So the last time I played Robotech was in college where Greytome was my Game Master. We did the final epic battle of Robotech macross at the end of the semester a fitting end to a great semester. Here is the story that I remembered:

The Earth was a graveyard.
The final battle had left cities in ruins, continents scorched and shattered.
And somewhere… my sister might still be alive.

I had one chance.
They offered me a Super Veritech — sleek, fast, but only lightly armed.
I didn’t care.
Speed was what mattered.
Speed could save lives.

Commander Hawthorne and I cut low over the broken wastelands, scanners hunting for survivors among the wreckage.
The cities were little more than twisted black scars across the earth.

Then — incoming contacts.

Battlepods.
A lot of them.

They came in screaming, laser fire stitching the air around us.
We fought hard — quick, brutal dogfights, missiles burning trails across the sky.
Even low on armaments, my Veritech danced among them, engines howling.

But this was just the beginning.

Commander Hawthorne’s voice crackled over comms:

“Massive Zentraedi force inbound! They’re making a run at the SDF-1!”

We turned toward base — and ran straight into another wave.

I didn’t hesitate.

“Commander — go! I’ll cover your retreat!”

He peeled away, thrusters screaming, racing to warn the fleet.
I turned to face the enemy, outnumbered but unbowed.

Lasers stitched my wing.
I poured fire into the pods, cannons overheating, thrusters flaring.
Every inch I gave was a hard-fought, bloody one.

Finally, the last of the attackers fell smoking into the ruins below.

I pushed the throttle to maximum and raced for base.

“This is Eddie! Coming in hot! Requesting fully armed Veritech — repeat, full loadout needed!“

Command’s voice came back — tight, stressed:

“Negative! No fighters available! All active!”

My stomach twisted.

No time to argue.

I gunned the battered Super Veritech forward, charging toward the maelstrom surrounding the SDF-1.

Above the battered ocean, the full scope of the battle unfolded — Veritechs in desperate dogfights, Destroids hammering at incoming Zentraedi forces, explosions lighting the sky.

And beyond them all…
A monster.
Khyron’s battlecruiser, charging at the SDF-1 at full speed.

It was a suicide run.
And it would succeed — unless someone stopped it.

Heart pounding, I dove into the battle.

My Veritech shuddered — one arm blasted clean off by enemy fire.
Warning klaxons screamed.

Still, I pushed through.

Spotting a breach in the enemy ship’s armor, I plunged into it — debris ripping past my canopy.

Inside, fire and smoke choked the corridors.
Twisted wreckage floated free in the dying gravity.

I slammed the transformation control — Battloid mode.
The Veritech shifted, legs snapping downward, arms bracing.

One arm — dead, useless, cables trailing.

Weapons — empty.
Missile bays — spent.
Cannons — dry.

I staggered into the battlecruiser’s command bridge.
There, at the helm, stood Khyron — eyes wild, laughing as he locked the final collision course.

I raised my battered mech’s good arm — nothing.
No missiles.
No guns.
No strength to stop him.

I could only watch — powerless — as Khyron sealed our fates.

The ship lurched, engines flaring — ramming speed.

Cursing, I kicked off and boosted away, forcing the half-crippled Veritech back into Guardian Mode for better maneuverability.

The burning ship fell behind me, accelerating toward doom.

I burst free just in time to see it collide with the SDF-1 in a cataclysmic explosion that rocked the ocean and sky alike.

The shockwave slammed into me, sending me spinning.

Struggling for control, I righted my flight path, lungs heaving.

Then — realization.

The MAC II Monster crew!

Old comrades from my days as a Monster Commander.
If they were still alive — they needed help.

Desperately scanning, I spotted the massive MAC II sinking into the boiling sea, debris falling like rain.

I raced toward it.

An escape pod jettisoned — small, fragile, tumbling amid the chaos.

Locking into Guardian mode, I skimmed low, carefully maneuvering.
Using my still-functioning canopy and arms, I cradled the pod beneath my Veritech — shielding it against the falling debris.

Every alarm blared in my cockpit.

“Mech: Critical. Pilot Ejection: Recommended.”

I pressed on.

Weaving through the destruction, engines straining, I carried them toward safety.

At the last possible moment — thrusters failing, armor cracking — I ejected.

I floated down by parachute, watching as my beloved Super Veritech, torn apart, spiraled into the waves.

The Monster crew’s pod drifted safely down, skimming across the battered waterline.

Above us, the SDF-1 — wounded beyond recognition — crashed into the ocean, sending a final, defiant plume of water and smoke skyward.

The battle was over.

At least… for now.

Floating above the broken world, I made a silent promise:
I’ll find you, sis. I swear it.