Chapter 3

[Time Hack - Saturday, 27 June 2009, 1537 hours, Macross City]

<Oh, man, I'm in it deep this time!> David silently fumed as another blast of canon-fire from the pursuing alien's craft tore a ragged line of holes through the right wing of his fighter. David jinked hard right, then left, then right again, and then straight up, but the alien kept right on his tail. <Can't shake this asshole!> He thumped on the communications panel, but the indicators looked back at him with baleful red eyes, almost taunting him. Desperate, he pushed the stick forward, bringing the hybrid-form aircraft into a steep dive. <Guess I'm on my own. God, if you spare me on this day, I'll never climb into one of these things again. I swear it!>

Something off to his left glimmered, catching David's attention. He looked closer - an aircraft of some sort was approaching rapidly from his left flank. David despaired for a moment, afraid that more aliens were closing in on him, until the other craft got close enough for him to make out details. "Wha... it's one of ours! YEEHAA!"

The approaching friendly was moving fast, David saw. Too fast - it was maneuvering in ways that he wouldn't have thought a living pilot could stand, if he weren't seeing it with his own eyes. As he watched, the approaching Veritech fired two missiles in David's general direction. <I hope he's aiming for the alien and not me.> David mused. Almost as soon as the missiles were fired, however, the approaching Veritech overtook them - rolled to avoid hitting its own missiles - and shot between David's Veritech and the alien craft that was pursuing him. There was a brilliant flash of light from behind, and David Veritech was buffetted by a hail of debris.

<Must've got 'em.> David realized. He turned to see where his rescuer had gone, but the other Veritech was racing away, heading in the general direction of the civilian shelters. <Do angels fly fighter planes?> he wondered, sparing a glance around as he eased the fighter out of its barely-controlled dive. Much to his surprise, the SDF-1 was once again rising skyward - this time on what appeared to be conventional rockets of some sort. Adjusting his trajectory so that he passed far to the rear of the rising ship, David watched in awe as the immense vessel clawed its way towards the heavens above. It was a humbling sight.

David faced forward again and began a quick check of his aircraft's systems, mumbling to himself as he did so. "Good, good, not good, not-so-good, good, not good, not... what's this?" There was a photograph tucked into one of the many nooks in the instrument panel. He pulled it from it's hiding place and examined it. It was a picture of a rather attractive young woman dressed in an RDF uniform, standing with an older couple. Several drops of blood marred the picture, and he gently wiped them away. He held the photo up and took a better look - his attention focused on the young woman. The dark hair, the style in which it was cut, the shape of her face - he remembered her. <My God. The original pilot of this fighter.> He turned the picture over. On the back was written, "Mom, Dad & Christina. Graduation Day, 10/5/08." <Christina. Her name was Christina. Christina Leeds.> David slipped the picture back into it's hiding place and sighed, a chill running through him. <How many other families have lost their children today? And how many more will lose them by the end of the day?>

[Time Hack - Saturday, 27 June 2009, 1549 hours, Macross City]

High above, the SDF-1 was little more than a small sliver of light on top of a dissipating column of smoke. <Now maybe the aliens'll get the hell outta here.> David thought as he brought his aircraft around in a slowly shrinking circle over the shelters he had left not more than fifteen minutes ago. The smoking remains of both human and alien craft littered the ground all around, but it appeared that the aliens had failed to inflict any major damage to the shelters themselves. He looked around a bit more until he found what he was looking for - a human body, lying outstretched upon the ground.

Right where he had left her.

David eased the throttle back and slowly depressed the foot pedals, bringing the aircraft to a hovering stop roughly ten meters from the dead woman. He set the Veritech down upon the ground and set the throttle to 'idle.' Raising the canopy, David spared a quick glance around before he climbed out of the cockpit and jumped down onto the ground. Muted explosions and the chattering roar of cannon-fire echoed off of the cliffs. <The fight's moved to a different area.> he concluded. <So much the better for me.>

The woman - "Christina", he reminded himself - lay exactly as he had left her when he had pulled her from the damaged aircraft. He stood there gazing down upon her for several moments, amazed at how peaceful she looked, even in death. Steeling himself, he bent down and picked her up as gently as he could then proceeded to stumble back to the waiting plane. He walked slowly, ignoring the blood that he could feel soaking through his shirt and pants, more concerned with not to dropping her than he was with his appearance.

After several minutes of agonizing indecision, her body wound up in the cramped area behind the pilot's seat - the same space that had produced the shrapnel that had killed her. He situated her as best he could, not wanting to jostle her around any more than necessary. As an after-thought, he took the graduation picture and placed it in her breast pocket. <At least your family won't have to wonder what happened to you. Now all I have to do is get us someplace safe.>

David threw himself into the pilot's seat and strapped in. Slowly increasing the throttle, he rose high into the air and rotated the Veritech in a slow circle. <Damn!> he cursed, as one of the still-beleagered shelter areas came into view. The aliens had managed to wipe out all the defenders but one - a lone Veritech in robot form stood bravely before one of the shelters, facing down seven of the enemy's egg-shaped machines. <Don't those bastards ever give up?>

He did a quick check of his fighter's weapons. The ammunition counter for the cannon still showed empty. <Great. Out of ammo, out of luck.> Then his head snapped to the left. <Good God! I forgot about the missiles!>

Indeed, two missiles remained on the pylon mounted under the left wing. David quickly scanned the controls in front of him. <That looks like the right one.> he thought as he depressed a button on the control panel. He was rewarded with an electronic warble in his helmet. <Ah... missiles armed and ready.> Unfortunately, the display panel was shorted out. He couldn't tell just what type of missiles they were, or what they were targetted for. <Hope these are smart weapons. Don't want to shoot a good guy.>

David kicked the throttle to maximum and dove down at the mismatched standoff below. The warble in his helmet squawked and became an angry growl. <Locked on!> "Yeee Haaa!" he shouted, depressing the firing stud on the stick. The two missiles sprang to life and shot away from the fighter, angling down towards the formation of alien war machines. Several of the aliens began to turn towards him as the missiles struck. Two of the eggs erupted into balls of fire and smoke, and another was knocked backwards by the double-concussion. David pulled up and allowed himself a grim smile. <Three down! Take that, you murdering bastards!>

Blue beams of energy streaked past his fighter as David climbed higher into the air. He had climbed to nearly seven thousand feet when his fighter shuddered, then bucked savagely, a deafening explosion filling his ears. The weapons control panel erupted in a shower of sparks and smoke, and a good number of the system indicators began flashing red. David quickly surveyed the damage and cursed. The left engine had taken a hit, and the resultant explosion has apparently damaged the fighter's control systems. Furthermore, the right engine was showing a slow decline in thrust. He was considering his options when he noticed - much to his great surprise - that the indicator for the comm system had winked back to green. "It must be my lucky day." The fighter unexpectedly heeled over the the left and David had to fight savagely to get it back to some semblance of level flight. "Then again, maybe not."

He slapped the comm switch. "This is Vee Tee One Three Three, to anyone who can hear me. Mayday! I repeat, mayday! I've taken hits from alien craft and am on the verge of losing all engine power. Controls sluggish, ejection system damaged." <What do I say now?> "Ummm.... can someone please help me?"

There was a burst of static, and then a distorted female voice came through the speaker. "Roger, Vee Tee One Three Three, this is SDF-1 control. We read you. Can you divert to the Prometheus?"

David glanced down at the island below. The supercarrier was on the other side of the island - a long distance away. Besides, he didn't relish the thought of landing on the rolling deck of an aircraft carrier - he preferred to leave that sort of thing to pilots braver - and more experienced - than himself.. "Negative, SDF-1 control. I don't think this plane'll last long enough." There was small gout of sparks from the vicinity of the left air intake, and smoke began to fill the cockpit. "I need to get this plane down, and fast!"

The woman's voice came back. "Roger, Vee Tee One Three Three. SDF-1 is now descending over Macross Island. Rendezvous and land at bay One One Five. Crash crews will be standing by."

David looked up. <Yep, there's the fortress. Only one problem...> "Ma'am, I don't know where landing bay One One Five is."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" the woman replied, sounding slightly annoyed.

<She's gonna love this.> "I'm not the original pilot of this plane, ma'am." David said as evenly as he could. "The pilot's dead, and I'm just a civilian."

There was a noticeable pause. "A civilian? In a military aircraft? Not again.... very well, I'll assign a Veritech to escort you to the landing bay. And you'd better have a good explanation for all this, whoever you are, MISTER civilian!"

"Thank you very much." He replied. <Damn witch. What did I ever do to her?> More indicators winked to red, and David was finding it harder to keep the plane level. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw that he was leaving a long, grayish contrail of smoke behind him. "Great...now EVERYONE can see me!"

A burst of static from the speaker caused him to jump slightly, and the plane quickly rolled to the left. "Aw, dammit!" David cried, hauling back on the stick. He righted the plane after a few moments of cursing and grunting, then noticed another fighter to his right, flying alongside him in hybrid form.

"Vee Tee One Three Thr-<static>-s is Vee Te-<static>-ive Four, and I've been assigned to escort you to landing bay One One Five. Do y-<static>-opy?" David looked at the other fighter through his own smoke-shrouded canopy. He could make out the pilot head, but little else.

Keying his own mike, David gave a thumbs-up. "Roger that. But you'd better hurry." He coughed. "My engines are running in the red, and the cockpit's full of smoke. I can barely see where I'm going."

"All right. F-<static>-me." the other pilot said, slowly pulling ahead. David followed as best he could, fighting the controls more and more strenuously as the fighter slowly lost power and maneuverability. The SDF-1 was in front of him now, and he saw that the other Veritech was leading him towards the aft section of the mighty vessel. "Landing bay doors openin-<static>-ee it?"

David squinted through the smoke-clouded canopy. He saw a massive hatch opening in front of him. <So that's what those sections are for.> David took a deep breath, coughed it back out, and sighed. "I see it. I'm going in."

"Roger." the other pilot replied, veering off sharply, and then coming to a hovering stop near the bay. "Good luck."

David brought his Veritech around so that it was aimed more squarely at the landing bay. A whining sound grew noticeable over the din of alarms and the tortured roar of the right engine. The fighter began to vibrate violently. "Only three hundred feet to go!" he chanted. "C'mon, baby, don't let me down now! Please!" He hauled back on the stick as the Veritech began to roll to the left. "PLEASE!"

Then the other pilot's voice burst over the panel speakers. "Enemy fighters approaching fr-<static>-asive maneuv-<static>."

David saw the other Veritech change back into a fighter and rocket upwards. <Uh oh.> David moaned, following the fighter with his eyes. "I'd better ge-YEEP!"

A missile streaked down towards him, and everything seemed to go into slow motion. He saw the missile as it struck the very tip of his fighter's nose, the blossoming colors of the resulting explosion nearly blinding him. He screamed, but there was no sound except for the roaring thunder of the detonation. The fighter swung forward and down, began tumbling end-over-end. The whine of the right engine increased to a piercing shriek which erupted into the furious roar of another explosion.

David was thrown about in his seat by the sudden change in his aircraft's momentum - the plane was now cartwheeling out of control. The view outside the canopy flashed by like some sort of psychedelic movie. Blue sky. The SDF-1. Smoke and fire. Macross City far below. A rather picturesque view of the sea. His Veritech's right arm, still holding the empty weapon pod, spinning away, trailing sparks. The other Veritech - the one that had been assigned to lead him to the landing bay - engaging a green cone-shaped enemy fighter. The landing bay. David could make out the running figures of the crash crews as they scrambled to get out of the way of the careening aircraft. The landing bay loomed large in his sight, and then there was a tremendous impact. The piercing screech of tearing metal. Sparks and smoke and fire and shrapnel. He was being thrown like a rag doll against the safety straps of his seat. The canopy shattered around him. Intense heat on his arms, legs, and chest as the control panel burst into flame. A sharp, slicing pain in his left leg. The smell of melted plastic, burnt wiring, over-heated metal. The pungent odor of ozone. The tang of blood in his mouth. Something struck his helmet, rocking his head back. His vision blurred and his ears rang. Then, quite suddenly, the violent jerking stopped, and he was bathed in silence.

Slowly his senses returned. He could hear the crackle of something burning, then a barrage of shouts and sirens and the rumble of a multitude of running feet. The sputter of extinguishers. Icy cold against his neck, his hands, his legs. Rough hands upon him, fumbling with the straps that held him, removing his helmet, pulling him from the crumpled cockpit.

"Jeee-zus! This guy's still alive! Someone get a stretcher over here, now!"

"How's he look?"

"Like someone who just wrecked a Valk. Lucky for him the cockpit section detached on impact, or he'd've been crushed along with the rest of it."

"Hey, Sarge! We got another one back here!"

"What? Where?"

"Back here! Look, right... aw, geez. She's all tore up, Sarge."

"Well, get her out of there!"

"Buddy! Hey, buddy! You're gonna be just fine - just hang in there, okay?"

David blinked clouded eyes at the shadows above him. "Am I dead?" he groaned.

"Dead? Hell, no, you aren't dead! You're on the SDF-1."

David sighed. "I made it, then?"

"You sure did. Damndest thing I ever saw."