #3?" he said, coldly.

"There's a fireball approaching us from the sky..."
Williams whispered into his mike.

"Huh?" the Colonel said, turning towards Williams.
"What did you say?" he asked.

Williams, now that he had the Colonel's attention,
reverted back to hand signals and informed the Colonel
to look up into the sky.

The Colonel, a little confused and wondering whether
Williams had lost it, looked up and got the surprise
of this life.

A bright yellow ball of fire, perhaps two football
fields in radius was descending upon them. The angle
of attack was too high for the fireball to be an ICBM
and even if it wasn't, the fireball was too big.
Something big and unexpected was happening that he had
no inkling of and it was putting the lives of his men
in danger.

Even as the Colonel and his men watched, the fireball
grew larger and neared.

"Preston!" Williams bellowed, throwing caution to the
wind and abandoning all decorum.

"Yes, Colonel?" the squad radioman said, crawling up
to the Colonel quickly.

"Call the Pentagon and tell them to order those C-130s
as far away from this island as possible," he said,
shooting a quick glance at the sky. The fireball had
grown to huge proportions in a short period of time
and the light from it was eclipsing the sun.
"Incoming!" he screamed at his men in warning. "Get
down!"

Roughly thirty seconds later, the Chinese doomsday
factory vanished, along with half the island in a
blinding flash of light. A huge, incandescent mushroom
cloud rose into the sky, sucking air as it rose higher
and sending a huge shockwave hurtling outwards in all
directions.

The initial flash of light from the Iso-thermal sphere
[2]- the fireball - died out, and then, the shockwave
hit them. It blanketed the island with scorching heat
and sucked the air out of their lungs, killing many.
The thunderous boom of the explosion reached their
position a few milliseconds later, shattering
unprotected eardrums and disorienting the survivors.
Finally, the light faded away and silence reigned in
the island once more.

The visitor had announced its arrival on Earth.

***********************************************************************

Notes: The super weapon I am referring to is not a
figment of my imagination. It can be built provided
mankind finds a way of harnessing zero point energy. A
single weapon, the size of a shoe can easily wipe out
the entire planet in this story (John Wheeler, the
celebrated physicist, calculated this a long time ago.
I'm taking his words on this one, though such is most
probably not the case.). How's that for firepower?

1 - Frieden means 'Peace' in German. This is a slang
used by the German armed forces to denote the
automatic setting in a trigger group. You see, it's
peaceful in the battlefield after you fire a
sub-machinegun set at automatic. ^_~

2 - Search the Net. I'm sure that you'll find
references to Iso-thermal spheres and such.

I'd like to thank Yanei Wu, Peter Blundell, Alexander
Cheezem, Jakub and Joseph Aguirre (Getzeye Dragon for
those of you Delphi forumites) for superior
pre-reading. They are the ones who made the chapter
what it is... I only smoothened the rough edges they
gave me. ^_^

__________________________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
HotJobs - Search new jobs daily now
http://hotjobs.yahoo.com/

             .---Anime/Manga Fanfiction Mailing List----.
             | Administrators - ffml-admins@anifics.com |
             | Unsubscribing - ffml-request@anifics.com |
             |     Put 'unsubscribe' in the subject     |
             `---- http://ffml.anifics.com/faq.txt -----'