They hadn’t spoken to one another since Komodo’s death. They felt uneasy in each other’s company.
“He’ll recover. Listen, Nova, I’m really busy right now, so if you don’t mind …”
That kind of evasiveness from the 15th’s CO set off alarm bells in Nova’s head. Now what were these eight balls up to?
Musica held back panic, enclosed by armor that seemed ready to crush her, fearful of what life among Humans might hold. Oddly enough, it wasn’t any of those, or the danger of exposure, that beset her the worst just then. Instead, it was a comparatively little thing, the sickly-sweet, rubbery smell of the ATAC helmet’s breather mask; she was nauseous, not sure how long she could control herself. The 15th, long since oblivious to the smell, had forgotten how it sometimes affected boot trainees.
She did her best to be brave, but wasn’t sure she was up to it.
* * *
“Looks like somebody else took a hit, too.” Louie and Angelo, suit helmets doffed, were carrying the stretcher themselves. As they passed Nova, they both suddenly put on expressions more appropriate to a poker game than a homecoming.
Nothing they could say could keep Nova from getting to the stretcher, throwing back the blanket. Dana sighed, and took off the reclining trooper’s helmet when Nova threatened to do it herself.
Sean Phillips smiled up at her. “Shrapnel, right in the big toe, can ya believe it? But I still qualify for a medal and recuperative leave, and it does smart, and—”
Nova upended the stretcher and walked away. Dana was yelling at the few 15th troopers around her—her core group—to get busy and off-load the Hovertanks, and she even gave Sean a swift kick. Then she barked at another, “You, too! Hurry along there, Private Doppler! Double time!”
Then they had disappeared back into the transport. Nova stalked away angrily, but stopped suddenly. “ ‘Doppler’?”
Minutes later, GI personnel staff was confirming that the only Private Doppler was a 15th trooper who had died during the assault that had temporarily brought down the mother ship, weeks before.
Who could Dana be hiding, if that’s what she’s doing? The only possibility seemed too farfetched. Even Dana wouldn’t be that crazy.
“Here: Lemme take a look at you.” Dana felt only mild jealousy that Musica looked better in one of her outfits than Dana herself.
Musica turned 180 degrees self-consciously. Her green hair would fit in with current Earth fads; caught back as it was in a heavy clip, nearly reaching her waist, it was gorgeous. “But—these garments expose my legs.”
“With legs like yours, Musica, I wouldn’t let it bother you. See for yourself, in the mirror.”
Musica did, pulling at the puffy sleeves of the pink blouse, the hem of the full skirt “Why is it whenever I wear something like that it makes me look about ten years old?” Dana wondered aloud.
They decided to let Bowie enter at last and cast his vote. It took him a while to find words, and when he did all he could say was, “I’ll write a song about it.” Musica’s face shone.
Angelo called from the hospital to tell them Zor was being released. The rest of the 15th was in one of the ships that had gone to ALUCE with Emerson, and had been seconded to the 10th ATAC squad, another Hovertank unit. Since the 15th was badly under strength, it wasn’t on alert or standby; Dana decided that a party was in order.
“Get Zor over to the Moon of Havana by eight, okay, Angie? We’ll meet you there.”
It was good to be alive.
In the mother ship to which the Masters had withdrawn when their own flagship was atomized, Allegra and Octavia were thrust into a detention area.
They were still in shock. Muse clones simply weren’t treated this way!
But they saw that much had changed, and this wrath of the Masters was only part of it.
Deprived of their instruments and, in Musica’s absence, a vital part of themselves, they trudged into the cheerless and impersonal holding area. The clones confined there were dispirited and lethargic.
The two Muses huddled together in a corner, fearful of what might come next. “It’s all because of Musica,” Allegra said bitterly. “She abandoned us and betrayed her own people! They can’t understand that her sins aren’t ours, so they’ve cast us away in here!”
“Allegra—”
But she cut Octavia off. “I feel—” Allegra made a vague, angry gesture, to express the rage for which she had no word.
“Musica is our sister; we three are one,” Octavia said soothingly. But she was troubled. Didn’t Allegra see that she was falling victim to the same malady that had claimed Musica? Apparently, the sickness called “emotion” had more than one symptom.
The party started with a toast to the ATACs who had been killed or wounded in the battle. Then, one to the members of the 15th who had been redeployed to ALUCE. After that, life, love, and happiness were the subjects. The ATAC troopers had no urge to toast victory or rehash the battle—it was time to forget the war for a while.
The manager gave the 15th a great table, a circular banquette. Soon Bowie was at the Moon of Havana’s piano. Musica sat, absorbed in his playing. And the songs he played were new, like nothing she had ever heard or thought of before! And he was making some of it up as he went along! These Humans were truly astonishing.
Things were going fine until they realized Nova Satori was Standing in front of their table. Dana couldn’t think of anything to do but invite her to sit down.
Nova sat, and turned to Musica. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Lieutenant Nova Satori of the GMP. You are …?”
Musica looked nervously to Dana for rescue. “Friend of Bowie’s,” Dana replied. “We haven’t been able to get her to say ‘boo’ all night. Another musician—plays the ukulele or something like that, I think he said.”
Nova was about to press Musica some more, when Dana interjected, “What d’you hear from Dennis, Nova?”
That shook Nova off the track. “I—he’s part of the force that went to ALUCE with General Emerson. He, he got in touch on a back-channel and said he’s all right.”
Before Nova could go back to her interrogation, Bowie finished a number and the crowd’s uproar drowned her out. Bowie was forced to do an encore. Musica floated on the sounds he made, but she couldn’t help thinking, If my sisters were here, we would play them music of great beauty, too!
She was suddenly filled with emptiness. She hung her head, shaking it so that the green hair swayed. “Oh, sisters, forgive me!” She said it low, so the policewoman wouldn’t hear.
“No, Musica,” Zor, next to her, countered quietly. “Betrayal cannot be forgiven. I am beyond forgiveness and so are you.”
His memories were merging, surfacing, becoming available to his conscious mind. He was becoming the original Zor, with all the regrets and despair. He was thinking, too, of that awful final moment, when he destroyed the flagship, and the deaths of uncounted defenseless clones—no, people!
Angelo didn’t interfere, for the moment. He saw how living among Humans was both a joy and a torment to Musica, a lot like a kid’s story he remembered, The Little Mermaid. Funny how that just popped up; he hadn’t thought of it for decades.
Sean grabbed the shoulder of Zor’s torso harness. “Hey, modulate, there, trooper!” But Zor wrenched himself loose and strode from the nightclub.
Musica, watching him go, began to slump into a faint. Sean and Louie were quick to catch her. As tactical withdrawals went, dropping off Musica at her nonexistent apartment was a little thin, but it was all Dana could come up with.
Nova watched the 15th leave, just barely having kept them from sticking her with the check. Go ahead and play out your hand, Dana. You haven’t got much left.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Hey, Billy!
You said you owed me one, and if I needed a favor, just ask.
Okay.
Things are a little tight right now, and living on deuce private’s pay is tougher than I reme
mbered You and I know each other, so you’ll forgive me if I call the debt in.
Things’ve gotten strange here, but when was it otherwise? By the way: that kid they gave my 15th squad to? She could’ve been worse.
Anyway, I’m gonna need some money and I’m gonna need some favors. We’ve got the Plague of Love around here.
Your old pal, Sean Phillips
SNEAKING MUSICA BACK ONTO THE BASE AND THE BARRACKS compound wasn’t too hard. The ATACs were a little worried about Nova, but they forgot about that when they saw Bowie and Musica embrace.
It’s a good thing we’ve got some vacant quarters available, Dana thought. She was thinking more and more these days of how well Sean adjusted to losing his commission and hoped she could be as upbeat once they busted her. Bowie and Musica’s being together seemed, against all expectation, like something that justified that risk.
Then a commotion off to one side had the rest realizing that Zor had wandered off and Angelo had followed. “What d’ya mean, you shoulda stayed on the mother ship?”
Zor was leaning against a tree, eyes to the grass, arms folded. He answered in a low voice, “It was where I belonged.”
“And you’d’ve been killed.” Angelo’s fists were on his hips. He didn’t look aside as the other ATACs and Musica came up.
“That’s exactly my point. Besides, then I’d merit a hero’s funeral, isn’t that right? A golden opportunity for you to display those precious emotions of yours—weeping for the fallen comrade, and all that.”
Angelo felt betrayed. He had doubted Zor from the beginning, had seen him turn traitor—then come back to his senses and fly right again. He had carried Zor over his own shoulder, saved Zor as Zor had saved him.
Zor was one of the 15th, and it wasn’t something Angelo granted lightly. And now Zor was spurning that, making a fool of the sergeant.
But worse, infinitely worse, Zor was saying that Angelo liked grieving for dead buddies, got some kind of sick charge out of the most wrenching pain the sergeant knew. It insulted Angelo and, more, made a sham of the deaths of brave men and women.
One minute a red tide was rising up Angelo’s neck and face; the next, Zor was flat on the ground with a split lip.
Dana knew words weren’t going to do much good, so she got in Angelo’s way and threw a straight right to the sergeant’s sternum. It was like punching a bus tire, but it halted him—more through shock than pain.
“Get up. You ain’t hurt. Yet,” Angelo told Zor.
Zor rose, rubbing his jaw. “So I’m to be happy that I’m alive to go out and kill or be killed again tomorrow?”
Dana pushed Angelo away when he would have gone at Zor again. “Back off! That’s an order!” She could hear Musica running off, sobbing, and Bowie going after her, but Dana had no time for that lesser crisis at the moment.
She turned to Zor. “You think it’s going to make you feel better to get us to hate you? It won’t! Quit punishing yourself and quit trying to get Angie to do it for you! Whatever’s in your past is over with! And besides, you had no control over what you did; we all know that. Zor, it’s time to let all of that go, and begin again.”
He looked down at her as if seeing her for the first time: just an uncivilized Micronian, scarcely more than a wild animal by the standards of the Robotech Masters. Where was she finding these words? What were the sources of this wisdom?
But his inner torment gave him the strength to resist her. “Begin what? Dana, it will always be the same! This incarnation, like all the others. That is my punishment! I can’t even trust my own mind and I’m tired. I’m so tired of it all!”
He didn’t even know why he had escaped the flagship’s destruction at the last moment; some survival reflex had taken over. He had begun regretting it at once.
He brushed past them. When Angelo snarled some objection, he shot back, “Just leave me alone! It’s my problem, and I’ll deal with it.”
“Bowie, I’m so sorry. I feel that this is all my fault,” Musica said, tears rolling down her face.
“Sorry that we survived, Musica? Sorry that you and I are together?”
“Oh, no! But—why am I so unhappy? Why is there pain all around us?”
“Because our people are at war. But we can’t let that keep us from loving each other!”
He took her in his arms. She was slightly taller, laying her head on his shoulder. “You and I will be different,” he told her. “We’ll be an island of peace in the middle of all this hatred and misery. We’ll have each other.”
“Her name is Musica. You’ll find her at the barracks of the Fifteenth ATAC squad.”
Nova couldn’t believe what she was hearing; she looked at the phone handset as if it were an alien artifact. Around her, the bustle and buzz of Global Military Police HQ seemed to fade. “You mean the girl I saw at the Moon of Havana?”
“I suggest you apprehend her as soon as possible,” the firm male voice said, “before she manages to—”
“Just hold on. Who is this?”
“Can’t you guess, Nova?”
“Zor? Listen, what’s this all ab—”
But he had hung up.
Dana, deciding it was time to make more concrete contingency plans, was about to knock at the door of her own quarters when she stopped, transfixed.
It was a sound so ethereal that at first she didn’t recognize it as a Human voice. Then she knew Musica was singing, and that the Muse herself was an instrument as hypnotic and magnificent as the Cosmic Harp. The notes soared, evoking emotions both familiar and unknown.
“come, let me show you
our common bond
it’s the reason that we live
Flower, let me hold you we depend upon
Power that you give….”
She sang of the galaxies, of the depths, of the long story of the eons, and Dana found herself seeing stars swarm before her eyes. Musica’s voice moved her with powerful tidal forces of feeling, giving her Visions.
She sensed a great epoch unfolding, something about Zor and a frightening but tragic alien race and—things just beyond the realm of her perception.
“we should protect the seed
or we could all fade away
Flower of Life
Flower of Life
Flower …”
Lyrics © Copyright 1985 Harmony Gold Music, Inc.
Outside, Zor turned to hear the siren song. Then he continued on his way to await Nova.
Dana saw worlds from other star systems. She saw wonders and horrors. It seemed that the voice coming from the other side of the door had split into three, harmonious and almost identical, flawlessly matched and perfect.
She saw something from her own dreams and visions: a triad of three-petaled flowers of a delicate coral color, drifting through the air, trailing long stamens. The flowers themselves grew in a Triumvirate. One drifted past, brushing her cheek. She looked down at it in amazement, where it rested on the corridor floor.
The song faded; the Flower disappeared. Even as Dana blinked herself back to full awareness, many of the things she had envisioned faded from her memory, and she was left with vague shadows of recollection.
She lunged into her quarters. Bowie was still on the bed, Musica by the window.
“What was that?” Dana burst out. “Musica, you sang something about—the Rower of Life, was that it?”
“Yes, Dana. That is right.”
Dana turned to Bowie. “I’m sure that’s the flower we found in the ruins of the SDF-1! The day we sneaked in there, remember? Those plants that moved by themselves?”
How could he forget? It was like some malign greenhouse, something that didn’t belong on Earth, that belonged on no sane world. “And you think there’s a connection?” He didn’t sound excited about it, just alarmed.
“Could that be it, Musica?” Dana asked. “Could that be what the war is all about?”
“The Robotech Masters have not given it to me to know that, Dana, but for your sake,
I hope there are no Flowers of Life here. They are often accompanied by great evil.”
Louie Nichols burst into the room. “Read it and weep! Nova’s downstairs with a bunch of GMP gorillas and she wants to see you, Dana.”
It’ll be all right,” Dana told the frightened Musica and the grim Bowie. “C’mon, Louie; let’s go see what the Gimps want.”
“Unauthorized person in the barracks?” Dana gave Nova her best wide-eyed look. “What makes you think there’s one around here?”
“Zor told me.”
The odds looked bad. The GMP apes were armed, and outnumbered the unarmed ATACs. Maybe there’ll just be time for Angie to finish what he started on Zor.
Zor, for his part, stood studying the floor, ready to accept their loathing—anticipating it. Dana wondered if Zor’s treachery was committed to make it easier for him to end his own life or perhaps, commit some even worse betrayal.
Dana turned back to Nova. “She saved our lives. When it comes right down to it, Musica saved the whole fleet.”
“Tell it to the brass.”
“Sure, Nova, while they’re busy sticking electrodes in her ears and trying to light her up like an arcade game. Would it help to tell you she and Bowie love each other?”
Dana knew it wouldn’t—not now, with all the GMP goons standing around as witnesses. But she wanted Nova to know just how much harm she was doing, every bit of it.
“I always thought, as Gimps went, you were the exception to the rule, Nova, but I see now: you fit in just fine! C’mon; let’s go.”
Dana turned to lead Nova and her squad upstairs. She had hoped she could hide Musica until Rolf Emerson could get back from ALUCE and intercede. All that was hopeless now. Maybe Dana could go outside the chain of command, appeal directly to the UEG council? Her career was over either way.
Zor was standing near the stairs. Dana gave him one brief, chilly glance. “You had the chance to do something good and kind for a change. It might have made up for a lot of the stuff that’s torturing you so, did you ever think of that?”
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