Robotech Freedom Fighters by Naia Zifu Chapter Two: Underground The T'sentrati led us farther and deeper into the cave. The only illumination was that from our lanterns. Then, about five kilometres in, I began to see lights ahead. It couldn't have been daylight-- the path we had been following was descending steadily the entire time. Ultimately, the cavern opened up into an immense chamber with a winding path descending into what seemed to be... a city? I blinked a few times to be sure my eyes weren't playing tricks. It was really there-- a city inside the cave, kilometres below the surface, bustling with activity. Nyankomago uttered the words I'd just been thinking, "It looks just like Macross." And actually, it did. From the layout of the streets to the names on the buildings, that underground city was exactly like Macross. The T'sentrati led us down the path and into the city. We passed by the building where Nyankomago and I used to live-- or at least its exact duplicate. As we approached the White Dragon restaurant, I almost expected Minmei to come out in her Mandarin dress and trademark buns with braids to welcome us, but instead there were two armoured T'sentrati outside standing guard. We were searched and our weapons confiscated before we were allowed to enter. That building may have resembled the White Dragon outside, but the inside was the bridge of the SDF-1. Sitting in the captain's chair was an attractive, violet-haired T'sentrati female wearing a miniature officer's uniform. Nyankomago showed a sudden shock of recognition. "T'sen Rau!" she exclaimed, giving a respectful T'sentrati salute. "Maggie, I'd heard you were dead..." The T'sentrati's glacial expression softened. She ordered the guards away. Then she spoke to my wife in heavily-accented English. "That's what I _wanted_ everyone to think," she explained. "If I didn't know better, Nyankomago, I'd think you were one of us. You don't seem to have aged at all." Nyankomago answered quickly, "Oh, I've just been taking good care of myself. _You_ built this city, Magdomilla?" Magdomilla laughed. "_We_ built Paranka, Nyankomago. It is meant as an oasis of peace for humans and T'sentrati alike, a place of refuge from the wars and destruction taking place on the surface world." "Paranka? Like the Malcontent group?" "Paranka, like the creatures of T'sentrati legend," she explained. "They were said to have burrowed under the ground, so we thought it the proper name for a city constructed underground." Nyankomago wondered, "Why did you make your city look like Macross?" "You don't like it?" Magdomilla appeared deeply hurt. "I, um, well... it feels strange. Outside it feels like Macross, but inside..." She gestured around at the room. "Most of Paranka is exactly like Macross," Magdomilla said with an embarrassed laugh. "I just like to sit in this chair sometimes. I like the feeling of power it gives me." Tracey interrupted, "Excuse me, but are we prisoners here or what?" "No, you're free to go wherever you like and leave whenever you like. You are guests in Paranka." Nyankomago asked me whether we would be staying for a while. At first I was strongly against the idea, but she argued that we were all tired and there wasn't another town for hundreds of kilometres in any direction. Finally I agreed that we would stay for a few days, just long enough to rest and take on supplies. "Do you have room for us to stay for a few days?" Nyankomago asked. "Of course," she answered. "Stay as long as you like." Then she called for human guides to show us where we would be staying. It was our building-- inside and out. It was our old apartment, exactly as I remembered it, less our personal effects. For all intents and purposes, we were home. The only reminders that we weren't in Macross were that artificial lights and cavern walls had replaced the EVE sun and sky, and that in Paranka, humans were the minority group. Nyankomago settled easily into the familiar environment. I had only been staring out the window for a minute, and when I turned around she had her boots off and was stretched out comfortably on the sofa. "It's just like our old place," she said. "Yes, I know. Strange, isn't it?" She got up and walked slowly to me, opening her shirt all the way. "Oh, I don't know about that. I think it's kind of nice. It reminds me of all the great times we had together in Macross, remember?" I held her body close to mine. Her eyes shone with anticipation. I kissed her lips, her neck, her chest... A pleasured growl rose from her throat. I drank in her essence. I knew all her thoughts. I felt all her joys and sorrows. It had been so long since I'd had her that I had forgotten how delicious she was. Time and space melted away, and we were oblivious to our surroundings. Neither of us noticed the door had opened until we heard Kimiyo's screams. Nyankomago quickly buttoned her shirt as I tried to calm Kimiyo. I told her that she had just happened in on Nyankomago and me as we were making out, and that nothing unusual had occurred. Her heart rate returned to normal almost immediately. She stopped screaming. But Yasuharu, having heard his wife's screams, came running to her aid. "What's wrong, Kimiyo?" he asked excitedly. "Is it the baby? Is it time?" Kimiyo looked at me, then replied, "No, I'm fine. Baby's not ready yet. I just came in at the wrong time, that's all. Saw too much. Nothing strange happened. I'll come back later." Yasuharu and Kimiyo left, and I closed and locked the door. Nyankomago gave a sigh of relief. "That was close." "Too close," I agreed. "I suppose we'll have to be more careful from now on." But even as I said that I saw she was giving me that look again. "At least can we go to the bedroom this time?" I asked. Apparently in no mood to wait that long, she ripped open my shirt and had me right then and there. ©1996/1998 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Originally published in the Backstabber Preservation Society publication "Sten Yar" Volume 1, Issue 2, Aug/Sept 1996. Slightly altered for electronic use. Robotech and all the 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.