Dana seated herself at one of the forward stations. The lunar surface seemed near enough to touch, and she calculated that the large bright spot at one o'clock was the factory satellite, where repairs to the iris gate had commenced. Wolff took the adjacent chair and stared at the moon for a long moment before speaking.
"My first day on the factory satellite, I remember thinking that there couldn't possibly be a planet as beautiful as Earth. And now when I look out there, I find myself comparing Earth to worlds like Karbarra and Garuda and what was Praxis. Even Haydon IV and Tirol have their fine points— though Tirol's only a moon, and a rather forlorn one at that."
"It's so incredible that you've seen those places," Dana said.
He turned to her and smiled. "Maybe you'll see them one day, after all this is over and done with. Your father was always saying how he wished
you could see this or that place. You were never out of his thoughts, you know."
His words brought a lump to her throat. "I wish I could remember Max more clearly. Miriya, too. But I just have these vague memories. And I can't even sort out the real ones from all the stories Rolf told me."
"If your folks had had even a hint of what was to come, they never would have left Earth. They would have resigned their commissions."
"But then I might not have a younger sister." "Or maybe you'd have more than one."
She laughed at that, and listened intently while Wolff began to elaborate on some of the incidents he had touched on during the shuttle flight from ALUCE. He talked about Max's exploits with the Sentinels and about Miriya's close friendship with the members of the Praxian Sisterhood, and how she had saved the life of a Spherisian named Teal. He spoke, too, of his belief that Miriya's pregnancy had been influenced by the exotic atmosphere of Garuda, and by something called the hin.
Dana loved listening to him, and she couldn't wait to repeat for Bowie what Wolff had to say about Bowie's parents, Jean and Vince. She mapped Wolff's face with her eyes, and she catalogued his seemingly unlimited repertoire of expressions, which shifted continuously and seemed to draw her in all the more.
At some point he went from talking about the Grants to talking about his wife and son, whom he had apparently met with in Denver, though things hadn't gone well. And almost confessionally he revealed that he had been unfaithful to Catherine on Tirol. He had fallen in love with Lynn- Minmei, of all people, only to crash and burn when she had taken up with T.
R. Edwards. More than taken up with: had married in a bizarre ceremony aboard Edwards' ship, during its desperate flight to Optera.
"I came this close to killing Edwards with my bare hands," Wolff said, regarding his fists, "just after the trial. Like all cowards, he ran, and I chased him, convinced that I was going to kill him if I caught him. But I collided with a young kid—Lang's nephew, I think it was, Scott something-or-other—
and Edwards got away. I'm sure that he kidnapped Minmei. I know she wouldn't have gone with him of her own free will."
Dana wrestled with the irritation his statements roused. Why was he taking responsibility for Minmei's actions? What compelled everyone to feel so overprotective toward her? Just because she was The Voice that had helped defeat the Zentraedi? The problem was that most people simply didn't know her as Dana did—that is, as well as Max and Miriya and Lisa Hayes knew her. They didn't know what a self-serving little priss she could be, and how she had jerked Rick Hunter around for years. Why, she wouldn't even be on Tirol if she hadn't arranged to be caught up in the SDF- 3's spacefold—and she'd only done that to remain close to Rick, surely in the hope that he and Lisa would fall on hard times. And while she was waiting for that to happen, she had snared Jonathan in her web—
"You shouldn't condemn yourself for being attracted to Minmei," Dana said suddenly. "You were far from home, and she's a seductive . . . woman."
"That she is," Wolff mused. "But I can't help wondering, if she hadn't gotten involved with Edwards . . ."
"Would you still have made the decision to return to Earth?"
He nodded. "How do I know I'm not just running back to Catherine on the rebound?"
His right hand was on the console between them, and Dana reached for it without thinking. "That's why you're here—to find out."
Wolff held her gaze for a long moment, then blew out his breath and swiveled his chair to face the bulkhead hatch. "We'd better go check on your friend, Louie, and the rest of them. I don't want them thinking they have run of this ship."
No sooner had he said it and stood up than Louie came through the hatch, with his goggles pushed up onto his high forehead and a defeated look on his face.
"Is there any hope?" Dana asked, hurrying to him.
Louie shrugged. "Gibley's never seen anything like it. The power-core module is effectively designed to clip onto the ship, which suggests that
Lang's design teams mean for the driver to be interchangeable. But it's alien technology. It'll be months before we analyze even a fraction of the data stored in the ship's computers.
"And the spacefold generators?"
Louie slipped the goggles down over his eyes. "Good for a one-way trip."
Dana and Wolff sighed at the same time. Though, later, it would occur to her that his sigh seemed informed more by relief than disappointment.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Much as the Internal Revenue Service had not only survived but prospered during the Global Civil War and the First Robotech War, the GMP emerged from the Masters' War [sic] as a more powerful entity than it had ever been. This reversal of fortune, however, was less a consequence of the deaths of Leonard and Moran than the deaths of sixty four Southern Cross- friendly delegates, who had been killed in the Masters' strike on the Senate Building in Monument City. As it happened, the building had two underground shelters, one of which was favored by members of the Southern Cross old-boy network, and the other by those politicos who had risen to power with the Robotech Defense Force; and the Masters' light fell on the Southern Cross side . . . Not three months after the end of the Masters' War, the GMP enjoyed what amounted to absolute authority to detain, arrest, search and seize, surveil, infiltrate, and subvert as the agency saw fit. And in this, the GMP couldn't have been served better than by deputy directors Colonel Alan Fredericks and Lieutenant Nova Satori.
"Upheaval", History of the Third Robotech War,
Volume III
The Shimadas had arranged a hero's welcome for Gibley's team— including Louie Nichols—just arrived from three days of intense debriefing at GMP headquarters. Held at Kan Shimada's palatial home in the geo-grid, the celebration featured singers and costumed dancers, bubble-blowing machines, storms of flower petals, and cases of ramune—old-fashioned ginger ale, served in bottles sealed with glass marbles. Attendance was mandatory for all upper-echelon members of the Family, a group that totaled some two hundred people. Terry Weston had returned from the Southlands just to attend; though Misa, captivated by the starchildren's flourishing base of Operations, had opted to remain in Argentina a while longer.
It was not, however, until the inner circle had retired to the estate's Edo-style garden teahouse that Kan Shimada broached the subject of The Homeward Bound, and then only after tea had been ceremoniously served and a measure of dusk had been imparted to the artificial sky. What with the diffuse sunset effects and the cherry trees lining the moat, you could almost believe you were on the surface.
"As all of you are aware," Kan Shimada told his sons and advisers, "I have never—much to my regret—ventured higher than one hundred thousand feet above our world. I have fond memories of the years before the Rain, when we talked of building a resort on the moon, and of raising pyramid and volcano-shaped cities on Earth. I regret, too, that the imminent arrival of the Masters compelled us to withdraw our financial support from Mars Base—though in light of what occurred we were certainly judicious to do so.
"Outer space has long fascinated me, but destiny has drawn me inward, as it were. And yet"�
�he glanced at Gibley's team, who occupied places of honor at the table—"with our having been allowed to survey the interior of Colonel Wolff's ship, I now feel that I have journeyed—in proxy—at least partway to the stars."
Shimada fell silent for a moment. "Let us go to the heart of the matter," he then said. "Can the ship be induced to fold?" He directed the question to Gibley; but—with a look—Gibley handed it off to Louie.
"The Homeward Bound is already fold capable," Louie announced to surprised murmurs from everyone but Kan Shimada. "Thanks to Gibley's way with intelligent machines, we were able to wring enough out of the on- board computer to learn that Protoculture levels are much higher than anyone would be led to believe. Lang's technicians fashioned some clever camouflage, but Protoculture has a way of revealing itself. That's how the Masters were able to zero in on the burial site of the SDF-1. They scanned for the Protoculture Matrix."
Kan Shimada's expression was unreadable. "Is Colonel Wolff merely being, shall we say, discreet, or is he himself in the dark as to the ship's
capacities?"
"He definitely knows what he has," Gibley answered, "since he's the only key that can unlock the fold generators."
Unable to contain his enthusiasm, Louie spoke up. "The spacefold system is keyed to a voice-recognition code Wolff alone can supply. Without that code, we can't even converse with the generators, much less enable the system itself."
Shimada pressed the tips of his fingers together. "Given time, could we supply the machine with a facsimile of the code?"
"We're already working on that, Mr. Shimada," Gibley said. "But we'd stand a better chance if we could revisit the ship."
Shimada nodded in understanding. "Then, in order to ensure our remaining on good terms with them, we must begin to provide the GMP and the Defense Force with something of value. The Southern Cross never took much interest in artificial intelligence and robotics, but perhaps if we showed them some of our results . . ."
Gibley was nodding his head. "One thing we could do is try to interest them in sending a robot-crewed ship against the Invid Sensor Nebula."
"Pursue that course," Shimada encouraged. "And in the meantime, continue to work on deciphering Wolff's code." He cut his eyes to Louie. "Is it your assumption that the fold generators have been pretasked to return the ship to Tirol?'
"I'm leaning in that direction. Lang seems to have relied heavily on the technology that the Masters incorporated into the Zentraedi ships. The Homeward Bound is designed to be user friendly by personnel with limited expertise, and, in effect, is capable of executing a wide range of programs on its own. Wolff doesn't have to submit to a retinal scan or a vein scan to enable the spacefold generators. All he has to do is give the code. And that's certainly deliberate on Lang's part, because he wanted the ship to remain operational even if something happened to Wolff. In fact, I'm willing to bet that the ship could execute a spacefold without any crew."
Shimada paused to consider the implications. "The ship could be sent
away on its own?"
Louie nodded. "Properly prompted."
Shimada looked at Terry Weston. "It seems that we may have been premature in sending you and Misa to Argentina."
Terry's mouth twitched uncertainly. "We don't need their help, that's for sure. But maybe we can help them."
Shimada raised an eyebrow.
Terry said, "Louie, can more than one ship be folded during a jump?"
It was obvious that the question piqued Louie's curiosity, but he kept his thoughts to himself. "There's some precedent for it. Macross Island was folded to Plutospace along with the SDF-l. And it appears that a small ship carrying Lynn-Minmei and Janis Em was folded to Fantoma along with the SDF-3. But I'm not sure I'd want to risk hitching a ride that way."
Shimada glanced at Terry. "Your concern for them is commendable, Terry, but Louie is correct: folding in tandem is too unreliable, and too dangerous. In attempting to help them, we could end up thwarting them. Therefore, we must undo our mistake immediately. Inform our agent in Argentina to apprise her supposed handlers of the launch plans. But make certain our name doesn't come up."
"Hai," Terry said softly, inclining his head.
Shimada was quiet for a moment, then he looked at Gibley. "Without the code, we can do nothing?"
"Without the code, and Wolff to vocalize it," Gibley amended.
"Then we must first determine if Wolff can be enticed or coerced into revealing the code. I want to hear your thoughts on the matter."
Gibley locked his hands behind his head and smirked. "Well, he and Dana Sterling seemed to be getting pretty chummy."
Slowly, everyone turned to Louie, who was still trying to make sense of Kan and Weston's veiled conversation about Argentina. "Would Dana Sterling be likely to assist in our efforts, or to undermine them?" Shimada asked.
Louie pondered the questioned, then smirked. "I think she'd be willing
to help us. She has her own reasons for wanting to see that ship return to Tirol. A hundred and thirty of them, to be exact."
"The Starchildren are planning to raid Wolff's ship?" Alan Fredericks said to Nova in a tone of amused incredulity. And just how are they planning to do that, with The Homeward Bound two hundred thousand miles away?"
"Our informant wasn't specific on that point. But apparently they're planning to use their own ship to get them there."
The skepticism in Fredericks's bemused smile deepened. "Weren't we given to understand—by this same informant—that Napperson's Hope was just that: more pipe dream than promise?"
"They've found some new financial backers." "Who?"
Nova shook her head. "Our girl didn't say." "Couldn't say or wouldn't?"
"She'll tell everything she knows for a single-payment bonus of three million dollars."
Fredericks made a tsking sound. "Greedy little thing, isn't she?"
They were in Fredericks's office in GMP headquarters, where serious renovation work was in progress. The whine of power tools infiltrated the room, which smelled strongly of joint compound and acrylic primer. Fredericks's desk was an oak antique, piled high with computer tapes and hard-copy reports. The fixed-pane window overlooked the parking lot and the foothills of the Rockies. Only two years earlier, the cubical building had been a hotel.
Fredericks drummed his fingers on the desktop, while Nova took a moment to inspect the active-length nails of her right hand. "Have you discussed this offer with Aldershot?' he asked after a moment.
"He wants us to handle it."
"Of course. Now that he's been bumped up to commander of Tactical Space Corps, he has no time for the mundane world of intelligence
gathering."
Nova shrugged. "Something like that. He isn't convinced about the Starchildren information, but he did suggest that we respond as if."
"Lest the GMP be caught with its pants down." Fredericks sniffed. "Well, I refuse to be pumped for additional funds. Not another dollar goes to our informant. The identity of Napperson's backers, in any account, isn't crucial to our response. Do you think Napperson realizes that Wolff's ship is incapable of executing a spacefold?"
That information had been supplied by Louie Nichols and the Shimada team on their return from The Homeward Bound. Debriefed, they had been released a week earlier. It remained to be seen just what research data Shimada would turn over to the Defense Force, now that the GMP had lived up to its side of the bargain.
"Napperson's obviously willing to settle for Reflex furnaces, in a pinch," Nova said. "What's more, she probably feels that she'll be doing Earth a favor by further reducing our arsenal."
Fredericks shook his head in transparent disapproval. "Sounds as though she and old man Shimada would make the perfect couple. Perhaps the Invid Regis will award them merit badges for their efforts in her behalf." He sighed. "Well, I don't see that we have any choice but to delay their launch schedule."
Nova brushed her hair away from her face. "Seems a shame, after all they've a
ccomplished."
"They'll have themselves to blame. I'm disappointed, though, that the Starchildren would resort to sedition. Not to mention that they would fail to consider that we'd get wind of their plans. Still, as much as I dislike our informant, I think it's best to carry out our directive without compromising her. Who knows, she may decide to supply us with the name of Napperson's most recent convert free of charge."
Nova quirked a cunning smile. "Do you have a subcontractor in mind?" Fredericks nodded. "A competitor, you might say."
"I didn't know that the Starchildren had any competitors."
"For Wolff's ship, they do." Fredericks waited for Nova's surprise to show, then added, "We need simply to arrange for General Vincinz to hear of Napperson's plans. Given the Southern Cross interest in Wolff's ship, I suspect that everything will see to itself from that point on."
Nova nodded in comprehension. "Speaking of Wolff, there's growing concern about his taking part in the Nebula mission."
Fredericks's brow furrowed. "What's behind that, do you suppose?" "I can only tell you what I've been hearing."
Fredericks's thin fingers made a beckoning gesture.
"Now that the ship's been off-loaded of data and REF mecha, people are saying that Wolff and his crew are too valuable to risk on an operation that's not only dangerous but of questionable worth to begin with."
"Do you concur?" Fredericks asked her. She shrugged. "There's some wisdom in it." "Who, then?"
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