World Killers Page 14

  The core group of the Sentinels were in favor of roasting him alive, or at least putting a leash and exploding collar back on him, but the very bylaws of the Sentinels, and of Haydon militated against that. And so, when the Sentinels came together to deliberate on their next move, Tesla had his say.

  "My people are a peaceful race; who can deny this? Did we not live in tranquility for a million eons, until outsiders taught us crime and sin and hate? As the Regent and Regis were deranged by this experience, so have our rulers warped the Invid.

  "Have I myself not committed murder most foul for your cause? I, who never raised a hand in violence to any living thing before in my life? But as you are willing to wage war for peace, so I have done in my own way."

  There were angry faces all around the new conference hall that had been raised by Robotech mecha and Haydonite science there in the ruins of Glike. Many glowered and murmured, but there was no arguing the facts. Janice Em, wearing the aspect of her android self as she sometimes did these days, looked over at Rem to see his reaction, wondering what the opinion of the genetic heir of Zor would be. Rem's face was resolutely unrevealing.

  As for Breetai, he was studying Janice Em and wondering about Lang's motives in creating her. Fortunately for the android and her creator, the Sentinels seemed to regard her as their ally and comrade in arms, rather than as some REF version of the simulagent.

  Tesla's strange new mouth, almost doll-like, formed his words with an uncanny grace and lilt.

  "But my people deserve a chance to redeem themselves and make restitution!" Tesla pressed on. "I have had a chance to learn peace and restraint and love in my time among the Sentinels, and-"

  Here his voice broke in calculated fashion and he made a show of holding back tears. "Destroy the Regent and the Regis, yes! But return to us the Flower of Life, or give us whatever world upon which the Flower choses to prosper. And then we will be the harmless, inward-turning, compassionate Invid of old. A thousand generations of genetic heritage call out to us to be so! And if Fate grants it, I would take humble pleasure in making my small contribution to the Destiny of my species.

  "We were given life, as you were! Let us live!" That subject was tabled for the time being, but the Sentinels leadership exchanged troubled looks. Tesla might be a complete moron militarily, but he was a consummate politician.

  Maybe the two go hand in hand, Rick thought, reflecting back to Senator Russo and his ilk on Earth.

  Other matters came to the fore and were more quickly and decisively dealt with.

  Breetai argued strongly that all the Sentinels, liberated Praxians included, should return to Tirol to fight Edwards's scurrilous charges. It looked like he would carry the question, not through guile or politicking, but simply through the force of his conviction.

  Rick looked around, wondering who was going to muster the counterargument. But he remembered that Baldan of Spheris was dead, and Teal, the other leading Spherisian, was still closeted and caring for Baldan's death-growth. The only notable Perytonian, Burak, had been silent and impossible to talk to ever since the Garudan campaign,

  somehow under Tesla's spell.

  And Spheris and Peryton were the last two worlds on the Sentinels' tactical charts, the last two from which the Invid must be uprooted. Rick scanned the room and realized that there were few Spherisians-and none who would speak-and no Perytonians at all, aside from silent Burak.

  Rick was as surprised as anyone when he heard himself address the assembly.

  "I've fought against Great Breetai and alongside him, and in all this time, to my recollection, I've never actually found the nerve to contradict him."

  At that comment, there were rumblings of laughter from the Zentraedi, seated like Norse gods in immense chairs around the walls of the room. Kazianna put her hand on Breetai's shoulder, and Breetai placed his hand on hers but kept his attention on Rick Hunter. Size meant nothing in the arena of debate, and Breetai, as canny as any Borgia or Caesar, knew that.

  "We congratulate ourselves for the work we've done, as we should," Rick went on. "But what about Spheris? And Peryton? Things there are as bad as they were here on Haydon IV, don't you think? Or maybe worse?

  "So the choice is between going on to end the misery the Invid are inflicting on those planets, or going back to clear our names. Well, here's my vote: I have to live with the memories of what I do, or don't do, not what people say about me. I say we go on, and Edwards be damned."

  He resumed his seat amid an almost equal mix of cheers and objections. But Lisa was looking at him with a peculiar cant to her chin.

  No more barnstorming, live-for-today, seat-of-the-pants daredevil, she thought. He's someone else now, like we all are. Older but wiser. And yet he was arguing the cause he had argued against before, when Burak wanted to turn the timetable upside down. A sense of fairness, maybe.

  Lisa reached over beneath the table and gave her husband's hand a squeeze. Rick looked a little startled, then gave her a squeeze back.

  After the lesser questions were resolved, the session settled into a collision between the two factions. Breetai's point was a valid one, even a frightening one: if Edwards got control of the council and undermined Lang's authority, the general might wrest control of the new fleet of space-fold ships. That in turn could make him unstoppable.

  But there were many who felt as Rick did, having fought the Invid oppression on several

  worlds now. Among the most determined of these were the freed Praxian slaves.

  The dispute cut across lines of species, gender, and even family, however. The goliath voices of the Zentraedi and the roars of the Karbarrans and the objections of the Humans and the other races' outcries threatened to turn the debate to a riot.

  Rick had barely spoken since his first statement. But when it seemed the Sentinels were about to lose their sense of purpose and revert to sheer quarreling, he rose again.

  "Um, I don't see where there's anything we can do but compromise. Someone has to answer Edwards's charges, and someone has to fight for Spheris and Peryton, now!"

  He dipped into his pocket and pulled out a good-luck piece, a Kennedy half-dollar his father had given him. "What d'you say, Breetai? I'd trust you with either mission. Heads, you go to Spheris and I face Edwards?"

  He showed both sides of the coin, to prove there was no fix.

  Breetai had eased off his chair to kneel by the table. His face cracked wide in the first true smile he had allowed himself in some time. Breetai held out his palm, as big as a desktop. "Flip it here, Rick Hunter."

  Rick did. Breetai caught it, clapping his palms together, and opened his hands again to show them all. It was tails.

  There would be plenty to do tomorrow, but for the time being, everyone needed an adjournment.

  When all the others were dispersed and they were strolling under strange constellations, Kazianna Hesh took Breetai's hand. "It's not the outcome you looked for, I know, my love, but still I think it's not an unfair one."

  "Perhaps. But I tell you this: Edwards will be stopped, even if I have to do it alone."

  She kissed his cheek. "Breetai, you will never face any danger alone again-not while I draw breath."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The military scholars missed the point entirely. Max and Miriya, indisputably the greatest Robotech warriors of all, were serving the source of their prowess by laying down their arms for a time. Life made them do it-the life growing within the onetime Quadrono

  commander, fathered by her erstwhile enemy. Life, triumphing over death.

  Theresa Duvall, Wingmates: the Story of Max and Miriya Sterling

  The work to rebuild Glike and repair damage done to other parts of the planet during the terrible clash between Inorganics and antibodies had begun literally while the dust was still settling.

  If Haydon IV's world-size instrumentality had been intact, it could have accomplished the rebuilding at a miraculous rate. But much of that inst
rumentality was either disabled or obliterated or completely exhausted. The Haydonites threw themselves into the job with a religious fervor, though, and they had help.

  The tens of thousands of freed Praxians were among the most willing to help. The warrior women were a homeless race now that their own planet had been destroyed in the upheavals following the Invid conquest and Genesis Pit experiments. Many thought sparsely populated Haydon IV might offer them a fresh start.

  It was plain that Arla-Non longed to lead her amazons on a holy war against the Invid, but since only a few could go along on Ark Angel, it was the queen's duty to stay with the majority of her subjects, to guide and govern them. Arla-Non expressed every faith in Bela, though, and confirmed that in rituals that the Praxians barred all outsiders from attending.

  The contingent that would return to face Edwards's charges before the council was led by Breetai, along with Vince Grant and Jonathan Wolff. While many of the Diamondback and Joker REF fighters wanted to volunteer for service to fill the depleted ranks of the Sentinels fliers, that was voted down. If Edwards made his power play, it might require every loyal pilot in the REF to put down a coup.

  Jean Grant, like Max Sterling, refused to leave the planet as long as Miriya was still in a coma and unable to be moved. Miriya had stabilized, but the outlook was still bleak. Nevertheless, Jean had immersed herself in learning the healing arts of the Haydonites, blending them with her own in the hope of curing Miriya.

  Cabell had wavered, thinking that he could be of some help if he stayed, but the others said his insights to the functioning of Protoculture and Robotechnology might be more important than ever in the battles ahead. He spent a night closeted alone with his thoughts, and announced in the morning that he would be remaining behind. Rick thought that the old sage had sensed something important about Miriya's situation, but Cabell refused to talk about his motives.

  As for Max, he decided that rather than simply sitting and waiting, he would devote himself to the effort to rebuild the planet.

  "I'm sure Jean and Cabell and the Haydonites can make her well again," Max told Rick as the Sentinels prepared to depart for Spheris. "You'll see. By the time we're set for the final assault on Optera, I'll be back in a VT and so will Miriya."

  "I know you will," Rick said with conviction he didn't really feel. "We can't have you guys missing out on the grand finale."

  The two shook hands and Lisa kissed Max's cheek. Soon, the SDF-7 class cruiser was lifting off. Gaps in the rank and file of their fighters had been filled by several hundred amazon volunteers, but in Rick's opinion the force was still woefully inadequate in terms of media.

  Originally, production facilities on Karbarra and-it had been hoped-Haydon IV were to have kept the Sentinels' complement of war machines at full strength. But production problems had arisen on Karbarra: a fundamental inability of the Invid-designed manufacturing equipment to turn out satisfactory Earth-style mecha, no matter what adjustments the Karbarrans tried. As for Haydon IV, it simply wouldn't have media-production capability soon enough to be of any use.

  But Sentinels' mecha had played very little part in freeing Haydon IV and, from all reports, would be even less useful on Spheris. Time would tell: Rick and Lisa were anxious to survey the situation on Spheris, at the very least, as soon as possible. Like many of their companions, they now grew frustrated and ill at ease in between blows against the Invid empire.

  T.R. Edwards knew a particular triumph as the special council meeting convened. There was only one item on the agenda: Edwards's renewed request for martial law and what amounted to emergency dictatorial powers. To the general's vast satisfaction, Lang and the other opposition had been either unable or unwilling to block the meeting.

  At Edwards's urging, the entire session was being transmitted over the Base Tirol public-information channel. He was gambling that, in addition to winning over the council, he could get the subordinate officers and noncoms and enlisted ratings of the REF to hail him as well, paving the way for his eventual takeover.

  Now Edwards made his case again, complete with charts and display-screen aids. The excuse this time was that Edwards promised he could squeeze more monopole ore from Fantoma if the military was given complete run of the operation, up to and including drafting Tiresian laborers. Lang and Dr. Penn didn't even seem to be inclined to dispute the facts and figures Edwards's people trumped up, and Exedore had not even deigned to attend.

  All was going well when the wrist communicator on Lang's forearm toned. He sent an

  acknowledging signal through it and waited politely for Edwards to finish. But before the vote could be called, Lang got the floor. "My colleague, Lord Exedore, informs me that my communications center has received a signal that is of central importance in this issue."

  With that, Exedore's face appeared in the central screen, a billboard-size panel that dominated one end of the council chambers. "Here is the transmission received just a short time ago."

  Before Edwards could object, a familiar and, to Edwards, despised face-as handsome as a media star's-appeared. "This is Colonel Jonathan Wolff, transmitting from the bridge of the REF vessel Valivarre. With me are Commander Vince Grant and Lord Breetai. We have with us all the monopole ore that was mined on Fantoma.

  "Escorting us are the SDF cruisers Tokugawa and Jutland, which accompanied us on operations involved in the liberation of the planet Haydon IV from Invid domination. It is our intention to turn over the monopole ore to Dr. Lang's production facility and to answer the charges being made against us and other Sentinels.

  "All we ask is that the council now, by public vote, insure us the fair hearing to which we are entitled by the REF Code of Military Justice and by United Earth Government law. Members of the council, we await your word."

  Wolff's expression softened a bit. "You're our friends, our comrades in arms-some of you are our loved ones. We haven't played you false." He showed just a touch of that debonair smile of his.

  Lang was back on his feet as the message ended. "They won't have to wait long for my decision! I say yes, let these people have their fair and public hearing!"

  When the question was called, Justine Huxley, Obstat, Rheinehardt, and others opposed to Edwards were quick and loud in their vote of support. Edwards's faction on the council did some grumbling, but most either abstained or went with the momentum of the opposition. Few were inclined to deny the Sentinels due process in a role-call vote. Also, they all knew how critical the monopole ore was.

  Edwards had gone white with anger. That blithering idiot, the Regent! Why hadn't he warned me that this might happen?

  For that matter, why hadn't Edwards's own communications-intercept people discovered this plot? It pointed to the possibility that Lang was aware of the technical eavesdropping Edwards's organization was doing, and had exploited it to his, Lang's, advantage, lulling Edwards and then using some unknown "back channel" of contact with Breetai.

  This was a major setback, and one piped through the orbiting SDF-3 as well as all of the

  REF installations on Tirol-Edwards was rocked physically by a sudden realization. Wolff's face and voice had gone out over the PI channel!

  Minmei's jailers had turned some switch that activated the telescreen built into the wall of her cell just as T.R. Edwards made his triumphant entry to the council chambers. The screen, installed in the cells for interrogation, agitprop, and "motivational" purposes, had always been dark before.

  Minmei watched Edwards's performance with a trapped animal's dumb despair. The appearance of Jonathan Wolff convinced her that she had at last lost every shred of sanity.

  But it was too real, too vivid, to be a dream or hallucination. She slowly rose from her narrow bunk, crossing the little cell, and touched her fingertips to the screen. Tears washed her cheeks.

  She heard his words, "You're...our loved ones. We haven't played you false." Minmei closed her eyes and pressed her lips to Wolff's lips on the screen, sobbing
.

  She had been shut away in her quarters on the Ark Angel all through the Haydon IV campaign, unable to break away from her own private struggle.

  At her request, the ship's techs and artisans had made the compartment as much an imitation of her crystal world as they could with mirrors, prisms, and fanciful formations that suggested underground strata. There, Teal of Spheris labored over the brilliant, multifaceted form that was all that remained of her fellow Spherisian, Baldan.

  Teal had refused to touch or even look at it at first, after Baldan was trapped in his merging with the geological substance of Praxis. Baldan had been a fellow prisoner of hers, in the clutches of the Invid, nothing more! To touch the thing that had looked like a football-size crystal meant taking on responsibility for it, and meant entering a rapport with Baldan's essence that would make them mates.