Oh, what a place this was! A city? The city. These nine-foot techno-horse-headed gestapos with their black armor and fancy blasters … They wouldn’a drawn second looks in this town.
Remark reported by Rand in his Notes on the Run
Another week went by and there was still no sign of advance units from the Expeditionary Force. Nevertheless, Scott and his team put the time to good use reconning the southern and eastern perimeters of the central hive complex. Thanks to information supplied to him by the Robotech officer (whose remains were now housed in the same graveyard Dusty Ayres helped to fill), Scott was beginning to form an overview of Reflex Point; it was not, as initially believed, a single hive but rather a group of hives, at the hub of which was the Regess’ stronghold. The complex covered a vast territory that stretched from the Ohio River Valley to the Great Lakes and from what had once been Pennsylvania west to Illinois. The week’s recon had established that the perimeter was most penetrable from the northeast; this constituted something of a lucky break for the team, as it placed Mannatan (formerly New York City) close enough to their route to justify a short detour. Burdette, the late Robotech officer, had furnished Scott with the location of a relatively unpoliced Invid storage facility within the island city, where there was more than enough canister Protoculture to restock the team’s dwindling supplies.
Mannatan was the largest surviving city in the Americas, Northlands and Southlands. It had been shaken and scorched by Dolza’s annihilation bolts, but many of its enormous structures had survived intact. So much death had been rained around it, however, that the city had had to be evacuated. Few of the millions of evacuees who had fled into the irradiated surroundings had survived, but by the end of the Second Robotech War, people and mutant birds with condorlike wingspans were finding their way back to the cracked and fissured towers, and the abandoned city slowly began to repopulate. Before the Invid arrived, hopes ran high that the city would rise once again to become the great center it had been in the previous century, but those plans were dashed with the aliens’ first wave. Still, the Regess saw no reason to destroy the place; she merely constructed one of her hives atop the tallest structure—the 1,675-foot Trump Building, which the hive encased like a wasps’ nest just short of its summit—and moved all potential troublemakers to nearby Protoculture farms. With Reflex Point at close proximity, the city’s residents (who numbered less than one-tenth of one percent of the city’s prewars population) posed no threat to the Regess’ domain, and Mannatan was one of the few places where her Controllers and bio-constructs actually patrolled the streets on foot.
Everyone was naturally eager to visit the city, but Scott was wary about all of them entering at once. He wasn’t sure just how closely the Regess had been monitoring their recent movements, but given the reappearance of the green-haired Human woman and the orange and green command ship, it seemed reasonable to assume that the team was still a high-priority concern at Reflex Point. And with access to the city limited to a single two-tiered bridge near the northern tip of the island, Scott was against taking any unnecessary risks. Lancer was the obvious choice for advance man because he had already seen the city—years ago, before the Invid invasion, when Mannatan was on the ascendant. Rand would serve as backup, and Annie would accompany them, if only to keep up appearances. The two men would carry hand blasters.
Scott’s intuitions proved correct, inasmuch as the Regess had indeed made elimination of the team one of her top priorities, especially since she had lost Ariel to them, and was noticing a certain reluctance on Sera’s part. But in some ways this was as intriguing to her as it was baffling—allowing her to recall her own attractions to Zor so long ago. So she elected to place Sera and Corg in temporary command of the city’s central hive to observe the results. She did this mostly because she had pressing concerns of her own at this point. The long-awaited trigger point of the Flower of Life was drawing near, but at the same time there was evidence of the imminent arrival of the Human forces who had battled her husband, the Regent, on Tirol and other worlds. And if they arrived before the Flowers came to full fruition, the entire scheme of the Great Work would be jeopardized.
Nine Urban Enforcers marching in a diamond-shaped formation were patrolling a quadrant in the lower part of the island city just now, an area where the towers were especially tall, making the sunless streets feel all the more narrow. Security had been breached earlier that same day; sensors had detected the presence of an unauthorized entry into the city and the energy signatures of Robotech mecha. Shock Troopers and Pincer Ships were hovering overhead, while Scouts covered the miles of waterfront.
“Urban Enforcer squadron,” boomed the Regess’ voice over the foot soldiers’ command net. “Proceed in formation to the East River, divide into units, and search all abandoned buildings for any sign of the rebels. They must not be allowed to slip through our grasp this time.”
The nine were huge cloven-foot, bipedal creatures outfitted in black-and-white battle armor, with rifle/cannons affixed to both forearm sheaths. Their smooth eyeless heads were almost comically small, almost dolphinlike beneath the helmets, with a single round scanner for a mouth—a red jewel in the elongated jaws of the helmet. Over what could have been the bridge of the leaders’ snout was an inverted triangular marking of rank.
Most of the residents had scattered from the streets and returned to their homes. Street stalls had shut down, and mongrel dogs were having a field day. There were two Humans, however, who made no move as the soldiers approached. They were hunkered down on the sidewalk, their backs to the wall of a ruined building, tattered clothing pulled tight around them, hats pulled low on their heads. Their temerity would have been suspicious had the pair not been representative of that class of Humans who had a penchant for street life and were often addicted to any number of intoxicating concoctions. Nevertheless, in light of the present emergency, one of the soldiers saw fit to stop and investigate the duo.
“Investigating Human life-forms …” the Invid told his superior, aiming a scanner. “Sensors indicate no active Protoculture, yet their lack of reaction warrants further observation.”
The squad stopped to have a look, but after a moment the leader made a dismissive gesture with its right arm. “Do not waste time with these derelicts.”
“But they do not fit the standard Human profile,” the soldier began to object.
“Do as I command,” the leader said more harshly. “These could hardly be the rebels we seek.”
As the soldiers moved off, a whispered and muffled voice rose through the clothing of one of the men. “Can we get up now? I can’t breathe—the kid’s smothering me in here!”
“Not yet,” said his companion, taking care to keep still. “Let them get a little farther down the street.”
Shortly, Lancer straightened up, removed the brown cap, and flashed a self-satisfied grin at the now deserted street. “Okay,” he said.
Beside him, Rand was in a panic. “Come on, Annie, open up the blanket! I’ve got about thirty seconds worth of air left!”
Lancer stood up in his tatterdemalion threads, while Annie tossed aside the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders. She had been sitting on Rand’s shoulders beneath the makeshift cape for the past ten minutes or so. Adroitly now, she leapt off him and removed her dark shades and gray fedora.
Behind her Rand was massaging circulation back into his score neck. “My head! Jeez, Annie, why couldn’t you have—”
“Lancer, I thought you said they called this place Fun City,” she complained, ignoring Rand. “Well, it’s been a pretty big disappointment so far! All we’ve done is dress up like bums and hide from the Invid. When do we get to have some real fun, huh?!”
“When are you gonna learn?” Rand said angrily, waving a fist over her head. “What d’ ya think, we’re in an amusement park or something? Remember what we’re here for.”
She made a face and stuck her tongue out at Rand.
Lancer had stripped off his costume and was back to his usual black trousers, tank top, and leather knee boots. “Knock it off,” he told Annie. “We have about fifty blocks to cover, so let’s move it.”
Burdette was right about the place being unguarded. There were a few Urban Enforcer troops stationed out front, but the trio had no problems getting around them and were soon in the basement of the building, closing on the duct system the Robotech officer’s map indicated would lead them to the main storage room. It was at this point that they were supposed to head back downtown to rendezvous with Scott, but Lancer insisted that they make certain the information was correct and follow through with the break-in without waiting for the diversions Rook and Lunk had planned.
Rand went along with the idea (Annie didn’t have to be convinced), and in a short while they were pushing out the grate of the duct that emptied into the Protoculture storage area itself. It was a dimly lit theater with an elaborate stage, but all it housed now were stacks and stacks of crated Protoculture canisters. Rand went over to one of the crates and pried open the lid.
“There’s enough here to take a whole army to Reflex Point!” he whispered excitedly, hefting one of the soda-can-sized fuel canisters.
“Provided we can get it out without being spotted,” Lancer said absently.
“Ha! Don’t worry about a thing, sir,” Rand began to joke. “Protoculture Express at your service! We deliver overnight or you get your money back.”
“Guaranteed!” Annie joined in. “In fact, if we don’t make good, we pay you!”
“Now all we’ve got to do is get back downtown and tell Scott about this,” Rand said. “Right, Lancer?… Lancer, are you okay?”
Lancer was glancing around the theater, amazed. “Sorry,” he said, turning to his teammates. “I was just thinking what a beautiful place this used to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is Carnegie Hall,” he explained with a sweep of his arm. “I guess it doesn’t mean much to you, but before the Robotech Wars this was one of the finest concert halls in the world. I remember reading about it. The people who used to sing here …” He smiled at the thought. “I used to dream of playing here. Now there isn’t much chance of that, I suppose.”
“Culture of a different sort,” Rand mused. “Maybe the Invid will start holding auditions, huh?”
Lancer ignored the ribbing and allowed himself a momentary fantasy that featured Yellow Dancer on stage, singing “Lonely Soldier Boy” to a packed house.…
I won’t let the Invid destroy my dreams! he promised himself.
It was that promise that enabled Lancer to justify going along with Rand’s spur of the moment plan to take what they could get their hands on straightaway rather than risk a second entry into the place. It also made sense from a practical point of view, because they would have enough fresh Protoculture to recharge the Beta and utilize it in a follow-up raid if it came down to that.
They were in the midst of packing away a few six-packs of the stuff when they heard loud footsteps echoing in the hall and headed in their direction. They had already secreted themselves among the maze of stacked crates when one of the Invid foot soldiers entered, seemingly on patrol.
“Keep under cover,” Lancer warned as they made themselves small. “We don’t want to fight it out if we don’t have to.” He and Rand had their handguns drawn. Annie was wide-eyed, trying to hold on to the armful of canisters she hadn’t had time to set down.
Lancer cautiously peered over the top of one of the crates. He could see the soldier moving systematically through the aisles formed by the stacks. “It may just be on an inspection tour,” he said softly. “It’ll probably go away if it doesn’t find anything wrong, but be ready, just in case.” Silently, he stole across the aisle and repositioned himself for cross fire.
Rand looked over at Annie and her precariously balanced load. “Try not to move. Don’t even breathe if you can help it!”
She shut her mouth tightly and rearranged the canisters as judiciously as she could, but there was one that insisted on sliding. She made a nervous sound.
The Enforcer stomped past their aisle and stopped, as though alerted to something. Rand drew a bead on the thing’s back. Here we go again, he told himself. Sitting ducks …!
The Invid began to move off, but Annie was suddenly desperate. “Rand, help me! They’re slipping—they’re gonna fall!”
And a moment later they did, hitting the floor with a sound of toppling bowling pins. Rand managed to stifle Annie’s scream with his hand, but the Enforcer had heard enough to warrant a second pass along the aisle.
“They slipped,” Annie explained in a panic after Rand took his hand away. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it—”
“Here comes trouble,” he interrupted her, arming the Gallant. “Just keep quiet.”
The Invid raised its rifle as it began to retrace its steps, but its pace remained unchanged. Lancer threw a quick nod to Rand and leveled his own weapon, wondering just where you had to hit these creatures to have it count. He chose the scanner as a likely target and bracketed it in his sights.
“Just a few steps closer,” Rand was whispering to himself when he heard the cat.
At least it sounded like a cat—a rather large cat at that. It growled twice more and then launched itself from wherever it had been perched. Rand went up on tiptoe and just caught a glimpse of the animal’s shadow as it leapt from stack to stack. It was even bigger than its growl had indicated! He could see that the Invid soldier had swung its snout to the sound and was also tracking the shadow now. The cat took a few more leaps, making one hell of a racket in the process.
Rand breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the Enforcer’s rifle begin to lower. Obviously it was satisfied that the animal had been responsible for the noise. It’s going to fall for it! he thought.
He let himself collapse in sheer nervous exhaustion when the Enforcer exited the room, and Annie came over to him thinking he had been hit or something. Then suddenly the cat was back, snarling a long meow and executing an incredible tumble from the box seats near the hall’s stage. Only now Rand was sure the thing wasn’t some ordinary cat.
And in fact it wasn’t: it was a young, curly-haired Hispanic boy wearing elbow pads, sky-blue dancer’s tights, pale yellow leg warmers, and a tank top emblazoned with a large 7.
“Well that was easy!” the boy laughed, one leg crossed over the other and hands behind his head after his upright landing.
“Have you been here the whole time?” Lancer said once he had gotten over his amazement.
The youth nodded. “That was my Persian. Wanna hear my Siamese now?”
Annie still didn’t get it. “You mean that was you? There wasn’t any cat?”
“Okay, so you do a good feline impression,” Lancer said warily, gesturing with his weapon. “What are you doing in here?”
The boy’s eyebrows went up. “What are you doing here is more like it, mano. As for me, I hang out here sometimes—but I know a lot of easier ins and outs than using the air ducts.”
“So you saw us,” said Rand. “Hope you’re not nursing any ideas about turning us in …”
The youth laughed again. “Wha’—for foraging a little ’Culture? Be real, Red. ’Sides, I’m no symp, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He motioned to Lancer’s blaster. “Look, I’m not complaining or anything, but how ’bout lowering the hard-tag?”
Lancer glanced down at the weapon and deactivated it.
“That cop’s gonna be making another pass pronto,” the youth warned. “We better make tracks, unless you’re dying to use your juice.”
Rand got up, his H90 casually aimed in the boy’s direction. “Lead on, Lightfoot,” he told him. “We’re right behind you.”
There were indeed quicker ways out of the place than the route they had taken in, and in a short time the youth was leading the trio down an east-west street a few blocks from the Carnegie Hall storage facility. The Protoculture canisters had been safely stashed away for the time being.
“I guess we owe you an apology and our thanks,” Lancer was saying. “What are you called?”
“Jorge,” the youth answered him. “I’ve got a nest in the balcony back there.”
“You can enter that place at will?” Rand asked, impressed.
Jorge turned a gleaming smile up at him. “Shit, man, there’s no place in this whole city we can’t go if we want to.”
“But the Invid—they’re crawling all over this place.”
“Yeah, but they don’t bother us if we don’t bother them.”
“That was some display you put on,” Lancer said, changing the subject. “You’re quite an acrobat.”
“A performer,” Jorge emphasized proudly. “Fact is I was on my way to rehearsal before I had to stop and save your necks.” He laughed at their chagrin. “Why don’cha come with me and check us out.”
Lancer looked over to Rand, who returned a shrug of consent.
“Well, I’m all for it,” said Annie, quick to take Jorge’s arm. “I’m gonna have some fun in this place if it kills me!”
“It should be a great show,” Jorge was telling them a few minutes later.
He and the rebel trio were on a staircase landing overlooking a small stage, where a dozen male and female dancers were executing syncopated martial kicks under colored lights. It was a kind of historical piece, harkening back to the frenzied, kata routines of the turn of the century, with some break dancing and pelvic thrusts thrown in for variety.
“They’re good,” Lancer commented. I wonder if their dreams will survive this alien nightmare?
But on stage some of the performers were wondering whether they would survive the director. He was nothing if not the consummate perfectionist. “Hold it! Stop! Stop!” he was shouting now, an effeminate curl to his voice. He was twice the age of the oldest on stage but well built nonetheless. He had a pencil-thin mustache and brown hair, save for a section of bleached forelock. “This is awful, just aw-ful. Harvey,” he continued, pointing, “I swear you dance like a moose in heat. And Arabella: You look like you’re waltzing, for heaven’s sake. Remember, everyone, this is supposed to be 1990, not 1770! So could we please try not to embarrass ourselves?”
The dancers had all adopted hangdog expressions by now, and Jorge took advantage of the lapse in the music to call out: “Simon! Hey! Up here!” When the director looked up, Jorge gestured to Lancer and the others. “I brought some friends to watch the rehearsal, okay?”
Simon scowled at him. “Absolutely not! You know my rules about people—” He broke off his scolding and was staring at Lancer. “Am I seeing things? Is that the face that launched a thousand slips?! Lancer, is that you?! Or should I say Yellow Dancer?”
Lancer smiled and went downstairs to take Simon’s hand. Jorge, Rand, and Annie tagged behind.
“Lancer, I still can’t believe it,” Simon exclaimed. “I’ve thought about you a lot.… What’s it been, something like two years? In Rio, wasn’t it? What are you doing here? I want to hear everything.”
Lancer looked over his shoulder at Rand. “Well, we’re just passing through.”
“Passing through?” Simon said, surprised. “Since when does anyone enjoy the privilege of ‘passing through’ anymore? You can’t be serious.”
“We’ve got transportation,” Lancer said, holding back.
Simon stepped back to regard the trio quizzically. “Perhaps it’s not in good taste to ask too many questions,” he said after noticing Rand and Lancer’s sidearms.
“Probably not.” Lancer smiled.
“Well, you’ve just got to come to the show tonight, that’s all there is to it,” Simon enthused.
“The Invid are permitting performances?” Lancer asked.
“They haven’t tried to stop us yet. I guess they figure it keeps the slaves happy and out of their way.”
Meanwhile, in the hive atop the Trump Building, Sera was engaged in an argument with her brother/prince, Corg. The Robotech rebels had not been located, and Corg was in favor of taking matters into his own hands by simply exterminating every Human in the city.
“I will not permit it,” Sera told him. “Observation of these life-forms has not yet been completed. They require more study, even if that means the rebels live for a time more.”
“Your lenience is a sign of weakness,” Corg answered her. “I say destroy them now.”
She glared down at him from the massive throne—a monolithic two-horned affair set atop what appeared to be a thick-stalked, flat-topped mushroom, adorned along its outer edge with a band of glossy red discs. Beneath the cap stood two Urban Enforcers, as silent and motionless as statues. The domed room itself resembled the inside of a living neural cell.
“You seem to forget our instructions, my brother. We are to study the Humans’ behavior patterns and learn from them.”
Corg made a disgruntled sound. “The experiment is as good as complete. It is time to exterminate these life-forms. I’ll proceed with my program, regardless of instructions.”
She knew that he had been defeated on every occasion and wondered whether this was influencing his behavior, but she didn’t want to point this out to him. “I’m warning you, Corg, do not challenge my authority in this matter. The Regess has placed me in charge.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“It’s perfectly obvious. You have no stomach for destruction. But you’ve known all along that our plan calls for the eradication of these creatures. And I intend to begin that process immediately.”
Corg disappeared through the floor of the hive even as Sera was ordering him to call off his attack. She reseated herself to digest his words.
Maybe he is right, she began to tell herself. Perhaps I don’t have the determination to carry out this task. She had to admit to herself that she had no grasp of the emotions that were keeping her from destroying the rebels—especially that one who had touched her with his voice. Surely she should have killed him when they had faced each other at the chasm. But she had let him live, and now Corg was beginning to suspect her. All at once it seemed imperative that she speak with Ariel, because in that brief confrontation with her lost sister she had come close to understanding some of the changes that were going on inside her.
Sera shot to her feet.
I must try to find her …!
Corg wasted no time assembling his Shock Troopers and commencing his murderous assault on the city’s Human population.
Across the Hudson River, where Scott and the rest of the team were awaiting word from Lancer, Marlene sensed the warlord’s destructive swing and screamed as those hellish emotions assailed her consciousness once again.
Scott was by her side in an instant. “Where?” he asked as he tried to comfort her. “Where are they attacking?”
“The city,” she managed to bite out, hands pressed to her head, body rocking back and forth in Scott’s arms. “They’re going to wipe out the entire city!”
“But you’ve got to be mistaken,” Scott started to say when the sound of the first explosions reached him. He grabbed a binocular scanner and ran to the edge of the roof that was their temporary camp. Training it on the city, he saw countless flashes of intense light, and within minutes it seemed that the entire northern portion of the island was ablaze.