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their distinguished service。 Gentlemen： We proudly acknowledge your achievements！〃
The female lieutenant had carried over a flat unlidded box； and from this Maistroff lifted out the medals； pinning one to each breast in the line and offering his hand in congratulations。 Rick wanted to pinch himself to make certain he wasn't dreaming。 He craned his neck to try to get a good look at the medal after Maistroff had decorated him。
When the brief ceremony ended； Rick left the room。 He found Roy Fokker waiting for him； all smiles and beaming like a proud older brother。
〃Nice going； Rick。〃
They shook hands and embraced。 Rick said； 〃I still can't believe it。〃
〃Amateur civilian ace for eight years running and you're not used to awards by now？〃 Roy laughed。 〃e on down to my office for a minute。〃
They caught up on the events of the past few days as they walked。 At the office； Roy motioned Rick to a chair and positioned himself behind the desk opposite him。 He opened a drawer； retrieved something； and tossed it to Rick。
It was a small； flat leather case。 Rick hefted it and asked； 〃What is it？〃
Roy's smile was enigmatic。 〃Go on； open it。〃
Rick snapped open the lid： Lieutenant's bars rested on green velvet beds。
〃You've been promoted； Rick。〃
Lieutenant Rick Hunter。
Rick asked Roy to say it so he could get used to the sound of it。
〃Lieutenant Rick Hunter。〃
Rick signaled his approval with a nod。 It sounded fine。 Next he turned his attention to the information contained in the dossiers Roy had given him。
I'm assigning two subordinates to your mand。
Some of the dossier material flashed across the monitor screen on Roy's desk： CORPORAL BEN DIXON； 378 HOURS IN FLIGHT SIMULATION AND 66 ACTUAL HOURS。 CLASS A。 MAXIMILLIAN STERLING； 320 HOURS IN FLIGHT SIMULATION AND SO ACTUAL HOURS。 CLASS A。
While he listened； Rick absently fingered the medal of valor pinned to his jacket。
〃These guys are novices； Roy。〃
Roy stuck out his jaw。 〃You're the old veteran now？〃
〃Well； I've flown more missions than these two。〃
〃To me you're not a lot different from them； Little Brother。 You've flown more than some but a lot less than most of us。 It's too early for you to get cocky。〃
Rick considered this sullenly。 He removed the medal and regarded it。 What is it really？ Just something to make me feel better about going out as cannon fodder again。
Roy had gotten up to answer a knock at the door； and when Rick looked up； he found his two new subordinates stepping forward in formal salute to introduce themselves。
Dixon； the larger of the two by almost a foot； was muscular and aggressive。 He had a crop of undisciplined brown hair that rose from his head like flames caught in freeze frame。 There was a note of arrogance about him； but this was softened somewhat by his husky self…mocking laughter。 Sterling； in contrast； was mild…mannered and soft of voice。 And yet there was something almost false about his humility。 He wore his hair long； with uneven bangs that kept falling in front of his aviator glasses。 It was unusual to meet a pilot with impaired vision； and Rick reasoned that Sterling's talents had to outweigh the disadvantages presented by less…than…perfect eyesight。
Rick acknowledged their salutes； and Roy made the informal introductions。 But after a few minutes of pleasantries； Rick was beginning to feel unfortable with his two new dependents and took advantage of a lapse in the conversation to excuse himself。 Minmei's party would be kicking off soon； and he wanted to catch her alone for at least a few minutes。 However； when Ben and Max suddenly expressed an interest in acpanying him； Rick reconsidered his options： Showing up at Minmei's with new lieutenant's bars and two subordinates in tow would surely gain him some points。 At least it would show her that his superiors viewed him as responsible and serious； even if she chose not to。
So the three of them left Fokker's together； already exchanging… stories and searching out mon ground。 They tubed into Macross City； hitting a few spots on the way； and it wasn't long before they were fast friends。
Macross was a different experience each time Rick visited it。 Resident old…timers…people born back in the 'forties and 'fifties…claimed that it would have taken generations to construct what Robotech engineers and crews managed in a week。 All of this was due to technological advances brought about with the arrival of the SDF…1。 Some of the city had been 〃created〃 through the use of Enhanced Video Emulation…the people were fed illusions as in some turn…of…the century film…but most of it was a real； pulsing metropolis now。 Certainly no city on Earth could boast of a park with views to match those from Macross Central。 You were not just staring up at the stars from the benches there； you were among them。
The three VT pilots were a few blocks from the White Dragon； when several 〃death…beds〃 rumbled by…huge flatbed vehicles carting off the battle…damaged remains of Veritech fighters to recycling。 Without raw material； the SDF…1 techs had to reuse everything。
Rick looked over at his new rades and studied their reaction to the passing wrecks。 His jubilant mood had vanished。 Fighter pilots were similarly recycled； he told himself。
〃There's the whole truth about war；〃 Rick said； gesturing to the death…beds。
〃I don't want to end up like that；〃 said Max。
Ben bellowed his laugh。 〃While I'm around you've got nothing to worry about。〃
Lieutenant Rick had an impromptu speech on the tip of his tongue； but he decided to let Dixon's remark slide。 Ben would find out for himself soon enough。
The war machine would chew them up and spit them out。 You could only give it your best shot and hope the odds were in your favor。
〃Luck〃 was a term the Zentraedi were unfamiliar with； their language contained no words for it； and their psychological makeup embraced no such concept。
Khyron had suffered a setback。 It had nothing to do with chance or odds。 He had failed because he had listened to Breetai and disregarded his own instincts。 This would not happen again。 This enemy was unpredictable。 Where it would be advantageous to press an attack； they would retreat； where it would have been wise to use the massive firepower of Zor's ship； they instead relied on small fighters。 And the worst of it was that they seemed to value life above all else。 Sooner or later Khyron would have to play on that fear of death they carried around。
He had appointed a new second…in…mand to replace Gerao； who was now in solitary confinement for having failed to detect the Micronians' countermeasures at the abandoned base。 The blank faceplated visage of this second was currently on the monitor screen in Kyron's quarters。
〃But； my lord；〃 the second was saying； 〃what about mander Breetai's reaction to our continued attacks？ He has made it clear…〃
〃Forget about him！ Do you dare question my authority？〃
〃My lord！〃 The second saluted。
〃We'll deal with that ship in our own way。 Now pay close attention： Breetai has prescribed war games for us。 This is his way of humiliating me for our failures。 But we're going to turn this opportunity to our advantage。 We're going to take that s