It is unlikely that we will ever know the details
	of Kergen's mission for the Robotech Masters. What
	is clear is that Kergen's fleet was detached for
	special duty from the Zentraedi Grand Fleet, and
	sent to the fringes of the Masters' failing empire.
	Perhaps they were sent into the unexplored territories
	in an attempt to find new resources to replace the
	rapidly diminishing supply of Protoculture.  However,
	when Kergen lost contact first with Dolza and soon
	after the Robotech Masters, that mission no longer
	mattered.  Perhaps the most frightening thing about
	Kergen's forces was not the life force they found,
	but the fact that we don't know how many other lost
	fleets are waiting out in the void of the galaxy.

		- Domillan Exedore Formo, as quoted in Lapstein's
		  Interviews

Looking out from the command bubble of his flagship, Kergen Krashavera watched his fleet come out of fold around him. Five years had passed since the final messages from the Zentraedi Grand Fleet told of its complete destruction by micronian warriors. Soon afterward, his communications to his overlords, the Robotech Masters, stopped being answered. Without anyone to give him orders, Kergen had taken his fleet where he willed, traveling aimlessly from system to system... searching for a purpose, a reason for existence.

At first, the freedom had been intoxicating. Without Dolza or the Masters to tell him what to do, Kergen felt free to plunder several colonies at the edge of explored space. Eventually, though, the slaughter became boring. Kergen took his fleet into the unexplored, looking for new challenges.

As each new star system proved either empty or too weak to satiate his bloodlust, Kergen began to get angry. A growing sense of indignation, a desire for revenge on those who destroyed his race and left him abandoned out here grew within him. As his much more famous clone brother Khyron had proved many times, the Krashavera clones were at their most dangerous when bored or angry. Kergen became both.

At first glance, this new star system looked as boring as the last... a standard yellow sun with a series of rocks and gas balls as companions. His assessment changed abruptly, however, as a beam of energy stabbed out of the darkness, spearing one of his Thuveral-Salan class Destroyers. Even as the two kilometer long craft expanded into a ball of fire, the beam swung across the void, cutting through a Tou Redir Scout that was escorting the Destroyer.

"Evasive! Launch pods from all ships!" As the crew arrayed below him in the operations area went into overdrive, Kergen felt a surge of anger and excitement expand within him, mixed with a small kernel of Imperatived joy. Here was finally some action! "Where did that attack come from?! Hurry up, negronta fools! Do you think we can just sit here and get cut apart?!"

He watched with satisfaction as the crew below him tensed under the barrage of words, and within seconds one of his monitors was lighting up with a picture of the attacker. By the moons of Fantoma, what is that?! It looked nothing like the battleships he was expecting. Instead, the display showed a massive pulsating crystal asteroid surrounded by what appeared to be an expanding cloud. As he watched, the energy beam sprang out from one of three massive spines hanging below the crystal structure, swinging over to slice through another of his fleet ships.

"All ships! Open fire! Kill that thing!" A thousand bolts of energy spewed forth from the Zentraedi fleet, but most seemed to get no further than the cloud surrounding the massive crystal, and those that did make it through seemed to do no damage. Kergen demanded higher magnification on the cloud, only to discover that it was made up of millions of small diamond shaped crystals, each smaller than a battlepod. As he pulled back the view, he discovered that the majority of the crystal cloud was heading straight towards his flagship and the cruisers escorting it.

No matter how much he fired at the crystals, no matter how many battlepods he threw in the way, the cloud advanced on him. He watched in horror as an uncountable number of crystals clustered around his ship. Without warning, the bridge lights darkened, and he felt the flagship stop firing.

Anger flowed through Kergen. "Continue firing, damn you!"

His adjunct, standing behind him in the command bubble, replied with a tremor in his voice. "My lord, our Protoculture is being drained!"

Kergen reached out and grabbed the adjunct by the throat. An evil glare settled into his eyes. Quietly, he said "What do you mean our Protoculture is being drained?" The adjunct, unable to speak with Kergen's hand tensing around his neck, shakily pointed at a nearby monitor. With a glance, Kergen confirmed the drain of energy.

His anger boiled over. With a primal scream, Kergen threw the adjunct across the command bubble. By the time the Zentraedi warrior hit the back wall with a sickening crunch, Kergen had turned forward again, and was screaming at the Zentraedi technicians below. "Kill them! I don't care if every warrior on the ship has to go out to pry those things off the hull by hand! I will NOT allow us to be helpless!"

His ranting was cut off by a booming, inhuman voice over the internal communications. "I HAVE YOUR VESSEL PARALIZED. YOU WILL CEASE YOUR STRUGGLES AGAINST ME. YOU WILL TELL ME WERE I CAN GET MORE OF YOUR TYPE OF POWER, OR I WILL DRAIN EVERY VESSEL HERE, AND THEN DESTROY YOU."

"Never!" Kergen raged around the command bubble, shouting down at the duty stations arrayed below him. "Kill them, you fools!"

"PERHAPS A DEMONSTRATION WILL PROVE MY POWER." Kergen watched helplessly as two of his Queadol Magdomilla Cruisers, each covered in crystals, suddenly went completely dark. The crystals attached to them broke off, pulsing with energy, and then a beam stabbed out of the night, quartering both ships. Drained of all their energy, they didn't explode. The ships just came apart, cut by a cosmic knife that spilled thousands of Zentraedi warriors into the cold death of space.

"I AM EBOLIAR. I HAVE NEVER FED ON ENERGY SUCH AS THIS. YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE I CAN OBTAIN MORE, OR BE DESTROYED." Kergen stood in shock, his rage temporarily overpowered by the suddenness of the destruction around him and his helplessness to fight it. Then, as he stood there, desperately trying to find a way to fight this enemy, a new idea came to him.

Slowly, a small smile crept across Kergen's face. Perhaps there was a way to stop Eboliar from destroying his fleet, as well as get the revenge he had wanted for so long.... He hit the communications panel.

"Eboliar! I am Kergen, leader of the Zentraedi forces! There is only one place in the universe to get an unlimited supply of Protoculture Energy! It is on a planet on the other side of the galaxy, a planet that has destroyed my people, and stolen the Protoculture Matrix from its rightful owners! If we work together, we can both get what we want!"

"YOU WILL TAKE ME TO THIS PLANET."

Kergen's smile grew larger.

It would be almost five more years before the new alliance could plunder the Robotech Masters' and Invid empires for enough Protoculture for the journey. The final fold across half the galaxy, with Eboliar in tow, drained the fleet's systems of most the unique fuel, leaving even Eboliar with only a shadow of the energy it had upon their initial contact. However, the Earth they found was also largely drained of resources and rationing the limited supplies of the interstellar fuel.

	Every war has a few special people who become known
	as its heroes, and the Crystal War was no different.
	It was Kyle Bartley's path to that status that is
	unique....

		- Zachary Fox Jr., Men, Mecha, and Crystal Dreams

Kyle looked out across the expanse of concrete. Even through the haze rising off the heat soaked ground, the distant Veritech was quite recognizable. Kyle's stomach twisted, only partially due to the reckless driving of the RDF cadet next to him. Maybe I should call Sanchez and just quit. I don't want to do this!

Kyle forced his gaze away from the Veritech and the memories it was already stirring up in his mind, and glanced towards the mountains that towered over everything in this portion of the Rio Grande river valley. The once smooth lines of the Sandia Mountains were now jagged and torn, due to a Zentraedi energy bolt that hit the center of the north peak during the Rain of Death. The destroyed peak and a crater lake out on the west mesa clearly displayed the fate of the original city of Albuquerque. The towering buildings of New Albuquerque twenty kilometers to the north were all less than ten years old.

A sudden light exploded across the horizon. Kyle glanced over toward the main launch facilities, where he saw a half dozen ships fire themselves into the heavens, trails of smoke following behind. He couldn't tell what kind of vehicles they were, but this made the eighth launch he had seen since arriving. Something major was obviously going on above the atmosphere. Almost a minute later, the deep rumble of the launch rolled over them.

It was obvious that the cadet driving the jeep was anxious to get rid of his passenger. It was an attitude Kyle was used to. Kyle was surprised he had been allowed on the RDF base in the first place, much less handed a Veritech to fly. Given my reputation, somebody at MBS must have cashed in some major favors. Even so, the rarely used launch pad was nearly fifteen kilometers from the main launch facilities. The RDF is not going to any extra lengths on my behalf, though.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, MBS news pilot Kyle Bartley had been on vacation, visiting his brother in the Southland city of Trenchtown. In the aftermath of the Malcontent Uprisings, the city in the canyon once known as Cavern City had degenerated into near anarchy; in the wake of the panic, destruction, and plagues of the final days of the Uprisings, motorcycle gangs thrived, driving out the local police and government. However, Ron Bartley and his wife Geena remained, trying to raise their young daughter Rook. On this trip to the Southlands, Kyle found out that Geena was pregnant again. He had only been there three days, however, when his editor called.

"Something big is going on in orbit, Bartley. A half hour ago, a satellite probe at Saturn detected a flash of light and some radiation anomalies before suddenly going dead. Within minutes, every RDF base on the planet was on alert. Something folded into the solar system, and we need you up there to film the action! This could be the biggest story since the Uprisings!" His editor sounded thrilled at the idea.

"Why me? This is the first vacation I've had since I came to work for you! Use one of the other news pilots!"

"Kyle, we think there's fighting going on up there. You're the only pilot we have with combat experience, and we need someone who can take care of themselves if things get hairy! You'll need to rendezvous with the SDF-3. After you get the details from the RDF command staff, follow the story where it takes you."

"Blast it, Sanchez! You know what the RDF thinks of me! Do you really think Admiral Hunter is going to let me on board that ship, much less interview anyone?"

"They already know you're coming. Now get back to the airport and fly yourself to Albuquerque. We have a Veritech waiting for you." With that, William Sanchez hung up, and Kyle was left with a dead phone in his hand, and a heavy rock in his stomach. A Veritech! He really expects me to get back into the cockpit of a Valkyrie? He almost called his editor back to tell him he quit, but his sister-in-law stopped him.

"Kyle, this thing has been hanging over you for too long. This may be your shot at redemption. Don't run away from it." The determined look on Geena's face cut through him in a way very little else had in the past two years. His habitual angry reply died before it got past his tongue. Perhaps the scariest thing of all was that he knew she was right.

And now, less than a day later, Kyle Bartley was about to get into a Veritech for the first time in almost two years. A detached part of his psyche noted the details of the Valkyrie class Veritech growing before him. It was an old VF-1A, pockmarked across its surface from years of grime and repairs. Somebody had hastily painted his personal logo, a stylized chess knight, across the tails, but the paint had streaked in a few places. The twelve Rapier missiles hanging under the wings proved the old bird could still be deadly.

I don't know if I can do this. I've spent two years trying to forget everything a Veritech reminds me of.... The Veritech obviously didn't care.

The cadet cleared his throat. Kyle glanced over at him, noticing the aggrieved expression on his face. Stepping out of the now halted jeep, he turned to thank the boy, but the Jeep was already accelerating away. Kyle stared after it a moment, and then glanced up at the fighter on the launch pad above him. He found himself studying the Veritech, scanning every detail. Kyle told himself he was re-familiarizing himself with the ship, but he knew that he was actually delaying the climb up into that terribly familiar cockpit. The huge orbital boosters hid half the ship, but Kyle could still see the sleek lines of the Valkyrie, his memories filling in the hidden parts. With a shock, he discovered a small kernel of excitement deep within him. Part of him still remembered the thrill of piloting the powerful vehicle, a feeling that he had never matched on the many planes he had flown since the disastrous end of his RDF career.

Ah hell. He grabbed the ladder, and swung himself on to the first rung.

As the cockpit canopy closed over him, he barely held back the rush of memories. The instinctual ease with which he went through the systems checklist surprised him.

"Albuquerque Control... this is Knight One. My systems are running, and I am prepared for launch."

He noticed the long pause before the reply came back, as well as the coldness of the radioed voice. "Roger, Knight One. Rotating launch platform now." His ship began to tip up, and within seconds he was almost vertical. His heart began to pound faster in anticipation. As the platform shuddered to a stop, the flight controller's voice reappeared. "Five minute launch countdown begins... now." As the on-board clock's numbers began to count down, Kyle finally gave in to the rush of memories pushing at the barriers he had created years before in his mind.

Vala....

When Kyle first met Vala Norri, he had just been transferred to the St. Laurence Citadel RDF base, straight from the Robotech Academy in Monument City. It was early 2017, at the height of the Malcontent Uprisings. After arriving, he dropped off his stuff at his bunk and headed for the hanger. Private Kyle Bartley wanted to see the Valkyrie he would be flying.

However, the first thing he noticed upon entering the huge building was not a Veritech, but a beautiful young girl with purple hair. From the moment Kyle saw her, he was hooked. His Veritech forgotten, he immediately tried to talk to her. He then discovered that being thrown ten feet on to the wing of a fighter plane leaves a number of bruises.

She awkwardly and cautiously apologized. As she reluctantly helped him off the wing, he got a close look at her hair. That's not a dye... that's her natural hair color! She's Zentraedi! Kyle found himself stammering a question to her. He wasn't entirely sure what he asked, but as she looked back at him, he studied her. She's amazing!

She replied with her name..."Vala Norri, vehicle repair technician, first class..." and then grabbed his arm.

She dragged him into the middle of the hanger, and pointed at a Veritech, a VF-1A almost as battered as the one Kyle sat in now. She said proudly that she had just finished repairing the ship. He knew the comment should scare him (especially given her Zentraedi heritage), but Vala's obvious excitement over her work defeated the feeling. He climbed into the cockpit, and for a moment even Vala was forgotten. This Valkyrie is mine! He ran his hands over the console, automatically finding the various controls and displays arrayed in front of him from months of training. He started up the on-board computer, ran a systems check, and even played around with the missile control systems. When Kyle glanced back down at Vala, standing on the floor of the hanger next to his ship, it was with a smile on his face. He found a curious expression on her face, one he was not sure how to read. However, his smile was answered, if briefly, before Vala walked away, leaving him alone.

That evening he met the rest of his squadron in the base's bar. He was initiated into the flight group in the traditional way - getting the new guy embarrassingly drunk. However, he did manage to learn before he passed out that all the male members of the squadron considered Vala Norri off-limits. Apparently, several people in the squadron had been sent to the infirmary by trying to make passes at her. As a Zentraedi female, she still had trouble being near males. She was also a former Quadrono pilot under the famous Miriya Parino Sterling, and as a successful Zentraedi, a manufactured clone who didn't age, she was far older than she looked... older than Kyle would ever be.

Somehow, none of these things stopped Kyle. The flight commander told Kyle that he was surprised Vala had shown him to his Veritech... apparently, the only time she interacted with males was when she absolutely had to for her job, and was cold and abrupt even then. Everyone in the squad agreed however that she was the best repair technician around, because she took a pride in her work that few humans could match.

Kyle managed to talk to Vala several times over the next three days. The fact that he didn't end up with any broken ribs made him a minor hero among him squad, despite his lack of combat experience. However, that was a lack that changed on the fourth day. Kyle swore that it was luck, but he managed to kill two enemy ships that day, one by traveling under the jungle canopy in Guardian mode and breaking out underneath the Officer's Pod that was controlling the Malcontent forces.

When he landed, his entire body covered in sweat and shaking from the adrenaline and fear just then bleeding off, Vala was there to formally congratulate him on his performance. It was the first time in anyone's experience that Vala had talked to a man without being addressed first. Instantly, he became the lucky charm of the 37th squadron.

Over the next month, Kyle continued to get to know Vala, at least in the occasional moments he could take advantage of her emotional confusion. This cost him a number of bruises and a mild sprained ankle, but he found that it was worth it - the confusion he saw in her eyes was enough to prove she felt something for him, despite her heritage... something she wasn't sure how to handle. It wasn't until he began to understand how the Zentraedi think that he finally challenged Vala to a competition. It took Vala five minutes to blow Kyle's simulated Veritech out of the rendered sky, and he managed to get in a couple of solid hits in the process. For a Quadrono warrior with nearly a century of combat experience, that was impressive to see in a green pilot. The next day, Kyle managed to get Vala to agree to a date.

He took Vala to a small dinner club in the nearby city of Federale. It ended up being the most unusual date in Kyle's experience. All of the responses Kyle had come to expect from women on romantic dates did not exist in Vala. She questioned everything, and was obviously confused by many of the mannerisms she saw around her at the small restaurant. Dancing completely unnerved her, but for once she didn't smack Kyle, but allowed him to teach her. Vala's vulnerable and amazed face during a slow dance made up for all the bruises she had given him in the past. At the end of the evening, as they stood outside the barracks entrance staring at each other, Kyle remembered feeling a huge desire to kiss her, but mixed with a huge fear of scaring her off, of pushing her into something she wasn't prepared to handle.

Thus, it came as a complete surprise when Vala took the initiative. Vala later admitted that she had called Miriya Sterling before the date to find out what she should expect. She had then spent the entire evening dreading and yet intrigued by the ritual that often ended these social events... this pressing of lips known as kissing. By the end of the evening, the idea had so unbalanced her, that she decided to attack the problem like a warrior... she went on the offensive. She grabbed Kyle's face with both hands, and fiercely pressed her lips to his. At first, Kyle was so shocked he didn't respond, but as his lips reacted, and his arms slowly went around her, the tough and tense warrior woman slowly softened against him. When they finally moved apart, Vala stood for a moment, staring at him with a confused and yet awed expression, and then turned and ran inside.

The next day she asked Kyle, in a direct and professional manner, if he would mind practicing kissing with her. She said that she must have some talent for it, because she seemed to be fairly good at it the first time, but like combat and repair work, she would become better with training.... Kyle, with a hidden smile, told her he would be honored to help.

The next six months were a blur of terrifying combat with Vala always at the end. She taught him combat in the simulators, while he taught her how to express her emotions, how to feel. He taught her how to care. They were the talk of the base, and mostly oblivious to it.

The one minute warning drew Kyle back to the present. The RDF control officer started counting down, and Kyle felt his pulse leap to a higher rate. It's to late to stop now. I guess I'm going up.... The count reached zero, and Kyle felt the acceleration shove him violently back into his seat. He couldn't help noticing that the radio officer did not wish him luck, a tradition on launches.

For several minutes, the only thing possible to think about was the bone rattling thrust of the booster rockets strapped to the back of the Veritech. He watched the sky darken to the color of night, the blue haze giving way to the hard points of light the stars become above the atmosphere. As the thrust finally died off, he drifted into null gee. He forced back the faint feeling of nausea he always felt when first entering a microgravity environment, and reached forward to hit the switch to disconnect from the booster pod.

Kyle was interested to see how complete the SDF-3 was. Pieces of Breetai's former flagship, along with parts from the ruined SDF-1 and several captured Zentraedi capital ships, had become the largest starship ever built by Earth, but Kyle knew that it was still incomplete. Up until a few months ago, the SDF-3 had been hidden inside Little Luna, the captured alien Factory Satellite that was the RDF's main shipyard. It had been unveiled a week ago, one of the few times Kyle had ever piloted in space, as well as being his last MBS assignment. The ship was missing the spacefold drives (which would be installed from Breetai's ship in a few months), as well as half its crew quarters and hanger decks. They had yet to even give the fortress its final coat of paint, the current primer coat a glaring blue and white reminiscent of the now buried SDF-1. The week of performance tests might have ironed out a lot of the system bugs, though.

The curve of the Earth spread behind him. He watched over his shoulders as the boosters drifted away, and then tipped his ship over, placing the globe above him. Kyle aimed the ship towards the SDF-3's beacon, and hit the autopilot, only then allowing himself to glance up and rediscover the unique majesty the Earth becomes from orbit. He finally gave in to the rest of his memories.

Those six months with Vala were the best and yet most frightening times of his life. Every few days, combat would provide a few minutes or hours with terror, adrenaline, and death. But Vala was always waiting at the end, eager to help him become better at his job, and eager to learn the boundaries of her growing feelings. She was everything Kyle wanted - a woman who was not only exotic and quite unique, but also a paradoxical combination of strength and vulnerability. In the end, it was surprising how easy it was to destroy it all.

He was flying patrol along the southeastern edge of the Zentraedi Control Zone, watching for any activity, when the signal came in. A squad of Southern Cross tanks was in serious trouble. They reported they had been ambushed by a group of Malcontent Stingers, the hybrid vehicles made from spare mecha parts that the rebel Zentraedi had learned to build. Kyle informed his squad leader of the communication, and then thrust towards the tanks' location.

"Bartley, leave it alone. That is Southern Cross business, and we shouldn't get involved." Kyle could hardly believe what his flight leader returned.

"We can't just let them get slaughtered by the enemy! I've got to help!" At the time, Kyle felt he was following his duty, but in the aftermath realized he was really trying to be a hero, too caught up in being the squadron darling to think about the consequences of what he was doing. Kyle set his radio to short range, tuning out any further protests from his squad leader, and rocketed towards the SC distress signal.

When Kyle arrived ten minutes later, he could see from a distance that the fight had been already deadly. The smoke of burning wreckage rose from several locations in the surrounding jungle, while three Stingers buzzed overhead, dodging blasts coming from below the trees. Bartley used the element of surprise to get a missile lock on one, tracking the smoke trail all the way to target. The Stinger blew into a cloud of mismatched debris, as Kyle switched to Guardian mode and dove for the trees. He could feel one of the remaining Stingers getting a lock on him, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a tank shell bisect the ship in a burst of flame. One of the harried Southern Cross tanks must have taken advantage of the distraction he created.

As he dodged both trees and bolts of energy raining on the jungle from the last Stinger, Kyle wondered where the rest of the Malcontent forces were. From the tone of the distress call, he expected a full sized offensive, but the enemy forces so far were few and desperate. He pulled suddenly out of the jungle canopy, trap shooting the last Stinger as it overshot above him... an unconscious replay of his first combat mission. It exploded, leaving a trail of smoke and debris during its plunge to the ground.

"Thanks, Jaguar 17! We appreciate the help. ATAC Seventh Cavalry out."

With a satisfied feeling glowing in his gut, Kyle Bartley glibly replied, and headed back towards home base.

Upon landing, he was chewed out fiercely by his flight leader. Of course, he expected that, and bore it in silence. Only after being assigned enough extra duties to make his future life miserable was he allowed to take a shower. After washing the stink of combat off, Kyle headed to the base's bar, hoping Vala was there. He didn't find her, but he sat down at their favorite corner booth and ordered a stiff drink, ignoring the news broadcast displayed on the large screen across the bar. He did not have to wait long, for either the alcohol or Vala.

He had just ordered a second drink when she walked in. Vala headed straight for his table, and sat down next to him. She had an expression he had never seen before, though the painful kick he got under the table helped define it.

"You helped the Southern Cross today." Her eyes glared at him. "They think of only one thing... the destruction of my people!"

"Vala, they are supposed to be our allies! I couldn't just let them get killed!"

She stared back for a moment before responding, obviously conflicted in her feelings. "I do not trust Anatole Leonard or his army!" However, she did stay, and even ordered a drink, something rare for the Zentraedi woman. For the next few minutes, life seemed good to Kyle.

The news report changed that.

"A little over five hours ago a Southern Cross tank squadron wiped out a village of peaceful human and Zentraedi civilians. The town of Vista Del Tratinu was established by a group of micronized Zentraedi who wanted to give up the pursuit of war, and were joined by a number a human sympathizers. According to reports, the Southern Cross tanks bombarded the village, killing most of the population. The event sparked riots throughout the Southlands and the Arkansas Protectorate that have already killed dozens. In defense of the action, Field Marshall Anatole Leonard told reporters that the town had been supplying the Zentraedi rebels, and thus became a valid military target. He further mentioned that a lone RDF Veritech had helped eliminate the Malcontent defenders of the village."

The heavily jowled face of Field Marshal Leonard appeared onscreen. "This just proves that even elements of the RDF believe that the alien threat must be met with as much force as possible. We cannot afford to...."

The next thing Kyle knew, he was airborne. After a brief moment tumbling across the room, he came to a jarring halt against the wall. Then Vala was above him, her fist cocked and then planted into his stomach. She was immediately stopped by several officers, but Kyle would always remember vividly the cries of "Hajoka!"... traitor in the Zentraedi language, as he fought for breath while she was dragged off him. Even more distinct was the look of pain and anger on her face. The following inquiry and his dishonorable discharge seemed small punishment compared to the lost spark of Vala's companionship.

Two days after his discharge, as he slouched dejectedly in a bar on the fringes of Monument City, a man sat down next to him. When he said "we want you to join the Southern Cross," the bouncer had to pry Kyle off him.

He never tried to contact Vala after he was removed from the RDF. The horror he felt over the destruction of the village and the deaths the ensuing riots had caused proved to him that he deserved the punishments he got. Kyle got a job at MBS, where he pursued his assignments with reckless abandon, and drank himself into a stupor in between. Those who have destroyed their lives have very little to live for.

But now, sitting in the cockpit of a Veritech again, he knew that this was part of what had been missing. The fear of impending danger and possible combat, the surge of adrenaline, the power of a Protoculture fueled combat fighter... he felt more alive than he had in a long time. And Vala's on the SDF-3. He felt both excitement and anxiety over the thought.

His first glimpse of the SDF-3 came as a highlighted dot on his radar and the HUD, the ship appearing just above the curved horizon. Minutes later, he could see the ship with the naked eye. Suddenly, a flare of light drew his eyes to the side. A glaringly bright ball of energy had appeared, rapidly dissipating into a Zentraedi capital ship. I would call that confirmation that something is going on in orbit! I think that's a Thuveral-Salon Destroyer! Since the ship still had the original Zentraedi coloring, Kyle knew that this was not one of the few Zentraedi ships the RDF had captured and integrated into the fleet after the Rain of Death. As the SDF-3 slowly grew before him, he watched distant balls of fire start flashing around the Earth sentinel. The ship was under attack!

Without a conscious thought, Kyle disengaged the autopilot and hit the afterburners. There was a major story going on in front of him, and he had to get it on tape! He made sure the MBS camera tied to the laser turret underneath him was active. At twenty kilometers from the SDF-3, his radar finally picked up the enemy fighters, a mess of battlepods and a few tri-thrusters, with five missile pods heading towards the SDF-3. He took in the cockpit displays as fast as he could, and made sure his weapons were armed... just in case. Kyle then flipped his radio over to the SDF-3 flight control frequency, and called in his callsign and position.

He was shocked to see Admiral Hunter himself appear on his console. "SDF-3 to Knight-1. This is Vice Admiral Rick Hunter. Landing clearance denied! We are under attack from Zentraedi forces!"

Kyle decided to go for gold. He wanted to know who these Zentraedi were. "Malcontents? In space?!"

"No... these are new forces. We don't know where they came from, but we could sure use your help!"

A surge of adrenaline rocketed through Kyle. "My help? In case you forget, I'm...."

He was interrupted before he had a chance to continue. "Consider yourself temporarily reinstated! Blast it, Bartley! We weren't expecting this!"

They needed him! He knew there had to be a catch somewhere, but for that moment, he felt almost like he was back in the RDF.

"All right...I'll do what I can." With that, he let his targeting display pull up the closest enemy pod. At three klicks, he could get a lock with the short range Rapier missiles he carried. It took several minutes of tense waiting as he closed the distance, but finally the tone sounded, and Kyle instantly let two small missiles fire themselves off his wing, corkscrewing away on trails of smoke. Seconds later, the still distant battlepod disappeared from his radar, a sphere of debris and flame marking the location of its death. Kyle immediately targeted another enemy.

Kyle's radio lit up, a face appearing on one of the side cockpit displays. "Skull Leader to Knight-1... is that you, Kyle? It's been a few years...." He immediately recognized Max Sterling, the ace pilot who had helped win the Robotech War by falling in love with a Zentraedi woman. He had met Sterling when he and his wife Miriya were on an inspection tour of the Zone RDF bases. Since the all Zentraedi Twenty-Third squadron had been stationed at St. Laurence Citadel, the sight of the hybrid couple of ace pilots became common. Kyle had taken advantage of a rare situation, using Max Sterling as a teacher in both combat and romancing a Zentraedi woman.

"Several Zentraedi Missile Pods are making bombing runs on the SDF-3. If you can, try to take them out!" Max's face vanished from the console.

He's testing me! Okay... let's see if I still have the talent. He brought up one of the missile pods on his target display. Five klicks away, on the other side of the fortress. He pulled around to a new vector, and hit the afterburners, waiting for the range to drop enough for his missiles to get a lock. At three kilometers, the tone sounded, and he sent two missiles towards the first target, immediately targeting the next pod and waiting for another lock. Another two missiles left his wing mounts.

Now at less than a kilometer, he was too close for missiles. A flip of a switch started transformation, and as Guardian mode wrapped around him, he tracked the gunpod across the heavens, aiming ahead of the first pod he saw. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the image of his missiles striking another missile pod. It dropped behind too fast for him to see what the outcome was, but missiles rarely leave more than debris. He thumbed the trigger of his gunpod, and watched with satisfaction as the pod in front of him came apart from the impact of the kinetic slugs smashing through it, the rack of missiles attached to top of the anthropomorphic craft spinning off alone.

"Good flying, Kyle! Like riding a bicycle -- you never forget!" He noticed that Skull One's face had reappeared on his displays. "Watch it, though! You have a couple of pods on your tail!"

Kyle instantly threw the legs of his articulated fighter forward, the sudden thrust backward causing the pods behind him to shoot out ahead. He riddled one with slugs from the gunpod. As it tumbled off to the side, a trail of fire and debris behind it, Kyle saw a Veritech flash overhead, its blue trim marking the pilot. Kyle could only watch in astonishment as Max took out the other pod, then proceeded to kill two incoming Fighter Pods with seemingly casual flips of his gunpod. Kyle pulled around and highlighted the last missile pod, hosing the area with bullets even as the missile pod launched its missiles. One of the missiles exploded meters after launch, and the missile pod spun off, exploding seconds later. However, one missile got through, diving towards the hull of the SDF-3.

The missile was too fast to catch... Kyle was helpless to stop the warhead. He tracked it all the way to the massive ship, seeing the small explosion flower against its surface. I hope no one was in that section.

He flipped his target display over to the closest enemy ship, and discovered that the remaining pods were retreating, a damaged Officer's Pod, trailing smoke, leading them. A number of Skull Veritechs pursued.

As Kyle throttled back, allowing Max's pilots to continue the chase without him, Rick Hunter's face once again appeared on his displays. "SDF-3 to Knight-1, you are now cleared for landing."

The Admiral's face fading from the console in front of him, Kyle pulled around to face the Super Dimensional Fortress. He followed the landing beacon to one of the two working landing bays, both on the upper hull of the ship, and negotiated the launch tunnel into the hanger.

He had not even climbed out of the Veritech yet when his name rang out through the hanger bay. "Pilot Kyle Bartley, report to the Situation Room immediately."

He climbed down from the Veritech, finally standing upon the deck plates of the large bay. Several other Veritechs were present, and a shuttle was slowly moving up on an elevator from the storage bays below, a huge radar dish perched on top. Kyle strode past the supply shop, and into the elevator, punching the key for the Situation Room.

When he arrived on the War Room command balcony, he found one of the huge screens across the command center displaying a massive face, instantly recognizable the world over from the jewel-eyed metal plate covering half of his features. Lord Breetai was speaking, his booming voice easily filling the massive command center. "We do not know who these Zentraedi are, Admiral."

It wasn't until he spoke that Kyle noticed the shrunken figure standing with him on the command deck. Exedore's unmistakable voice aimed itself at Admiral Hunter. "It is entirely possible, Admiral Hunter, that a few Zentraedi were left behind by Dolza or escaped the battle that destroyed most of our race. Without interrogating one of our attackers, we cannot give you more information."

Hunter paused, running his options through his head. He then turned back to the massive screen. "All right, Breetai... contact me if you find anything new. Hunter out." Breetai nodded, and the screen went blank, quickly replaced with tactical data. The Vice-Admiral glanced at Exedore, who also nodded before heading for the elevator. It was then that Kyle noticed the technician manning one of the command deck consoles. As he focused on her, he could tell that Vala had already been staring at him. The expression on her face was poignantly familiar - her Zentraedi heritage gave her little ability to hide her emotions, and he recognized the look of confusion underneath the stubbornly angry surface. God... she's still as beautiful as I remember.

He stared back a moment, and then forced himself forward. As Kyle stopped next to her station, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Vala...I thought I'd never see you again."

"I was hoping the same thing." The almost casual coldness of her reply had him reassessing the emotions he thought he had seen in her. "And furthermore, that's Chief Technician Norri, Mr. Bartley. I suppose I expected you'd be here to cover the war...I'm sure you'll do your usual thorough job."

Before he had said more than one sentence, he was on the defensive. He felt his stomach shrivel, but he forced a hard expression on his face. "Look, I just...."

She bolted up out of her chair. "Do not presume upon our former love! Your dishonor stains us both, and forgiveness is not the Zentraedi way! Simply make sure our paths do not cross!" Every pair of eyes on the command balcony was suddenly centered on the two of them.

Kyle was about to reply, attacking back at Vala despite the audience, when he heard Admiral Hunter call him over. He turned away with a final glare at Vala, and as he walked to the front of the balcony, Kyle made a decision. He didn't wait for the RDF leader to speak first. "Admiral, there's a war on. You need good pilots...and you know I'm good. I can do a lot more for Earth than just snap pictures!"

Rick Hunter stared a moment at the angry young man standing in front of him before replying. "Kyle, you did pretty good out there. But I'm not about to risk combat morale by placing someone with your...personal history...into active duty. The best I can do is offer you a mercenary position... you'll have full access to our shops and repair bays, and we'll pay you the best rates we can. You'll be free to fly where you want, so you can do your reporting job as well. Dismissed." Then Admiral Hunter turned away.

Kyle's first reaction was anger, but years of self-hatred tempered the impulse. He recalled what his sister-in-law's words... perhaps it was time to stop running away from past mistakes. Despite the anger and self-doubts, he forced himself to stand straight. With Vala's menacing scowl following him, Kyle walked to the elevator.

Once back in the hanger, he stopped by the repair shop, discovering that Hunter had made good on the deal, and he had some credit. He added some Protoculture fuel, refilled his ammo and missiles, and even had a little extra for an enhanced radar and communications system.

It was with a feeling of satisfaction that Kyle Bartley once again sat in the cockpit of his Veritech. He brought the craft around as the canopy lowered, aiming himself for the launch tunnel. After a final check with SDF-3 traffic control, he lifted off the ground and accelerated through the passageway. He burst across the threshold of the hanger doors, and watched as the SDF-3 main cannon shafts passed beneath and then dropped behind. Now life gets interesting. Maybe I should go see what the Southern Cross thinks about this conflict. He felt a brief twinge of the old anger when he thought of the Southern Cross, but he quickly supressed it. Hell, I'm supposed to be an unbiased reporter.... Kyle brought up Armor Platform 13 on his travel map, and let the autopilot calculate a course. Turning towards the waypoint the computer placed on his heads-up-display, he pushed the throttle to full, and then activated the autopilot.

Kyle Bartley's coverage of the Crystal War was just beginning.