Before the Invid Storm Page 8

  The ship had performed admirably throughout, except in one area: communication with the SDF-3, in orbit around Tirol, had not been achieved. Burst transmissions had been dispatched through ordinary space nonetheless, in the hope that they would eventually be received. The selfsame glitch had plagued the Ikazuchi Carrier commanded by Major John Carpenter, which had yet to be heard from, though it had left Fantoma more than six months earlier.

  The dissimilarity in their sizes, profiles, and signatures notwithstanding, the principal difference between the two ships—known only to Lang and Wolff—was that The Homeward Bound was capable of executing a refold for Tirol.

  Not that Jonathan Wolff had any such designs. To the contrary, Wolff saw Earth as the final stop in a life odyssey that had taken him not only all over the planet, but to worlds he had never imagined existed. Tirol, Karbarra, Praxis, Garuda, Haydon IV . . . the lot of them inhabited by beings he had never imagined existed. But he was through with wandering and with wanderlust. His return would mark a new beginning for himself and for the wife and son he had left behind three years earlier. No more licking the wounds he'd suffered at the hands of Lynn-Minmei; no more disabling himself with drink—not so much as a celebratory goblet of Karbarran champagne for him; and an end to the consuming and ultimately self- destructive hatred he had for T. R. Edwards.

  He understood that renewed interspecies warfare was likely to subsume the next year or two of his life. But he knew that he would be able to meet every challenge if he could succeed in reuniting with Catherine and Johnny. If he could succeed in winning their forgiveness for the years of selfishness and abandonment.

  He sat straighter in the command chair while his crew busied themselves with duties. His crew, he thought. Not bad for a guy who had

  been a Hovertank commander only four years earlier. Moreover, he stood to receive a healthy promotion for piloting the Garfish home. And how could Catherine fail to be impressed by the sight of a general's star glinting from the crown of his RDF command cap? Oh, there were bound to be heated discussions about his decision to remain in the military. But perhaps she would be inclined to see him in a different light once she realized that he was on the side of peace this time around.

  In the breast pocket of his jacket, close to his heart, was a message from Emil Lang, which he had been ordered to hand deliver to Rolf Emerson, of the Earth Defense Force. And included among the contents of that message was Lang's disclosure that Zor had concealed the Protoculture Matrix in the Reflex furnaces of the now-interred SDF-1, a fact to which the Masters should be directed in the event that they threatened war. Even though the possibility of that occurring was still several years off.

  "Colonel, I've got an enhancement of that gas cloud," Wolff's science officer reported. "It's approximately one-point-five million kilometers from perihelion of Mars. Coming up on screen five."

  Wolff swiveled his chair to the monitor, then sunk down in it as the image resolved.

  "Colonel?" the duty officer said in concern.

  "An Invid Sensor Nebula," Wolff said when he could. "I had my first look at one in the vicinity of Haydon IV when I was with the Sentinels. It's a kind of Flower of Life detector devised by the Invid Regis. A haze of preorganic molecules imbued with what amounts to sentience."

  "But what's one doing here?" a tech asked from her station.

  Wolff shook his head. "I don't understand it. Unless—" He glanced at the science officer, Wilks. "—unless the Flowers I occasionally saw in the Southlands have begun to proliferate."

  "It's as good an explanation as any," Wilks said. "Lang has always maintained that some of the Zentraedi ships that crashed on Earth may have carried specimens of the Flower. Khyron was said to be addicted to the things."

  Wolff ran his fingers through his glossy hair. Good god, he asked himself, was Earth going to have to tangle with the Invid before the Masters even arrived? The very thought of the sluglike creatures made his skin crawl. He swung around to face the astrogation console.

  "Enhance the opticals you shot of Earth, and run everything through our friend-or-foe library. Screen anything out of the ordinary—at full magnification."

  The tech bent to her task, whistling in astonishment a moment later. "Colonel, I'm registering anomalous objects in almost every optical. I'll display them in the order taken."

  No sooner had everyone given their attention to the heads-up monitor above the astrogation station than exclamations of shock and anger began to ring out from all sides. The computer enhancements revealed an extensive debris cloud containing fragments of Logans, Veritechs, Hovertanks, and weapons platforms—all interspersed among pieces of Tirolean Hovercraft, Bioroids, and assault ships. One optical showed an asteroid-size hunk that could only have come from a starship of awesome dimension.

  And yet, there was the factory satellite, intact if somewhat dispirited looking . . . So just what had happened? Wolff racked his brain for answers. It was obvious that a portion of the Masters' fleet had arrived in Earthspace ahead of The Homeward Bound. But how was that possible, unless the Tirolean scientist, Cabell, had either been mistaken about the time of the Masters' departure from Tirol, or lying?

  "Colonel, Space Station Liberty wouldn't have issued the go-to for our insertion unless things were under control," Wilks suggested.

  Wolff glanced at him. "The assumption being that the Masters were defeated?"

  Wilks inclined his head to one side. "Their first wave, at least."

  Wolff compressed his lips. "Then explain how they managed to complete a twenty-year journey in under fifteen years, without the benefit of fold-capable star ships."

  "They knew a shortcut?" someone said, breaking the tension.

  Wolff let the laughter continue for a moment, before swiveling his chair to face the communications station. "Lieutenant Mouru, dispatch another burst to Liberty," he ordered, trying to ignore the roiling in his stomach. "And, this time, ask them what year it is."

  Any tanker worth his or her horned helmet knew all about Jonathan Wolff: one of the first cadets graduated from the Robotech Academy on Macross Island, defender of Venezuela Sector's Cavern City during the Malcontent Uprisings, commander of the illustrious Wolff Pack. And—what with his slicked-back black hair, pencil-thin moustache, and signature wraparound sunglasses—straight out of central casting. Dana had heard personal anecdotes about Wolff from Rolf, who had known him in the Southlands. Of course, Wolff was legendary among the ATAC, too, all the more so for having ridden to distinction in an ancient Centaur rather than in a modern Hovertank. Said to be dashing, romantic, and quite the charmer, Wolff had been a pinup in Dana's locker throughout her years at the Southern Cross Military Academy.

  She and Marie learned about Wolff's extraordinary transmission while they were returning the Legios to Liberty. At the same time, they received orders to reroute for ALUCE Base, which was to be Wolff's point of debarkation.

  ALUCE was an acronym for Advanced Lunar Chemical Engineering, and hadn't become a military installation until the final stages of the War. Still undergoing conversion, it was little more than a slope-sided trench of landing-pad alloy fronting a large, circular building—a kind of exclamation point in the center of Hayes Crater, at the northern rim of the Sea of Tranquility.

  But, like Tokyo, most of ALUCE was concealed from sight in a ten-level subsurface cylinder that had been inserted into a lava tube. The facility boasted separate areas devoted to power and life support, gravitronics, hydroponics, human services, training, recreation, and living quarters. The

  base's present though somewhat nominal commander was Major General Desmond Nobutu, a charismatic, square-jawed black man, who had demonstrated his mettle in the near-space mop-up operations that succeeded the destruction of the Masters' fortresses. Regardless, what remained of ALUCE's scientists, engineers, and technicians steadfastly refused to acknowledge Nobutu as their commander, and continued to answer solely to their own chiefs of staff.

  A blackout had been impos
ed on communication with The Homeward Bound upon receipt of Wolff's not entirely unexpected follow-up query about the current date. Clearly, he and his crew had been laboring under the same misconception John Carpenter had, in thinking that their spacefold from Tirol had been instantaneous. In Wolff's case, it was still unknown just when he had departed Tirol, but the very nature of the query left no doubt that Lang's latest generation of star ships were not without their problems.

  In the week it took The Homeward Bound to attain lunar orbit, Dana ran herself through a gamut of emotions concerning its arrival. With news of her parents and the rest of the REF looming on the horizon, she was suddenly forted to consider that her hallucinatory experience aboard the flagship had been tinged with prescience. But did the foreseen arrival of Wolff's ship mean that she should give equal credence to the vision's other elements? Did she, in fact, have a younger sister, who had somehow been able to contact her across the reaches of space-time? The possibility was as unsettling as the vision itself; and, because of it, she had scarcely managed more than a few hours of sleep each night.

  Driven by a sense that everything she said or did from that point forward would have wide-ranging consequences, she had decided not to reveal what the Zentraedi had told her about the Sensor Nebula. Defense Force command was going to press hard to enlist Wolff's aid in launching a strike against the intelligence-gathering cloud, but Dana planned to say nothing until she had heard Wolff out.

  By the time the colonel and his chief crew members arrived at ALUCE, dozens of officers and officials were waiting for them. But despite the brave

  smiles with which the crew of The Homeward Bound greeted their ovation, it was apparent from their awkward movements that they were unstuck in time; that the revelation about the chronological disparity had shaken them to their very cores.

  Wolff most of all, by the look of him.

  Everyone assembled in a small amphitheater on ALUCE level two, which was being forced on that occasion to accommodate twice the number of people it had been designed for. Wolff and some of his officers shared the amphitheater's focal point, along with generals Vincinz and Aldershot, representing the Southern Cross and the GMP, respectively; senators Constanza, Grass, and Harding; and several scientists from ALUCE and downside.

  Vincinz's adjutant, a burly major named Stamp, furnished The Homeward Bound contingent with a summary of the salient events of the past twelve years, commencing with the rise to power of Anatole Leonard and the Army of the Southern Cross. The war itself was given relatively short shrift, though Stamp did touch on several key incidents, including the arrival of Carpenter's ship, the capture and defection of Zor Prime, and the attack on Monument City and the Macross mounds, in which Leonard, Moran, Zand, Emerson, and thousands of others had died, and in which the Protoculture Matrix had been destroyed.

  Then, plainly disturbed by all that he had absorbed, Jonathan Wolff stepped to the podium and recounted the most incredible tale.

  As early as 2012—thanks to Zentraedi commander Breetai and his dwarfish advisor, Exedore—Humankind had been apprised of the existence of a myriad of intelligent races inhabiting the Milky Way galaxy. More recently, John Carpenter had supplied information about the Sentinels and their campaign to liberate the Invid-held worlds of Tirol's local group; the resizing of the Zentraedi and the renewal of mining operations on Fantoma; and about the schism that had split the Expeditionary Force.

  But unlike Carpenter, Wolff was able to supply firsthand accounts of the battle on Karbarra, the destruction of praxis, and the strange reversals

  that had occurred on both Haydon IV and Tirol. He told of the assassination of an Invid simulagent, for which he himself had seen blamed; and of the events that had led to his hijacking a star ship. And he told of the Sentinels' struggle to reverse a curse that had gripped the planet Peryton; and of the trial in which T. R. Edwards had been unmasked as a traitor. Finally, almost as an afterthought, he mentioned the child born to Max and Miriya Sterling on Haydon IV . . .

  But Wolff's was a maddeningly unfinished tale, for he had left Tirol shortly after Edwards and his Ghost Squadron had launched for Optera in order to join forces with the Invid Regis, and almost five years had passed since then. Consequently, there was no telling how the events in Tirolspace had played out, though the continued absence of the SDF-3 seemed to indicate that something untoward had occurred.

  When everyone in the auditorium had had several minutes to grapple with the implications of Wolff's account, General Aldershot asked him straight-out if the ship was fold capable.

  Dana was seated close enough to the podium to take note of Wolff's momentary hesitation.

  "Our aim was simply to come home." Wolff finally said.

  "But is it worthy for near-space travel?" General Vincinz asked. Wolff nodded. "Within limits. But for what purpose?"

  "To destroy the Sensor Nebula—which you yourself have indicated is a harbinger of the Invid."

  Wolff studied the Southern Cross commander in chief for a moment. "We could try, I suppose."

  "Try?" Vincinz sneered. "It has been proposed, Colonel, that the detonation of several thermonuclear warheads should suffice to disperse the cloud."

  "And if the cloud's already done its dirty work?" Wolff said.

  One of ALUCE's astrophysicists cleared his throat in a meaningful way. "We're going on the assumption that the Nebula also serves as a biological beacon—a kind of homing device for the swarm. Unless, of course, you can

  present us with evidence to the contrary."

  "No, I can't. As far as I know, the Nebulas contain some biological components, invested with a kind of raw Protoculture of the Regis's devising. Dr. Lang once characterized them as 'entropic,' but I'm not sure why." Wolff's frown faded, and in its place surfaced a look of heroic readiness. "I'd like to volunteer the services of myself and my crew to carry out the mission."

  Senator Constanza traded significant glances with his peers while separate conversations broke out throughout the hall.

  "We are deeply indebted to Colonel Wolff for the information he has provided, and for his offer to effect the destruction of the Invid Sensor Nebula," Constanza said when the amphitheater had quieted. "However, I must caution General Vincinz that he is not in a position to assign the mission to Colonel Wolff or, indeed, to any other officer."

  Vincinz came slowly to his feet to glare at Constanza. "Perhaps you should explain yourself, Senator."

  Constanza leaned back in his chair, almost as casually as he might have done in full-standard gravity. "In 2019, the Robotech Expeditionary Force was placed at the disposal of the United Earth Government, as represented by the members of the Plenipotentiary Council. And since we"—he gestured to his fellow senators—"are the vestiges of the UEG, it follows that Colonel Wolff—if he will excuse the phrase—is ours to command, with or without his ship, which I hereby place in the custody of the Global Military Police, until such time as it is deemed appropriate to execute a strike against the Nebula."

  Vincinz's face grew flushed. "You seem to be forgetting that the

  Southern Cross bears responsibility for defending the planet, Constanza."

  The senator was unmoved. "The leaders of the Southern Cross apparat are dead, or have been judged guilty of treason. T. R. Edwards—if he hasn't been executed—is probably imprisoned on some forlorn moon. And had they lived, Supreme Commander Leonard and Chairman Moran would surely be facing similar fates. What's more, 80 percent of the Southern

  Cross's ground-based forces have deserted, whereas 70 percent of General Aldershot's GMP forces have remained devoted to duty. Add to this the fact that two REF contingents have now returned to Earth, and only one conclusion can be drawn: the barbarous reign of Anatole Leonard is finally ended, General Vincinz."

  CHAPTER NINE

  We desperately wanted to host [Wolff's] parade, but Constanza and his bunch wouldn't hear of it. Manhattan was just too far removed from all that Rocky Mountain action: Macross, Monument,
Denver, and the rest. More importantly, as a city, we were still on the comeback trail, with too few residents and a dearth of mecha to give the parade the proper military touch. In retrospect, though, Constanza made the right choice. The parade would certainly have resulted in increased immigration, which would have only put more people in Manhattan when the Invid Regis arrived, and left more corpses in the streets after she doused us with death. You have to grant one thing, however: Despite the attacks by Dolza, the Masters, and the Regis, despite the staggering number of fatalities over the decades, the city itself never fell. The place was built to last.

  Mayor Mario Peebles, as quoted in Xandu Reem's

  A Stranger at Home: A Biography of Scott Bernard

  "The mole we placed within the Global Military Police reports that another warship has returned from Tirol," Kan Shimada announced to the table, between forkfuls of buttery-smooth steak. "The ship is smaller than the one that appeared last year, but well armed, and is under the command of a Colonel Jonathan Wolff, who was apparently a member of the so-called Sentinels. Since news of Wolff's arrival is to be made public next week, we have only until then to exploit this unexpected, and potentially inauspicious, development."

  The name of the restaurant was Tokonama. Situated six levels below Shinjuku Station and commanding a view of the entire Shinjuku dome, it was one of many Family-owned and operated establishments in the geo- grid. But the Tokonama was Kan Shimada's preference when he was in the mood for pre-Rain decadence; for the restaurant was renowned for its kobe beef, New Zealand wines, and exquisite desserts, which were often served in

  fanciful, edible containers.

  Misa knew from previous experience that Kan Shimada only indulged in pre-Rain fare when he had matters of a serious nature to discuss, and so she had come prepared to do more listening than eating. Terry Weston accompanied her, still downside on leave, though only that morning he had received orders to return to ALUCE on the next shuttle out of Tanegashima. They had spent a wonderful week together, and had even made love—once Misa had assured herself that Terry's feelings for Dana Sterling hadn't been rekindled by her brief visit to Tokyo.