Doomsday Page 19

Rick met briefly with Lisa afterward. He was angry in spite of the exhaustion he felt.

  "I talked to Vanessa," he said sharply. "She told me you said I was sick in bed! And you know that's a lie! I should have been notified at the very first scramble alert!"

  "I didn't say you were sick," she answered, averting his gaze for a moment. "Anyway, I didn't think you'd want to be disturbed..." She waited for his puzzled look, then added: "You should be more discreet when you have people coming over-or at least learn to close your front door...I came by last night to say merry Christmas. I know all about Minmei staying with you."

  He let it go at that and returned home, entering the house like he was returning from a day at the office, with a cheery "Hi there!" for Minmei, who was visibly overjoyed to see him.

  "Thank goodness!" she gushed, wiping tears away. "I told you I'd come back." He smiled.

  She ran off to fix her face. Rick noticed that she had prepared an entire dinner for the two of them-even a white-frosted cake with a candle and a small Santa.

  "I made it for you," she said softly, hugging him from behind. "My sweet Rick...I was so worried."

  Rick was speechless, feeling her pressed up against him like that, too good to be true.

  "Do you think you could ever give up your commission with the Defense Force?" she asked him. "Please think about it because I never want

  to lose you, Rick-never again..."

  She lit the candle after dinner and wished him a merry Christmas. "May we have a million more like it," said Rick, the dog fights and

  fireworks suddenly forgotten.

  Minmei sighed and leaned forward, closing her eyes. Rick followed her lead until their lips met...

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I believe Khyron suspected that Gloval's allowing him to leave Macross with the Protoculture matrix was a form of peace offering. It was Gloval's judgment for deportation as opposed to incarceration; Gloval's way of saying: You have what you need to get home-now leave! But it remains unfathomable to me that Gloval and Exedore could so misread Khyron at this late stage. Home-with the imperative unfilled? Unthinkable. And yet, could the war have ended in any other fashion?...I have asked myself over and over again how events might have reshaped themselves had Khyron simply left.

  Rawlins, Zentraedi Triumvirate: Dolza, Breetai, Khyron

  Vengeance, snarled Khyron.

  If there had been doubts regarding Khyron's leadership, the raid on New Macross not only erased them but instilled within his rank and file a sense of loyalty hitherto unknown, even among the Zentraedi. He was "the Destroyer" now, no longer the Backstabber who had sacrificed thousands along his own vainglorious campaign trail. By capturing the Protoculture matrix, he had effected a rescue; he had provided them with the means to take leave of the miserable world that had held them captive these two long years-a way to return home. His troops would have followed him into hell itself...And that was precisely where he meant to lead them...

  "All energy inputs building to operative levels, sir," an engine room tech reported to the observation bubble command center.

  "Check the reflex furnaces," Grel shouted into the communicator. He sat rigidly at his duty station, grateful to be alive after the way things had turned out in Macross. Had Khyron failed to find the matrix, Grel wouldn't have survived the day.

  The Destroyer himself was pacing the deck, his hands clasped behind his back, the olive-drab campaign cloak swirling as he turned.

  "Stable," relayed the engine room tech.

  "We have full power," Azonia updated. Seated at the duty station adjacent to Grel's, she too was in full-dress uniform.

  Khyron clenched his fists and approached the curved console of the command center. His eyes held a look that went beyond anger. "Excellent!" he hissed. "We will leave immediately to rejoin the Robotech Masters!"

  Grel and Azonia were raising their hands in salute when he suddenly added: "But before I leave Earth, I want to destroy the SDF-1!"

  His subordinates stared at him in disbelief, their protests ignored. The Earth Forces weren't foolish enough to permit a second sneak attack; they would be lying in wait, the guns of their newly constructed fortress primed and aimed! Surely Khyron recognized this, surely he wouldn't allow freedom to slip from their grasp now!

  "I will have my final revenge on these Micronians," Grel and Azonia heard him mutter under his breath. Then he turned on them and ordered lift-off. They glanced at each other wordlessly and initiated the launch sequence.

  The cruiser shuddered; vibrating to a bone-shaking bass rumble that was more feeling than sound. Protoculture surged through the ship's atrophied systems, empowering the massive reflex furnaces in its holds. Thrusters erupted with nearly volcanic force, inverted against the tangled tenacious growth that was partly of the ship's own creating. The Earth itself sensed the force of the cruiser's withdrawal, replying in kind with tectonic movements created and relayed from deep within its core, the last gasp of some opposing telluric intelligence bent on holding fast its dangerous captive.

  But ultimately the powers of evil proved superior and the Destroyer's dreadnought tore loose, taking great hunks of earth and forest with it as it climbed toward freedom and headed north for its rendezvous with vengeance and death.

  The end of the world, Lisa cried to herself.

  Two weeks had passed since Khyron's Christmas morning attack, and

  Macross had yet to recover. Initially the residents of that often devastated place had rallied, once again prepared to pick up the pieces of their lives and rebuild the symbol of their dreams. But then a sort of delayed shock set in, sapping even the strongest of the will to prevail. People remained in their homes, leaving the streets deserted, the recent damage untouched; some had even taken up what amounted to residency in the shelters themselves. And yet others fled to other cities or wandered off into the wastes, a new breed of pioneer, abandoning the one thing that had brought salvation and devastation alike-the SDF-1.

  Lisa Hayes was on the lookout bridge of the fortress now, her inner world as overturned as that one she glimpsed along the curve of the lake. Rick was lost to her, and his leave-taking had emptied her, much as the city itself. She contemplated the single decision that would free her, sobbing for all that might have been.

  "Lisa!" Claudia yelled from behind her. She wiped her eyes and turned around.

  "Admiral Gloval sent me to look for you," her friend told her. "Why aren't you on the bridge?"

  "I needed to be alone," she answered, the cold wind mussing her hair. "I'm thinking about resigning."

  Claudia had sensed this coming for weeks now but found herself surprised nonetheless. "You've got to be joking," she said plainly.

  "No, I'm serious, Claudia." Lisa's voice cracked. "I just can't take it anymore. The army...Rick...I'm giving up-I'm just not as tough as everybody seems to think I am."

  Claudia sized her up for a moment, deciding to get tough herself. "Come off it, Lisa-you're not fooling anybody but yourself!"

  So much for the sympathy, Lisa thought, startled by Claudia's reaction. Maybe she just wasn't explaining all this properly-Claudia wasn't seeing it through her eyes.

  "You're talking like some silly, simpering, weak sister schoolgirl!" Claudia stepped in to confront her further. "You're a military woman, born,

  bred, and trained, and you're too much of a scrapper to give in like this without a fight!"

  But Lisa held her ground. "There's no use fighting-it all comes down to a battle with myself, Claudia. And I'm losing. If Rick prefers Minmei, that's just the way it is, and there's nothing I can do about it.

  "Except get over it and move on!" Claudia emphasized. "The military is your life, girl. You give up and resign your commission, you might as well throw everything else away."

  Lisa's lips narrowed to a thin line. "I have to get away." "You mean run away."

  Lisa turned her back to Claudia. "Call it what you want. I can't work with Rick and then watch him go home to her every da
y. If you can't understand that..."

  He shouldn't have the power over you, Claudia wanted to tell her. You shouldn't permit him that power! But her heart understood only too clearly. "I do understand," she said quietly.

  The loneliness of command, Gloval said to himself for the third time that morning. He wished Exedore hadn't chosen to return to the Robotech factory satellite so soon; he missed him, finding in the gnomish Zentraedi a keen mind unencumbered by emotional restraints. And yet far from being pure intellect, cool and remote like Lang, the man-and Gloval would always refer to him thus-the man had a loyal and unbiased nature, along with a compassion rarely encountered among Humans or aliens alike. The two had forged a unique friendship, built on shared interest, mutual trust, and nothing less than awe for the events that had shaped their histories, both racial and individual.

  Gloval was in his favorite chair, the command seat on the SDF-1 bridge, staring out at Macross through the wraparound permaglass bays. Everyone knew to look for him here, more than anything his place of retirement. And indeed, the issue of retirement weighed heavily on his mind; he wanted the untaxed freedom to think back through the past two decades and make

  personal order out of the chaos he had so often seen there in moments of reflection. He needed to take a hard look at his successes and failures and evaluate his performance record, if for no other reason than to justify the decisions that had affected so many lives...countless lives.

  He recalled saying once that he was allowed to make more mistakes than the rest of the crew, and indeed he had. He only prayed that his latest decisions wouldn't fall into the same category.

  When Lisa finally reported to him, he stood and walked to the forward portion of the bridge, his hands behind his back.

  "I have called you here to brief you on your new assignment, Captain." "I'm...sorry, sir, but I can't take a new assignment," Lisa told him

  directly.

  Gloval pivoted through his rehearsed turn, raising his voice a notch. "And why not?!"

  Lisa's head was bowed. "Sir, I've decided to resign. In my state of mind I'm no good to myself or the service."

  "And what state of mind would that be?" Gloval wanted to know. "I...I need to get away for a while, Admiral-for personal reasons."

  Gloval beamed. "Well, that's perfect, then, because this assignment calls for a certain amount of travel."

  "No, sir." Lisa shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir."

  Another tack, Gloval said to himself. "Nonsense. You can't disregard your duty just because of some unrequited romance-you're just going to have to get over it because I need you now more than ever before."

  Lisa was staring at him wide-eyed. "You mean, y-you know?!"

  The admiral made a dismissive gesture. "Good grief, I have eyes, don't I?! I've probably known about you and Commander Hunter longer than you have known!"

  Lisa brightened somewhat and smiled. "I'll bet you have, sir...This new assignment, then-is it in the way of a favor?"

  "Nonsense," Gloval snorted. "You're the most capable and experienced officer in the entire command. The choice was an obvious one."

  "Sir..."

  Gloval cleared his throat. "As you know, construction of the new fortress has just been completed. I want you to command it."

  Lisa put her hands to her breast. That she was to command the SDF-2 had been hinted at but never actually stated. "What?! My own command?"

  "It's a long-term commitment," he cautioned her. "I accept-whatever it is."

  "Good," he said, asking her to step over to the forward bay. She did so and began to follow his gaze.

  Stratified layers of blue sky and crystalline white arced across the eastern horizon. Above this was a darker, more menacing ceiling of swiftly moving storm clouds pierced by brilliant rays of winter sunlight. It was a majestic morning sight, breathtaking.

  "Yes," Gloval was saying, "our Earth is a beautiful planet. And we must preserve its glories. That's why I must ask you to leave our world behind for a time."

  Lisa experienced a fleeting moment of fear.

  "The time has come for humankind to grow up and leave its cradle behind," the admiral explained. "To go forth and claim its place in the universe...Your assignment is to lead a diplomatic mission to the homeworld of the Robotech Masters."

  "To Tirol, sir?!" Lisa said in disbelief. "But how?"

  "That is the new purpose of the SDF-2. Commander Breetai and Exedore will accompany you, although it might be easier to follow Khyron's lead."

  Lisa's brow furrowed.

  "We let him have that Protoculture matrix for a reason, Captain. I'm only sorry we hadn't anticipated the explosions."

  "Khyron's ticket home," Lisa mused. "But why Tirol, Admiral?" "Because the Human race couldn't possibly survive another holocaust

  like the last one. Our defense system has been vastly improved, but even that would prove useless against the sophisticated technology of the

  Masters or worse yet, to hear Exedore tell it, the Invid. It's essential that we make peace with the Masters, perhaps for the sake of both our races."

  "Peace," Lisa said, as though hearing the word for the first time. "And we have to travel clear across the galaxy to secure it."

  The downside of getting your wish, thought Rick.

  From the picture window of his suburban quarters, he watched a formation of Veritechs streak overhead. He hadn't been airborne in more than a week, having taken the leave to spend time with his new roommate/partner/significant other...and that didn't begin to tell the tale of his confusion. As pleasant as it was with Minmei, Rick felt unfulfilled; without flying, without a mission, without something to strive for, it was just the two of them playing house. They would sleep late, cook together, watch the screen, and suddenly there would be nothing to talk about. She had stopped writing love songs, and he had stopped telling tales.

  Minmei entered the room just then and seemed to pick up on his distance. Was he tired of her already?

  "Rick, why not just quit the service? We could move somewhere else if you want. I mean, could you be happy if we settled down to a normal life?"

  "Normal?!" he said, more harshly than he had to. "Take a look outside, Minmei. There isn't any more normal!" He shook his head. "I don't think we could even if there was."

  "But why not? There's so much more to life than this, and we're missing it."

  Rick held his breath, then exhaled slowly through clenched jaws. "People are depending on us. They look to people like me for protection, and to you for inspiration. How can we just walk away from that?"

  She put her hand on his shoulder. "Life is funny, isn't it? Nothing turns out the way you think it will...When we first met, I was totally caught up in romantic dreams, and some of those actually came true. But not the dream I had for you and me, Rick."

  "What dream?"

  She tried to hold his eyes with hers. "Let's get married."

  Rick reacted as if he'd been punched. Wasn't she listening to anything he said?...But even as he thought this, he knew that it was more black and white than he was making it out to be: Somehow the war and their separate careers weren't the real issues at all. It was something else...

  When the doorbell rang, both of them jumped up to answer it, thankful for the intrusion. Lisa was standing there demurely, her uniform as bright as the patches of snow on the front lawn.

  "I came to say...good-bye, Rick. I've received new orders, and I'll be going back into space soon." She pushed on through Rick's surprised reaction, fighting to maintain her even tone. "It's true. I can't believe it, but Admiral Gloval has given me command of the SDF-2." She grew almost cheerful now. "It's like a dream come true. Aren't you happy for me, Rick?"

  "When are you leaving?" he asked her anxiously.

  "Transfer of the reflex engines from SDF-1 will begin tomorrow. But we're bound for deep space soon afterward. To Tirol, the homeworld of the Robotech Masters. It's going to be a diplomatic mission-a mission of peace."

  That coul
d take years! Rick thought.

  "So I just wanted to say good-bye and...see you in a few years." Lisa smiled at Minmei. "It's been a pleasure, Minmei. Your music has been a great inspiration to all of us."

  Minmei thanked her, warily at first but more sincerely when Lisa wished Rick and her happiness in the future.

  "I just have one more thing to say," Lisa stammered, her voice failing her all of a sudden. "I love you, Rick! I always have! And I always will!"

  Rick was speechless. Minmei had latched on to his arm with a tourniquetlike grip. Lisa was apologizing, holding back tears.

  "I may never see him again," she was explaining herself to Minmei. "And I had to tell him...Take care of him for me."

  She saluted Rick, turned, and began to run.

  Rick stood in the doorway a moment, then shook himself out of his stupor and called for her to wait. He took off down the walk, but Minmei

  was there in front of him, her arms stretched out to stop him.

  "You can't go!" she said in a frightened rush. "What about me?! You've already done more than your share! How could you even think of going back into space again?!"

  "Because...they need me," Rick lied. And all at once the sky fell...

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Entropy-your belief that systems, biophysical and otherwise, are predestined to move from a state of order to disorder-is the one concept that continues to fascinate me; and I do believe that it has indeed shaped your thinking as a race as powerfully as Protoculture has shaped mine. This dissolution, this winding down...how typical of your thinkers to conjure up such a poetic ending.

  Exedore, as quoted in Dr. Laslo Zand,

  On Earth as It Is in Hell: Recollections of the Robotech War

  Good-bye, blue sky, good-bye...

  Twentieth-century song lyric

  A hail of missiles fell on unprepared Macross, turning the sky a radiant yellow and leveling the heart of the city. Rick and Minmei were thrown to the ground by the concussion of a thousand blasts that filled the air with suffocating heat and fiery debris.