Macross Fan Fiction ❯ Underground Down Under ❯ Exposition ( Chapter 4 )

Robotech: Underground Down Under

Chapter IV: Exposition

"There. All through, mate," Chauvel said, tossing the last sliver of shrapnel from Gordon Sabol's side into a waste bin in the ACIF's infirmary, "Your collarbone will probably be sore for a bit, but it doesn't look like any bones are broken."

"Thank you, doctor," Sabol replied, tugging his holed jumpsuit back into place.

"Me? No, I'm not a doctor," Chauvel chuckled as Sabol stood up. "I'm just the only one here who bothered to read a medical encyclopedia we stumbled across."

"Well, thanks anyway, Mr. Chauvel," Sabol corrected himself.

"Phil will do. You'll want to see Owens outside. He'll escort you back to the commander."

Sabol began to walk to the door, then paused. "By the way, I don't suppose you have any more of those around here," he said, gesturing to Phil's slouch hat.

Chauvel looked surprised for a moment. Then he nodded with a smile: "Thought you'd fit in better with one? Hmmm," he considered for a moment. "No, not unless you have a little head. We've got about a half dozen size 6s left…Damn things wouldn't fit a ten-year old."

Barker put his hands behind his head and whistled. "That's a pretty long journey you're talking about, Sabol. That's what-"

"About 2000 miles from here to the transmitter station," Sabol finished for him. "And another 700 miles from there to the New Perth bunker if we can't uplink from the transmitter directly."

Barker stood up from his chair and paced around the command center to peer at a paper map of the Australian continent pinned to the wall. "Sabol, I don't know how much you know about the ACIF-"

"Nothing really," Sabol interrupted, "besides your name, and now, what the acronym stands for."

"-Nothing. Well, you have to realize that Arnhem Land is our home. Many of us have families here that we would give our lives to protect. Our resources are limited as it is.

"Believe me, Commander Barker, I don't take asking this of you lightly," Sabol replied grimly. "I know it's a dangerous trip, and you are under no obligation to risk what mecha and soldiers you have. But the way I see it, you here in Australia don't have a chance of defeating the Invid.

"Sure, you might keep your families from being enslaved," Sabol went on, "and you might take out some hives. But in the long run, the Invid will wear you down and kill you. I'm offering you a chance to assist those who actually are in a position to end this war. If we succeed, it could mean the difference between victory and defeat when we strike Reflex Point."

"And if your Colonel Wolff fails in this strike?" Barker asked darkly.

"Then you've still secured yourself an eye in the sky which will let you spot Invid activities and movements- on your home turf," Sabol thought to add, "practically before they know what they're doing themselves."

Barker leaned back against the wall. Sabol was struck by the man's complete transformation from jovial to pensive.

"Look commander, you don't have to decide anything right this second," Sabol spoke up, fishing out a printed report from a haversack salvaged from the Alpha's cargo bay. "In the meantime, here's a present for you. It's a Robotech Expeditionary Force brief on capacities of various Invid mecha and ground installations encountered during the Tirol campaign."

Barker took the proffered report and nodded. "I'd better confer with my officers. Perhaps Owens can show you around the base."

Owens, a young man about Sabol's age, wasted no time in directing the newcomer towards the best part. The Mecha Bay.

"So, Mr. Sabol," Owens was saying conversationally as they walked down the corridor from the Control Center, "are you a member of the REF? With the report and all…"

"No, no," Sabol answered. "The report comes from Colonel Wolff. He came back after the Second Robotech War from Tirol."

"Yes, we heard about him," Owens replied. "The UEG turned him into quite a propaganda hero."

"Anyway, he brought back the designs for prototypical equipment, like the Cyclone stored onboard my Alpha."

"Right, that reconfigurable battle armor," Owens exclaimed. "Old Wheatley, our uh, bio-maintenance engineer was gushing about it after you came in. Colonel Wolff's designs: are they why we've been seeing so much REF equipment?"

"Well, there haven't been any REF missions since Wolff arrived that I know of, if that's what you mean," Sabol answered thoughtfully. "I know that the Robotech Factory Satellite manufactured a significant quantity of Alphas, Cyclones, and the newer model CVR armor prior to its destruction in the Invid invasion. Most of them are stored on still stored on the Moon, though."

"Right, and your mission is going to clear the way for their use. I understand."

"So, how did Commander Barker manage to get all of you together?" Sabol asked. "Your resistance group, I mean. After the UEF collapsed, you'd be surprised how many soldiers just ran for the hills rather than banding together."

"Well, not many of us are actually soldiers," Owens replied. "Most of those who went out to fight in the Defense Forces were stationed elsewhere. Australia isn't exactly high in importance for the Earth Government."

"Just as well," said Sabol. "The Invid took out most of the UEG when they first invaded."

"I suppose. Well, anyway, the older generation was seasoned enough from service in the Citizens Military Force when we were invaded during the Global Civil War. I learned," Owens gestured to the carbine slung at his shoulder, "to shoot from my father. Barker is one of the only robbies to come back home. When the Invid arrived, he just banded us together- you know, his neighbors, the people he could trust. And we're here."

The entrance to the bay opened onto a fairly large room filled with a motley assortment of Veritechs, each in its own compartment separated from one another by concrete walls. There were a perhaps five VF-1s, two Logans, and three Alphas. Sabol noticed that the ACIF had made the point of camouflage painting the Veritechs to blend in with the rugged terrain outside. Emblazoned on the wings and fuselage in place of an RDF or TASC insignia were a gold starburst pattern much like those on the group's hat badges.

"Ah, Mr. Sabol!" a voice of to the side called out. Owens wasn't kidding when he called Wheatley old; however, white haired man with a welder's shield resting on his head still managed to put a spring in his step as he approached the two men. He pumped Sabol's hand enthusiastically.

"Where did you get all this mecha?" Sabol inquired, very much impressed.

"Ah. The first-gen Veritechs we found at an abandoned UEF base up near Darwin. The rest we acquired just recently when we came across a Southern Cross shuttle that apparently crash landed when the Invid arrived."

Whitley removed the welder's helmet and set it down on a workbench.

"I'm sorry that we weren't able to salvage your Alpha. The main engines were just crushed by the impact," Whitley said with the voice of a doctor describing a terminally ill patient. He gestured to Sabol's jumpsuit. "By the way, is that an REF uniform?"

"This? No," Sabol responded, poking a finger in one of the small shrapnel holes in its left side. "This uniform actually was designed for the ALUCE-2 personnel, though I'm told that it is very similar to the one the REF is about to adopt. It allows you to put on the newer Cyclone CVR armor without having to remove any clothing first."

"ALUCE-2? So you were with the Army of the Southern Cross?" Whitley asked.

"Actually, I was," Sabol sighed. "But it wasn't at ALUCE-2. A Long story if you'd like to hear it." They did.

"Basically, I served in the Tactical Armored Space Corps. My squadron was transferred to ALUCE-1 after they got it back up and running during the Masters' invasion. The Masters effectively wrecked the base shortly before the end of the war. The UEF built a new base nearby to house several hundred Veritechs for use when and if the Invid invaded. Most of it was REF equipment, hence the jumpsuits. However, those of us stationed Earthside who received Cyclones and Alphas received the same suits, armor as the ALUCE personnel."

"But you were in the TASCs, right at the end of the war," Whitley said excitedly. "Follow me!"

The mechanic scurried around a bend in the bay; Sabol belatedly realized that the bay was roughly V, or check-mark shaped, apparently to better isolate the mecha lest one explosion within the bay destroy the entire compliment.

The segment had another pair of Alphas, but it was a larger fighter, still with a gleaming white paint job that Whitley had stopped in front of.

"Oh, man," said Sabol. "This has to be the first time I've seen an Armored Gyro Assault Copter since the invasion."

"There was only one on board the shuttle," Whitley explained. "Looks like the ASC wasn't even bothering with squadron cohesion by the time it crashed."

"And you have a full stock of cluster missiles too," Sabol enthused, running his hand along the smooth metal of the Veritech's nose.

"You can fly it then," the engineer enthused. "I mean, the design, with those rotor blades and all, was a bit complex for me to risk testing it out. It ah, didn't come with a manual." He winked.

"Well, Mr. Sabol. Looks like we found you a real nostalgic replacement for that Alpha," Owens piped up, grinning.

"Owens!" a woman's voice called from back near the entrance. "Hey Owens! Where's the Yank? Barker wants to see him again."

"Ok then," Sabol said, feeling a pang of nervousness jolt through him as he turned from the pallid Veritech to his guide. "Let's go see the commander."