VI. [Mylene]

 
          The bass fit carefully into the case, the velvet cloth covering it, and then the top coming down over the velvet. It was the hard shell case, not the soft one she used to lug it around in. Because she wouldn't be using it anymore.
          "I'm proud of you, Mylene," her mother jabbered over the viewscreen in the main room. Her mother was tireless, a bundle of energy that just kept going and going and never stopped. She'd been ecstatic when Mylene had called three weeks ago before to tell her that she'd be staying in the fleet for school, to the university aboard the Einstein, but then there was little that Milia wasn't ecstatic about nowadays, ever since her sister Miranda had had her baby. She'd sent word to her parents by fold transmission two weeks ago, and since then both Max and Milia had been in extremely good moods. She suspected that it had something to do with the fact that her sister's new baby was a boy.
          She could have gone anywhere she wanted, really. The new university on Varauta, just starting out, had tried its hardest to snag her. She could have gone to Mars, to Eden…even back to Earth.
          But in the end, she found she couldn't bring herself to leave the fleet she had learned to call home.
          She smoothed her fingers over the velvet one final time, then slowly closed the lid over the bass, her baby, hearing it click shut with a final snap. Her mother was still babbling away behind her and she fought back the tears, blinking fiercely.
          "You know," Milia said in that superior tone that she had long learned meant the beginning of one of her mother's long speeches, "I'm quite glad you're putting that bass away. I do wish you would sell it, especially since it would go for a high price, being the instrument you'd played at lives and all, but I suppose this is good enough. You're a student now, and it'll be good for you to put all that behind you. I'm so glad you finally realized that."
          She resisted the urge to sigh, turning back around to face the viewscreen. "I would never sell this."
          "All the same, I wish you would give it to me to-"
          "Ray's keeping it," she said firmly. "I promised him I'd let him keep it." He'd asked her about a week ago what she'd planned to do with her instrument, and she had stared at him. She had no clue. The bass had become a part of her, like an extra limb, and she hadn't even considered it. She knew she couldn't take it with her – it would hurt too much. But she couldn't get rid of it either.
          So she gave it to Ray. She didn't know why, exactly.
          Her mother's mouth set in a disapproving line. "I don't see what he wants with it."
          "For old times' sake."
          "Really, Mylene, I-"
          The incoming call light beeped, and she almost screamed with relief. "Mom, I've got a call. Gotta go."
          "Mylene, you-!"
          She flipped the switch, cutting off her mother in mid-sentence, and turned to look at the call box, her heart pounding a little faster just in case it happened to be Basara, even though he never called her other than to tell her that she had forgotten something or that for once, she was the one who was late. Basara. Right. She wasn't going to think about him.
          But it wasn't Basara anyway, of course. It was her father. With a sigh, though a smaller sigh than she had used for her mother, she accepted the transmission.
          Max's kindly face filled the screen, and for some reason the sight of him was almost too much to bear. He frowned at her for a second.
          "Mylene, are you all right?"
          She took a deep breath, gulping, and nodded. "It's just…a lot to think about…I guess."
          His face cleared. "Your mother called, didn't she?"
          "How'd you guess?"
          "Just a hunch," he responded, a small smile playing about his lips. Her parents had been extremely weird since the end of the Protodeviln War, and just when she thought they were getting back together, they would have another argument and call it off. And then things would cool off and get better for a while, and then the situation would explode again. She'd almost given up trying to ever guess their thought-processes, and had long ago given up any kind of plan to get them back together like she wanted them. She'd tried during the war, but it had been years before she realized that it wasn't anything she could do. It was the two of them that were the problem.
          The legends, growing old and growing apart. She loved her parents, but she didn't want to grow up to be like them.
          The news about Miranda's baby had apparently driven them back together, and she'd even seen snatches of "news" on the Galaxy Sport and other tabloids, hinting at a reunion. She'd believe it when she saw it. She didn't need tabloids to tell her what was going on with her family…though it hadn't stopped her four years ago from buying it to keep tabs on Basara.
          Not thinking about him. Not.
          "Mylene? You're spacing."
          "Huh? Oh. Uh…sorry…"
          Her father gave her another small smile. "You know, Mylene…we don't talk much anymore, but I am still your father, you know. The same dad you grew up with. If you ever need to talk about anything…"
          Her parents always said that, and once or twice she'd actually considered laying out her feelings on the table about the band and Gamlin and Basara. But Milia was scatterbrained and flying from one project to the next, and besides, Milia wanted her with Gamlin. Max, her dependable, loyal father, would probably actually put aside all his duties for the day just to hear about her problems. That was something she didn't want. Though actually that was something she didn't know his point of view on.
          "Actually," she hedged, feeling rather shy. "I do have a question."
          "Ask away," he said, reaching for his coffee mug. "What do you want to know?"
          "Papa…what do you think of Gamlin?"
          He blinked. "What?"
          "Gamlin. You know, the one I've been dating on and off for four years. The one Mama wants me to marry. The one that everyone thinks I'm engaged to. What do you think?"
          She watched him ponder this for a moment. "Does that matter?" he responded.
          "Papa?"
          "The real question, I think you mean, is what do you think?"
          "I didn't ask you that to get an answer back, dad," she said, annoyed.
          "I know. But in matters like these, it really doesn't matter what I think. Mylene, you're a woman. You're eighteen years old, you're going to start a new life away from home, and like it or not, you're still a galactic hero. I believe you're old enough to decide what you want. It's your future, not your fans', not mine, not your mother's." He paused, frowned. "Definitely not your mother's. And don't let her tell you otherwise, either. She has a tendency to be a bit bossy."
          "I know," she said heavily. "I just-"
          "Gamlin or Basara, that's not my decision to make. Only you can make that choice."
          She smiled wanly at him. "Thanks, Papa. I suppose."
          He smiled back a real smile at her, and she felt a little better. "That's my little girl. You get some rest now. I want you to be awake tomorrow for the ride over."
          "I love you Papa," she said.
          "I love you too." The screen went blank.
          She padded over to her dresser drawer, stuffed more clothes into the half-full suitcase by the bed. Tomorrow was only orientation, and she'd still be keeping this house in the City in case she ever wanted to come home for vacations, so packing wasn't a big deal. But she was packing, because packing helped take her mind off certain…things. And people.
          She was halfway between the screen and the dresser before she realized that while she'd mentioned Gamlin to her father, she had said nothing about Basara. But he'd mentioned Basara and Gamlin in the same sentence. Which meant that somehow, he'd figured it out, was giving her a choice when she wasn't even sure that there was one.
          "Am I THAT transparent?" she moaned to Guvava, who simply squeaked and rolled over on her bed. She clapped a hand to her forehead and groaned. "Mou!"
          The incoming call button chimed. She almost didn't answer, but figured whoever it was would be prime yelling material for her pent-up frustration. Especially if it was her mother.
          The remote was on the floor and she kicked it into place with one toe, pointing it at the screen and stomping on the "on" button. "Whoever you are," she snapped, "you better have something really good to say, because I…oh."
          It was him.
          "Do you really hate me that much?" Basara said from the screen. "I can go."
          "Sorry," she said, trying to hear him over the thundering heartbeat in her ears. "I thought you were my mother…" Her hands were sweating. She wiped them nervously on the sides of her pants, then realized she was in her pajamas, but it was too late to change. "You're calling me? You never call me." She heard the accusatory note in her voice and winced. "I….sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way…"
          Great, Mylene. The guy calls to wish you good luck or something and you don't even know how to talk to him without starting an argument. Way to go.
          "Listen…Mylene…" He trailed off, looking extremely ill at ease, and her racing heart slowed a bit to see how miserable he sounded.
          "Are you all right?" she said softly, dropping the shirt she was folding and walking up to the projector to look him in the eye. "You look terrible."
          "I feel terrible. You know I've been sick."
          She was feeling bold and rather desperate, and she really didn't care how the words came out. "That's not what I mean," she said. "And you know it."
          He closed his eyes, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "Look. It's hard enough as it is already for me to try talking to you without starting some kind of fight, so…let me be, all right?"
          The wave of disappointment that washed over her was uncalled for, and she couldn't really figure out why it was there. Of course he hadn't caught onto what she had been implying in that last statement. How could she have expected him to? Feelings were ephemeral things, unique to only one person most of the time, giving with no return. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "That’s all my fault too, I guess. I'm sorry I'm such a nag."
          "Not your fault," he replied softly, with a hint of dry humor in his voice. "Most of the time I deserved it."
          She smiled a bit. "Well, that's almost over. After tomorrow, no more me around to nag you anymore. Enjoy your freedom."
          She saw his face twist a bit at that, felt something rise up in her heart, felt it drop again as she heard him say: "I was calling actually about this song that you uh…stole."
          She was about to retort that she hadn't stolen it, she had taken it and given it back, but she saw that he was uncomfortable. So instead she simply said, "What about it?"
          He'd clearly been expecting some sort of sharp remark and she saw him blink a few times before he went on, a little hesitantly. "Thanks. For…working on it."
          It was her turn to blink. "Uh…you're welcome?"
          "I was…" he was hesitating again, which was odd. She waited. "Well, I was wondering why you bothered."
          "Why I bothered?" she echoed. "What?"
          "To try and finish some song that I was going to throw away anyway."
          She frowned. "You were going to throw it away? Why? It's one of the best things you've ever written!"
          The screen was large enough that she could see every faint change of his expression, and she saw him wince, his eyes going cloudy. "I've lost my touch, haven't I, Mylene?"
          "Basara-"
          "Just say it." His shoulders slumped. "I've….I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I feel useless."
          Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and all of a sudden the fiery fourteen year old temper was there again like she remembered it still, when Basara had done something stupid or hadn't thought before he acted or was late to a live or had just plain hurt her without realizing it. She marched up to the viewscreen, ignoring the surprised look on his face, and shook one fist at him.
          "You listen to me, Nekki Basara," she hissed. "Don't ever tell me, or yourself, or anyone that you're useless. You understand that? You're NOT useless! And if you ever say that again, I'll…I'll never speak to you again!"
          "You're doing a good job of that right now," he shot back. He was getting angry now. She didn't care. Let him get angry. She knew how to deal with an angry Basara. She didn't know how to deal with the quiet, defeated man who had come calling tonight for sympathy. Because the Basara she knew didn't want sympathy and would never know what to do with it if he'd gotten it.
          "Maybe it's good I'm getting away!" she snarled. "I've had enough of your attitude. The world doesn't revolve around you, you know, and you're doing a damned good job of making everyone think that it does! It didn't four years ago and it doesn't now!"
          "So that's all I am to you, huh? A self-absorbed bastard who only cares about himself?"
          She shook her other fist at him, not bothering to hide the rage in her voice. "Don't throw my words back in my face!"
          "Oh, so what do you-"
          "Nekki Basara, you find out what you want before you come crawling to me or to anyone else for help. I'm not going to sit by and watch you feel sorry for yourself. You're better than that!" She cut him off as he tried to say something else. "I know you're better than that and I won't have you lying to yourself. Something happened to the Basara I used to know. You're not him!"
          "People change, Mylene," he snapped. "I've changed."
          "No, Basara," she said, letting her fists drop, too tired to hold them up anymore. "You haven't changed…you've disappeared. I don't know you anymore."
          "Maybe you never did."
          She knew he was expecting some snide reply, but she let the comment slide, instead raised her head to look him straight in the eyes, saw the golden eyes blink in surprise and then slide away. She sighed. "You're right. Maybe I never did. Maybe the last four years were a lie and maybe the man I fell in love with never existed."
          She watched him freeze, his eyes sliding back to hers. Blink. Once. Twice. There was a strange sort of feeling bubbling up from her heart, as she realized with a fuzzy sort of surprise that the words had come out of her mouth without her consciously thinking about it, that they were said and there was no unsaying them. And that Max had been right.
          And her mother was going to be furious that it wasn't Gamlin.
          "Mylene…"
          He was going to tell her that she was just a kid and she couldn't know what love was. That she'd never been in love, so how could she be talking? That was all right. It didn't matter if he didn't feel the same way back. She was leaving anyway.
          "It's all right," she said. "I understand."
          "Mylene, I don't-"
          "I told you it's all right," she said again patiently. "I just wanted you to know. Before I-"
          "I was going to say that I don't understand why you could love someone like me," he interrupted her. "But if you're going to not let me talk, maybe you could explain why you're leaving then."
          She hadn't planned for that kind of reaction. "Well," she said, shrugging. "There's not much for me here anymore."
          "But the band-"
          "Fire Bomber isn't the band I joined."
          "It's me, isn't it?" he said heavily.
          "It might be."
          His eyebrows drew together. "If you're running away, you're not doing a very good job."
          "I don't need you to tell me what I can and can't do!"
          "I'm not-!"
          "Forget it," she snapped, turning her back. "Just forget it."
          A second of silence. "I'm sorry, Mylene."
          "Forget it," she said again. "There's a time and place for sorry, and this is not it. I'm sorry too, if that counts. Maybe if we're both sorry enough, we can even pretend the last three years or so never happened. That would be nice, wouldn't it?" She didn't bother to hide her sarcasm.
          Another second of silence and a rustle of something, and she thought he was going to hang up on her. But there was the soft strumming of an acoustic guitar, and a voice.

          Mimi o sumaseba kasuka ni kikoeru darou
          Hora ano koe
          Kotoba nan ka ja tsutaerarenai nanika
          Itsumo kanjiru are wa tenshi no koe

          It was the song. The song she finished. She spun around in surprise, but his eyes were closed and he was obviously playing and singing from memory. He'd already memorized it.
          Despite her efforts, she felt her heart reaching out to him, like it had in the prison on Varauta three years ago. Kimi ni todoke.
          "I am sorry, you know," he said, still strumming. "I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you. I'm always letting people down now….letting Ray and Veffidas down, letting you down, letting me down."
          "The band isn't everything," she ventured, not sure where he was taking this conversation, not daring to think.
          "No, that wasn't the problem. It was everything…during the war. You all were my family. But I…somehow, that took backseat to other things after it ended."
          "Ray said you lost your dream."
          He opened his eyes, and she was struck again by how fierce and powerful they were. "Maybe he was right. You could do far better than to love me. What about Gamlin?"
          "I love Gamlin," she said. "I love him like a friend and like a brother, but that's all. Maybe he could have been more if I had stayed the little girl I was when we first met. But I'm not that anymore. He doesn't need the me that I've become."
          "You make yourself sound like some old lady. You're hardly that. Stop it, or you'll start sounding like your mother."
          She smiled wanly. "Sometimes I feel like her."
          He played for a while and she watched him, just content to stand there and watch him play. It had been a long time since he'd done that – sat there and played.
          "I miss you," she said.
          "I miss you," he replied. "Even though you haven't left yet. Even though you're not going far away. I still do. Fire Bomber isn't Fire Bomber without you."
          "That's all? Just the band?"
          His lips quirked in a smile. "No. Maybe not."
          "Then that's enough," she said. "As long as you remember that, you'll always have me."
          He strummed a few more bars, then looked at her. "Tell me what you think I should do."
          "How should I know?"
          "You're leaving," he said. "I'm stuck in a rut and I don’t know what to do. And before you start, I'm not feeling sorry for myself. That's the way things are. I do feel useless, Mylene. And I hate it."
          She gazed at him for a moment more – the man who she had grown to love, the carefree soul burdened now by weights he couldn't even understand, and she knew.
          "Leave," she said.
          "What?"
          "Leave Macross 7 for a while. You feel useless here, don’t you? What was that you said about Sivil? She showed you the galaxy, didn't she, Basara? Have you forgotten her already? There's more out there than Macross 7 and you know as well as I do that's what you used to live for. The new frontier."
          "I can't leave-"
          "That’s not you talking. That's the Basara that the media has made up. The Basara I know would pack up and get off this ship in a heartbeat."
          He sighed. "I wish I could."
          "What's keeping you?"
          "Work. Responsibility. You…"
          "I'm telling you to go, aren't I? And I'm not going to be here much longer. There's something else, and it's not just work."
          He seemed to be considering her words, and then abruptly, he stopped playing, put down the guitar out of the range of the screen, and folded his hands in front of him. "All right, so tell me,. Mylene…what good is anima spiritia when there's no one around to understand it?"
          "I understand it. You understand it. My family…the fleet…don't they?"
          "I don’t know." He stared at his fingers. "I lie awake a lot now, wondering. Wondering what happened to Lynn Minmay. Wondering if she burned out too. Wondering if she was as great a legend as she's made out to be."
          "I don't think she was," she said thoughtfully. She'd brought the same topic up with her father a few years back just after the war, and Max had simply smiled, saying, Minmay was a legend, Mylene. And legends need to be larger than life. And maybe it's better that way, that Minmay the star became Minmay the legend, so she could inspire others to do the same.
          "You don't?"
          "Think about it, Basara. What is it about the media that you hate? They take the news and stretch it, don't they? If they've done it to us, they might have done it for Minmay. She wasn't some super omniscient musician, no matter how much she's depicted that way now in all the stories. I'm sure she had faults and weaknesses too. She was human, just like you."
          That seemed to strike a chord with him and some unidentifiable emotion crossed his face for a moment and then was gone. "Still, I-"
          And then she suddenly understood the source of all his frustrations, and she almost smiled. "Basara. You're yourself, and that's as good as you can be. Lynn Minmay didn't become a legend because she gave up after it was all over. She kept going, when those who had believed fell away. Because she believed they would come back. And even if they didn't…she still believed."
          "I used to be like that, you know."
          "Yes, and I liked the old Basara much better. What happened to singing your songs when you felt like singing them?"
          He gave a half-laugh. "I guess I grew up. Or maybe just grew older. I don't know if I'll ever grow up. I still believe in music. I just don't…don't want anything else that comes with it. No recordings. No shows. No nothing. I just want to play. And I can't do that anymore. I'm sick and tired of being compared to Lynn Minmay. Maybe that's why she left on the Megaroad."
          "So leave. Get away. Just go, Basara. Don't wait till you've lost the dream completely, because it's killing you now, and I can't stand to see you like this."
          He smiled. "What about you?"
          What about her? She would go to university. She'd get a degree in something, get out, get a job, make her mother proud of her, make her father happy, and leave her glory days behind. Was that what she wanted?
          "I'll be fine," she said with effort.
          "Don't lie. You're running away. I'm not the only one who's been living a lie, and you know that. Or didn't Ray tell you that too? He's good at that."
          She couldn't bear his eyes on her, and she turned her face away. "I just…"
          "Power to the dream," he said, and then sang it softly, a cappella, bringing involuntary tears to her eyes that she blinked away hard.

          Power to the dream
          Power to the music
          Atarashii yume ga hoshii no sa…

          "I need to…think," she said finally. "I need to get out. I can't stay here. My parents said it was time for me to move on, and I think they're right."
          "So why did Ray tell me he was keeping your bass?"
          She didn't answer.
          "It's late," he said at last, "and you have to leave early. I'll let you go." She heard him drawing back from the screen, and something in her brain screamed at her that no, it was too soon, that she couldn't part from him like this.
          "Basara-!"
          His eyes were startled, but she saw some relief in them too, relief that she didn't dare interpret one way or another. "The song…that I finished," she said in a breathless rush. "You never said what you wanted with it."
          "Oh…I…" he trailed off. She held her breath. "I was….hell, Mylene, you know I didn't call about that."
          "I know," she replied softly.
          His eyes locked on hers. "I'll let you go now," he said, a fierce, burning note in his voice she hadn't heard in it since the war. "But I'm not leaving. Not till you tell me what you're going to do."
          "I don't-"
          "Don't argue," Basara said. "It doesn't suit you." A smile. "I'll be waiting."
          And before she could say anything else, the screen went dark.
          She remained standing, staring at the black screen, feeling drained and giddy and frustrated and sad all at once, emotions rolled up in a ball lodged somewhere between her stomach and her pounding heart.
          "Power to the dream, huh?" she wondered out loud, and Guvava rolled over and gave a little burp. She let her legs go limp and fell backwards onto the bed next to him, watching the ceiling swim in and out of focus in the dimness. Served her right, that Basara had called her for advice and he'd ended up giving her some things to think about in return.
          So what the hell was she supposed to do now?
          She threw one arm over her eyes and sighed. Guvava's fur tickled her neck. She saw Basara's face in front of her closed eyelids. And then her father's and then her mother's. And then Gamlin and then Basara again.
          "Mattaku mou!"

 
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