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 Ace Chapter 9: Strange Bedfellows "OK, that about wraps it up except for two more points. First, With Sinker and Muck's planes out of action, We'll be forming into two 5 plane wings." Rick informed the assembled pilots of Skull squadron from the front of the ready room. "Go-Go, you're with me in one flight, CP, you're with Max in two. Sinker's going to be on CIC watch until the techs get his plane put back together. Second, we have to provide an officer to assist in the Macross rebuilding work. Since Muck's plane will be out of service the longest, he's got the job. He'll be off of the duty roster for the foreseeable future until the techs can rebuild his plane and Civil Defense releases him. That's all for now, but we've got the 08:00 Bar-Cap tomorrow, so hit the sack, people." With that dismissal, the noise in the ready room rose significantly as the pilots of Skull Squadron separated to go about their other business. As the pilots filled out, Max looked over at Rick. "Do you really think this is such a good idea? I mean, Cmdr. Hayes seemed pretty miffed at him over the weapon snafu..." "I know... I'm hoping out of sight, out of mind will apply here. I doubt even Muck could get into trouble supervising a work party." "Wanna bet, boss? This IS Muck we're talking about here..." * * * * * * * * * * The streets of Macross were bustling with the rebuilding effort as Muck left the supervisor tent to round up a work crew. It took only a moment, as he ran into a large group of eligible males, who'd just emerged from the dubious shelter of an alley and were standing around looking quite lost. When Muck saw the three in the center of the group in sackcloth, he knew instantly what to do. "OK, Men, Attention!" As expected, Zentraedi military indoctrination snapped to the fore as the deserters snapped to and fell in. "We are now work group Zeta, and we need to clear this mess so that the construction crews can get down to the rebuilding work. Let's get our tools... Right FACE! For'd March!" Muck turned a blind eye to the three sack-clothed men who 'fell out' of the formation, in an almost casual manner. 'I'll take care of your fellow deserters, guys. You just do what you need to do..." Across the street, Miriya Parino watched this with concealed glee at the undisciplined antics of the micronians... then her eyes narrowed as she recognized Karita, the man in charge of the sizing chambers aboard Breetai's flagship! She scrutinized the others, and nodded. The whole work party had the rough edged looks typical of male Zentraedi. Clearly, Breetai had infiltrated a unit into the city as well. Smiling at this, she left Breetai's troops to their mission and strode off on her own. With this concentration of troops on the street, she hoped to find her quarry, or at least eliminate even more of the personnel on board from consideration. The redhead in the green trimmed flight suit, for example, couldn't possibly be her quarry. His oblivion to the fact that his so-called work party had no idea of what they were doing was clearly an indication that he lacked the raw perceptive intelligence that her quarry possessed, not to mention his choice of colors! * * * * * * * * * * The expression on the faces of Cmdr. Hunter and Lt. Sterling as the defectors were admitted to the conference room was the final piece of proof Gloval needed. The defectors clearly recognized them as well, as they burst into speech. "We know you! Your one of the two who kissed during the interrogation!" That hadn't been in Lisa's official report, but the way Lisa blushed indicated it was true. Given the fact that these three were also clearly NOT fifty-some feet tall also proved Lisa's claim that there was some sort of size altering device aboard the flagship. He turned to Lisa. "Do you recognize these men?" "Yes, Captain. They were present at our interrogation on the enemy flagship. Of course," she finished with a wry smile, "They were a bit taller at the time. But, what are they doing here?" "Apparently, they and a few comrades have decided to defect. Since they are clearly who they claim they are, we need to decide what to do about their request." "We can't send them back, Skipper," Max observed in his quiet tone. "Given what we saw on the flagship, I doubt they'd get a very warm reception." "I'd have to agree, Captain," Lisa chimed in. "Given their military oriented society, They'd probably be shot on sight." "Very well. Get Caruthers and Maistroff in here. Oh, and Hunter and Thunders as well." * * * * * * * * * "There has to be some attempt made at peace," Rick was addressing the assembled officers when Muck entered the briefing room. It only took a glance at the three defectors in the 'hot seat' for Muck to know what he had walked into. "Capt. Thunder, USAF reporting," he interjected, as Rick finished. "No need for that, Thunders. Caruthers and Maistroff have been briefed in on you," Gloval replied gravely. "You're just here to offer an independent opinion. "Captain, I must protest! We still have no way of knowing that this person really is who he claims," blustered Maistroff. "In fact, given the appearance of these infiltrators, it makes it even more likely that he was just the first of many. We could literally be facing an attempt to seize the ship from within!" Muck rolled his eyes at Maistroff's hyperbole, but it was Max who leapt to his defense. "With all due respect sir, but 'Captain' Thunders has put his life on the line for us repeatedly, most recently taking a VT with an experimental payload up against an enemy CAPTIOL ship, before taking on a numerically superior enemy aboard ship. That doesn't sound to me like the actions of an enemy agent." "And got shot out of his plane without scoring on a single pod, I might note," Maistroff rebutted. "After which, instead of retreating to safety, he remained in the battle area and was instrumental in the rescue of several critically injured civilians despite the fact that the enemy was being sent to an ambush almost right on top of him," Lisa jumped in. "In fact, the only reason he eventually left the area was that I ordered him to withdraw to maintain secrecy about certain of his abilities." "That will be quite enough, all of you. Mr. Thunders' loyalties are not the topic at hand. How we respond to this request is," Gloval declared. "You can't be serious, Sir!" Caruthers protested. "Do you really intend for us to live with them? To lie down with the Lion, when we don't know if he's still hungry?" "How do we know this isn't some sort of Trap?" Maistroff added from the sidelines, content to let Caruthers carry the battle for a while. "You weren't aboard that cruiser, Sir. I'm telling you, these three had their first taste of freedom here, and the word is going to spread." "If we grant them Asylum, We show that our way of life is better," Lisa added. "If three, why not three hundred, or three thousand?" "Thirty already have," Muck added, causing the 'official' defectors to take a second look at him and pale. "WHAT?" roared Maistroff, as he and Caruthers both surged to their feet. "There are more of them, and you didn't tell us? My god, man! Who knows what sort of mayhem they could be engaged in right this moment!" "Why should I?" Muck retorted. "Clearly, if I had, you'd have them in your brig right now, subjecting them to who knows what! And they're no threat to the security of the ship. Hell, they don't even know which end of a shovel to use!" At this turn of events, the three defectors, momentarily forgotten, looked positively ill. "SILENCE," roared Gloval, returning order to the free-for-all that had erupted. "Now, how is it that you know THIS, Mr. Thunders? More of your other-worldly knowledge?" "Actually, no sir. They got themselves drafted into my working party clearing Macross for re-construction." At that statement, the whole room erupted into chaos as conversations flew everywhere, developing in a heartbeat into shouted recriminations and counter charges. The three defectors seriously considered trying to sneak from the room before attention centered on them once more. This tableau was only broken by the arrival of one of Lang's glassy-eye technicians. Apparently oblivious to the argument his arrival terminated, the technician delivered a report to Gloval and left, leaving the room in pregnant silence as Gloval leafed through its pages. "This is a report on the Alien's cellular structure I asked Dr. Lang to perform. I think you will find it quite interesting," Gloval noted as he passed the report to Col.'s Maistroff and Caruthers. "This is preposterous!" Maistroff finally blurted, as the two colonels finished the report. "There is no way that our two races could be effectively identical." "Life finds a way, Colonel," Muck observed, once again on the sidelines. "Indeed it has, Mr. Thunders. Indeed it has," Gloval observed. "In fact, given this data, there is no possible way I could refuse their request. It would be, pardon the pun, Inhuman." "You can't Sir!" Caruthers protested for the umpteenth time. "That's the sort of decision that the council should make, not us!" "Since the council seems to have wiped their hands of us, I'm not at all concerned about their opinion," Gloval snorted. "The two of you are dismissed." Maistroff and Caruthers rose stiffly to their feet, saluted, and left, clearly still very irate. "You haven't heard the end of this, Cap'n," Lisa warned. "I'm certain they'll contact Earth and try and have your decision overturned." "Let them. I am still the final authority aboard this ship," Gloval replied with bared steel in his tone. "Mr. Thunders, where are the other defectors right now?" "I'm sorry sir, but I can't tell you that." "That remark could be considered insubordinate, Mr. Thunders..." "Yes, sir. Shall I report to the brig now, Sir?" "One moment, Captain," Lisa interjected. "Muck, why can't you tell us?" "Because I don't know, Commander." Max nudged Rick, who automatically passed Max a five-credit note. Max had to nudge him again before Rick caught on. "Sir, Muck here tends to be quite literal. He doesn't know because he is here now, and they're still down in Macross with his working party," Rick observed. Gloval sighed and dropped his head into his hands. "Very well. Lisa, find out who took over Mr. Thunder's working party when he reported here and find the other defectors. Get them assigned quarters and someone to help educate them about life aboard. The rest of you are dismissed, and Mr. Thunders is confined to quarters until his plane is restored to flight status." "Aye Aye, Sir..." * * * * * * * * * Muck looked up from yet another revision to what had become his personal windmill, the plans for executing capitol ship strikes with Veritechs, when the door chimed, then opened to reveal Rick. "Evening, boss. What can I do ya for today?" "Just passing along some news, Muck. You're halfway out of dutch with the captain. The techs have Stinker's plane back together, so you're replacing him on CIC watch. You're still in hack while not on watch, though." "Roger that, Boss. When's my next watch?" "Oh-four hundred, so get some rest, Muck." "Aye aye, sir..." * * * * * * * * * The oncoming watch officer in CIC sighed and rolled her eyes when she saw Muck relieving the flight officer on watch. It was safe to say that the dislike between them was professional, not personal. Muck was the epitome of coffee snobs in the first place, in her eyes. The pain in the backside about it wasn't even the fact that he insisted on bringing his own, home brewed supply with him on watch, either. It was that he never offered to share it, and supplemented that with pointed barbs about the motor oil quality of the coffee in the CIC urn. While Lt. Sandra 'Sandy' Sands preferred her caffeine cold and carbonated, coffee WAS much better at keeping one awake in the false twilight of CIC. So, she poured herself a cup and steeled herself for the six hours ahead, pointedly ignoring Muck Thunders until he came to her. "Ma'am, I have the CIC flight safety watch. No planes in the air at this time." "Very well, Muck." "Do we have the flight schedule yet, Sandy?" "Just came out. We put up the Bar-Cap again in about an hour, and then we have a shuttle launch with escort at oh-eight." "Wonderful." Muck's tone was heavy with sarcasm. "Gonna take a lot of mental motor oil to keep the brain running till then." "Shoo, Muck, and let me get back to work. Some of us DO work for a living, you know." "Yes, Ma'am..." * * * * * * * * * "One thousand three, one thousand five... Four? Putz. One. Two..." CIC FSO is one of those jobs that sound more important than it is. The problem was that the Veritechs were very reliable... and there weren't a lot of options for a pilot in space if his bird went tango uniform on him. Still, when it happened, options were needed fast, which was why Muck was here, being bored. He glanced between his upraised feet, cushioned by the SATOPS manual at the big plot and sighed. Every time he got near the controllers to see what was going on, Sandy chased him away, leaving him to watch the master view from across the room and count holes in the ceiling. The sound of the threat alert snapped him to his feet, and he was over at the threat board without consciously moving there. Sandy looked over at him and grunted, but said nothing else. The picture displayed was depressingly clear. A large raid, fifty to sixty in number, had appeared between the shuttle carrying Commander Hayes and the SDF-1, their vector clearly indicating they were going after the shuttle. "Putz." Muck's tone said it all, including a desire for a more violent epitaph that would have been out of place in the female-staffed CIC. "Indeed," concurred Sandy. "The only group close enough is Greenback 4, and they're all rookies. By the time they get there, its going to be all but over." "And they can't double back without running smack into them," Muck finished with gloom in his voice. "Better pass it all up the chain, Sandy, and hope the captain over-rides us." Sandy's long look after passing the report left no need for words. Quietly, the two watched as the enemy closed in and swirled around the escort, which had fallen back to keep them away from the shuttle. A dozen red blips vanished, then a friendly, then two more. "Come on, captain..." Muck murmured, not realizing he was talking out loud. "Make the call before Max's had it..." Sandy turned to look at Muck, but her question was interrupted by a query from the Bridge. "Muck, Capn's asking how fast can the AVT get there?" "Call it four minutes at max with a good pilot." Sandy conferred into the mike again, then nodded. "Cap'n says do it," she reported. "I'll call the hanger, you get the CAG." "On it, Sandy," Muck replied turning towards his watch desk. Sandy accepted the mug Muck handed her upon his return without comment, sipping while Muck slipped on a spare headset and plugged in. She glanced back over at Muck with raised eyebrows. "Yours?" "Yup. Now you see why I can't stand the watch pot. Not it's fault, really. I think the steel used for the big pots absorbs coffee oil somehow." The two winced in silence as Sammie shouted old code co-ordinates over the open frequency to Lt. Cmdr. Hunter. "OOPS," Sandy noted. "Not Sammy's fault, Sandy. CAG wasn't going to be on duty till tomorrow. Plenty of time to give him the new codes then," Muck replied, defending the bridge officer. The Armored Veritech shot from the catapult, and the two officers watched as the vector arrow built rapidly. "3.5 minutes to intercept," Muck noted as the vector stabilized. "The CAG is good." Sandy took another sip from the mug. "Sterling just lost two more... its going to be close." The two officers lapsed into silence, frustrated at having to watch the events from a distance; both urging Rick Hunter to arrive before it was to late. "Yes!" the shout went up across CIC as the Super VT pierced through the enemy formation and a half dozen blips vanished. Sandy winced as the Super went through a crushing deceleration before whipping back at the remaining enemy. More enemy blips vanished, and then they'd clearly had enough, as they began to fall back away from the shuttle and its two escorts. A sigh of relief echoed around CIC, prompting Sandy to look away from the threat board. "Buckle down, people... still a lot of space out there. Let's keep an eye on your own sectors, ok?" she reminded the turned her attention back to the inter-phone. "They're recalling Sterling, he's Winchester," she told Muck. "Hunter will escort the shuttle the rest of the way. Better get back to your books, flyboy. The shift on deck haven't recovered the prototype before so you're going to be busy briefing them." "On it, Sandy," Muck confirmed, removing his headset and dropping it on the watch table behind them. The tech spec's in question were locked in his desk, as a sop to ship security. Even after the appearance of the defectors, no one in CIC really believed that there was an effective way to get information off the ship - and the FSO needed that information to do his job. He was deep into the document, reviewing the data to brief Paddles (1), when the alarm sounded again. Looking up, he realized that the remains of Kyhron's attack force had looped back around and were moving to intercept Max, the lone survivor of the original escort. Rick and the Super VT were committed to protect the shuttle, and Max was still to far from the ship to commit a rescue force, assuming Gloval would for just one pilot... * * * * * * * * * On the bridge, the effects were chaos as several reports came in at once. "Sir, CIC reports her FSO just abandoned his post," came the report from Kim, causing both Gloval and Claudia Grant to look over at her in surprise. "Sir, I have a new paint, close aboard," reported Vanessa from the defense co-ordinator station. "It's giving the computers fits. It scans like a Veritech, but the signal strength doesn't agree with the range gate." (2) It took Sammy, un-intentionally, to clear up these events. "Sir, I have Star Ranger on Tac-one, requesting a vector to intercept Lt. Sterling. Should I give it to him, or order him to return to base?" Gloval fought the impulse to sink his head into his hands and sigh, instead giving Claudia a pointed look, which was returned with a sort of 'what did you expect' sort of wordless shrug. He settled for a sigh, instead. "Well, give him his vector, Sammy. And have him report to me in my quarters when he returns... if he returns." "Aye aye, Sir. Star Ranger, vector to intercept is grid Lambda three-two," Sammie acknowledged, as Gloval sank back in his chair and debated shooting his troublesome stowaway... Continued in Chapter 10: Your presence is requested. ----------- (1) Paddles, or Landing Signal Officer (LSO) is the officer responsible for guiding a pilot in for a safe recovery aboard ship, and is the one who decides if a plane is making a safe approach or not. (2) Radar measures distance as time from signal transmission to return. To focus on certain distances, a 'Range gate' ignores signals before or after a certain delay. However, signal strength is a secondary check. So, Muck's creating a close signal that looks like it should be farther away...