Monday, April 24, 2017


Where the Zentraedi armada answered (though not entirely) to the Robotech Masters...the Robotech Masters answered to their masters...
The Elders.

Don't mind if I do!
*The enigmatic energies opened a way across the lightyears, to a sphere like a blue sapphire fifteen feet across. It threw forth brilliance, the glare splashing off the axkeen, hawk-nosed faces of the three Elders who sat, enthroned in a circle, staring up at it. From far across the galaxy the Elders reached out with their minds to survey the Robotech Masters' situation.

The Elders were of a type, fey and gaunt, dressed in regal robes but looking more like executioners. All three had bald or shaven pates, their straight, fine hair falling below their shoulders. Under their sharp cheekbones were scarlike creases of skin, suggestive of tribal marks, that emphasized the severity of those laser-eyed faces.*

- Robotech Novel (RN) #7 - Southern Cross

With the defeat of the Zentraedi more than a decade before and the crumbling of their interplanetary empire by way of the vengeful Invid, their last hope lay in Zor's Protoculture Matrix, the vessel of the mysterious energy source which made Robotechnology and the Elder's rule possible.

In order to fulfill their maniacal dreams of power, they would need find the Matrix in what remained of Zor's Fortress... what remained of the SDF-2 what remained of Khyron's battle cruiser. what remained of New Macross City.

The Mounds.

The Historical site of Robotech!
They studied the images and data sent to them by their servants, the Robotech Masters.

One of them, Nimuul, whose blue hair was stirred by the air currents, mindspoke. His disembodied voice was thick as syrup. The first transignal is of the area where the highest readings of Protoactivity have been recorded. Preliminary inspection indicates that it is unguarded.

That pleased the other Elders, but none of them evinced any emotion; they were above that, purged of it long ago.

Hepsis, of the silver locks, cheek resting on his thin, long-fingered fist, forearm so slender that it appeared atrophied, watched the transignal images balefully.  Hmm. You mean those mounds of soil and rock?  His voice was little different from Nimuul's. 


The three were looking at the transignal scene of the massive artificial buttes that stood in the center of what had once been the rebuilt Macross City. Although they didn't know the history of that long climactic battle of the Robotech War, and didn't realize what they were studying; the transignal was showing them the final resting places of the SDF-1, the SDF-2, and the flagship of Khyron the Backstabber.

All three ships had been destroyed in those few minutes of Khyron's last, suicidal attack; all had been quickly buried and the city covered over and abandoned due to the intense radiation, the last place ever to bear the name Macross.  

RN #7 - Southern Cross

But Zor's Vision not only was about sending his fortress to was about redemption for sins commited against an unsuspecting species. 

In order for this to come to pass...his Vision also safes.

The Wraiths.

Guardians of the Vision....and of the Protoculture Matrix.

A Face only a mother could love!

Nimuul explained, Zor's ship is probably-Wait!  

But he didn't have to draw their attention to it; Hepsis and Fallagar, the third Elder, could see it for themselves. For the first time in a very long time, the Elders of the Robotech Master race felt a misgiving that chilled even their polar nerves. 

Three night-black figures wavered in the enormous transignal globe, defying the best efforts of the Masters' flagship's equipment to bring them into focus. The entities on the screen looked like tall, sinister wraiths, caped and cloaked, high collars shadowing their faces-all dark save for the light that beamed from their slitted eyes.

Three, of course-as all things of the Protoculture were triad.

The area is guarded by a form of inorganic sentry, Nimuul observed. Or it could be an Invid trap of some kind.

Fallagar, his hair an ice-blue somewhere between his comrades' shades, gave mental voice to their misgivings. Or it might be something else, he pointed out. Something to do with the thrice-damned Zor. 

 The images of the wraiths faded, then came back a bit against a background of static as the transignal systemry struggled to maintain it. It seemed that the ghostly figures knew they were under observation-were toying with the Masters. The lamp-bright eyes seemed to be staring straight at the Elders.

Then the image was gone, and nothing the Scientist Triad or Clonemasters could do would bring the Protoculture specters back into view. White combers of light washed through the blue globe of the transignal imager again, showing nothing of use.

By a commonality of mind, the Elders did not mention-refused to recognize-this resistance to their will and their instrumentality. The guardian wraiths would be discussed and dealt with at the appropriate time. 

RN #7 - Southern Cross

If Zor were still alive to see this moment...his first thought would be;

Let the game begin...

YEAH! YEAH! I know it's Zor Prime!
- John


IMAGES: Comico Robotech Comics "Dana's Story"
The Cover Art  of David Schleinkofer

Sunday, April 23, 2017


As their warrior Zentraedi before them...The Robotech Masters make a cautious approach towards the planet whose inhabitants defeated the giants.

It is not out of revenge they seek out the Micronian planet....

...but for the survival of their own race.

(Another experiment video...keeping it in line to the one I did for the Macross Saga...I am in the baby step stage. I wish I had more time to produce/learn more...but slow and steady as she goes...we'll get there!

NOTE I am going to do another week of the Masters Saga , Four posts I don't think gave it a proper dive into. )



EXCERPT: Robotech Novel, Southern Cross 
IMAGE: Robotech: Animated Series, Ep. 37, Dana's Story
MUSIC: Digital Juice (DJ) StackTraxx Epic, Grand Fortress

Tuesday, April 18, 2017


As part of the graduating class of the Southern Cross Military, Dana Sterling became a member of the new generation sworn to defend the battle ravaged Earth. 

Dana is not your typical cadet. She wants to be treated equally, yet can't seem to fight the urge to stand out among the crowd. 

"The aide frowned at a computer printout. Then he glanced down his nose at Dana, looking her over disapprovingly. "Congratulations. You go to the Fifteenth squad, Alpha Tactical Armored Corps," he said with a sniff.  

Dana had learned how to hide emotions and reactions at the academy; she was an old hand at it. So she didn't squeal with delight or throw her diploma into the air in exultation.  

She was in a daze as she filed back to her seat, her squad following behind. The ATACs! The 15th squad! Hovertanks! 

Let others try for the soft, safe, rear-echelon jobs, or the glamorous fighter outfits; nowadays the armored units were the cutting edge of Robotechnology, and the teeth and claws of the United Earth Government's military-the Army of the Southern Cross. 

And the 15th had the reputation of being one of the best, if not the best. Under their daredevil leader, First Lieutenant Sean Phillips, they had become not only one of the most decorated but also one of the most courtmartial-prone outfits around-a real black-sheep squad.  

Dana figured that was right up her alley. She would have been graduating at the top of her class, with marks and honors succeeding generations would have found hard to beat, if not for certain peccadillos, disciplinary lapses, and scrapes with the MPs. She knew most of it wasn't really her fault, though. The way some people saw it, she had entered the Academy with several strikes against her, and she had had to fight against that the whole way.  

Cadets who called her "halfbreed" usually found themselves flat on their faces, bleeding, with Dana kneeling on them. Instructors or cadre who treated her like just one more trainee found that they had a bright if impulsive pupil; those who gave any hint of contempt for her parentage found that their rank and station were no protection. 

Cadet officers awakened to find themselves hoisted from flagpoles...a cadre sergeant's quarters were mysteriously walled in, sealing him inside....The debutante cotillion of the daughter of a certain colonel was enlivened by a visit from a dozen or so chimps, baboons, and orangutans from the academy's Primate Research Center...and so on.  

Dana reckoned she would fit into the 15th just fine." 

Robotech Novel #7- Southern Cross 

Which of her parent's characteristics are more dominant?

Let's say all AND none at the same time. 

Her first and only assignment as a soldier to the 15th ATACS seems to be destined.

The Shapings of the Protoculture balancing act at work.

But that's another story for another day.

- John


Saturday, April 15, 2017


"I feel that the McKinney novelizations of Robotech have helped to expand the realm of Robotech, and I appreciate what the books have done for Robotech."

- Carl Macek, Producer Of Robotech: The Animated Series,

"To Carl Macek, who pulled it all together."

- Jack McKinney, Dedication in Robotech Novel #1 - Genesis


The Robotech jouney begins for Lynn Minmei with a diary entry...

Dear Diary,

Launch day's really been fun, even though Jason's making himself a bit of a pest. I met a couple of really dreamy guys, pilots, I guess-a very tall blond one and a cute little darkhaired one.

I'm going back out this evening to sing at the municipal center picnic. Maybe they'll be there! I might-hey! I think something's going on outside. More later.

- From the diary of Lynn-Minmei

RN - Genesis, Epigraph, Chapter 8

When I first watched the series...I honestly found her annoying.

In the Novels, from Macross, The Sentinels, and to the End of the Circle...the character of a survivor...plain and simple.

I feel so nostalgic going back to her beginnings in the RNU...

- John


IMAGE: Robotech: The Animated Series, Ep. 36 - "To The Stars"