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n。
In a neat； quiet suburb of the city served by an overhead rapid…transit system sat a modest little prefab cottage； its solar panels； guided by microprocessors； swinging slowly to follow the sun。 As a senior flight officer； Rick Hunter rated off base housing even though he was single； and liked the idea of getting away from the military when he could； even if his home looked like modular luggage。 As Skull Leader； he seldom got a chance to be there。
So Lisa Hayes took it upon herself to tidy up the place when he was away。 Her own rather more spacious quarters were nearby。
Neither of them was quite sure what the bond between them meant or where their panionship was going； but she had a key to his place； and he to hers。
Now she hummed happily to herself as she put away the last of the just…washed dishes。 Maybe I ought to bill him for maid services； she thought wryly。
But she knew better； she enjoyed being in his place； touching the things he touched； seeing reminders of him all around。 She hoped that the extended patrol up north didn't last too much longer…that he would be home soon so that they could be together again。
Lisa considered the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window。 Polarizing glass was all well and good； but curtains were what that window needed。
Will you listen to me？ Curtains！ Miss Suzy Homemaker！ She smirked at the apron she was wearing。 It was doubly funny because she was due back at the base soon for more meetings and briefings on the final construction details of the SDF…2； the new successor to the battle fortress。
And she meant to have a berth on that ship； to be the First Officer if she could； and go to the stars。 Ol' Suzy Homemaker herself。
She snorted a laugh as she moved into the bedroom。 Seeing it； she sighed。 Why does this place always look like a bear's been wintering here？
She raised all the blinds； opened all the windows； and moved around the room slowly； fondly。 When she smoothed the sheets to make up the bed； her hands lingered upon them； and she touched the pillows tenderly； remembering his head on them； and her own。
Her wrist chrono toned； reminding her she had to go soon。 When she straightened； her eye fell on something she hadn't seen before。
It lay on his desk； next to his spare flight helmet： a photo album bound in creamy imitation leather。 Lisa moved toward it unwillingly； knowing she shouldn't do what she was about to do but unable to stop herself。
The album was well worn； had obviously been leafed through many times。 The first page made her heart sink； There was a snapshot of Minmei seated on a park swing back in the Macross within the SDF…1； Rick standing behind her。 The other picture was a close…up taken of Minmei back at the start of her career； a wide…eyed gamine with flowing black locks framing her face。
Lisa sighed again。 What does he see in her？ What's she got except great looks； the singing voice that won the war； and superstardom？
It was Minmei on every page； glamour poses and home snapshots； portfolio glossies and PR photos。 Lisa got angrier and angrier as she thumbed through them。
Why do I have the impulse to strangle this girl？
Along with the anger came a pain so sharp and cold； it took her off guard。 Lisa had assumed she and Rick were solidifying something； strengthening the ties between them。 But the thought of his keeping this album； taking it out when Lisa wasn't there and fantasizing over it…that was too much to bear。
Having his panionship and friendship without his declared love was something she had accepted； albeit always with a secret hope。 But the photo album made her feel she had been taken for granted； a kind of emotional consolation prize。 Her self…respect simply wouldn't allow that。
Lisa slammed the album shut； tore off the apron； and strode for the front door。 As the door rolled shut to lock； she tossed Rick's spare house key onto the living…room rug； leaving it behind。
CHAPTER TWENTY…THREE
We won？ When you hear some military moron say that to you； spit on him！ Point out the graveyard that is Earth！ When he tells you how the military's going to make all that well again too； hold up the ash that used to be your home。
They won； all right； and they'd just love to win again。 And every time； it's you and I who lose。
From Lynn…Kyle's tract； Mark of Cain
Rick Hunter sat in the cockpit of the grounded Guardian and watched white spores take to the wind like miniature parasols。 Meanwhile； he wrestled with his thoughts。
The truth was that Earth was a dead end for a pilot。 Oh； there was the problem of the rebellious Zentraedi； to be sure； and the various fractious human munities。 But the war was over； and there were no flying circuses。 Maybe it would be easier to put up with the growing boredom of peacetime life if bigger things weren't brewing out beyond Earth's atmosphere。
Breetai and Exedore seemed to be at the source of it； and Gloval； Dr。 Lang； and Dr。 Zand。 Only everything was so secret that a mere squadron mander couldn't find out a thing。 Even Lisa professed not to know anything。 But scuttlebutt and the few hints Rick could get from his intel debriefings made him believe that the SDF…2 was slated for a big； big mission。
He was pretty sure that the SDF…2； and such Zentraedi warships as Breetai could get fully functional again； were going to carry the war to the Robotech Masters。 Humans and Zentraedi would go out and end the threat forever or die trying。
How could he not go？ Only。。。that was a voyage and a military operation that might make their previous campaign look like a weekend vacation by parison。 It would probably mean he would never see Earth and Minmei again。
Not that he'd seen much of Minmei in the last two years； but signing on for a trip to far…off star systems would strip away any hope。
But what else was there for him except flying？ He wished and prayed that there could be Minmei； but Minmei was so bound up in her glittering career that he rarely saw or heard from her。 On the SDF…2 mission； at least he would be with Lisa； and he was being more and more convinced that that was where he belonged。
Of course； the odds against surviving would be very high； but