Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Crossover With Non-anime Series Fan Fiction ❯ Soldier, Sailor, Jedi, Sith ❯ Chapter 10 ( Chapter 11 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Maj_Scooter 
Anime/Manga: Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Crossover With Non-anime Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.24.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.2K | Visits: 453 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Crossover With Non-anime Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.24.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.2K | Visits: 453 | Status: Completed
Obligatory AN: I'm stealing from all over, to fit into specific roles, and not planning on major additional crossovers. Well, except for throwing the Airbats into combat. And maybe borrowing Kei Nagase again.
JOHNSON SPACE CENTER
Houston, TX
Roy Fokker sat in one of Johnson Space Center's largest auditoriums. Pilots from all over the US and from various Allied nations were there as well, watching and waiting. A pair of Air Force pilots were talking; one pilot sporting a patch for the High Technology Aircraft and Weapons Testing Center at Elliott AFB, the other had a 542nd Fighter Squadron patch on his shoulder. Roy chuckled at a German pilot, a long white silk scarf around his neck, like he was the Red Baron or something, talking with an RAF officer from 617 Squadron.
A figure wearing the burgundy single-breasted uniform of the Republic walked on to the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "please take your seats, and we'll begin momentarily." There were murmurings as the pilots found their seats and complied with the Lieutenant's request. A large projection screen lowered from the ceiling, and the house lights dimmed.
The screen lit up, showing the battle of Coruscant between Republic and Separatist forces, highlighted specifically on the ARC-170's capabilities. The movie transitioned seamlessly into Incom's pitch for the T-65 X-wing, which was followed by Seinar Fleet System's pitch for the TIE fighter. The assembled pilots "Ooh'd" and "Aah'd" at what the fighters were capable of, even if they couldn't read the text.
The lights came up, and a six foot tall female panther standing on the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, good morrrning. I am Wing Commanderrr M'Rrret, aerrrospace grrroup commanderrr forrr the Rrrepublic. And I will be yourrr seniorrr instrrructorrr in the ARrrC-170 and T-16 Skyhopperrr..."
Roy returned to his room at the Holiday Inn down the road from the Space Center, and flopped onto his bed. He was lucky. As a senior officer, he was entitled to quarters by himself; most of the rooms had three or four junior officers in them. And it was like that at several hotels surrounding the NASA headquarters and training facility. Six hotels alone were occupied by American flight crews; the rest housed NATO and allied nations' crews.
The Jolly Rogers' skipper looked at the books he'd dropped on his desk. "Tomcat school wasn't as intense as this." The books covered everything from zero-g operations to troubleshooting a problem with the astromech. They'd have time to learn how to fly the fighters they'd be assigned. The Tomcat, Strike Eagle, Tornado, and Phantom crews were used to working with a weapons systems officer. Now they had to work with a tail gunner and a droid. At least the tail gunner could keep the bad guys off of them during combat.
00000
EMBASSY OF THE GALACTIC REPUBLIC
UNITED NATIONS BLDG
New York City, NY
"General Lim," Agent Jones said, as the UN-appointed bodyguard walked into the Jedi's office in the United Nations building. "The Security Counsel is requesting your presence."
Ranma set down the data pad he was reading. "Very well then, I'll be right down." The Jedi stood, and walked out to the elevators. The commercial-grade Muzak that was piped into the UN's elevators was a challenge in and of itself to try to ignore. Thank the Force that Palpatine never thought of Muzak in the lifts on Coruscant. I'm sure many a Senator would have voted him Emperor just to rid them of the blighted thing. With the doors of the elevator opening on the right floor, Ranma walked out and headed to the Security Council chambers.
The Jedi Master entered, and noted that only ambassadors from the five permanent members of the Council sat there, along with a small number of ambassadors from US allies, and the General Secretaries of both NATO and the EU. "As I have been summoned," Ranma said with all modesty, "I have come."
Ambassador Beauregard, the US Ambassador to the UN, looked at the Japanese Jedi Master, standing humbly before them. "General Lim," the urbane gentleman from Louisiana drawled, "after consultation with my esteemed colleagues, we formally request that you take command of the Earth Defense Forces."
"Ambassador Beauregard, I am, to say the very least, humbled by your request. May I ask why I was nominated for such an honor?"
Ambassador Lee, from the Chinese delegation answered. "General, we discussed this while we brokered our unification under the United Nations banner. None of our flag officers have ever dealt with a three dimensional threat like this before, and are too hide-bound in their national interests to work with people they once considered enemies.
"We feel that someone without an established allegiance to any particular nation would be an ideal commander for the Earth Defense Force, and deal appropriately with integrating our forces with the Republican crews."
"And Admiral Gerrod has been enlightening us about your career in the Grand Army of the Republic. You sir," Ambassador Beauregard said, "have the tactical and technical skills to protect this system from the Empire."
"Then I shall trust in the Force to uphold and defend the ideals of this world that I have come to love. With your permission, gentlemen, ladies?" With a nod from the ranking ambassador, Ranma bowed, spun on his heel and walked out of the Security Council chambers.
Ranma walked through the doors of the Ambassadorial quarters, nodding to the two pairs of guards—a pair of US Marines, and a pair of troopers from the Republic—as well as two gentlemen in black suits. He smiled at the sight of his green-haired wife feeding their son, Tarquin. Siobhan was sleeping in the bassinet across from Setsuna. "So, how was your day, anata," Setsuna asked, as she put their son in the bassinet with their daughter.
"It was interesting," Ranma replied, as he walked over to the French doors leading out to the patio of the penthouse. He looked out, at the skyline of Manhattan, out past the hole in lower Manhattan where the World Trade Center had once stood. The penthouse was located on the Trump Tower, and had been donated to the Republic as ambassadorial quarters by the billionaire real estate magnate.
"How so?" Ever since she'd become a full time mom, the Senshi of Time had yet to visit the Gates, so it was an honest question for her to ask.
"I've been asked to take charge of the Defense Force," he said plainly. "Even the Force didn't warn me about this."
"As you've told me many times during our training, both on Coruscant and here, that the Force is still mysterious. Even for a Jedi Master." She'd taken the lack of a child in her arms to walk over to her husband, and wrap her arms around him. The steps she was standing on allowed her to rest her head on Ranma's shoulder.
"I know, Suna-chan," he said, watching the twinkling lights of the Big Apple below them.
"I'm going to the Moon later this week," he said, after a few moments of quiet reflection.
"Oh? How come?" Setsuna replied, her curiosity piqued.
"Gerrod needs to see where we're going to be keeping the fleet."
"A word of warning then, beloved. Harry's become a bit...eccentric since he's come back online, and began repairing the Palace and airdocks."
"How so?"
"You'll find out when you get there," Setsuna replied, mysteriously.
00000
The Lambda-class shuttle Enterprise accelerated up through Earth's atmosphere, into space, and continued to accelerate as the pilot caught up to the rebel Imperator in orbit. "Republic Approach, this is Enterprise, requesting permission to dock."
"Enterprise, Republic; cleared to dock, main hangar bay."
"Affirmative, Republic. Advise Republic Actual that the Ambassador is onboard, and requests his presence."
"Enterprise, uh...roger; will advise Republic Actual. Republic out."
The shuttle closed on the mile-long white dagger, orbiting placidly over the South Pacific, orienting itself so the hangar bay of the Imperator was "above" the dorsal fin of the shuttle. "Enterprise, Republic; call the ball."
"Lambda ball," the pilot replied, as his eyes caught the visual landing aids. "Retract wings, deploy landing gear." The outer wings of the shuttle rose from the 120 degree deployed position to vertical, as the shuttle neared the hangar. The landing legs deployed as the shuttle was meters from the atmospheric containment barrier.
With a subtle groan, the shuttle settled on to its main gear. Admiral Gerrod stood just inside the foul line, as the nose mounted ramp lowered. Ranma walked down, his Jedi robes whispering against the non-skid material of the personnel ramp. "General," the former Republic Navy admiral said cordially, "welcome aboard the Republic."
"Thank you, Gerrod," Ranma replied, just as cordially. "I'd like you to accompany me to the lunar airdocks, and the fleet's new home port."
On the bridge of the Imperator, Ranma stood near the viewports, looking out over the dorsal hull and keel of the mile-long warship. "A very impressive vessel, Admiral," Ranma said. "Makes the Victories and Aggravators we had during the Clone Wars look like they were one step from the being broken up for scrap."
"That it does, General," Gerrod replied.
"Set course for Luna. Are the navigational computers compatible with the Terran coordinate system?"
"Coordinates are coordinates, General," the crusty Admiral replied. "The computers'll crunch on them, and get us to where we need to go."
Ranma smiled. "Then take us out of orbit, Admiral." Commands were relayed to the crew pit, and the three massive sublight engines fired. The bow of the Republic came about, and pointed straight at Earth's companion, her fighters continuing their close CAP of the warship like mosquitoes around a water buffalo.
In significantly less time than it took the Apollo missions to traverse the 385 thousand kilometers to the Moon, the Republic entered equatorial orbit around the pockmarked satellite. "Admiral," Ranma said, "I have the bridge."
Gerrod nodded. "You have the bridge, General. Especially since you know where we're going."
The Jedi Master strode into the middle of the bridge over the crew pit. "Helm, bring us to 43 degrees south by 11 degrees west. You'll be over the central massif of Tycho Crater."
Lt. Merrick punched in the coordinates. "Altitude, General?"
"19 kilometers," Ranma replied. "Make sure thrusters hold station. You'll have further instructions at that altitude. Communications?" The ship began moving again, slower this time, descending and rotating so that the Moon's surface was relative to the deck plates of the bridge.
"Aye, General?"
"Is your equipment capable of lightspeed burst communications?"
"Aye, sir; laser, lightspeed radio, signal lamp, semaphore."
"Very good," Ranma replied, as he walked over towards the communications console. He keyed in a cryptic sequence. "When we reach altitude, transmit this message by secure laser. You'll be expecting a response from someone named ‘Harry'. And have Fighter Ops recall the CAP."
"Aye sir."
"19 kilometers, General," Lt. Merrick reported.
"Bring us over the secondary massif, Mr. Merrick, same altitude. It's at bearing 316 degrees, five thousand meters. Communications: transmit message."
The ship shifted slightly, moving just over three ship lengths over the secondary massif. "General, I'm getting a reply," Chief Solon reported from his console.
"Greetings, General Lim," a voice announced over the bridge's speakers. "Just a few moments while I realign the AE-35 unit."
"Hello Harry," Ranma replied. "You know there, is no AE-35 unit on the Moon."
"You are correct, General. There hasn't been a living soul here in over 30 thousand years. It gets boring after about the first 20 minutes after planetary communications have shut down. I've been busy scanning terrestrial broadcasts to keep myself occupied. Airdock doors opening. Prepare for docking sequence. The operating system of your vessel is incompatible with my software. Manual docking will be required." The massif below the ship slid to the side effortlessly, as though it were the day it had been installed.
"Take us in, Mr. Merrick," Ranma ordered.
The ship began moving again, and sweat began rolling off the helmsman as he began maneuvering the massive warship through the perfectly circular and smooth tube. "Maglev system currently offline, General," Harry reported, as the ship plunged into the depths of the Moon. "It should be up in three or four days. Atmospheric containment shields at full power, life support at full power. You are five minutes from the central facility."
"How come the maglev is down," Gerrod asked. "And why the vague reply?"
"Corruption in that location of my central core, Admiral. I'm in the process of rebuilding the data, based on original specifications in my archives. As for the vague answer, Serenity never did like it when I replied with exact timelines."
The ship plunged through a magnetic containment field. "Admiral, I'm reading standard atmospheric pressure and content around the ship," an engineer reported. "We are inside the airdocks."
"Bring us to Slip 1," Ranma said. "Harry, standby for docking support for Slip 1—tractor beams and catwalks only." The ship slid into the docking area, and tractor beams caught the dagger-shaped hull. Floodlights in the vicinity of the dock lit up, bathing the warship in artificial light for the first time since she was commissioned.
"Vessel is docked, General. You may secure propulsion. Catwalks extending."
"Engines disengaged," Lt. Merrick stated. "Catwalks in place at all airlocks."
Turning to Admiral Gerrod, Ranma gave the Rebel commander a broad smile. "Welcome to your new home port, Gerrod."
"Thank you, General. As soon as we leave, we'll transmit coordinates and access codes on a secure frequency to the rest of the fleet. Harry," Gerrod asked, "how can we make your operating system compatible with ours?"
"I would need access to your computer system, and make adjustments to my own, based on the results. I can also embed into your IFF systems a tracer that would allow only Earth Defense Force ships access to this facility, and unauthorized vessels would be targeted for capture or destruction. As a precaution for such a thing, ‘Mad Queen' Serenity the Third saw to it that the crater mounted heavy particle cannons along the interior of the rim, as well as lighter particle and laser cannons as well as torpedo launchers along the central massif. I can have those systems online by the end of the week."
"And the civilian ships in the fleet, Gerrod," Ranma asked.
"Those vessels are based on a similar operating system, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. And I like the idea of embedding an IFF tag in our ships. Especially since the Imperial fleet has identical ships."
"Then I shall make it so," Harry said. "For now, Admiral, the facilities of the Palace are at your crew's disposal. I would find it a most stimulating experience for your crew to enjoy shore leave."
"General, with your permission," Gerrod asked.
"It's your ship, Admiral, and, right now, your recreation center. All I ask is that my shuttle be prepared for departure."
"Of course, General."
00000
THE PENTAGON
Arlington, VA
In a large, dark, smoke-filled conference room in the Pentagon, headquarters of the American Department of Defense, a veritable galaxy of braids and stars, in the form of generals and admirals from the superpowers and allies, sat around conference table, watching the same videos that the fighter crews in Houston. "While these fighters are impressive, we need to develop our own domestically produced ships," the chairman of the American Joint Chiefs stated as the lights came up.
"Our scientific knowledge has just been expanded ten-fold with the technical readouts we've been getting from General Gerrod," a civilian wearing a Savile Row suit said. "The use of fusion as an aviation powerplant has revolutionary potential for both military and civilian aerospace research. As well as "
"And it could be the silver bullet we've been looking for to lessen our planet's dependence on oil," another civilian, wearing a suit not from Savile Row, added.
"There are some innovative designs that were developed just prior and during World War Two," a Royal Air Force general stated. "Lockheed's L-133 was futuristic thinking for the late 1930's. And I believe Gloster, Supermarine and De Havilland were all working on some equally futuristic designs"
"Ja," replied his Bundesluft counterpart. "Perhaps Panavia should consider some of the designs Messerschmitt, Heinkel and Junkers had on their drawing boards, or even went into limited production."
"Frankly," an American Admiral said, "I'd like to get my hands on a fleet of those ‘X-wing' fighters for my carriers. We wouldn't need catapults or arresting gear any more with that hover capability. Hell, I could even base them on the Tarawas and give the Marines some real air support, instead of relying on Harriers and SeaCobras."
"Some of these systems would be perfect for tanks and IFVs," an Army general added. "With those anti-gravity systems, terrain as a defense would become a thing of the past. No more vulnerable landing craft or transport weighed down by a single tank, they could self-deploy to the combat zone..." The meeting quickly degenerated into the generals and admirals developing their particular wish lists, like children putting together their Christmas lists for Santa.
JOHNSON SPACE CENTER
Houston, TX
Roy Fokker sat in one of Johnson Space Center's largest auditoriums. Pilots from all over the US and from various Allied nations were there as well, watching and waiting. A pair of Air Force pilots were talking; one pilot sporting a patch for the High Technology Aircraft and Weapons Testing Center at Elliott AFB, the other had a 542nd Fighter Squadron patch on his shoulder. Roy chuckled at a German pilot, a long white silk scarf around his neck, like he was the Red Baron or something, talking with an RAF officer from 617 Squadron.
A figure wearing the burgundy single-breasted uniform of the Republic walked on to the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "please take your seats, and we'll begin momentarily." There were murmurings as the pilots found their seats and complied with the Lieutenant's request. A large projection screen lowered from the ceiling, and the house lights dimmed.
The screen lit up, showing the battle of Coruscant between Republic and Separatist forces, highlighted specifically on the ARC-170's capabilities. The movie transitioned seamlessly into Incom's pitch for the T-65 X-wing, which was followed by Seinar Fleet System's pitch for the TIE fighter. The assembled pilots "Ooh'd" and "Aah'd" at what the fighters were capable of, even if they couldn't read the text.
The lights came up, and a six foot tall female panther standing on the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, good morrrning. I am Wing Commanderrr M'Rrret, aerrrospace grrroup commanderrr forrr the Rrrepublic. And I will be yourrr seniorrr instrrructorrr in the ARrrC-170 and T-16 Skyhopperrr..."
Roy returned to his room at the Holiday Inn down the road from the Space Center, and flopped onto his bed. He was lucky. As a senior officer, he was entitled to quarters by himself; most of the rooms had three or four junior officers in them. And it was like that at several hotels surrounding the NASA headquarters and training facility. Six hotels alone were occupied by American flight crews; the rest housed NATO and allied nations' crews.
The Jolly Rogers' skipper looked at the books he'd dropped on his desk. "Tomcat school wasn't as intense as this." The books covered everything from zero-g operations to troubleshooting a problem with the astromech. They'd have time to learn how to fly the fighters they'd be assigned. The Tomcat, Strike Eagle, Tornado, and Phantom crews were used to working with a weapons systems officer. Now they had to work with a tail gunner and a droid. At least the tail gunner could keep the bad guys off of them during combat.
00000
EMBASSY OF THE GALACTIC REPUBLIC
UNITED NATIONS BLDG
New York City, NY
"General Lim," Agent Jones said, as the UN-appointed bodyguard walked into the Jedi's office in the United Nations building. "The Security Counsel is requesting your presence."
Ranma set down the data pad he was reading. "Very well then, I'll be right down." The Jedi stood, and walked out to the elevators. The commercial-grade Muzak that was piped into the UN's elevators was a challenge in and of itself to try to ignore. Thank the Force that Palpatine never thought of Muzak in the lifts on Coruscant. I'm sure many a Senator would have voted him Emperor just to rid them of the blighted thing. With the doors of the elevator opening on the right floor, Ranma walked out and headed to the Security Council chambers.
The Jedi Master entered, and noted that only ambassadors from the five permanent members of the Council sat there, along with a small number of ambassadors from US allies, and the General Secretaries of both NATO and the EU. "As I have been summoned," Ranma said with all modesty, "I have come."
Ambassador Beauregard, the US Ambassador to the UN, looked at the Japanese Jedi Master, standing humbly before them. "General Lim," the urbane gentleman from Louisiana drawled, "after consultation with my esteemed colleagues, we formally request that you take command of the Earth Defense Forces."
"Ambassador Beauregard, I am, to say the very least, humbled by your request. May I ask why I was nominated for such an honor?"
Ambassador Lee, from the Chinese delegation answered. "General, we discussed this while we brokered our unification under the United Nations banner. None of our flag officers have ever dealt with a three dimensional threat like this before, and are too hide-bound in their national interests to work with people they once considered enemies.
"We feel that someone without an established allegiance to any particular nation would be an ideal commander for the Earth Defense Force, and deal appropriately with integrating our forces with the Republican crews."
"And Admiral Gerrod has been enlightening us about your career in the Grand Army of the Republic. You sir," Ambassador Beauregard said, "have the tactical and technical skills to protect this system from the Empire."
"Then I shall trust in the Force to uphold and defend the ideals of this world that I have come to love. With your permission, gentlemen, ladies?" With a nod from the ranking ambassador, Ranma bowed, spun on his heel and walked out of the Security Council chambers.
Ranma walked through the doors of the Ambassadorial quarters, nodding to the two pairs of guards—a pair of US Marines, and a pair of troopers from the Republic—as well as two gentlemen in black suits. He smiled at the sight of his green-haired wife feeding their son, Tarquin. Siobhan was sleeping in the bassinet across from Setsuna. "So, how was your day, anata," Setsuna asked, as she put their son in the bassinet with their daughter.
"It was interesting," Ranma replied, as he walked over to the French doors leading out to the patio of the penthouse. He looked out, at the skyline of Manhattan, out past the hole in lower Manhattan where the World Trade Center had once stood. The penthouse was located on the Trump Tower, and had been donated to the Republic as ambassadorial quarters by the billionaire real estate magnate.
"How so?" Ever since she'd become a full time mom, the Senshi of Time had yet to visit the Gates, so it was an honest question for her to ask.
"I've been asked to take charge of the Defense Force," he said plainly. "Even the Force didn't warn me about this."
"As you've told me many times during our training, both on Coruscant and here, that the Force is still mysterious. Even for a Jedi Master." She'd taken the lack of a child in her arms to walk over to her husband, and wrap her arms around him. The steps she was standing on allowed her to rest her head on Ranma's shoulder.
"I know, Suna-chan," he said, watching the twinkling lights of the Big Apple below them.
"I'm going to the Moon later this week," he said, after a few moments of quiet reflection.
"Oh? How come?" Setsuna replied, her curiosity piqued.
"Gerrod needs to see where we're going to be keeping the fleet."
"A word of warning then, beloved. Harry's become a bit...eccentric since he's come back online, and began repairing the Palace and airdocks."
"How so?"
"You'll find out when you get there," Setsuna replied, mysteriously.
00000
The Lambda-class shuttle Enterprise accelerated up through Earth's atmosphere, into space, and continued to accelerate as the pilot caught up to the rebel Imperator in orbit. "Republic Approach, this is Enterprise, requesting permission to dock."
"Enterprise, Republic; cleared to dock, main hangar bay."
"Affirmative, Republic. Advise Republic Actual that the Ambassador is onboard, and requests his presence."
"Enterprise, uh...roger; will advise Republic Actual. Republic out."
The shuttle closed on the mile-long white dagger, orbiting placidly over the South Pacific, orienting itself so the hangar bay of the Imperator was "above" the dorsal fin of the shuttle. "Enterprise, Republic; call the ball."
"Lambda ball," the pilot replied, as his eyes caught the visual landing aids. "Retract wings, deploy landing gear." The outer wings of the shuttle rose from the 120 degree deployed position to vertical, as the shuttle neared the hangar. The landing legs deployed as the shuttle was meters from the atmospheric containment barrier.
With a subtle groan, the shuttle settled on to its main gear. Admiral Gerrod stood just inside the foul line, as the nose mounted ramp lowered. Ranma walked down, his Jedi robes whispering against the non-skid material of the personnel ramp. "General," the former Republic Navy admiral said cordially, "welcome aboard the Republic."
"Thank you, Gerrod," Ranma replied, just as cordially. "I'd like you to accompany me to the lunar airdocks, and the fleet's new home port."
On the bridge of the Imperator, Ranma stood near the viewports, looking out over the dorsal hull and keel of the mile-long warship. "A very impressive vessel, Admiral," Ranma said. "Makes the Victories and Aggravators we had during the Clone Wars look like they were one step from the being broken up for scrap."
"That it does, General," Gerrod replied.
"Set course for Luna. Are the navigational computers compatible with the Terran coordinate system?"
"Coordinates are coordinates, General," the crusty Admiral replied. "The computers'll crunch on them, and get us to where we need to go."
Ranma smiled. "Then take us out of orbit, Admiral." Commands were relayed to the crew pit, and the three massive sublight engines fired. The bow of the Republic came about, and pointed straight at Earth's companion, her fighters continuing their close CAP of the warship like mosquitoes around a water buffalo.
In significantly less time than it took the Apollo missions to traverse the 385 thousand kilometers to the Moon, the Republic entered equatorial orbit around the pockmarked satellite. "Admiral," Ranma said, "I have the bridge."
Gerrod nodded. "You have the bridge, General. Especially since you know where we're going."
The Jedi Master strode into the middle of the bridge over the crew pit. "Helm, bring us to 43 degrees south by 11 degrees west. You'll be over the central massif of Tycho Crater."
Lt. Merrick punched in the coordinates. "Altitude, General?"
"19 kilometers," Ranma replied. "Make sure thrusters hold station. You'll have further instructions at that altitude. Communications?" The ship began moving again, slower this time, descending and rotating so that the Moon's surface was relative to the deck plates of the bridge.
"Aye, General?"
"Is your equipment capable of lightspeed burst communications?"
"Aye, sir; laser, lightspeed radio, signal lamp, semaphore."
"Very good," Ranma replied, as he walked over towards the communications console. He keyed in a cryptic sequence. "When we reach altitude, transmit this message by secure laser. You'll be expecting a response from someone named ‘Harry'. And have Fighter Ops recall the CAP."
"Aye sir."
"19 kilometers, General," Lt. Merrick reported.
"Bring us over the secondary massif, Mr. Merrick, same altitude. It's at bearing 316 degrees, five thousand meters. Communications: transmit message."
The ship shifted slightly, moving just over three ship lengths over the secondary massif. "General, I'm getting a reply," Chief Solon reported from his console.
"Greetings, General Lim," a voice announced over the bridge's speakers. "Just a few moments while I realign the AE-35 unit."
"Hello Harry," Ranma replied. "You know there, is no AE-35 unit on the Moon."
"You are correct, General. There hasn't been a living soul here in over 30 thousand years. It gets boring after about the first 20 minutes after planetary communications have shut down. I've been busy scanning terrestrial broadcasts to keep myself occupied. Airdock doors opening. Prepare for docking sequence. The operating system of your vessel is incompatible with my software. Manual docking will be required." The massif below the ship slid to the side effortlessly, as though it were the day it had been installed.
"Take us in, Mr. Merrick," Ranma ordered.
The ship began moving again, and sweat began rolling off the helmsman as he began maneuvering the massive warship through the perfectly circular and smooth tube. "Maglev system currently offline, General," Harry reported, as the ship plunged into the depths of the Moon. "It should be up in three or four days. Atmospheric containment shields at full power, life support at full power. You are five minutes from the central facility."
"How come the maglev is down," Gerrod asked. "And why the vague reply?"
"Corruption in that location of my central core, Admiral. I'm in the process of rebuilding the data, based on original specifications in my archives. As for the vague answer, Serenity never did like it when I replied with exact timelines."
The ship plunged through a magnetic containment field. "Admiral, I'm reading standard atmospheric pressure and content around the ship," an engineer reported. "We are inside the airdocks."
"Bring us to Slip 1," Ranma said. "Harry, standby for docking support for Slip 1—tractor beams and catwalks only." The ship slid into the docking area, and tractor beams caught the dagger-shaped hull. Floodlights in the vicinity of the dock lit up, bathing the warship in artificial light for the first time since she was commissioned.
"Vessel is docked, General. You may secure propulsion. Catwalks extending."
"Engines disengaged," Lt. Merrick stated. "Catwalks in place at all airlocks."
Turning to Admiral Gerrod, Ranma gave the Rebel commander a broad smile. "Welcome to your new home port, Gerrod."
"Thank you, General. As soon as we leave, we'll transmit coordinates and access codes on a secure frequency to the rest of the fleet. Harry," Gerrod asked, "how can we make your operating system compatible with ours?"
"I would need access to your computer system, and make adjustments to my own, based on the results. I can also embed into your IFF systems a tracer that would allow only Earth Defense Force ships access to this facility, and unauthorized vessels would be targeted for capture or destruction. As a precaution for such a thing, ‘Mad Queen' Serenity the Third saw to it that the crater mounted heavy particle cannons along the interior of the rim, as well as lighter particle and laser cannons as well as torpedo launchers along the central massif. I can have those systems online by the end of the week."
"And the civilian ships in the fleet, Gerrod," Ranma asked.
"Those vessels are based on a similar operating system, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. And I like the idea of embedding an IFF tag in our ships. Especially since the Imperial fleet has identical ships."
"Then I shall make it so," Harry said. "For now, Admiral, the facilities of the Palace are at your crew's disposal. I would find it a most stimulating experience for your crew to enjoy shore leave."
"General, with your permission," Gerrod asked.
"It's your ship, Admiral, and, right now, your recreation center. All I ask is that my shuttle be prepared for departure."
"Of course, General."
00000
THE PENTAGON
Arlington, VA
In a large, dark, smoke-filled conference room in the Pentagon, headquarters of the American Department of Defense, a veritable galaxy of braids and stars, in the form of generals and admirals from the superpowers and allies, sat around conference table, watching the same videos that the fighter crews in Houston. "While these fighters are impressive, we need to develop our own domestically produced ships," the chairman of the American Joint Chiefs stated as the lights came up.
"Our scientific knowledge has just been expanded ten-fold with the technical readouts we've been getting from General Gerrod," a civilian wearing a Savile Row suit said. "The use of fusion as an aviation powerplant has revolutionary potential for both military and civilian aerospace research. As well as "
"And it could be the silver bullet we've been looking for to lessen our planet's dependence on oil," another civilian, wearing a suit not from Savile Row, added.
"There are some innovative designs that were developed just prior and during World War Two," a Royal Air Force general stated. "Lockheed's L-133 was futuristic thinking for the late 1930's. And I believe Gloster, Supermarine and De Havilland were all working on some equally futuristic designs"
"Ja," replied his Bundesluft counterpart. "Perhaps Panavia should consider some of the designs Messerschmitt, Heinkel and Junkers had on their drawing boards, or even went into limited production."
"Frankly," an American Admiral said, "I'd like to get my hands on a fleet of those ‘X-wing' fighters for my carriers. We wouldn't need catapults or arresting gear any more with that hover capability. Hell, I could even base them on the Tarawas and give the Marines some real air support, instead of relying on Harriers and SeaCobras."
"Some of these systems would be perfect for tanks and IFVs," an Army general added. "With those anti-gravity systems, terrain as a defense would become a thing of the past. No more vulnerable landing craft or transport weighed down by a single tank, they could self-deploy to the combat zone..." The meeting quickly degenerated into the generals and admirals developing their particular wish lists, like children putting together their Christmas lists for Santa.