Battle Cry

by Jack McKinney

  A short distance down the block, Minmei stopped in midsentence and dragged Rick over to one of the storefronts. In the window was a salmon-colored belted dress that had suddenly become the most important thing in the world to her.

  "Come on, Rick, just for a minute, okay?"

  "Minmei," he resisted, "I'm not going to spend my leave shopping." "I promise I'll only be a second."

  "It always starts out that way and, and..."

  Minmei already had her hand on the doorknob. "Just what else did you have in mind for today, Rick?"

  She disappeared into the woman's shop, leaving him standing on the sidewalk, feeling somehow guilty for even thinking about going to the park.

  By the time he entered, Minmei had the hangered dress draped over one arm and was going through the racks, pulling out belts, blouses, patterned stockings, skirts, sweaters, and lingerie. Rick checked his watch and calculated that he'd be AWOL long before she finished trying everything on. She had entered the dressing room and was throwing the curtain closed.

  "And no peeking, Rick," she called out.

  Fortunately there were no other customers in the store at the time, but the saleswoman standing silently behind Rick had found Minmei's warning just about the funniest thing she had heard all week. Her squeal of delight took Rick completely by surprise. He thought an early-warning signal had just gone off-and in the middle of squatting down for cover, he managed to lose some of the items from the top of the shopping bag. In stooping over to recover these, he tipped the bag, spilling half the contents across the floor.

  The woman was laughing like a maniac now, the door buzzer was signaling the entry of three additional shoppers, and Minmei was peeking over the top of the dressing room curtain asking what had happened. Rick, meanwhile, was down on his hands and knees crawling under tables in search of the goods-bottles of shampoo, creme rinse, body lotion, baby oil, lipsticks, and sundry makeup containers-all of which had become covered in some sort of slippery wash from a container of liquid face soap that had partially opened. Each time Rick grabbed hold of one of the items, it would jump from his hand like a wet fish. But he soon got the hang of it and had almost everything rebagged in a short time. Only one thing left to retrieve: a tube of tricolored toothpaste just out of reach, bathing in a puddle of the face soap. Rick gave it a shot, stretching out and making a grab for it. Sure

  enough, the tube propelled itself and ended up under another table.

  It was time to get serious. Rick set the bag aside and crawled off stealthily after his prey, as though the tube had taken on a will of its own and was on the verge of scurrying off, like some of Macross City's robo-dispenser units. He squinted, held the tube in his gaze, and when he was near enough, pounced.

  The tube seemed to scream in his hands and immediately worked itself into a vertical launch. But Rick had prepared himself for this; he lifted his head, eyes fixed on the tube's ascent.

  The one thing he hadn't taken into account was the height of the table. His head connected hard with the underside, the tube made its escape, and Rick collapsed back to the floor, rolling over onto his back and holding his head.

  When he opened his eyes, he was staring up at a rain of brassieres and three pairs of silken female legs. The women owners of these were backing away from the table, high heels clicking against the floor, hands tugging at the hems of their skirts as though they'd just seen a rodent on the loose.

  Rick pushed himself out and got to his feet, facing the three women from across the table. They were still backing away from the tabletop lingerie display with looks of indignation on their faces. Rick was stammering apologies to them as they exited the shop, the saleswoman was once again laughing hysterically, and Minmei was suddenly behind him, tapping him on the shoulder, soliciting his opinion of the dress she was trying on. He stood shell-shocked for a minute, laughter in one ear, Minmei's questions in the other, and left the store without a word.

  Minmei remained inside for well over an hour. She had two additional shopping bags with her when she came out. Undaunted, Rick once again tried to suggest a walk in the park, but she had already made other plans for the two of them. Her surrogate family, who ran Macross City's most popular Chinese restaurant, the White Dragon, had been asking for Rick, and this would be a perfect time to visit-he looked so "gallant and dashing" in his uniform.

  Rich could hardly refuse. Minmei's aunt and uncle were almost like family to him; in fact, he had lived with them above the restaurant before joining the Defense Forces.

  They were an odd couple-Max, short and portly, and Lena, Minmei's tall and gracious inspiration. They had a son back on Earth, Lynn-Kyle, whom Lena missed and Max preferred not to think about, for reasons Rick hadn't learned. Although there was little else that either kept from him. As Rick entered the restaurant they pretended surprise, but within minutes they had his favorite meal spread out before him. While wolfing down the stir-fried shrimp, he regaled them with the barracks stories he had been saving for Minmei. They wanted to know all about the Veritech fighters-how they handled in deep space, how they were able to switch from Fighter to Guardian or Battloid mode. And they asked about the war: Had Gloval managed to contact Earth headquarters? Did his commanders believe that the enemy would continue their attacks? Was Rick worried about his first mission? How long it would be before the SDF-1 returned to Earth?

  Rick did his best to answer them, sidestepping issues he was not permitted to discuss and at other times exaggerating his importance to the Defense Forces. It concerned him that the residents of Macross City were not being given the same reports issued to the Veritech squadrons. After all, Macross was as much a part of the ship and the war as the rest of those onboard.

  He was about to allay their fears for his safety by telling them that a combat assignment was far off, when he saw Roy Fokker enter the restaurant. The lieutenant's six-six frame looked gargantuan in the low-ceilinged room, but there was something about Roy's unruly blond hair and innocent grin that put people at ease immediately. He greeted everyone individually, made a show of kissing Minmei's hand, and took a seat next to Rick, snatching up the last of the shrimp as he did so.

  "Figured I'd find you here," Roy said with his mouth full. "Gotta get you back to the base on the double, Little Brother."

  "Why, what's up?" Rick asked.

  "We're on alert."

  Rick was suddenly concerned. "Yeah, but what's that have to do with me?"

  Roy licked his fingers. "Guess who's been assigned to my squadron?" Rick was speechless.

  Aunt Lena and Uncle Max stood together, worried looks behind the faint smiles. Minmei, however, was ecstatic.

  "Oh, Rick, thats wonderful!"

  Like he'd just been awarded a prize.

  Roy stood up and smiled. "Up and at 'em, partner." Rick tried valiantly to return a smile that wasn't there. The war had caught up with him again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  From the start it was inevitable that a cult should develop around the Veritech fighters. Like the World War I aces, jet fighter jocks, astronauts, and computer linguists before them, the men who were chosen to interact with the first by-product of Robotechnology considered themselves to be at the cutting edge of human progress. And in a sense they were. For who before them had interfaced with machines on such an intimate level? It was only fitting that they should form their own club and speak their own language-call themselves "mechamorphs." They were continually borrowing and applying mystic phrases from their Zen masters-those actually responsible for teaching the pilots the essentials of meditative technique...You'd be walking around Macross in those days and hear phrases like "dropping trou" and "standing upright" being tossed about-referring to reconfiguration to Guardian mode and battloid mode, respectively. Pilots would talk to you about your "thinking caps," the sensor-studded helmets worn, or about the thrill of "haloing" (fixing an enemy on target in the mind's eye) or "alpha-bets" (gambling with yourself that you were deep enough in trance for the mecha to unders
tand you) or "facing mecha" (going into battle) or "azending...

  Zachary Fox, Jr., VT: the Men and the Mecha

  Gloval met frequently with Dr. Lang during the development phase of what was being called the pinpoint barrier system. The lambent energy that once filled the spacefold generators' chamber had been harnessed and redirected. Such was the nature of this antielectron energy, however, that a photon shield for the entire fortress would have further destabilized an already weakened gravity control system. The best that Lang and his Robotechnicians had been able to come up with was a cluster of movable barriers capable of deflecting incoming bolts. An area aft of the ship's bridge had been retrofitted with three manually operated universal gyros, each tied to one of the cluster's photon discs.

  With the barrier system now operational, Captain Gloval was confident that his "Blitzkrieg" attack plan would prove viable. The strategy was simple enough: When the SDF-1 was in close proximity to Saturn's rings, electronic countermeasures would be activated to jam the enemy's radar scanners. The fortress would hide within the rings to take full advantage of their intrinsic radio "noise," while at the same time, squadrons of Veritech fighters would be deployed in a simulated attack mission to act as decoys. When the enemy moved in to engage the VTs, the SDF-1's main gun would take them out. Orbital dynamics would make the timing critical: If the fortress reentered orbit too early, it would be catapulted back toward the outer planets; too late, and the launch window to Mars and the inner planets would be closed.

  The VT fighter pilots would receive most of this information at the scheduled briefing, and it was to this briefing that Rick and Roy were headed after they left the restaurant.

  Roy had been doing his best to cheer up the newly graduated cadet. Rick was one of five cadets chosen; it was really an honor, an endorsement of his flying skills. He would be able to move out of the dormitory barracks into his own room. There would be more free time, special privileges.

  They were walking along the tall chain-link fence that surrounded the barracks compound now. Fifty-foot-tall Battloid sentries patrolled the perimeter, their gatlings shouldered like proper soldiers. Defense Force personnel were moving quickly in response to new orders which had been delivered to each unit.

  But Rick's morale was low; his hands were in his pockets, and his shoulders drooped. Roy, however, succeeded in bringing him around with a sharp, "Ten-shun!"

  Rick responded expertly to his conditioning: His head came up, he squared his shoulders, brought his back straight, hand at his forehead. His eyes searched for a superior's uniform, but the only people in his field of vision were four young women in civilian dress. The oldest among them, not more than twenty-three or twenty-four herself, was the one who returned his salute. She had thick brown hair coiled at her shoulders, small,

  attractive features, and an athletic body even her conservative outfit couldn't conceal. There was an air of cool command about her.

  The other three were suddenly laughing and pointing at him; the tall, dark-haired one-Kim, Rick understood-was whispering something to the one with glasses-Vanessa. Rick was resisting an urge to check his fly buttons, when the short blonde among them yelled, "Mr. Lingerie!"

  He decided to risk a full look and recognized three of the women from this morning's incident in the dress shop. One of them was saying, "Hold your skirts down, ladies," and Roy was elbowing him in the ribs.

  "What gives, Little Brother?"

  "Don't ask," Rick said out of the corner of his mouth.

  The oldest had stepped forward; she gave Rick a look and turned to

  Roy.

  "Commander Fokker, don't tell me this is the brilliant new pilot you

  were raving about?"

  "One and the same. Corporal Rick Hunter, this is the Flight Officer Lisa Hayes. You'll be hearing a lot from her from now on."

  Rick saluted again. The women were still needling him with comments. "Rick Hunter..." Lisa Hayes was repeating. "Why does that name sound

  familiar? Have we met-uh, before this morning, I mean?" "No, sir, I don't think so, sir."

  Lisa tapped her lower lip with her forefinger. She knew that name from somewhere...and all at once she had it: Hunter was the civilian pilot who had shown up at Macross on Launching Day. The same one who had made unauthorized use of a Veritech, the same one who had rescued that Chinese girl, the same one who had called her-

  "You're that loudmouthed pilot, aren't you?"

  Rick stared at her. Yes, unbelievable as it was, she was the one he had seen on the Veritech commo screen months ago.

  "Then you must be-"

  "Go ahead, Corporal Hunter, say it: I must be..." "Y-you must be...my superior officer, sir!"

  Lisa smirked and nodded her head knowingly. She motioned to her group, and they started off down the sidewalk. But Lisa turned to Rick as she passed him and added, "By the way, I don't know what your particular problem is, but it's hardly appropriate behavior for a VT pilot to be hanging around lingerie shops looking for a cheap thrill."

  Rick groaned. Roy scratched his head. The blonde said: "Creep."

  Later, at the briefing, Rick was still replaying the incident; but in light of what was being said, embarrassment placed last on his list of concerns. A decoy mission-the VTs were actually going to pretend to launch a counteroffensive against the aliens! Judging by the murmurs in the crowd, Rick was not the only pilot to be floored by this directive. But like it or not, they had their orders.

  "I want you to be thinking of one thing and one thing only," the general was saying. "Robotech! And I want you to know that we're all counting on you."

  If the general had let it go at that, Rick would have been all right-afraid but not desperate. The general, however, had then added: "If there's anyone you want to see, you'd better do it tonight."

  Rick was in a panic. What did he mean by that-that they were being sent out on some kind of suicide mission? And do what tonight-say good-bye, say wish me well, say please remember me always?

  He stood on line to use the phone and managed to reach Minmei's aunt Lena. Minmei was at ballet school, but yes, Lena would relay Rick's message: Macross Central Park, their bench at nine P.m.

  Rick rode back into the city with a few of the other pilots. He kicked around the market area for a while and was in the park by eight o'clock keeping their bench warm. Starlight poured in from the huge bay in the hull; lovers held one another; life went on as though filled with limitless tomorrows. But Rick couldn't see past the mission, and he was frightened.

  By ten o'clock she still hadn't showed; the park was quiet, and he was about to move on. But just then she came running in, face flushed and out of breath.

  "Rick, I'm sorry I'm so late."

  He smiled at her. "At least you made it."

  She pushed her bangs back. Her forehead was beaded with sweat. "What's the big emergency, anyway?"

  "They're sending us out on a mission tomorrow."

  He didn't need to add any dramatic accents to it; the words just fell out that way. But her reaction was unexpected. She was practically clapping for him.

  "Oh, Rick, that's great! Really, I'm so happy for you!"

  And for a moment her enthusiasm almost won him over. Hey, Rick told himself, maybe this is how I'm supposed to feel, like I'm lucky or something. The park fountain was even gushing in his honor! It didn't last, though, despite her continued exclamations.

  "Your first mission! I can't believe it! I'm so proud of you!"

  Obviously this was what supporting the war effort was all about, he decided. And she was very good at it.

  Then Minmei was suddenly on her toes, twirling around in front of him. "Do you like it? Don't you just love it?" she kept asking. He was puzzled but caught on fast. The dress! The salmon-colored dress she'd picked up that afternoon.

  "You look beautiful, Minmei."

  She moved in close and made him repeat it. "Do you mean it, Rick? Am I really beautiful?"

  An idea came to him and he si
gnaled to a robo-camera that was making rounds through the park. The stupid thing kept moving in circles, trying to home in on Rick's call, and he finally had to throw a stone at it to get its attention. The cam approached them, asking for money.

  "We'll have a picture taken. You'll see how beautiful you are."

  Minmei protested some, and the cam uttered some stock phrases to get them in the proper mood, but eventually they had the print and Minmei was pleased. A smile and a look of concern; Minmei clinging to his arm; the

  fountain behind them.

  Afterward, she talked dance for half an hour; she read him the lyrics of a song she'd composed. Then she had to be going.

  "Uncle Max gets mad when I stay out too late. But I'll see you when you get back, Rick. Have a good mission, and remember, I'm very proud of you."

  And with that she was gone, leaving him wondering about tomorrow all over again.

  He power-walked and jogged for an hour hoping he would exhaust himself and fall into a deep sleep back in the barracks. But sleep didn't seem to be on tonight's agenda; in fact, he couldn't even keep his eyes closed. It was too hot in his bunk, then too cold, there were too many noises in the room, the pillow just wasn't right...Finally he sat up and switched on the reading light. He took the park photo and brought it close to his face. Perhaps he could reach her by concentrating on her image; spoken words weren't doing much good.

  Minmei was proud of him; earlier that day she'd been upset with him for carrying her shopping bag because the package hid too much of the uniform. Besides, it was wrong for a Veritech fighter pilot to involve himself in such mundane activities. Well, that much was encouraging to Rick because she had really been his motivation for joining up. During the weeks that followed their shared ordeal in that remote part of the ship, he realized that Minmei could never accept an ordinary man as her lover; he would have to be someone who participated in life to the fullest. Someone romantic, adventurous, full of grand dreams and positive hopes for the future-an all-day-long hero who would never fear, never say die. A special man, a dearest man, someone to share his life with you alone, as Minmei had herself written it...She was like someone who had gone from childhood to maturity without any of the intervening periods of longing or confusion. And even though Rick had saved her life on two occasions and spent two long lost weeks with her, he had yet to prove himself in her eyes. Without joining up there would have been no way for him to display the heroics she craved, no way to individualize himself, no way to accept himself as her