Doomsday Page 12

  "I have some friends of yours here," Khyron was saying quite

  matter-of-factly.

  Gloval didn't have time to wonder to whom or to what Khyron was referring. Azonia had raised Lynn-Kyle into view, pinched by the scruff of the neck between her thumb and first finger. Khyron, too, raised his fist, shoving Minmei toward the remote camera. The singer looked pale and frightened.

  "Minmei!" Claudia said in surprise.

  "This can't be happening!" seethed one of the techs.

  Dropping his act of feigned indifference, Gloval pulled the pipe from his mouth. "You filthy swine!" he said to the screen image.

  "You're mad!" someone added.

  Khyron reacted by tightening his fist around his helpless captive, his face suddenly contorted in anger. "Don't try my patience, Micronian-I am known to have a violent temper!"

  The implication was obvious, and Gloval signaled everyone to remain calm. "We're sorry," he told Khyron.

  The Zentraedi laughed shortly. "Well, then, your apologies are humbly accepted. But listen to me carefully: I want you to know I mean business, Admiral."

  "We understand. What do you want?" "Don't hurt her-I beg you!" a tech shouted.

  Khyron smirked. "Then deliver the dimensional fortress to me tomorrow by twelve hundred hours."

  No one had expected this, least of all the admiral.

  "That's impossible! The fortress is no longer spaceworthy." "Don't lie to me, Admiral. I'm warning you..."

  "I'm not lying," Gloval told him firmly. "Listen to me for a moment...The war is over, Khyron. Dolza and his armada-"

  "The war is not over, Admiral!" Khyron threw at the screen. "Not until I have that fortress in my possession!"

  Gloval knew what was on his opponent's mind. "The Protoculture matrix doesn't exist," he tried calmly. "Ask Exedore and Breetai if-"

  Khyron was livid. "Those traitors are alive?!" Suddenly he laughed maniacally. "Just deliver the fortress to me, Admiral-if you value your little...songbird."

  "You are mad!" said Gloval.

  "Ah, but there's method to my madness," Khyron returned with a grin. "First, the fortress for Minmei. Then, the Robotech factory satellite for this second hostage." He gestured to Kyle, who was dangling by his coattails from Azonia's pinch.

  "Don't do it!" Kyle exploded. "Don't listen to them, Admiral!"

  "You mind your manners," Azonia said playfully, wiggling him about roughly.

  "It's too dangerous," Kyle managed, in obvious pain. "You can't...you can't just give in to this guy...

  "You're hurting him!" Minmei screamed.

  Khyron gestured to his consort to take it easy. "I'd of course prefer to avoid violence, Admiral. But believe me; I'm more than willing to carry out my threats."

  "I'm sure we can arrange something," Gloval answered him. In fact, he wasn't at all sure what could be arranged, but it was essential to start by buying time.

  "That's better." Khyron sneered.

  Just then a third officer entered the screen's field of view, a large, square-jawed man who deferentially tapped his commander on the shoulder.

  "Uh...excuse me..." said Grel.

  Khyron turned to him briefly, then back to Gloval. "I must take my leave now, Admiral. But remember: tomorrow by twelve hundred hours."

  He flashed a smile, V-ed his fingers, and cut off transmission.

  Gloval bowed his head and chided himself silently for believing that evil could so easily be laid to rest.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  When I first heard Khyron announce his demands for the SDF-1 in exchange for the hostages he'd taken, my fear was that his agents had actually penetrated our most top-secret operations. Then, when I realized that his request was more in the nature of a formality, I began to relax some. But the knowledge that he did in fact present a continued threat to our security made me reevaluate the plans I had so carefully formulated for the coming months.

  From the log of Admiral Henry Gloval

  Someone had thought to call the Denver hangar/theater "Zarkopolis"-as close a translation from the Zentraedi as the Micronian language allowed. The structure bore no resemblance to the original Zarkopolis-the Zentraedi mining base on Fantoma-but it was in keeping with the rekindled spirit of conquest to rename it thus.

  Cross-legged on a raised portion of the stage that had become their command post sat Khyron, Azonia, Grel, and Gerao. In attendance were several aides and shock troopers in full battle armor. Stationed in the vast hall below were troops of Khyron's elite strike force and half a dozen battlepods. Minmei stood bravely in the Backstabber's open palm; Khyron regarded her as though she were some zoological specimen.

  "It's hard to believe that this helpless little creature in my hand is the key to our freedom," he mused aloud. "To think they'd give up the fortress for you..." His closed his hand on Minmei. "This Micronian sentimentality-it makes me quite ill just to think about it!"

  Khyron got to his feet, striking an orator's pose.

  "Oh, to be free of this miserable planet!...I can hardly wait, I assure you..." He had turned his back on his audience and was once again eyeing Minmei, now on her knees in his open hand. "Well...why doesn't Minmei perform for us, eh?"

  He swung around again and extended his hand, a small stage for her act, almost forty feet off the ground.

  Minmei was quick to comply; in fact, she'd been waiting for just such an opportunity. Hers was the voice that had toppled a mighty empire, so surely a handful of disaffected warriors would present little problem. She feared and hated Khyron, but somewhere in the back of her mind endured the idea that she possessed the power to open his heart to love and peace.

  "To be in love..." she began, standing up and looking him in the eye. "...must be the sweetest feeling that a man can feel...To be in love, to live a dream..."

  Khyron's expression was softening. The giant hand that was sweeping her in front of a shocked and dumbfounded audience of hardened soldiers was shaking and sweating.

  "...with somebody you care about like no one else."

  Minmei was practically shouting out the lyrics now as choruses of groans and words of disbelief rose from Azonia and the others.

  Khyron's body was trembling; his eyes were rolled back in his head. "A special woman, a dearest woman..."

  And suddenly, his knees were buckling and he was down on the floor, seemingly ready to release her from his hold. Minmei started to step from his palm, singing: "...Who needs to share her life with you alone..." Without warning, he grabbed her again, a sly grin splitting his face as he squeezed the song and breath from her.

  "Well, it was a brave attempt, Minmei. But unfortunately for you, as you can see, I am immune to your witchcraft."

  "You had me fooled!" Azonia laughed, her hand to her mouth.

  But Khyron silenced her. "I am speaking to my little songbird." He looked hard at Minmei. "And she's going to help us get what we want, isn't that so, my little pet?"

  Minmei flailed about in his hand, struggling to free herself. "I won't help you-you big overgrown...clown!"

  Khyron faked a look of hurt. "That was not very nice, Minmei...In fact,

  I'm rather surprised at you-losing your temper like that. Very unladylike." Minmei folded her arms in defiance, fighting back tears.

  "I may have to teach you some manners," her captor was threatening, his anger building, his grip on her tightening. "You think that just because you're the magnificent Minmei, you're better than we are...Well, I despise your music! Despise it! Do you hear me?!"

  She could no longer breathe. Khyron was ranting and raving, and she was rapidly losing touch with the world. Blackness circled in on her from the edges of her vision, silencing thoughts and fears alike.

  Khyron felt her go limp in his hand. and realized he had gone too far. Azonia was shouting at him to be careful, but he was certain he'd already overstepped himself.

  "Cosmos! What have I done?!"

  Minmei was unmoving in his hand, deathly still. "She enrag
ed me so, I forgot how important she was to our plan..." Gently, he poked at her with his finger, hoping she'd revive; and in a moment she did, dazed and possibly hurt but certainly nowhere near dead. Khyron acknowledged his relief with a smile.

  "She's all right," he told Azonia. "They're well-built little things."

  Azonia had picked up Kyle and was now holding him by one foot and one arm, twisting him about as though he were made of pipe cleaners. Kyle was far less important to the plan, so she wasn't concerned about breaking him up a bit.

  Kyle, on the other hand, felt differently about it, and it was only his many years of martial-arts training that kept him from suffering major dislocations. The blue-haired Amazon seemed hell-bent on reconfiguring him like some sort of mannikin mecha.

  She joked: "Surely this is as much fun for you as it is for me!"

  And Kyle could only hope he would see the day when she micronized herself; because if he lived through this, there was going to be a score to settle.

  Admiral Gloval called an emergency session with his chiefs of staff following Khyron's transmission, which had been traced to New Denver. They had less than twelve hours to decide on a course of action. Claudia Grant, General Motokoff from G3, and several officers from various departments of the RDF were gathered around a long table in the SDF-2 briefing room. Exedore, still aboard the factory satellite, was in communication with them via comlink; his image appeared on one of the monitors.

  "The situation is without precedent," Motokoff was saying. He was a young man in spite of his rank, former head of the CD forces aboard the SDF-1 during its two-year ordeal in space. "Since the Zentraedi have never taken hostages before, we have no way of knowing if they'll make good their promises."

  Gloval drew at his pipe, nodding. "Or their threats," he told the table. "May I respond to that, Admiral?" Exedore said from the screen.

  "Go ahead, Exedore," said Gloval.

  The Zentraedi looked squarely into the remote camera. "Khyron will make good his threats, of this I can assure you. Lord Breetai concurs with me that this hostage taking suggests he has gone beyond the bounds of his Zentraedi conditioning, which would have rendered such an act unthinkable. There is no telling how far he is willing to go now. But I must caution you not to accede to his demands under any circumstances. Lord Breetai wishes me to inform you that he is at your service should you require him in settling this most unfortunate matter."

  Gloval took the pipe from his mouth and inclined his head. "That will not be necessary, Exedore, although you may convey my appreciation to the commander. Your people have already spent far too many years acting as a police force. We won't ask you to fight our battles for us."

  "I understand, Admiral," Exedore said evenly.

  One of the officers stood up to address Gloval. "I agree with Breetai, Admiral. Putting the SDF-1 into Khyron's hands would be an act of suicide!" The officer had gotten himself so worked up that the pencil he was holding

  snapped in his hands.

  "Calm down," Gloval told him gruffly. "I have no intention of giving in to his demands."

  "I hope you're not suggesting that we ignore Khyron's threats to Kyle and Minmei," said Claudia.

  "No," everyone was quick to say.

  "We're all in agreement on that, sir," said another officer. "But this is a blatant act of terrorism, and we must refuse to bargain with him."

  Claudia nodded in agreement.

  Gloval cleared his throat. "For two years now the Zentraedi have lived with us as equals. And in that time we have all come to know many of them as friends and allies. Khyron took advantage of this by infiltrating his spies into our cities." We have no way of knowing who they are or where they might be."

  "I don't see what bearing this has on the problem, Admiral," Motokoff interjected.

  Gloval made a dismissive gesture. "I'm coming to that. We don't know who our enemies are, but we do know our friends..." The chiefs of staff waited for him to finish. "So, I suggest we use the Zentraedis to trick him, as he used them to trick us."

  "Commander Hunter, engage your scrambler," Lisa said over the net from field headquarters.

  The Skull had been ordered out of the deserted Zentraedi base where the arms cache had been discovered. In minutes the place was going to be a memory, thanks to the explosive charges they had set to self-destruct.

  "Engaging voice scrambler for encoded transmission, control," Rick radioed back after tapping in a series of commands on the Veritech's console.

  He had been expecting new orders since word had been received that Khyron was responsible for the attack on New Detroit. Unlike Gloval, Rick saw no reason to doubt that Khyron had survived the Zentraedi holocaust.

  Khyron had always been the most self-serving of the lot; he was a born survivor, and it was not unlike him to go in hiding for two years-to stage his own resurrection. Rick recalled the many times he had faced Khyron in battle; without adequate proof, he blamed Khyron for Roy Fokker's death. And as anxious as he felt about a renewed contest, one part of him was actually looking forward to it.

  Lisa wasn't sure she wanted to break the news to him about Minmei, but orders were orders. "Operation Star-Saver," the High Command was calling it.

  "It looks like it's going to be a tough one, this time," Claudia had told her. "But you, you lucky devil, you'll be coordinating for Commander Hunter once again. "

  Somehow Claudia had missed the point: Rick was being ordered to save Minmei-again! How much longer was fate going to build these rescues into their relationship? Lisa wondered. Just when the singer was no longer a threat to what little happiness Lisa and Rick shared, another crisis would present itself.

  "And why was it that Rick is called to respond to every crisis?" she had asked Claudia, not really expecting a response and certainly not having to be reminded that Rick was the best there was.

  That was why she wanted him.

  "Good to hear your voice again, Lisa," Rick was saying. Lisa sucked in her breath and decided to take the plunge.

  "Rick," she began. "Your team is to report back to New Macross for special orders. Khyron has kidnapped, ah, two...people. He's holding them hostage in New Denver for the return of the SDF-1."

  "That's insane! The fortress isn't even airworthy, is it?" "Of course not. But-"

  "Man, somebody really must have slipped some elephant juice into the punch bowl when that guy was cloned...And since when do the Zentraedi take hostages?"

  "Since Khyron got back to town."

  him.

  "So who'd he grab? Lynn-Kyle, if it's my lucky day."

  Lisa raised her eyes to the domed ceiling. "It's your lucky day," she told

  She heard his gasp, then: "Who's the second person, Lisa? Give it to me

  straight."

  Make it short and sweet, she told herself, and said: "Minmei. Khyron attacked a club in-"

  "Where are they?!"

  Lisa stiffened at her station. He'd fly to the sun and back, she said to herself. But to Rick, she cautioned: "There is no place for amateur heroics on this mission, Commander."

  Rick went silent, and it was too late for her to take it back.

  "Uhh, really?" he said after a moment, cold as ice. "I wasn't aware that amateur heroics were my stock in trade."

  Lisa fumed, her face coloring. The woman tech at the adjacent station was staring at her as if assessing her professionalism. "That is all! Out!" she hollered, and slammed her palm down on the comlink button.

  Four hours later, Skull Team was assembled on the flight deck of the Prometheus; they had been briefed and were ready for action.

  Lisa, also recalled to New Macross, was braving the cold evening winds to wish Rick well. She couldn't bear the thought of his going off into combat while that foolish argument remained unresolved. But he wasn't helping her out at all, clinging to his anger.

  "Please be careful, Rick," she called up to Skull One's cockpit. "Khyron will stop at nothing, you know that."

  Rick stopped on the
top step of the Veritech's ladder and turned to her, "thinking cap" in place. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but we've been over the operation, and I know what I have to do."

  "That's not what I'm talking about," she said as he climbed in. "I'm just afraid you'll lose your objectivity and do something rash..."

  Again her words brought him to a halt, but this time he leaped from the

  Veritech and strode toward her. "Rick-"

  "Yes. I love her very much-I won't lie to you, Lisa. I've never tried to conceal that from you. But I settled my feelings about her a long time ago. Minmei and I can never be together...I'm flying this mission as a pilot."

  "And you're a fine pilot, Rick. Just don't lose your perspective, that's all.

  If anything happened-"

  "I'm, commanding an entire squadron, Lisa! Do you think I'd jeopardize their safety just because of my feelings for Minmei?!"

  "Emotions are so compelling..." she said, averting her eyes. "I just can't be sure..."

  Rick struck a challenge pose, gloved fists on his hips. "What? You can't be sure of what?!"

  She lowered her head. "It's nothing...Forget I said anything. "

  Rick put his hands on her shoulders. "Look, I'll be back," he said, hoping to put her at ease. He didn't even know why they were going at each other like this. Two hostages: It didn't matter who they were...

  "Good luck," Lisa said as he walked away.

  In celebration of his imminent victory, Khyron had emptied the coffers of the last remaining Zentraedi foodstuffs and provisions-bottles of Garudan ale and sides of yptrax from Haydon VI, too long in the freeze-dry bins. Most of the Zentraedi subsisted on chemical nutrients, but Khyron had always strived to individualize himself. To be unique in all things. He respected the Micronians' taste for organic food; it was only fitting that life feed on death, as death fed on life...

  Khyron toasted their success, took a long pull from the bottle of ale, and refilled Azonia's glass. She was on the floor to the left of Khyron's improvised throne-an enormous storage crate turned on its side-Grel, a drumstick of meat in hand, to the right.