[FANFIC] Robotech: The Misfold, Part 6

[here she comes again]

ROBOTECH: THE MISFOLD

Part 6

Written by Many; Edited by Chris Meadows

This is part 6 of the Robotech: The Misfold, a collaborative
work of fiction written by several authors at once and edited by
me. If you would like to write a contribution for the story, or
would simply like more information, please E-mail me at
chm...@nic.smsu.edu or CMEA...@NYX.CS.DU.EDU.
If this is the first part of Robotech: The Misfold that you
have received and you would like to read more, PLEASE DO NOT ASK
ME TO SEND THEM TO YOU. I cannot keep them on my account;
they're just too BIG. They may be FTPed from wpi.wpi.edu, in the
/FanFiction directory. I believe the filenames are misfold.1.Z
through misfold.5.Z, or something like that. If you can't FTP,
ask mega...@wpi.wpi.edu for help.

WRITING FOR MISFOLD:
All you aspiring authors out there, who have sent me email
wanting to get involved, and also you regular authors out there,
this is what you've been waiting to hear. I have news for you:
I'm ready for submissions for Misfold Part 7.
I have just a couple of major guidelines I'd like you to
follow. No killing off of major characters, for example. At
least, not without my permission, okay? And I would like you to
send me a synopsis of what you potentially plan to write, so I
can see if it would fit in with what I have already, or with what
others plan to write.
A suggestion...you might want to look back at some of the
older posts to find some bad guys we haven't done anything with
in a while. And if anyone wants to describe Carl Morgan's
experiences between landing on the ROOSEVELT in Dec. '92 and the
story's "present-day" in July or August '93, please go for it.
Just synopsize first, okay? Thanks...
Also, if you would like to write a brief "Author's Note" like
the "Editor's Note" I wrote above, go ahead and do it. I'll
include it, or at least an excerpt, in the next Misfold entry.

PLOT GUIDELINES
Over the course of writing six episodes, I've figured out a
few guidelines (mostly by trial and error). Basically, you're
pretty much free to write whatever you want within the
constraints of the plot. How it goes is kind of up to you.
However, there are a few ways that I DON'T want it to go, and
here they are:
There will be NO Zentraedi, Robotech Masters, or Invid
invasions of the earth in this storyline. This story isn't about
an alien invasion (unless the REF could be considered aliens),
it's about a futuristic group of humans from another dimension
falling into our time and trying to fit in and adapt. As far as
I'm concerned, Zor never found the Invid, so the Zentraedi don't
exist, the Robotech Masters' civilization has collapsed for lack
of a power source they could use, and the Invid are still leading
a happy protoplasmic existance on foliated Optera. The existance
of a Captain Hayes and a Dr. Emil Lang is simply coincidence.
Yeah, that's it. :)
Likewise, the Global Civil War did not/will not happen.
According to the Robotech RPG, it started when a space station
that may or may not have been armed was shot down. However, we
obviously don't have a space station like that, probably due to
Richard Nixon's cancellation of that part of the space program
back in the 70s. (Perhaps that's the essential difference
between our universe and the Robotech universe. :) Thus the
impetus was never there, so it didn't start. Instead, we just
have the 30 or 40 minor armed conflicts going on around the world
today.
There will be NO Zentraedi, Robotech Master, Invid, or human
starships from the Robotech universe also showing up in this
universe, falling through a fold instability created by the
ROOSEVELT's passage (or some such explanation). One starship
(the ROOSEVELT) is believable. Two or more simply stretches
credibility too far. Besides, don't we have enough characters
already? Geez.

A NOTE ABOUT CHARACTERS
For those of you who don't know, MegaZone, Gryphon, ReRob,
and all the other strange-sounding nicknames that Brian Bikowicz
mentions in his segments are real people (mostly real,
anyway)--they're Brian himself and all his friends at the
Worcester Polytechnic Institute. Most of their nicknames come
from the computer account IDs they chose. MegaZone/Zoner is
Brian Bikowicz (mega...@wpi.WPI.EDU), for example.
If you'd like to hear all about their amazing adventures
(plug plug plug), the stories coauthored by MegaZone, Gryphon,
ReRob, and several others are available for anonymous FTP from
wpi.wpi.edu, under the /FanFiction directory. To get them, set
your filetype to binary and mget /FanFiction/dp.u*. Be sure you
have plenty of disk space handy. They're terrific and funny, and
I highly recommend them, especially if you like Robotech, Dirty
Pair, Bubblegum Crisis, and/or a lot of other anime (and this is
NOT just an idle plug--I LOVE those stories...).
Now, normally I regard all characters in this story as
"community property," that any author can do anything with.
However, since Zoner and friends are REAL PEOPLE, anything you
write which involves them should probably be sent to MegaZone for
his approval/editing first (I'll be sending any such segments I
receive to him anyway, regardless).

AUTHORIAL CREDIT
Everybody's submission is subtly changed in some way by
myself. I check for spelling, syntax, grammar, continuity, etc.
So far, no one's complained.
Many times, I just make a few changes--change the spelling of
a name, change around a paragraph or two--to ensure correctness.
However, sometimes I have to make a great sweeping change; take
the storyline of the submission and twist it all around in order
to make it fit in. When I do this, it wouldn't be right to leave
the original author's name on it by itself, so I add my own name.
That way, the author of that submission doesn't get all the blame
if that part is considered lousy (or all the credit if everybody
likes it! :).
That's just to clarify what it means when you see two names
tacked onto a segment, instead of just one.

SECTION SYNOPSES AND AVAILABILITY:
These are the current section numbers. They are available
for anonymous FTP from wpi.wpi.edu, located in the
/FanFiction directory. If you haven't read them yet,
please do; the following will spoil the story for you otherwise.

PART 1 The ROOSEVELT misfolds into the wrong earthspace. Lt.
Joe Walker is sent out, makes contact with General
Mitchell of the U.S.A.F. Asuka Suzuki and Ivory
Tanaka prepare to send up a VR-controlled scout drone
to recon the ROOSEVELT. Lt. Stefan Anderson wipes
out the record of the erroneous misfold coordinates.
Lt. Walker's Veritech is attacked by a mysterious
Stealth fighter and loses contact with the ROOSEVELT.
It lands at Langley. Captain Kranz sends out
Commander Carter to find Walker, then the ROOSEVELT
moves to a higher orbit.

PART 2 Lieutenant Walker meets with President Bush, then
returns to Langley to meet Commander Carter. They
find that a mysterious team of technicians
accompanied by a strange form of power armor have
been attempting to dismantle Walker's Veritech for
study. Two Pentagon officers deliver stolen flight
log tapes of the UFO to an agent of ELITE, who was
behind the stealth plane. Ivory Tanaka's recon drone
is destroyed and she is shocked into unconsciousness
during the recon run on the ROOSEVELT.

PART 3 The government sends takes more reconnaissance
footage of the ROOSEVELT. Ivory Tanaka regains
consciousness to find herself INSIDE the ROOSEVELT's
computer. At Langley, General Mitchell discovers
that weapons and ammunition used by the mysterious
technicians were reported "missing" from government
warehouses, giving rise to speculation that there
could be many more powerful weapons in their hands.
This seems to be proved by the ELITE attack that
comes as Commander Carter and Lieutenant Walker
prepare to take off. They are forced to take General
Mitchell with them. Ivory Tanaka meets several
students from Worchester Polytechnic Institute in
Worchester, Massachusetts, likes them, and sets up
high-level computer accounts for them. Meanwhile,
Carl Morgan, an operative from ELITE, pilots a
primitive transforming robot to filch a top-secret
component from an unnamed university. And the real
life Ivory Tanaka wakes up in a hospital bed and
finds out what happened to the probe.

PART 4 Ben and MegaZone gimmick up a system to transmit
their images to Ivory Tanaka in the ROOSEVELT's
computer. They plan to build a VR system, but Ivory
says she cannot help them with it. The President and
JCS are briefed on what happened at Langley. The
President gets in touch with General Mitchell and
Captain Kranz to arrange a meeting on board the
aircraft carrier ABRAHAM LINCOLN. Lieutenant
Anderson tries to delete Ivory Tanaka, and Ivory is
forced to flee through a maintenance uplink to Joe
Walker's Vindicator's flight computer. The
Vindicator accompanies Kranz et al down to the
meeting on board the LINCOLN. Lieutenant Carl
"Foxfire" Sanders gets scrambled to meet the arriving
dignitaries and witnesses Veritech fighters defending
themselves from ELITE's DarkStar aircraft. He also
sees them transform into robots. Ivory Tanaka takes
over the Vindicator fighter (to Walker's dismay) and
discovers that it is very similar to flying the VR
drone. The President, JCS, and Dr. Emil Lang of this
dimension discuss ELITE and REF mecha with Captain
Kranz and Commander Anders. Ivory Tanaka
accidentally melds temporarily with Joe Walker's mind
when Walker attempts to regain control of the
Veritech through thought control. Carl Sanders talks
with a VF pilot from the ROOSEVELT, Lt. Sarah
"Model-T" Ford, and then ELITE attacks from a
submarine. They capture Ford and escape, but Sanders
gets on board the submarine before they leave. Ivory
has a brief conversation with Joe Walker, then
returns to the ROOSEVELT's main computer.

PART 5 Joe Walker returns to the LINCOLN and meets Dr. Emil
Lang. Joe recounts his adventures to the President
and the JCS (leaving Ivory Tanaka out). Dr. Lang
proposes using the ROOSEVELT's sensors to pinpoint
the ELITE undersea base, then using Shadow Fighters
to take it out. Major Eddings locates the base from
the ROOSEVELT, and notices that something's strange
about the computer. Meanwhile, Carl Sanders locates
a uniform, a stealth fighter, and Lieutenant Sarah
Ford. He breaks Ford out, they steal a fighter, and
take off, pursued by other ELITE fighters. A
Veritech squadron flying off the LINCOLN takes out
the pursuit, and Sanders and Ford land safely on the
ROOSEVELT. The Shadow Fighter squadron led by Joe
Walker fires on and destroys the ELITE base. Carl
Sanders and Sarah Ford are debriefed. Their
personnel safe, the REF delegation takes off once
more, taking Carl Sanders with them. A few days
later, Ivory Tanaka accesses her corporation's
computer and discovers that the other "her" is still
alive. She telephones MegaZone for reassurance, and
gets it. Several months pass. MegaZone arranges a
meeting with a representative of the Lockheed
Advanced Projects Group, aka "the skunk works," and
sells him a plan for a nuclear fusion powerplant,
taken from the ROOSEVELT's main computers.


Without further ado (or further adon't, for that matter), we now
present

R O B O T E C H: T H E M I S F O L D

PART 6

chm...@nic.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows):

December, 1992:
Carl Morgan lay prone on his chest within the tiny rocket
that was taking him to his destination. The suit he wore was a
combination of a pilot's atmospheric pressure suit and a
biofeedback monitoring system--it was feeding data into the
minishuttle's flight computer even as it was feeding air into his
lungs.
Carl was inside a small ship barely six feet wide and
perhaps twenty long. It had been deployed from a larger shuttle
six hours before, with him inside it, and had since been
proceeding at mach 4.3 toward the alien starship--the S.S.
ROOSEVELT.
The cavity Morgan lay within was barely larger than his
body--there were perhaps six inches of clearance between his back
and the ceiling. His arms were in two cupped armrests, his hands
holding twin control sticks to either side of the CRT data
display in front of his face.
Blue light from the CRT reflected off of the faceplate of
Carl Morgan's helmet as he moved his left hand to the small,
simple control panel just below the screen and entered a course
correction. The screen blinked, and displayed all the necessary
data--trajectory, azimuth indicators, et cetera. Carl pressed a
few more buttons, a maneuvering jet fired, and the ship's nose
nudged over slightly onto its new course.
"Very good, very good..." Morgan muttered. All indications
were that he would reach the alien ship in approximately thirty
minutes. The stealth system was working fine, and there were no
signs that he had been detected. It was looking good.
Morgan remembered the three months of frantic waiting he had
gone through since being called to ELITE's hidden base. He had
been all ready to go up, when the mission had suddenly been put
on hold.
No one had told him why the flight to the ROOSEVELT had been
cancelled, but through some of his friends in higher places Carl
had learned that a mechanized attack on Langley AFB to capture
the alien planes had ended in failure due to some amazing
abilities exhibited by those planes. The head Operatives of
ELITE were now trying to analyze the camera footage of the battle
and figure out what their next step should be in light of these
new developments.
That was all he'd been told, and the rest, including the
details of the "amazing abilities," had been left up to his
imagination. When Morgan had learned of the number of men that
had been lost in the abortive raid, and the capture of 17 intact
suits of RA-2 power armor, he'd realized that ELITE now HAD to
capture that technology in order to retain their technological
edge. The only question was, how?
The RA-2 had originally been developed by ELITE as a weapon
to be kept in reserve until the day came when certain areas of
the Third World might be war-torn enough that ELITE could move in
and take over. With its army of extremely mobile power armor
units, each as heavily-armored and as well-armed as a tank, no
normal armed force could stand before them. However, for this
attack to succeed, it would be vital to keep the RA-2 a secret.
If anyone learned about the RA-2 too early, the whole plan could
be ruined.
ELITE had been taking a great risk in deploying an RA-2
squadron to Langley. Had it paid off, though, Carl had the
feeling that it would have been well worth it. Unfortunately for
ELITE, it hadn't, and the secret was out. Even now, Carl was
sure, the United States was trying to figure out ways to counter
the RA-2 armor and incorporate its technology into their own
military.
Carl had wondered what ELITE had been thinking of when it
had waited more than three months to send him up on this mission.
He had no way of knowing the real reason why they were
waffling--they wanted to find out all they could from General
Mitchell's reports before they committed one of their best
agents. However, Mitchell's reports really hadn't told them
anything they wanted to know, for the simple reason that Mitchell
was aware that ELITE had access to his written reports and thus
did not provide any potentially useful information in them.
Finally, Carl had been given the go-ahead. His first words
upon receiving the order had been, "At LAST!" He'd about gone
nuts with nothing to do but mope around the top-secret ELITE base
with nothing to do for three months. Now he was on the
job...this was what he'd been trained for.
Seventeen minutes to contact. Though Carl couldn't see the
alien ship yet, he knew it was there by the minishuttle's
proximity sensors. And he couldn't wait--after being cramped up
in the minishuttle for six hours with nothing to do but stare at
the CRT before his eyes, he was almost ready to go stir-crazy!
For a moment, Carl thought back to his life before ELITE.
He'd been just another high school nobody until his test scores
indicated his true potential and an ELITE agent recruited him.
At first, he'd been a little bit scared by the prospect of
working for a criminal organization, but then he'd decided what
the hell? His parents never found out about his joining
ELITE--they'd both died soon afterward in an auto accident.
ELITE had trained him well, and he had pulled many jobs for them
with a great amount of success.
His greatest aptitudes had been in the area of piloting the
new RA-2 robotic power armor and RA-3 dual-mode robot armor. The
RA-3 was his favorite--it was a completely mobile suit of power
armor that could be disguised as a vending machine or other large
piece of machinery. He'd used it to great effect recently, with
the "acquisition" of that component from the university three
months before...
BEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! The proximity alert warning jarred Carl
Morgan out of his reverie. A hasty look at the CRT radar display
indicated that a large object was about to collide with him! Not
even sparing himself time to curse, Carl grabbed both control
sticks and shoved them far forward. The thrusters fired, and the
minishuttle angled downward just in time. The object flashed by
overhead.
Now that he'd avoided the crash, Carl had time to swear.
"What the hell was THAT?!" He punched for radar analysis and an
external camera image. It had been going Mach 2.1 and had been
coming from straight ahead. With the mini-shuttle's limited
radar range, it hadn't been detectible until it was right on him.
The camera image came on the screen, and it revealed a
fighter jet. The same kind of jet that had made up the front
part of that "Angel Flight" plane, in fact...and it was coming
around.
"Uh-oh...it must have spotted me. But how?" But Carl knew
the answer. Infra-red, of course...and there must have been some
visible light reflection from the shuttle, too. "Drat! Can't
let him see me...better take evasive maneuvers." He put the ship
on manual and fired the thrusters.

"This is Firefox to RTC, Firefox to RTC, Redeye flight.
I've spotted something strange in my patrol quadrant, over."
"RTC here. Please describe, over."
"Uh, locking in video, RTC...let me transmit it to you. It
appears to be some kind of small spaceship. And the kicker is,
it doesn't register on radar."
"It does not show up on your radar?"
"Roger...negative readings. Just infra-red and visual."
"I think you'd better take a closer look, Firefox. You know
the trouble we've been having with those terrorist attacks. This
could be a threat to the ROOSEVELT."
"Roger. Firefox out."

Bluish thruster flames flared as the minishuttle Carl Morgan
rode in altered its position. If he could just get far enough
away from the plane, he could deactivate the jets and engage the
coolant system to get rid of the excess engine heat. Then he
might stand a chance of getting away undetected...
But the fighter was coming in closer. Through the external
camera, Carl could even see the pilot's armor suit as he came in
closer, flying inverted relative to the minishuttle to get a
better view.
"I can't shake him." Carl checked the radar screen. Still
11 minutes out from the ROOSEVELT. He hadn't intended to
jettison until at least 5 minutes away, but it looked like he'd
have to do it now, to escape...
Carl Morgan slid open a panel on the top of the
minishuttle's simple control board and pressed down on a series
of rocker switches. Each one lit up red as he pressed it. The
blue CRT screen began flashing "SAFETY ON." A button under a
safety cover started to blink, and Carl opened the cover and
pressed it.
The screen said "WARNING: INITIALIZING" with a larger "05"
centered just below it. The "05" changed to "04", and this
changed to "03" as the countdown proceeded. Carl quickly checked
to be sure that his hands and arms were in the right places on
the armrest, then looked back to the screen, which now said "00".
Then the screen flipped up and the control board flipped over
to reveal a much more complicated set of instruments. Panels
slid down from the ceiling to cover his arms, and then the
armrest assemblies moved downward. His legrests changed position
similarly, and pedals slid up under his feet.
On the exterior of the minishuttle, explosive bolts went
off, separating panels and thruster assemblies from the craft.
Other explosives went off, too, intended to scatter the panels
rapidly and disguise the transformation as an explosion. As
these bombs went off, other thrusters fired, separating a large
portion of the minishuttle from the other fragments. From the
underside of the ship, the result of these changes were clearly
visible. But above, all the Alpha fighter saw was an explosion
as the mysterious ship suddenly came apart. Several fragments of
armor, impelled by the extra explosives in the ship, hit the
Alpha, denting it and cracking the canopy.
From the underside of the minishuttle, however, a different
scene was visible. Something came flying out of the
explosion--something roughly humanoid, and about twelve feet
tall. It fired its thrusters on full burst for about ten
seconds, then shut them down. "Activating supercoolant system."
In just under fifteen more seconds, the engine nozzles had cooled
to roughly the same temperature as the rest of space.

"Firefox to RTC, Firefox to RTC. The unidentified object
has exploded, doing minor damage to my bird, including cracking
the canopy. Request permission to come in, over."
"Roger, Firefox. You are clear to return to the ship, over."
"Understood. Firefox out."

-He's leaving!- Morgan thought. -It worked!- He relaxed in
the control seat. "Heh. Fooled him."
The cockpit of the minishuttle was now different. The
shuttle itself, through the ejection of certain components and
armor plating, had changed its form to that of an RA-3 robot,
similar to the one in the Pepsi machine that Carl had used to
pull off the University job. This RA-3 was equipped with extra
thrust packs and weapons pods, as well as a stealth system. It
was the tech division's crowning achievement, and so far it was
working out just fine...
Carl checked his passive radar-imaging scopes. The plane
was moving away at a rapid velocity, heading back toward the UFO
no doubt.
After waiting for a good ten minutes, Carl fired his own
thrusters and began to move toward the Ikazuchi once again.
Because the vehicle was slower as a robot, it would take about an
hour, but Carl didn't mind. He amused himself by turning his
camera toward the earth. "Beautiful. Just beautiful. Never
knew it could look so good from up here." As the RA-3 continued
toward the S.S. ROOSEVELT, Carl idly wondered when he'd see it
again.

On the ROOSEVELT, Captain Kranz was pacing back and forth in
his room like a caged animal. In point of fact, that was rather
what he was feeling like at the moment.
With the conclusion of the ABRAHAM LINCOLN affair, it had
been resolved that, for the time being, the REF would keep its
personnel aboard the ROOSEVELT. There would be no further
attempts to make physical contact with any terran nations until
they knew more about this new planet, and how they could adapt to
it. An analysis of national events, economies, et cetera would
take several weeks at least. Therefore, for the time being, the
ROOSEVELT would remain right where it was.
The presence of the ROOSEVELT was causing some controversy
on the planet. Taps into satellite transmissions revealed that
much. Some people were quick to write the ship off as mass
hysteria; no nation has that level of technology, therefore it
can't exist. Others, like that original NORAD F-15 pilot, blamed
some foreign power--the Japanese, the Russians, the
Americans--even though it was patently impossible. Others
thought or hoped it was some benign alien race, come to intercede
in the Earth's affairs before the nuclear crisis point. Others
were afraid it was a hostile alien force come to take over the
world.
One talk show host, Rush Limbaugh by name, had some things
to say. "It has come to my attention that the Liberal
congress..." (thump, thump, thump) "has been claiming that the
mysterious spaceship that has been sighted is simply some sort of
hoax, a mass hallucination of some sort. Well, I have found some
interesting information that says otherwise, and I'm going to
share it with you, ladies and gentlemen. Here, in my formerly
nicotine-stained fingers, I have a government report from Dr.
Emil--am I pronouncing that right? Yes? Thanks. Dr. Emil Lang
is the scientist in charge of investigating this UFO. Anyway,
this report from Dr. Emil Lang clearly shows that it is no
hallucination. We have pictures taken from the BEST
observatories in the world of this ship. No, ladies and
gentlemen, I have to tell you people that it's real.
"What we don't know are its intentions. Now, those
Democrats in Congress have been saying that this thing isn't
real, and yet, AND YET, ladies and gentlemen, this latest
appropriations bill they've been trying to get passed for the
military lists, and I quote, 'uncertainty about the possible
intentions of the mysterious object' as a reason for
appropriation. Can you believe this? I mean, on the one hand
they're saying that they don't believe in it, but on the other,
they want more money to defend against it in case it's hostile!
Can you people see this? They want more money for fighting
alleged FIGMENTS! This is just one more reason why we..."
Many ROOSEVELT crewmen had developed a taste for
20th-century television, to the point where some in the higher
ranks were beginning to think of it as a discipline problem.
Higher rank had its priveleges in some cases--the command staff
had pretty much unlimited access to the communications network.
It was a simple matter for Major Eddings to set up the
ROOSEVELT's vidcommunication system to receive satellite
broadcasts, and the military descrambler system of the Ikazuchi
could decrypt any satellite scrambler ever invented. So the
higher-ranking officers could receive a few hundred channels of
cable TV, even in their own rooms with their personal computer
and communication units.
Veritech pilots, with their planes' satellite communication
systems, could similarly receive earth TV, and some were getting
hooked on MTV. Commander Anders, the Veritech CAG, wasn't
worried about it becoming a problem as long as his men did their
jobs properly.
And so the months had passed. People spent their time in
different ways. Captain Kranz had read reports, watched a little
TV, kept up his simulator time, and oversaw the operation of the
ship. Commander Anders did much the same. Major Eddings did
research into the scientific advancements of this 20th century.
Joe Walker, Sarah Ford, and Carl Sanders worked together on
Veritech retraining. Carl was coming along quite well, in fact,
and he loved it. It wasn't long before he was given an honorary
commission in the Robotech Expeditionary Force at the rank of
Lieutenant, and allowed to fly routine patrols in a Veritech.
General Mitchell continued to send back reports to Washington.
And so it went...
Over six months, they'd waited here. Looking, learning,
analyzing, searching. Trying to find a way to get back home,
while at the same time learning as much about this new world as
they could through content analysis of broadcasts, recon sweeps,
and contact with the United Nations.
The UN had been a bit hesitant at first about opening
communications with a UFO, and it had taken a personal envoy
(Kranz had sent Commander Carter) to get it worked out. The
ROOSEVELT was now a provisional member of the UN--nonvoting, as
yet, and without a representative in the UN building in New York
(due to fears of another kidnapping attempt). Instead,
telecommunications equipment was set up so that the
ROOSEVELT-appointed "ambassador" could monitor and contribute to
the proceedings from the ship itself. (Ivory Tanaka also
monitored these events, as it helped to stave off ennui.)
Over six months they'd been here, and what had they
accomplished? Nothing. They'd just sat up here and watched that
planet tearing itself apart.
It really got on Kranz's nerves...here they were, a nation
unto themselves, with enough firepower to win a small war, and
yet they were just SITTING up here, watching and doing nothing.
The REF was supposed to defend the earth, but did this include
defending it from itself?
"Damnation," Kranz swore. "I'm the captain, and it's my
decision. I think we've been idle long enough..." He punched
up the intercom. "Get me Commander Anders."
A few minutes later, Anders came on. "Yessir?"
"I want Shadow Legioses dispatched on scouting missions
immediately to Somalia, Angola, Bosnia-Herzogovena, Lebanon, and
any other current trouble spots. I want information, but I also
want results."
"Understood, sir. Anders out."

Pieter Thomassen <pjlt...@cs.ruu.nl>:

Meanwhile, on the planet below, there was a meeting going on
in the White House: the next President was being briefed by the
previous one.
"You've read the memo from the JCS ?" Bush asked.
Bill Clinton looked down to where the report lay. Yes, he
had read it, along with other papers which revealed the Langley
battle, the item he had won the elections on, in too much detail
for his peace of mind. When he had promised action, and won the
elections with it, he had not considered that 'action' against an
enemy that had violated American soil would be 'unrecommended'.
At least, not in this way. He had thought it was a government
cover-up of a battle between two arms of the government. But as
it had turned out, the USA had had little to do with the battle;
it had just happened on American soil.
He read the (to him) most frightening document of all again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
MEMORANDUM

FROM: The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staffs

TO: President Bush
President-Elect Clinton

SUBJECT: REF/ROOSEVELT MILITARY CAPABILITY

REFERENCES: IntelRep 0988-58326-456 (Mitchell, Gen.)

CLASSIFICATION: MOST SECRET

1. Continuous reports from General Mitchell have given us these
numbers on the Roosevelt combat "mecha" and other
capabilities. Though the Roosevelt crew has been cooperative,
it must be stressed that this cooperation did not include
details on technological achievements or absolute numbers.

2. Air Wing: Roosevelt carries between 450 and 480 air and
spacecraft. Most of these appear to be 'Alpha' transformable
fighters, with about half that number of 'Beta' transformable
fighter/booster units. In addition, there are some 40 - 48
total 'Valkyrie' (Steroid-F14) craft, recon craft and
trans-atmospheric assault transports. In numbers, these
craft total about 6.5 US Air Force wings, however, the higher
level of technology present in all craft make for a combat
capacity far in excess of the entire US Air Force, and could
well be equal or higher to that of the world's combined Air
Forces.

3. Ground Troops include about 200 so-called 'Destroids', the
least powerful of which equals several tank companies, and
(most numerously) about 3000 'Cyclone' reconfigurable
motorcycles. Additional personnel (about 2000) is equipped
with body armor, capable of withstanding small cannon fire and
the 'Gallant' laser rifle/pistol, capable of knocking out
tanks. Ground control is effected from 'Ground Mobile Units';
some kind of mobile fortress it seems. There are four of
these on the ship. Numerically a reinforced brigade or small
division, this ground force would possibly be a match for the
US Army. Note that the ground troops can be reinforced by
'battloid' mode fighters operating on, or just over, the
ground. Indeed, this appears to be a standard REF tactic.

4. Weaponry of the mecha includes at least lasers, ion cannons
and probably also particle beams in addition to missiles and
cannon rounds which can be equipped with powerful explosives,
or high-tech warheads like plasma bombs.

5. Starship weapons: General Mitchell has had the least success
in gaining infomation in this area, but tentatively gives this
section as, one, 'main cannon', type and range unknown,
several secondary laser batteries (> 10 in number) and at
least 3, but possibly as many as 10, missile launchers/launch
bays. Most of these weapons can provide support to ground
troops.

6. The ship itself can make >10% of the speed of light, and
apparently has some sort of energy shield protection
capability. Total ship crew numbers greater than 7000 men and
women in approximately equal ratios.

7. This is not the largest or most powerful ship of the Robotech
Expeditionary Force. General Mitchell has identified at least
two larger ships, one of which, called 'SDF-3' is the flagship
for the whole Force. Also, the Roosevelt is not a unique
ship; there appear to be at least 14 others of her class, not
to mention many smaller ships.

8. Stated mission of the Roosevelt was to free planets of the
alien race called the 'Invid'. Ergo, the Roosevelt has been
designed, apparently successfully, to routinely engage and
destroy forces strong enough to attack and conquer entire
planets, some of which have higher technological levels than
Earth. One must therefore conclude that the combined
resources of this planet may not be sufficient to repel an
attack from the Roosevelt.

9. In view of the above, military operations against the
Roosevelt, or any other units of the REF that might appear,
are NOT recommended.

Signed: The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The President looked up from the document. "There has been
no more activity from these spacers?"
"No. The JCS would have been more concerned then; after all,
if they decide to stay here, the power balances in the world will
undergo some major changes, as if this terrorist group wasn't
enough already."
That was some comfort then. The REF was bad enough, an
active REF was infinitely worse for Clinton. It would all be on
his plate now.
High above the White House, several shapes left the
ROOSEVELT, undetected by any Earthly sensor. They choose courses
to the hotspots of the world: Bosnia, Somalia, the Far-East. As
fuses in a powderkeg...

No war is ever pretty, but civil war is to 'normal' war as
war is to peace. The war in Bosnia was more brutal than most,
but all the death and terror was far below the REF's leasurely
cruising Shadow Legios Gray Three. The pilot, Lieutenant Manfred
"Baron" Richter, was studying the data that the sensor operators
in the bulky Shadow Beta behind him were compiling. After having
watched the flow of information for over three hours, Richter was
becoming convinced that the Invid could have taken a few lessons
from the humans on the area of cruelty. But then he realised
that the Invid had done so, through the Robotech Masters, and
what did that say about his race?
Getting quite fed up, he directed the communications system
to go for laser contact with his collegue in Shadow Legios Gray
Two, orbiting over Somalia. After a short wait the commo system
managed to direct a pencil-thin beam of coherent light toward the
predicted location of Gray Two, which, since both Legioses were
on schedule, was also the actual location of Gray Two, and then
the system managed to pick up the answering beam from Gray Two.
"You busy, Jennifer?"
"Nope. It's been a real quiet flight so far."
"Here too. Of course, there isn't much here that can even
spot, let alone reach us."
"Well, that drone plane managed to, when we first arrived
here, didn't it? But then, the ROOSEVELT is not exactly a Shadow
Fighter."
"You're right, of course. Have you got anything planned for
tonight?"
While the two REF pilots were discussing their social
schedules, two of of ELITE's DarkStar stealth fighters were
planning a rather different kind of rendezvous. Even with the
full-scale inquiry directed at them, ELITE was still quite safe
from discovery, but sometimes the investigators did come a bit
too close for comfort. They had been diverted so far, thanks to
the massive infiltration operations that ELITE had staged for the
past decade, but there were only so many members and far more
opponents. And since an organization like ELITE drew its
greatest strength from stealth, it was best that they stay in the
shadows for some time yet to come. So the ELITE leadership had
planned to divert a lot of the United States's investigations to
a faraway part of the globe. To Somalia, to be exact.
They planned to shoot down some American air assets over
Somalia. The public outcry would demand a powerful reaction, and
the military would be let to believe (by ELITE infiltrators)
that this incident was the result of a threat by American forces
to a major ELITE installation somewhere in East Africa. After
all, the fighters had to come from somewhere, didn't they? And
they must have broken cover for something important, too. Any
officers that would point out that the fighters might well be
based in Europe and flown in for a diversion would be drown out
by the infiltrators.
The targets selected were a F-14 BARCAP (Barrier Combat Air
Patrol) and a medical relief flight. In the lead DarkStar,
Operative 256 used the stick to waggle his wings, a sign for his
wingman to veer of towards the C-141 medical relief flight. He
himself went on towards the juicier target, the F-14 fighter
planes. Operative 256's real name was Gaston Lefebre, and while
he brought his fighter onto the intercept vector, he thought,
with a leery grin on his face, what his wife would do when he
came home with the bonus for this job. His grin became even
larger when he thought what his girlfriend would do when she
found out he had kept the better part of the bonus from his wife.
Failure didn't occur to him--after all, who could spot him and
interfere with his mission? He had a state of the art stealth
system.
High above the two DarkStar fighters and their targets, the
pilot of Gray Two was still talking to Gray Three, when suddenly
she heard from the sensor operators behind her.
"Lieutenant Taggart, we are picking up two anomalies on the
sensors."
"Specify."
"Well, after the ruffle the commander had with those stealth
fighters, we're planning to upgrade the radar to a UWB set, which
can detect those stealth fighters by emitting such a heavy
multiband radar pulse that..."
"I know that. It isn't ready yet, so that can't report an
anomaly. What gives?"
"As a stopgap measure the techs have made a software link
between the radar processors and the Optical/Infrared Imager
system. It is set to report any optical or IR contacts that
don't show up on radar. Drawback is, it doesn't have that much
range or resolution, so it only works on medium to short ranges."
"I know. So?"
"The system is showing two IR traces closing with some
American aircraft, but the traces have no accompanying radar
trace. Tentative id reads as terrorist stealth fighters."
Jennifer Taggart called it up on her terminalscreens. The
tech was right. "RTC, RTC, this is Gray Two. Come in ROOSEVELT
Tactical Command, over."
"Gray Two, this is RTC," came the reply from the ROOSEVELT's
tactical bridge. "Go ahead."
"RTC, I have two possible hostiles closing with three
American craft. Request instructions. Over."
"Ah, uh, stand by, Gray Two. Do you have a possible time to
intercept from the bogeys? Over."
"That's affirmative, RTC."
"TTI is 90 seconds."
"Roger. Standby."
Jennifer looked a bit closer at her screens.
"RTC, one of their targets is an unarmed relief flight.
Request permission to engage."
"Negative, Gray Two. We are tracing command now. Stand
by." By the time command was in the RTC, the American planes
would be on the desert floor, in pieces. There was a time for
following orders and one for own initiative, and Jennifer decided
to exercise some of hers now.
"Computer, find the com frequency of those American fighters.
And plot an intercept course to the hostile tracking the cargo
flight."
The computer's voice answered: "Confirmed."
"Clear all missiles for firing. Set up a solution for the
hostiles, priority to the one behind the cargo plane."
"Confirmed. Intercept course is 237, firing coordinates for
Reflex missiles in 30 seconds. Plane to plane frequency found
and set into com system channel 4. Missiles are cleared for
firing. Full ammo available."
"American F-14 flight, attention! Stealth fighter
approaching on your six, 12 miles!"
Immediately, every F-14 within radio range began evasive
maneuvers, but Jennifer was too busy to notice.

"Firing solution. Firing solution," the computer announced.
The head-up display flashed 'FIRE', too. Jennifer pushed the
button that sent a long-range Reflex missile towards the DarkStar
fighter.
Aboard the C-141 cargo flight, a CNN news-crew was
interviewing the pilot. ".....and we are all glad that we can
hel--holy ---- what is that!?"
The pilot had spotted the incoming Reflex missile. So had
the DarkStar, and it went into a successful evasive that defeated
the incoming warhead.
It also exposed it to the human and mechanical eyes in the
cockpit of its target.
"#$%@&*--where did he come from?--I don't like this--call
mayday!" The newscrew was too busy filming to utter a sound, not
even when the DarkStar fighter recovered and lined up on the
Starlifter.
"That bastard is going to fire! Prepare for evasive!"
But the DarkStar never got the chance. Later that day,
retired generals would marvel in CNN's Atlanta studio when they
saw on the tape that the cameramen had managed to smuggle away
that the missile had, oddly enough, turned around, homed in on
the DarkStar fighter and blown it out of the sky. As they said,
times had changed since they had been in the Air Force.

Among the F-14 Tomcats that were trying to evade the
DarkStar on their six was Cheer One, piloted by a Captain
Masterson. He was scanning the sky while he listened to the
exclamations of F-14 pilots all over Africa and the Arabian
Peninsula. An air controller was calling for an identification
on the person who had panicked the aircraft. Apparently, he
thought it was a joke, played by some bored sailors sitting in an
aircraft aboard a carrier, who thought it was fun imagining all
those Tomcats and their hotshot pilots going all over the sky,
evading an imaginary threat. Masterson himself thought it was
likely, too. After all, the stealth attack had been on the East
Coast, and he was a third of the world away.
In Cheer Two, Masterson's wingman Johnson had similar
thoughts, but forgot them the moment he saw a black speck where
there should have been blue sky. "Cheer One, bogey to the south
of us! He is closing on us. Suggest you turn into him, then I
can approach him from behind if he tries to go for a missile
launch position!"

In the DarkStar, Lefebre was wondering what had gone wrong.
One moment he was all set up for a flawless attack, the next both
his targets were doing evasive maneuvers that spoiled his firing
solution. How had he been spotted? But he could wonder about
that later, all he had to do was shoot the two aircraft down.
Since their radar could not lock onto him, they could not fire
back. It was too easy. He closed on the F-14 flight leader.

In Cheer One Masterson was getting nervous. "You sure you are
set up for this?" he asked his wingman. He did NOT like playing
bait.
"Yes. My backseater [guy in the back seat] is aiming the
camera now." While the radar was totally useless against the
DarkStar, the laws of physics can be quite rigid when they want
to. One of those laws was that aircraft going through an
atmosphere at hundreds of miles per hour got warm from air
friction. And warm surfaces radiate infra-red radiation, which
heat-seekers can home in on.
Even so, even heat-seekers are normally aimed by the radar,
and would thus be useless against a stealth fighter. But when
word had come to the squadron to which the Cheer flight belonged
about the attacks on Langley and the LINCOLN, some technicians
had remembered that the latest Russian fighters carried an
infra-red camera as well and had thus not so much need for radar.
Since the F-14 could also be equipped with a tv-camera,
linking the fire-control to it was a logical step. With the
aproximate direction given, the heat-seeker missile could finish
the job by itself.
Gaston Lefebre didn't know that: as far as he was concerned,
he was invulnerable. So he paid no attention to Cheer Two as it
came up behind him: he thought it was just trying to divert him.

"Hurry up, Two. He's almost in firing position!" Johnson
addressed his radar/camera operator."Ready yet?"
"Mere seconds now. Yes!" A growling noice came from the
headphones in Cheer Two. A Sidewinder heat seeking missile had
locked onto the DarkStar.
Johnson pressed his firing button, and a missile leaped off
its pylon and homed in on the DarkStar.

Gaston Lefebre heard the missile launch warning in his
cockpit and looked with unbelieving eyes at the closing missile
in his mirror. How could it track him? Then reflexes took over
and he pulled his fighter into the sun, hoping to convince the
incoming missile that it was a far better target then his
fighter. The missile took the bait, and now Gaston was angry.
How dare they shoot at him?! He was a member of ELITE! [bit
arrogant don't you think?] He swung his fighter round to attack
Cheer Two. Unfortunately, he forgot that Cheer One was also
around, and never even saw the Sidewinder that Masterson launched
while his wingman played bait on his turn.
The missile struck the DarkStar in the weapons bay, setting
of an explosion in the missile Lefebre was about to launch at
Cheer Two, which set off the other weapons in the bay, which set
of the fuel, which explosion widowed Madame Lefebre. [His
girlfriend wouldn't really mind, since Gaston had been away so
often, and anyway she was eying a Swedish twin who had come down
to Paris for a culture-filled vacation.]

Shortly afterwards, in Washington, the incident caused
immediate meetings between the political and military leaders.
The evidence of other activities from the mysterious
terrorist organization was worrying enough, but the suspicions
about the source of the unexpected help the Americans had
received over Somalia caused even more raised eyebrows.
In the White House, an officer was briefing his
commander-in-chief and the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
"Both the radio message and the missile originated at the
same spot over Somalia. Our radar stations had not picked up any
sign that there was something out there. The craft was totally
stealthed. But one of our Keyhole satellites took a camera shot
from the location, and that shot shows an object that does not
show up on any radar at all."
"It can't have been one of the terrorists' craft, can it? Why
would they knock down one of their own guys?" the Army Joint
Chief asked.
In reply, the officer showed the photo he had talked about.
Nobody in the room had trouble identifying the silhouette as a
REF Legios.
After a while Clinton remarked, "Guess they aren't quite so
out of this world's affairs as they wanted us to believe."

mega...@WPI.EDU (MegaZone):

Over the past few months Ben and Zoner had worked hard on
developing a virtual reality interface. Zoner had the idea of a
gyroscope-like mount that would allow a full range of motion. It
wouldn't be perfect, but linked with LCD goggles and a data suit
it would provide a realistic enough feel for the user. It
consisted of a seat molded to the shape a human body would take
if relaxed in a weightless environment mounted within three
concentric rings. The rings allowed the operator to be turned in
any direction.
A few of the parts--bearings, motors and the like--were
purchased directly. However, all of the major hardware was
produced from raw stock in the WPI machine shops. Joe Gale was
more than happy to help a couple of guys obviously very driven to
develop something on their own. It meant many days spent working
on the lathes and in the welding room. The hardest part was heat
forming the pipe stock into the ring shapes needed. They ended
up settling on a octagon shape; it was a lot simpler just to weld
the straight pieces as needed.
The 'couch,' as it was called, held the telemetry equipment
needed to transmit the signal from the data suit to the computer.
Though simple brush contacts could provide power for the motors,
far too many signals were needed for interface to use them for
the VR links. A battery supply, basic processor, and transceiver
were fitted inside the couch. The user would simply plug his
data suit and goggles into the couch to use the system.
The datasuit was a bit more straightforward, though it meant
a great deal of work. They started from a diving wetsuit; it
provided a good base as it fit the body tightly and provided good
sensory insulation. All of the major joints were fitted with
external cable guides, so that if the joint were flexed cables
within would change their tension. The cables were connected to
rheostats which could vary the signal strength. The more
sensitive finger joints were outfitted with a fiberoptic sensor
system. As the joints were flexed, the strength of the light
signal was varied, and this was translated into virtual motion
for the computer.
To achieve sensory feedback, small air bladders were
installed within the suit. As the operator 'touched' objects in
virtual space the bladders would inflate, providing resistance.
These were run off of a compressed air tank in the couch.
The system was topped off by a pair of goggles using twin
color LCD screens borrowed from an Atari Lynx, simple Sony Sport
headphones provided the aural component, and a throat mike
allowed for speech transmission.
All in all a kludge. But a damn good one.

While Ben, Zoner, and numerous assistants were working on the
physical components, ear and entropy were working on the software
and interface technology. They had managed to get a 486DX2-66
temporarily 'misplaced' and they were using that to run the
majority of the interface. An Amiga borrowed from Jim Skinner
served as the graphics engine. It took some work to get a PC
running Linux to work with an Amiga, all while using kludged
software. But work it did.
The software itself was mostly pieced together from code the
team had managed to extract from the Ikazuchi's system. It at
least allowed them to figure out the graphics codes the
ROOSEVELT's network used for VR interface. That in itself took
quite a bit of trial and error. The hardest job was building the
interface hardware that would interpret the signals from the suit
for the computer. Once that was done it was mostly the simple
matter of tweaking the software to understand the inputs.
Ok, so it was far from simple.

The one part that no one, save Zoner, truly understood was
the need to make the suit's electronics watertight. ear finally
got curious enough to ask one day.
"Zoner, this thing may have been a wet suit at one point, but
why waterproof it now?"
"Ah...for phase two."
"Phase two?"
"Yes. The gyro-rig is phase one. Simple and effective, it'll
allow us to debug the system easily. And I figure once we have the
interface down we can program some games and sell rides on the thing.
Maybe it'll pay for itself."
Ben, who had been working nearby, chimed in, "Good idea, but
you were saying?"
"I was saying what?"
Larry joined in too, "Um...phase two."
"Oh yeah. Well, as good as this is, it still will give the
operator some cues that he isn't in the virtual reality. Like the
pressure of the couch on his back, the texture of the suit, etc."
"I have a solution for that," Ben interrupted.
"Let's hear it."
"We can oil the person down with a water based lubricant, like
KY-Jelly. That way the friction within the suit will be at a
minimum."
"Good plan, disgusting, but good...Anyway, as I was saying.
There will still, even with the oil, be some intrusion by reality.
Phase two will minimalize this. Tell me, how does one achieve full
freedom of movement?"
"Weightlessness?" ear offered.
"Exactly."
"What, you going into space?" Gryphon asked sarcastically.
"No. How does NASA train the astronauts?"
"Water tanks!" ear exclaimed.
"Bingo. If we can get the system to a reliable level, the
next step is to go for neutral buoyancy. We can build a backpack
telemetry unit, ok so we'll lose some time in the matrix, and a
full breathing mask/video/audio unit. We get a tank, maybe the
school pool. Though I'd rather not deal with the chlorine. And
there we go."
"Um...first we need to get phase one working."
"Right," Ben sighed. The group returned to work.

It wasn't until the summer vacation that the unit was mostly
debugged and ready for a test run. Zoner had been practicing
with some simulations Eric and Larry had designed. It took a
while to get used to the virtual world and the suits operations,
but once all of the sensors were calibrated and the initial shock
was gone it was easy.
"Well, I'm ready to rock," Zoner said as he entered dressed
in the wetsuit, "I still fell weird covered in KY though. Ick."
"The sooner we finish the run, the sooner you shower."
"Thank goddess. Ok, let's go." Zoner plugged the suits
umbilicals into the couch and strapped in. ear checking him over
and gave Ben the thumbs up. Zoner settled the goggles into place
and waited. Larry switched on the interface and motor relays,
while Ben established a link with the ROOSEVELT. Anyone looking
through the living room windows of Ben's apart would have been a
bit confused. One of the reasons for the dark curtains.
Jenna's recorded voice began a countdown, "5...4...3...2...
1...Link." And Zoner was flying through the ROOSEVELT's data
nets.
The interface wasn't perfect--most constructs looked like an
early PIXAR short. A few major, and therefore probably
important, constructs had a 'Jurassic Park' realism. Zoner flew
from construct to construct, controlling his motion with
movements of his hands. He loved flying planes; he thought the
freedom was beyond compare. But flying had nothing on VR.
Though the simulations had allowed him to develop his matrix
skills, they couldn't have prepared him for the vistas he saw
before him now. He was like a kid in a toy store, zooming from
construct to construct. He wanted to see everything at once.
Though he didn't draw attention from the other system operators
(he looked normal enough), someone did notice.
Ivory noticed the link to Ben's system come online, but the
data transfers were not those of a normal uplink. They were much
faster, and there was something strangely familiar about the
link. Instantly she was off to see what the gweeps were up to.
She stopped short as she approached the icon floating from
construct to construct. Most of the crew used simple dataterms,
few ever used the VR systems. They were normally reserved for
CAD work and the like. There was something about the
appearance...The icon turned around to leave a construct and
Ivory gasped. Zoner! The icon was constructed of digitized
pictures of Zoner.
At the same time Ivory spotted him, Zoner noticed her. He
momentarily thanked ear and Larry for not making the icon too
realistic. He would have hated for Ivory to see him drooling. He
knew she was attractive, but this was the first time he had seen her
in three dimensions. And Ziggy's graphics didn't compare to the image
he saw through the goggles.
They hovered there for a moment, Ivory trying to control her
surprise and Zoner trying to control his libido. Zoner finally
broke the silence.
"Well, what do you think?"
"I...I mean...How?"
"Gryphon, ear, entropy, and I have been working on this for
months. We didn't want to let you know about it so we could
surprise you. Also, in case we failed, it wouldn't be as
embarrassing."
Ben who, along with Eric and Larry, had been monitoring
events via Ziggy chimed in. "Hey, there was never a chance that
we'd fail!"
Zoner turned to the 'sky' and shouted, "Hey, stay out of
this."
"How did you do this?" Ivory asked.
"This," Zoner gestured to himself, "data suit, VR headset,
and a lot of software. Don't worry, there is no mindlink
involved. I get all my input from tactile, visual, and aural
cues. That's why my icon isn't very fluid, it's all
electro-mechanical input. It's crude, but it works."
"I'll say." Ivory was rather surprised, these college
students had managed to develop a working VR system that was a
good as some of her company's early prototypes. If she had
helped them there was no telling what they could have done.
"Well, this is phase one. There are still a few bugs to
work out, but once that's done we go to phase two."
"What's that?"
"We'll use a neutral buoyancy tank to cut down on the
'reality interference' as much as we can."
"Sounds like you know what you're doing."
"Really? Sometimes we don't know ourselves. Care to show
me around? This is your turf after all."
"Certainly sir, this way." Ivory gave a mock salute, then
flew off into the matrix, followed closely by Zoner.

chm...@nic.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows):

Wanting to learn more about the hardware and software behind
MegaZone's VR uplink, Ivory of course found it very simple to
reach back down Zoner's datalink to the computer he was
connecting from and do a quick scan of the hard drives, programs,
and VR hardware/sensors. Zoner noticed the interface slow down
slightly, but he attributed this to the standard "lag" that
plagues most Internet MUD and MUCK connections. Ben, Eric, and
Larry, however, noticed the drive lights running when the
programs didn't call for drive reads, and started to wonder.
During a split second that she stretched into five minutes,
Ivory analyzed the program. Hmm...rough, choppy in parts, very
obviously patched together with the programming equivalent of
spit and baling wire, yet it ran. It was similar to some of the
early systems the Company used, only obviously slapped together
in much less time. She saved it to some personal datafiles, for
later reinspection.
After finishing with the program, Ivory ran over the sensory
data, and was amused to notice that Zoner's heart rate and blood
pressure were up, and he seemed to be sweating a bit more than
would normally be expected. It could just be from the VR
experience itself, but Ivory didn't think so. -Well, what do you
know?- she thought, smiling inwardly.
It wasn't really a surprise; she knew she was attractive.
She had been even before the transition to VR. And now that a
computer image was her representation, she was capable of
enhancing her looks in a dozen subtle ways to increase that
attractiveness, from the length of her hair to that skin-tight
neon-blue bodysuit she wore that resembled something out of TRON.
She was gratified that it seemed to be working...
Ivory led MegaZone over toward and into a data uplink line,
and they stepped out seconds later into a room filled with bright
screens on the walls and glowing circuit board representations
all around. "This is one of the terminal labs," Ivory explained.
"On the other side of those screens, people are doing the typical
dataprocessing chores that are the same for computer labs
anywhere..." She gave a shake of her head, sending ripples down
her ankle-length mane of jet-black hair.
Zoner leaned over to take a closer look at some of the
screens. Here someone seemed to be debugging a Unix program;
there someone was using what appeared to be an advanced version
of Emacs to write up a patrol report...and there--

You see a troll.
> kill troll
You slash the troll.
The troll pounds you!
You massacre the troll to tiny bits with your slash!
The troll is dead.
> get all from corpse

"What do you know..." Zoner muttered. "MUDders even here.
Guess gweeps are gweeps no matter where you go."
Zoner followed Ivory to another virtual room. Here, Ivory
opened a giant screen in front of them, and projected upon
it--the Earth! "Wow..." Zoner said. "I wrote about this...but I
never thought I would really get to SEE it from this
perspective. At least not for a long time."
Ivory nodded. "It is quite an inspiring sight, is it not?"
Zoner stood there and looked at it for a while, before they
moved on.
The next place they toured was a busy, crowded interface,
with simulated data screens placed all around. "What is this
place?" MegaZone asked.
"This is the Veritech telemetry center," Ivory announced.
"All of this--" she waved her arm "--is dedicated to monitoring
the sensors and instrumentation of all Veritechs on patrol or
strike duties."
MegaZone glanced at several of the screens, with their
seemingly meaningless alphanumeric code strings and sine wave
patterns. "And you can understand all this?"
Ivory inclined her head. "True, it is somewhat overwhelming
at first, but after you understand a few fundamentals, most of
the interpolation comes easily." She pointed to one cluster of
screens. "This Alpha-Beta Legios is making a perimeter sweep at
2,000 miles, that one is carrying scientific telemetry packages
for the science division, and that one--" She paused, took on a
somewhat startled expression. "That one is flying recon over
Serbia."
"What?" Zoner moved over to stare at the screens at which
she was pointing. Some of the data he didn't understand, but
looking closer, he could make out what appeared to be the gun
camera feed, and there was radar, weapon status, engine
readouts... "Since when has this been going on? I hadn't heard
about that." He had heard about the REF in the news--who could
avoid hearing about this strange new "nation" that was joining
the UN?--so he knew something about what he was getting into with
his VR uplinks. But no one had said that they were conducting
earthside operations.
"I hadn't either," Ivory said, a similar look of surprise on
her face. She had been monitoring REF/UN transmissions, but
neither side had said anything about staging planetside
maneuvers. "It is a Shadow Legios, which would seem to suggest
that those on Earth might be in the dark as well."
"Bah," MegaZone said, as the implications of that hit him.
"You mean that the REF might be planning to invade?"
"Just a moment, I'll try to find out." Ivory Tanaka's icon
digitized and rezzed out. Then a second later, it rezzed back
in. "Not invade, necessarily, but perhaps intervene. Listen."
She held up an icon that resembled a cassette player, and the
digitized playback started.
"Captain's Log; July 27, 1993 local; 1946 hrs Eastern Time.
After months of sitting here, watching, and doing nothing, I have
decided to intervene in the Bosnian-Serbian situation. It is a
decision that I have not made lightly, and I am certain that the
command staff would object heavily were they not largely
nonexistant due to heavy personnel losses from the hull breach
during the struggle for Onyx IV.
"The governments of the world are simply watching and
waiting, but not DOING anything. The Americans, French, and
British are CONSIDERING air strikes, but none of them have
committed to anything yet and I don't think any of them will.
They're too concerned with public opinion to get their hands
dirty in any way.
"Well, we don't HAVE a public to have an opinion. We're
something of an army without a country. Or perhaps, our country
is the entire world. We can't stand by and watch it tear itself
to shreds, we just can't. So I have dispatched Shadow Legioses
to survey the different trouble spots of the world. After we
have close-up sensory data, we will act. End of log."
"It looks like we have a new player in world politics,"
Zoner observed.
"Indeed," Ivory said. "Things have suddenly become a great
deal more complicated."

Joe Walker lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling and
thinking about Ivory Tanaka. The enigmatic computer lady had
contacted him several times during the months they'd spent
waiting in orbit. Sometimes she got in touch at awkward times.
For example, when he was typing up his report on a patrol
mission, she would suddenly appear on the screen of his terminal.
How did she DO that?! Not that he REALLY minded. It was a break
from the monotony of his work, and in addition, she had a really
great...view.
But, from what she had told him, a view was all it WAS. She
had no physical body. She was a ghost in the machine. Or so she
said. She had told him (with some reluctance) about her
transferral there, after first swearing him to secrecy. But, she
said, she trusted him. Her look through those memories that
she'd gained from her brief melding with him had assured her of
that. Besides, what could he gain by telling anybody?
To tell the truth, Joe still wasn't sure why he hadn't gone
to his superiors. Perhaps it was fear of getting laughed at, but
maybe also something else. Maybe, no matter how he denied it to
himself, he was just the slightest bit attracted to Ivory.
These thoughts were interrupted by his intercom chiming.
"Yes?" Joe asked, without getting up.
"Lieutenant Walker, please report to the bridge observation
deck in 15 minutes for briefing," Ensign Illeana Coello's voice
said. "And, um...he wants you in your flight suit and ready to
go."
"Briefing?" Joe sprang up, pulling off his uniform.
"Thanks for the early warning," he said drily.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I was just now told myself."
"Forget it, Ensign. I'll be up there in a minute." Joe
pulled on his flight suit, stepped into his boots, grabbed his
sidearm and gunbelt from his footlocker, and stepped out the
door. As he ran down the corridor, a thought struck him. "He
wants you in your flight suit," Coello had said. Who was "he"?
Could it be...No, surely not.
But it was. As Walker stepped into the spacious briefing
room, the figure sitting at the other end of the table swivelled
his chair around to face him. It was Captain Kranz.
Joe saluted, and Kranz returned the salute without standing
up. "Sit down, Lieutenant."
"Thank you, sir." Walker put his flight helmet on the table
and sat down next to it. "I understand you wanted me ready to
launch."
Kranz nodded. "Your Valk is being prepped for flight even
as we speak."
"My Valk...?" Joe's mind jumped to the conclusion that he
had been hoping for ever since they'd arrived here. "You
mean--?"
Kranz nodded. "It is time, Lieutenant, for a display of our
strength, and our unwillingness to let this world we're orbiting
go down the tubes. You are going to provide that show, and a
Super Valkyrie Veritech fighter is just the way to do it. Not
even our Legios fighters carry the weapons spread of a Super
Valk, and in addition, it has better speed than an Alpha
fighter."
-And,- Joe Walker thought, -it's not as ugly as an Alpha
fighter.- "Sir, I'm all ears."
"Good. This is how it will go. Your fighter is currently
being loaded into the dorsal carrier on the THEODORE." The
ROOSEVELT's Horizont shuttle THEODORE had been specially modified
to carry a Valkyrie or Super Valkyrie instead of a Legios, and
had been Walker's atmospheric insertion vehicle on more than one
occasion. "After that..."

The beeping sound in Walker's ears told him it was time to
wake up. He yawned, opened his eyes. The readouts from the Valk
console reflected off of his CVR-3's faceplate. Eleven minutes
to re-entry. Perfect.
Walker ran over the prelaunch computer checks, glanced over
his weapons configuration. He was mounting twelve short-range
plasma missiles under the wings, and 30 medium-range reflex
missiles in the booster launchers. There were four short-range
armor-piercers in the Valkyrie's forearm launchers, and the GU-11
slung on the fighter's underbelly was completely full.
Joe climbed out of the cockpit and looked at his fighter one
more time. All he could see of his fighter, anyway, which was
basically just the fuselage. All the rest of it was on the
outside of the THEODORE, enclosed in the launch brackets which
would release when it was time to go.
Along the side of the cockpit, various hoses and mechanical
waldoes were servicing his plane and keeping it clamped in place.
Joe nodded and climbed back into the cockpit. Punching a couple
of keys, he closed the cockpit. He toggled the switch to retract
the cockpit-entry interface back into the ship, and had a clear
view of space, obstructed only by the nose and body of the
Horizont above and in front of him.
In the cockpit, various indicator lights were shining
steadily or flashing. Joe glanced over the 'boards; everything
was optimal. Time to give the guys in the flight deck a ring.
"Hello up there, this is Firebird One," he said into the
intercom. "I'm reading eight minutes to re-entry. How's your
status?"
"All systems are go, Lieutenant," the Horizont pilot
responded. "Looks like a clean re-entry." He was looking
forward to it, actually--after so many times of dropping the
shuttle in under Invid or renegade Zentraedi fire, a nice,
relaxing, normal re-entry would be like a walk in the park.
"Any radar contacts?" Joe asked, wiping the visor of his CVR
helmet with a piece of cloth before putting it on."
"Nothing out of the ordinary...No, wait. I'm reading several
blips on an intercept course."
"Fs or MiGs?" Joe Walker thumbed some switches to power up
the Valk for flight.
"MiG-29s. I think they're out of Iraq."
"Hmm. Well, they can't touch us anyway. And I'd imagine
they must be violating some major airspace." Joe punched up a
tactical display. "Keep track of 'em, but I don't think they
pose any kind of a threat to us..."

"Sir, we're reading a large spacecraft, radar profile most
closely matching the REF's Horizont shuttle, on re-entry track,"
the NORAD technician reported.
"Where's it headed?" General Phillips asked, leaning over his
shoulder.
"The Bosnia-Serbia area," the tech reported. "What do you
think?"
"Hmm...better get on the line to Washington, see what they
want us to do. In the meantime, get an F-15 flight in the air on
an intercept. Just in case. Oh, and put that fighter's track on
the main screen."
"Yessir."
As General Phillips walked toward his desk/workstation, he
thought about recent events. First the stealth fighter
intercepts, now this. He wondered just what in the hell was
going on.

"Just what in the hell is going on?!" President Clinton
slammed down the receiver on the secure line to NORAD and grabbed
the other phone he'd set up--the direct line to the microwave
transciever set up to link to the ROOSEVELT's comm network.

"Sir, a President Clinton wants to talk to you?" Ensign
Illeana Coello called over to Captain Kranz, holding down the
"mute" key on her console.
"Uh...tell him I'm not available right now." Captain Kranz
didn't care to discuss his decision until the aftermath was in.
If this Bosnia thing worked out, it would mean he would have a
better position from which to address the UN. If not...he
shuddered involuntarily. It could be the biggest blunder of his
career. But he couldn't just SIT there and watch this world go
to shreds.

The 4 MiG-29 fighters closed on their assigned position.
However, these were not ordinary MiGs. These MiGs had been
fitted with long-range air-to-air missiles, modified for ASAT
duty. And they were not flown by Iraqi pilots, either.
ELITE had been tracking the Horizont ever since it had
launched from the ROOSEVELT. They had been waiting for a chance
to retaliate for the destruction of their undersea base, and it
looked like this might just be it. "Shuttle is coming into
range," the flight leader reported. "Stand by for launch in
thirty seconds."
"Standing by..." The reason ELITE was using MiGs for this
operation was actually twofold. First of all, their DarkStar
fighters could not mount this particular kind of missile, due to
a design oversight that was still being patched by ELITE's design
engineers. The second reason was that this way Iraq, or some
other country using Soviet weapons, could take the blame.
"Launch minus ten...nine...eight..." The flight leader
calmly counted down, as his right thumb flipped open the missile
launch safety on the HOTAS (Hands-On Throttle And Stick)
controls. All readouts on his flight computer were go. The
target was firmly locked (via optical tracking--the shuttle would
not suspect a thing until launch). The missiles were armed. All
was in readiness. "...two...one...launch." Eight missiles leapt
from under the wings of the MiG-29 fighters, oriented themselves,
and streaked skyward.

Alarms started sounding, in both the cockpit of the Valkyrie
and the flight deck of the Horizont. "Son of a--!" the shuttle
pilot swore. "Vampires. Inbound. Eight of 'em. Must be
optically-tracked."
"Time to intercept?" Joe Walker asked, placing his hands on
the Valkyrie's HOTAS.
"ETA two minutes, seventeen seconds."
"Emergency separation on my mark." Joe rammed the throttles
to full, watched the readouts as thrust built. "Mark!" On the
flight deck, the copilot jerked a lever down, releasing the
docking clamps, and the Valkyrie streaked forward, out from under
the shuttle. "You guys get out of here. Lose the missiles and
wait for me in orbit."
"That's a roger, Firebird One. We're accelerating to Mach 14
and high-tailing it."
As the Horizont lifted away, Joe Walker looked at the earth
spread out panoramically below him, curving away at the edges.
Beautiful. Though he'd disconnected a bit earlier than intended,
it was not a major problem. He simply angled the Valkyrie
Veritech for re-entry and set thrusters.
But those missiles...hmm. Those could be a problem. Five of
them were still chasing the Horizont (rather uselessly, in fact,
since the shuttle would have reached its Mach 14 acceleration and
outpaced them long before they could catch up), but three had
split off and were following HIM! And while he could accelerate
to max speed and outrace them himself, it would put him way
beyond the target area for his mission. He would have to circle
back, and by that time they would have spotted him on radar. Not
an optimum situation.
Joe was aware that he could simply ignore the missiles and
take the impacts. But it didn't sit well with him to just sit
there and let the other guy hit him. Besides, the missiles could
be tac-nukes or something. You never know. And with the damage
that previous missile had caused just by hitting the recon
gear...
"Computer. Firing solution on those missiles, underbelly
laser. Hit 'em as soon as they come into range." The computer
cheeped its confirmation, and Joe firmly gripped the stick. If
the laser didn't hit, he would have to pull some Gs in the hope
that those missiles didn't have something comparable to a Reflex
guidance system. He nervously watched the tactical readout on
the center Multi-Function Display.
Thirty seconds...Joe wasn't reading infrared or radar
pinging, so it had to be an optical guidance system. Too bad he
wasn't lower down; he could try to lose the missile in the
clouds. Twenty...ten...
The lasers swivelled and fired. Once, twice, three
times...the first missile exploded, destroying the second one.
But the third one was still coming at him! Without even
thinking, Joe shoved the stick hard starboard. The missile
barely scraped by without hitting him. It didn't appear to be
coming around to try again, but just to be on the safe side he
lined it up in the HUD and snapped off a quick blast from the
nose lasers that vaporized it.
"Whew. Now where ARE those pesky MiGs...?" He checked the
tactical display. "They're gone. Damn. Must have landed
somewhere. Ah, well. On with the mission."
Joe reached into a pocket, brought out a small laserdisk. He
glanced at the handwritten label on it, slid it into a small
walkman-type CD player he'd wired into the cockpit audio system.
He hit play, and a song began to play. Riggs, "Radar Rider." It
was appropriate, and from the old 20th-century movie (Joe caught
himself. This WAS the 20th century, it wouldn't be "old" now)
HEAVY METAL, which his fighter had been named after (and bore the
logo from, painted on its nose). He shoved the stick forward,
and began his re-entry.

Clinton picked up the NORAD phone again. The news wasn't any
better this time. A smaller plane, fitting the profile of the
REF's Valkyrie fighter, had separated from the shuttle and was
now on a direct course for Bosnia. There had been missiles
fired in that area, but by whom and at whom was still uncertain.
Clinton set his jaw, looking around the oval office. His
eyes fell on pictures of Hilary, and their daughters, and Socks
the cat. He had to keep them safe, didn't he? It was up to
him...
"That fighter squadron you launched...if the REF plane
doesn't divert and land, you have my permission to blow it out of
the sky." He slammed down the receiver, and felt a little
better. He began thinking about what he was going to say to the
UN about this.

"Sir! Reports coming in from the THEODORE!" Illeana Coello
announced, thumbing some keys and fiddling with a tuner knob.
"They were attacked by ASAT missiles fired from MiG-29 aircraft
before insertion. Lieutenant Walker performed an emergency
separation and is in the process of re-entry. The TEDDY has
evaded the missiles and has achieved stable orbit."
"Thank you. Keep me informed, Ensign..." -They've played
their first card,- Kranz thought. -But the hand is ours. Now
we'll just have to see how the game goes...-

"Unidentified aircraft, this is Sierra Leader, with Sierra
flight. You are in violation of Bosnian airspace. You are
ordered to change your course and follow us to a landing."
"Sierra Leader, this is Firebird one," Joe responded. "I'm
sorry, but that's a no-can-do."
The pilot checked his scopes. 87 mile range...a bit far for
missile launch. "Firebird one, if you do not change course at
once, you will be fired upon." He hit the arming switch for his
missiles.
"And I'm afraid I can't do that. I have a mission to
perform. And before you fire on me, you should know that I am
more than able to knock each and every one of you out of the sky.
So either stay the hell out of my way or get shot down. Your
choice."
The warning light on Sierra Leader's board lit up, indicating
that targeting radar had him pinged. "Sierra Flight, you may
fire when--" Then he exclaimed something unprintable as the
Valkyrie suddenly accelerated straight toward them at Mach 6!
"Sierra flight, break, break!"
The Valkyrie passed between them and was gone as suddenly as
it had come. "Sir...I don't think our missiles can catch that,"
Sierra 3 observed. Sierra Leader grudgingly admitted he was
right.

As Joe Walker passed over the damaged, half-destroyed Slavic
cities, plainly visible in the high noon sunlight, he took just a
moment to reflect on man's inhumanity to man. Sometimes, Joe
thought that where cruelness was concerned, the Regent simply had
nothing on the human race. Considering that it was the Robotech
Masters who had started it all with their defoliation of Optera,
the Invid homeland, he guessed that he was probably right.
But now there was no more time for these reflections. Joe
cued up another song on the CD player as he swooped low over
Sarajevo. The tactical scanning systems were beginning to light
up now, correlating the VF's own sensor output with images being
transmitted from the ROOSEVELT. Blips popped up all over the
contour map--these were armored vehicles, including anti-aircraft
guns, mobile missile launchers, and tanks. Joe keyed up the
thirty that were farthest away but still within range, programmed
them into the missile targeting computer, then thumbed the 'fire'
key.
In a series of KER-WHOOSHes, all thirty of the Super VT's
medium-range Reflex missiles shot from the tubes on the front of
the plane's booster pods. They fanned out and looped skyward,
each one homing on a different target. Now there were just the
closer units to track and kill. Joe grinned, and punched 'play'
on the CD player, and Don Henley's "All She Wants to Do is Dance"
filled the cockpit. He sang along as he swooped down past the
city, sensors locking in on more tanks.
Then flak filled the air, as anti-aircraft guns located and
tracked him. Joe didn't worry; he broke right, locked the
crosshairs on the gun emplacement, and fired a few shots from the
GU-11 and nose lasers to take care of the problem. The ack-ack
guns blew up quite nicely.
Next came a cluster of tanks that were moving up a dirt track
toward a nearby village. Four of the plasma short-range missiles
from under the wings took care of them quite nicely, and Joe
moved on.

"I demand to know the meaning of this outrage!" the Russian
delegate to the UN yelled angrily. "Three minutes ago, I
received a report that an alien aircraft had entered the
atmosphere over Bosnia and was destroying military vehicles. The
aircraft came from YOUR ship!" He pointed angrily at the video
communication screen on which the REF delegate was represented.
"I--er--" the confused delegate, an REF Lieutenant Colonel,
began. Then the image flickered briefly, and the delegate said,
"He acted with the full authority of Captain Kranz. That is all
I'm permitted to say at this time."
This caused a great deal of hushed murmuring among the
delegates of the UN assembly. It also caused some confusion on
the part of the REF delegate, who had actually said nothing of
the kind.
On board the Ikazuchi, Ivory Tanaka observed the fun. She'd
taken the initiative to alter the delegate's dialogue because she
felt that the REF should be presenting a strong front to the
nations of the world, and the Lieutenant Colonel simply hadn't
been briefed on the current situation.

Joe Walker finished dispensing his ordnance. He checked
radar. That F-15 patrol had almost caught up to him...probably
time to leave. Joe converted back to fighter mode, kicked in the
booster pack, and streaked skyward. Just a few more hours, and
he'd be back on board the ROOSEVELT.
As Lieutenant Walker headed for his rendezvous point with the
TEDDY, he couldn't help but wonder what the repercussions were
going to be. He didn't think that any of the countries of this
world were going to want to take this lying down. But he
mentally shrugged. That was Captain Kranz's concern, not his.
Besides, Kranz had probably thought the whole thing out well in
advance. Leave the strategy up to those in charge, Walker
decided.

"Captain, Firebird one has reported successful performance of
his mission and is now on his way to rendezvous with the THEODORE
for the trip back."
"Thank you, Ensign. I'll be in my quarters for the next half
an hour or so." Captain Kranz got up and left the bridge,
walking down the hall to where his room was. His walk was slow,
for there was a great deal on his mind. He was going to have to
make some kind of announcement, to address the UN, he knew this.
What he was going to say was not quite so certain.
His plan had not been well thought-out. It had been a hunch,
a spur-of-the-moment thing. His plan: to show the nations of the
world that the REF was as capable of intervention in world
affairs as any of the other so-called "superpowers." This he
would point out in his address. One Veritech--one old and
relatively outmoded Veritech--had singlehandedly knocked out more
than thirty armored vehicles. Oh, yes, the nations of the world
would complain...but they would realize the power the REF
wielded, and hopefully accept them as a full, voting member of
the council.
The next step would be to send in a Horizont full of troops
and mecha, and secure the Bosnian nation. With their Veritechs
and Cyclone power armor, they could stop the fighting, get the
disputes settled, and police the area to make sure the war didn't
get started again. After that, they could move on to other
war-torn areas, like Somalia. They WOULD bring peace to this
world; Kranz's resolve was as strong as ever.
It was just a matter of how...

[To be continued...as soon as we get together and write it...]

--
Chris Meadows | Robotech_Master's First Law of Superguy:
CHM...@NIC.SMSU.EDU | Continuity is Overrated.
CMEA...@NYX.CS.DU.EDU | Robotech_Master's Corollary: ...but sometimes
CMEA...@NOX.CS.DU.EDU | necessary all the same.