We can see everything around us, and yet be blind....

   - Kyle Bartley, Crystal Memories

"I don't know, Max. It sounds insane." Rick and Max walked slowly down a passageway towards the Situation Room. Moments behind them was one of the strangest debriefings Rick had ever been in.

"I admit it sounds crazy, but I do know that something happened to Bartley out there." Kyle had spilled his entire vision to the RDF leaders, who listened with increasing anxiety.

"You know his reputation, Max. He's screwed up before... how can I believe any of this?"

"I got to know Kyle pretty well during the Uprisings, Rick. He was a natural pilot, if rather headstrong. He had a tendency to rush into situations, following his instincts rather than thinking things through." A small smirk flitted across Sterling's face. "Sound like anyone you know?"

A glance at Rick told Max that he was listening. "I'm not sure I can tell what kind of person he is now, but think about this... at a time when most people hated the Zentraedi, Kyle was falling in love with one." Max stopped walking, forcing Rick to check his own pace. "You and I both know he was railroaded out of the RDF for political reasons... he made a mistake any inexperienced pilot might have made, and paid a price he didn't deserve for it. A lot of people would be bitter about that... Kyle, though, has been doing everything he can to help you find out what's going on in this crazy war we've found ourselves in.

"Just something to think about," Max noted, before strolling off to rejoin the Skulls down in the hanger bay. Rick leaned against the corridor wall a moment more, before sighing and continuing on toward the Situation Room.

Kyle sat in a small observation room several decks up from Max and Rick, staring out at the stars. He had come up here after the briefing, looking for a place to sit down alone for a few minutes... ever since Saturn he had felt a little off balance.

As he sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, however, the stars slowly passing in front of the windows seemed to be increasing his disorientation.

He began to notice that he could see incredibly subtle variations in the colors of the stars... the heavens were filled with color he had never noticed before. Then, as the limb of the Earth slowly crossed into view, Kyle was hit by a sense of awe. As more of the planet slowly appeared, he felt a curious focusing of his mind... looking down on the devastated yet still beautiful homeworld of humanity, he could see minute details of color and texture, as if he could almost see individual houses, could barely perceive the tiny movements of vehicles and people far below. The whole of North America slowly passed beneith his view.

A connection, a sudden confluence of vision and memory: It was firing on the ruins of Macross City.... The thought swirled away, only one of many new perceptions dancing in his mind. Time seemed to stand still, and yet the world of man continued to rotate below him in its damaged yet still humbling depth.

Sometime later, the coming of the opposite edge of the planet slowly unveiled the stars again. Just a few degrees above the limb of the world, a single bright pinpoint of light drew his eye.

Saturn. His eyes were immediately drawn to its miniscule glare. He could see its rings, tiny but clearly visible to his unaided eyes. He felt a subtle pull from the far distant gas giant and the creature he knew waited there. The entire universe seemed to be trying to tell him things he couldn't quite hear.

Four hours after the end of the debriefing, Emil Lang found Kyle still sitting in front of the same window, his jaw hanging slightly open and his eyes glazed over. Lang already had some suspicions about what had happened out at Saturn, but one good look at Kyle at that moment all but confirmed his fears.

Dr. Jean Grant peeled off the surgical gloves and gown, removing with them the bloody stains of the operation. The young pilot would live, though he would probably never walk again, much less pilot a combat craft. He had taken a glancing hit from a Zentraedi pod, driving a piece of shrapnel into his neck. His wingman had managed to slave the injured Veritech's controls to his own and limp it home, but the tiny sliver of plastic had cut the boy's spinal cord.

Another pilot on her operating table today had not been so lucky.

A quick glance around the SDF-3 medical bay assured Grant that everything was under control. For the moment, at least, all her surviving patients were stable and being attended to by her staff. As she headed for the sinks, she allowed her thoughts to turn to her son. Like the Sterlings' daughter, young Bowie was essentially trapped aboard the massive Factory Satellite. When the Zen ships appeared above Earth several weeks before, the kids had been visiting their parents during the on-going construction of the SDF-3. Jean was forced to leave her son on Little Luna when the SDF-3 set sail... it was the safest place for the children, given the risks of trying to fly them down to the planet through a war zone. That certainly didn't stop her from worrying about Bowie, though.

She was still running cold water over her hands when Dr. Emil Lang walked through the med-bay entrance, guiding a drunkenly shuffling pilot. She watched the Robotech wizard's eerie eyes glance around the bay, eventually fixing on her. Lang dragged the scruffy looking pilot over.

Given what Jean knew about Lang, she expected this was going to be interesting. "Can I help you, Doctor?"

Lang pushed the pilot forward as he spoke. "I'd like to have Mr. Bartley here examined. I think you will find trace amounts of Protoculture residue in his bloodstream."

I was right... this is definitely interesting. "All right. Let's take a look." She took control of Mr. Bartley, steering him into a nearby examination chair. There was something mildly disturbing about him... something elusive. It wasn't until a minute or so later, as she shined a light into the pilot's eyes, that she realized what had been bothering her. The iris and pupil at the center of his eyes were the same inky, fathomless black that totally filled Dr. Lang's gaze. When Lang suddenly spoke from beside her, she gave a little start.

"Four hours ago, his eyes were an unremarkable brown, as I'm sure his RDF files will show."

She glanced at the monitors. "Well, his vital signs seem to be good, though a couple of readings are a little off. Normally, I'd say he's probably mildly drugged." Jean reached for a small blood monitor. "What happened to him?" she asked, as she hooked it up to Kyle's finger.

"Apparently, he had some form of mental contact with an intelligence at Saturn. We believe that it is related to the crystals that have been attacking some of our transport convoys."

Jean's eyebrows went up. Ask a simple question, get a wacko answer.

A glance at the medical console beside the chair confirmed Dr. Lang's assertion... there were traces of Protoculture in Mr. Bartley's blood. Jean glanced up at Lang, and then typed in some commands on the console... within seconds, she was comparing her readings to the Robotech scientist's own medical records.

"My God... he's taken a mind boost!"

Admiral Lisa Hayes sat at the small table in her quarters, her gaze lingering on the majestic planet spinning below her. In theory, both she and Rick finished their shifts at the same time. It never worked out that way, though... with a war on, her rare moments of free time between duty and sleep never seemed to match up with his.

Damn it. It had been a very rough day. Lisa wanted a few minutes of sympathy management with her fiance.

The quarters door swooshed open. Lisa grinned... for once, the grumbling had worked. Rick stepped through the entry, walked to the bed and toppled in to it, bouncing twice before coming to a rest.

Lisa stared for a moment. "Hard day at the office?"

Muffled in the bedcovers, she heard Rick reply "Weird day. Damn weird day." She heard him sigh, and then he pushed himself up into a sitting posture. Lisa stood up and walked over to him, flopping down beside him on the bed. He put his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder. They both needed sleep.

The com chimed.

There was a pause... neither one wanted to move, to acknowledge the intrusion that would undoubtedly break their time together. The com chimed again.

They both sighed and reached for the communication controls at the same moment... with a laugh, Rick motioned her to get the call.

"Admirals? This is Doctor Grant. I think there is something you should see."

Lisa looked over at Rick, who gave her a resigned look. Damn it..

Once again today, Vala Norri found herself in a small conference room down the hall from the War Room balcony. Once again, to her annoyance, the focus of the meeting was Kyle Bartley.

She noticed that both Admiral Hayes and Vice-Admiral Hunter looked tired as they sat down. Professor Lang and Doctor Grant were already seated, both looking intense and worried.

After a brief pause, Admiral Hayes broke the silence. "How did this happen, Doctor."

Jean Grant blinked at her. "I have no idea, Admiral. All I can tell you is that the readings I'm seeing are similar to those of Dr. Lang. Kyle Bartley has undergone some form of Protoculture induced alteration, similar to what we have seen with Dr. Lang and Professor Zand, though at a smaller scale."

Vala sat in her chair, a boil of confusion.