World Killers

by Jack McKinney

  REF troopers were closing in from both sides, men and women alike. Probably, a lot of them were people who had listened to her songs at the service club. Minmei put her hand

  on the barrel of the Badger and pressed it down toward the ground. It didn't move.

  "I can get you away from here." Still that flat, tinny sound from Isle's helmet speaker. "Minmei, I can save you." It sounded like he was offering redemption.

  She was shaking her head. "By killing people? If you do, then god damn you! Because if one more person dies because of me, I'll kill myself."

  She said that last sentence showing her teeth to him, then turned as the spotlights were being lugged into place at the nearer end of the street. Minmei walked toward them as they converged. She had her hands out like a penitent saint.

  "Hold your fire! We'll surrender! But I want you to let this man go free, here where I can see it! If you don't release him, you won't have either of us alive!"

  She swooned a bit, leaning against a hard evercrete wall, and an indeterminate time passed. There were people around her, flashlight and handspot beams on her, people trying to peel her eyelid back as she screamed and spit and fought and slapped them away, bit at them, and shrieked the most obscene things she could think of.

  Then she calmed down. "Let him go," she wept. "Let him go."

  Then that most reviled of all voices was near her, Edwards's. "Let who go? Who was here, Minmei? Who kidnapped you?"

  Edwards was still some distance from her-his weren't the restraining hands gripping her. She gulped air and blinked away her tears and saw that Edwards's troops had secured the area, but Isle wasn't there. He was nowhere to be seen.

  She looked to the blank evercrete wall where she had last seen him. Maybe there were slight punctures in it; the light was too dim to tell, especially with men and women holding her down. But anyway, there was only one person she could think of who could-

  Edwards had been about to inflict new fear upon Minmei, some threat to scare her back into line. But Minmei's sudden, maniacal laugh put fear into him instead. "You know what you've finally done?" she screamed, frothing. "You've awakened the dead! And now your life is finished!"

  Minmei, gamine though she was, almost pounced on him with fingers extended like claws; it took several groundpounders to hold her back.

  "Straitjacket," Edwards said harshly, watching the struggle on the wet pavement.

  Rain ran from his alloy cowl and glistening eye-lens, and from the pale fury of his face. "Put her in a straitjacket and get her over to my headquarters."

  After the rest had gone, he looked at the wall to which Minmei had looked. In the dim light it was difficult to tell; those punctures were random-products of material defects and pitting and so forth, weren't they?

  And yet, someone had flown the Alpha that no one seemed to be able to find. Someone had been standing next to her in a flight suit.

  But Edwards didn't think Minmei would reveal the culprit's identity soon; he could hear her mad laughter and weeping as his security police bore her away.

  "Commander! Faster-than-light craft appearing before us, screening our course. Two SDF-escort class, and they're sending challenges."

  Breetai looked up from the private calculations he was making. "Patch it through."

  He rose from the captain's chair on the bridge of the Valivarre. He unhurriedly squared away his Zentraedi longcoat, which was heavy with braid and decorations, all of them paid for in strife and blood. His skullpiece, all crystal and resplendent alloy, reflected the light.

  "Attention, Valivarre!" came the Human voice. A face appeared on a screen above Breetai, a middle-age Human male's. The man was round-faced and florid, wearing a braided officer's cap.

  "This is Commodore Renquist of the REF cruiser Toku-gawa. On behalf of the Plenipotentiary Council, I order you to heave to and surrender yourself, your ship and crew, and the monopole ore."

  The two cruisers were both of the latest type, designed and built by Lang's people. Breetai was a bit surprised; he would have thought Edwards was too unsure of his own position on Tirol to send so many of his faithful off on the mission to bring back the Valivarre.

  As for Renquist, Breetai recognized the man's name. A lickspittle who had become one of Edwards's servants and been promoted over far more capable officers. Breetai had half expected Adams or Benson or one of the others from Edwards's inner circle to be in charge of any force sent against him, but Edwards must have realized that those traitorous vermin were nothing to send against the Valivarre and its hundred-strong Zentraedi warriors.

  "You are guilty of piracy and mutiny as well as treason," Renquist was saying, voice shaking a little. "I will remind you of your oath, and give you one and only one chance to

  surrender."

  "My oath and loyalty were given to the duly constituted Earth government, and to Admiral Hunter," Breetai boomed. "Not to your stinking General Edwards, or to you either, coward!"

  Renquist's face took on the pallor and distortions of molten candlewax. Sweat started from his brow. "You misbegotten freak! I'll have you blown to atoms!"

  Too bad the Valivarre hadn't gotten more of a head start, Breetai reflected. His chances of ducking the cruisers would have been good, and he thought it unlikely that Edwards would let half of his main line of defense roam far from Tirol, or be gone for too long.

  Of course, Breetai could try to evade them, but the faster SDF escort ships would dog his track easily. Furthermore, fighting a deepspace battle at superluminal speeds was tricky, and the advantage would lie with Renquist and his cruisers and Lang's new generation of weapons. It would be better to settle things here.

  Breetai crossed his arms on his enormous chest. "I hardly think that's likely, since you would destroy all the monopole ore left in this region. And none of you will ever get home to Earth, will you? Nevertheless, if battle is what you seek, the Zentraedi will gladly accommodate you. Breetai has never run from a fight. Come, then!"

  Renquist's throat worked as he swallowed laboriously; the bluff had failed, and both commanders knew it. In destroying the ore, Renquist would be sealing his own fate. He tried to show determination, but it only came out as a weak bluster. "By god, we beat you devils once, and we'll beat you again! If you don't surrender instantly, I'll give the order to launch!"

  Breetai nodded gravely. "Let us not keep our pilots waiting, Commodore."

  What Renquist had said was undeniable: the Humans had defeated the giant warriors years before. But this time Minmei wasn't there with her songs to turn Zentraedi against Zentraedi, and this time there was no SDF-1 with its final Barrier Shield explosion.

  Breetai thought of an expression he had heard Max Sterling use: We've got 'em over a barrel, and soon we'll have 'em in the barrel! Only, who would be thus vanquished this time?

  "He's launching mecha, my lord," a bridge tech said.

  But not many of them-certainly not as many as the cruisers carried. Perhaps it was a probe, or it might be that Edwards hadn't really spared as many of his Ghost Riders as it

  seemed at first. And maybe there was another element in this situation.

  "Order forth our Battlepods," Breetai said in his super-basso voice. "And order the gunners to fire at will at the mecha, but not at the cruisers, is that clear?"

  Alphas, Betas, and Logans rode trails of blue thruster fire across the eternal night, bearing down on the Valivarre. The huge Battlepods of the Zentraedi came out to meet them.

  The giants' mecha were like gargantuan headless ostriches-torsos suggesting alloy light bulbs mounted on two long reverse-articulated legs. The chest plastrons were bristled with cannon and missile racks. Officers' pods had, in addition, extra two-barrel gun mounts that they brandished as if they were huge derringers.

  The Human fliers were Ghost Riders, loyal only to Edwards, more than willing to slay the giants who had been Humanity's staunch allies not so long ago. They had been briefed on the pods'
vulnerable spots and performance profiles; they swept in confidently.

  One of the tactics that had given the Humans the upper hand in the Robotech War was developed when Miriya Sterling revealed a weakness in the pods' design. Concentrated fire on a spot just aft the junction of the legs would disable the pods and leave them drifting and helpless.

  The first surprise the Ghosts got was in discovering that the pods had been retrofitted to overcome the Achilles' heel, and the second was that the pods' own weapons and accuracy were deadlier than ever. Furthermore, Breetai's pilots had plenty of experience in fighting VTs, while the young Ghost fliers had been trained after the end of the Robotech War. And these Zentraedi were among the very best.

  The end result was that the first few moments of combat saw Ghosts exploding in fireballs and erupting in white-hot wreckage, as the outnumbered Battlepods took an immediate upper hand. Once again, missiles lit the blackness, and beams of raging energy bickered back and forth.

  Breetai watched a Logan come apart at the seams like a bursting melon, light and explosive force gushing from it. "We vowed to be your allies," he muttered, "but never your slaves or your victims."

  On the bridge of the Tokugawa, Renquist watched, mortified, as the Zentraedi drove off his first attack wave with heavy casualties, though the giants had taken a few hits themselves. Operations and intel officers and their computers had a dozen poor excuses and supposed analyses, but he brushed them aside. The Ghosts were simply being outflown.

  A face appeared on one of the side screens, a young flying officer. "Commodore, with all

  due respect, I must protest! We were given definite orders by the council to negotiate with Breetai before any direct action was taken!"

  Renquist narrowed his eyes, his jowls quivering. "Negotiate, hell! How dare you? One more word from you and I'll have you executed for mutiny!" At an angry gesture from the commodore, the connection was broken.

  But it reminded Renquist of another unfortunate aspect of his mission. As Breetai had guessed, Edwards was too wary to strip REF Base Tirol and SDF-3 of the bulk of his Ghosts and leave himself at risk. Therefore, nearly half the flying group assigned to Renquist was composed of elements drawn from the various other units remaining after the Skulls had been tapped for duty with the Sentinels. And the Jokers, Diamondbacks, and the rest were less eager to follow this departure from council instructions.

  But Renquist felt he had now seen the enemy's total strength. After all, there were only slightly more than one hundred Zentraedi altogether! All he had to do was to make sure the Human numerical advantage was absolute.

  The Zentraedi had won in a limited matching; but even after the initial defeat, Renquist could double the odds without resorting to any but the Ghost Riders and surely overwhelm the giants.

  He turned to a bridge officer. "Launch the rest of the Ghosts immediately and reform the survivors of the first attack wave. This time we're going to crush those alien scum!"

  Breetai had expected no less. The Alphas and Betas and Logans thronged at the Battlepods, driving them back or blowing them to smithereens, some of them breaking through and coming for the Valivarre.

  The ore vessel's gun batteries and missile racks opened up, but she was a mining craft, not a warship; soon, shots threatened to penetrate her shields. Breetai noticed that the Ghosts were being very deliberate, shooting for the engines and control sections, seeking to disable rather than destroy.

  The pods could no longer protect the ore ship. Breetai saw a badly damaged officer's mecha, beset by two Logans in Guardian mode, try to ram one of them. But the Logan avoided the kamikaze run and the two Humans got the pod in a crossfire, turning it into a fireball.

  Then they turned and, with others, formed up to add their firepower to the final assault on Valivarre. Breetai watched them dive in at him, his face like a graven idol's.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She was too brilliant not to see the ramifications of her act. In taking half her race off on the pursuit of the Ultimate Invid Form and the New Optera, she would be forcing her husband to fend for himself in many ways-to confront certain things, to learn certain things. Things that-it isn't inconceivable-could force deevolution to turn end for end.

  One possible motive for this is that there was some love for him in her still. Gitta Hopkins, Queen Bee: A Biography of the Invid Regis

  A low, angry, chainsaw growl from the Hellcat made Cabell glance warily toward the thing, but Veidt seemed not to register its presence. The Regent reached down to stroke his pet's head, enjoying Cabell's uneasiness.

  Cabell had good reason to be wary of the Invid Inorganic mecha called Hellcats. When the Invid first invaded Tirol, one had tried to tear him limb from limb.

  Those sitting on their haunches to either side of the Regent's throne were even larger than the usual, and Hellcats were far bigger than any saber-tooth that ever lived. They were a glassy indigo, their eyes gleaming like ruby lasers. They were armed with razor-sharp claws, sword-edged shoulder horns and tail, and glittering fangs. About their muscular throats were resplendent collars set with gems from many worlds.

  Cabell found himself transfixed by the 'Cats' baleful glares, so it was Veidt, looking and sounding serene as he floated there, who spoke. "Mighty Regent! Please accept our gratitude for granting us this moment of your attention. We know what great demands are placed on your time." He bowed solemnly.

  "You have no idea," the Regent contradicted in his growling, gurgling voice, "none whatsoever!" His mantle flared and the four-fingered hands balled into fists the size of kegs.

  "So do not flatter yourselves. I'm reconsolidating an interstellar empire, and you ask me to turn my thoughts to trifles. Still-noblesse oblige, and all that; I want it known that once I hold the universe in my fist, I will not be an unkind overlord." The mantle pulled back a bit.

  Veidt bowed his head but looked unperturbed.

  The Regent considered the matter with more caution than he would have admitted. The conflict revolving around Veidt, his mate Sarna, and Sarna's "father," Vowad-if such a concept as parentage could fairly be used with regard to Haydonites-concerned the whole planet. And it was one of the things that had worked to the Regent's advantage, he mulled.

  Brute force was the standard Invid method of dealing with the enemy, but here on Haydon IV that was impossible. But intrigue, like warfare, was an art the Opterans had acquired

  after Zor destroyed their idyllic existence. And so, the Regent knew there were certain games that must be played, and played to best effect. Thus, this interview.

  "No, you will find me most reasonable and benevolent, as I have been here today," the Regent added, knowing the planet itself was listening. "And how goes the healing?"

  Cabell had found his nerve again. He smoothed his flowing, embroidered robes, shrugged to resettle the high, stiff collar that surrounded his head, and stroked the white beard that nearly reached his waist. "Rather well, we think, though it's difficult to tell. The Haydonites are using a sort of therapy employing their arts of nanoengineering. Prognoses are good."

  "How fortunate for them." The Regent nodded, but he was silently angry that the effects of exposure to Garuda's biosphere hadn't killed the Hunters and the rest. "And now that you have brought me this report, you may go." The Regent gestured to his bodyguard commander to show the visitors out.

  "Just a moment." Cabell stopped him. "There is the question of my apprentice, the young clone Rem. I ask you to release him to us, that he may undergo the treatments, too."

  "I am not finished with Rem quite yet," the Regent said hatefully, glancing down at them. Even seated, the tyrant overshadowed them like some pharaonic statue. "And as for you, you may go."

  Now it was Cabell's turn to bristle; the anger in his voice quite surprised the Regent. "Not until you let me see that boy! Not until we take him for proper care!"

  Hearing his tone, both Hellcats came to their feet, spitting and showing their long fa
ngs. But Cabell was undeterred, meeting the Regent's fury with fury of his own.

  Veidt spoke before Cabell could, though. "Great Regent! All the galaxy has heard of your vast intellect and spirit. Here now is your chance to prove that you can show mercy. Consider what praise it will win you! Why, word of it would reach even to the Regis herself."

  Sly, the Regent mused, studying Veidt. For a race of artificial beings, the Haydonites showed surprising emotion and understanding of motivation.

  Veidt had touched a nerve. Very likely, the Regis's spies would inform her of such a matter as the Regent's showing mercy-or if not, his own agents could see to it that she heard. More than almost anything, he wanted to win her back. And while his headlong plunge into deevolution kept him from truly understanding those impulses that guided his onetime mate, the Regent thought that mercy shown to the Zor-clone would certainly please her.