Robotech Freedom Fighters
							by Naia Zifu

    		     Chapter Five: Vacation's Over

	It was still dark as our convoy set out from Paranka, but we
knew we still had to be on the lookout for Invid patrols, particularly
since we'd just taken on the two Regults.  They weren't at all quiet as
they bounded along gracelessly, Yasuharu and Raymond still new to the
controls.  I'd heard that Invid were particularly sensitive to Proto-
culture emanations from T'sentrati mecha.  If we hadn't so needed the
firepower I'd as soon have not accepted the gift of the ostriches.
	"Is something troubling you, Agyei?" asked my wife, Nyankomago.
"You seem distant."
	"I'm fine, really," I assured her.  "I was just thinking about
what Quelt'san and Naia said, how we have no chance against the Invid.
I couldn't help wondering if it isn't wrong to be putting these young
lives at risk for a mission already doomed to failure."
	"If you were mortal, would you have any problem risking your
life for the freedom of your planet?" she asked.
	"No, of course not!"
	"Well, these people made the same decision," she said.  "We
didn't force them to come along.  They're all mortal, but they're
willing to risk their lives for freedom, and all you can do is sit
there and feel sorry for yourself?"
	"And what about Taka?  Who asked her if she wanted to come?
Nyankomago, this is no place for a two-week-old infant."
	"No place for a pregnant woman about to burst, either, but you
had little problem with it then."
	I knew I was beaten.  Time to climb off the self-pity wagon and
get back to the real world.
	"I know what'll cheer you up; music!" Nyankomago exclaimed,
inserting a CD into the player and turning the volume up far too loud.
	I suppressed a moan.  It was heavy metal music-- in T'sentrati,
no less!
	"What _is_ this?" I asked, shouting to be heard over the
screech of guitars and the strange sound of the warriors' language set
to music.
	"It's 'Template #143' by Hot Soy," she replied.  "Do you like
it?"
	"Lovely," I muttered, the word dripping with sarcasm.
	The radio crackled to life, and Nyankomago turned down the
volume on the CD.
	"Pratt here," Raymond's voice said as calmly as if it were a
social call, "got a bunch of lobsters coming in at high noon and they
aren't the boiled variety, sir.  What say we have ourselves an early
breakfast?"
	"Do you think you can actually fight in that ostrich, Pratt?"
I wondered.
	"Watch me!"
	I gave my okay, but only because there were so many Invid and
only one Alpha.
	The Regults bounded forward as the Alpha configured to jet and
shot out ahead of them, rockets blazing, two of them finding their
mark.
	The Regults were almost too clumsy as the beginning pilots
struggled to remember all the controls.  An energy disk glanced off the
top of Yasuharu's Regult.  Particle beams severed the legs and one claw
of the lobster before a flying leap from Raymond's ostrich knocked it
out of the sky.  His lasers flashed at an oncoming Shock Trooper,
barely even denting its armour.  Without warning, it was split by a
pair of missiles that caught it in the back.  The shock of the
explosion knocked over Raymond's mecha.  Yasuharu laid cover with auto-
cannon fire as Tracey helped Raymond's ostrich to its feet.
	"Why couldn't they have made these things with _arms?_" Raymond
shouted in frustration.
	Barely managing to get the mecha to its feet, Raymond loosed a
long burst of autocannon fire at a Pincer that was bearing down on the
Alpha.  A few lucky bullets caught it in the eye and it drifted into
the path of a volley of energy discs, blowing apart like a firecracker.
Yasuharu had his Regult jumping deftly between shots, trying to confuse
the lobsters into hitting one another.  He didn't see the one overhead
trying to get a bead on him.  Tracey did.  She holed it with gunfire
and watched it spiral to the ground, out of control.  As if to deny it
had been defeated, the Invid managed to stand again, only momentarily,
before another shot from Tracey finished it off.
	The threat momentarily past, Raymond asked over the radio,
"Anybody hurt?"
	"Don't think so," Tracey replied.
	"Only a scratch," answered Yasuharu.
	I breathed a sigh of relief.  I'd been worried the ostriches
might not last their first battle.
	"Good job," Nyankomago said into the radio.
	Raymond replied, "Any time, ma'am.  I had a lot of fun out
there."
	"You're not supposed to be having fun, Pratt," I scolded.
"This is a war, not a picnic!"
	Nyankomago rolled her eyes.  "Can't you just leave those poor
kids alone?  You can see they seem to know what they're doing."
	I sighed and said into the radio, "Good work, everyone.  But
please, try to be careful out there.  You're only mortal, you know, and
you only live once."
	Looking satisfied, my wife turned the music up again and began
to sing along.
	"What do the lyrics mean, anyway?" I wondered.
	"Well, this song is called 'Quenno.'  It's about the task of
collecting the dead after a battle so they can be recycled," she
explained.  "Do you want me to recite the translation?"
	"Um, no thank you," I replied, sorry I'd asked.
	"You know you really should learn the T'sentrati language,
Agyei.  It could come in handy, like if we returned to Paranka, or if
we met some T'sentrati up here, even.  I know there are bound to be
scattered groups left up here on the surface."
	"You speak the language.  You can communicate with them."
	"And if I'm not around?"
	"Most T'sentrati speak at least a little English.  We'll work
something out."
	Sounding quite annoyed, she asked, "What have you got against
learning a little about another culture, Agyei?  I _know_ you're not a
bigot, are you?"
	"Of course not!"
	"Then why don't you want to learn about the T'sentrati?" she
asked.  "Why won't you even try to learn their language?  The
T'sentrati are a very beautiful people!"
	"Okay, I'll try to learn some T'sentrati," I agreed, "and I'll
learn about their culture, too.  Will that make you happy?"
	"We'll see how you do first," she said.  "And don't slack out
on me, because I can tell whether you're really trying or not!"
	"Yes, ma'am," I replied, not at all mockingly.
	"Okay, then, let's start at the beginning. . ."




©1997/2001 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved.  Originally published in the
Backstabber Preservation Society publication "Sten Yar" Volume 2, Issue
5, Feb/Mar 1997.  Slightly altered for electronic use.  Robotech
and all borrowed elements thereof are trademarks of Harmony Gold, used
without permission.  I'm not trying to infringe on anyone's copyrights
or trademarks, or profit from anyone else's ideas.