Re-entry
A Robotech Fanfic by Exar

***

My name is Roy Harris, and I am dying.

I should start at the beginning. I was born in space, in a
geosynchronous orbit on the dark side of the moon.

I was born on the SDF-3.

I'm told my birth was hailed as a sign of healing, celebrated
as a milestone in humanity's recovery from the destruction
wrought by the Zentradi armada. I'm told that Admiral Hunter
himself named me after a fallen hero of the war. All I know
is my first memory is of a catastrophic gravity plating failure
that turned a three-year-old's life into a scene from a nightmare.

My mother was laying on the bed in our quarters when it
happened. She was reading from some book, I think it was
Dr. Seuss. I was in my playpen, doing whatever it is that
toddlers do. I don't remember the details before the accident,
but once it happened, the memories are crystal clear. I
remember hearing a boom in the distance, and feeling the
floor shake violently. I remember crying from the sudden
noise, then laughing happily and clapping my hands as I
began to float upwards in the sudden zero-g. I remember
seeing my mother's face as she was crushed under seventeen
gees of pressure. Her bones snapped under their own weight,
and her lungs collapsed. She never made a sound, she probably
couldn't. But her eyes never left mine until her head was
pressed through her mattress. Within a few minutes, the gravity
was rebalanced. But the damage was done. Thirteen people died
that day. Some were unlucky enough to be straddling the gravity
plates when the accident happened. Sgt. Franklin, my training
officer, was one of those. He had full prosthetic legs, and his
right arm from the elbow down was mechanical, as well.

I look up at the canopy over my head. The thick plastic has
spiderweb cracks running across it, but it should hold for a
while longer. It's a multilayered polymer sandwich of materials,
all strong by themselves, and bulletproof together. Not that
that will help in another 369 miles.

Where was I? Oh yes, the SDF-3 gravity accident. We left earth
shortly after that. Through simple bad luck and timing, I never
managed to visit the planet before then. So it was that I got
my first and only view of the blue-green jewel of space. I was
sitting on my father's shoulders as the SDF-3 moved away from
the moon's gravity well so she could spacefold.

Of course, that's not completely true. I could see Earth right
now, if circumstances were slightly different. And I saw it
briefly on the flight in, I just had other things to worry about
at the time.

Like the Invid.

When I was six, we made contact with a group of strange aliens
that called themselves 'The Sentinels'. There were bear people,
space amazons with a robotic horse, and others stranger than that.
They had a bone to pick with the Invid we found there, on the
far side of the galaxy. So we allied with them. They taught us
a lot of useful things. We gained a lot of new alien technology
from them.

My specialty, outside of flying the Alpha type transformable
fighter, is demolitions. Everyone in my squadron has an 'outside
the cockpit' skill set that makes us usable as a commando team.
In order to stretch limited manpower to its maximum, the REF has
formed a lot of dual-purpose squadrons. The Zentradi Corp of
Engineers is awesome to watch in action. Crews of destroids and
full-sized Zentradi working together to erect massive earthworks,
dam mighty rivers and build fortifications in a matter of hours.
On the other hand, they are also tremendously adept at removing
earthworks and dams. And in combat, they are as effective as,
well, a squad of destroids and Zentradi in Mk. II Officer's Pods.
Which is to say, highly effective.

As the squad's demo guy, I have a underbarrel detpack launcher
on my GU-34 gunpod. The detonator is attuned to my cockpit controls,
or to my handheld unit, for maximum versatility. It's very handy
to be able to place charges at range, while in a mecha, and then
be able to detonate them hours later while on foot and ready to
capitalize on the destruction they cause.

Of course, it doesn't always work out perfectly. 324 miles to go.
I check my distress beacon again, to see if might have magically
started working. It hasn't. It might have to do with the Invid
claw jabbed through the communications sphere on the underside of
my fuselage. I look up again. If it weren't for the dead Invid
mecha there, I would have a spectacular view of my home world as
I wait to die. But instead all I can see is a squat, bug-like metal
shell with a jagged hole where its 'head' used to be. I try my
vernier jets again, but to no avail. The huge lobster claw has me
tight, and even in death, refuses to let me go. The bottom part of
the claw crushed my IFF communications package, the top part is the
source of the spiderweb I see above me. It crushed the forward part
of the fuselage and the front edge of the canopy. If it did let go,
I would probably lose atmosphere in a matter of minutes.

I think I would prefer that to the death that is coming. 307 miles.

When I was 17 we dealt a telling blow to the Invid Regent with the
help of the Sentinels and some native Zentradi that Breetai talked
into joining us. They had lowered the minimum joining age for the
military to 15 by that point, so low were our numbers. I had been
a proud member of the REF for two years. I was a Lieutenant, with
men under my command and lives hanging on my decisions. The pressure
didn't bother me much. I had good examples of leaders all around me,
and simply emulated them to the best of my ability. I must have done
something right, for today it's the stripes of Captain that will
burn up on my uniform.

Did I forget to mention that part? Could have sworn I did. I'm
dying, a mile at a time. Because 285 miles from here, I'm going
to hit the atmosphere of Earth, and this hollow Invid mecha and
I are going to burn up like a shooting star.

When I was 19, a mere six months ago, we got word that a separate
part of the Invid fleet had slipped past us, and were on Earth.
And not only were they there, but they had taken over. Naturally,
that didn't sit well with either of the Admirals Hunter. So Commander
 Wolff was dispatched to mount a recon and if possible, establish a
beachhead.

We never heard back from him or any of his men.

I plug the cheap earphone into my left ear and press the memory
crystal into the audio player I smugged in my flight suit. An
incredibly tinny and low-fi version of Lynn Minmei's 'My Boyfriend
is a Pilot' starts playing. It keeps me occupied for about 100
miles. I try the beacon again. I try transforming my veritech.
Nothing. I try to rig up my suit radio to the batteries in my music
player before I remember I'm not McGuyver and give up. I key the
mic of my suit radio, well aware that it only has a two miles range,
totally useless in space.

"Is anyone out there? I could really use a rescue about now.

"This is Captain Roy Harris of the Robotech Expeditionary Force. My
position is 57 degrees north of Lagrange point 3 in a degrading
orbit. I am unable to control my descent and will enter the atmosphere
very soon."

It makes me feel better for a few seconds. I play the song again,
after I find the battery I dropped. 98 miles to go.

I felt so thrilled to be here. Coming home triumphantly, saving the
world from alien invaders. I never thought it would end like this.
My squad and I tore through the first several waves of Invid like
they weren't even there. My wingman separated his Beta from my Alpha
because it simply didn't look like we needed the concentrated firepower.
We could be more effective apart. Of course, that was before my gunpod
jammed. When I was suddenly faced with an Invid enemy faster and more
powerful than before, and deprived of my primary weapon, I was forced
to improvise. I launched a detpack at its central 'eye', since I knew
from experience that it was the weakest point on the mecha's armor. I
hit my afterburner and tried to boost clear before triggering it, but
in its blind thrashing, the Invid managed to get a claw around my
fuselage. I blew the Detpack anyway. As soon as it started crushing
my canopy, I knew I had no choice.

I play the song one more time. I really like that song. Just about
every pilot does. It makes us feel like there's someone waiting for
us to come back, even if no one really is. Our generation on the ship
is about 65% male, so there are a lot of bachelors. Attrition hasn't
helped either. What available women there are don't want to have a
relationship with someone who could be blown out of space any day, any
time.

I met Minmei once. She came to my middle school class and sang for us.
She did regular shows that were broadcast over the ship's internal TV
network, but except for one show on the hangar deck, she didn't do
live shows much anymore. As she grew older, there was a sadness about
her that was profound. I heard a rumor that she dated Admiral Hunter
before he married, and that she stayed single because she never stopped
loving him. I don't know if that's true, but I feel for her if it is.

24 miles to go. God I'm scared. I don't want to die.

I try my suit radio one more time. I don't hear an answer. I watch in
wonder as perfect spheres of salt water lift free of my cheeks and
float in front of me. Crying in freefall. That's a new experience. Pity
I won't be able to tell anyone about it. They look pretty cool. 6 miles.
I start the song again and try to think happy thoughts.

It's starting to warm up in my cockpit. I can see wisps of gas fly past
the canopy. I'm truly grateful for the toilet bag built into my flight
suit, because I wet myself at this point. My ship begins to shake
violently as the first turbulence of reentry hits.

Suddenly, the claw tears free with a squeal of protesting metal. My vision
is filled with the blur-green orb that I have never set foot on, yet call
home. I start to cry again, but desperate hope fills my heart. I pull the
lever marked with a large 'S' and hear the familiar sound of robotechnology.
My plane reconfigures into a forty foot tall humanoid robot. Most importantly,
a blast shield slides into place over my much-abused canopy. Seizing the
controls, I command my vehicle's robotic arms to clutch at the Invid mecha.
I hold it below me and curl my veritech into a fetal position. The two of
us shake violently, and I watch the altimeter with a horrific combination
of glee and dread. My visual sensors short out, but before they do, I
catch a vision of the Invid ship burning with the fury of a newborn sun.
But burning below me, and shielding me from the worst of reentry's peril.

At some point, I black out. My veritech continues its death grip on the
Invid craft, and so it is hours later that I come around, thirty feet
under water, multiple systems offline and general controls dull and slow
to respond, but oh so alive, and still holding on to the scorched
remains of an Invid invader.

I'm alive. I'm home. They better watch out.

My name is Roy Harris, and I'm not dead yet.

-fin.

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