Invid Invasion: The New Generation Read online

  All three Humans were laughing and cheering. Scott and Rand flew far away from the site to a distant hillside. The moon was full, but it looked to Rand as if rainclouds were moving in. Good; those fires wouldn’t last long. “Isn’t that a beautiful moon?” Rand said wonderingly.

  But Annie’s attention was elsewhere. “Look at the mountains!”

  “The whole mountain range is sinking into that Pit,” Scott said quietly.

  The ground rumbled and moved again, clouds of dust obscuring the mountains, as a huge area went into subsidence, filling in the Genesis Pit. “That one was close” was all Scott could find to say.

  Annie said mournfully, “But what about the poor dinosaurs?” She looked at Rand.

  “The Invid created them,” he told her. “And I think it’s just as well that they left the dinosaurs down there to be destroyed. Conditions up here aren’t right for them; there’s just no place for them to survive anymore. Time simply passed them by.”

  Annie intertwined her fingers behind her back and scuffed the ground with one toe. “Y’mean, it’s the same as when the Invid talk about the Human race being all finished?”

  Rand was starting to nod when Scott interrupted. “No! Earth belongs to us; it’s the Invid who are going to be extinct!”

  He sounded ferocious. Rand knew all about Scott’s fierce hatred of the species that had killed his fianceé and wiped out his unit, but this was no time for propaganda speeches. “All right, Scott; all right—”

  “Hey!” Annie blurted. “Y’hear that?”

  It was the sound of large engines. In a few moments mecha came into sight, seeking the source of the vast disturbances their instruments had detected. In another moment, the survivors spotted an aircraft.

  “It’s the Alpha Fighter!” Scott said. “And there’s the rest of the team! It’s about time.”

  Annie was dancing from foot to foot. “Wait’ll I tell Rook what happened to me! Oboyoboy!’

  “Y’better make sure she’s sitting down,” Rand said dryly. He wondered if Rook would care to hear his story. There was just no telling how the young lady would react sometimes. Still, maybe it would be worth the risk.

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  The grand themes of the Robotech Wars are so dominant that the lesser ones are sometimes ignored. But those lesser themes, I insist, are more instructive.

  The matter of Marlene Rush’s ultimate destiny is a primary case in point. Surely, Protoculture is a force to be reckoned with in our every thought.

  Jan Morris, Solar Seeds, Galactic Guardians

  The five Invid mecha cruised slowly across the night sky, navigating with care, surveying the terrain below. They brought with them a sixth Robotech construct. Within it was a cargo of critical importance.

  Two Shock Troopers brought up the rear, and a partially evolved Invid in personal battle armor—the so-called “Pincer Ship”—led the way. In the center of the flying convoy were two more Pincer Ships. Between them they carried a hexagonal canister. The canister was like a Robotech setting for a cosmic gemstone; inside its crystal cocoon there throbbed and shone a fantastic, translucent egg. The thing was luminous in deep corals, gentle reds, and flesh tones;

  “We must know more about these new enemies,” the Regess had decreed, in the wake of the Genesis Pit catastrophe. Her servants had been quick to act. Soon, a Simulagent, a triumph of Invid biogenetic engineering, would be in the enemy’s midst. And before obliterating them, the Regess would know whether the Humans posed any possible danger to her grand scheme for her race.

  The Simulagent was code-named “Ariel.” Ariel had been replicated, with certain alterations, from a Human tissue sample that had been recovered while the Invid were examining the debris of the Human strikeforce they had destroyed weeks before. It was inconceivable that anyone on Earth would recognize Ariel as a clone, since most of her genetic design was woven from the DNA of fallen and captured humans, indistinguishable by the limited senses of the humans.…

  The Invid flight leader’s optical sensor scanned the area for any sign of Human presence, but there was none. The timing of the drop was important. The Simulagent’s placement must be unseen, so that its origin would remain secret, and yet Ariel must not be left unprotected for long.

  But the Invid had a recent fix on the Humans’ route, which made things easier.

  As the Invid formation neared its dropoff point, the crystal cocoon began to crack like an eggshell being pushed open from within. The strobing light from its center shone brighter.

  Just as the formation flew low over a deserted, devastated village, the crystal shattered. The egg fell, lighting the night and the landscape below. It bounced from a tree branch to a half-demolished roof to the ground. Light and resilient and yet astonishingly strong, it suffered no injury. The flight of alien mecha turned around and started back toward Reflex Point.

  The egg rested under a tree, casting its flesh-tone light all around. Soon it sensed the approach of its targets. Its glare grew, and it pulsed with the rhythm and sound of a quickened heartbeat. Darker colors swirled among the lighter ones now, and the egg stretched against the confines of its own skin with each beat.

  This time Scott was flying directly over the rest of his team, keeping close in case of trouble, easing along in Guardian mode. The Veritech fighter looked like a cross between an armored knight and a robotic eagle.

  The subsidence of the mountains into the Genesis Pit and the aftershocks had made the terrain dangerous and their maps useless. It had taken days to blaze a new trail through. They traveled at night, both to make up for lost time and because, at last, they had found a major highway.

  Rand, Rook, and Lancer were all riding close to Lunk’s APC. Like Scott, the Cyc riders had shed their armor; they all needed a chance to get out of its confinement after days of travel, and the scans and scouts indicated no Invid presence anywhere nearby. Scott flew his Alpha without his control helmet—the “thinking cap,” in Robotech jargon—controlling it with the manuals alone.

  Furthermore, it took Protoculture to power the armor, and they had used up a lot of their reserves in traveling the difficult mountain terrain. Several times, Scott had been forced to ferry the APC across unavoidable gaps, which was something he hated to do. By acting as a transport, the fighter was left highly vulnerable to sudden Invid attack. Also, since this task demanded very slow, deliberate, painstaking maneuvering, it ate up a lot of Protoculture. It was a workhorse role the fighter wasn’t built for, and one that strained its autosystems.

  At times like those Scott cursed the truck; but when he had to land and replenish his Protoculture and ordnance and service the Alpha, he blessed Lunk and the battered old APC.

  Rand keyed his headset by chinning a button on the mike mouthpiece, both hands being occupied steering his Cyc. “Hey, Scott! Don’tcha think it’s time for a rest? It’s almost dawn, y’know.”

  Scott was well aware of it. The first rays of the sun were already lighting the surrounding mountain peaks, gleaming off granite and snow. They would shine through his cockpit well before they warmed his teammates below. “Quit griping! Point K is just a few more miles ahead.”

  “Say again?” Rook broke in sharply.

  “Point K-as-in-king, Rook,” Scott came back. “That’s where all units from the invasion force I was in are supposed to rendezvous. They’ve probably already prepared an offensive aimed at wiping out Reflex Point.”

  Rook’s voice sounded unsure. “You mean this Admiral Hunter of yours knew the Invid were here?”

  “Negative. He didn’t know who the enemy was, exactly, but he was aware that something was wrong back on Earth. Don’t ask me how; it was all hush-hush stuff.”

  Even Annie, standing up in the truck’s shotgun seat and resting her chin on her forearms, on the windshield frame, didn’t have to ask Scott why he hadn’t told them all that before. With the risk of capture or even desertion—“going my own way,” as Rand or Rook would have called it—ever
present, Scott simply couldn’t take the chance.

  Still, she kicked the glove compartment a little and pulled her E.T. hat down lower on her head, sticking out her lower lip. Lunk gave her a quick look, then went back to his driving.

  Scott continued, “The way I figure it, there ought to be hundreds of Veritechs there, maybe a thousand or more. And ground units, assault mecha, supplies, and ammo—the works!”

  Annie whooped into the dawn air. “Awright! Now that’s the way to show ’em how it’s done!”

  “Wait, Scott.” Rand sounded edgy. “How can you hide an army that size?”

  Scott was all confidence and can-do. “No more hiding. There’s a secure base of operations there by now. From there we go island-hopping, cutting the links between Invid bases, until Reflex Point’s isolated, and we can smash it.”

  Just then, Scott’s displays began flashing and beeping for his attention. Computers sorted through the sensor information and flashed order-of-battle information, indicating that there was a large, friendly force just over the next ridge.

  He caught a flash of bright metal off fighter tailerons, and in the valley below he saw ranked mecha in the predawn mist. “All right, boys and girls! There it is, just ahead!”

  He increased power to the Guardian’s foot-thrusters. “I’m going to go on ahead and report in.” The Guardian flashed away, over the rise.

  “Can’t wait to see his playmates, huh?” Rand grumbled. This business about reporting in had reminded him that he wasn’t on any army roster. Like Rook and Annie, he was just an irregular who had joined up with Scott to try to do his bit for the Human race. But he obviously had no place in a regulation strikeforce.

  So, what happens to the rest of us now? “Thanks, and don’t let the door hit you in the butt as you leave?”

  The mists still swirled around the many hectares of grounded mecha. Scott figured the base was operating under blackout conditions, because he could see no lights or movement. He didn’t receive any warn-offs or challenges, and he didn’t get any indications that radar or sensors were checking him out, but he decided to land on the hillside and go in on foot anyway. The base might be using new commo procedures, and he had no desire to be shot down as a bogie.

  The Guardian bowed its radome, and Scott hopped down. He stood breathing Earth’s air for a few deep breaths, feeling the moment. From this beachhead, we take our homeworld back!

  Rand and Rook had raced ahead of the others; their Cycs came leaping over the hill with a winding of Robotech engines. The sun was about to top a ridge to the east; Scott decided he might as well wait and ride down with his companions. He was painfully aware that, except for Lancer and Lunk, they had no place in this regular-army campaign.

  Rand and Rook came to side-on stops, pushing up their goggles, and Lancer showed up moments later, with Lunk not far behind. Scott checked himself to make sure the mauve-and-purple flightsuit with its unit patches of his division, the Mars Division, and his knee-length, rust-red boots were all in order. Insignia, buttons, sidearm—he wasn’t quite strac, but he wasn’t looking too bad for somebody who had been stranded for so long.

  Scott and his teammates were exchanging a few mild, almost self-conscious congratulations—when Annie gave a dismayed yelp.

  “The base! Look!”

  They turned to look at the base just as the sun crested the ridge and its light shone off the snowy hills, brightening the little valley that was the home of Earth’s liberation army.

  But what they saw wasn’t a home but rather a graveyard. Attack-transport spacecraft lay gutted like crushed eggs. Broken and burned-out mecha were everywhere. Ranks of parked Veritech Alphas had been holed and eliminated before ground crews and pilots could even reach them. Battloids and Hovertanks and MACs and logistical vehicles lay on the ground like shattered toys. And the stench of death wafted on the warming breeze.

  The valley was filled with jutting, broken, blackened fuselages and skeletal, burned-off airframes and hulls. Barely keeping his balance, Scott stumbled to the edge of the rise, looking down, both hands buried in his dark hair.

  The clearing of the mist only made it worse by the second. “I don’t believe it; this, this can’t be—” He howled across the valley, hoping the survivors would answer. He fired his H90 aimlessly into the air. The others sat in their vehicles and looked at one another in despair. At last Scott Bernard dropped the pistol, sank to his knees, and wept.

  Earth’s liberating army! The mist for its shroud; the vultures to caw taps over it.

  One by one his friends dismounted and gathered around him.

  They went down among the monolithic wrecks; there was no place else to go. Lunk opened up the last of their rations and Annie built a fire. Scott had wandered off.

  He was sitting in the shade of a three-tube pumped-laser turret, looking off at nothing, eyes unfocused. Eventually, Rand came over with a plate of food and a cup of ersatz ration coffee, nudging them up against Scott. “Enough is enough. Time to eat, before you keel over.”

  He turned to go, then turned back for a moment. “You’ve got the team to think about, y’know.” Rand walked away, the soles of his desert boots gritting in the sand. Scott stared blankly at the field of carnage.

  Back at the campfire, Rook tried to sound positive, although cheerleading wasn’t usually in her line of work; but everybody else seemed to be falling apart. “Look, here’s a good idea: Why don’t we get outta this dump right now?”

  Lancer studied his ration can’s contents, stirring them. “Not until we collect everything of use. Ordnance, supplies, weapons, perhaps Protoculture.”

  They all shivered a little, realizing how grisly that search would be. Lunk blew out smoke from a ration-pak cigarette, unsteadily. Rand returned.

  “How is he?” Lancer asked, looking at the distant figure sitting with arms around knees.

  Rand pulled up the hood of his sweatshirtlike wind-breaker. “Catatonic. I dunno.”

  Lancer set down his ration can. “Come on, Scott! We’re wasting time !”

  Rand caught Lancer’s arm. “Uh, I think I’m gonna go forage over that way. Maybe Scott can establish a commo base.”

  Like the others, Lancer caught what was in Rand’s eyes. In another moment they were on the move, eager to replenish their supplies, eager to get away. As Rand sped off in a plume of soil, Rook raced after him.

  The Robotech graveyard was a strange place for a two-ride, but Rand welcomed it. It came, really, just as he had decided it was pointless to try to get close to the onetime biker queen. By her city lights, he was just a hick, a wilderness Forager. She had made it clear to him that he wasn’t one of the Bad Boys. Rand tried not to show his astonishment as she fell in with him, their tires stenciling parallel tread patterns among the looming derelicts.

  They were moving slowly, searching; he had his hood down and his goggles up on his forehead. He glanced over at Rook, admiring the lissome grace her red-and-blue racer’s bodysuit showed off. “Why’d you come along?” He had to yell, not wanting to key his headset. “Not that it bothers me or anything.”

  Her fair brows knit; the strawberry-blond hair blew around her freckled face. “Too depressing back there.”

  They came in a tight turn around a smashed tanker. Rand was saying, “I know what you—heyyyyy!”

  They dug to a stop at the lip of a drop-off, looking down into a kind of arroyo ledge protected by drainage ditches. There stood a village—or at least, the remains of a village; its caved-in tile roofs and beaten-down walls and the general lifelessness of it somehow let them know it had suffered the same fate as the strikeforce.

  “Two transgressors approach,” the voice of the Regess said to her mecha warriors. “Remain in concealment!”

  The war machines hunkered down, Scouts and Shock Troopers in personal battle armor, watching through optic sensors. Rand and Rook wound their way down the narrow lane.

  Rand rode through the streets calling for any survivors, even though it migh
t attract dangerous attention. But there was little time to search, and he hated the idea of leaving anyone, especially a child or someone who had been injured, behind. Rook was impressed with Rand’s nerve, but she kept that to herself. She joined in the yelling.

  They dismounted near the only building that was still in one piece, a large hacienda. Obviously the place had been too close to the strikeforce’s rendezvous point, and it had been included in the slaughter. More carnage. But the two had grown callous to such scenes.

  They were looking around the hacienda, not talking or meeting each other’s gaze, when Rook smelled something strange and went to a spot where most of an adobe wall had been blown away. She stepped through into a garden, and knelt next to something jellylike and translucent, like a dying man-o’-war, draped across the swordleafed plants there. It was three or four inches thick, and had perhaps the surface area of a table cloth.

  Rook knelt by it. “Careful,” Rand grated, holding his gun uncertainly. But she touched it, then snatched her hand back with a hiss of pain.

  “Damn thing burned my hand! And it’s nothing to smirk about!”

  “Well I said watch out.”

  She was suddenly as alert as a doe. Her voice came more softly, so intimate that it made him a little lightheaded. She practically mouthed it, “Do you think the Invid are still around?”

  He shrugged. She was up and moving; he had been staring, fascinated, at the blob of protoplasmic stuff, but now he couldn’t take his eyes off the fit of her bodysuit, the shape of those slender legs, the swirl of the seemingly weightless cascade of hair.…

  “I’ll look outside; you check in back of the house.” She pulled out her gun, and that brought him back to reality. His own gun was in his hand, fitted with its attachable stock and barrel extension, in submachine gun configuration now. He stepped back through the rift in the wall and thought about the blob of clear jelly.

  A brief sensation of expanded awareness, as if his mind had been touched by another, swept through him. Why do I feel like I’ve been through all this before? The thought came unbidden and bemused him.