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Somewhere in the
outer fringe of Sol’s Asteroid Belt
23:37
It was dark. Very, very dark. Slowly the hiss of his air recirculator began to impinge upon Wilfi's consciousness, followed by the sounds of alarms in his ears and pain all through his body. Suddenly, his eyes flew open, one of them covered by a shock of dark purple hair. Wilfi could taste the blood in his mouth from an internal injury. He was in bad shape, and he knew it. It wasn't in him to give up though. He painfully turned his head sideways to move the hair out of his eyes so he could see how bad the damage was. With the touch of a finger he silenced the alarms that had been blaring in his ears for who knows how long.
As he became fully conscious, Wilfi's training took over and he began to assess his situation.
"Where the hell am I?" he muttered to himself.
Lightening the visor of his helmet, which had darkened automatically when the Horizont shuttle had exploded, he was greeted by a slow kaleidascope of stars and wreckage. He couldn't see any REF or Invid ships, but that didn't mean a whole lot. His radar was out, a chunk of Invid Trooper having taken out the radome, and his thrusters were out of commission for who knows what reason. He checked the chrono...23:37 hours.
"How long have I been out here?" Wilfi couldn't remember what time he dove out of the airlock in the spare VR-41 he'd found in the Horizont. By the look of his power systems, it must have been at least eight to ten hours ago.
"Well, I'd better signal for rescue. Hopefully the Invid are still as dumb as I've been told, and won't intercept my transmission.
"This is 2nd Lieutenant Wilfi Te to any REF or allied ships. Do you copy?"
"I repeat, this is 2nd Lt. Wilfi Te to any REF or allied ships. Do you copy?"
Only static could be heard over the airwaves. He couldn't believe there was no one else out there. Sure, the Robotech Factory Satellite was pretty much toast, but someone else had to have gotten out, shouldn't they have...?
His thrusters were out, so he'd have to find some other way to survey the area. He was drifting through space, in the general direction of Wolf 359, and if he didn't find some way to affect a rescue, he was going to visit it in about thirty-thousand years or so. While the thought of visiting foreign locales was nice, doing it as a corpse just didn't seem like his idea of a good time!
A large chunk of debris from the station was drifting toward him on an oblique collision course...if he could hit it just right...that is, assuming he didn't crack his suit, he could turn around and maybe head back toward the battle's location. It would be more dangerous because of the debris he could run into on the way back, but not much more. Besides, his chances of rescue were much better there than on the way to Wolf 359.
Wilfi drew his energy cannon and prepared for impact. At the last minute, he kicked out to spin his body and reached out with the cannon in both hands.
"I hope I won't be needing this, because I think it might not work afterwards." he said.
The oblong chunk of deuterium-enhanced titanium collided with the proffered weapon. As the impact dented the barrel and destroyed the firing mechanism, Wilfi could feel the shock of it all the way to his shoulders, despite the suit taking up much of the force.
His ploy had worked! The force of the impact pushed him back toward the scene of the battle. Wilfi had struck the debris at an angle, so his body was now rolling toward the scene.
With the deft, zero-G movements of someone who had spent their whole life in space, Wilfi stopped his roll by dragging the barrel of his gun against the debris as it went off on its own course through space. Now his chances of survival looked just a little less bleak. Sure, there still might not be anyone to pick him up, but at least he'd be somewhere he could be found if there was.
Zeroing in with his helmet's optics, Wilfi didn't see any live vessels ahead, only a slowly drifting field of broken ships and shattered lives. He could see the denser areas, where the newly manufactured fleet of ships had been parked, with only the smallest of skeleton crews. They were now only wreckage. Turning his head, he could see the bright reflection of the far-off sun on the dead hulk that used to be the Robotech Factory Satellite-his home. Increased magnification revealed what must be bodies floating around a breach in one of the closer ships.
All his life, Wilfi had struggled with his temper. Now, he didn't struggle. The human half of his heart ached for his family, his friends, gone forever because of the insatiable thirst of the Invid for the flower, and for revenge on the Masters. The Zentraedi half made his blood boil with seething, ugly fury towards the brainless insects that had done this.
They had invaded his home, enslaved whole cities, destroyed whole nations, for no other reason than they were there! It wasn’t just soldiers that felt their wrath, but children and families. His family…
He had seen action in a hundred places. Rebel Zentreadi, Robotech Masters, E.B.S.I.S. and other rogue people had graced his gunsights as he sought to defend what he thought was right from anyone who might threaten it. Always before, they had just been enemies, just someone who had threatened the security of his planet and the safety and well-being of those he respected and loved. Always before, when the dust settled, he could walk away, knowing he’d done a good job, but never really feeling anything evil toward those he’d had to beat. Now, for the first time in his life, Wilfi could not think of the enemy as merely something that must be stopped. The Invid had suddenly become something uglier, more malignant, more evil, than anything he’d ever faced.
He knew now
what rage truly felt like, and what a vendetta was; It wasn't about honors or
medals, missions or orders anymore, all he cared about was the end of the
Invid.
“Captain Rhodes, we’re picking up a faint distress call from farther out in the system.”
“Put it on the main screen, Lt. Wilkes.”
Fuzz filled the small hushed bridge of the REFS Luan. An image of an older Zentreadi officer filled the screen, half garbled by lines of radio interference. He was tall, with silver hair, unique for one of the former giants. Blood stained his forehead from a gash just above his hairline and his rasping voice could hardly be heard over the static.
“This is Admiral Boen, of the Robotech F-[tchshh] “ .
“-ite. We are under attack, I repeat, we are under atta-[tchshh]”
“Invid forces have breached all but our final lines of def-“ There was a roar of decompression somewhere in the background before a section of corridor closed behind him.
“They have just boarded the
station. Our forces cannot withstand
their attack. I have ordered the small
number of survivors to abandon the st-[tchshh] any way possible. I am setting the station’s
self-destruc-[tchshh] now. For
anyone who receives- [tchshh] message, please pick up [tchshh]
-rvivors; Be aware that there [tchshh] mi- [tchshh] -ore Invid than
we predicted, and they fight savagely, without quarter. You're our [tchshh] -nly hope. Good luck, and Give ‘Em Hell!
Boen
[tchshh...]”
With that baleful announcement, the screen went dark.
“That’s all we received, sir.”
“Ensign Roberts, set our course for the last known position of the Factory Satellite. ETA?”
“16 hours in silent mode, sir.”
“Understood.”
Rhodes was a career officer. He’d served for the North American forces during the first global civil war; He was aboard the SDF-1 from the very first, and his was one of the first commands that came out of the R.F.S. Remembering what the station looked like when his own ship, the Luan, had left her steely womb, he wondered what she looked like now.
“Operations…”
“Ops here, captain,” said a voice over the com.
“Prepare rescue and salvage teams for hostile insertion in fourteen hours. That will be all.”
“Yes Sir, Ops out.”
Down in the fighter bays, there was a calm flurry of activity. Crews began coming in from various parts of the ship, while flight and maintanance people readied fighters and salvage shuttles for the work ahead. Everyone had lost someone in the last two wars. Many now wondered how many more they would lose.
01:30
With his radar out, Wilfi could only rely on his sight for warning if there were any more Invid around. With this in mind, he had been a bit nervous about activating his emergency beacon. After some time and more calls on the radio, he concluded there was no one near. He figured it was his duty to turn it on, to somehow warn the REF that the RFS was gone; the Invid had succeeded where the Masters had not. After activating the beacon, he began looking for some ship or wreckage he could hide in.
"There has got to be something, something defensible...ahh Hah! That will do the trick." Wilfi had spotted what looked to be the engine compartment of some ship floating nearby. He figured he could slip in there and be invisible to hostile eyes. In the meantime, rescue ships could follow his beacon.
Fortunately, the debris was directly on his path. He was, however, moving a little faster than he thought. Wilfi struck a bulkhead with what would have been a loud 'thunk,' if there'd still been atmosphere there. Something sticking out from the wall stabbed into Wilfi's side.
"Ouch!!" There was now a sharp pain in his side. For just a moment, Wilfi started to panic, but the plasseem had held in his armor, so his atmospheric integrity was good. It felt like he'd broken a rib, though.
Reaching out, he grabbed at a hatch as he rebounded off of a wall. As he got a good hold, his body swung around and hit another wall. This time, it was his arm that got hurt. Just before he struck the edge of the hatch, where it met the bulkhead, his arm got swung around and twisted, so when he hit the bulkhead, a sickening snapping sound was transmitted through the armor, accompanied with excruciating pain.
"Ahh! S*#!%! D%@! Invid!!," he yelled.
Now, his left arm would be useless. Struggling, Wilfi got himself wedged against the bulkhead and tried to control the pain of his broken arm and rib. He could feel dampness seeping out of his arm. His bone must have punctured the skin. Checking his onboard supply of water, Wilfi took a long swig. He noted a computer terminal within reach, mounted in the bulkhead. Idly, he reached out and tried to turn it on. To his surprise, the panel lit up. Wilfi wondered if he could use the dead ships communications equipment from here. After a short inspection, however, he realized this was just an engine control unit, and the engines weren't actually here. Disappointed, Wilfi turned the unit off and settled in to await rescue.
01:33
Something resembling a space-born crab was moving among the wreckage, inspecting here or there. It had been moving randomly, trying to detect signs of protoculture. Suddenly, its movements stopped being random and it sped off towards some debris on the far side of the scene of battle.
02:09
The flow of blood from Wilfi's arm was only getting worse. He knew he'd pass out soon if no one came. He was quickly drinking his water supply, trying to replace fluids lost to blood and sweat. He started looking around for some cable or line he could tie himself to the wreckage with. He only happened to be looking in the right direction when the Invid scout flew into the area. It appeared to be scanning the wreckage he was in!
"He must have detected me somehow! But how--the console I activated!" That console must have activated some protoculture power source strong enough to get the Invid's attention.
Knowing he didn't have much time, Wilfi checked his missiles: one left.
"Without radar, this is going to be tricky." He set the missile to auto target and steadied himself to fire. The Invid was slowly circling the wreckage, so when he moved into Wilfi's sights, Wilfi fired.
Some movement must have alerted the Invid, because when Wilfi fired, the Invid spun around towards him. The missile impacted the scout, but only an arm and part of the body was affected! Seeing that Wilfi was just in a cyclone, the Invid moved in to use its deadly pincer on him. Wilfi activated his magnetic boots and prepared to jump out of the way. At the same time, Wilfi drew his Gallant H-90 energy pistol.
Wlfi was standing in a corridor that had been ripped in half during the fight. It was open on one side and mostly whole on the other. As the creature swung its claw at him, Wilfi threw himself to the right! The jar of landing made him cry out in pain. He began to empty his Gallant upon the Invid. The Invid landed and slowly approached Wilfi. While firing, Wilfi tried to push himself back along the corridor, held down only by his magnetic boots. The Invid scout seemed to be enjoying its little game of cat and mouse. It started moving faster. Wilfi was faced with a decision: where he was now, he couldn't leverage himself up, so he either had to use his right arm to get up or keep shooting…
“Die, Invid!” he yelled and kept shooting.
Closer and closer the Invid came. Fifteen feet, twelve feet, eight feet, five...the pincer rose to crush Wilfi, and at the same time, one of his shots must have hit something vital. Just as the pincer started to descend, the scout was ripped apart in a horrendous explosion. The force of the blast threw Wilfi off of the deck and shot him into space. Debris struck him in several places and one piece actually carved a gouge out of his face- plate! Wilfi flew into another piece of the ship, this time landing on his right side. Searing pain shot up his body as he desperately scrabbled for a grip on something while sliding down the hull. Finally, he caught a projecting weapon housing and stopped. His breath came in shallow gasps now.
"Great," he gasped.
"Just what I need--MORE broken ribs!!"
Wilfi's vision started getting hazy as he noticed a dull ache at the back of his skull.
"Must have..bumped my head-"
He passed out.
05:47
"Sir, approching the coordinates now," said the young lieutenant.
"Dear God..." The captain had seen his share of carnage, had even been part of the assault on Dolza's fortress. This reminded him of that fateful day. There were countless ships in various states of destruction. Wreckage filled the forward view.
"Lt. Wilkes, send our teams out and scan for any activity. I want to know if there are any of the buggers left."
"Yes Sir."
Out in the debris field, drifting, supposedly dead Invid mecha began powering up and moving toward this new source of protoculture. They only thought one thing: destroy.
“Captain, we’re detecting multiple energy signatures, they just showed up out of nowhere!” called out the officer at the threat board.
“Scramble all fighters.” The captain was calm. He’d fought before, and won before. There wasn’t any reason for that to change.
The next two hours were busy for the fighter crews and the people who supported them. The ship sustained some damage, but eventually all fifty or so Invid were destroyed.
The weary pilots climbed out of their cockpits, but didn’t go far, knowing they might be called on to go out there again.
07:44
After hours of unconsciousness, Wilfi’s awareness returned to him. He had come loose from his grip sometime past and was drifting closer to the more dense parts of the debris field. It wasn’t surprising that his beacon had been damaged by debris, rendering it inoperable.
He’d been in and out of consciousness several times already, feverish. He was hallucinating about fighting and the Invid coming after him and his family. Faintly, the distant sight of an explosion filtered through his hazy mind. He figured it was another hallucination, but in this one, the good guys were winning! When it registered what that meant, he got on the radio.
“2nd Lt. Wilfi Te to any REF ships…do you read me, I repeat, do you read me?”
Tense with hope, he wanted to shout when the reply came.
“Wilfi, this is the REF ship, Luan. We read you loud and clear. What’s your position, over?”
Instead of shouting, however, Wilfi passed out again.
07:44
“No response?” asked the captain.
“No sir. He sounded pretty weak. Maybe I can triangulate the signal with its own echoes. It will at least get us the right direction.”
That was Ensign Rice, at the comm. The captain knew that if anyone could find this fortunate soldier, she could.
This was the first signal they’d gotten from any survivors, so the bridge crew anxiously awaited the computer tech’s answer. They all wondered the same thing: this can’t be the only survivor, can it?
An agonizing two minutes later, Rice spoke up.
“He’s got to be somewhere in Theta or Gamma-z quadrant, captain.”
“Good, send out the search crews. We’ve got to get this man, especially if he’s the only survivor.”
Several hours later, search and rescue brought in a very beat up cyclone battleoid. It was down to only a quarter of it’s reserve batteries. Impacts of debris were obvious everywhere. There was a deep gouge in the faceplate, almost deep enough to go through. The thrusters were offline, the main computer was operating in emergency mode. The sensor module was gone, tore off in some collision, and there were dents and scratches everywhere. No one could see how a person could survive what this suit had been through. The AC must have been damaged, because the internal temperature was 92 degrees. When medical personnel extricated Wilfi’s inert body, they were shocked to find a weak pulse. Quickly, they took him to sickbay and hooked him up to an array of machines while they cleaned him up and prepared for surgery. Wilfi’s left arm and side was covered in blood, accounting for his weakness. X-rays revealed three broken ribs on the right and one on the left; his left arm was in the worst condition. It was broken in two places and poked out of his skin. It took some time to clean all the congealed blood. Wilfi was feverish and dehydrated.
Later
He spent the next three days in ICU, then another five and a half months in recovery. By now, word had come that two ships had escaped from the station before it was destroyed, but his parents and siblings were not found aboard. He fell into a depression for some time, but a new friendship with Ensign Rice helped him out of it.
One day, a special communiqué came from headquarters to the Luan, where Wilfi had since been stationed. He was called into the Captain’s Quarters after his shift was up. He wondered what was going on. He hadn’t exactly been an angel…
When the door opened, he was faced with the smiling faces of Capt. Rhodes and the entire bridge crew, as well as his squadron commander and some of his team.
The Captain approached him.
“2nd Lt. Wlfi Te…on behalf of the Robotech Expeditionary Force commanders and this crew, you are hereby presented with this medal for bravery above and beyond the call of duty for your actions at the battle of the Robotech Factory. Additionally, you are hereby promoted to 1st Lieutenant, effective immediately. Congratulations, Son.”
Wilfi was genuinely surprised! Struck with the irony of it, he decided to dedicate it to his family and friends. They had not made it through, but he had. He was going to make sure the Invid paid dearly for what they had done to humanity, and especially those he loved. Right then and there, as he was sworn into his new rank, in his heart he swore vengeance!
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