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  It wasn't fair! Teal had no desire to be responsible for a child or be in rapport with Baldan. She had never asked to be involved in this mad Sentinels crusade! Teal had her own plans, her own life to live.

  And yet, when she had stood looking down at it, Teal had known that if she failed to carry out the rite of Shaping, Baldan would pass away forever and the egg would lose the forces of life it carried. With strange tears in her transparent eyes, she took up her ceremonial blade and began Shaping.

  And she stayed at it all through the voyage, and the battle on Haydon IV, when the SDF-7 flagship could do little but hold its station. Teal laboriously calculated each cut and guided the newly-carved Spherisian in its growth. It was a trial as taxing as any gestation period or rite of passage. But at last, near the end of her strength, Teal looked upon a healthy adolescent male who was the image of Baldan and still growing quickly.

  She wasn't surprised when Bela, returning from Praxis, requested entry to her compartment. It was Bela, along with Miriya Sterling, who had returned to the Praxian caverns to retrieve the egg when Teal refused to. Bela who, absurdly, had threatened to raise the child herself, when the amazon hadn't the first idea about Humanoid children, much less creatures of living mineral.

  Teal granted permission to enter. Bela, usually rowdy and often gruff, was subdued and tentative. But when she looked down on the child, she was aglow. "But-why are his eyes closed? Why does he not move?"

  "He has been regaining the knowledge that Baldan left behind in him," Teal explained. "And preparing himself for true birth. I waited, hoping you and Miriya could both be here."

  Teal explained what must be done. Each took one of the statuelike figure's cold hands, kneeling by him. Where a Spherisian parent would ordinarily have done so alone, Teal had the Praxian lean close, their heads together, so that they could both breathe upon the child's mouth together.

  Once, twice-and on the third, a strange aura of blue radiance leapt from Teal's mouth to the infant's. Bela felt the odd sensation of Spherisian life-force stirring about and through her.

  The cold hands tingled now, not with heat so much as with animating force. Some eldritch piezoelectric effect, Bela wondered? The fingers were no longer stiff, but supple in the manner of living crystal. Bela's Praxian eyes, like those of a bird of prey, grew wide, watching the boy's eyes flutter open.

  "Wh-what have you called him?"

  Teal held her son's hand in her own. "I call him Baldan. Baldan II. I couldn't bear to name him anything else."

  She sighed. "Love is so inconvenient."

  Veidt had also insisted on coming along on the continuation of the mission, saying that Haydon IV held too many sad memories. No one had any objections, but every other Haydonite had elected to stay behind and rebuild the planet. Rick suspected Veidt

  preferred it that way.

  Getting the new Praxian recruits squared away was something the Hunters felt safe in delegating to Gnea, Bela, and the other amazon veterans, plus ship's officers. The couple managed to get free of other official responsibilities after the initial confusion and returned at long last to the quarters they shared.

  Rick leaned his head back against the hatch once it closed. "A lo-oong day at the beach, babe." Lisa chortled tiredly and nodded.

  They hadn't been there since the start of the Garudan mission; it was odd to be back in the quiet, by the bed they had shared too long a time ago.

  A change was apparent in Lisa. Though she still wore the body-suit uniform of the REF, her damaged government-issue boots had been replaced with a pair of Praxian footgear, like over-the-knee moccasin wrappings, of soft hide resembling chamois. Her long hair was held back with a knotted band of crimson, satiny fabric Bela had given her.

  She also wore a weapons belt around her hips, with a pistol tied down to one thigh and a long Praxian fighting knife to the other. Many Sentinels wore sidearms as a matter of course, but this was something new in Lisa.

  In fact, Rick was packing, too. "We're a little overdressed, aren't we?" he asked, unbuckling his gunbelt.

  His piratical-looking wife gave him a heavy-lidded gaze. "Well, surely some up-and-coming young Robotech admiral can figure out an appropriate plan of action to solve that problem, can't he?"

  He smiled. "Haven't you heard? Night maneuvers are a Hunter specialty."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  He had his own personal bestiary of unacceptable words, and chief among them was "defeat."

  Constance Wildman, When Evil Had its Day: A Biography of T.R. Edwards

  Spheris presented a complicated skein of problems unlike those of any other Invid-held planet on the Sentinels' hit list.

  "We can't take any Protoculture weapons down there," Teal explained at a strategy meeting. "To do so would mean disaster."

  "What're we supposed to fight 'em with, spit?" somebody groused from the sidelines.

  Teal looked around toward the source of the voice, her eerie transparent eyes flashing. "Spheris is a planet of crystal structures," she snapped. "Protoculture-weapons emissions evoke certain harmonics from the very texture of my homeworld. Fire a beam and you're very likely to find that it will come back to hit you. Or it could sunder some of the delicate latticework that makes up the planet, and cause great death and destruction among my people."

  "Hold, hold," Lron grumbled. "How then do the rattering Invid operate? Do they not use mecha?"

  Teal nodded. "As I said in the intel debriefing, Protoculture-based mecha do no damage, because they're not as focused, as concentrated, as a weapons beam. But even the Invid dare not use weapons actuated by Protoculture, and so they employ a variety of conventional armaments. But those armaments are very effective."

  "So are ours," Bela put in, casually flicking her thumb across the razor edge of her shortsword. She was also wearing a Badger assault pistol and a few grenades to complement her Praxian arms.

  Others seconded what she had said: the Karbarrans with their pneumatic long-guns; the Garudans who had taken so quickly to REF conventional infantry weapons; Jack and Karen, who had seen for themselves that Invid could be hurt or stopped with projectile firearms if those firearms were used just right.

  "You're not listening!" Teal barked. "The Invid will have the advantage in firepower. So, we must exploit our advantages to the fullest. And the Sentinels' main advantage is my and Baldan's access to the Crystal Highways."

  With this Teal put her hand on the shoulder of her son, Baldan II. He sat by her side, gazing around at the Sentinels gathered at the meeting table and standing in ranks around it.

  In mere weeks, he had grown until he was nearly his mother's height, a broad-shouldered, lean-waisted, post-adolescent wearing a loincloth. People had simply taken to calling him by his father's name, leaving out the numerical. Talking to him, Lisa had found, was uncannily like talking to the original Baldan at times, but at others it was like conversing with a newborn.

  "But you won't be going in blind," Teal said. "My son and I will descend first, to scout the way and ferret out our enemy's weaknesses."

  There were some low-decibel remarks when the gathering heard that. Teal had never

  been very enthusiastic about the Sentinels' war-had stayed out of most of the fighting with a demeanor that had won her the nickname "Permafrost Princess."

  But here was the Permafrost Princess, in the wake of Baldan's death and a motherhood she had detested at first, ready to take her son down on a first-in team op. Ready to lay her life and her son's, most emphatically, on that well-known line.

  Rick rose now, in the midst of a lot of murmured debate among those present. "We have to apply everything we've learned to beat the Invid, because they've had us outgunned and outnumbered at every turn. Now, the subject populations of the planets we've liberated have always worked in our favor, and they've tipped the balance at least twice, maybe three times. So our most important trump cards here are Teal and Baldan.

  "They will be
delivered to the surface of Spheris by a stealth-insertion drop capsule and employ their innate skills to merge with the Crystal Highways. They will gather information and attempt to raise popular resistance, while we hold station and wait.?

  "They will communicate the results to us and coordinate our assault. If anyone has objections to this general outline, I want to hear them now."

  Moments passed', while the Sentinels looked at one another and at Teal and Baldan II. But no one spoke.

  Baldan, for his part, looked over to where Karen Penn was sitting with some of the younger REF turks along the sidelines. He had already heard of her deeds; his mother was rather taken with them. Karen was talking with Gnea and another young amazon. She suddenly looked up to meet Baldan's gaze, and he turned his face away, a radiance rising in his cheeks for no reason he could understand.

  Rick Hunter was still speaking.

  "You all know the tactical importance of this planetary objective. The Invid have found a way to mass-synthesize their nutrient fluid here-the best they have. Apparently, it's like high-octane to them. If we can cut off that supply, we'll be nailing the lid on their coffin."

  He looked over to where Burak sat, at the edge of the shadows. The thing that was Tesla, the thing that made every Sentinel uneasy no matter how it protested its faith to their cause, had failed to appear for the planning session.

  "And so at last we will have crippled their sources of new mecha"-Rick ticked off on his fingers-"their sources of new technology, their shipyards and their life-support supply line. We'll be set up for the campaign on Peryton."

  Burak looked up suddenly at the mention of his home-world, like a thief surprised in the

  act. Rick met his gaze and wished he knew what was going on in the young buck's head.

  One thing was apparent to everyone. Armageddon lay ahead, and not too far off.

  There was almost a firefight between the REF factions.

  Edwards was determined to have a face-to-face with Lang, but the security people at Lang's enormous complex refused entry to the convoy of limos, armored vehicles, and troop carriers. The Ghost Veritechs flying high cover were warned away on pain of getting their tails shot off, and no one was inclined to test the perimeter defenses of the Robotech sorcerer.

  It was an open secret among Humans, and Tiresians as well, that battle lines were being drawn for a contest of wills and/or a power play in the REF. The surviving Ghost Riders and quite a few others beside were rallying to Edwards's banner, but as many and more were standing by Lang and the council members who were in accord with him.

  In addition to Lang's own security force there were Jokers and Diamondbacks, people from the technical and support units, Destroid types from the Old Ironsides and Walking Steel squadrons, and infantry doggies like the men and women from Hell's Hoplites.

  Many were still straddling the fence, though, and Edwards's forces were organized, highly disciplined and motivated, and loyal to him alone. He and his opposition had one another in an uneasy stalemate, but everyone knew it couldn't last for long.

  So, the request for a meeting with Lang, in Lang's own stronghold, had come as something of a surprise. The obvious lessons of the Trojan Horse gave the scientist pause, but the off chance that a power struggle could be averted made him agree to the confrontation in the end.

  Edwards's VTs veered off in compliance with the warnings, and the general himself stepped forth from his armored limo once it was inside a garage-bunker. Edwards looked around warily before exiting the car; he had begun sensing some troubling and lethal presence near him in recent days-a menacing shadow he could never quite see out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes he thought it was a phantom image brought on by his brain-boost, and other times he was sure that there was somebody poised in the darkness, waiting to kill him.

  But he had no qualms about going into Lang's den, really; fools like the good doctor always played by the rules, which was why they were always fated to lose.

  Soon, the two were closeted together in Lang's inner sanctum, an alchemist's lair of bizarre experimental Robotech equipment, glowing retorts, and weird holographic

  displays of flora and fauna from that galactic region.

  "We're wasting time and resources with all this bickering." Edwards got around to his pitch quickly. "I only want what's best for the REF! For Earth and the Human race!"

  All the while, he was monitoring the sensors that had been built into his skullpiece, reading the alphanumerics and indicators that were projected onto the inside of his eye-lens. It was the crowning achievement of his technical staff, the ultimate debugger.

  Edwards knew that Lang had several monitoring systems that the scientist thought would catch every word and movement in the room, but the remotes built into Edwards's belt and epaulets and the fabric of his dress uniform would counter all that. Lang was going to find himself with a lot of blank tape.

  "How can I prove that to you and the others?" Edwards finished.

  Lang hadn't batted an eye. "Remain neutral during the hearing of Wolff and the others, since you have no real evidence. Put all your forces under the direct command of the council. And most importantly, allow me and my teams to examine the Invid artifacts, or remains, or whatever else there is, under the Royal Hall."

  "No!" Edwards forgot himself, his fist pounding a table so that minor items leapt off it and scattered on the floor.

  "No?" Lang echoed mildly. "And why not, General? Nothing to hide, surely? So, when you permit me to investigate the catacombs there, which your people so closely guard, then we can talk about your dutiful beneficence toward the REF."

  "You stay away from there, you damn black magician!" the general hollered.

  "And another thing," Lang said mildly. "Major Carpenter and the Earth expedition are safely away. The warning's gone forth, and there is nothing you can do about it."

  The general was stunned for a moment. He had had no idea that any of the new SDF-7 vessels had been fitted with a spacefold drive! And now one was on its way to Earth, commanded by an officer loyal to the council and to Lang, imperiling all Edwards's grand designs.

  The general, provoked beyond words, lurched at the scientist, hands out to choke him.

  Suddenly, Lang's hands were clamped around Edwards's wrists with a strength that threatened to crush them. The general was being forced back and down to his knees. There was a wild moment in which Edwards realized that Lang's strength wasn't Human-that Lang could quite easily kill him.

  Edwards had come into Lang's bailiwick without bodyguards, though, because he was sure he had read the man. "Go...ahead," he gritted. "Finish it, if you think you can! Murder me! Isn't that what your precious Shapings are all about?"

  The tremendous pressure from the scientist's grip fell away, and Edwards was left to rub numbed wrists. He laughed a little hysterically. "No, you can't, can you? That wouldn't be kosher with the Shapings of the Protoculture, would it?" He cackled to himself, struggling to his feet.

  "Stop your subversion now," Lang said in a near monotone, "before there's any more bloodshed. Adhere to your oath, and abandon these megalomaniacal dreams."

  Edwards drew himself up, lips coming away from his locked teeth. He would perhaps never again have a chance to tell Lang off in private; this would be the only moment when the two stood alone together out of the spotlight, as it were.

  "Here's the oath I'll serve," he said in a voice so low it was barely audible. But as he spoke it became louder. "I swear to kill Wolff. I swear to exterminate Rick and Lisa Hunter and Breetai, after I've made them suffer enough. The rest of you will either bow at my feet or die. I swear to have Obstat and Huxley and all the rest of them on the council as my personal slaves-"

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he meant to subjugate Minmei, but that secret he managed to contain. "I swear to have the galaxy as my personal domain."

  He backed away, flexing partially paralyzed fingers. "I swear revenge."<
br />
  Lang didn't pursue him; indeed, Lang stood with hands locked behind his back now. "Then there's nothing to discuss. But-one last question, if you will, General."

  Edwards flashed a grin like a shark's. "What?"

  Lang's eyebrows met. "I understand why you despise Rick Hunter; his connection to your old nemesis, Roy Fokker, makes that obvious. But whence comes this loathing of Lisa Hayes Hunter? What has she ever done to you?"

  Edwards forgot the pain, letting his hands fall to his sides. "You'll find out when the oh-so-saintly Hunters do: when it's too late."

  He turned his back on Lang, striding out of the room so fast that the door barely had time to get out of his way.