Chapter 7

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Someone was knocking on the door. So I got off the bunk and walked over to it, stretching the soreness out of my muscles. When I opened the door, I discovered it was that technician. He looked pretty ragged, and his uniform was an oily mess. He handed me a sealed courier's envelope and gloomily said, "This really should go to the commanding officer of your squadron, but, as far as I know, he hasn't returned to the Macross. Your Veritech has been returned to it's proper bay, but I couldn't find any information about the other Veritech. It's as if it never existed." 

"Thanks. What's in the envelope?" 

"I'm not sure, but I think it's the debriefing update," he replied. "I've got to get some sleep, Ma'am, so I guess I'll be seeing you around, right?" Sounded like he was trying to ask a little bit more than he dared. 

"Sure," I chuckled, "how about dinner tomorrow?" 

His eyes lit up and he grinned. "Yes, Ma'am!" he said, saluting before he turned back out into the main passageway. I could swear I heard him click his heels and start whistling once he was out of sight. 

My mood turned more sombre as I turned my attention to the envelope. It was addressed to the squadron itself, rather than the CO, and was stamped PRIORITY in red ink. I was sure I wasn't supposed to be reading this, whether I was Karl or not. So I figured I should try to find the CO. It wouldn't do to see him with my clothes in this condition, so I went back to Karl's bunk-box and changed into one of his uniforms. It was a touch large, but, with a belt, it would stay on. I put on my flight jacket and went to the door at the end of the hall, the CO's office, and knocked twice. No answer. I knocked again, but I still received no acknowledgment. 

"Hmm," I muttered as I tried the latch. It opened easily, and the room was unoccupied. It wasn't especially large, about half the size of the bunk room, with a bed at the far end, and a desk along one wall. "Nobody here." I eyeballed the envelope, curiosity burning within me... I sat down on the desk and opened drawers until I found a knife to open the envelope with. <Ah, here's one. Lessee what we've got here...> Inside the envelope was a stack of papers full of military mish-mash. A whole bunch of technical data concerning the enemy we were fighting and their capabilities, along with a set of casualties reports. 

"Oh god," I whispered as I went through them. Every pilot in the Nighthawks was either reported missing or confirmed dead, except for Karl... Me... Whatever. Even the CO had died, leading his squadron into battle. The Nighthawks, every one of them... were gone. After a few moments, I closed my mouth and focused on the paperwork. I had to figure out what to do, and maybe this debriefing information contained a clue. I had managed to get to a reference confirming that these were actually aliens that had attacked from outer space when the phone rang. Absently picking it up, I kept reading. "Hello?" I asked. 

"Hello, Commander Michaels?" the voice on the other end asked. 

"No." I stopped reading, "This is Lieutenant Landers speaking. The commander is dead. Right now, I'm the only one around to take this call." 

"Ah, yes. Well, this concerns you anyway, Lieutenant. The operations officer wishes to speak with you in the Ops office tomorrow at 0600 hours, concerning your squadron, and a Lieutenant Braywater has left a message for you here: Congratulations and thanks to the pilot of VF-117 and a note requesting that you report to him immediately. That is all I have that you're cleared to hear, Lieutenant." 

"Alright. Thank you, Sir. One question, though, if I may. Does it say where I'm supposed to report to Lieutenant Braywater?" 

"No, it does not. I have other calls to make, Lieutenant, so good bye." <click>"What an asshole," I mumbled. "Okay. I've got to find this Braywater fellow." I slid my chair over to the computer terminal further along the desk and turned it on. It came up instantly to a menu. <Hmmm... (2) Personnel Data. That looks like a good place to start.> I chose this option and entered in the information I had on Lieutenant Braywater, which wasn't much: a rank and a last name. It came up with some information, however. Looked like a personnel dossier. 

There was a bunch of information and a picture of him. I read the information quietly, "His name was Thallin Braywater, no middle initial. He's 5'9" and 190 lbs. 19 years old, red hair, brown eyes, caucasian." I checked the picture, "Hmmm, not bad looking, either. He's in the research department, but he's had flight training. Hmmm. The rest is classified." I tried a few commands, trying to dig it out. But it asked for a password. <Not a chance I'll ever guess that one,> I thought as I cancelled that operation. "Lessee. Ah, says here that he's most often located on deck 5b... that's the same place I saw that guy with wires running out of his head. No, that was his helmet. Coincidence? Not a chance." I printed out Braywater's picture and called up some general deck plans so I could find my way around. When everything was printed, I packed up the debriefing papers and left to find my way back down to deck 5b. 


[] 

When I got down there, there was nobody around. My Veritech was here, as was the cockpit setup the guy had been sitting in. I walked over to it, mucking my way through the foam. "When's somebody gonna clean this crap up?" I wondered aloud. 

The controls were a mess. A whole slew of red warning lights were flashing, and several of the screens had blown. The primary screen, however, was working. It displayed: 

< All files present > 

< All files pass corruption checks > 

< There is not enough room to install new core > 

< Delete system logs (Y/N) > 

< Building new hierarchy > 

< Building new core - please wait > 

"Hmm... He'll probably be back, so I guess I could wait for him here." However, my stomach, again, had different ideas. It grumbled at me and reminded me that I hadn't had anything to eat in a while. Throwing up what I had eaten certainly hadn't helped anything. "Okay, Braywater, my stomach outranks you, so you'll have to wait till I find the mess hall," I said as I left the room. 


[] 

The deck plans I had printed had the primary officer's mess on them, so I headed there. After I had eaten all I was allowed, I started my way back down to deck 5b. 

I was walking down a hallway towards one of the lifts, I spotted someone in a lab coat, pushing a wheeled table. Curious, I moved closer, trying to figure out what was up. Then I recognised the fellow doing the pushing. It was Lieutenant Braywater. He stopped at the elevator I was heading for and started pushing the button over and over, like he was in a hurry. 

I caught up with him and said, "Excuse me, are you Lieutenant Braywater?" 

I saw his shoulders tense through the coat, and I think I heard him mutter something to himself before he turned around. He looked really nervous, so nervous that he had gone pale and sweaty. 

"Yes, you are Lieutenant Braywater. I'm sure of it." I extended my hand and introduced myself, "I'm Lieutenant Jg Kay Landers, and I was told to report to you. And, er... You're welcome." 

He looked at my hand, nervous, and quickly saluted me. "I'm sorry, but who are you?" he asked. 

"Lt. Kay Landers," I replied and returned his salute. He was still confused, though. "Pilot of the VF-117," I clarified, and his expression changed. 

"Ah yes! Thank you for saving my Veritech. But, if you will excuse me, I'm in a bit of a hurry." 

"Sure thing, but which Veritech? I mean, I saved a lot of people today." I couldn't help how egotistical that sounded and instantly regretted saying it. 

"The VX-001. We were in the re-entry pod when it shut... when I went unconscious." 

"Oh yes, that was it. You're in pretty good shape considering how badly beat up your mecha was. Besides, I kinda figured you were the guy sitting in bay 5b with that cockpit thing." 

"Ah.. Oops... Er... Yes... That was me... But...," he was about to start on his explanation when the elevator doors opened behind him. "I'm sorry, but I'm really in a hurry, and if you don't mind, I have to go now," he said as he backed the table thing into the elevator. 

I stepped forward and put my hand on the door, keeping it from closing. "Listen, I'm sorry if this sounds rude, but I don't like being kept in the dark about things. I'm not going to let you go until you either explain this to me or promise to explain it to me at dinner... No... Lunch tomorrow in the primary officer's mess." 

He gave me a hurt look, but he said, "Alright. I'll meet you there tomorrow." 

I asked, "You promise?" 

He nodded and said, "Yes, I promise." So, I let the door close. 

I looked around and thought, <Looks like I'm going to be pretty busy tomorrow.> With that, I turned and headed back to the Nighthawks quarters. 

When I made it back to the Nighthawk's berthing area, I knocked, tentatively, on the CO's door again. Once again, there was no answer. 

"Ah well. No replacement yet," I whispered as I stepped into the primary berthing. It was still empty, I moved to Karl's bunk and went to sleep. 


[] 

"WHAT?" I yelped in surprise. 

"I said, I want you to replace Commander Michaels. We're short on capable pilots, and, since you seem to have proven you are capable, we're going to put you in charge of the Nighthawks." The Operations Officer looked at me sternly. 

"Well, Ma'am, I know the reports say that I did some exceptional things yesterday, but..." 

"But nothing, Lieutenant. Look. I don't have enough time on my hands for your humility, so why don't you go organise your affairs and think about your new responsibilities. We are currently training the replacement personnel for your squadron, so you have some free time until they're finished. I recommend you volunteer that free time for the reconstruction crews for Macross city and, since you were a test pilot for the Veritechs, you could also help out with the training of our new pilots," she paused and looked at me; I swallowed nervously. She then picked up a dossier and started flipping through it. "You will receive a listing of your squadron as it stands in two weeks, Lieutenant. When you get it, read it over and go meet your crew. Any questions?" 

"Err... No, Ma'am," I stammered. My mind was racing, looking for a way out of this, but I couldn't think of a coherent sentence, much less a workable plan. 

"Good. I have to start my shift on the bridge in fifteen minutes, so that will be all," she said as she stood up from her desk. Then she looked at me, paused, and said, "Dismissed." 

I immediately turned and rushed towards the door. Only stopping a moment when I remembered to turn and salute. As I hurried down the hall, I thought, <Oh my god! How am I gonna get outta this one?> Then I snickered to myself. <At least I didn't get in trouble for wearing my flight jacket over my dress uniform.>Once I had reached a safe distance from her office, I stopped and leaned against the passage wall, breathing heavily. <Squadron Commander... promoted to a full Lieutenant... new Veritech... Teaching Classes?> I moaned softly to myself. How was I going to teach something I didn't really know about myself? 

I had been guessing my way through a lot of the controls yesterday; operating almost entirely on pure intuition and luck. My brother had managed to sneak me onto the flight simulators three times, so I had known, basically, what to do, but not all the controls had been present in the simulator. And wasn't being suffocated by the fear of death in the simulator. I could never pull that off again. Not unless my life depended on it. 

"I wonder what they do to people who they court martial in space?" I wondered to myself. I shivered, thinking of a few possibilities. 

I took a few deep breaths and pulled myself off the wall. <Whatever happens, it'll be my own damn fault. But that's all in the future.> "I have a date to go on," I announced, starting down the passage again. 

Once I made it back to the Nighthawks' berthing, I stripped and stepped into the shower facilities set off from the bunk room. It was interesting, having an entire twenty-man shower to myself, and lonely, too. I couldn't help thinking about all the people who had died yesterday. All the wonderful lives that had been ended... finished... cut off by those damned aliens! I threw the soap across the room in anger. 

And, if they attacked again, more people would die. Maybe even myself, if I didn't do something about it. And I knew what it was I had to do. My life did depend on it. 


Forward to Chapter 8.
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