Doomsday: The Macross Saga Page 7

  Vance made a troubled gesture. “Front-row seat? Now? Those seats were filled weeks ago … I don’t know, Minmei.”

  She looked directly at him. “Vance. Just do it, okay?”

  “All right,” he said at last. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Minmei thanked him, and he wandered off, glass in hand. Smiling suddenly, she leaned her elbows on the balcony rail.

  “I wish I could be there to see the expression on Rick’s face when I tell him.”

  Jan Morris was no stranger to people who talked to themselves—she’d talked to herself for years now—but given her present condition it was unlikely that she even heard Minmei’s solitary remark. Cocktail glass precariously pinched between her fingers, the former star (and someday mystic) was winding her way toward the railing. Two years in space, self-pity, and drink had taken their toll; she was aged beyond her years, a bleached-blond caricature in long white gloves and strapless gown.

  “Minmei, I’ve been looking all over for you. How are you, dahling? Wonderful party! Having a good—oops!”

  Minmei deftly avoided the launched cordial; thick liqueur red as Jan’s gown splashed against the retaining wall beside her.

  “Excuse me. How clumsy, I could just die!” Jan was all false apologies. “Lucky I didn’t get any on your dress, dahling. And it’s such a quaint little dress, isn’t it? So full of charm; it’s really lovely, dear. Did you make it yourself?”

  I’ll have you know that this lime-green silk cape alone costs more than—Minmei wanted to say. Fortunately, though, she didn’t have to say anything, because Jan was already slaloming her way back inside. An older man had appeared and expressed an interest in meeting “the young star of the film,” and Jan was now tugging him away from the balcony doors.

  “She’s not so terribly interesting,” Minmei heard her tell him. “Just a child, really. Now, why don’t we go sit down somewhere and I’ll read your palm.”

  Minmei was thinking about hiring a bodyguard when Kyle called to her.

  “Your manager told me to tell you it’s seat A-5. They’ll hold the ticket at the box office.”

  Minmei clasped her hands together under her chin. “Great, Kyle! Thanks.”

  “Thank Vance,” he told her, and led her inside. He had that protective look on his face she’d come to recognize. He placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Why don’t you call it a night and I’ll walk you back to your room.”

  “Deal,” she answered. “I need to make a call, anyway.”

  Big day or no big day, there was to be no sleep for her that night. She left a message for Rick at the officers’ barracks, but he never called back. The large suite SDF Pictures had supplied only served to return her to that evening’s earlier train of thought. At Vance’s insistence she joined him in the rooftop lounge for a nightcap, but even that didn’t help. She yearned for her blue and yellow room above the White Dragon, her few possessions, her treasured memories.

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  Eventually, Little White Dragon would find a larger audience, a less involved one to be sure, and critical reaction was mixed, to say the least. More than one reviewer dismissed it as “home movies for the space set”; another called it “low-art therapy … propagandist fantasy … a misdirected death-wish fable.” But several praised it unconditionally as “a prescient warning from the collective unconscious.”

  History of the First Robotech War, vol. LXXXII

  Miriya Parino, late of the Quadrono Battalion and now an unauthorized micronized operative inside the dimensional fortress, marched briskly down Macross Boulevard. The somewhat Teutonic outfit she had pilfered to replace the sackcloth garment she’d arrived in was well suited to her traffic-stopping martial stride, although she didn’t understand what all the stares were about. Perhaps, she wondered, the uniform was inappropriate. If she could have seen herself as passersby saw her—radiant green hair, tight-fitting lavender vest, knickers, white stockings, and high-heeled “Mary Janes”—she would have understood at once.

  It had not been an easy week. She had been forced to steal food and moments of rest when opportunities presented themselves. Once or twice she was tempted to accept assistance offered at least a dozen times daily by Micronian males—but thought better of it. Early on she had spotted Breetai’s three agents among a crowd gathered in front of a vid-scanner listening to some long-haired male talk of peace and ending the war! But she saw no reason to make contact with the three and hadn’t seen them since.

  Peace … Micronian ways were baffling, unthinkable. But she was enjoying the challenge. Unfortunately, though, she had yet to find the pilot who had bested her in battle, despite the many soldiers she passed in the streets.

  Ahead of her now was yet another gathering of Micronians, the largest she’d encountered thus far, and certainly the loudest. Cheering groups of males and females were standing twenty deep in front of a strange-looking building, a backlit message display of some sort jutting out above the entry.

  “Little … White … Dragon,” Miriya read aloud, trying out the feel of the words. She knew that the first meant “small” and that the second referred to the absence of color, but she was unfamiliar with the final word.

  There was a line of long vehicles with tinted observation ports discharging strangely uniformed males and females in front of the building. The people in the crowd were craning their necks and rising on their toes to catch a brief glimpse of these heroes as they ascended the entry steps, waving and smiling. Adulation was heaped on two in particular: a small dark-haired female someone in the crowd called “Min-mei” and an equally dark-haired male—the same who had been spouting peace from the vid-scanner! They were ceremoniously ushered into the building without having to show the passes required by the ordinary citizenry of the population center.

  Miriya had little doubt that her quarry was inside, about to be honored for defeating her in battle. It might have even been that long-haired male. Why else would so many attend? She had no pass, but she did have a trick up the sleeve of that white blouse with the ruffled collar. She had noticed that certain facial contortions from a Micronian female could open many a locked door. So giving her thong-laced vest a downward tug, she approached the guard at the gate who was accepting the passes and flashed him her most brilliant smile …

  Spotlighted center stage inside the Fortress Theater, where an SRO crowd filled the lobby and upper gallery tiers, stood the president of SDF Pictures, Alberto Salazar (chairman of the board of Macross Insurance Company in his spare time), tall and well built, with a thick walrus mustache and blue-tinted triangular shades.

  “… Once again I want to thank you all for your support in the making of this film—the first but certainly not the last filmed entirely onboard the ship. And now, without further ado, I’d like to introduce the stars of the film, Minmei and Lynn-Kyle!”

  Salazar made an expansive gesture to the wings, where a second spotlight found the leading couple. They walked arm in arm, acknowledging the applause with a wave or two. Salazar led Minmei to the microphone stand.

  “Tell us what it was like to star in your first movie.”

  “It was thrilling, Mr. Salazar. I just hope the audience enjoys my performance.”

  The crowd went wild, and Salazar grinned.

  “I’d say you already have your answer. Sounds to me like the people of Macross love everything you do. And how about you, Kyle? Have you got something to say to all your fans?”

  “I just want to thank everyone involved in the production,” he began rather shyly. “Especially Minmei, for all the support she’s given me. I’m a newcomer to this ship, but I’m pleased to discover how easy it is to make friends here. I’m hoping we can continue to turn out movies to entertain you during our time together. This was a great experience, and I thank you for it.”

  While Kyle was speaking, Minmei stole a glance at the front row, searching for Rick. She found the may
or, Aunt Lena, and Uncle Max, but A-5 was vacant. He didn’t even call for his ticket, she said to herself.

  But Rick was there all right, pressed shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the standing-room-only crowd in the rear of the theater. He had received the message that Minmei had called but not the part about the ticket reserved for him. There had been no response when he phoned her at the Centinel; she was in fact with Vance Hasslewood at the time, sipping at a kahlua and cream on the hotel roof, thinking about Rick. He was in good spirits nevertheless, happy to be there even when he heard someone nearby say, “I hear that Kyle and Minmei are dating. It wouldn’t surprise me if they get married!”

  Minmei was singing now, the crowd swaying to her song, and Rick began to move with them, caught up in the moment. What is this power she has? he asked himself.

  Standing stiffly and in obvious discomfort a few feet away, Miriya Parino asked herself the same thing.

  In a review written by two science fiction writers who had been covering the SDF-1 launch for Rolling Stone on the day of the spacefold, Little White Dragon was billed as “a kung-fu fable”; it was to previous martial arts flicks what Apocalypse Now was to war pictures. No one would deny that it was an ambitious undertaking from the start, especially for a fledgling company in a three-cinema, fifty-thousand-plus market with little hope for a general release. But it more than fulfilled the expectations of its creators, in much the same way that the Miss Macross pageant had. Financial rewards aside, the film was conceived of as an effort to keep morale high onboard the ship; shot entirely inside the SDF-1 (thanks to the EVE engineers), it created jobs and indirectly helped to perfect some of the “normalizing” techniques used in Macross City.

  Set in some undisclosed era of Asian prehistory, the film opens on the barren, evil-looking island of Natoma, where a wizard named Kirc is briefly introduced. The young magician is in possession of a strangely configured seagoing vessel, the bow of which has been fashioned to resemble a dragon’s head and neck, the stern a barbed tail. Folded wings form the ship’s bulwark and gunwales. It is soon apparent that Kirc is not the rightful owner, and while an army of blood-crazed giants—massive sanguine-fleshed hairless mutants dressed in harem pants, cummerbunds, and vests—move in to repossess the ship, he utters a spell which results in its dematerialization.

  Cut to a second island in more familiar waters, tropical and peaceful. Some of the inhabitants become familiar, including the island’s resident Zen master and a beautiful girl named Zu-li (played by Minmei, her long hair lightened and braided). Zu-li is a visitor to the island, but after scarcely a month there she is known by one and all. Her quiet songs fill the night air, lulling the inhabitants to sleep and bringing a sense of peace and harmony to everything they touch. Her eventual leavetaking, however, is delayed when a mysterious mist blows in and envelopes the island. Out of this enters the dragon ship.

  Most of the islanders are frightened by its appearance, but a band of adventurous men and women led by the Zen master board the ship and bring it in. Zu-li and a handsome kung-fu student named Taiki—Lynn-Kyle—(a peaceful young man forced by circumstance to fight to save the people he loves) are among the master’s following. On closer inspection the vessel is even more marvelous than its stylized exterior suggests, almost uncannily lifelike and filled with curious devices the islanders strive to comprehend.

  Time goes by, and on the trail of the ship come the evil giants seen earlier. Seemingly recognizing the enemy at hand, the ship defends itself with an outpouring of fiery dragon’s breath that destroys most of the attackers. Terrified by these developments, the chief orders the Zen master and his followers from the island. They set sail aboard the ship and are chased around the world by the giants in a series of perilous and exciting episodes, culminating in their attempt to return to their homeland. Zu-li, meanwhile, has discovered the true power of her voice: She learns to produce a tone that weakens the giants while at the same time strengthening Taiki’s martial arts skills. He vanquishes enemies the dragon ship encounters during its long journey home—blue-uniformed, scimitar-wielding assailants and armored warriors with bows and arrows—and lays waste to the giants with kung-fu energy bolts and soaring leaps.

  In the thrilling climax Zu-li is captured by the enemy and rescued by Taiki, and the island, which has refused to allow the journeyers home, is devastated by the giants.

  Well before the credits ran, Lisa Hayes left her seat and exited the theater. The final color-enhanced kiss had been too much for her to take. When she looked at Lynn-Kyle, she saw Karl Riber; it was Karl’s voice she heard when Kyle spoke, Karl’s sentiments about war and death … Since that first day in the White Dragon she had been drawn to him, moth to flame. He was antiestablishment, antimilitary, antieverything her life had become, and yet she couldn’t put him from her mind. She could close her eyes and remember every detail of his face, every word she had heard him tell the reporters about his hopes for peace when all they were interested in was Minmei’s health; she could vividly recall standing next to him at the MBS studio the night Captain Gloval addressed the ship; and now there he was, ten times larger than life on the silver screen. Another giant in her life. And seemingly in love with Minmei. Minmei again. What magic did she possess? First Rick, now Kyle. It sometimes felt as if the entire ship was haunted by her presence, much as it was haunted by her songs.

  Lisa could hear applause coming from inside the theater. Soon the lobby was going to be jammed, and she didn’t want to hear everyone talking about how wonderful Minmei was, how beautiful. She stopped for a moment to glance at the film’s colorful glass-encased poster and was about to move off, when all at once someone grabbed her behind! Not a grab, actually, more like a shove! She’d had enough of that waiting on line to get in and was certainly in no mood for it now. Enraged, she spun around, white trenchcoat flying, high red boots and fists ready, just like in the movies …

  And found Rick Hunter groveling on the lobby floor in front of her, apologizing for his clumsiness.

  “Commander!” he said, full of surprise. “I am sorry. I must have tripped or something …”

  Lisa folded her arms across her chest. “And I just happened to be within reach, is that it?”

  Rick’s eyes widened. “Well, what do you think? I can’t imagine another reason why anyone would want to, er, grab you.”

  “That’s tellin’ her, pal,” said someone in the crowd that was gathering around them.

  “I don’t know, Hunter, first I find you prowling around in a lingerie shop and now you’re molesting women on the street …”

  “Let him have it, sister,” someone else added.

  “Shove her again, pal!”

  Lisa turned an angry face to their audience and grabbed Rick by the arm. “Come on, Lieutenant, we’d better continue this discussion elsewhere.”

  That brought out even more comments and a few catcalls, but Lisa ignored them. She practically dragged Rick down the wide staircase, complaining all the while. “Of all the nerve, intruding on a private conversation like that, how embarrassing, those imbeciles.” Appropriately enough, Lisa didn’t come to a halt until she had both of them positioned inside one of the black and yellow diagonally striped danger zones. Then she turned on him again. “Now, what in the world were you up to back there?”

  “I was just coming out of the movie,” Rick said innocently.

  “Why didn’t you stay to see the ending?”

  The blare of warning sirens silenced Rick’s reply; he and Lisa looked around. People were already running for shelter, and Sammie’s voice was on the PA:

  “Attention: Prepare for modular transformation. Please move to the nearest shelter immediately. Avoid the marked danger zones and move to the nearest shelter immediately!”

  “A modular transformation?!” Rick said in disbelief.

  “Something’s wrong. We’re supposed to be having a drill. That’s why Sammie’s on the com.”

  “A sneak attack?”

 
Lisa shook her head. “Impossible. Even so, we’d have more advance warning than this.”

  “We better get to a shelter, anyway.” Rick took her arm, but she shook him off.

  “Shelter? What’s the matter with you? We’ve got to get back to the base as soon as—”

  The street had begun to vibrate and shake. Lisa and Rick exchanged worried glances and hesitantly looked down. Their colorfully striped section of sidewalk was elevating rapidly. They held on to each other as they were carried high above the city streets. Down below people raced for cover. Cars pulled over, drivers and passengers leapt out. The scene in front of the Fortress Theater bordered on pandemonium. Sirens continued to blare and shriek.

  The telescoping shaft came to an abrupt stop; then it lurched into upward motion again, but not before Rick and Lisa had managed to leap off. They were far above the third tier of Macross now, beyond EVE’s blue sky illusion in the uppermost regions of the dimensional fortress—an area of massive cooling ducts, recyling conduits, transformational servogenerators, and miles of thick cabling. But Rick thought he knew a way out. He led a skeptical Lisa through a maze of human-size corridors; “portholes” every few feet afforded glimpses of junction boxes and circuit boards inside the walls.

  “I think we’re near the end,” Rick said confidently. “All we do is bear right here.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Just follow me. I’ll get you out of here. Nothing to it.”

  A minute later, they were in a cul-de-sac and Rick was scratching his head.

  “Nothing to it,” Lisa mocked him.

  “Must’ve taken a wrong turn back there.”

  From somewhere close by came the click! click! and hum of activating machinery. There was something about that wall in front of them … that seemed to be moving forward! They turned and started to run, only to find their exit blocked by a descending hatch. They stood rooted to the floor while one section of wall continued to advance; then, blessedly, it shuddered to a stop.