Even though these things give you about as much legal coverage
as a G-string on a stripper, I am going to include it anyways.

Most of the characters in this story are the property of Harmony
Gold, and a whole lot of other companies who's names escape me at the
moment, and are used without their permission.  However, since this
is a not for profit undertaking, I dont think its neccecary to worry
about it.  At any rate, I'm so broke suing would be a waste of time.
The few original charecters in here are mine, so please ask before
using them in a fic of your own.

Comments and Criticisms welcome:  E-Mail Starrngr@aol.com.
Flames will be promptly filed in file 13 and ignored.  Previous
parts of this story can be found at: Ranger HQ: 
HTTP://home.talkcity.com/TheSanitarium/Da_Muck/Libr/wndr/

AND at Sofaspud's Couch HTTP://www.sofaspud.org/




----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tales of the Wanderer: Book 2 - "Wandering Aces" Chapter 10:  "Your
Presence is Requested"


     Once more Muck Thunders seemingly ceased to exist as he was 
relieved on station by the Star Ranger, so to speak.  As the familiar
change crept across him, so did a familiar mental shift.  Not to say
that he wasn't still the same person inside... but there were 
distinct differences.  Star Ranger wasted no time, blasting clear
of the airlock and transforming to his fastest flight mode in one 
smooth motion.     One part of him was receiving a vector from Sammie
on the bridge over the radio while another converted it into a course
and sent him racing down it at top speed.  And all through it, he 
wavered between a fear of not getting there in time and a 
determination to make certain he did.  Time...  that was the critical
factor...

     >>Time, Time, Time... See what's become of me...<< He began to 
hum to himself...

     <<Audio File Identified.  Commencing Playback.>> Surprised,
Star Rangers speed slacked a bit as the first chords of the original
recording of the song flooded through his ears.  Shaking it off, he 
let the song flow over him, encouraging him to his best speed 
possible.

     >>Have you always been able to do that??<< he queried the probe
brain that formed the other 'half' of his consciousness as the song
drew to a close.

     <<Negative.  File was present but un-indexed until you 
Identified it.>>

     >>That's not what I meant.<<

     <<Negative.  Believe new abilities result of damage during 
insertion.>>

     >>Understood.  Can you access Battlepod structural data?<<

     <<Affirmative.>>

     >>Target analysis.<<

     <<Initial analysis indicates standard tactics non-effective.
Commencing alternate tactics analysis...>> A small window opened
in the corner of his vision, containing a small representation
of a rotating battlepod, covered with flashing lines and vectors
as the computer worked the problem and Star Ranger screamed in on the
developing furball...

          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

     Max glanced at the tactical display dispassionately.
The last two survivors of his escort flight had just gone down, but
the enemy was down to a dozen plus their officer leader.  He was down
to his last clip of ammo for his autocannon.  The remaining enemy
looked to be moving for an englobing attack, to try and pull him down
by sheer numbers.  TWO last minute rescues in one day seemed a bit 
absurd to him as he imaged the mecha's hands slapping the last clip
into place;  it looked like today was not his day to cheat death 
after all.  Still, he was going to take as many of them with him as 
he could...

          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

     A most evil sneer crossed Kyhron's face as he held back 
slightly; He was certain that this was the same pilot who had bested
even Miriya Padrino, and now the fool was about to maneuver himself
right into Kyhron's crosshairs... giving him the victory that had 
eluded HER.

     A threat detection signal diverted his attention momentarily,
irritating him.  Clearly the thing was malfunctioning and had 
accidentally categorized a non-threat... if whatever it was had been
less than a minute away, it would have opened fire by now.  Snarling
a Zentraedi curse, he smacked the offending equipment with the back
of his hand, silencing it, then turned his attention back to his 
eminent victory.  A quick jink brought the Micronian square into his
cross-hairs... with no place to dodge without bringing him into the
fire of another pod.  He squeezed the trigger, shocked when instead
of obliterating his foe, his top mounted autocannon exploded instead.
As he struggled to control the damaged pod, an impossibly small enemy
mecha flashed past him at a seemingly impossible speed, but he was 
far to busy to notice...

          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

     Three pods went down on Star Rangers first pass through the 
melee; one to a shattered viewport thanks to the Star shield, another
to sliced off cockpit hinges, and a third had its power grid shorted
out by a well placed EMP pulse.  Max accounted for four more with the
ammunition remaining in his autocannon, and the disarray amongst
the enemy was complete.  The enemy, unable to track the miniature
Veritech that was Star Ranger, fell back; loosing two more of its 
number to Max's accurate laser fire as he returned to fighter mode.
Before Kyhron could stop them, his remaining pods fled the enemy,
only to meet death once the Back-stabber caught them and executed
his own summary justice.

     Max, too, was caught by surprise by this turn of events.  To 
him, one second he was in the final battle, the next the sky was 
clear save for the few retreating survivors.  It wasn't until a 
strange thump emanated from behind him that he finally laid eye-balls
on the Star Ranger, hanging on to his plane over the port engine
inlet.

     "Hey, buddy... give a friend a lift, willya?" Star Ranger asked
over the radio.  The voice, though metallic, was clearly that of 
Muck, and somehow a sense of exhaustion came though both the radio
encryption AND the metallic overtones that replaced Muck's normal
baritone.

     Max had been cleared in on Star Ranger not long after Muck had
been assigned to them, but he'd never actually SEEN Muck in Star 
Ranger mode before.  "No problem.  Sterling Airlines never turns away
a passenger," Max quipped, his mental equilibrium returning.
"Would you like coffee, tea, or milk?"

     "Just home ASAP, Max.  This took more out of me than I 
expected," Star Ranger murmured in return, shifting his metallic
body to lie prone along the top of the plane behind the cockpit
to minimize the disturbance to plane's flight characteristics.
Minutes passed in silence while Max flew the plane and took a good
look at Star Ranger in his rear-view mirrors.  Star Ranger really
was an almost exact duplicate of the Super Veritech that Rick had 
used to bail him out an hour earlier... though Dr. Lang claimed
that he'd already had the design for the super's in mind before ever
laying eyes on Star Ranger.

     "Aren't you supposed to be on CIC watch?" Max finally asked.

     "Had to.  Still got a war to win, woman to marry."

     "Oh?  Who?"

     "Green haired chick you've been 'sessing 'bout."

     "You know who she IS?  AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?"

     "Chill, Max.  You'll meet her when the times right.  Gon' be one
heck of a firs' date, too..."

     Max momentarily considered a quick barrel roll to shake Star 
Ranger up, but settled for a verbal jab instead.  "You, Muck, are one
bat rastard."

     "Tha's nice, Max..." There was a long pause before he continued,
in a petulant childlike voice, "Are we home, yet?"

     "Just about to enter the pattern.  Better break off before 
someone sees you."

     "Right, Max.  Seeya inside..."

          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

     Gloval had just long enough to light his pipe and loose himself
in the view out his office window when the intercom shrilled.
"Sir, Mr. Thunders is reporting as ordered."

     "Very well.  Send him in," Gloval ordered as he swung to face
his desk.  On cue, the hatch slid open and Muck Thunders entered,
accompanied, as always when he was in trouble of some sorts, by Sgt.
Adam Jury and Cpl. John Bailesu.  There was a sort of irony in that,
since their detailing to Thunders meant that they had unusually
high security clearances for someone of their rank.  In fact, given
Thunder's recent predilection for causing a stir without meaning
to, the two guards were probably sick and tired of seeing their 
charge.

     Thunders came to attention and saluted.  "Sir, Reporting
as ordered, sir."  There was something about his tone that caused
Gloval to take a closer look.  There was something about him that 
wasn't quite right.  It wasn't his uniform, perfect as always.  It 
was the person... instead of the correct, stiff posture, the salute
was slightly sloppy and his tan face was rather pale, as if the man
had been drinking.  Gloval wasn't positive but he thought he detected
a slight sway as Thunders stood at attention.

     "You abandoned your post and took unauthorized actions to rescue
Lt. Sterling.  I'd like to know why."

     There was a definite slur to the response.  "Sir, I had no 
choice sir.  No-one else could've made..." the end of the response
was cut off as Muck swayed and started to fall over; only to catch
himself on Sgt. Jury and pull himself back upright.

     "Are you Alright?"  Gloval found himself torn between his 
concern for reminding his stowaway of the regulations he had placed
him under and concern for said stowaway's well being.

     Muck blinked owlishly for a second then snapped back into his 
standard military demeanor.  "Sir, Nothing that some rest and a 
couple of good meal's wont cure, Sir."  Still, that slight sway was
there.

     "While you're loyalty to your squadron mates is commendable,
I must remind you that you ARE under my command, and..." The end of 
the reprimand died in the air as Muck collapsed like a limp sack.
"DAMN.  Sergeant, get a medical team up here.  Have him confined
to the hospital until Dr. Lang assures you he is fully recovered!"

     "Aye aye, Captain..."

          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

     "On your feet, Flyboy.  We're busting you out of here," Max 
quipped as he and Rick entered Muck's hospital room. Muck looked
up from the portable terminal he was working at and smiled.

     "Finally?  I was beginning to think Cap'n Gloval had sentenced
me to a life of hospital food for abandoning my post."  Muck gave a 
hammed up shudder to show what he thought of THAT.  "Fortunately,
this little stay has given me time enough to finally crack the 
capitol strike scenario."  Muck had been confined to the hospital
for the past week, but three days ago had browbeat the doctors into
letting him have a portable terminal on the grounds he'd go stir 
crazy and level the place by accident if they didn't.

     "Yeah, you're out of here," Rick confirmed.  "But Gloval's
also ordered you onto 3 days of leave.  You're also going to have to
take another flight physical and re-qual before you're back on flight
duty, though."

     Muck rolled his eyes at that news.  "Cap'n is down right PEEVED
at my little stunt, I take it."

     "He couldn't decide between giving you a Medal or 
Court-Maritaling you, so he decided to just ignore the whole thing,"
Max observed, as Muck striped himself of the Hospital greens he'd 
been wearing (another concession he'd had to make a stink to get) and
pulled on his uniform.

     "I think I'd almost prefer a court-martial over a week worth
hospital food.  I realize they try, but cooking for 100+ just leaches
any flavor right out of it."

     "Consider it a warning to think twice before pulling such a 
foolish stunt again," Rick advised as a charge nurse arrived with a 
stack of paperwork and a wheelchair...

          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

     The trio of Max, Rick, and Muck strolled down the main drag of 
Macross, the remains of an excellent dinner settling in their 
middles.  The conversation was laid back, consisting mostly of 'what
do you want to do now' and various variations of the same when Muck
saw a familiar head of green hair enter the Close Encounters
arcade. A quick glance confirmed that Max hadn't seen her, so Muck
decided to give fate a helping hand.

     "What about this place?" he ventured, indicating the arcade.

     "Video games?  I dunno..." Rick wavered.

     "Aw, come on, Rick.  You've been moping ever since Cmdr. Hayes
left.  A game or two will cheer you right up!" Max chimed in.  With
the vote 2-1 against, Rick resigned himself to the inevitable
and followed his compatriots in.  As the sights and sounds of the 
Close Encounters arcade washed over him, he admitted to himself
that maybe the other two did have a point.  There was something
about this place that did make him feel better as he joined Max and
Muck in choosing a group of machines...

          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

     Rick grumbled as he worked the controls of the Aseop's Fables
machine.  He knew he had better than average reflexes, and was a darn
fine pilot; His job and the #2 position on the kill lists proved
that.  However, every creature in the game today seemed to have it 
out for him, and he had the distinct feeling that it was playing
with him, instead of the other way around.  Seated next to him, Max
was zipping through the levels with little problem, triggering
a shower of tokens into his payoff tray.  Behind them, Muck was 
playing Ball Gunner, and while Rick couldn't see his score, Muck had
attracted a small group of observers.  He snapped his attention
back to his own game, and went for a snap shot at the fox that was 
trying to snatch his grapes.  He missed, and the game made a 
consoling sound and flashed the game over screen.  Behind him, Muck
mock cursed, mindful of the younger crowd, meaning Muck had just been
killed out of his game as well.  Rick declined to drop yet more 
tokens into the machine to continue, and instead stood and stretched
before moving over to look over Max's shoulder.

     "This is supposed to make me feel better?" Rick mock grumbled
to Muck as he joined him in looking over Max's shoulder.  Muck had a 
tray full of tokens, about twice that of Rick's winnings, but nowhere
near Max's as Max rolled over the game and triggered a veritable
flood of tokens; causing Rick to exclaim "Holy cow, Look at that!"
Then again, seeing the proof of his junior's prowess did make him 
feel better, as if living vicariously though them.

     Max finished organizing his winnings and stood, comparing
the contents of the three trays.  "Hmm, Looks like I'm doing better
than you two are," he observed in his normal laid back tone.

     "Yeah, well, we all know you're THE hot stick when it comes to 
gunnery, Max," Muck ribbed right back.  "How about a challenge
where skills are a bit more equal, eh?"  Rick rolled his eyes at 
this... the two of them had been debating the merits of various
machines the whole time they had been in the arcade.  "Atmosphere
duel, you and me.  I'll even let you have a VT vs. my A-10."

     Max considered the challenge carefully.  Always the hot stick,
he  only had a few flight hours in atmosphere from the SDF's short
sojourn on earth; certainly nothing compared to the number of hours
Muck claimed.  That shy smile crossed his face anyway as he agreed,
and the trio made their way down to the ground floor of the arcade.
Halfway down the last set of stairs, Muck stopped abruptly, nearly
causing a chain reaction.

     "Babe alert, guys.  2 o'clock low, green hair," he reported.
Rick had little trouble picking her out of the crowd watching her,
but didn't think much of it.  Max, on the other hand, was a different
story.

     "Your right, it's her... the one I've been talking about.  I've
been seeing her all over town!  Isn't she something?" Max gushed.

     "Well, here's your chance, Max," Muck nudged.  "She's on a VT 
machine, maybe you could interest her in a match, get to know her a 
bit."

     "Why didn't I think of that?" Max gushed, then took off down the
stairs in a hurry.  "Come on, guys..."

     Rick shot Muck an Evil glare before heading down the stairs
after Max.  "What's up your sleeve this time, Muck?"

     "Who, Me?"  Muck protested, putting on his most innocent face
as he followed his boss down the stairs.  By the time the pair caught
up with Max, he was in deep negotiations with the Green Haired babe.

     "Are you willing to bet all that?" she asked, indicating
Max's tray of tokens.

     "Actually," Muck interrupted, "We'll stake our winnings on this
as well."  Rick shot a surprised look at Muck, but held is tongue.
Miriya's eyes narrowed as she recognized the red haired warrior
who had shown her this place, but the extra tokens would take care
of immediate expenses, allowing her to concentrate on finding the 
pilot who had so embarrassed her.  In the end, that clinched the 
deal.

     "Very Well," she agreed, and the four of them moved to a head
to head machine.  Muck made a small flourish of stacking the trays
of winnings to one side, squarely between the two, before feeding
tokens into the machine.

     "Is level B acceptable to both of you?" Muck asked, receiving
nods from both participants.  He hit the configuration and start 
buttons, and sat back to watch history being made...

          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

     Despite the her premonition, the actual defeat of her red 
trimmed battleoid caused Miriya to gasp and slump back in her chair
in confusion; She's always expected to find the Micronian ace, but 
not like this.  The instant desire for revenge was tempered by her 
knowledge of micronian culture, this place was too crowded for her to
do anything and get away.  In addition, it would be all but 
impossible to get through the crowds swarming the ace.

     The finally indignity was when the red haired warrior slapped
her quarry on the back and congratulated him, only to be told it 
'really wasn't THAT hard.'  She, the greatest Zentraedi pilot ever
wasn't that much of a challenge?  Shame warred with anger, and she 
propelled herself from her chair and started to bolt for the door;
only to be restrained by the wrist.  She whirled to strike down the
presumptuous Micronian, but stopped when her eyes met the calm blue
ones of her quarry.

     "Wait, Please," He asked.  "I've been trying to speak with you
for the longest time.  I'd really like to get to know you better,
and this might be my only chance to get your name and phone number."

     His grip was soft, yet also firm... and his touch sent shivers
coursing along her entire body.  At the time, she assumed it was the
inbred loathing all Zentraedi had for the opposite sex; looking
back on it later, she knew better.  "My name is Miriya," she replied,
"and I don't have a phone number."  

     "Well, would you meet me for dinner tomorrow night?  7pm, by the
peace fountain?"

     "Whatever you want!" Miriya snapped.  "Just let me go."  That
disorienting grip slackened, allowing her to pull free and escape
the arcade.  It wasn't until the confusing feelings of that touch
faded that she realized that she couldn't have done better if she'd
planned.  'Oh yes, my enemy.  I will meet you tomorrow night and end
my humiliation, so I can leave this strange, confusing place...'

          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

     Muck looked up from the sea of paperwork on his desk at the 
chime and hollered "Enter".

     Max, not wearing his uniform for once, entered and looked over
the mess and shook his head.  "You sure have a strange idea of 
recovery leave, Muck."

     "This?  Not exactly... pilot rosters and preliminary training
scenarios for the capitol ship plans.  Besides, I'm so relaxed I'm 
ready to chew bulkheads and spit gun rounds.  Whadddya need, Max?"

     "I'm trying to decide what to wear tonight.  I was gonna ask the
skipper, but he's not in his quarters.  What do you think?  The Tie,
or the gold chain?"

     "You could always go whole hog.  Tuxedo, top-hat, cape, cane,
and mask.  Be a real man of romance and mystery."

     Max considered it for a moment.  "Well, there is a tux shop in 
the city...  Naa, She'd probably think I was some sort of costumed
freak.  Nice thought, though."

     "Am I the only person in the multiverse who fell for that one?"
Muck asked the ceiling before returning his attention to Max.  "Don't
bother with tie or chain, Max.  I think you'll appreciate the freedom
by the nights end."

     "Sheesh.  You make it sound like I'm on my way to a knife fight,
not a first date."

     Muck just rolled his eyes and made a shooing motion.  "Shoo.
Go, have a good time, Max.  Just be back by morning muster, OK?"

          *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

     Muck leaned back in the outdoor chair and watched the Macross
come to life around him.  A little after 7am, ship time, and the 
street was only minimally crowded, with a fairly equal balance of 
foot and vehicular traffic.  He was not quite alone on the sidewalk
section of Java Joe's as he sipped his drink; three tables over there
was a young couple engaged in conversation, their eyes with room for
nothing but the other.

     Muck sighed at that, following it up with another sip.  It was
times like this that he worried about ever making his way back to 
Patricia; He'd like nothing better than to be sitting staring into
her eyes the way that young couple were.  And that didn't take into
consideration that he still had to get home first and make certain
the people he'd left behind THERE were all right...

     The green haired girl said something her blue haired companion
found amusing.  Muck snorted in amusement and went for another sip 
when the caffeine levels in his brain reached sufficient levels to 
boot up the logic section of his brain.  It was just as the coffee
reached his tongue that said logic cells provided the facts that 
Green Hair + Blue Hair must equal Miriya and Max... and that Max was
about to be late reporting for duty!  This provoked a rather 
spectacular shower of coffee, drawing Max and Miriya's attention,
as well as a couple of looks of disgust from pedestrians who had just
avoided Muck's impromptu fountain impersonation.  Muck had a bad 
feeling, even before Max started to babble, forgetting he was in 
public...

     "Hey, Muck!"
                              "Um, Max?"
     "There's someone I'd like you to meet!"
                              "Max."
     "Miriya, this is Muck.  Muck, Miriya Padrino, of..."
                              "MAX!"

     Max shut up and looked quizzically at Muck.  "What?"

     "Ix-nay in ublic-pay, Max," Muck growled, low enough that only
Max and Miriya could hear.  Max looked around, as if noticing where
he was for the first time in a while... entirely probable, given the
level of smitten written all over the blue haired pilot's face.  
Realizing how public the present venue was, Max blushed a beet red 
and nodded.  "Fred's around the corner.  Save the talk till then,"
Muck finished, chucking his now empty coffee cup in the trashcan
and heading out around the corner.

     Miriya was puzzled by this exchange, but put her trust in Max as
he gathered her by the hand and lead the two of them around the 
corner as well.  Her confusion only mounted as Max opened the door
to one of the larger private transports Miriya had seen about town
and helped her in.  The red haired warrior, Muck, was already in, 
sitting in the front seat of the vehicle and turning to face them.
Miriya wondered what happened to the companion Muck had mentioned,
since there was no-one else in the vehicle.  Still, the way the 
street noises dampened once the doors were closed indicated that 
their conversations would at least be more confidential.  This show
of common sense made her feel more at ease for the first time since
she'd looked in those blue eyes the night before and her world 
changed completely.

     Muck looked at the love-struck couple in bemusement.  However,
there were still some problems that needed to be handled right now.
He turned to Miriya first.  "Miriya Padrino of the Quadrano elite
battalion, I do believe.  We've met, but never actually been 
introduced.  I'm Micheal Thunders, but everyone calls me Muck."  
Miriya nodded slowly at this, absorbing the information; and 
recalling that she had, in fact, encountered the red haired warrior
in the city prior to that fateful challenge a day and a half ago.  
Muck's attention focused on Max next.  "Max, you're supposed to 
report for morning muster in like, five minutes, you know."  This got
Muck a shocked look from his fellow aviator, followed by an 
expression of surprise as Max checked his own watch to confirm that
fact.

     Max recovered quickly though.  "Good thing we met you then.  
We'll need a ride to the base anyway... I've got to take her to meet
Rick, and we'll probably need to get his permission first if we're
going to..."

     "Time out!" Muck rumbled, making a t gesture with his hands.
"You're going to take her to meet the CAG dressed like that?"  He 
gestured at Miriya's vest and pant outfit.  "Bad Idea."

     "I'm not leaving her alone, Muck.  Forget it."

     "Didn't intend that. You and your new Missus are going clothes
shopping."  Muck cast around, gaze sweeping across the storefronts
on either side of the street.  "Get her something nice a frilly...
like that, over there," he finished, indicating the yellow sundress
in the storefront across the street.  "Meet us in the officers
mess for lunch.  I'll cover for you till then."

     "OK, Muck.  See ya then..."

--------

To be continued in Chap. 11: Wedding Bell Blues.