Comments and criticism welcome, either publically or
privately. MSTies away...;)
-The Reverend Prez
________________
Liars and Dreamers
by Presley H. Cannady and others
______________________________
Copyright 1997 Presley H. Cannady
Copyright 1997 Anime/Manga Development Group
Copyright 1985 Harmony Gold
Copyright 1982 Tatsunoko Productions
Copyright 1982 Studio Nue
This story is not to be bought or sold, in whole or in part. The
electronic publication of this novel is intended for free access, and
does not intend to infringe on the rights of Harmony Gold USA. The
author has not accepted and will not accept any remuneration for this
work. This book embodies a plethora of writing philosophies and events
derived from the original series and mutually "sanctioned" source
material, the Robotech RPG, and the McKinney Novels. The author
expresses no interest in the canonical value of this work.
Fourth Edition 1997
____________________________________________________________
Presode Two
"Beginnings"
Robotech IV - The Odysseus Epic
Act I: Superdimensional Starforce Orion
by Presley H. Cannady (cannady@magiccarpet.com)
and Lou Barnes (lbj@magiccarpet.com)
_______________________________
But this story takes place long before Commander Noriko Hirota fought
that battle which hung peace in the balance. It began long before the
tragedy of the Third Battle of Rubia. Long before the day I stepped
onto the Academy campus, greener than a Rigellian dollar bill. No, it
began even before what I once thought to be a beginning.
-the preface to Kyoko Yatsumi�s Diaries of the Odyssey
* * *
Earthdock, Medium Earth Orbit, August 22nd, 2090
WHEN LOOKING STRAIGHT ON, AS THE FIRST RAYS OF THE NEW DAY�S SUN GENTLY
caressed the lucid, grey-white finish of her outer hull, it was hard to
believe that the tremendous, scepter-like structure, suspended thousands
of kilometers above solid ground, could trace its roots to the debris
that had littered near-Earth space for nearly two-hundred years. Her
elegant and elemental form, silhouetted against the fiery monstrosity
rising over the Earth�s curvator flooded the void with a brilliant
illumination. Below, the dawn began to etch the outlines of continents,
only to witness the tirelessly animated air masses push sprawling,
white-grey overcasts into place--obsfugating the refined detail into a
white and brown-bluish vagueness.
From the vantage of a distant observer, drifting within Earth�s
orbital space, the form of the station began to take on a light of its
own; the initial radiance of the sun diminishing as the observer grew
accustomed to the increased brilliance. Instead of the magically
twinkling, castle in the night-sky, a lustrous, imperial form remained
in its place. Whereas the evening brought the focus to the thousands
upon thousands of tiny points of light radiating life from the station�s
hull, daylight went further to coalesce all that nocturnal fairy magic
into a single lifeform, as grand as any mortal vision of paradise and as
beautiful as the soul, as seen through the mind�s eye. Indeed,
Earthdock Space Station took on a life of its own.
The wholeness of its form, however, deceived the eye; within its
bowels, and underneath its outer membrane, the same lively and sparkling
luminousity that could only be appreciated in the cold light of the moon
continued.
"The re-instatement three commanders charged with the violation of
the civil rights of three Zentraedi units stationed in the Southland
"Malcontent" Zone has erupted in protests from the Hatewatch Foundation,
an America based operation that has been formally known Klanwatch and is
now the leading Confederation non-profit organization dedicated to the
tracking of hate groups. The fundamentalist-influenced Furies Rebellion
has expressed discontent with the hearings, but had been seen marching
on the same day as the Terran-Only Earth League. This hate group has
protested the Zentraedi presence since 2015, and has protested the Invid
Sulagi contigent in Australia, which had gone incommunicado over a
century ago following the San Fransisco Accords, as well as off-world
Confederation races establishing homes on Terra. President Yuri
Tatayanov of the United Planetary Confederation has severely expressed
his displeasure with the military court�s decision, and plans to endorse
a case that will bring these military personnel to a federal court.
"The signing of the Marduk Treaty last month has sparked riots in
Monument City, particularly those who point to New Macross, abandoned
almost eighty years ago, as the result of holding peace with the
Zentraedi. Zentran and Meltran members of the Hatewatch Organization
consider the accusations untasteful and safely against the public opion.
"In financial news, the Mutan Stock Exchange has bolstered...."
The news brief droned on as the ceiling-mounted screens were largely
ignored by the hundreds of passerbys. A few, perhaps, might have
gathered around one of the larger wall screens, stretching from ceiling
to floor and spaced roughly one per section. Still, unless an important
announcement from Arrivals/Departures came on, most were content to go
about their business. Unlike the VIP or the corporate receiving
terminals, this particular deck catered to the private traveler.
The Sentinel�s Day Break had brought millions of tourists to Earth, a
sizable minority traveling from the outbound colonies under Terran
jurisdiction and an impressive many from other Confederation worlds.
All of them arrived to enjoy the summer-long celebration marked by one
of the largest annual veteran memorials in the entire star-nation.
Shuttlecraft and transports of all classes readily transported this
diverse mob of pilgrims to and from the blue-white world. As the
largest and most visible structure in near-Earth space, Earthdock served
as a transition point between the stars, Terra�s Lagrange Space Island
colonies, and the Earth itself. Even though hundreds of other, smaller
stations serviced the stupendous increase in traffic, Earthdock carried
the greatest burden; thirty-nine percent of all intra-Terra Planetary
System Traffic proceeded through the starbase.
Earthdock�s significance as a crossroads for tourism only matched
its necessity as the Terran corporate reality�s advance base into space
and the primary command facility of both Earth�s and the Confederation�s
armed forces. Still, the station had been designed and constructed to
be massive, and her immense cubage alone effortlessly handled the
segregation of Earthdock�s three primary responsibilities while placidly
housing them within a single edifice. With all that space, it seemed
only natural for humanity to demand a few creature comforts,
particularly one-million cubic meters of recreational space. That,
combined with Earthdock�s internal citidel and rotating colony, all
located within the lower portion of its axis, allowed for thousands of
private, small-business entrepreneurs to open on over a seventy-eight
decks. In fact, various recreational and public domain areas were
spread throughout the station�s interior, mostly located within the thin
outer shell of Earthdock�s form. In addition, the station�s designers
attempted to capture the aesthetic appeal of Earthdock�s environment;
public observatory lounges proliferated throughout the station�s outer
hulls, like pores in a patch of flesh.
It came as no surprise that one of the most appreciated views
onboard the station was the Main Public Observatory, located right next
to the civilian space transport terminals to permit arriving and
departing wayfarers--Terrans and aliens alike--to relish a final glimpse
of one of the most beautiful, living worlds in this part of the galaxy.
The view, as one might expect, was more than enough to capture the
lively imagination of an eight-year old child.
The sparklingly youthful eyes of an innocuous, young Kyoko darted
about the Earth�s western curvature, searching the dark forms that
marked a pre-dawn overcast moving across the Southern Pacific. The
continents and islands lay tranquil, cloaked in the hemispherical night,
although she could easily point out the brilliant lights eminating from
Honolulu, situated on Hawaii-proper. As her gaze moved from the world
below to the bleak darkness of the vacuum that was only two centimeters
of transparency away, she could find nothing to hold her attention for
very long. From space, most of the other orbital stations and colonies
were out of view, especially at ten thousand miles away. As Earthdock
fell around the Earth, her gaze finally caught the semi-crystalline
Panama Tower. The spyre was well over thirty thousand kilometers in
height, one of two such wonders on Earth, and hundreds in the entire
Confederation.
As the sun rose in the east, she gazed widened eyed as the last rays
of the glowing orb transitioned between states of lavender and red,
finally turning a lovely scarlet before bursting over the horizon.
However, Kyoko�s view gazed directly towards the Earth�s surface.
Magically, the sun�s illumination danced across the Pacific,
dispelling with the darkness and cloudy mists of the early morning as
the definition of Hawaii�s eastern-most tip began to refine itself. The
lights slowly flickered away as Earth�s most intimate stellar relation
demonstrated its ferocious dominance. The water, a deep blue under the
morning sun, seemed so still and calm--one could only appreciate the
conquistador�s nomer from the distance obscurity of the vacuum.
A small shape appeared as first, a bright star on the face of the
Earth. As it grew larger, "Little Ki" recognized it as a small
passenger shuttle, just like the HOTOL that skirted them from Hasake
Spaceport to--
"Ki!" a hand clasped heavily on her shoulder. "Damn it! Why can�t
you stay with the rest of us?!"
"You said a nasty word!" the eight-year old quickly retorted,
although Kyoko�s rebuke hardly phased her fourteen-year-old sister.
Pushing back two ribbon-like tails of full, dark-brown hair, which often
fell too far in front of her cheeks, Linna Yatsumi dragged her sister
away out of the observatory--her grip slightly rough and clearly
unfriendly. "I�m gonna tell mom!"
"Yeah, yeah," Linna said nonchalantly. "That�s if mom doesn�t kill
you first. C�mon, you little brat."
* * *
Earthdock was the largest structure ever assembled by mankind. Although
the Department of National Infrastructure currently planned to release a
new breed of starbase, which would dwarf even this one, Earthdock
remained the Confederation�s sole monolith. Basically, the design
consisted of a long axis; divided the short way in half by a red line.
Two conic-like hemispherical "caps" adorned the tipe of the axis, while
two other, rather diminuitive umbrella-shaped cones were located on each
main cone�s under-rim--serving as a reinforcing joint connecting the two
hemisphere�s to the main axis. The larger truncated hemisphere, Section
Alpha, "capped" the main axis--serving as the primary docking ring. The
lower one, Beta, faced the opposite direction on the central axis. The
design was held resemblence to old 20th century Terran sciencefiction
vidmovies.
One of the supervisors on the project, a conservative engineer by
the name of Tahashi, commented. "It looks like the Goddamned Mushroom,
right outta Star Trek." The approximation was rather accurate, and the
resemblence quickly become the butt of respectfully genteel
space-architectural gibes.
The main docking cluster contained roughly two-hundred and fifty
three kilometers of free volume for the reconstruction of the UN Spacy
military ships and mecha. Many of the vessels had been destroyed with
the previous Earthdock and other orbital facilities during the Marduk
War. The main docking ring alone could support up to a flotilla of a
hundred thousand vessels of average size, and stretched one-hundred and
fifty kilometers in radii.
Just above center, three beams stretched out for forty kilometers,
and two-hundred meters in width at the narrowest point. These beams
served as access conduits for ships, shuttles and peoples moving between
the round clover-like tri-docking assemblies, three on each crux
extension from the extending beam. The three support beams were placed
equidistant from each other along a small ring on the central axis,
connected by sweeping curves into the infrastructure and supported by a
powerful structural integrity field. Otherwise, the structural
stability of such massive extremities would rate zero against the tidal
war between the Earth and her moon. Situated between the two mushroom
"axis caps," the beams supported three cap-like structures. They served
both as docking rings, which operated as supplementary to the primary
rings, and as housing for additional facilities. Four other mushroom
cones between the tripartite beam structures and the main docking ring
were aligned with the primary conic structure--base "down." Two more,
below the tri-beam assembly, were constructed in the opposing direction;
following the endcap suit.
In primary leaf of the 270-degree "branch"--the one pointing down
towards the Hawaiian Islands, the indefinitely swamped International
Stellar-lanes terminal: second exterior ring, section Echo-Tango, Deck
Five-Six-Zero--a tall, venerable woman--probably in her
late-forties--scanned anxiously through the crowd. Her attire was
typical of most civilians returning from the Sentinel�s Day summer
celebration; the khaki-shorts and pastel colored tee-shirt motif had
changed very little in nearly one hundred and fifty years. Standing on
her toes, she finally sighed in relief as she caught sight of her
prodigal daughters. "Nevermind, David! They�re back!"
David Yatsumi acknowledge, her; he waved his hand in the direction
of his parents, Catherine Yatsumi--Chief Botanist of the RSS
Koyatoma--and the new CO of the same vessel, Commander Hiro Yatsumi.
"Ki," Catherine turned to her youngest daughter; kneeling to
Ki-chan�s height, despite the uncomfortable bustle of the crowd.
"Watching sunsets again? You like sunsets, don�t you, sweetie?"
"Sunrise!" Ki corrected her. She was right. At this time,
Earthdock�s orbit had placed its tilted end face the east--one side of
the counter-clockwise-rotating station was always tilted away from the
Earth. However, Ki-chan was lucky to catch the sunrise over North
America as the "Twelve-to-Six" arc--just opposite the 270-degree
leaf--was reaching the half-way point to its aphelion. Looking away
briefly, Catherine felt briskly through her sidepack. After a moment of
thought, she blinked as if she had recalled something., she turned her
husband.
"Did you bring the-"
In immediate response, her husband held up a self-recorded
multivid-card, labeled "Earth�s Sunrise/set�s A01." Kyoko delightfully
snatched it from his hand, stuffing it into her jacket pocket.
"She could use them as a screen saver when we get back."
"I still don�t know how to put one up," Catherine threw her hands on
her hips. Having gotten a chance to spend a great deal more time with
her children, she took wry notice that her kids actually worked better
with their personal terminals better than she did, and Catherine was
undergraduate computer science major, too! "Must be your side of--"
She was cut short as the arrival call for their flight came over the
loudspeaker. "Flight Arrival Rivendell has now entered the shuttlebay.
Passengers for Flight Rivendell One-Three-Three please proceed to your
assigned gangway."
* * *
"This is Golf-Tee-Mike-Charlie," How the hell did I get caught up in
this chickenshit outfit. Major Presley H. Cannady V, an RSF-Aerospace
Force officer temporarily attached to the AF�s 2nd Commerce Escort
Wing--detail normally pulled by the Spacy, gazed out into the interior
of the massive Earthdock through his canopy�s transparency. The
shuttle-bay alone was several hundred meters wide, supporting the
massive amounts of shuttle traffic that passed through this area. The
"four-o�clock high" docking ring itself was thirty square kilometers in
capacity, supporting over a hundred small cruisers, vessels, frigates,
shuttles, and VTs like his own. "Escort clearance Eight-mark-Eight
Clear-Sierra. We�re ready to roll, Rivendell."
Just had to live up to the family legacy, eh? he asked himself,
thinking how much easier and generally more comfortable his life would
be if he were working with his brother, now the president of the largest
corporation in the galaxy, TXI Encom. However, the direct line of
Presley Horatios had all served as officers in service of whatever
nation (or star-nation) the family patroned at the time. His direct
ancestor, the second Presley Horatio Cannady, was largely responsible
for the family tradition; he assumed that each and every one
following--including PHC-II himself--grumblingly accepted their lot and
life and did their duty.
"Copy that, GTMC," the captain, a recent refugee from the hectic
the serviceman�s life, replied; her voice brimming with authority.
Major Cannady bristled slightly. He hadn�t struggled for twelve years
to take orders from an ex-Spacy fighter jock--a former lieutenant
commander, in fact. Surprised at his reaction, he quickly rebuked
himself as the captain went on to an abbreviated commo checklist.
"Commo signal reads five-by-five. Data-link synchro--nominal. Just keep
your pants on now; we�re almost finished."
He suddenly realized the tension he was feeling. "All right,
Shuttle BSL Rivendell One-Three-Three. It�s time get your cute little
ass moving."
"Watch it, Golf," the reply came back. "We have ladies present."
A gruff hurumph, followed by a curt "all right, out" cut the
channel.
He carefully piloted his fighter on the starboard side of the red
shuttle, patiently waiting for the last of the passengers to board.
Through the transparent boarding shaft, using his rear-view camera on
high-zoom, he could see the faces of a hundred or more men, women, and
children--human and alien--staring right back at him in with mixed
feelings of awe and agitation.
* * *
Commander Hiro Yatsumi held the hand of his youngest daughter as he
boarded the shuttle not as an officer, but a tired vacationer and a
weary father. As he and Kyoko stepped onto the moving gangway, he
watched as it slowly slid through the crystal clear umbilical, the
seemingly minor docking ring panning all around it.
Another shuttle, from British Spacelines, quickly rushed by;
probably on the same route as the Delta liner. Only this time, three
escorting mecha craft--two third-generation Ultra Valkyries and one of
the new VF-2 Khybers--rushed past the shuttle on the port side, heading
for the "straight-to-space" lane and directly out of the ring. Such
clout could only mean VIP, either an upper-echelon Defense Force officer
or some sort of high-up political player. David Yatsumi moved up to his
father�s side, taking in the view with the same admiration as Mr.
Yatsumi and young Kyoko. This was David�s last summer with his family
for sometime; he had graduated with the Class of �90 at the UPC Robotech
Space Forces Academy, Annapolis Spacy Campus. Ensign (First-Class)
David Mikiyasu Yatsumi would return home with his family; his
assignment, as the tactical officer onboard the DG-4294 RSS
Philomel--the second most important vessel in Destroyer Squadron 74,
homeported over Jarao IV. Hiro�s lips curled back into a grand smile,
for he also started out in DesRon 74, ten years ago.
That brings back memories, he thought, looking to the shipyard just
eighteen kilometers to his left. A single light carrier--probably under
refit--slid past his field of view, while two small, diamond-shaped tugs
tractored it across the maintenance-only lanes to the nearest available
drydock.
"Can you tell which one that one is, son?" he decided to quiz the
unsuspecting 19-year old.
"Uh...warp pylons. That�s...ah...four pylons, so it�s either
a...er...definitely an SDF-12," The SDF portfolio classification system
was a facile method of classifying the two-hundred thirty-five capital
ships (Category Able) of the Confederation since 2023. SDF (Ship
Designation Fixation) represented the function class sequence. Design
categories, a superfluous, intermediate classification echelon not
necessarily invoked to warships built after and outside the SDF-7
Portfolio, denoted the specific design features ascribed to several
warship classes: the blueprint to which a series of ships were built.
The young man pressed up against he window, peering at the markings
of the ship. "About the size of a battlecruiser..so it�s got to be a
Monitor Port�, Rilitia-class. Bravo-Charlie-One-Zero-Niner. All right,
it�s the Potomac. The home of the VAQR-99 �Clone Strikers,� CCVRW-13,
right?"
The "Clone Strikers," as Hiro remembered from the recent war, barely
survived the Battle of Yamin Maxia. They were one of the most elite
electronic warfare and recon squadrons in all of Carrier Recon Wing 13,
if not the entire Fourth Fleet.
"Good son," Hiro patted his head. "Captain Winsdale�s ship. You
remember Tim Winsdale, right?"
"Yeah," David rolled his eyes. "Since I was seven, and you were the
tactical officer. And I know, you�ve got your own command now."
"That�s right. Ten years, and now she�s all mine," Comannder
Yatsumi snorted. "And if you work hard enough, you can do it in...well,
you�ll do your best."
The older Yatsumi checked himself, putting his arm around his son�s
shoulders. He had resolved to make sure he didn�t push David�s career
or obstrusively interfer. David would have to do this on his own with
as little cojoling or manipulation as possible. His father had helped
him by getting David ready to apply for the Academy and, as well by
teaching him showing the ropes of military life. Nothing could be
achieved by pressuring him and making David�s career decisions for him.
He would make sure David would succeed by his own diligence and
ingenuity, not by his connections. The SDF-12 protfolio spaceship
brought back memories of a friend who had told him that once. More than
a friend, long departed on a journey that forever sundered their paths.
"I wanna see!" Kyoko shouted. She had a dire interest in everything
Daddy and Dave did, which often brought a sigh to her mother and a
hurumph and an eye roll from her sister. Hiro chuckled, lifting the
young girl to his chest. She quickly gaped as she saw the Potomac pass
by in all of its glory. Kyoko watched the entire interior of the
Earthdock pass her by. Something rounded the central rotunda to which
the shuttle had docked. Something massive and silver.
"My god," Linna gazed at the magnificent form as well; it had come
within three kilometers of the shuttle bay, and the view through the
transparent boarding tunnel was marvelous as the streamlined,
sterling-silver vessel streaked overhead at an impressive
acceleration--despite it�s observance of Earthdock traffic regluations.
The arrow-shaped warship blazed towards the main space doors and out
into space. A Rilitia-class warship, the Utopia was the flagship of the
Fourth Fleet. The last class to hold that title was the Cheranko
vessels, with most of its representatives long gone into the cosmos with
the expedition to Tirol. Both Linna and Kyoko were captivated, even as
Shelley coaxed them to move along as the boarding line traffic finally
picked-up.
"Good morning," the attendent took their personal belongings. The
computer next to the entrance registered the Yatsumi family�s tickets
and verified the status of their luggage. "Seats 787-791, forward,
second deck. If you will follow me...?"
"...and thank you for flying British Spacelines," �Captain Keiko
Yamata,� or rather a computer controlled image of her, greeted the
incoming traffic.
* * *
"Final seat preperations are set. Warp sled is fixed properly."
Keiko stared out onto the right wing of her red bird. The
streamlined nacelle affixed into the power source of the shuttle gleamed
in the station lights. She gave a thumbs up to the work pods that
scurried away back to their respective docks. Their approximate ETA over
the fifteen lightyears was about three days, at superluminal "velocity"
equivalent to approximately 1825 times c, or about Threshold Factor-57.
"Let�s blow this popsicle stand," she flipped the switches to
various systems as the hum of the engines revved through the ship. The
low gentle rumble vibrated for a second before dying out completely.
"Engines are online. Kingspin has been accuated. Field generation is
nominal."
As smoothly as a blood cell in a healthy artery, the shuttle removed
itself from its gangplank, overtaken by its escort which took position
just to the forward left of it. Its wings retraced twenty degrees
downward for maximum mobility during dock procedures.
"Ahead, five-five-zero accel," Once clear the station, the shuttle
began to approach the maxim of a one-fourth light-speed; a velocity
change that no Newtonian propulsion system could ever hope to achieve.
The gravity sublight impellers within the nacelles came to life,
instantly translating the shuttle from a state of rest to an "unnatural"
state of acceleration. Only the inertial compensators spared the crew
from a fate remarkably similar to that of a bug quashed on the
windshield of an aircar--only infinitely more gruesome. The scarlet
civilian liner quickly traversed the fifty kilometer distance to the
descent mark. From there, she dived into the access corridor beneath
her, manually flying the shuttle through the access tubing of that lead
to the shuttle entry/exit doors.
"This is Traffic Departure Control Five-Two-Four-Four-Groucho to
Rivendell One-Three-Three Juliet-Victor Eight-Oh-Five-Eight-Three. We�ve
got you on the visual �Able Tango-Bravo Tango� at three zero eight; on
the scope. You�re clear for fold at Sierra-Tango five-by-eight-mark
three-three, over." The radio blared as they exited the station. It
quickly decreased in size as the fusion engines pushed the ship away at
a speed toward the moonthat would be considered awesome by the old
Apollo mission standards.
"Acknowledged Departure Control 5244-Groucho," Keiko went into a
mode of speaking in the airline jargon that Mackie was learning to
grasp. Instant calculations of warp physics and travel time rushed
through her head in seconds, as he confirmed with his console. "We read
you five-by-five. Tachyon datalink is green. Heading to Lunar Orbit.
San Fransisco, you getting this?"
"Sorry, we had a bit of a coffee spill down here, Rivendell," San
Fransisco Dock Traffic Control came on air. A brief shuffle could be
heard over the speakers. "Final clearence from the Traffic office is
go. You�ve got clean skies ahead."
Mackie knew that if on the rare chance they had "rain," departure
would be delayed. Warp space was a delicate area, and launches were
scheduled usually to both the convenience of the passenger and the
safety of the weather. Considering these two factors usually didn�t
abode well together, they "compromised" a bit in safety factors.
However, today wasn�t a day to worry about flight plan ion storms.
He was dead wrong.
* * *
"This is Golf-Tango-Three-One-Niner," Major Cannady signed in.
"Commencing departure. Gravity locks on."
The traffic control broke into laughter. "We�ve got you, Major.
Golf-Tango-Four-Eight-Eight and Golf-Tango-Three-One-Niner to sector
Sierra-Tango--coordinates five-by-eight mark three-three, Luna
departure."
"Copy that, commencing escort procedures," he responded, silence
once again reasserting its firm grip over the cockpit. Even the humming
of the ionic fusion generators his bird packed seemed to drown out as
his focus shifted to the task at hand.
* * *
"All right, old man," Keiko said. "You got the transactions completed?"
"And that�s the way you talk to your old CAPTAIN, shame on you," the
balding commander replied. "Yeah. Zero-by-five-by-eight. They�re in.
Hold on, clearing with San Fransisco final warp status. Diagnostics
complete."
"Course projected, ETA three days at T-57; Final ETA, seven
days--via Rommells Belt Gateway towards tachyon markers at the General
Sector Bravo 90.6. We�re ready."
"Yes...uhm, that�s about it," Keiko replied. She eased on the
throttle control as the drew farther from the monolithic station below.
"Cislunar orbit, warp fold in T-minus five
seconds...four...three...two...one...MARK!" The peristalic fields
enveloped around the velocity shields that enveloped the Veritech Escort
as well. As the fields slowly built up on the sitrum scale, the ship
seemed to pause slightly, accelerating two zero-point-two-five c in what
seemed (and in actuality was) like no time at all. Finally, the
millisitrums of focused gravitic-stress piled onto every point of the
artificially generated gravity field, slowly bringing the grav-field to
that critical stress unit of one full sitrum: the gravity stress
required to "translate" into the realm of hyperspace. The shuttle and
her escort jumped to practically beyond the barrier of light, and
stretched into the infinity of hyperspace. As realspace folded around
them and stars flew by with everdescent pastels, Keiko turned to her
crew.
"Not bad. Anyone for Chinese?"
* * *
"Goddamn it!" David mutterred the curse low enough for no one to hear,
except Kyoko.
"He said a bad word, mommy!" David glared at her little sister, who
has pointing her index finger accusingly at her older brother.
"Sorry, Mom," he apologized civily. "Cut my finger on this...stupid
knife.":
"Go wash it out son," but David was already moving. Hiro smiled at
his young daughter. "You know, pilots don�t have to tattle all the
time, Ki."
"I want �dani water!"
Catherine smiled at her daughter, who begged her father to take her
to the Eridani establishment down the food court. "Go on, Hiro. It
can�t be that bad."
The defeated father moaned. His last experience with alien cuisine
had left a lasting impression on his taste buds, something no known
mouth-wash in the universe could wash out for nearly a week. Catherine
smiled knowingly at her husband and Linna just wolffed down her
cheeseburger; she was rather unimpressed by the whole situation.
"You know you guys spoil her," Linna sighed. Shelly just tapped her
hand sharply for the fresh rebuke and returned to her book. Hiro�s eyes
diverted from his daughters momentarily and shifted to the nearest
viewshield. He watched as the stars streaked by through the
gravitational distortion, magnificent and brilliant. Only those with a
grim familiarity with the darker workings of hyperspace travel could
understand the consequences the field distortion exacted beyond its
fatally beautiful effect on illumination.
Commander Yatsumi�s brow furrowed as he turned back to his meal.
* * *
Two days later, the shuttle dropped out of its personally sustained
hyperspace jump, and then submitted the entirety of its bulk to the
tractoring cul-de-sac of the Gateway. Located in the interstellar
emptiness that lied some fourteen thousand astronomical units from the
last planetary orbit of Ross 987--a planetless, M0-class star that--like
many others--had drifted aimlessly through the Core World sectors for
aeons.
Captain Kyoko Yamata gazed out at the self-lit, free-floating
edifice that was the Gateway, the only noticable body besides the
insignificant dots that represented entire stellar systems. Indeed, the
emptiness of interstellar space had long haunted the nightmares of
almost every starfaring race in existence. The Terrans had succumbed to
the unholy darkness soon after the Great Severance--hyperspace fatigue
had forced them out of that mysterious realm of instant existence into
the "warped" confines of "inferior" hyperspace. Whereas the spacefold
drives Terrans had inherited from the Tirolians had distorted space so
finely that distances in what was called normal space could be covered
in an immeasurably small unit of time, the far inferior grades of drives
mounted on Zentraedi ships--and the even lower-grade gravity impellers
humanity had finally constructed on their own--instilled a measure of
isolation within the Terran psyche. Now, the depths of gloom and
despair that accompanied every patch of "empty vacuum" remained an
everpresent imprint on the Terran spacefarer�s soul, and the desire to
spend the least amount of time possible in such a void only heightened
the longer one dwelled within the blacknesss.
To call it a perfect vacuity, however, would only serve to diminish
the natural fear that deep space instilled in creatures raised in loyal
devotion to the light of suns, moons and stars. Instead, objects
blacker than even the emptiness punctuated the vast waste, and in what
superficially seemed like deep, empty space, dark--and deadly--surprises
lay invisible since time immemorial; concealing their fatal artifices in
a cloak of natural darkness. In deep space, gravity reigned not only as
obviously as it did in the deep wells of stars and giant planets, but in
the deadly stealth of the blackness. Here, objects many thousands of
times more massive than any visible star ate light as if it were the pit
of hell itself; and mankind had found a new reason to fear the eternal
night.
Nevertheless, man�s nature--the nature of all sentient life--sought
to turn a disadvantage into an advantage. With the understanding of
gravity, a culture progresses into a new enlightenment. Harnessing
gravity, mankind turned to tame the universe�s natural pitfalls and
twist them to his own use; throughout the First Quadrant, humans and
non-Terrans alike have discovered the benefits of applied
gravitics--hyperspace travel key among them. For humanity, the answer
came literally tumbling out of the sky; hurtling Earthward ninety years
ago in the form of an ancient, Tirolian warship. In the Corron Empire,
the painfully slow synthesis of knowledge between heavily competitive
families had forced the evolution of gravitational physics to spread out
across hundreds of thousands of years. On Mutanak, the one-world and
one-society mindset had often stifled ideas for centuries at a time,
putting the technology for the sub- and supralight capable gravity
impeller back nearly five millenia. Then, on Ca�poeoa, the technology
came in the form of a gift, delivered nearly twenty years ago by the
grace of the United Planetary Confederation. Hyperspace travel grew as
a natural outgrowth of these discoveries.
Gateways were massive, hexagonal structures--roughly
one-hundred-fifty kilometers in diameter--that allowed vessels to
traverse the great distances in a matter of days that their otherwise
weak superimpeller drives demanded months to match. However, the
penalty the Great Severance had levied on this revolutionary technology
presented itself in the form of the Gateway�s limited range--roughly a
few hundred lightyears. Relay stations permitted the fine-tuning and
boosting of gravitic pulses--"ripples" of force in realspace that
indicated hyperspace activity, such as a warp transit--that passed
through within the sensor net�s proximity. By amplifying this gravitic
pulse, generally by making use of naturally occuring gravitational
phenomona, the Gateway network. Once in the hyperspatial "wake" of the
Gateway�s artificial wormhole, the semi-megastructure focused its
gravitational energies towards one of many hundreds of beacons that
reached across the Confederation. Through an extensive network of these
expensive, synthetic "faster-than-light" conduits, the dream of a
realtime civilian interstellar community had finally been achieved. For
this reason, most civilians thought of distances between stars in the
form of the number of jumps--or transits--through these artificial (some
were actually "tamed" Class two gravitic anomalies) bridges through the
emptiness of space.
A rapid series of exchanges between Gateway
Alpha-Tango-Five-Sierra-Niner Control and the navigation computers
onboard the shuttle craft. Currently, several hundred vessels were
passing into the eternal wake of the gravitic transit, their hyperspace
signatures catalogued, filed and cashiered as if they were time-slot
cards punched into a shift-clock. The technology behind this
marvel--the multiple transit "wormhole"--was breathtakingly fascinating,
although it was equally perplexing. The shuttle craft, one of fifteen
queued for the next transit through the "Rommells Belt"--a name selected
for an arbitrarily-classified "hyperspace lane,"--quickly assumed it�s
position near the mouth of the Gate.
Peering into it, many would have noticed the inutterable darkness of
the hexogonal ring�s interior. For the most part, the Gateway
produced--more accurately, agitatingly conjured--a singularity-less
black hole; a wormhole for all intensive purposes. When activated, the
gravitational wake tended to curve light into a "spherical" gulf of
darkness. The popular science fiction notion of a pyrotechnic, spiraled
sink-hole capping one end of a three-dimensional tunnel proved wholly
inaccurate. The mouth of a wormhole, artificial or not, was the shape
of a globe. At least as far as the grav- and electromagnetic sensors
were concerned.
A fold operation through a Gateway was not unlike that of a gravity
superluminal displacement drive--commonly known as the warpfold drive.
The crew followed the exact same procedures leading up to the transit as
they had before going to warp in Earth�s orbit. Only now, the crew had
to reconfigure their gravitic stabilizers--or "grav-sails"--to navigate
the hyper-wake of the Gate�s wormhole, which dwarfed that of a normal
fold�s stress values by at least an order of a hundred mikes.
Cannady�s Veritech maneuvered during the interim, carefully aligning
itself in relation to his escort assignment. Momentarily, they would
enter the darkness before them; finding themselves racing along at an
apparant velocity of fifty-thousand times the speed of light. Although
an untamed wormhole theoretically delivered a body "instantaneously" to
its destination, those forms of short cuts included a variety of
astrophysical realities to grim to think about.
A Marine aviator, Cannady felt no need to dwell on such subjects; he
tried, instead, to remind himself of the safety the shuttle�s gravity
sail cul-de-sac would provide his fragile fighter.
The time passed slowly by as the shuttle drew to the fore of the
line.
* * *
"Nearly a perfect one-point-oh p3Y-stress break. "You are good, Cap�n.
We barely made a dent in the Flyode Sheet."
Mackie said while wolfing down a healthy portion of the chicken chow
mein that Keiko had returned with. "Great food, by the way. New
take-out place?"
"A quaint little one on the C-Court," she announced proudly. "Best
in space-borne Hunan province cuisine."
"So when did you take a liking to Chinese food, Cap�n?" Fallenburg
asked, not even looking up from his sweet-and-sour pork.
"Right after eating that thing you call stroganoff," Yamata
quipped. Fallenburg feigned brokenheartedness, and then laughed. He
was an admittedly bad cook, he couldn�t manage a replication fast food
restaurant without giving someone food poisoning.
"I wouldn�t talk," Fallenburg snorted back jestfully. "At least I
don�t cook out of a box." All three laughed. Keiko had absolutely no
cooking skills whatsoever her self. When she signed aboard the
Fallsburg, the main mess hall had been out of commission for a month and
officers were forced to fend for themselves with whatever rations the
galley supplied--the captain of the ship had decided that enlisted
personnel should be the first priority of the chief cook. She had spent
the first eight months eating the only thing she knew how to cook ever
since she was a child--instant ramen.
"One point for the old guy," Keiko chuckled. Mackie started to look
at her unordinarily.
A pause, as Mackie gathered his thoughts together. Reclining back
in his chair, he decided to ask a question that had been egging him on
all morning.
"So Cap�n," he said, starting up conversation. "What�s the Defense
Force like?"
A pause, and a long one to. Mackie could literally feel the air
being cramped with nostalgia. "Uhh...guys."
"You�ve got to be in it, I guess," Fallenburg said first, leaving
Keiko some room to maneuver into the the conversation.
"Yeah, I was a Veritech pilot--U-Valks--back then," Keiko replied.
It had been slightly more than a year since she had left the fleet, her
ten years in the service completed. At 28, she had been one of the
youngest squadron commanders ever to grace the UN Spacy�s aerospace
contingent.
"I was detached to the Tenth Fleet, Reserve--well, back when there
they were still a reserve," Keiko had gotten in before the
fleet--really an over-glorified battlegroup--was attached to the Fourth
and Third Active Fleets and sent to what was then the Forward Front--the
leading edge to one of the Confederation�s longstanding enemies, the
Corron Empire. Before that, the reservists she worked with were
bloodied at the Battle of First Yamin Maxia, during the Marduk War.
"Well anyway," she continued. "I did my six active--did a damn good
job flying Thunderchiefs in the last two--and cut out while I still had
the time."
"Too top it all off, the then-Commander Fallenburg back there
retired with me," she pointed her thumb backwards. The old man grunted.
"Anyway, I didn�t re-register with Selective Service--although that
doesn�t amount to a hill of beans if we get into a war, especially after
that nasty business around Maxia. We had a fun time, though. Lost some
friends, but got a lot back in return."
She turned her head and gazed as the distant stars streaked by
through the forward transparency. Mackie blinked understandingly and
looked back at his controls.
"Looks like rough weather ahead," he mused.
* * *
The major shivered as he looked at his long-range sensor readings, which
employed tachyon particle beams from his TAC-CON fixture; allowing him
scan instanstaneously what it would take light months to years to
reach. Like a nervous mother, he kept quickly shifting glances from his
console to the shuttle he was escorting. The warp sled actually
augmented his own added warp boosters, built into his Ultra-Valkyries
weapons-pod. Like the old protoculture-powered ships, the relatively
weak warpfold was moldable to be able to fold objects from twenty meters
to two kilometers from any point relative to the vessel�s surface. Once
pass the Flyode�s Sheet, the time diliation and warpfold contigency
shrunk to the normal levels, keeping the transported material in a
physically unimaginably small amount of time-space. Unlike the
spacefold apparatus, in which the protoculture process actually eased
into a completely different and much faster velocity realm of
hyperspace, warpfold demanded a cataclysmic leap into the lower realms
of hyperspace, the kinetic energy of the fields drained and lost with
the initial contact of the Warp (not transwarp) Transitional Threshold.
"Looks like some chop ahead," he took the liberty to say.
"Copy that, Golf," the shuttle commander replied. "Nothing we can�t
handle. At four-eight Alpha Under, I�ve got ETA in one-zero hours.
Turbulence is on the increase. Are we clear for manuever?"
"Missed the passing lane," Keiko replied. "Three shuttle lanes west
destination-relative, and we can�t budge and inch." It was true.
United Planetary Confederation Traffic Regulations stated even
regulations for Interfederation supralight traffic. However, abiding by
these statues could possibly prove more perilous than in their
violation.
* * *
Two hours later, Mackie looked dangerously at the board below him. The
tri-dimensional chess set sat on the turned-off console between the
navigator and pilot�s seat. After awhile, one of the charmingly
beautiful and dim-witted--in Keiko�s opinion--stewardesses arrived with
some beverages; allowing Mackie to take a quick break from the intensity
of the game. The vice-captain of the British Spacelines Flight School
chess team was actually losing, heavily, and had been for the past three
hours. Fallenburg was watching one of the hyperspace transmultivision
channels forwarded to the shuttle by hyperspace transmitters graciously
spread throughout the sector, while wolffing down a club sandwich he had
ordered half-an-hour earlier.
"Mate in two," he said proudly, staring at the opening his rook
had. A mistake.
"Queen timed in to midlevel rank three, column two," The attack was
almost two swift. A recovered rook--one he had sacrificed both bishops
and countless pawns for, suddenly fell victim the black queen. The
holographic depiction was excellent--the warrior queen beheading
Mackie�s brilliantly placed rook with an amazon�s blade. Pinned in by a
queen three ranks in front and above of his king, a black rook two
columns left and under, and surrounded midlevel by his OWN pawns,
Mackie--dumb-founded and humbled--was forced to resign. Keiko folded
her arms victoriously as the chess set "disappeared" from view.
"Not bad," she looked at Mackie, who was obviously unhappy with the
fact that his defeat meant a month�s worth of lunch on him. "But I have
to admit, I was captain of the Fallsburg�s chess club--no one in three
parsecs of the Sol System came even close to my teacher."
"You played chess?" he turned, his scowl replaced with a mildly
sarcastic curiousity.
"Well, I wasn�t one of those super jock recruiters you see in those
damned holo-commercials," she replied. "In fact, I weighed about ten
pounds more than I do now."
That wasn�t saying much. Mackie had always had a teenage
attraction, a sort of private crush, for his captain. She was a
formidably built woman, whose Delta uniform emphasized her feature even
more so--just thinking about it prompted Mackie to cross his legs. Even
at ten pounds more, it wouldn�t do much. Keiko was a strong six-foot,
and just and inch shorter than he was. Her auburn hair flowed
beautifully in a ponytail as she gracefully overlook the flight
readouts.
"It�s getting rougher," she said worriedly. Mackie reassessed his
priorities and immediatly turned back to his screen. Sure enough, the
disturbance had increased; at least fifteen kilositrums more than
usual. That meant a heavy ion storm, probably with stray tachyon
residue. Already, she was complying by safety regulation by setting a
course around the flight-
Suddenly, the panel sparked as the console displayed a massive
surge. Before anyone could interpret this, the bridge crews eyes seared
with white light. Keiko screamed as Mackie heard someone hit the floor
hard in the rear. Finally, the light was replaced by a great shudder,
and blackness.
* * *
For the people aft, the hellish experience had just begun. Already, the
cries of panic arose from those who found themselves temporarily blinded
from the light. Part of the Yatsumi family had been closest to the
foreward bulkhead of the foodcourt, and was spared the full force of the
flushback. But fear and panic were already settling in.
"MAMA!!" Linna Yatsumi cried out. Nothing. David quickly pulled
on her arm, beckoning her to follow him, but she simply pulled away.
The shockwave had hit soon after the blinding light, shattering the
apparently strong fibercast overhangs like cheap glass. Amid the metal
and strewn wires were the screams, and the stench of those who were
dying or doomed to do so.
"She�s gone! She left us!" she started breathing heavily, shouting
in a nearly incoherent tone. David attempted to drag her from the
strewn carnage, but to no avail. Linna kept crying and sobbing, having
fallen into deep shock.
Suddenly, she felt a pain to her neck, and as she slumped into
someone�s strong arms, her eyes closed and she sunk into oblivion.
Meanwhile, the computer was pronouncing final judgement on the
uncalm and the slow, "Kingspin failure imminent. Twenty minutes to
reach minimum safety distance."
Another shockwave hit, and David knew he couldn�t rely on computer
estimates of his chances.
* * *
"Catherine!" Hiro screamed over the ensuing chaos. Fighting against a
tsunami of panic, he spotted his son, protecting the unconscious form of
Linna against the frenzy of the masses.
"David, son!" he gathered his daughter in his arms, as little Kyoko
hugged cryingly to his leg. "My god! What happened?!"
"Mother�s still back there," he took his little sister from his
father. Suddenly, amongst the wave of rapidly moving people, Hiro stood
out, staring at what used to be the food court.
"Are the--"
"DAD!" David placed Kyoko on his leg. "You can�t go back there!
She�s gone!"
Hiro started to move, handing Linna to his son before he could
respond. David was about start after him when Kyoko started crying.
"Get them out of here now, David!" Hiro hissed at his son. David
hesitated, and balled up his fist He only waited for the older Yatsumi
to disappear into the crowd before starting to turn away. At that
time, the realization of the anarchy that reigned here hit all of them.
"Yes, sir!" David barked at himself as he struggle choked back an
insult.
"Where is daddy going?" Kyoko asked between sobs. To disraught, and
to busy to be sentimental at this point, David refused to comment. A
vacant escape pod sensed their presence and opened up; David piled his
unconscious sister and little Ki into the cramped interior, "Like this,
Kyoko."
As soon as they were inside, the hatch shut, waiting for orders to
launch. David knew the procedure. He had done this a million times at
the Academy. Now, with his grief trying to crawl back into the front of
his mind, he was doing it for real. No one could accurately determine
the length of time before a a rescue team would receive any distress
signals and act upon them. Therefor, duration cyro-chambers folded out
like drawers. First, he slipped Linna gingerly into the special-care
unit. Attaching the necessary respiratory systems and finally the
cordozine hypoinjection devices, he slid her in, carefully gauging the
life support system to favor her.
Next came Kyoko. "Ki, Daddy and Mommy want you to take a little
nap."
Kyoko was old enough to understand. She had always been bright for
her age, and the mention of her mother and father only brought back the
tears. David hugged her strongly, and then quickly slipped her into the
second chamber. Her physiology is different, he reminded himself, not
like an older person. He had to be careful. He quickly customized her
cyro settings before manually sending in the quick-stream of ice
helium. Kyoko�s expression turned blank as her face turned lighter and
bluer with preservation.
All right, buddy, he told himself. Let�s get the hell outta here.
He slid behind the controls of the arrow-like pod. Carefully
judging for the movement, the eratic movement, of the virtually
destroyed shuttle, and the failsafes of the lock and launch mechanism,
he flipped the safety from the launch switch.
NOW! his mind shouted as the switch flipped upward. A brief flash
turned the gray-bulkhead of the inside of the pod bay door into the
chaotically debris-sparsed starfield of outer space. Carefully, he
manuevered with the turning jets, pushing far from the shuttle. Looking
back for only a second, he saw other pods, only about forty or fifty,
reach minimum safety distance.
* * *
When the Kingspin of a vessel in hyperspace "collapses," the force of
the crash translation into normal-space is as traumatic as it is
spectacular. The shuttle disappeared in a white light that seem to
nearly overtake the escape pod. David nearly fumbled his h hit the
emergency warp-fold button. Slamming down on the dashboard, he covered
his eyes and closed them with the force of a lion�s jaw. The pod had
hit the warp threshold just as the tachyon flushback from the kingspin
collapse overtook them. David�s vision seemed to glare white despite
the fearsome ferocity that kept his eyelids shut. He screamed as the
escape pod creaked with the strains of the spacial and time-based forces
placed on it. It seemed any minute now that it would...
...then it stopped. Silence.
In five minutes, David opened his eyes, and slowly turned his
cowered head to the rear. The illuminated back drop was quickly dimmed
by space�s vast emptiness, the light slowly receding, and eventually
disapated. It had been a fascinating event, one of great beauty...
...and even greater sorrow.
He slowly stood, and checked the monitors. Linna and Kyoko were in
the nominal bio-range. He manually doublechecked the systems himself,
before deciding it was his turn to climb into bed. Slowly and wearily,
he pulled out his cyro-chamber. A sob that grief had demanded of him
crept into his throat, as his desperation for professionalism demanded
he choke it down. Now wasn�t the time.
They had to survive; and if not him, then his sisters. A tear
rolled down his cheek as he programmed in the last instructions. Then,
he quickly implanted the peripheal life-support devices in his body.
Shrugging at the pain he allowed himself to feel, he lay back and
watched as the cover closed over him. He would have a good...whats
that? A hiss? Fate cheated one more Yatsumi that day, as death
claimed its own. David had neglected to set the default freeze time
again. As the helium iced over the cover of his icy cell, his eyes had
not yet closed to greet the hypersleep...
-------==========*****End Presode Two*****==========-------