The list of players was still incomplete when Miriya took to the stage; but was there ever a harder act to follow?
The Collected Journals of Admiral Rick Hunter
THE BEST THEY COULD DO WAS CLEAN UP THE MESS.
Breetai looked on as two lower-echelon soldiers carted fragments of the broken viewscreen from the bridge. The front shield of the observation bubble was also in ruin. Much as Breetai’s career.
Dolza, Breetai, and Exedore had been on the bridge when the Micronians’ mecha had punched through the wall. Only seconds before, they had been informed of the prisoners’ escape, and Breetai was promising their speedy recapture. Then, suddenly, the transformed Battloid had exploded into their midst and soared belligerently out across the astrogation hold. Breetai had glimpsed the look on Dolza’s face then, and now that look was being leveled against him.
“So, Breetai, have the Micronians been recaptured?”
“I’m sorry to report that they haven’t. Their size presents difficulties.”
The Zentraedi commander-in-chief cocked his head to one side. “Indeed. And further difficulties are the last thing we need at the moment. Do you understand?”
“M’lord.”
“The responsibility was yours, and this failure will have to be entered into the record.” Dolza turned his back to Breetai. “I am relieving you of active duty for the time being, Commander.”
He turned around and motioned to the shattered observation bubble. “You can hardly continue to operate in this… condition, in any case.”
It was even worse than Breetai had expected. But he thought there might still be a way out. Exedore stepped forward to speak for him.
“But sir, the infiltration—who will assume responsibility for the operation?”
Dolza considered this. “Breetai’s knowledge of Zor’s ship has been an invaluable aid to us in this matter. It will be duly noted. However, Azonia will now be in charge of our three agents.”
“Azonia?!” Breetai and Exedore exclaimed.
“But Azonia isn’t briefed—”
Dolza held up his hand to silence Exedore. “Commander Azonia is a loyal subject who has never failed me. Once more, I am assigning our finest pilot to her charge.”
Just then two soldiers requested entry and conveyed the hover-table onto the bridge. Grouped together on the tabletop and clothed in the only suitable garments available—sleeveless sackcloths cinched at the waist by rough cords—were the three now “micronized” operatives, Rico, Konda, and Bron.
Dolza looked down on them soberly.
“You understand the gravity of your mission?”
“Sir!” three small voices shouted in unison.
“Miriya will oversee your insertion into the dimensional fortress.”
The agents exchanged looks and expressions of excitement.
“Succeed and you will each have a cruiser to command upon your return.”
Three arms were raised in salute: “For the glory of the Zentraedi!”
Dolza returned the salute and turned to Breetai as the hover-table was taken from the bridge.
“This time we will not fail.”
* * *
Ben remembered having hurdled the giant alien’s spread fingers, but Max assured him that he’d done nothing of the sort. They’d both taken a dive off to one side of the corridor when the Zentraedi pounced and found cover behind an open hatch just as the VT exploded. They saw Rick and the Commander make their escape, but neither Max nor Ben was able to pick up the trail. While enemy soldiers poured into the area, the two corporals had moved swiftly through a serviceway that ran parallel to the ship’s central corridor. They had made good progress for several hours, until Max had inadvertently tripped a scanner alarm reset to detect movement along the floor of the passageway.
They had three shock troopers on their tail now and a deadly flock of projectiles overhead. The soldiers were herding them toward a waiting elevator, hoping to corner them inside. But perhaps the enemy hadn’t identified the weapon one of the Micronians carried, or perhaps they hadn’t even seen it. In any case, no sooner did the two enter the car than Max swung himself about face, trained his laser rifle on the elevator controls, and fired. The intense beam soldered the proper circuits; the doors slid closed, and the car began to descend…
* * *
In that liquid dream, Minmei was leaving him and Rick was calling out to her, over and over again…
Then Lisa’s face floated into focus, and the dream faded. She helped him sit up and asked if he was all right.
He began to take stock of himself and these new dark and wet surroundings. They were in an area of huge pipes, containment chambers, baffles, valves, and regulating devices, seated near the edge of a system of channels and reservoirs that stretched out into the darkness. Shafts of light filtered down from far above them, and the thick air was filled with the sounds of mechanized pumps and filtration units, running water, and the clank and hiss of fluid control conduits.
They were both soaked to the skin; Lisa’s uncoiled long brown hair hung in wet waves halfway down her back.
She said, “We must be in the water-recycling chamber. It’s in terrible disrepair.” She laughed at her words. “Great time to be judgmental, huh? This pool saved our lives. We must have fallen a hundred feet.”
With effort, Rick got to his feet. “Maybe the water broke our fall, but something else saved me from drowning.”
Lisa averted his gaze. “I wasn’t about to have you die on me, Hunter.” Then she looked directly at him. “Let’s just call it even.”
Rick’s vision was adapting itself to the dark; he began to take notice of the refuse and debris all around them. Nearby there were hatchways and elevator platforms, and somewhere in the distance, faint light.
“They do let things get run-down, don’t they?”
“I’ve been thinking about it, Lieutenant. Even with all their technical knowledge, maybe they only know how to use the equipment but not how to repair it. No techs, no maintenance personnel. Just soldier clones, every last one of them.”
“All this destructive power… I wonder how many worlds they’ve ended, how many lives they’ve taken. It’s sickening to think about: an entire civilization dedicated to war.”
“I guess I should feel right at home.”
“What d’ya mean?”
“My father had a favorite saying: ‘Only where there is battle being waged is there life being lived.’” She sighed. “My family has been connected with the military for the past century… The only life I’ve ever known is the Defense Forces. ‘The mission,’ that’s all I can think about.” She gestured. “You heard me up there.”
“Yeah, but that’s why you’re an officer. You’re a leader. Head of the class and all that.”
Lisa’s eyebrows knitted. “How did you find that out?”
“It’s common knowledge.” Rick laughed. “Some of the VT pilots call you Supergirl.”
“Wonderful…” She looked hard at Rick. “You know, I don’t mean to intimidate anyone. It’s just that…” A sly smile replaced her grim expression. “Forget it. But I’ll bet Miss Macross isn’t a bit intimidating, is she?”
Rick was taken off guard. “Minmei? What makes you think—”
“You were calling her name: ‘Minmei! Minmei!’” Lisa playfully mocked him.
“All right, all right. What of it?”
“You tell me.”
“Nothing to tell. We’re friends, that’s all. You know how it is. She’s a celebrity. Public property. We don’t have time for each other anymore.”
“A major talent, I’m sure.”
Rick gave her a look that signaled she’d gone too far.
“Listen, Lieutenant, I’m only kidding. At least you have someone to return to. All I have is another mission to look forward to.”
“There’s no one in your life?”
“Just call me Miss SDF-1.”
“That’s just a matter of time. You’re a beautiful woman. Most guys would give…”
“Yeah?”
“What I mean is, you’re a brilliant officer, and…”
Lisa didn’t say anything for a minute; then she cleared her throat and stood up. “Well, I’m not going to meet anyone sitting around here, am I?”
She took hold of Rick’s hand. “Let’s get out of here, Lieutenant.”
They walked toward the light.
Engine rooms, storage rooms, empty holds, a second recycling plant, more storage areas—all in the same shabby, unwashed, and unmaintained state. But something had changed: The air had begun to lose that overpoweringly dank smell and thickness. A slight breeze played through Lisa’s long hair.
They moved toward the source of the wind.
At the far end of the supply room filled with Battlepods and ordnance of every conceivable type, they found their exit: a rectangular port in the hull of the ship. They ran toward this, the wind no longer gentle but chilled and full of sound, and stopped short of the edge, awestruck.
So wrapped up in finding a way out, they had forgotten that they were actually onboard a ship within a ship!
If you could call it a ship.
Beyond the portal was a sight their senses were unprepared for: hundreds of Zentraedi ships anchored weightless in the seemingly sky-blue docking chamber of the command center. Overcome by a sudden wave of vertigo, Lisa took a step back. Was it possible? Dolza’s ship would have to be the best kept secret in the universe—a thousand miles long—to accommodate all these vessels! Her mind wrestled with it, her thoughts spinning out of control.
Rick had taken hold of her arm. “Someone’s coming!” he told her.
They concealed themselves behind some crates near the portal. Rick tuned in to the sounds he had heard and realized at once that no Zentraedi was capable of making so little noise. It had to be…
“Ben! Max!” Lisa yelled.
The four of them reunited in a group embrace, and capsule summaries of their respective adventures and ordeals were rapidly exchanged. Max complimented Lisa on how lovely she looked with her hair down, and she congratulated him on having been able to hang on to his “thinking cap” all this time. Ben was in his usual good humor.
“So what’s next on the agenda, friends?”
The intrusion of reality cooled their warm reunion somewhat; what was next, indeed? From the edges of the portal they could see a cruiser taking on supplies through a transfer tube at a neighboring port in the flagship.
“We could get aboard easy enough,” said Max, “but where do you think she’s bound?”
“Does it matter?” Ben asked. “Let’s go.”
“Hold on a minute, Ben,” said Lisa. “We were brought here on this ship. I think we’d stand a better chance of getting back to the SDF-1 by remaining aboard.”
Max didn’t like the idea. “Not if the Zentraedi capture us. We’ve seen too much by now. They won’t take any chances with us.”
“He’s right,” Rick agreed. “You’re in charge, Lisa, but I vote for the cruiser.”
Lisa crossed her arms, then relaxed and smiled at them.
“All right, let’s do it.”
They set off at once.
Finding their way to the adjacent port was more difficult than they’d imagined, but once there it was a simple matter to conceal themselves from the guards and at the right moment jump aboard the cargo conveyer. Rick thought about mice and rats again as the team was carried out of Breetai’s flagship and into the purple-armored cruiser.
Azonia was the commander of the cruiser and her all-female crew. Highly skilled, respected, and powerful, she had earned a reputation for succeeding where others had failed. Her attractiveness and magnetism had helped secure a brilliant career, but her soft eyes and small features belied the arrogant, self-absorbed megalomaniac many knew her to be. Here was one who would sacrifice half her fleet to fulfill that all-consuming passion for victory-a fact that had endeared her to the Zentraedi Command but one that instilled fear in the hearts of anyone of lesser station. In fact, among all the Zentraedi there was only one who would have defended her to the finish and whose respect for her some said was tainted by an atavistic lust for sensual experience. That one was Khyron, the so-called Backstabber.
Azonia was joined on the bridge of the cruiser by the ace pilot Dolza had promised her to carry out the infiltration—Miriya Parino of the Quadrono Battalion.
If Miriya was not as ambitious as her superior, she was certainly as respected. Where Azonia lived for self-glorification, Miriya fought for personal perfection: to rank first in this game called war the Zentraedi had been born into. Ever on the alert for new challenges, new tasks to master, new worlds to conquer, she was possessed of an intensely curious nature well suited to the extraordinary level of her talents, a trait that set her apart from the other pilots. But she was loyal to a fault and never failed to carry out her orders to the fullest. In this way she was much like her commander, but where Azonia would seek out ways to promote herself, only Miriya could rightfully judge Miriya. She had earned her own command a dozen times over but had rejected it on each occasion. Promotion would have placed her too far from the action, and it was hands-on action that she craved—contest, confrontation, challenge. She had little patience for the relative ease of a commander’s life, having always to be ready to accept blame or praise based on how well the troops had carried out their mission. No, it was far easier to accept the orders of those unskilled superiors and bask in the freedom that a secondary position allowed.
She was eager to mix it up with these Micronians. They were making fools of the pilots under Breetai’s command. And even the great Khyron had not fared well with this new enemy.
It was time to let the female Zentraedi take over.
Anyone unaware of the motivational differences between Azonia and Miriya might have been inclined to read rivalry into their relationship, and in fact many of the female soldiers on the bridge did just that, even though no such condition existed.
Azonia swirled the gray commander’s cloak over her crimson uniform as she turned to face the female ace. Her close-cropped bluestone-colored hair gave her an air of efficiency, unlike Miriya’s long thick fall of forest green and large emerald eyes that radiated sensual fire.
“I take it you have already been briefed on your mission.”
“I have, Commander Azonia. But may I speak freely?”
“Say what’s on your mind.”
“Delivering spies into the SDF-1 hardly seems a mission worthy of my talents.”
“Yes, I thought it might be something like that.”
“After all, I’m a combat pilot, not some delivery drone.”
“This mission happens to be of utmost importance. It has been authorized by Commander-in-Chief Dolza himself.”
“Of course, sir, but still—”
“Have you considered that these Micronians might prove to be more dangerous than you have been led to believe?”
“That is something to be hoped for, Commander.”
“Need I remind you that my reputation rides on this mission?”
Miriya bowed and saluted. “I will not fail you, my lord.”
Azonia narrowed her eyes.
“The three micronized operatives are presently aboard our sister ship. They have been placed inside a capsule-craft that you will retrieve once we are within range of the dimensional fortress. Now, how will you get the spies aboard?”
“I am not at liberty to discuss that aspect of the operation with anyone.”
The commander stiffened somewhat. “I see.”
“Commander, it will be good to best Breetai in this matter. And Khyron, of course.”
“Commander Khyron to you, Miriya—now and always. Is that clear?”
“My apologies, sir.”
“You are dismissed. Return to your quarters and prepare for hyperspace-fold.”
* * *
The fold operation was the first note of encouragement struck for the four Micronian escapees who had sequestered themselves in a supply hangar elsewhere in Azonia’s cruiser. The Zentraedi guards had left the hold when the spacefold began, leaving them alone in a room full of armaments and Battlepods. But they remained cautiously optimistic. Especially Ben.
“I know a way we can pass the time—we can count the number of different places we might end up after this fold.”
Lisa’s attention had been riveted on the real-time indicator, but Ben’s comment intruded on her concentration.
“Lieutenant Hunter, you didn’t tell me you had such a comedian on your team.” Lisa gestured to Ben. “We’ve gone from the frying pan to the fire, and all he can do is make jokes.”
“All right Ben, can it,” said Rick.
“How are we going to get outta here, anyway?” said Max. “Even if we do defold back in Earthspace?”
“We’re going to commandeer one of these Battlepods.”
Lisa said it so matter-of-factly that the three men did delayed double takes.
“Just climb into the Battlepod and fly it out of here, huh? Who’s going to teach us how to operate it? You think they left an operating manual inside, in the glove compartment maybe?”
Lisa put her hands on her hips. “Have you been playing hooky, Lieutenant?”
“Wait a minute!” Rick said defensively. “Sure, I’ve studied the insides of these things just like everybody else. But those were wrecks. Nobody’s actually piloted one of them.”
“Listen, Rick, you said yourself that their systems are complex but not impossible to understand. It shouldn’t be a problem for three ace pilots like you boys.”
“Come on, Commander…”
Lisa checked her watch. “It took us twenty-four real hours to make the hyperspace jump from Earthspace to Dolza’s command center. Assuming we’re headed back to the SDF-1, we’ve got twenty hours left to learn.”
“And suppose we’re not headed back to Earthspace? Suppose we defold at some other Zentraedi front or base or I don’t know what?”
“Then it won’t matter whether we learn how to operate it or not.”
Rick stood up and cracked his knuckles. “All right, gang, let’s get crackin’.”
* * *
Aft in the special weapons hold, Miriya strapped herself into the Quadrono scout ship—a combination thruster unit and multiple-missile launcher developed by the Invid, and designed for infiltration or solo penetration operations. Defold was complete, and the time had come to retrieve the three micronized agents from the cruiser’s sister ship.
Miriya lowered the canopy of the extravehicular pack and stepped forward to the edge of the port. In the distance she could see the object of her mission: the SDF-1. It was under attack by the remnants of Breetai’s tattered fleet.
Azonia came on-screen in the mecha’s cockpit:
“We’ll draw the enemy’s attention away from you. May you win all your battles!”
“As always!”
Miriya launched herself into space, a darting dragonfly among the stars…
* * *
Max had his arms stretched out deep into the pod’s waldolike gun controls. Ben was scratching his head, puzzling over the firing mechanism for the missiles. Lisa wondered how she was going to be able to activate those huge radio toggles. And Rick tried to figure out how he was going to fly the thing.
The interior of the Battlepod was not entirely dissimilar to human-made Robotech mecha. In fact, the design of the cockpit went a long way toward verifying Lisa’s theory about a point of common origin; the layout and placement of the controls had the logic of human construction, albeit on a grand scale.
Lisa, her arms overhead hugging a toggle switch, glanced at her watch and dropped to the sphere’s seat. She looked hard at her companions, calculating the present level of visual distortion against the indicator’s display. Satisfied with the results of her scan, she announced:
“We’re coming out of defold right on schedule. It’s got to be Earthspace or an incredible coincidence.”
The four regarded one another and took a collective breath; they all knew what had to be done next.
Rick readied himself at the controls. “Let’s see if we can start this thing up.”
He engaged the drive lever and activated the sensor and scanner systems. The mecha began to hum and come to life, and the first thing that greeted their eyes on the forward screen was the sight of two Zentraedi soldiers just returned to the hangar.
The soldiers spun around at the sound of the activated pod.
“They’re on to us!” yelled Rick.
“Blast ’em!”
Max shouted, “Here goes nothing!” as laser bolts shot from the arm cannons and dropped the guards to the deck.
Lisa and Ben cheered. Rick told Max to keep firing.
“Keep it up; let’s open up this can of worms and get out of here.” Meanwhile, he nudged the stick forward and the Battlepod lifted away from its still silent companions.
Max continued to pour particle heat into the hull, until all at once the lasers burned through, and air and mecha were being sucked in a rush toward the breach.
“We’re gonna have to be fast,” Max warned them. “These things heal themselves.”
Ben said, “Not while I’m around!” and loosed two rockets at the hull.
Rick let out a rousing yell. Simultaneously with the explosions, he sent the thruster stick home; the pod soared across the hangar and through the breach.
* * *
Miriya had retrieved the ejected canister which contained the micronized agents. Battlepods were swarming around Zor’s ship like angry insects and engaging enemy mecha throughout the field. It would have been a simple matter to insert the canister and be done with it, but she couldn’t resist testing these waters.
She flew straight into their midst, executing a series of teasing maneuvers meant to draw the enemy out; but not one of them succeeded in getting a fix on her. She made up her mind that these Micronians were nothing to worry about and grew even more daring, positioning herself in the center of an entire squadron of enemy fighters. And again their heat-seekers could not find the mark. She laughed aloud and stung back.
Roy Fokker, Skull Team leader, would later recall the strange sight he witnessed that day: how a Zentraedi mecha, not much larger than a giant with a jet pack, had taken out five VTs at once.
Through the breach, the commandeered Battlepod rolled into a near front gainer and was almost taken out by Zentraedi crossfire. But the occupants of that pod were filled with such vigor and élan that they scarcely took notice of their predicament. Ahead of them enveloped in a cloud of metal anger, was their ship. And beyond that, their planet and its silver satellite.
“Can you raise anything on the radio?”
“I’m trying,” said Lisa. Ben came to her aid; together they put their strength to the knob and managed to give it a fraction of a turn.
Rick heard singing: a familiar voice, a familiar song.
“That’s Minmei! That’s her song—‘My Boyfriend’s a Pilot’!”
“As long as it’s not was a pilot,” said Ben.
* * *
Miriya easily avoided the Phalanx and Valkyrie fire from the SDF-1 and came alongside the fortress at a point where Breetai claimed the hull could be easily breached. She summoned Protoculture strength to the outsize grappler hands of the mecha and tore away some new hatchway the Micronians had installed. She deposited the cylinder inside an air lock in the mecha, then opened and resealed.
“Insertion successful,” Miriya said aloud. “Returning to base.”
Status reports, enemy trajectories, battle coordinates…
“We’ve got the military frequency,” said Rick excitedly.
Lisa leaned into the mike. “Please respond, SDF-1, we are in your air space. This is Commander Hayes and the Vermilion Team attempting to make contact with our home base. Do you read me? Over. Rick, do you think they heard us?”
“I hope so, Lisa. I’d hate to be taken out by one of our own VTs.”
Three Battloids were closing on the pod in attack formation, gatling cannons in hand. Rick and Lisa, Ben and Max, turned to each other with undisguised looks of concern.
“Did they hear us, Rick? Did they hear us?!”
Rick closed his eyes as the Battloids moved in for the kill.
With home so close you could almost touch it…