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stirrings of the universe in advance of the attack and reflected on the
incredible way things had turned out there in the Micronian star system.
Hear my thoughts, Lord Dolza! To go down in battle is all we seek, from
the highest to the lowest. Mark me well, for this is the final battle of
Breetai!
In the hearing chamber, people were exhausted, but the marathon went on.
Computers and analysts were hooked in; G-staff members and evaluation teams
were ready.
"Dolza will assume you're too weak to fight," Exedore was saying, still
animated and prim in the midst of the most tiring activity. "He will divide
his fleet and attack from every side, sealing off any avenue of escape. But
this maneuvering will give you your only chance."
"Enough background; kindly be specific," Gloval snapped.
Exedore turned to a luminous tactical projection he had constructed with
the help of the SDF-1 computers.
"Their flagships will be here, here, here, and here, and Dolza's mobile
base will appear here; these are my best projections.
"If you can destroy these vessels, it will throw the entire Grand Fleet
into chaos."
"Simple military strategy," someone muttered.
"No; simple military strategy-of all-out, straightforward attack and
overwhelming numbers-is what has allowed our tactics to remain the same for so
long," Exedore countered. "That and the fact that the Zentraedi have never
lost a war."
Colonel Maistroff rubbed his face with his hand, as if he were washing.
"So, in short, we crush the head of the snake!"
Exedore nodded. He stepped away from the tactical display, pacing toward
the place where Gloval sat.
"With their attack forces in disarray, our only chance for survival is
to utilize the combined forces of the SDF-1 and our battlefleet. We are
already aware of the crude Robotech cannon in your planet's northern
hemisphere but consider it a minor element at best."
Gloval came to his feet. "I'm glad that we're now fighting on the same
side." He clasped hands with the gnomish little man.
"Yes, so am I." Exedore turned to Minmei, who was watching it all
unbelievingly. "And without your singing, this alliance between our peoples
would not have been possible."
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Kyle had assumed a hard expression, eyes closed, chin sunk on chest, lip
curled. But Minmei was in a sort of dream state. "Who, me? Really?"
Exedore nodded his head slowly. "While I don't profess to understand
Micronians, I now realize the importance of your singing. It touches emotional
resources to which we Zentraedi did not have access before-a courage that is
beyond mere courage in battle."
He seemed to blush a little; nothing could have surprised them more.
Even Kyle was shocked.
"Will...will you sing for us?" Exedore got out, face coloring furiously.
"So that we may hope for victory? Please, Miss Minmei."
"Of course."
She stood up, in that room where the plans were coming together that
would spell the death or life of worlds, the survival or slaughter of
billions. She drew a breath and sang in a voice as clear as polished diamond.
She sang "To Be in Love," one of her first compositions, still one of
her favorites. It was a simple song, and there was nothing in it of armies or
battles. It was about a closeness between two lovers.
Exedore and the three former spies were mesmerized. Kyle, eyes closed,
was cold and indifferent. Gloval, Max and Miriya, and the rest watched and
listened, immersed. Her voice soared to rebound from the domed ceiling.
Rick was transfixed, too, at first. The fact that he'd lost her didn't
make her any less desirable, especially now.
But then a new sound came to him, a sound he recognized even through the
intervening decks and bulkheads.
On the hangar decks, the elevators were at work, lifting Veritechs for
cat launch. For the final battle.
The finder beams had done their work. Now there was a brutal application
of force, and the warp and woof of the universe were ripped apart.
The Zentraedi had refined their targeting. This time, there was no
cosmic bow wave of incandescent fire. Instead, a green cloud of some kind
seemed to appear-until it became clear that every last mote in the cloud was a
warship.
Another cloud appeared nearby, and another. Then two at once, then
three. And soon the stars were blotted out. It was as if handfuls of sand had
suddenly become ugly battlecraft. More appeared, and more, in dense,
well-ordered formations, thicker than any hive swarm.
"There are too many for sensors to count," Vanessa said, sweating,
blinking behind her glasses. "Too many..."
"I have to go," Admiral Hayes told his daughter gruffly. "We'll talk
about this later-"
The PA interrupted. "Sensors register immeasurable defold activity.
Estimated enemy strength one million, three hundred-correction, two million,
one hundred thousand-stand by! Stand by! More enemy units arriving!"
Some other, less hysterical voice cut in. "Battle stations. Repeat,
battle stations." Alarms and sirens sounded, and nobody had to say that it
wasn't a drill this time.
Admiral Hayes swallowed, going pale.
Earth was engulfed in a net of enemy warships. They blotted out the
sun's light, appearing in their hundreds of thousands, taking up position for
the ultimate confrontation.
Claudia's face appeared in the hearing chamber on a display the size of
a movie screen. "Captain Gloval, monitor three shows enemy positions over the
western hemisphere."
The view came up. Still the sinister warcraft poured into Earth orbit
from nothingness. The drifting clouds of them stretched, established
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intervals, deployed for total coverage. Great blotches of green, whole
clustered space navies, were painted into the picture.
"Well, I'm afraid this is it," Exedore said. It looked, like the planet
was falling, in time-lapse photography, under a leprous infection of Zentraedi
combat green.
Minmei could only stare, her song forgotten. Max and Miriya took each
other's hands, and he was grateful that he had been granted the time they had
had together.
Even Kyle was aghast. If there was one there who was in the mood for the
scene, it was Rick Hunter. He watched the Grand Fleet spread and grow. Nothing
left to lose. Okay: A fight it would be.
Breetai, staring up at the displays that were still functioning on his
bridge, watched in awe. It was. the greatest single combat fold jump operation
in history, and it came off meticulously. Dolza was doing everything right so
far.
Breetai's clifflike jaw set. Opening moves and endgame were two
different things.
The night sky over the Alaska Base was lighter, with the reflections of
sunlight from the light underbellies of the warships taking up orbit. The
stars were obscured, hundreds at a time.
Watching the screens, Lisa heard her father moan. She turned and saw by
his expression that he realized, far too late, that the reports of the aliens'
strength were accurate and that five million ships were so many more than he
had ever envisioned.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
And so the Great Mandala spun, Two halves had learned They both were one
Mingtao, Protoculture: Journey Beyond Mecha
Among all the announcements of the loading of Decamissiles, the manning of gun
turrets, the frantic coordinating of target-acquisition and threat-priority
computers, there came word that Skull Team was to report to its fighters.
"Well. That's us," Max said, looking at the deck and then up at his
wife. He was really at a loss. Some traditionalism said that he should shield
her from harm; but Miriya was a better flier than anyone else aboard except
relax, and there was no safety, anywhere. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]