Chapter 1: A Bad Day.

	All in all, Nick had had a pretty bad day so far. It had started with a horribly rude awakening by 
a group of Pincer Ships and Shock Troopers descending on the group's camp, and gunning most of 
their mecha, and most of them, down before half of the group were awake. Since his Logan was small 
and hidden in the woods, and he'd always been a good runner, Nick had managed to get it airborne. 
Only to get shot down, before taking down even one of the little creeps. However, he was the lucky 
one. He'd survived. He'd limped a good distance (Shrapnel in the leg. Not pretty) under the blazing sun, 
until he'd reached a hitherto unknown (at least, to him) emplacement bearing the ASC logo. Just when 
he thought he was home safe, an unknown assailant in REP armour had dropped him to the ground 
with a swift kick, and he was now staring down the barrel of an LP Nightstalker. Not a good day.
	Through the blaze of heat and his pain-fogged mind he heard the REP soldier demand some 
ID. Surprisingly enough, the voice was female. He'd always thought that the REP was just a club for 
egotistical crazies, and had never even imagined that it would employ women. Then again, he'd never 
imagined that the GMP would either, until one of them locked him up for the night. The soldier yelled at 
him again; "Show me some ID or I'll blow your freaking head off!"
	"Hey, hey, take it easy! I'm human too, you know!" No response. The LP Nightstalker was 
distressingly real. "Alright, I'm sergeant Nicholas West of the TASC! My Logan was destroyed by Invid, 
I'm badly injured, I'm hot, tired hungry and above all else peed off by having a gun pointed at me! So 
please put it down!"
	A voice came from over the REP soldier's shoulder. "What's going on here?" said a gruff 
voice. Nick looked to see a man in a GMP uniform, ranked captain, with a moustache and short black 
hair. He walked over to Nick, and asked the soldier "Who's this?"
	"He said he's with the TASC, and was attacked by Invid. I'm not so sure. If you want my 
opinion..."
	"Let me guess: he's an Invid sympathiser putting on an amazingly good bleeding act, in order 
to infiltrate this facility and turn us all over to the Invid. That's what you said about the last guy."
	"But, sir, he was an Invid sympathiser."
	"Well, that doesn't mean that he is."
	"But, sir, I don't think..."
	"You're right, it isn't your job."
	"Look," interrupted Nick, "while you're busy trying to decide weather or not I'm on your side, 
that's all going to become a moot point because I'm busy bleeding here!"
	The man looked at him, and let out a hearty laugh. "I don't think that's any act, soldier. You'd 
better get him inside."
	"But, sir..."
	"THAT'S AN ORDER SOLDIER!!" he yelled, finally losing his temper.
	"Yeah, you heard him!" said Nick.
	"Alright!" The soldier started to help Nick up, and support him. Nick let out a yelp of pain.
	"Hey! Watch the leg!"
	"Just consider yourself lucky we found you," she said, helping nick inside the bunker.
	"Lucky?! I would have been better off bleeding! OUCH!"
	The captain followed them, sniggering slightly.

	"YEEOOWWCH!!!!! Watch it!" cried Nick, as his bandaged was tied a little too tight.
	"Quit whingeing will ya? do you want this leg, or not?" responded Sarah, the not-so-cute REP 
soldier, who seemed to be the only one on the base with any degree of medical training, much to Nick's 
disappointment."
	"I was hoping you'd have some real medical staff on this base."
	"Sorry."
	"Sorry? What do you mean sorry? Anything would be an improvement. I was hoping for some 
sweet-hot-angel-of-mercy-nurse-babe. YAARRGG!!"
	"My apologies, but I'm not a sweet-hot-angel-of-mercy-babe, you jerk. So quit whining and let 
me tie this on."
	"I wish I was dead."
	"Serious?"
	"Grr." Eventually, Sarah finished. It was far from an expert job, but it would do.
	"Look," she said, "Sorry about the rough treatment earlier."
	"No problem. Forget it."
	"Okay." She promptly left him there. Nick was lying on a bed in the makeshift sickbay, 
wondering what other nutcases might inhabit this base. So far, he has seen a near psychotic guard and 
less-than-satisfactory (ouch) makeshift nurse, and a GMP with an overactive sense of humour. 
Problem was, he was probably in charge of the base. The man wandered into the sickbay, and seemed 
glad to find Nick there.
	"Ah, good to see she fixed up your leg. How is it?"
	"Sore. Has she had her shots yet?"
	He laughed again. That deep laugh, full of confidence, that said 'I know what's so funny and 
you don't.' "Less than wonderful, I know, but still useful. So, tell me exactly what happened."
	Nick told his story. He'd survived the Second Robotech war by the skin of his teeth, and by 
default of not going near an Assault Carrier. He'd met up with some other ex-ASC members soon after 
the invasion, and they'd been travelling together for a while. Then the Invid attacked their camp. For no 
reason.
	"I see. Do you think you might have left any protoculture generators on?"
	"What do you mean?"
	"Well, we've discovered that the Invid can track mecha by detecting their protoculture 
emanations. We've tried to eliminate the problem, but since nothing else gives us the necessary power 
to run mecha effectively against the Invid, it's sort of a catch 22 situation."
	"No, nothing was left on. We were all asleep."
	"That's odd. Had you encountered them much before that?"
	"Not recently."
	"Very odd." The captain paused. "Anyway. I'm captain David Baskerville. Although not officially 
on active duty any more, there still is a brig, so don't call me Dave."
	"No problem. Nick West."
	"Cheers."
	"You're strange."
	"Not quite. It's just that spending thirteen years in the GMP gives one a strange sense of 
humour. Can you walk?"
	"Yeah, I guess so."
	"Good I'll give you a tour of the base."
	The two of them left the sick bay, and started wandering. Although sparsely populated, Nick 
did see the occasional assistant or such wandering through the corridors. As they walked, David 
described the base and it's function.
	"I've worked on this base for the last seven years. The GMP uses it as a storage and impound 
facility. They lock up all sorts of prototypes and cancelled production lines. We used to have a sizeable 
number of Harguns here, but they-"
	"Er, excuse me, Harguns?"
	"The Hargun was made by the GMP as a light destroid, and also useable for urban defence. It 
stands some four metres tall, and weighs just over a ton. On a good day, it could transform into a 
motorcycle."
	"On a good day?"
	"Well, its limbs couldn't retract into the torso, so it ejected them in order to transform. It 
needed considerable assistance to go from motorcycle to humanoid again."
	"Not very popular, I guess."
	"You got that right. Anyway, they were all taken by GMP forces moving on Reflex point." He let 
out a sigh. "They got slaughtered."
	"Sorry to hear it."
	"Not as sorry as Earth. Anyway, we also store captured mecha before they're taken off to be 
dissected. We've currently got an Triumviroid Bioroid locked up, as well as the pilot."
	"What have you actually got to defend yourselves?"
	"Here, I'll show you." They'd reached a large metallic double-door that lead into the mecha 
bay. David swiped a passcard through the lock, and the doors hissed open.
	The mecha bay, although spacious enough for many more, contained only three mecha, and 
one small vehicle. The vehicle was a very solid looking hovercycle, with two nacelles flanking the main 
body of the cycle. The left one had what appeared to be a heavy beam cannon mounted on it, and the 
right one sported what looked like nothing so much as a missile launcher. Of the mecha, only one was 
recognisable by Nick, and that was the much dreaded Triumviroid Bioroid, its head and cockpit 
invitingly wide open. To the left of that was what resembled an old RDF destroid, but wasn't of any 
designation he recognised. It had comparatively thin legs, and a bulky torso with a head module jutting 
out the top. A flat missile launcher was mounted on each shoulder, and a small turret was installed in 
the abdomen. The arms each had some nozzle in them, and in its right hand it held an impressive 
looking rifle of some description or another. On its back was a large backpack-type module, with gaping 
intakes up the top and jet nozzles down the bottom. Nick found it impossible to imagine this beast 
flying.
	The last one grabbed his attention; it was a guardian formed machine, but with styling close to 
the Logan's, size comparable to the VF Veritech, but a completely different structure. Its shapes were 
rounded and smooth. Its lower legs were wide and bulky, but the thighs were thin, and lacked the 
intakes of the VF Veritechs. The legs joined the body on either side of the cockpit, which was mounted 
one the front of the torso. Rather than the long nose of the Veritechs, or the round nose of the Logan, 
the cockpit was out on its own in front. The top half was a transparent bubble canopy, but the lower half 
was armoured plate. The body itself was rounded, and put Nick in mind of a tortoiseshell with a pair of 
small fins at the back. A thin wing was mounted on either side of the torso with a thruster block at its 
base, and half way back on torso emerged a pair of large, oval-shaped shoulders, dropping down to 
bulky forearms with thick hands and a pair of weapon nozzles on each forearm. The right arm mounted 
a barrel similar to that of a GU-11 gun pod with a large, semi-circular rear module. It was painted in an 
overall grey