“Janice did?” Rick said, surprised.
“I distinctly remember her asking for Milburn’s views on the network, and he was just so cool, so casual about everything. Just like Kyle used to be before his drinking got out of hand. You never knew what he was really thinking.”
Rick scratched his head. “Where is Kyle?”
“I almost wish I knew.” She was quiet for a moment, then looked at him earnestly. “Will you promise me one thing? That we can stay friends even after you and Lisa get married?”
“Of course we can.”
“Close friends?”
“Best friends.”
Minmei linked her arm through his, rested her head on his shoulder, and sighed. “I love the view from here. Remember the view from the park in the SDF-1? Remember how real EVE made the sky look, and how wonderful it was to look at the stars from the observation bay?”
“I sure do.”
“You’re so lucky to be going back into space. I don’t suppose the REF would like to take a singer to Tirol?”
Rick snorted a laugh. “The Expeditionary mission won’t be a pleasure cruise. Just ask Breetai or Exedore. We have no idea what we’re going to confront.”
“So—no singers.”
“Not unless we receive some word from the Robotech Masters that they’re planning a joyous reception in our honor.”
The wind picked up a bit, laden with the scent of pine. “You know what really bothers me, Rick?” Minmei asked. “The image everybody has of me as helpless, or perennially victimized. I’m not I’m strong, and I want people to understand that.”
“Your good friends know that. That’s why we always support your choices.” Rick grinned. “Even if some of them turn out to be wrong.”
She narrowed her eyes, then smiled. “Yeah, just like I support your choices. And let’s hope some of those don’t turn out to be wrong.”
They laughed, and began to talk of better days and friends they hadn’t seen in a long while. When a family of five drove up in a mufflerless minivan, robbing the moment of its poignancy, they went to sit in her rental.
A moment later, a lone figure began to pick his way out from under the balcony, where he’d been lying amid the beamwork that supported the cantilevered slab of concrete. He had followed Minmei from Monument City, and in fact had been tailing her for the past several weeks. His motorcycle—an older version of the one Hunter rode—was secreted in the bushes below the uppermost switchback in the road that climbed to the parking area.
Minmei was deluding herself, Kyle thought. She wasn’t strong, she wasn’t independent. She would continue to be victimized. She needed someone to watch over her, to spot the bad choices before they happened, or to effect the course corrections that would keep them from going bad. In short, she needed him. The Zentraedi rebels had undermined themselves and were finished. She would become his new cause; Kyle, her invisible guardian. Even if that meant returning to the stars.
Zand’s nose was broken, his eyes were blackened, and his right arm was in a sling. Lang stood staring at him from the doorway to Zand’s office in the Tokyo Research Center, to which the professor had fled following the regrettable incident in Monument City.
“Tell me exactly what happened, Lazio,” Lang said, closing the door behind him and pulling a chair up to Zand’s hopelessly cluttered desk.
“What happened? I was assaulted by a brainless RDF major named Rolf Emerson, that’s what happened. I’ve a good mind to sue him for all he’s worth—which is probably next to nothing.”
Lang forced a breath. What was he going to do with Zand, the colleague he had selected to assume the mantle of chief of Special Protoculture Observations and Operations during his absence? Thanks to Janice, Lang—via allies in the UEG—had managed to bring about the downfall of Milburn and the Lorelei Network. Would he now have to arrange for Zand, a friend and fellow scientist, to be similarly exposed to governmental and media scrutiny?
“I’ve met Emerson,” Lang said after a moment. “He hardly seems the type to assault someone without provocation.”
“Then you’re not as good a judge of character as you’d like to think you are.”
“You could be right,” Lang said, holding Zand’s gaze. “But from what I’ve heard, he discovered you subjecting Dana Sterling to certain tests?”
“Yes, he did. And what of it? You’ve done the same in the past. How else are we to understand the nature of Protoculture without investigating Sterling?”
“You make it sound like the child is the key to the Shapings.”
“She is,” Zand whispered conspiratorially. “She is the focal point! I was trying to activate the Zentraedi side of her when Emerson burst in and ruined everything. He charged at me. I couldn’t stop him; he seemed immune to my strength.”
“Your strength?”
“He said he would kill me with his bare hands if I ever touched her again. The fool accused me of being pruriently fixated on her! He’s not intelligent enough to grasp the truth—that I’m fixated on her soul!”
Two sets of pupilless eyes locked across the desk.
“Lazlo, you’re beginning to sound like a vampire.”
Zand threw up his still-functioning arm. “You’re a fine one to talk! Don’t we both feed off Protoculture? Aren’t we both obsessed with the limits of the mind and immortality?”
Lang collected himself before responding. “Listen to me carefully, Lazlo. The mind-boost I received at Zor’s console happened to me. No matter what you may have heard or what you choose to believe, I wasn’t seeking it. It was different for you—you conjured it—and your willfulness seems to have factored into the results. As a scientist, I’m intrigued; but I’m also concerned for you. Stay away from Dana Sterling. Do nothing to harm her. If she is a nexus of energies, a focal point, as you say, then you are courting disaster by preying on her. Once tipped, the scales of Protoculture will balance themselves by any means possible, and ill-intent is always paid back in kind.
“What’s more, parents are a fearsome breed, and little Dana’s are certainly as fearsome as they come. If the Shapings operate through Dana, they operate through Max and Miriya as well, and their progeny must not be tampered with. Don’t make the mistake of assuming that there aren’t even greater powers at work in the universe than what we’ve discovered in Protoculture. So refrain from rousing them, Lazlo. Whatever you do, don’t anger them.”
Max hadn’t slept since learning of Miriya’s sudden reappearance two days earlier. At the time, all Rick would say was that she had turned up in Mexico, and had been taken into custody by the RDF. In bits and pieces—while Rolf Emerson was using his influence with Leonard to get Max released from Cavern City—Max had learned of Miriya’s wounds, the stolen Stinger, and how she had nearly been shot down by the Veritech teams that had intercepted her south of Mexico. The obvious damage done to the Stinger was all that had saved her. When the RDFers finally established radio contact with her, Miriya was the one who had suggested a thorough inspection of the mecha by biowarfare experts, and isolation for herself.
Max was hurrying down a corridor in the Mexico base hospital now, fully suited in protective garb, as were the staffers on the ward. Leonard hadn’t liked releasing him from Venezuela, but Emerson had couched it as a personal favor rather than an official request. On landing his VT in Mexico, Max learned that shortly after his departure from Cavern City the Wolfe Pack and the Army of the Southern Cross had finally traded shots. Cavern seemed a lost cause. The disease was continuing to spread, there had been further outbreaks among Wolfe’s crew, and everyone along the trench wanted out. Max wondered if Cavern would wind up buried like Macross, or merely abandoned like Oasis in the Congo Sector.
His eagerness notwithstanding, he was apprehensive about seeing Miriya. He felt as if he were going to be better off not knowing the reasons for her disappearance. Rolf had brought Dana to Mexico, but Max thought it best that he first visit with Miriya alone. Rolf had said something about wan
ting to talk to him about Lazlo Zand and Dana, but that what he had to say could wait until some other time.
Miriya was being treated less like a prisoner than a patient, though two armed guards in antihazard suits were stationed outside her door. Her wounds were fairly serious, but her condition had stabilized during the previous twenty-four hours. Blood and fluid replacement had been a major concern, but what with the Freetown’s large Zentraedi population, Miriya couldn’t have picked a better place to put down.
Max’s first look at her was unnerving; it was difficult to tell when a Zentraedi was wan, but Miriya certainly looked weak, and she was swathed in dressings. He went to her side and gently hugged her, wishing he could rid himself of the NBC suit. “I thought I’d never hold you again,” he said through the faceplate. She was wooden in his arms. Distant.
“Is Dana all right?” she asked without emotion.
“She’s downstairs with Rolf. We can call for her whenever you want.”
“Yes, I want to see her.” Miriya turned to stare out the double-thickness window glass at the arid mountains. The sky was gray and turbulent with storm clouds.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Max asked after a moment.
“Do you?”
“I think I need to, but I’m not sure.”
Miriya took a starting breath. “I heard from Seloy Deparra. That’s why I had to leave Monument.”
Max nodded. “I thought so, from what Dana told me.”
“Seloy and her son left Brasília after the riot and fell in with the Scavengers, Her reputation as a warrior made her the ideal person to lead them. She also had the requisite desire for vengeance.”
“What did she want from you?”
“She wanted me to take Hirano to safety. She was expecting an attack by the RDF or the Southern Cross, and she didn’t want him caught up in the violence.”
“I haven’t heard anything about a raid,” Max said.
“Seloy called a meeting of representatives from the other bands. They’re about to implement a new offensive.”
“We know about the meeting. Does it have to do with the virus?”
Miriya looked at him. “You know about that?”
“I’ve been stuck in Cavern City for most of the time you’ve been missing.”
Miriya frowned in sudden concern. “Are you all right?”
“I am, but Cavern isn’t. Jonathan Wolfe and I were the ones who carried the virus in, though we’re still not sure how.” He began to fill her in on his brief imprisonment in Oasis, his convalescence in the Argentine, Rick’s visit, and the Wolfe Pack’s raid on the Shroud and Fist’s camp in Venezuela.
Miriya said nothing.
“Have you been debriefed?” Max asked.
She nodded. “By Niles Obstat.”
“Can you tell me anything about the Scavenger’s plan for the virus?”
“Cavern City is only the beginning,” Miriya said flatly. “They have access to enough of the virus to contaminate the entire Southlands—perhaps the world. It comes from a research laboratory some Amazonian indigines led them to. They plan to use tiny robots to spread the disease—almost-microscopic things called ‘shuttles,’ that have been retasked to embed themselves in the nose and throat. That’s the reason for the meeting: to distribute the shuttles to the other malcontent bands. Seloy hoped to infect a few people in as many places as possible; that way the disease would soon spread itself around the world.”
“How did you manage to escape the Scavengers camp?” Max asked.
“The Imperative provided all that I needed.” She paused, then added, “I can lead the RDF to the base. But my loyalty is now suspect. You have to convince Rick that I’m telling the truth—and quickly. There isn’t much time left.”
Max was nodding. “Rick won’t need convincing, but I can’t make any promises about the others.” Max regarded her through the permaplas plate. “Seloy must realize you’d come to us.”
“Seloy’s dead, Max.”
He was startled. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be. It was the risk she took when she summoned me. But her death will only delay the onset of their plan, not prevent it.” She reached for Max’s gloved hand. “I killed her.”
Max felt a shudder of dread and horror pass through him. The cause of Miriya’s flat tone and distant stare was revealed. “Where’s Hirano?”
“At the camp.” Miriya’s gaze was unfocused. “Max,” she said, with sudden anger. “I want to take part in the attack.”
He had his mouth open to respond but she cut him off. “And don’t tell me you understand, because you don’t.”
“My respect for the Robotech Masters continues to grow,” Lang was saying, studying the magnified and enhanced image of a shuttle-bot onscreen. “A remarkable piece of work. Simple, elegant, artistic …”
“Let’s not leave out ‘deadly,’ ” Gunther Reinhardt thought to point out.
Lang turned to the briefing room table, gathered at which were the brigadier general, Rick Hunter, a half-dozen staff officers in their customary places, and Rolf Emerson and Max Sterling.
“It’s the virus that’s deadly, General,” Lang said. “The shuttles, in seeking Human flesh, are merely executing their program.” He laughed to himself. “I’m sure Harry Penn will be amazed to learn just how well he trained his former Zentraedi student, Xan Norri.”
“Miriya also supplied us the name of Seloy Deparra’s second-in-command—Marla Stenik,” Reinhardt said. “I think it’s safe to assume that Stenik is now the leader of the Scavengers.”
“We don’t have any information on Stenik,” Rick added, “except that she was a Quadrano, like Deparra.”
Colonel Motokoff spoke from the foot of the table. “The hell with the Scavengers, I’d like to know what we have on the virus.”
Lang answered. “The reason it wasn’t identified by computer search is that all records of it were deleted during the Rain of Death. The Indians of northwestern Brazil have known about ‘Crazed Monkey Disease’ few generations, and there are references to it in a number of works by ethnographers, explorers, and specialists in tropical medicine. This research lab Miriya mentioned operated on solar-generated power, and those generators are apparently still in operation, or the virus samples would certainly have died by now.”
“Is there a treatment?” Rick asked.
“None that we know of. But the CDC and the Institute of Health assure me that a vaccine shouldn’t be long in coming now that we know what we’re dealing with. The RDF’s first order of business should be to take out that lab.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Reinhardt said with patent sarcasm, “but we don’t know where to look for it. Miriya’s after-mission report indicates that Deparra told her the lab was close to the Scavengers’ present base in the eastern foothills of the Andes, but that doesn’t give us much to go on. The lab was set up as a joint undertaking by Brazil and Peru, and records of its location probably exist in what remains of Lima or Rio. The problem is, neither Moran nor Leonard will come forward with information until we include them on what we’ve learned.”
Rick looked at Reinhardt. “What are their demands?”
“To be made partners in any attack we launch on the base. Naturally, they want their share of the glory.”
“What happened to Leonard’s idea that Miriya is working with the Scavengers by trying to lead us into a trap?” Max asked.
“He can’t risk standing by that,” Emerson told him. “He knows that the Army of the Southern Cross has to be included in the attack no matter how things play out in the end.”
“I vote we leave him out of it,” Max said. “If the Scavengers are routed, the location of the laboratory won’t matter.”
Lang shook his head. “It’s not that simple. We can’t be sure some other malcontent band hasn’t already been equipped with Stingers and shuttles, and the know-how to work with the virus.”
“Are you telling me Leonard has us over the barrel again?�
�
No one spoke for a moment; then Reinhardt said, “The decision isn’t the RDF’s, in any case. All we can do is present what we have to the UEG and wait for them to decide how to proceed.”
“Then it’s a foregone conclusion,” Max muttered. “Moran will argue that the Southlands are imperiled, and that the Southern Cross should be involved.” He glanced at Reinhardt, then Rick. “Just try to make it work so that we’re not answering to Leonard like we were in Cavern City. Otherwise, the Scavengers will have nothing to worry about. They’ll be able to sit back and watch units from the RDF and the Southern Cross go at it. Christ, they won’t even need to deploy the remaining virus. It’ll be pure insanity by then.”
Max might have gone on had not Niles Obstat entered the room at just that moment, saying, “We have the location of the laboratory.”
“How?” Reinhardt asked.
“Through Thomas Edwards’s sources in the Southlands.”
“Now, there’s a switch,” Lang muttered, mostly to Rick and Reinhardt.
“Then we don’t need anything from Leonard or the Southern Cross,” Max said.
Reinhardt nodded. “We should have enough to convince the UEG that this is our baby. Those bastards owe us at least that much for dropping Venezuela into Moran’s lap.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Emerson never had his talk with Sterling about the occasion he discovered Zand and Dana at the Monument City Robotech Research Center. From his journals, it is clear that Emerson planned to tell Sterling on the return of the SDF-3 from Tirol. Until then—what with Dana in his care—he would see to it personally that Zand didn’t come anywhere near the child. The Sterlings would only learn of Zand’s experiments—indeed, of Zand’s grotesque end and Emerson’s heroic death—from Dana herself, on her arrival on Tirol.
Selig Kahler, The Tirolian Campaign
Eight Stingers had been moved from the camp in the valley to the site of the research laboratory in the denuded highlands. Eight mecha, one to sting every major city in Earth’s western hemisphere: Portland, Detroit, Monument, Denver, Albuquerque, Mexico, Brasília, and Cuiabá.
The Zentraedi Rebellion Page 36