Robotech Freedom Fighters by Naia Zifu Chapter Six: Welcome to Blue River My wife was in an unusually good mood even she was at a loss to explain. Sitting dangerously close to the campfire, she happily strummed her acoustic guitar and sang Yellow Dancer songs, encouraging others to join in if they knew the words. "Do you believe in the causes you're fighting for?" she sang, somehow making the song sound cheerful and optimistic. "You used to believe yesterday. Now what can you say, now that you're so far from home? You're out there on your own. . ." "Lonely soldier boy," Raymond and Tracey chimed in, trying not to be too off-key. I sneaked away when no-one was looking, wishing to be alone with nature for a while. The moon was full and bright in the sky, making the fresh snow glisten like diamonds. I threw myself onto it and made an angel, then wondered why. I listened to the snow crunch beneath my boots as I walked, and tried to get a persistent Hot Soy song out of my head. Thanks to Nyankomago's T'sentrati lessons I was beginning to understand some of the lyrics, and I wasn't liking them. Every one of their songs was about death and violence. Why were there no T'sentrati love songs? I rested in the cold, wet snow again, gazing up at the stars and daydreaming. I'd heard the stars were getting farther apart as the universe expanded, and eventually the constellations we know would cease to exist. I wondered idly if that would happen in my lifetime, then if I'd even _want_ to live that long. . . "Whatever Nyankomago's on today," I said aloud, heaving a sigh, "I think I could do with some about now." So I got up and started back for the camp, humming that infernal Hot Soy song and wishing it would go away. Nyankomago smiled at me as I approached, and continued leading everyone in song. I sat close to my wife, nervous about being so close to the fire, but trying not to think about it. Her good mood was contagious; I couldn't help singing along. Invid? What were Invid? That night we knew of no such word. Dawn crept up on us quietly, unnoticed until the sky was ablaze with the pinks and purples of morning and the sun was a red ball on the horizon. We hadn't slept at all. Invid? What were Invid? They thought to remind us then, the morning sun shining on their armour as they patrolled the peaks and valley. Sleepy warriors were shocked awake as they scrambled to their mecha, ready to risk their lives again for the sake of their planet. Missiles left trails of smoke as they sought out their targets, dropping bits of Invid onto the pristine landscape. Larry, still unused to fighting in Cyclone armour, took a swat with a claw before Yasuharu blew the lobster's arm off and holed its armour repeatedly with autocannon fire. Tracey was forced into battloid mode after her Alpha's wing was damaged, but even so caught another in the belly as it dove in for its attack. Raymond took some pretty bad gashes from one agile, persistent Pincer before finally managing to hole it with plasma cannons. Henry went for a ride on Lobster Airlines, his Cyclone leaping onto the back of a Pincer so a nearby Shock Trooper would fire upon it, jumping clear before it exploded, then taking care of the Shock Trooper with a couple of well-placed missiles. "They're getting better," Tracey observed once she was safely back on the ground again, "you've got to give them that much." "Yeah," Raymond agreed, "unfortunately for us." Yasuharu frowned as he surveyed the damage to the mecha, muttering harsh-sounding words in Japanese. Kimiyo handed little Taka off to Nyankomago and was at her husband's side in an instant, asking if there were anything she could do to help. It was easy to forget she'd been quite the grease monkey herself before her pregnancy had forced her to take some time off. Larry spoke up, "Well, we can't stay here how, guys. Some- body's bound to miss those lobsters and send more to see where they got to, and I don't wanna be here when they arrive!" "That goes double for me," Henry said. "So where are we headed now?" I was already poring over a map of the area, looking for any signs of civilisation. About a day's travel away, the map showed what seemed to be a small city. We could probably stop there for a couple of days to give Yasuharu and Kimiyo a chance to repair the damaged mecha, providing the Invid hadn't gotten there first. "Welcome to Blue River," read a sign posted at the edge of the city, which, I was astonished to find, was intact and populated. We concealed our mecha in a convenient stand of evergreens on the outskirts of town before we entered in our conventionally-powered ATVs. Fatigued by the long drive and suffering from extreme sleep deprivation, we all agreed it would be best to check into a motel right away and get some rest. Of course, that was perfectly fine with Nyankomago and me; being what we are, we naturally prefer to sleep during the day. But come nighttime, we were all ready to get out there and explore the city. We had followed the sounds of music into a night-club called "Graveyard Shift" at the centre of town. There was something about that place. . .as I entered the building I felt a strange sensation, as if the air inside were electrically charged. On stage was a pretty good punk-rock band, the lead vocallist of which was a stunning T'sentrati woman with unruly green hair, who wore a torn, dingy David Bowie t-shirt and shredded jeans. She was the only T'sentrati I'd seen in Blue River, and sang in English for the benefit of the entirely human audience. Her voice was clear and quiet, and against the steady pulsing beat of the music took on a sort of hypnotic quality. "Isn't this the most beautiful music you've ever heard?" Nyankomago whispered, her dark eyes dancing. Perhaps it was. Something about the woman's voice made me feel so calm and content, or maybe it was just the song. . . "I love you more dead than alive. There's a captivating quality in your hollow eyes. Bones scrupulously cleaned and shining white, make good company on these cold winter nights." When the band stopped for a break, the vocallist came directly to our table. Without asking, she took a chair from the next table and sat backwards on it, near my wife and me. "All right, who the hell are you and what are you doing in _my_ city?" she hissed. Nyankomago and I exchanged puzzled looks. "Don't play with me, micronians," the woman snapped, "you think I don't know what you are? I _felt_ you the moment you came into the building!" ©1997/2001 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved. Originally published in the Backstabber Preservation Society publication "Sten Yar" Volume 2, Issue 7, July/Aug 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.