Chapter 14

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An hour and fifteen minutes later, I was asleep in my chair. 

Another hour-and-a-half went by before I woke up again, lying on the floor. My back was sore and my arm had fallen asleep, and I didn't feel like doing much of anything but rolling over, but someone was knock-knock-knocking at my chamber door. <God, I hope it's not a raven. I've been dreaming about ravens,> I thought as I pulled myself up by my desk. As my eyes passed by my terminal screen, the screen saver had kicked in, and was bouncing a picture around the screen: the cartoon character that I had pulled out of Thallin's file. I stood up the rest of the way and staggered over to my office door. I leaned against it 

for a moment, trying to remember something I had forgotten, and then opened it. 

It was a man, younger than I, wearing a technician's uniform. 

I mumbled, "You're not a raven..." and closed the door in his face. Then, leaning against the door, I sighed, "Nevermore." 

A minute later, my mind suddenly snapped into gear. "What did I just do?" I asked myself. "I can't believe it... I wonder who that was." I pondered over such mysteries of life as I wandered into my quarters behind my office to change out of my uniform and into some civilian clothes: blue jeans, tennis shoes, red T-shirt with some rock band's slogan across it, and my favourite leather flight jacket. I was digging through my clothes chest for my scarf when someone knocked on the outer door. I yelled out, "Come on in! It's not locked." 

I heard the door open and I heard a familiar voice say, "You wanted to see me, Lieutenant Landers?" 

<Ooops. That's what I forgot,> I thought, grabbing my scarf from the chest. I called out, "I'll be just a second." Then I closed the chest and my closet, and walked into the front office. David Marshall was standing by my desk, looking at a photograph I had left by my terminal. It was the one I had acquired earlier today from Corporal Ditkins. He was still wearing that wrinkled uniform, which was looking even worse. I walked up to my desk and said, "She's in my squadron, Beta Wing." 

Marshall looked up at me, his eyes showing confusion, saying, "She was in your squadron? My condolences, Sir." 

"Was? I mean she is in my squadron," I corrected him. 

Now he looked even more confused. He said, "But, Sir, Christina Leeds died in the battle at Macross. How can she be in your squadron?" 

<Christina? What?> "No... That's Izabelle Fate, I just spoke to her yesterday, and she was transferred to my squadron today." 

We both looked at each other, then at the photograph. Which one of us was right? 

"You're saying that this is a picture of Christina Leeds, the pilot from the Veritech you acquired on Macross Island?" I asked. Then I took the picture and looked at the writing on the back, whispering, "Christina..." 

"Yes, Sir. I found this photograph in the cockpit that day. I put it into a pocket on her flight suit before I... 'landed' on the SDF-1." 

"That's strange, because this picture looks exactly like one of the officers in my squadron. Could you tell me what Christina looked like when you found her?" 

With a grimace, he replied with a description of a woman that exactly fit Izabelle Fate, with the exception of the terrible wounds Christina Leeds had taken. Then he pointed to the smeared blood that covered one half of the picture, and continued, "This is her blood... I don't mean to be crude about this, Sir, but she was definitely dead. The shrapnel cut through her like a scythe. Nobody could survive that kind of..." Then he paused, thinking. 

"What's up, Marshall?" I asked. 

"I was just thinking, Sir, about a woman I saw in the cafeteria yesterday. She looked almost exactly like Christina, especially in the flight suit she was wearing." He shuddered slightly; maybe at the memory, maybe something else. 

<This is sounding familiar...> "What was she buying? Did you see?" 

He looked at me oddly, probably because of my urgent tone, before saying, "Ah, I'm not sure. I do remember one of the workers objected to a strange request, but changed his tone when she flashed an I.D... something about dietary supplements for a co-worker." 

"Yes. That was Izabelle you saw. I heard she was accosted by another woman while she was there. Do you know about that?" 

Oddly, he smiled slightly at this question, looking thoughtful, he replied, "Yes Sir. The other woman was Vanessa Leeds, Christina's sister. Vanessa saw her and mistook her for Christina and became quite upset when she denied it." 

"That's almost exactly what I heard. Have you heard anything else about her? About Christina or Izabelle?" <There has to be some connection... Strange things are afoot, and I just might have stumbled onto a bigger story than I thought.> 

"Well, let me see..." He mused. "I know that Christina's body was identified in the temporary clinic, but that's about it." 

"Right," I said, thinking, <What am I forgetting? There's some connection to all this, but I can't, for the life of me, remember what it is.> "Well, that's enough on that subject, I guess. Now I want to get down to what I originally asked you here for." 

"I thought we had already covered that, Sir," he said, looking confused again. 

"No, not yet," I said, thinking, <How should I start this? I don't want to sound like I'm bragging, but I can't think of any way...> "David, before you found Christina's Veritech, you were running around the city unprotected, right?" 

"Well, sort of, Sir," he shrugged. 

"I don't quite know how to say this without bragging, David... Do you think my voice sounds familiar? Had you heard it sometime before I started teaching your class?" 

"Uh, I don't know Sir." 

"Well, you do remember a skirmish that took place between a few battle pods and a Veritech firing over your head, right? And do you remember the missile volley that almost killed the both of us?" His eyes changed, slightly, but I couldn't read his expression. "I picked you up off the street while you were unconscious from the explosion and tried to bring you to the SDF-1, but I was attacked by an officer's pod and had to put you down. You were conscious by then, and ran off for cover, I suppose. After that, I didn't see you again until much later, when I started my class. Do you remember?" 

He smiled and said, "Yes. I remember. That was you, Sir?" I nodded and he stuttered, "I don't quite know what to say, Sir... Thank you. I certainly hope to return the favour some day." 

I gave him a wry grin and said, "Let's hope you never have to, Marshall. Let's hope you never have to. Well! That's taken care of. What do you say we go grab a bite to eat, eh?" 

He looked surprised and replied, "Well, I don't know. Aren't there rules against fraternisation, Sir?" 

"Who's gonna notice?" I asked. "I'm not in uniform, and I'm not especially well known around here..." I paused, then added with a grin, "Yet." 

He pondered this for a moment before answering, "I guess it would be all right, then. Do you mind if I change out of my uniform, Sir?" He glanced down at it, then looked back at me, blushing slightly. "I'd like to clean up a bit first." 

I grinned an Izi grin at him, nodding, "Of course. I'll even walk you back to the barracks. 

"Why would you walk me to the barracks, Sir? I'm in the berthing area right around the corner." 

"What do you mean? I got rooms in the barracks for you and the other ranking personnel. You're supposed to be in room 112B... Didn't Sergeant Malone show you?" I asked, getting a little upset. <He didn't... The fucking bastard.>"No Sir. He told us we were bunking in the berthing area. He mentioned his room in the barracks, though. Said it was a privilege of rank." 

I was fuming, but I tried not to show it. "Where is the Sergeant now? I want to talk to him." 

"He said he had some errands to run. He left us on the hangar deck with an obnoxious technician. I haven't seen him since then." 

"I know where he is," I breathed. "And I know where he's going to be spending the rest of the month, too." I turned my gaze on David and snapped, "Go find your wing man, Marshall. Let him know about this and take your stuff to the barracks. Get set up and enjoy yourselves, but report back to the ready room tomorrow morning, 0800 hours. We're on patrol tomorrow, so make sure you're rested. Dismissed." I sat down in my chair and started tapping furiously at the terminal keys. I think I heard him step through the door and close it, but I was too busy being angry at Sergeant Jack Malone. 


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