Argh...been way too long since I posted anything with this.  Too much 
stuff going on.

Previous chapters are at http://templar.anifics.com/

Disclaimer: The characters within belong to Pioneer and Harmony Gold.
No profit was made from this work of fiction.

No Need For Protoculture
by Andrew Wilson

Chapter 15: Not Exactly "Lost in Space"

"Do you think people will ever get used to that scene?"

Tenchi glanced across the table at Ayeka, then followed her gaze across 
the street.  Max and Miriya Sterling were enjoying one of their mutual 
days off with their daughter Dana in one of New Macross' parks.  The 
couple was oblivious to the odd looks that others on the street and in 
the park gave them.  Even after two years of relative peace, couples 
like Max and Miriya were rare indeed.  Few people could forgive the 
destruction carried out by the Zentradi fleet.  Seeing evidence of the 
similarities between Zentradi and humans made many people uneasy, and 
Dana exemplified that similarity.

"Only if there were more like her," Ryoko commented. "Right now she's 
too exotic."

"Are you volunteering?" Ayeka timed her comment just as Ryoko was taking 
a sip of tea and smiled as the other woman started choking.

"Zentradi aren't my type," Ryoko growled.

"What about you, Ayeka?" Tenchi asked with a smile of his own. "I'm sure 
there are plenty of Zentradi men that would-" Tenchi cut off as a 
well-aimed chunk of potato from Ayeka's plate bounced into his mouth. 
Ryoko and Ayeka shared a laugh as he coughed and chewed his way through 
the morsel. "Then again," he conceded, "the biochemistry might not be 
right."

"Indeed," Ayeka said with mock gravity. "Of course, given the number of 
people that are being slated to depart on the SDF-2, my prospects would 
decrease next year.  Were I interested in such an affair."

"And how would you know who is getting shipped to Tirol?" Ryoko asked.

"Simple," Ayeka replied, "I asked the Admiral.  Since I am the 
unofficial ambassador from Jurai, I have a wonderful amount of access to 
information."

Tenchi's next statement died stillborn as his communicator chirped. 
"Masaki."

"Control," Commander Grant's voice replied. "Report to Admiral Gloval in 
the command tower by 0930."

The line clicked off, and Tenchi checked his watch. "Twenty minutes, so 
much for breakfast."

Ryoko smirked and quickly transferred the remainder of Tenchi's plate to 
her own.  Tenchi smiled and made his way down the street and caught a 
tram to the SDF-1.

*******

"Sit down, Captain," Admiral Gloval said as Tenchi entered the 
conference room.  The room was sparsely occupied with Tenchi, Gloval, 
Fokker, Hayes, and a commander that Tenchi didn't recognize. "This is 
Commander Thomas Forsythe.  You'll be working with him during the coming 
mission."

"Which mission, sir?" Tenchi asked. "I was under the impression that I 
would be taking on another group of academy grads for Hurricane."

"You will," Gloval replied. "After you and your officers play escort for 
a deep-space mission."

Gloval nodded to Hayes, who activated a projector.  A series of graphs 
and charts appeared behind her as she began speaking. "As you are 
probably aware, we have been making leaps and bounds in terms of our 
level of technology.  This advancement, however, has been largely 
limited to military systems.  Civil, medical, and information technology 
is largely unchanged in the past four years."

Tenchi nodded.  That had been one of Washu's pet projects for the past 
two years.  She had been holed up in what was left of her lab in an 
attempt to produce what amounted to trinkets, plans, diagrams, and 
samples for Lang and his people to mass produce and adapt.  The majority 
of her time had been spend in an attempt to divine the secrets behind 
Protoculture, the mysterious fuel of Robotechnology.  Those who knew 
Washu also knew to avoid her of late, as her tantrums of frustration 
were growing worse every week.

"With the help of the Galaxy Police," Hayes continued, "we have managed 
to broker a deal for a large shipment of needed supplies and materials. 
  But, they're not willing to journey this far from Union space."

The charts vanished and were replaced by a star chart.  A single point, 
over a hundred light-years from Earth, flashed in the center. "They are 
willing to meet us halfway.  We have reconfigured a Zentradi frigate to 
serve as a cargo ship.  The journey will take approximately one month 
objective either way, with two days allocated to the cargo transfer. 
Subjective time in the fold will be approximately two days either way."

Tenchi nodded. "And you want Hurricane to provide escort?  That sounds 
like a big job for a single squadron."

"Not exactly," Fokker explained. "You, Montoya, and Zaria will be in 
your Vindicators.  There will also be a small number of Zentradi forces 
in their mecha.  About a hundred, all told, with a mix of power armor 
and fighter pods."

"There shouldn't be any problems," Hayes said. "However, Admiral Makabi 
has informed us that several pirate bands are believed to have bases 
near the area of space the freighter will be passing through.  You 
should be prepared for trouble, just in case."

Tenchi nodded again.  The small mecha compliment would actually be more 
effective than number suggested if they encountered one of those bands. 
  Small, high maneuverability craft had fallen out of use centuries ago 
in the Galactic Union because of the inefficiency of sublight drives at 
such low mass.  The smallest ships used were gunships over a hundred 
meters long used for ground support operations.  Ryo-ohki was slightly 
smaller than that, but she possessed more armor and weapons that some 
heavy cruisers.  Juraian ships tended to be smaller that the norm, but 
even they never thought to develop strike fighters.  Which also meant 
that no one had defenses effective against such assaults.

"Who is in command of this mission?" he asked at last.

"You are," Gloval said. "For several months now we've been trying to 
consolidate the ranking structure, and eliminating the two separate 
hierarchies.  In addition, your work with Hurricane squadron has earned 
you a promotion."

Fokker pulled a small box from under the table and handed it across to 
Tenchi. "Congratulations, Commander Masaki."

*******

Tenchi was still staring an hour later, when the complete mission packet 
arrived at his terminal.  In fact, he barely noticed when Zaria and 
Montoya walked into the ready room.

"What gives, boss?" Montoya asked. "I got dragged in, slapped with a new 
rank, and told to come here."

"A new grade is cause for celebration or concern," Zaria stated. "And 
you were promoted two grades.  With the look on your face, I believe it 
is safe to assume that there isn't a party later."

"Hold on a moment," Tenchi said without looking up. "I'm waiting for 
someone else."

"New squadron mates?" Montoya dropped into a chair across from Tenchi. 
Zaria took one of the other seats at the four-person table.  The two 
other identical tables were unoccupied, since the squadron had shrunk 
from three four-man flights to the three of them.

"Sort of," Tenchi replied.

"Is this the right room?" A voice said from the ceiling.  Montoya and 
Zaria started as Tenchi felt a pair of arms snake around him. "I guess 
it is."

Tenchi sighed as his face threatened to break out in a smile. "Ernie, 
Zaria, this is Ryoko.  She'll be accompanying us."

Ryoko slid over into the unoccupied seat. "Nice decorations on the 
collars.  Aren't those navy insignia?"

Tenchi nodded. "They're consolidating things so aerospace personnel are 
on one scale and ground forces are on the other."

Ryoko nodded in return. "Things must be going well if they're able to 
worry about things like that.  So why ask me to be here?"

To answer, Tenchi swivelled his terminal screen around to face Ryoko. 
"What do you know of this area of space?"

Under the eyes of Tenchi's officers, Ryoko studied the chart on the 
screen. "Nope.  I think I only breezed through it when Yosho was chasing 
me.  Six months in a damaged ship, with no chance to repair and being 
chased by a fully functional royal ship didn't give me much time to see 
the sights.  And this far from civilization, a lot can change in seven 
centuries."

"Seven centuries?" Zaria asked with a raised eyebrow.  Ryoko simply 
smiled in reply.

"So," Montoya exaggerate a gesture to sweep his shoulder-length blond 
hair out of his face as he turned to Ryoko, "is that the reason this 
exotic lady phased through a wall to get here?"

"Phased-" Tenchi glared at Ryoko. "You were supposed to use the door!"

Ryoko shrugged. "I was running late."

"Wait," Montoya studied Ryoko a little closer. "Are you the same woman 
who has that black fighter?  The one that blew up that Zentradi 
battleship that tried to ram Breetai's ship last year?"

"A single fighter destroying a Queadol-Magdomilla-class battleships?" 
Zaria asked incredulously. "Impossible."

"Not only possible," Ryoko smirked. "But true.  It took almost this long 
to repair it, but I did it alright."

"Which is why she's coming," Tenchi said.

"Non-military personnel on a classified mission?" Zaria snorted. 
"Commander, are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"What, just saying I'm coming?" Ryoko said. "Not even asking?"

"You'd tag along anyway," Tenchi stated.

"Well, yeah."

Montoya finished skimming the mission while the others talked. "Looks 
pretty straight forward.  What're we trading?  I didn't think we had 
anything worth trading to the rest of the galaxy."

"Protoculture," Zaria stated.  Everyone else looked at her. "It's the 
only thing that makes sense.  The key to viable small craft.  The 
galactics have nothing approaching the power output, or the interface 
capabilities."

Tenchi nodded. "We're selling a sample.  Basically the power core of a 
Salan-class frigate that was partially salvaged two months ago."

"Tenchi," Ryoko said slowly, "even Washu has been pulling her hair out 
trying to figure that stuff out."

Tenchi smiled slightly. "Well, they did ask for it.  And in return we're 
getting medical supplies, construction and decontamination equipment, 
and communications hardware."

"When do we leave?" Montoya asked.

"Three hours," Tenchi replied. "If you have anything that might need to 
be taken care of in the next two or three months, get it done now."

"Ah the wonders of interstellar travel," Ryoko sighed with a smirk.

*******

She was waiting in the Monument City.  The new Tree of Life was a diner 
with a small stage in the corner for armature music acts.  No one 
questioned what qualified her to run a restaurant, given how well she 
was doing.  The servers and cooks were well paid, and the prices were 
decent.  Yet the food was the prime selling point, and the reason it was 
always crowded, from the first breakfast to the last late-night cup of 
coffee.

Tenchi stepped through the door and nodded to the man at the register. 
He in turn pointed to a door behind the counter.  No one objected as 
Tenchi stepped behind the counter and into the small office.  The woman 
behind the desk looked up as Tenchi entered and a broad smile spread 
across her face. "Tenchi!"

"Hi Sasami," Tenchi gasped as Sasami bound his arms in a bear hug.

Sasami backed away a step and studied Tenchi. "You're going on a 
mission, aren't you?"

Tenchi nodded. "I shows, doesn't it?"

"How long?"

Tenchi shrugged. "Two months or so."

"Then I'll see you when you get back," Sasami stated.

"How are things holding up here?" Tenchi asked.

"Good," came the reply. "Business is picking up, and there haven't been 
any problems with the malcontents in this area."

Tenchi gave a sigh of relief. "I'm glad.  With all the reports of 
trouble coming in, I was afraid something might happen here."

"No, and many of my customers are glad for that.  Shall I tell Ayeka 
that you stopped by?"

Tenchi shook his head. "No, that's alright.  I already talked to her 
back in Macross.  Just take care."

Sasami nodded. "Tell them I still love them."

"Who?" Tenchi asked.  Sasami simply smiled in return.  That smile creped 
Tenchi out every single time.  Two years before, when Sasami and Tsunami 
had merged under stress, the new Sasami had lost much of Tsunami's 
powers.  When asked, she said that she might regain them in time, though 
if that meant months or millennia was the question.  But in place of 
those powers, she had a sort of awareness over things that spooked everyone.

*******

Tenchi's Vindicator shot out of the atmosphere and automatically 
adjusted to space as his two wing mates formed up. "This is Hurricane 
lead calling Na'tok, requesting clearance to land."

A human voice chimed onto the circuit. "This is control, welcome aboard, 
Hurricane.  Follow the beacon in."

Tenchi's flight remained in formation as they passed through one of the 
remaining launch ports and into the dorsal hanger.  Theirs were the only 
human mecha in the hanger, as the walls were lined with fighter pods and 
suits of power armor.  As one, the Hurricanes switched to Guardian and 
eased into the marked spots on the hanger deck.

Forsythe was waiting beside a human-sized hover platform when Tenchi and 
his lieutenants finished shutting down their Vindicators.  Tenchi walked 
over first, and, in homage to an almost-dead tradition, saluted.

"Permission to come aboard, sir?"

Forsythe returned the salute with a slight smile. "Granted.  Though I 
think I should be the one saluting you, Commander."

"I'm the mission commander," Tenchi clarified as the four officers 
boarded the platform.  The platform shot across the hanger on a path 
that Tenchi hoped would lead to the bridge. "On the other hand, you're 
this hunk of junk's skipper, so I guess we're even."

"Only because the bridge was holed during the Rain of Death," Forsythe 
replied soberly.

Tenchi nodded.  The fact that the bridge was the only damaged portion 
prompted the move to repair Na'Tok and put it into service as a courier.

The platform slid smoothly to a halt just outside a set of human-sized 
blast doors.  Beyond that was a bridge blister very similar to the 
SDF-1's command tower, inside a hollow space where the original command 
deck had been.

The tactical officer spoke up the instant Forsythe stepped though the 
doors. "Captain, we've got a faint signal on an intercept vector."

"Where?" Forsythe responded quickly.  He crossed over to the main 
display screen as a fuzzy circle appeared dangerously close to the ship.

"Open the hanger," Tenchi advised.

Forsythe spun around. "We're not expecting anything like--"

"I am expecting it," Tenchi replied. "Open the hanger.  Trust me."

The other man nodded, and passed the order on.  The blur gained 
definition as it came closer to the frigate, but its identity was still 
a mystery as it entered the hanger.  Visual sensors had revealed little 
more than a small blur that blocked out enough stars to reveal its 
presence, but not its shape.

The black shaped resolved into a sleek metallic form as it entered the 
hanger.  The fighter with forward-swept wings calmly settled on the deck 
next to Hurricane's Vindicators.  No one attempted to stop the 
green-haired pilot as she strode forward to the main corridor.  There 
were several stares as she took off flying, and even more when a small 
ball of fur followed her.

"Misaki?" Forsythe asked.

"A friend," Tenchi replied. "Someone who knows a bit more about what 
might be waiting for us out there.  And an ace in the hole in case 
anything goes wrong."

"Just a friend?" Ryoko inquired as she materialized beside Tenchi. 
"Should I tell Ayeka that you're back in the market because you think 
that we're just 'friends'?"

"Urr," Tenchi mumbled. "I mean...that is...I didn't mean it that way!"

"You're on your own, Misaki," Forsythe said with a grin as the ship folded.

End Chapter 15


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